Mrs. Miller: “And Mr. Miller?”
Curwen: “And Mrs. Curwen?”
Lawton: “And my daughter?”
Bemis: “And my son?”
Mr. Campbell, looking tranquilly round on the faces of his interrogators: “Is it a conundrum?”
Mrs. Roberts, mingling a real distress with an effort of mock-heroic solemnity: “It is a tragedy! O Willis dear! it’s what you see—what you hear; a niece without an aunt, a wife without a husband, a father without a son, and another father without a daughter.”
Roberts: “And a dinner getting cold, and a cook getting hot.”
Lawton: “And you are expected to account for the whole situation.”
Campbell: “Oh, I understand! I don’t know what your little game is, Agnes, but I can wait and see. I’m not hungry.”
Mrs. Roberts: “Willis, do you think I would try and play a trick on you, if I could?”