Mrs. Roberts: ‘I was all excitement, Willis—’
Willis: ‘No, I should think from the fact that you had set the decanter here on the hearth, and put your cologne into the wood-box, you were perfectly calm, Agnes.’ He takes them up and hands them to her. ‘Quite as calm as usual.’ The door-bell rings.
Mrs. Crashaw: ‘Willis, will you let that ridiculous man go away and make himself presentable before people begin to come?’ The bell rings violently, peal upon peal.
Mrs. Roberts: ‘Oh, my goodness, what’s that? It’s the garotters—I know it is; and we shall all be murdered in our beds!’
Mrs. Crashaw: ‘What in the world can it—’
Willis: ‘Why don’t your girl answer the bell, Agnes? Or I’ll go myself.’ The bell rings violently again.
Mrs. Roberts: ‘No, Willis, you sha’n’t! Don’t leave me, Edward! Aunt Mary!—Oh, if we must die, let us all die together! Oh, my poor children! Ugh! What’s that?’ The servant-maid opens the outer door, and uttering a shriek, rushes in through the drawing-room portière.
Bella the Maid: ‘Oh, my goodness! Mrs. Roberts, it’s Mr. Bemis!’
Mrs. Roberts: ‘Which Mr. Bemis?’
Roberts: ‘What’s the matter with him?’