MRS. CLANDON (changing her tone to a more earnest one). Dolly: Mr. McComas has something more serious than that to tell you. Children: I have asked my old friend to answer the question you asked this morning. He is your father's friend as well as mine: and he will tell you the story more fairly than I could. (Turning her head from them to Gloria.) Gloria: are you satisfied? GLORIA (gravely attentive). Mr. McComas is very kind. McCOMAS (nervously). Not at all, my dear young lady: not at all. At the same time, this is rather sudden. I was hardly prepared--er-- DOLLY (suspiciously). Oh, we don't want anything prepared. PHILIP (exhorting him). Tell us the truth. DOLLY (emphatically). Bald headed. McCOMAS (nettled). I hope you intend to take what I have to say seriously. PHILIP (with profound mock gravity). I hope it will deserve it, Mr. McComas. My knowledge of human nature teaches me not to expect too much. MRS. CLANDON (remonstrating). Phil-- PHILIP. Yes, mother, all right. I beg your pardon, Mr. McComas: don't mind us. DOLLY (in conciliation). We mean well. PHILIP. Shut up, both. (Dolly holds her lips. McComas takes a chair from the luncheon table; places it between the little table and the garden seat with Dolly on his right and Philip on his left; and settles himself in it with the air of a man about to begin a long communication. The Clandons match him expectantly.) McCOMAS. Ahem! Your father-- DOLLY (interrupting). How old is he? PHILIP. Sh! MRS. CLANDON (softly). Dear Dolly: don't let us interrupt Mr. McComas. McCOMAS (emphatically). Thank you, Mrs. Clandon. Thank you. (To Dolly.) Your father is fifty-seven. DOLLY (with a bound, startled and excited). Fifty-seven! Where does he live? MRS. CLANDON (remonstrating). Dolly, Dolly! McCOMAS (stopping her). Let me answer that, Mrs. Clandon. The answer will surprise you considerably. He lives in this town. (Mrs. Clandon rises. She and Gloria look at one another in the greatest consternation.) DOLLY (with conviction). I knew it! Phil: Chalkstones is our father. McCOMAS. Chalkstones! DOLLY. Oh, Crampstones, or whatever it is. He said I was like his mother. I knew he must mean his daughter. PHILIP (very seriously). Mr. McComas: I desire to consider your feelings in every possible way: but I warn you that if you stretch the long arm of coincidence to the length of telling me that Mr. Crampton of this town is my father, I shall decline to entertain the information for a moment. McCOMAS. And pray why? PHILIP. Because I have seen the gentleman; and he is entirely unfit to be my father, or Dolly's father, or Gloria's father, or my mother's husband. McCOMAS. Oh, indeed! Well, sir, let me tell you that whether you like it or not, he is your father, and your sister' father, and Mrs. Clandon's husband. Now! What have you to say to that! DOLLY (whimpering). You needn't be so cross. Crampton isn't your father.