MRS. CARLEY.  I don’t know whether to go to the ball or stay home and have a good cry.

GEORGIANA.  Do whichever gives you the most pleasure, mother.

[LIZZIE enters Right and stands behind the dressing table.

MRS. CARLEY.  What? [Looking at herself in the glass.] It’s all very well for them to give us women a new front, I wish they’d give us new backs too.

[She goes out Right.

LIZZIE.  You must start dressing, miss—­Miss Shindle will be back.

GEORGIANA. [Absent-mindedly.] Yes, yes, Lizzie.

[LIZZIE goes out.]

Louise, I’m so glad you will stand by Steve; and try and be glad a little for me.

[Placing her arm about LOUISE.

LOUISE.  Yes, I don’t blame you, Georgy, so long as Dick’s proposed.  I’d do just as you’ve done, and I will be glad for you by to-morrow,—­I am glad now.

[Kisses her impulsively.

GEORGIANA.  Thank you, Louise, dear.

[She goes out Right.

STEVEN.  Louise!

LOUISE. [Comes to STEVE.] Steve. [LOUISE touches STEVE on the arm.] I don’t want to be horrid, but do you think you will be able to get anything decent to do?

STEVEN.  I’m sure I will.

LOUISE.  But will we have enough money to hold our own?

STEVEN.  I’ll do my best.  Louise, I appreciate your not making more of a row!

[With his arm around her.

LOUISE.  Oh, Steve, I know it’s just as hard for you—­and I do love you and I want to be nice about it, but—­[She cries. STEVEN kisses her again, in his arms.] I mustn’t give way like this.  I’ll be a sight at the ball.  Don’t let me cry, dear.

STEVEN.  All right.  Come on upstairs now, and make yourself beautiful.

[They go toward the door Right.

BELLA. [Reentering Left.] Good evening again, is Miss Georgiana ready for me?

LOUISE.  She must be,—­is my hair all right?

BELLA.  Oh, yes, that’s one thing about my hair dressing, though I do say it as shouldn’t, it has a lasting quality.

[LOUISE goes out Right.

GEORGIANA. [Calls from inside.] Is that you, Bella?

BELLA.  Yes, ma’am.

GEORGIANA.  I’ll be there in a minute—­be quick, Lizzie.

BELLA. [Lower voice.] Mr. Carley, have you seen the evening papers?

STEVEN.  No!

BELLA.  I just bought one and it’s got an article about the 91st regiment.

STEVEN.  What about it?

[Looks to see if door is closed.

BELLA. [Same voice.] They say it may ‘a’ been wiped out of existence:  it’s three weeks now since news of it was due, and the paper’s afraid they’ve met with an ambyscade or something like that.

STEVEN.  Oh, when the newspapers are hard up for news they get up something about the Philippines!  It’s the modern sea-serpent.  When there’s absolutely nothing else to print—­no girl suicide in Brooklyn, or cyclone in Kansas, or joke on Chicago, then they give the Philippines a paragraph or an insurrection.  Don’t you worry, Miss Shindle.