SALOME. Brought up as we have been, that's out of the question! SHEBA. Then let us be brave women and wear the dresses! SALOME. Of course we'll do that, but--the bill! SHEBA. We must get dear Papa in a good humor and coax him to make us a present of money. He knows we haven't been charitable in the town for ever so long. SALOME. Poor dear Papa! He hasn't paid our proper dressmaker's bill yet, and I'm sure he's pressed for money. SHEBA. But we can't help that when _we're_ pressed for money--poor dear Papa! SALOME. Suppose poor Papa refuses to give us a present? SHEBA. Then we must play the piano when he's at work on his Concordance--poor dear Papa! SALOME. However, don't let us wrong poor Papa in advance. Let us try to think how nice we shall look. SHEBA. Oh yes--sha'n't I! SALOME. Oh, I shall! And as for stealing out of the house with Major Tarver when poor dear Papa has gone to bed, why, Gerald Tarver would die for me! SHEBA. So would Nugent Darbey for me; besides I'm not old enough to know better. SALOME. You're not so very much younger than I, Sheba! SHEBA. Indeed, Salome! Then why do you keep me in short skirts? SALOME. Why! you cruel girl! You know I can't lengthen you till I'm married! [_BLORE, the butler, a venerable-looking person, with rather a clerical suggestion about his dress, enters by the window._ BLORE. [_Benignly._] The two soldier gentlemen have just rode hup, Miss Salome. [_The girls clutch each other's hands._ SALOME. You mean Major Tarver? SHEBA. And Mr. Darbey. They have called to inquire after poor Papa. SALOME. Poor Papa! BLORE. Shall I show them hin, Miss Sheba? SHEBA. Yes, Blore, dear, and hang your h's on the hat-stand. [BLORE _laughs sweetly at SHEBA and shakes his fingers at her playfully._ BLORE. [_Vindictively, behind their backs._] 'Ussies! [_He goes out._ SALOME. Am I all right, Sheba? SHEBA. Yes. Am I? SALOME. Yes. [_Looking out at window._] Here they are! How well Gerald Tarver dismounts! Oh! SHEBA. He left his liver in India, didn't he? SALOME. No--only part of it. SHEBA. Well--part of it. SALOME. And that he gave to his Queen, brave fellow! SHEBA. [_Seating herself in an artificial attitude._] Where shall we be--here? SALOME. [_Running to the piano._] All right; you be admiring my voice! SHEBA. Oh, I dare say! SALOME. Here they are, and we're doing nothing! SHEBA. Let's run away and then come in unconsciously. SALOME. Yes--unconsciously. [_They run off through the Library. BLORE shows in MAJOR TARVER and MR. DARBEY, who are both in regimentals. MAJOR TARVER is a middle-aged, tall, angular officer, with a thin face, yellow complexion, and red eyes. He is alternately in a state of great excitement and depression. MR. DARBEY is a mere boy, but with a pompous, patronizing manner._ DARBEY. The Dean's out of the way, eh! BLORE. Yes, sir, he his. TARVER. Eh? How is the Dean? Never mind--perhaps Miss Jedd is at home? BLORE.