FullReads

MRS. ROBERTS.
“And why don’t we always go down in that way?”

LAWTON.
“Because sometimes the walls of the elevator shaft give out.”

MRS. ROBERTS.
“And what then?”

LAWTON.
“Then the elevator stops more abruptly. I had a friend who tried it when this happened.”

MRS. ROBERTS.
“And what did he do?”

LAWTON.
“Stepped out of the elevator; laughed; cried; went home; got into bed: and did not get up for six weeks. Nervous shock. He was fortunate.”

MRS. MILLER.
“I shouldn’t think you’d want an air-cushion on YOUR elevator, Mrs. Roberts.”

MRS. ROBERTS.
“No, indeed! Horrid!” The bell rings. “Edward, YOU go and see if that’s Aunt Mary.”

MRS. MILLER.
“It’s Mr. Miller, I know.”

BEMIS.
“Or my son.”

LAWTON.
“My voice is for Mrs. Roberts’s brother. I’ve given up all hopes of my daughter.”

ROBERTS,
without: “Oh, Curwen! Glad to see you! Thought you were my wife’s aunt.”

LAWTON,
at a suppressed sigh from MRS. ROBERTS: “It’s one of his jokes, Mrs. Roberts. Of course it’s your aunt.”

MRS. ROBERTS,
through her set teeth, smilingly: “Oh, if it IS, I’ll make him suffer for it.”

MR. CURWEN,
without: “No, I hated to wait, so I walked up.”

LAWTON.
“It is Mr. Curwen, after all, Mrs. Roberts. Now let me see how a lady transmutes a frown of threatened vengeance into a smile of society welcome.”

MRS. ROBERTS.
“Well, look!” To MR. CURWEN, who enters, followed by her husband: “Ah, Mr. Curwen! So glad to see you. You know all our friends here–Mrs. Miller, Dr. Lawton, and Mr. Bemis?”

CURWEN,
smiling and bowing, and shaking hands right and left: “Very glad–very happy–pleased to know you.”

MRS. ROBERTS,
behind her fan to Dr. Lawton: “Didn’t I do it beautifully?”

LAWTON,
behind his hand: “Wonderfully! And so unconscious of the fact that he hasn’t his wife with him.”

MRS. ROBERTS,
in great astonishment, to Mr. Curwen: “Where in the world is Mrs. Curwen?”

CURWEN.
“Oh–oh–she’ll be here. I thought she was here. She started from home with two right-hand gloves, and I had to go back for a left, and I–I suppose–Good heavens!” pulling the glove out of his pocket. “I ought to have sent it to her in the ladies’ dressing-room.” He remains with the glove held up before him, in spectacular stupefaction.

LAWTON.
“Only imagine what Mrs. Curwen would be saying of you if she were in the dressing-room.”

ROBERTS.
“Mr. Curwen felt so sure she was there that he wouldn’t wait to take the elevator, and walked up.” Another ring is heard. “Shall I go and meet your aunt NOW, my dear?”

MRS. ROBERTS.
“No, indeed! She may come in now with all the formality she chooses, and I will receive her excuses in state.” She waves her fan softly to and fro, concealing a murmur of trepidation under an indignant air, till the portiere opens, and MR. WILLIS CAMPBELL enters. Then MRS. ROBERTS breaks in nervous agitation “Why, Willis! Where’s Aunt Mary?”

MRS. MILLER.
“And Mr. Miller?”

CURWEN.
“And Mrs. Curwen?”

LAWTON.
“And my daughter?”

BEMIS.
“And my son?”

MR. CAMPBELL
, looking tranquilly round on the faces of his interrogators: “Is it a conundrum?”

MRS. ROBERTS,
mingling a real distress with an effort of mock-heroic solemnity: “It is a tragedy! O Willis dear! it’s what you see–what you hear; a niece without an aunt, a wife without a husband, a father without a son, and another father without a daughter.”