[She waits with a smile of coming triumph on her face.

RUTH.  Nursing!

MRS. HUNTER. [Disgusted.] No!

CLARA.  Manicuring?

MRS. HUNTER. Darling!

BLANCHE.  Designing dresses and hats?

MRS. HUNTER.  No!

JESSICA.  Book-keeping?

MRS. HUNTER.  No.

RUTH.  Then what in the world is it?

MRS. HUNTER.  Marriage!

CLARA.  Oh, of course!

RUTH.  Humph!

[JESSICA and BLANCHE exchange glances.

MRS. HUNTER.  That young Mr. Trotter would be a fine catch for Jess.

JESSICA.  Who loathes him!

MRS. HUNTER.  Don’t be old-fashioned!  He’s very nice.

RUTH.  A little cad, trying to get into society—­nice occupation for a man!

JESSICA.  Mother, you can’t be serious.

CLARA.  Why wouldn’t he do for me?

RUTH.  He would!  The very thing!

MRS. HUNTER.  We’ll see, darling; I think Europe is the place for you.  I don’t believe all the titles are gobbled up yet.

RUTH.  Jess, I might get you some women friends of mine, to whom you could go mornings and answer their letters.

MRS. HUNTER.  I should not allow my daughter to go in that capacity to the house of any woman who had refused to call on her mother, which is the way most of your friends have treated me.

RUTH.  Do you realize, Florence, this is a question of bread and butter, a practical suggestion of life, which has nothing whatever to do with the society columns of the daily papers?

MRS. HUNTER.  I do not intend that my daughters shall lose their positions because their father has been—­what shall we call it—­criminally negligent of them.

RUTH. [Rising.] How dare you!  You are to blame for it all.  If you say another word injurious to my brother’s memory, I’ll leave this house and let you starve for all I’ll do for you.

BLANCHE.  Aunt Ruth, please, for father’s sake—­

CLARA.  Well, this house is ours, anyway!

BLANCHE.  That is what I’ve been thinking of.  The house is yours.  It’s huge.  You don’t need it.  You must either give it up altogether—­

MRS. HUNTER. [Interrupts.] What!  Leave it?  My house!  Never!

BLANCHE.  Or—­let out floors to one or two friends,—­bachelor friends. 
Mr. Mason, perhaps—­

CLARA. [Interrupts, rising, furious.] Take in boarders!

MRS. HUNTER. [Who has listened aghast, now rises in outraged dignity; she stands a moment glaring at BLANCHE, then speaks.] Take—­[She chokes.] That is the last straw!

[And she sweeps from the room Right.

CLARA.  Mama!  Mama!

[She goes out after her mother.

[The other three women watch the two leave the room, then turn and look at each other.