THE MANAGER (_sottovoce, quickly to the Prompter in his box_). Ready! ready? Get ready to write now. THE FATHER (_coming forward and speaking in a different tone_). Good afternoon, Miss! THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_head bowed down slightly, with restrained disgust_). Good afternoon! THE FATHER (_looks under her hat which partly covers her face. Perceiving she is very young, he makes an exclamation, partly of surprise, partly of fear lest he compromise himself in a risky adventure_) "Ah ... but ... ah ... I say ... this is not the first time that you have come here, is it?" THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_modestly_). No sir. THE FATHER. You've been here before, eh? (_Then seeing her nod agreement_): More than once? (_Waits for her to answer, looks under her hat, smiles, and then says_): Well then, there's no need to be so shy, is there? May I take off your hat? THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_anticipating him and with veiled disgust_). No sir ... I'll do it myself. (_Takes it off quickly_). (THE MOTHER, _who watches the progress of the scene with_ THE SON _and the other two children who cling to her, is on thorns; and follows with varying expressions of sorrow, indignation, anxiety, and horror the words and actions of the other two. From time to time she hides her face in her hands and sobs_). THE MOTHER. Oh, my God, my God! THE FATHER (_playing his part with a touch of gallantry_). Give it to me! I'll put it down (_takes hat from her hands_). But a dear little head like yours ought to have a smarter hat. Come and help me choose one from the stock, won't you? L'INGÉNUE (_interrupting_). I say ... those are our hats you know. THE MANAGER (_furious_). Silence! silence! Don't try and be funny, if you please.... We're playing the scene now I'd have you notice. (_To the Step-Daughter_). Begin again, please! THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_continuing_). No thank you, sir. THE FATHER. Oh, come now. Don't talk like that. You must take it. I shall be upset if you don't. There are some lovely little hats here; and then--Madame will be pleased. She expects it, anyway, you know. THE STEP-DAUGHTER. No, no! I couldn't wear it! THE FATHER. Oh, you're thinking about what they'd say at home if they saw you come in with a new hat? My dear girl, there's always a way round these little matters, you know. THE STEP-DAUGHTER (_all keyed up_). No, it's not that. I couldn't wear it because I am ... as you see ... you might have noticed.... (_showing her black dress_). THE FATHER. ... in mourning! Of course: I beg your pardon: I'm frightfully sorry....