mad; as a great favour to me; yes, I have a very particular reason,
but I won't tell you what it is; oh, call me Scotchy as much as you
like, but consent; do, do, do. Thank you, thank you, good-bye.

[She has control of herself now, and is determined not to let it slip
from her again. When they reappear the stubborn one is writing a
letter.]

JOHN. I thought I heard the telephone again.

MAGGIE [looking up from her labours]. It was the Comtesse; she says
she's to invite Lady Sybil to the cottage at the same time.

SYBIL. Me!

JOHN. To invite Sybil? Then of course I won't go, Maggie.

MAGGIE [wondering seemingly at these niceties]. What does it matter?
Is anything to be considered except the speech? [It has been admitted
that she was a little devil.] And, with Sybil on the spot, John, to
help you and inspire you, what a speech it will be!

JOHN [carried away]. Maggie, you really are a very generous woman.

SYBIL [convinced at last]. She is indeed.

JOHN. And you're queer too. How many women in the circumstances would
sit down to write a letter?

MAGGIE. It's a letter to you, John.