TARVER. (_Seated in chair below fender. Plaintively_) Will somebody kindly tell _me_ what's happened? GRICE. Always thinking of yourself, Tarver. (_Reads slowly and impressively_) "On October the 11th--of wounds--at Berbera, Somaliland--Colonel Smith." TARVER. (_Feeling that he must say something_) On October the 11th--that is tough, isn't it? FARADAY. Yes, it's hard. I've been inquiring about rooms at the Club. I didn't expect this. PHYLLIS. (_At head of table_) It's more terribly and cruelly hard on Celia than it would be upon _any other woman_. GRICE. (_Putting paper on table_) Why? PHYLLIS. Because---- (_Breaks off_.) Don't you remember the night when she told us of her engagement eight months ago. She said then that her betrothal would make an extraordinary difference in her life. (_READY Doorbell_.) EVELYN. Then she wasn't happy. Now she is. MADGE. And when she is, this blow falls without even a telegram to break the force of it. PHYLLIS. It is too horrible. Nothing but an announcement in the Times sent by post. (NOTE: _The voices in each succeeding line should descend in scale_.) MADGE. On October the 11th---- TARVER. Of wounds---- FARADAY. At Berbera---- EVELYN. Somaliland---- GRICE. Colonel Smith---- TARVER. (_Rising and coming_ L. _to stool below table_) By Jove! If Celia withdraws from the _contest_, I'm done. (_Doorbell rings off_ L. TARVER _sits on stool_.) GRICE. (_Alarmed_) Wasn't that the front doorbell? MADGE. (_Coming down stage_) Who is to break the news to her? GRICE. (_Pauses, looks around and suddenly points to_ TARVER) _Tarver_. TARVER. (_Springs to his feet in horror_) Me? No, no. I think it needs a woman's voice. (_Waving his hands feebly up and down in front of him_) A woman's gentle fingers. FARADAY. God bless my soul! It isn't going to be broken to her in the deaf and dumb alphabet. EVELYN. Let's leave Father to break the sad news to her. FARADAY. Me! No, no. I might break down. Someone outside the family would have more command over their emotions. Some old, warm-hearted friend. (_Pause, while_ GRICE _shows alarm_.) Grice, for instance. GRICE. _Me!_ No, no. Ah! I have an idea. (_Comes down stage, and_ FARADAY, MADGE, EVELYN _and_ TARVER _gather about him_, FARADAY L., MADGE L.C., GRICE C., EVELYN R.C., TARVER R. _Slowly, seriously and impressively_) Let us all break it to her--gently--when she comes into the room. I'll give the signal--one, two, three and then we'll all say together and very gently, "Colonel Smith is dead." (_Looks for approval and they all turn away in disgust_.) (FARADAY _goes extreme_ L., MADGE _back to head of table_ L., TARVER _extreme_ R. _and_ EVELYN _to chair_ R.C.) AUNT IDA. (_Coming down stage_) Hadn't you better leave it to me? (_All show tremendous relief_.) MADGE. Of course. FARADAY. You are the very person.