SYLVIA. I don't know. JOYCE. I should simply hate that. (_Sits on right end of form._) EVANGELINE. So should we all--it would be miserable. SYLVIA. Think how awful it must be for mother. JOYCE. I say, don't you think Oliver ought to be here--if anything's going to happen? He's the eldest. SYLVIA. He wouldn't be any help. He cares for nothing but the inside of motors and the outside of Maisie Stuart; he's not observant enough to know her inside. EVANGELINE. What a perfectly horrible thing to say! SYLVIA. Well, it's absolutely true; he thinks she's everything that's good and noble, when all the time she's painfully ordinary and a bit of a cat; what fools men are. JOYCE (_blasé_). One can't help falling in love. (_Enter_ MRS. DERMOTT _downstairs followed by_ BOBBIE; _she is a pretty little woman with rather a plaintive manner._) MRS. DERMOTT (_as she descends_). Bobbie says you all want to talk to me! What's the matter, darlings? (_Comes_ C.) SYLVIA. That's what we want to know, mum; come on now, out with it. You've been looking worried for ever so long. (BOBBIE _stays at foot of stairs._) MRS. DERMOTT. I don't know what you mean, Sylvia dear I---- SYLVIA. Now listen to me, mother; you've got something on your mind, that's obvious to any one; you're not a bit good at hiding your feelings. Surely we're all old enough to share the worry, whatever it is. MRS. DERMOTT. (_kissing her_). Silly old darlings--it's true I have been a little worried--you see, we're ruined. SYLVIA. } EVANGELINE. } Mother! BOBBIE. } JOYCE. } (_The girls rise._) MRS. DERMOTT (_shaking her head sadly_). Yes, we're ruined; we haven't a penny. (_Moves to chair below table._) SYLVIA. Why didn't you tell us before? MRS. DERMOTT (_sitting_). I only knew it myself this morning, I had a letter from Tibbets; he's been through all the papers and things. EVANGELINE. Father's papers? MRS. DERMOTT. I suppose so, dear. There wouldn't be any others, would there? BOBBIE (_coming down_). But mother, what did he say, how did he put it? MRS. DERMOTT. I really forget--but I know it worried me dreadfully. (JOYCE _sits on form._) EVANGELINE. And we literally haven't a penny? MRS. DERMOTT. Well, only fifteen hundred a year; it's almost as bad. (EVANGELINE _sits in armchair._) JOYCE. Shall we have to give up the house? MRS. DERMOTT. I'm afraid so, darling; you see there are taxes and rates and things. Tibbets knows all about it--he's coming down to-night. SYLVIA. Can't Uncle Daniel do anything? (BOBBIE _sits on table._) MRS. DERMOTT. He's my only hope. I cabled to South America three weeks ago. I didn't know the worst then, but I felt I wanted some one to lean on--after all, his cheque was a great help. JOYCE. Is he very, very rich? MRS. DERMOTT. He must be, he's a bachelor, and he has a ranch and a mine and things. BOBBIE. Has he answered your cable?