[_She hurries out with_ THEOPHILA’S _bonnet and cape_. CLAUDE _and_ JUSTINA _carry the tea-table and place it before the “cosy-corner.”_ MRS. CLOYS _sits with her head bent_. HORTON _places the tray upon the tea-table and withdraws_. JUSTINA _sits in the “cosy-corner” and pours out tea_. SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD. [_Bustling up to the tea-table._] Tea is what we _all_ need. A most exciting day! I’ve often observed how welcome one’s tea is on a Derby Day—— THEOPHILA. [_In a whisper to_ FRASER _across the table_.] Alec, will you tell them what the judge said of me, or shall I? FRASER. I suppose it’s necessary. THEOPHILA. People _heard_ it. Then, the papers—— FRASER. Of course. [_Agitated._] I—I’ll tell them, if you like. THEOPHILA. Thank you. [_Quickly._] No, no—I’ll tell them. You couldn’t do it—how _could_ you? MRS. EMPTAGE _returns_. MRS. EMPTAGE. Tea, tea! [_Sitting._] Alec, come and sit by me. [FRASER _sits at a distance_, _his lips compressed_, _his hands gripped together_.] Oh, fie! all that way off! You will persist in treating me as an ordinary mother-in-law! [FRASER _moves his chair a little nearer_.] That’s better. [_Triumphantly._] Well, Harriet, you see all my children round me—a happy family! [CLAUDE _brings tea to_ MRS. CLOYS. SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD. [_Bringing a cup of tea to_ THEOPHILA.] I make no excuse for devoting myself to Theo—on this occasion. [THEOPHILA _takes the tea and gulps it_.] You looked charming in the witness-box—piquant. [_Returning to the tea-table._] Piquant—just the word—piquant. MRS. EMPTAGE. Now, Alec dear, tell us. Did Mrs. Allingham’s counsel, Mr. What’s-his-name, express regret when it was all over? FRASER. Regret——? [SIR FLETCHER _brings tea to_ MRS. EMPTAGE; CLAUDE _brings tea to_ FRASER, _then returns to the tea-table_. MRS. EMPTAGE. Regret at finding himself made the—the thingamy—the vehicle—for such a malicious attack on Theo’s character—the poor child. FRASER. [_With an effort._] No; no regret was expressed. MRS. EMPTAGE. Not by the judge either? FRASER. The judge! MRS. EMPTAGE. The judge never said he was sorry to see a nicely bred girl, so recently married too, subjected to such a—such a—such an unwarrantable ordeal? [FRASER _is silent_.] Eh—h? THEOPHILA. [_After a brief pause._] No, mother.