[She stops, seeing Miss beech signing to her with both hands.]

Mrs. Hope. [Sharply.] What is it, Peachey?

Miss beech. [Selecting a finger.] Pricked meself!

Mrs. Hope.  Let’s look!

     [She bends to look, but Miss beech places the finger in her
     mouth.]

Rose. [Glancing askance at the Colonel.] If you please, Mum, it’s below the waist; I think I can manage with the dummy.

Mrs. Hope.  Well, you can try. [Opening her letter as Rose retires.]
Here’s Molly about her train.

Miss beech.  Is there a letter for me?

Mrs. Hope.  No, Peachey.

Miss beech.  There never is.

Colonel.  What’s that?  You got four by the first post.

Miss beech.  Exceptions!

Colonel. [Looking over his glasses.] Why!  You know, you get ’em every day!

Mrs. Hope.  Molly says she’ll be down by the eleven thirty. [In an injured voice.] She’ll be here in half an hour! [Reading with disapproval from the letter.] “Maurice Lever is coming down by the same train to see Mr. Henty about the Tocopala Gold Mine.  Could you give him a bed for the night?”

     [Silence, slight but ominous.]

Colonel. [Calling into his aid his sacred hospitality.] Of course we must give him a bed!

Mrs. Hope.  Just like a man!  What room I should like to know!

Colonel.  Pink.

Mrs. Hope.  As if Molly wouldn’t have the pink!

Colonel. [Ruefully.] I thought she’d have the blue!

Mrs. Hope.  You know perfectly well it’s full of earwigs, Tom.  I killed ten there yesterday morning.

Miss beech.  Poor creatures!

Mrs. Hope.  I don’t know that I approve of this Mr. Lever’s dancing attendance.  Molly’s only thirty-six.

Colonel. [In a high voice.] You can’t refuse him a bed; I never heard of such a thing.

Mrs. Hope. [Reading from the letter.] “This gold mine seems to be a splendid chance. [She glances at the Colonel.] I’ve put all my spare cash into it.  They’re issuing some Preference shares now; if Uncle Tom wants an investment”—­[She pauses, then in a changed, decided voice ]—­Well, I suppose I shall have to screw him in somehow.

Colonel.  What’s that about gold mines?  Gambling nonsense!  Molly ought to know my views.

Mrs. Hope. [Folding the letter away out of her consciousness.] Oh! your views!  This may be a specially good chance.

Miss beech.  Ahem!  Special case!

Mrs. Hope. [Paying no attention.] I ’m sick of these 3 per cent. dividends.  When you’ve only got so little money, to put it all into that India Stock, when it might be earning 6 per cent. at least, quite safely!  There are ever so many things I want.