Comtesse.  So, madam!

[Maggie is prepared for her.]

Maggie.  I don’t know what you mean.

Comtesse.  Yes, you do.  I mean that there is some one who ‘helps’ our
Mr. Shand.

Maggie.  There’s not.

Comtesse.  And it is a woman, and it’s you.

Maggie.  I help in the little things.

Comtesse.  The little things!  You are the Pin he picked up and that is to make his fortune.  And now what I want to know is whether your John is aware that you help at all.

[John returns, and at once provides the answer.]

John.  Maggie, Comtesse, I’ve done it again!

Maggie.  I’m so glad, John.

[The Comtesse is in an ecstasy.]

Comtesse.  And all because you were not to hedge, Mr. Shand.

[His appeal to her with the wistfulness of a schoolboy makes him rather attractive.]

John.  You won’t tell on me, Comtesse! [He thinks it out.] They had just guessed I would be firm because they know I’m a strong man.  You little saw, Maggie, what a good turn you were doing me when you said you wanted to make another copy of the speech.

[She is dense.]

Maggie.  How, John?

John.  Because now I can alter the end.

[She is enlightened.]

Maggie.  So you can!

John.  Here’s another lucky thing, Maggie:  I hadn’t told the ladies’ committee that I was to hedge, and so they need never know.  Comtesse, I tell you there’s a little cherub who sits up aloft and looks after the career of John Shand.

[The Comtesse looks not aloft but toward the chair at present occupied by Maggie.]

Comtesse.  Where does she sit, Mr. Shand?

[He knows that women are not well read.]

John.  It’s just a figure of speech.

[He returns airily to his committee room; and now again you may hear the click of MAGGIE’s needles.  They no longer annoy the Comtesse; she is setting them to music.]

Comtesse.  It is not down here she sits, Mrs. Shand, knitting a stocking.

Maggie.  No, it isn’t.

Comtesse.  And when I came in I gave him credit for everything; even for the prettiness of the room!

Maggie.  He has beautiful taste.

Comtesse.  Good-bye, Scotchy.

Maggie.  Good-bye, Comtesse, and thank you for coming.

Comtesse.  Good-bye—­Miss Pin.

[Maggie rings genteelly.]

Maggie.  Good-bye.

[The Comtesse is now lost in admiration of her.]

Comtesse.  You divine little wife.  He can’t be worthy of it, no man could be worthy of it.  Why do you do it?

[Maggie shivers a little.]