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MISS SUSAN. Pleasure! Oh, Phoebe.
PHOEBE. 'That they will resume school on the 5th of next month.
Music, embroidery, the backboard, and all the elegancies of the mind.
Latin--shall we say algebra?'
MISS SUSAN. I refuse to write algebra.
PHOEBE. --for beginners.
MISS SUSAN. I refuse. There is only one thing I can write; it writes itself in my head all day. 'Miss Susan Throssel presents her compliments to the Misses Willoughby and Miss Henrietta Turnbull, and requests the honour of their presence at the nuptials of her sister Phoebe and Captain Valentine Brown.'
PHOEBE. Susan!
MISS SUSAN. Phoebe! (_A door is heard banging._) He has returned!
PHOEBE. Oh cruel, cruel. Susan, I am so alarmed.
MISS SUSAN. I will face him.
PHOEBE. Nay, if it must be, I will.
(_But when he enters he is not very terrible._)
VALENTINE. Miss Phoebe, it is not raining, but your face is wet. I wish always to kiss you when your face is wet.
PHOEBE. Susan!
VALENTINE. Miss Livvy will never trouble you any more, Miss Susan. I have sent her home.
MISS SUSAN. Oh, sir, how can you invent such a story for us.
VALENTINE. I did not. I invented it for the Misses Willoughby and Miss Henrietta, who from their windows watched me put her into my carriage. Patty accompanies her, and in a few hours Patty will return alone.
MISS SUSAN. Phoebe, he has got rid of Livvy!
PHOEBE. Susan, his face hasn't changed!
VALENTINE. Dear Phoebe Throssel, will you be Phoebe Brown?
PHOEBE (_quivering_). You know everything? And that I am not a garden?
VALENTINE. I know everything, ma'am--except that.
PHOEBE (_so very glad to be prim at the end_). Sir, the dictates of my heart enjoin me to accept your too flattering offer. (_He puts her cap in his pocket. He kisses her_. MISS SUSAN _is about to steal away._) Oh, sir, Susan also. (_He kisses_ MISS SUSAN _also; and here we bid them good-bye._)
The End.
