CLARA.  That’s nothing new!

BLANCHE.  Aunt Ruth, let us talk some other time.

MRS. HUNTER.  Oh, if we are in the way, we’ll go!

[Rises.

CLARA.  Yes, come on, let’s go to Atlantic City.

MRS. HUNTER.  No, I’d rather go to Lakewood.

CLARA.  Oh, pshaw, Lakewood’s no fun!  I’m surprised you don’t say go to
Aiken, North Carolina.

MRS. HUNTER.  Mr. Trotter says we can’t leave town anyway while Blanche is in this trouble.

BLANCHE.  Mother, please discuss your affairs somewhere else.

RUTH.  And if I may be permitted to suggest, you will find Mr. Trotter’s advice always pretty good to follow.  That young man has better qualities than we have suspected.  I have some thing to thank him for; will you be good enough to ask him to come and see me?

MRS. HUNTER.  He will not go to your house with my permission.  I shall tell him you have never asked me inside your door.

CLARA.  Mother, if you ask me—­[MRS. HUNTER interjects “Which I don’t,” but CLARA continues without paying any attention to the interruption.]—­I don’t think Mr. Trotter is going to cry himself to sleep for your permission about anything!

MRS. HUNTER. [To BLANCHE.] Good-by, my dear; if you want me, let me know; I’ll be glad to do anything I can.  I’m staying at the Waldorf.

CLARA.  It’s full of people from Kansas and Wyoming Territory come to hear the Opera!

RUTH.  A little western blood wouldn’t hurt our New York life a bit!

CLARA.  Ah!  Got you there!  The west is the place where the divorces come from!

MRS. HUNTER. [Laughs.] What’s the matter with Providence?  I think Rhode Island tips the scales pretty even for the east!

BLANCHE.  Please go, mother; please leave me for a little while.

MRS. HUNTER.  Oh, very well, good-by! [LEONARD enters Right with a Christmas parcel, which he places on the table Right.] Dear me, have you had all these Christmas presents and not opened them?

BLANCHE.  It is only little Richard in this house who is celebrating Christmas to-day.

MRS. HUNTER.  It’s a terrible affair; I only hope the newspapers won’t get hold of it. [To LEONARD.] If any women come here asking for me who look like ladies, don’t let ’em in!  They ain’t my friends; they’re reporters.

[LEONARD bows and goes out.

CLARA.  I’m awfully sorry, Blanche, I honestly am; but I think you’ll have only yourself to blame if you don’t strike out now and throw Dick over.  Good-by!

[MRS. HUNTER and CLARA go out Right.

BLANCHE.  I wish they wouldn’t advise me to do what I want to.

RUTH.  Ah!

BLANCHE.  But who do I harm by it?  Surely, it wouldn’t be for his good to be brought up under the influence of his father!