CLARA.  You talk like Jess! [Throws another disk.] You know Jess earns her own living.  She goes around to smart women’s houses answering their invitations and letters for ’em.  She calls it being a visiting secretary, but I tell her she’s a co-respon-dent!

[Throws a disk.

[WARDEN and MASON enter from behind the house quickly, with a manner of suppressed excitement.  They are surprised to find CLARA and TROTTER.

WARDEN.  Why, here they are!

MASON.  No, only Miss Clara and Trotter.

WARDEN.  Lucky I met you—­you must take me back in your sleigh.

MASON.  Yes, the riding’s beastly.

TROTTER.  Hello!  I say, were you invited?

CLARA.  Merry Christmas!

WARDEN.  We came to see the Godesbys.

CLARA.  They’ve gone down the road.

MASON.  Sterling isn’t here, is he?

TROTTER.  No, haven’t seen him.

CLARA.  Do you know why we’re here?

[MASON and WARDEN are embarrassed.

MASON.  Yes—­er—­er—­a—­many happy returns, Mr. Trotter.

TROTTER.  It’s a great day for me, Mr. Mason!

WARDEN.  Wish you joy, Trotter!

[Embarrassed and not going near him. TROTTER rushes eagerly to him and grasps his hand warmly.

TROTTER.  Thank you, old man!  I say! Thank you!

MASON.  Miss Clara, would you do me the great favor of going down the road and hurrying the Godesbys back if you see them?

CLARA.  Yes, I don’t mind; come along, Trotty!

WARDEN.  You must excuse Trotter.  I want a talk with him if he will give me five minutes.

CLARA.  Oh, certainly.

[She goes out Left behind the house.

WARDEN. [To MASON.] Will you see Mrs. Hunter?

TROTTER.  I beg your pardon, Mrs. Trotter!

WARDEN. [Politely.] I beg yours. [To MASON.] See Mrs. Trotter.

MASON. [Aside to WARDEN.] You’re going to ask him to go on Dick’s note for Ryder?

WARDEN. [In a low voice.] Yes.

MASON.  You’re a wonder!  As if he would!

WARDEN. Somebody must, and there’s nobody else.  That boy and that mother have got to be saved!

MASON.  I’m sorry my name’s no good for us.

WARDEN.  And mine mustn’t be used.

MASON.  No, indeed!  The minute that was done, there’d be a new complication, and more trouble would tumble down on Mrs. Sterling’s head.  Good luck.

[Shakes his hand and enters the house.

TROTTER.  What’s up? You haven’t come to kick about my wedding, have you?  I wouldn’t stand for that, you know!

WARDEN.  It’s not that, Mr. Trotter.  Your wife’s son-in-law, Sterling, has turned out a blackguard; he has had intrusted to him Miss Ruth Hunter’s money and several other people’s, and he’s used it all for speculation of his own.