{Kate.} Why, Felicity, what a sad little face. _(Fel. goes to Kate with her letter.)_ {Fel.} I--I--I've had awful bad news, Squire. {Kate.} _(sits)_ Well, sensible, strong-minded creatures like you and me are not to be knocked over by a little bad news, _(patting Fel's head kindly)_ What is it? {Fel.} _(kneels at Kate's side R., of her)_ Oh, Squire, dear, listen to this, _(reading the letter)_ "Dear Miss Gunnion"--fancy that, Squire, from Tom Morris-- "the news have come to Pagley that our regiment is the next for India. _(Kate starts)_ The orders are posted that we embark in ten days from this present, in the 'Orion.'" {Kate.} Stop! For India--Eric's regiment, _(she covers her face with her hands)_ Oh! {Fel.} What's the matter, Squire? {Kate.} Nothing, dearie; don't mind me. Go on! {Fel.} _(continuing letter)_ "I have been thinking of the matter careful, and have come to the conclusion that the climate of India would not agree with your health, it being a swelterer. I therefore let you off of your engagement, but have spoke to old Stibbs, the butler at Mrs. Thorndyke's, who has saved money, and wants for to marry again, and I have mentioned you as a steady hard-working lass who would make any man's home a palace. Send me back the silver earrings you had from me, as they will only remind you of him you have lost. So, no more from your heart-broken Tom." Oh, Squire! {Kate.} _(kisses Fel. on the forehead)_ Thank Heaven, on your knees, little woman, that you can never be that man's wife. {Fel.} _(rises and dries her eyes, and crosses to R. C.)_ I--I'm sure I'm very glad of it. _(standing C.)_ Oh, Squire, them soldiers are a bad, deceiving lot. The King has their chests padded, and so girls think they've got big hearts, but it's all wadding, Squire, it's all wadding, _(goes up R.)_ _(Gunnion enters door L.)_ {Gun.} I'm darned if this ain't a'most too much for an old man. _(calling off, at door)_ Come on with ye! _(Robjohns, Junior enters, attired in his best and carrying his fiddle in a green baize bag; he has a white hat in his hand.)_ I've got him at last; blessed if he ain't been dressing hisself since nine o'clock this morning, _(up by L., D.)_ {Rob.} _(L. U, advancing)_ Well, Squire, I'm truly sorry that I'm two hours and a yarf behind time, and I hope it'll make no difference. {Kate.} _(sitting L., C.)_ No, no. {Rob.} But, fact is, Squire, father's a-lingerin' in a most aggravatin' way, and rare work I had to get the yat from him. {Kate.} _(absently)_ The hat? {Rob.} _(holding out the hat)_ Father's white 'at, Squire--he's full o' yearthly pride and wouldn't give it up.