PHOEBE (_pained_). Susan, you have been talking to them about V. B. MISS SUSAN. I could not help it. (_Eagerly_) Now, Phoebe, what is it you have to tell me? PHOEBE (_in a low voice_). Dear, I think it is too holy to speak of. MISS SUSAN. To your sister? PHOEBE. Susan, as you know, I was sitting with an unhappy woman whose husband has fallen in the war. When I came out of the cottage he was passing. MISS SUSAN. Yes? PHOEBE. He offered me his escort. At first he was very silent--as he has often been of late. MISS SUSAN. _We_ know why. PHOEBE. Please not to say that I know why. Suddenly he stopped and swung his cane. You know how gallantly he swings his cane. MISS SUSAN. Yes, indeed. PHOEBE. He said: 'I have something I am wishful to tell you, Miss Phoebe; perhaps you can guess what it is.' MISS SUSAN. Go on! PHOEBE. To say I could guess, sister, would have been unladylike. I said: 'Please not to tell me in the public thoroughfare'; to which he instantly replied: 'Then I shall call and tell you this afternoon.' MISS SUSAN. Phoebe! (_They are interrupted by the entrance of_ PATTY _with tea. They see that she has brought three cups, and know that this is her impertinent way of implying that mistresses, as well as maids, may have a 'follower.' When she has gone they smile at the daring of the woman, and sit down to tea._) PHOEBE. Susan, to think that it has all happened in a single year. MISS SUSAN. Such a genteel competency as he can offer; such a desirable establishment. PHOEBE. I had no thought of that, dear. I was recalling our first meeting at Mrs. Fotheringay's quadrille party. MISS SUSAN. We had quite forgotten that our respected local physician was growing elderly. PHOEBE. Until he said: 'Allow me to present my new partner, Mr. Valentine Brown.' MISS SUSAN. Phoebe, do you remember how at the tea-table he facetiously passed the cake-basket with nothing in it! PHOEBE. He was so amusing from the first. I am thankful, Susan, that I too have a sense of humour. I am exceedingly funny at times; am I not, Susan? MISS SUSAN. Yes, indeed. But he sees humour in the most unexpected things. I say something so ordinary about loving, for instance, to have everything either blue or white in this room, and I know not why he laughs, but it makes me feel quite witty. PHOEBE (_a little anxiously_). I hope he sees nothing odd or quaint about us. MISS SUSAN. My dear, I am sure he cannot. PHOEBE. Susan, the picnics. MISS SUSAN. Phoebe, the day when he first drank tea in this house. PHOEBE. He invited himself. MISS SUSAN. He merely laughed when I said it would cause such talk. PHOEBE. He is absolutely fearless. Susan, he has smoked his pipe in this room. (_They are both a little scared._) MISS SUSAN. Smoking is indeed a dreadful habit. PHOEBE. But there is something so dashing about it. MISS SUSAN (_with melancholy_). And now I am to be left alone. PHOEBE. No.