A cluster of minute stars in the constellation of Andromeda. I say stars designedly. For I differ from many authorities in believing this nebula to be irresolvable or gaseous. Indeed, the remarkable observations of Sir William McKechnie leave no doubt in my mind that this so-called nebula is an external galaxy. In which case—— BILL. Oh, help! So you still rot about with a telescope, Michael? MICHAEL. (_Coldly._) I am greatly interested in astronomy. BILL. (_To CLARE._) You, too? CLARE. I like the stars.... (_She turns loftily from him and talks to MRS. O’FARREL and MICHAEL._) LADY PATRICIA. (_To the DEAN._) I’m so sorry! (_To CLARE._) I was trying to persuade your father to stay with you, Clare. But he’s bent on putting finishing-touches to to-morrow’s sermon. MICHAEL. (_To the DEAN._) I’ll see Miss Lesley home, of course. MRS. O’FARREL. Can we drop you at the Deanery? DEAN. It’s very kind of you. MRS. O’FARREL. Come along, Bill. Good-bye, all! (_She goes out. The DEAN shakes hands with LADY PATRICIA and follows her._) BILL. (_To PATRICIA, in a low voice._) I’ve left the cup and glass up the tree. (_Aloud._) Good-bye, Cousin Patricia. LADY PATRICIA. Good-bye, Cousin Bill. BILL. Good-bye, Clare. CLARE. (_Haughtily._) Clare? BILL. Yes. (_To MICHAEL, in passing._) Sorry about the saucer. Good-bye. CLARE. Cheek! (_He goes out. A pause. Voices are heard below and the sound of a departing motor. MICHAEL waves good-bye._) LADY PATRICIA. (_Stretching out her arms._) Michael! MICHAEL. (_Putting his arms about her._) Patricia! And the poor head is really better, darling? I’m so glad you were able to sleep! (_CLARE looks at them with bored contempt, shrugs her shoulders, goes to the tree, and starts climbing up it during the following._) LADY PATRICIA. And my sleep was full of dreams, Michael. Strange and mystic dreams—oh, and such beautiful dreams! For they all led up to a vision of my dearest’s face. (_CLARE has vanished aloft._) MICHAEL. Heart of my heart! LADY PATRICIA. Soul of my soul! MICHAEL. Patricia.... LADY PATRICIA. Michael.... (_BALDWIN enters unnoticed with his saw and garden shears. He stares fixedly up the tree._) MICHAEL. One night I shall find a new star in the depths of the sky—— LADY PATRICIA. One day I shall write a poem that will ring down the ages—— MICHAEL. And the star shall be called Patricia. LADY PATRICIA. And the poem—Michael. MICHAEL. (_Lingering on the word._) Patricia! LADY PATRICIA. (_Lingering on the word._) Michael! BALDWIN. Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but there be summin’ white movin’ about up the tree. LADY PATRICIA. Baldwin! BALDWIN. It a’most looks to me as though a young lady ’ad climbed up the tree, sir. MICHAEL. What on earth——! CLARE.