LOUISE. Yes, I don't blame you, Georgy, so long as Dick's proposed. I'd do just as you've done, and I will be glad for you by to-morrow,--I am _glad now_. [_Kisses her impulsively._ GEORGIANA. Thank you, Louise, dear. [_She goes out Right._ STEVEN. Louise! LOUISE. [_Comes to_ STEVE.] Steve. [LOUISE _touches_ STEVE _on the arm._] I don't want to be horrid, but do you think you will be able to get anything decent to do? STEVEN. I'm sure I will. LOUISE. But will we have enough money to hold our own? STEVEN. I'll do my best. Louise, I appreciate your not making more of a row! [_With his arm around her._ LOUISE. Oh, Steve, I know it's just as hard for you--and I do love you and I want to be nice about it, but--[_She cries._ STEVEN _kisses her again, in his arms._] I mustn't give way like this. I'll be a sight at the ball. Don't let me cry, dear. STEVEN. All right. Come on upstairs now, and make yourself beautiful. [_They go toward the door Right._ BELLA. [_Reëntering Left._] Good evening again, is Miss Georgiana ready for me? LOUISE. She must be,--is my hair all right? BELLA. Oh, yes, that's one thing about my hair dressing, though I do say it as shouldn't, it _has_ a lasting quality. [LOUISE _goes out Right._ GEORGIANA. [_Calls from inside._] Is that you, Bella? BELLA. Yes, ma'am. GEORGIANA. I'll be there in a minute--be quick, Lizzie. BELLA. [_Lower voice._] Mr. Carley, have you seen the evening papers? STEVEN. No! BELLA. I just bought one and it's got an article about the 91st regiment. STEVEN. What about it? [_Looks to see if door is closed._ BELLA. [_Same voice._] They say it may 'a' been wiped out of existence: it's three weeks now since news of it was due, and the paper's afraid they've met with an ambyscade or something like that. STEVEN. Oh, when the newspapers are hard up for news they get up something about the Philippines! It's the modern sea-serpent. When there's absolutely nothing else to print--no girl suicide in Brooklyn, or cyclone in Kansas, or joke on Chicago, then they give the Philippines a paragraph or an insurrection. Don't you worry, Miss Shindle. [_He sits in the arm-chair near the sofa._ BELLA. But it says the island they went against was the heathenest of the lot, and that there's no good reason why if they'd hadn't no fight with the natives, we shouldn't 'a' had news from them. STEVEN. The whole question of news in a case like this is too uncertain to make so much alarm about. The men's idea is not to send picture postal cards of daily movements home to America, but to lick the natives into shape! BELLA. I'm sure you do comfort me. Don't know as Miss Georgiana told you, but my young man's out there, with Mr.--Lieutenant Coleman. STEVEN. Well, don't worry. You just make up your mind the papers are short of news to-night.