[JORDAN enters Left.

BLANCHE.  Tea, Jordan.

JORDAN.  Yes, madam.

[He goes out Left.

MRS. HUNTER.  Girls, everybody in town was there!  I’m sure even your father himself couldn’t have complained.

BLANCHE.  Mother!

MRS. HUNTER.  Well, you know he always found fault with my parties being too mixed.  He wouldn’t realize I couldn’t throw over all my old set when I married into his,—­not that I ever acknowledged I was your father’s inferior.  I consider my family was just as good as his, only we were Presbyterians!

BLANCHE.  Mother, dear, take off your gloves.

MRS. HUNTER.  I thought I had. [Crying.] I’m so heartbroken I don’t know what I’m doing.

[Taking off her gloves.

[BLANCHE and CLARA comfort their mother.

JESSICA.  Here’s the tea—­

[JORDAN and LEONARD enter with large, silver tray, with tea, cups, and thin bread-and-butter sandwiches.  They place them on small tea-table which JESSICA arranges for them.

MRS. HUNTER.  I’m afraid I can’t touch it.

[Taking her place behind tea-table and biting eagerly into a sandwich.

JESSICA. [Dryly.] Try.

[BLANCHE pours tea for them all, which they take in turn.

MRS. HUNTER. [Eating.] One thing I was furious about,—­did you see the
Witherspoons here at the house?

CLARA. I did.

MRS. HUNTER.  The idea!  When I’ve never called on them.  They are the worst social pushers I’ve ever known.

[She takes another sandwich.

CLARA.  Trying to make people think they are on our visiting list!  Using even a funeral to get in!

MRS. HUNTER.  But I was glad the Worthings were here, and I thought it sweet of old Mr. Dormer to go even to the cemetery. [Voice breaks a little.] He never goes to balls any more, and, they say, catches cold at the slightest change of temperature.

[She takes a third sandwich.

BLANCHE.  A great many people loved father.

MRS. HUNTER. [Irritably.] They ought to’ve.  It was really foolish the way he was always doing something for somebody!  How good these sandwiches are! [Spoken very plaintively.

JESSICA.  Shall we have to economize now, mother?

MRS. HUNTER.  Of course not; how dare you suggest such an injustice to your father, and before the flowers are withered on his grave!

[Again becoming tearful.

[JORDAN enters Left with a small silver tray, heaping full of letters.

Has the new writing paper come?

BLANCHE. [Who takes the letters and looks through them, giving some to her mother.] Yes.

[BLANCHE reads a letter, and passes it to JESSICA.