SIR WILFRID. No good, my boy--she's on her way here! [JOHN _drops the book and looks up dumbfounded._] The Reverend Matthew was here, y' see--and he said-- JOHN. [_Rising, turns._] Mrs. Karslake is coming here? [SIR WILFRID _nods._] To this house? Here? SIR WILFRID. That's right. JOHN. Coming here? You're sure? [SIR WILFRID _nods assent._] Fiddler, I want you to stay here, and if Mrs. Karslake comes, don't fail to let me know! Now then, for heaven's sake, what did Matthew say to you? SIR WILFRID. Come along in and I'll tell you. JOHN. On your life now, Fiddler, don't fail to let me-- [SIR WILFRID _carries_ JOHN _off with him._ VIDA. [_From the dining-room._] Ah, here you are! FIDDLER. Phew! _A moment's pause, and_ CYNTHIA _opens the front door, and comes in very quietly, almost shyly, as if she were uncertain of her welcome._ CYNTHIA. Fiddler! Where is he? Has he come? Is he here? Has he gone? FIDDLER. [_Rattled._] Nobody's gone, ma'am, except the Reverend Matthew Phillimore. CYNTHIA. Matthew? He's been here and gone? [FIDDLER _nods assent._] You don't mean I'm too late? He's married them already? FIDDLER. Nogam says he married them! CYNTHIA. He's married them! Married! Married before I could get here! [_Sinking into an armchair._] Married in less time than it takes to pray for rain! Oh, well, the church--the church is a regular quick marriage counter. [VIDA _and_ JOHN _are heard in light-hearted laughter._] Oh! FIDDLER. I'll tell Mr. Karslake-- CYNTHIA. [_Rising and going to the dining-room door, turns the key in the lock and takes it out._] No--I wouldn't see him for the world! [_Moving to the work-table with the key._] If I'm too late, I'm too late! and that's the end of it! [_Laying the key on the table, she remains standing near it._] I've come, and now I'll go! [_There is a long pause during which_ CYNTHIA _looks slowly about the room, then sighs and changes her tone._] Well, Fiddler, it's all a good deal as it used to be in my day. FIDDLER. No, ma'am--everything changed, even the horses. CYNTHIA. [_Absent-mindedly._] Horses--how are the horses? [_Throughout her talk with_ Fiddler _she gives the idea that she is saying good-bye to her life with_ JOHN. FIDDLER. Ah, when husband and wife splits, ma'am, it's the horses that suffer. Oh, yes, ma'am, we're all changed since you give us the go-by,--even the guv'nor. CYNTHIA. How's he changed? FIDDLER. Lost his sharp for horses, and ladies, ma'am--gives 'em both the boiled eye. CYNTHIA. I can't say I see any change; there's my portrait--I suppose he sits and pulls faces at me. FIDDLER. Yes, ma'am, I think I'd better tell him of your bein' here. CYNTHIA. [_Gently but decidedly._] No, Fiddler, no! [_Again looking about her._] The room's in a terrible state of disorder. However, your new mistress will attend to that. [_Pause._] Why, that's not her hat! FIDDLER. Yours, ma'am.