[_To_ JUSTINA, _who rises_.] Go away! You can sit by and assist at the telling of a story of this nature, single woman that you are! [JUSTINA _walks away_.] What did I prophesy? Years ago, what did I prophesy? [_To_ MRS. EMPTAGE.] Now, pray, how do you like seeing your children dabbling their hands in this—this pig-pail? [CLAUDE _enters_. CLAUDE. Fraser and Theo—— MRS. EMPTAGE. [_Rising._] Ah! CLAUDE. Just come in. [MRS. CLOYS _walks away_; CLAUDE _joins_ JUSTINA.] MRS. EMPTAGE. [_Repressing her excitement._] Sssh, sssh, sssh! Let nobody make a fuss; Alec hates a fuss! SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD. No fuss, but some one ought to play “See the Conquering Hero——!” Theo is so fond of a little fun—genuine fun! [_He seats himself at the piano and fingers out the air laboriously._ THEOPHILA _and her husband enter. She is an elegantly-dressed, still girlish, woman of seven-and-twenty; he a good-looking, undemonstrative man of about five-and-thirty. Both are pale, weary-looking, and subdued._ FRASER _is gloved and frock-coated_; THEOPHILA _is in her bonnet and cape_. MRS. EMPTAGE. [_Her hands twitching._] Well, pet? THEOPHILA. [_Kissing her mother in a spiritless way._] Well, mother dear? [THEOPHILA _goes to_ JUSTINA _and_ CLAUDE _and kisses them, silently_. MRS. EMPTAGE. [_Shaking hands with_ FRASER.] A hundred thousand congratulations, Alec. FRASER. [_Biting his lip._] Thanks. [_Standing at the further end of the piano, to_ SIR FLETCHER.] Do you mind _not_ playing? SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD. [_Rising and singing._] “See the Conquering He—ro co—o—o—o—o—o—um—ms—!” Not hero—heroes. No, hero and heroine! [THEOPHILA _comes to him and kisses him in the same impassive fashion_. THEOPHILA. [_Quietly._] Much obliged to you for sticking to me, the last two days, uncle. SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD. My dear, as a matter of fact, I’ve enjoyed myself in Court. I am not exaggerating—enjoyed myself. MRS. EMPTAGE. Theo, your aunt Harriet—— THEOPHILA. [_Turning._] Aunt——! [_Advancing slowly to meet_ MRS. CLOYS—_a little dazed_.] I saw a figure; I—I thought it was Kitty. Why, aunt——! [_They shake hands._ MRS. CLOYS. [_Looking into her face, earnestly._] You’re tired—quite done. THEOPHILA.