MRS. HUNTER. But I _was_ glad the Worthings were here, and I thought it _sweet_ of old Mr. Dormer to go even to the cemetery. [_Voice breaks a little._] He never goes to balls any more, and, they say, catches cold at the slightest change of temperature. [_She takes a third sandwich._ BLANCHE. A great many people loved father. MRS. HUNTER. [_Irritably._] They ought to've. It was really foolish the way he was always doing something for somebody! How good these sandwiches are! [_Spoken very plaintively._ JESSICA. Shall we have to economize now, mother? MRS. HUNTER. Of course not; how dare you suggest such an injustice to your _father_, and _before_ the flowers are withered on his grave! [_Again becoming tearful._ [JORDAN _enters Left with a small silver tray, heaping full of letters._ Has the new writing paper come? BLANCHE. [_Who takes the letters and looks through them, giving some to her mother._] Yes. [BLANCHE _reads a letter, and passes it to_ JESSICA. MRS. HUNTER. Is the black border broad enough? They said it was the thing. CLARA. If you had it any broader, you'd have to get white ink to write with! MRS. HUNTER. [_Sweetly._] Don't be impertinent, darling! [_Reading another letter._ [_Enter_ MISS RUTH HUNTER. _She is an unmarried woman between thirty and forty years of age, handsome, distinguished; an aristocrat, without any pretensions; simple, unaffected, and direct in her effort to do kindnesses where they are not absolutely undeserved. She enters the room as if she carried with her an atmosphere of pure ozone. This affects all those in it. She is dressed in deep mourning and wears a thick chiffon veil, which she removes as she enters._ RUTH. Oh! you're having tea! [_Glad that they are._ MRS. HUNTER. [_Taking a second cup._] I thought the children _ought_ to. RUTH. Of course they ought and so ought you, if you haven't. MRS. HUNTER. Oh, I've _trifled_ with something. JESSICA. Sit here, Aunt Ruth. BLANCHE. Will you have a cup, Aunt Ruth? RUTH. Yes, dear, I'm feeling _very_ hungry. [_Sitting on the sofa beside_ JESSICA _and pressing her hand as she does so._ MRS. HUNTER. Hungry! _How can you!_ RUTH. Because I'm not a _hypocrite_! MRS. HUNTER. [_Whimpering._] I suppose that's a slur at me! RUTH. If the slipper fits! But I confess I haven't eaten much for several days; I couldn't touch anything this morning, and I begin to feel exhausted; I must have food and, thank Heaven, I want it. Thank you. [_To_ BLANCHE, _taking the cup from her._ MRS. HUNTER. I think it's awful, Ruth, and I feel I have a right to say it--I think you owed it to my feelings to have worn a long veil; people will think you didn't love your brother. RUTH. [_Dryly._] Will they? Let them! You know as well as I do that George loathed the very idea of crepe and all display of mourning. MRS. HUNTER. [_Feeling out of her element, changes the subject._] You stayed behind?