PERCY. Last Sunday it was the rain--and the week before it was foggy, and the week before-- SYBIL. Don't be such a very rude boy! _She puts her hand over his mouth and he takes it and holds it._ MRS. M. [_complacently._] You're a bad boy to make fun of your old mother. I went to church this morning. PERCY. You're getting a oncer, mother. MRS. M. Well, I should only go to sleep if I went. PERCY. Think of the example you set if you put in an appearance. MRS. M. Yes, dear; I have thought of that, but it wouldn't do for them to see me asleep. FOSTER. [_who always has the effect of trying to smooth things over._] I'm sure it is better for you to rest, Mrs. Massey, than walk such a distance twice a day! MRS. M. Yes, it is rather a long way. It's quite a quarter of an hour's walk, and I don't care to ride on Sundays. _LILY plays, choosing the mournful hymn, "Abide with me." CHARLEY fidgets, goes to the piano and then back again to the window._ MASSEY. Can't you find a seat, Charles? You look uncomfortable. CHARLEY. Plenty, thanks. Sybil only has half a one. SYBIL. Oh, Mr. Wilson. [_She fidgets away from PERCY, who pulls her back again._] _LILY has played the tune through. She stops._ MRS. M. That's such a nice tune, don't you think, Walter? FOSTER. Very!--rather plaintive, but soothing. _LILY starts another--this time "Sun of my Soul."_ CHARLEY. For heaven's sake, Lil, play something cheerful. _LILY stops, turns undecidedly on the stool, looks round imploringly at CHARLEY, turns a few pages and then rises and goes out of the room hurriedly._ SYBIL. She's crying! MASSEY. What? MRS. M. You've hurt her, Charley, speaking like that. There was nothing to get cross about. She came this afternoon crying. CHARLEY. I've done nothing! I-- _Exit MRS. MASSEY in much indignation._ MASSEY. Had a tiff? CHARLEY. A tiff--we don't tiff. MASSEY. Well, then, don't shout at her like that. [_To SYBIL._] Here--are you sure she was crying? SYBIL. Yes, quite. MASSEY. That's queer. She didn't use to. CHARLEY. She's been worrying, I expect. Women worry so quick. MASSEY. What's she got to worry about? A bit hysterical, perhaps. _Re-enter MRS. MASSEY._ MASSEY. Is she better? MRS. M. She's got a headache, she says. But it isn't that; I know what's the matter. When she came to-day she could hardly speak-- CHARLEY. [_interrupting._] Is she worrying over me? MASSEY. What's she got to worry over you about? CHARLEY. I happened to say--I got the hump, I think. . . . I feel a bit restless. . . . MRS. M. [_hotly._] You know what it is well enough. You want to go away with that Tennant man and leave your wife-- MASSEY. [_shouting._] What! _SYBIL looks shocked, PERCY astonished, while FOSTER tries to pretend he didn't hear._ MRS. M. The poor child's breaking her heart because she says he wants to leave her. CHARLEY. I never said anything of the kind--I never thought of such a thing, I-- MRS. M. _Do_ you want to go away with that man?