CELIA. (_Raising a flushed, quivering face from_ AUNT IDA'S _shoulder_) So you were all--trying to keep this--from me? GRICE. (_Coming down_ R.) God help us, we were. (_Takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes_.) PHYLLIS. Ah--Celia. AUNT IDA. (_In same queer, choked way_) Wouldn't it be better if you all left her alone--with me? FARADAY. (_Much relieved_) Quite so. Quite so. Come, children. (_Crosses a few steps up and right. The girls, with_ PHYLLIS _first_, MADGE, _then_ EVELYN, _form a line and, with bowed heads and folded hands, walk across the morning room door_. TARVER _rises and walks mournfully up to door_.) Come, Admiral. GRICE. (_Crossing up_ R.) No, Faraday. I'll take my leave from this house of grief. (_Exits through card room_.) CELIA. (_Comes_ L.C.) Wait, Father. (_The girls halt in doorway_, TARVER _above sofa_) I only want to say that I don't intend to let this news make any difference--outwardly. You see you never knew what I knew--about him, so I can't expect you to realize all that I've lost. I don't see what's to be gained by any parade of grief, so I'll go to this dinner party to-night and try to act as though nothing whatever had happened. TARVER. (_Beaming_) That's splendid of you, Celia. It's much the wisest not to give way to sorrow. But you will get those votes you promised me, won't you? FARADAY. Take him away. Take him away. (EVELYN _whirls_ TARVER _around and hands him unceremoniously off the stage_. FARADAY _exits. There is a pause, then_ AUNT IDA _and_ CELIA _burst into hearty laughter_. AUNT IDA _crosses to table_ R., _sits, and_ CELIA _sits on the arm of her chair_.) CELIA. Oh, Aunt Ida. Didn't we get through that splendidly? (GRICE _re-enters through card room. They quickly turn their laughter into sobs and bury their faces in their handkerchiefs_.) GRICE. (_Coming down_ C.) I have been lingering, my dear Miss Faraday, just to grasp your hand and whisper a word of cheer. Keep up your heart, my dear. Keep up your heart. Remember there are other fish in the sea--big fish. (_Bows and elaborately exits through card room_.) CELIA. Old fool!--Isn't it a mercy I'm going to escape that sort of thing? There'd be a dozen more if I gave them a chance, but instead of that I'm going with you to Chicago to live and die a spinster with an unawakened soul. AUNT IDA. (_In a high tragedy tone_) Celia, I have a queer feeling we're not done with this thing yet. CELIA. Why, of course we are, you dear; the steamship tickets are up in my room and I'm going with you to-morrow when you leave on the noon train. What a brick you've been through it all, Aunt Ida, what a brick! AUNT IDA. (_Laughing, then recovering herself and endeavoring to be moral. Crossing_ L.) You--you--you must never do it again, Celia. CELIA. Well, it's hardly the sort of thing one _can_ do _very often_.