_Crimp._ Don't I tole you? Don't I tole you? I'se jes' gwine to 'luminate dis yer mamsum from de crown to de heel, regardless ob expense. Hi, golly! Jubilum am a-comun, and de darkies are jes' gwine into glory. Whar's Miss Gaylie? Whar she be? Golly! I can' hole myself still: mus' do somfum, or I shall combusticate and smash all to pieces. Whar's Miss Gaylie? (_Runs off_, L.) _Mrs. T._ (_rising_). Coming to-night! Dear, dear boy! I must dress myself to receive him. Just see what a state I'm in,—this old cap and this poor dress. _Mattie._ Why, mother, you never looked better in your life. _Mrs. T._ It's no such thing. I'm looking shabby, and my boy's coming home. Oh! I wish I had the regal robes of a queen, that I might receive him as he deserves. Dear, dear boy! (_Hurries off_, L.) _Mattie._ And so Rob is really coming home: how glad somebody will be to see him! She care for Wilder Rowell? I, for one, do not believe it. She's some reason for allowing his attentions: what it is, I cannot find out. When I ask her, she laughs, and breaks away singing, "Trust her not, she is fooling thee. Beware! Take care!" But I do trust her. She is all goodness. (_Enter_ ROWELL, C.) _Rowell_ (_aside_). Ah! only pretty Mattie Trueworth. If I hadn't higher aspirations, I should dearly like to make love to that girl. (_Aloud._) Good-evening, Miss Mattie. _Mattie._ Ah! Mr. Rowell, good-evening. _Rowell._ There seems to be a hubbub about this usually quiet mansion. What is going on? _Mattie._ Why, don't you know our soldiers are coming home to-night? _Rowell._ To-night! That is news. Is the war over? _Mattie._ Why, what a man! Don't you read the papers? Don't you take any interest in the war? _Rowell_ (_aside_). Not since I resigned two years ago. (_Aloud._) Oh, certainly! Is Richmond taken? _Mattie._ A week ago. Here's the whole account. (_Rises with paper, and comes forward._) _Rowell._ Indeed! show it to me. (_Puts his arm about her waist._ HIRAM _appears at door_, C.) _Hiram._ Ahem! a-hem! (MATTIE _starts to_ L. ROWELL, _with paper in his hand_, _starts_ R.) _Hiram_ (_with bombastic fury_). Oh, yes, oh, yes! it is all true, all true. _Rowell._ What! is the news confirmed? _Hiram_ (_contemptuously_). Confirmed! my _suspicions_ are confirmed. (_To_ MATTIE.) Oh, you cruel, deceitful, perfidious, ungenerous, ungrateful, unkind, unjust, un—un—unsociable young woman! what have you done? _Rowell_ (_aside_). Hallo! this fellow's in his jealous humor again. (_Aloud._) Miss Mattie, as you have company, I'll take the paper, and find the news myself. [_Exit_ L. _Mattie._ Mr. Hiram Jenks, what's the matter?