AUNT. Not here? MINNIE. No. Where can he be? AUNT. (_At fire_) Extraordinary! MINNIE. Auntie, we shall be late. Do you hear? We shall be late. AUNT. Yes, dear, I think you will. MINNIE. He promised to go, didn’t he? AUNT. Yes, dear, he certainly did. MINNIE. I do call it a shame. Horace is the meanest, most selfish—— AUNT. Quite right, dear, he is. MINNIE. He thinks of nothing but his books, and his papers, and his horrid little stars. AUNT. Quite true, dear, he does. MINNIE. Then why do you let him do it? AUNT. I? MINNIE. Yes, you. You know he is engaged to me, and yet you allow him to treat me as if we had been married for years. (_Up to window._) AUNT. My dear Minnie—(_Sits L. of table_)—if Horace is a little thoughtless, surely it isn’t my fault. I suppose he has forgotten all about the dance—— MINNIE. Forgotten! (_Comes C._) I’ll tell you what it is. Aunt Martha, you will have to go instead. (_Goes to fire._) AUNT. Minnie, I can’t. You know, dear, it is quite impossible. MINNIE. Impossible? Why? AUNT. Well, dear, you know that horrid Louise hasn’t sent home my dress. MINNIE. Nonsense, Aunt Martha. You’ve lots of dresses. AUNT. Not one fit to be seen. You know that perfectly well. MINNIE. There’s your plum-colored silk—— AUNT. My dear child. I wore that all last winter. MINNIE. Only about three times. Then there’s your yellow satin. AUNT. You know I look a perfect fright in that. Yellow doesn’t suit me. MINNIE. Nothing suits you to-night. I declare you are as bad as Horace! I suppose I shall have to give up the dance. It is a shame! AUNT. My dear, I would have gone with pleasure if that odious Louise hadn’t disappointed me. But you wouldn’t have me make an exhibition of myself. One must have some pride. MINNIE. Pride? You’re all pride. I do believe if the house were on fire, and you cut off in a top room, you’d decline the fire-escape unless you were dressed in the latest Paris fashion. (_Goes up to window._) AUNT. Well, upon my word, dear, you are not very polite. I must say that I am very sorry that you should be disappointed about your dance, but I don’t believe you’d have cared so very much if you hadn’t known you were wearing a particularly pretty frock. MINNIE. It isn’t that at all. AUNT. But it is—a very pretty frock. And it suits you quite wonderfully. MINNIE. Does it, Auntie? (_Coming to AUNT._) What I meant was I go for the dancing—principally. I do love dancing. Auntie, don’t you think you could manage? (_Kisses her. Front door heard to slam._) Ah, that must be Horace. (_Enter HORACE R. in fur coat. MINNIE runs to him and kisses him. HORACE puts copy of “The Astronomer” on table._) MINNIE. Oh, Horace! HORACE. Beastly cold. (_Goes to fire._) MINNIE. Horace, I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve been waiting such a time. HORACE. Waiting? What for? MINNIE. Why, for you. AUNT. Have you got a cab? HORACE. Cab? What for? AUNT. Well, you know the horses are coughing.