MRS. CLANDON (softly). Dear Dolly: don't let us interrupt Mr.
McComas.

McCOMAS (emphatically). Thank you, Mrs. Clandon. Thank you. (To
Dolly.) Your father is fifty-seven.

DOLLY (with a bound, startled and excited). Fifty-seven! Where does
he live?

MRS. CLANDON (remonstrating). Dolly, Dolly!

McCOMAS (stopping her). Let me answer that, Mrs. Clandon. The
answer will surprise you considerably. He lives in this town. (Mrs.
Clandon rises. She and Gloria look at one another in the greatest
consternation.)

DOLLY (with conviction). I knew it! Phil: Chalkstones is our
father.

McCOMAS. Chalkstones!

DOLLY. Oh, Crampstones, or whatever it is. He said I was like his
mother. I knew he must mean his daughter.

PHILIP (very seriously). Mr. McComas: I desire to consider your
feelings in every possible way: but I warn you that if you stretch the
long arm of coincidence to the length of telling me that Mr. Crampton of
this town is my father, I shall decline to entertain the information for
a moment.