REMSON. Yes, madam. DR. MASTERSON. [Enters; slightly younger than his wife, a dapper little man, bald and henpecked.] No news from the steamer, my dear? MRS. MASTERSON. None. REMSON. Anything further, madam? MRS. MASTERSON. Nothing. [Exit REMSON.] DR. MASTERSON. It'll be too bad if Oceana has to spend this evening on the steamer. MRS. MASTERSON. Have you taken to calling her by that ridiculous name also? DR. MASTERSON. Surely she has a right to select her name! MRS. MASTERSON. I was present when she was christened; and so were you, Quincy. For ME she will remain Anna Talbot until the day she dies. DR. MASTERSON. Anna or Oceana... there's not much difference, it seems. [Takes paper and sits by window; they do not see ETHEL.] Weren't Letitia and Henry to be here? MRS. MASTERSON. Letitia was... but she's never on time. There's the bell now. [Looks at photograph.] Humph! So Ethel's had it framed! I declare... people ought not to be shown a photograph like that.. . it's not decent. DR. MASTERSON. My dear! It's the South Sea Islands! MRS. MASTERSON. [Severely.] This is Back Bay. Oh! Letitia! LETITIA. [Enters; aged about twenty-eight, prim and decorous, Patterned after her mother; black street costume, with furs.] No news from the steamer, it seems! Dear me, such weather! MRS. MASTERSON. You didn't walk, I hope? LETITIA. No, but even getting into the stores! I'm exhausted. DR. MASTERSON. [Looking from paper.] Henry coming? LETITIA. He said he might drop in. He's curious to see the lady. DR. MASTERSON. Humph! No doubt! LETITIA. Mother, I wish you'd try to do something with Henry. He's so restless and discontented... he's getting to be simply impossible. MRS. MASTERSON. I'm going to talk to him to-day, my dear. LETITIA. Fancy my going out and burying myself in the country! And he means it... he's at me all the time about it! MRS. MASTERSON. Well, don't go, my dear! LETITIA. Don't worry yourself... I've not the least intention of going. Such things as we modern women have to endure! Only fancy, he's got an idea he wants to be where he can work with his hands! MRS. MASTERSON. Henry ought to have discovered these yearnings before he married one of the Mastersons. As my daughter, you have certain social obligations to fill... your friends have a claim upon you, quite as much as your husband. LETITIA. He says he wants to take the bungalow and make it over... wants to plan it and work at it himself. And with me and the children sitting out on the mountain-top in the snow until he finishes, I suppose! MRS. MASTERSON. Quincy, do you know anything about this whim of Henry's for a day-laborer's life? DR. MASTERSON. My dear, Henry's a big, active man, and he wants something to do. MRS. MASTERSON. But hasn't he his business? DR. MASTERSON. I dare say there are things more thrilling to a man than commercial law-cases. And Henry's been thinking for himself... he says the law's a cheat.