_Helen._ Oh, we can make it a capital joke, and if Lord Ferrol is only nice we can have both the joke and a good time. _Amy._ Well, I don’t care what Lord Ferrol is; I am going to use him to punish—them. _Helen._ Oh! Amy, why that significant pause? We all know how them spells his name. _Rose (springing to her feet with a scream)._ Girls! Girls!! _Amy (startled)._ What’s the matter? _Rose (melodramatically)._ My Lords! My Lords! There are traitors in the camp and treachery stalks rampant. [_Comes to centre with blotter._ _Helen._ Oh, come off that roof! _Rose._ No, really, I’m in dead earnest. _Amy._ What is it, Rose? _Rose (evidently reading with difficulty from blotter)._ Listen. “Dear Frank,—We hear you are to come up here on Tuesday. Now, if you want a soft thing, pay heed to what I write—” Oh, I can’t read it backwards. Where is a mirror? _Helen (rushing to mantel)._ Here, Here. [_Holds mirror in front of blotter._ _Rose (reading)._ “We are expecting a howling English Lord up here the last of the week, and the girls are going to lay themselves out for his benefit.” _Helen_ } (_with intense anger_). What!!! _Amy_ } _Rose (reading)._ “Just to spite us poor republicans. Put on goggles, a beard and wig; get a big pattern suit and a leather hat-box. Telegraph Mrs. Wycherly (in the name of Ferrol) that you will arrive on the 5.15 train Tuesday. You will be met, _coddled_, CARESSED!! [_Drops blotter in rage._ _Amy (shrieking)._ Oh! _Helen (intensely)._ What!! (_Grabs at blotter eagerly._) Here, you read too slowly, let me. (_Amy holds mirror._) “Coddled, caressed, till we shall call you tenderfoot. But a word in your ear! Make yourself rather disagreeable. Dress in the wrong clothes at meals. Use the words ‘nasty’ and ‘beastly’ frequently, and of all things meet the girls half-way in their attentions. Your name is George Augustus—” It ends there. [_Girls look at each other indignantly._ _Amy (dangerously)._ It was about time! [_Going to the mantel and replacing mirror._ _Helen._ What shall we do? _Amy._ “And he said can this be? We are ruined by Chinese cheap labour (_pause_) We will go for them heathen Chinee.” _Helen (turning)._ Yes!—but how? _Amy._ Girls, put on your thinking-caps, and hunt for some terrible punishment. _Rose._ Something “lingering, with boiling oil or melted lead.” _Enter_ MRS. W. _r. d., with telegraph blank in hand._ _Mrs. W._ Why, girls, what were those shrieks about? _Rose (with embarrassment)._ Oh, nothing, Mrs. Wycherly. That is— _Amy._ I hope we didn’t frighten you, Mrs. Wycherly.