PHYLLIS. Not _discussing_---- (_Self-righteously_) Bobby _would not discuss_ anybody. But--you see, Celia, we were all--Aunt Ida and all of us--talking, just in fun, about your having to wear Green Stockings once more at my wedding, and Bobby--(_Laughs to herself_) Darling Bobby, _is so witty_----! CELIA. Oh, yes--go on, Phyllis. PHYLLIS. (_Injured_) Well, but he is. CELIA. Oh, yes--yes---- PHYLLIS. And so Bobby was just being most awfully _sweet_ and _sympathetic_ about your--_your position_. CELIA. My position--! (_Between her teeth_) My--position! And so Mr. Robert Tarver was kind enough to express concern, was he--because there was no possible chance of any decent man ever wanting to marry me? PHYLLIS. (_Half frightened_) Oh, Celia! (_Rises_.) CELIA. And he makes jokes about my stockings. (_Goes_ L. _to chair_ R. _of table_ L. _and stands beside it_.) I can hear his jokes! PHYLLIS. Oh, Celia! Bobby is witty. CELIA. (_Ironically_) Yes, very. FARADAY. (_In card room_) I don't think much of that, Admiral. GRICE. (_In card room_) You don't? What's the matter with it? (_These last two lines are spoken hurriedly, almost together in card room, as_ CELIA'S _expression conveys to the audience her sudden determination to invent her story_.) CELIA. (_With entire change of manner_) Call him down here, Phyllis, please, and tell him I want to speak to him. PHYLLIS. Celia! (_Crossing to center_) But why? CELIA. Oh, nothing. I only want to thank him, you know, about old Admiral Grice, and tell him that he need no longer complicate his anxiety about his election with worries about me or the color of my stockings. PHYLLIS. (_Startled_) Why, Celia--what do you mean? CELIA. Well, you see--(_Laughs_)--I am not quite accustomed to announcing--_my_ engagement. PHYLLIS. (_With undisguised amazement. Haltingly_) _Your engagement?_ Why--it's impossible. CELIA. Yes, that's what Mr. Tarver says. Well, now suppose we call him down here, Phyllis, and tell him he is mistaken. PHYLLIS. Oh-Ce-lia! (_Embraces_ CELIA _gushingly. Rushes up to_ TARVER _and calling_) Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby! (_TARVER drops his magazine_, PHYLLIS _drags him down_ R. _of_ CELIA. _He is right of_ PHYLLIS.) What do you think? Celia's engaged to be married. TARVER. (_Looks at her, greatly astonished, dropping his eyeglass_) Never! CELIA. (_Sarcastically_) Thanks so much, Mr. Tarver, for your kind congratulations. PHYLLIS. (_Who has run up to card room, calling_) Aunt Ida, Aunt Ida! (TARVER _pauses a moment and then goes_ R., _looking over at_ CELIA _incredulously as he goes. He finally sits on fender_.) CELIA. (_Calling up to_ PHYLLIS) Oh, Phyllis, I only meant to tell you and Mr. Tarver. PHYLLIS. (_Excitedly. Bringing down_ AUNT IDA _extreme_ L.) Aunt Ida! Celia is engaged to be married. AUNT IDA. (_Coming down left of table and below table to_ CELIA. _Smiling happily_) Darling--at last---- (_Kisses_ CELIA.)