MRS. HUNTER. Oh, yes, but that's weak and foolish, Jessie. No,
Blanche--[_Sitting again._]--I'm too exhausted to move. Ring for tea.

[BLANCHE _rings the bell beside the mantel._

CLARA. [_Crossing to piano, forgets and starts to play a music-hall
song, but_ MRS. HUNTER _stops her._] Oh, yes, tea! I'm starved!

MRS. HUNTER. Clara, darling! As if you could be hungry at such a time!

[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_!