[A piano sounds from the room ETHEL has just entered, breaking loudly and gayly into Chaminade's "Elevation." ETHEL'S voice is heard for a moment, also, singing.]

She has flown to her piano. It looks well, indeed--our little enterprise.

HAWCASTLE [grimly]. It's time. If Almeric had been anything but a clumsy oof he'd have made her settle it weeks ago!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [quickly]. You are invidious, mon ami! My affair is not settled--am _I_ a clumsy oof?

HAWCASTLE [leaning toward her across the table and speaking sharply and earnestly]. No, Helene. _Your_ little American, brother Horace, is so in love with you, if you asked him suddenly, "Is this day or night?" he would answer, "It's Helene." But he's too shy to speak. You're a woman--you can't press matters; but Almeric's a man--he can. He can urge an immediate marriage, which means an immediate settlement, and a direct one.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [seriously, quickly]. It will not be small, that settlement?

[He shakes his head grimly, leaning back to look at her. She continues eagerly.]

You have decide' what sum?

[He nods decidedly.]

What?

HAWCASTLE [sharply, with determination, yet quietly]. A hundred and fifty thousand pounds!

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [excited and breathless]. My friend! Will she?

[Turns and stares toward ETHEL'S room, where the piano is still heard softly playing.]

HAWCASTLE. Not for Almeric, but to be the future Countess of Hawcastle.

My sister-in-law hasn't been her chaperone for a year for nothing. And, by Jove, she hasn't done it for nothing, either!

[He laughs grimly, moving back from the table.]

But she's deserved all I shall allow her.

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [coldly]. Why?

HAWCASTLE [rising]. It was she who found these people. Indeed, we might say that both you and I owe her something also. [Comes around behind table to MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY.] Even a less captious respectability than Lady Creech's might have looked askance at the long friendship [kisses her hand] which has existed between us. Yet she has always countenanced us, though she must have guessed--a great many things. And she will help us to urge an immediate marriage. You know as well as I do that unless it is immediate, there'll be the devil to pay. Don't miss _that_ essential: something must be done at once. We're at the breaking-point--if you like the words--a most d.a.m.nable insolvency.

[Enter ALMERIC from the grove. He is a fair, fresh-colored Englishman of twenty-five, handsome in a rather vacuous way. He wears white duck riding-breeches, light-tan leather riding-gaiters and shoes, a riding-coat of white duck, a waistcoat light tan in shade, and a high riding-stock, the collar of which is white, the "puffed" tie pink; a Panama hat with a fold of light tan and white silk round the crown.

Carries a riding-crop.]

ALMERIC [as he enters]. h.e.l.lo, Governor!

[His voice is habitually loud and his accent somewhat foppish, having a little of the "Guardsman" affectation of languor and indifference.]

Howdy, Countess!

[He drops into a chair at the breakfast-table with a slight effect of sprawling.]

HAWCASTLE [sharply]. Almeric!

ALMERIC. Out riding a bit ago, you know, with Miss Granger-Simpson.

Rippin' girl, _isn't_ she?

HAWCASTLE [leaning across the table toward him, anxiously]. Go on!

ALMERIC [continuing, slapping his gaiters carelessly with his crop].

Didn't stop with her, though.

HAWCASTLE [angrily]. Why not?

ALMERIC. A sort of man in the village got me to go look at a bull-terrier pup. Wonderful little beast for points. Jolly luck--_wasn't_ it? He's got a _head_ on him--

HAWCASTLE [bitterly]. We'll concede his _tremendous_ advantage over you in that respect.

[Throws his cigar disgustedly into one of the coffee-cups on the table.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [eagerly]. Is that _all_ you have to tell us?

ALMERIC. Oh no! She accepted me.

[HAWCASTLE drops into a chair with a long breath of relief.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [waving her parasol]. Enfin! Bravo! And will she let it be soon?

ALMERIC [sincerely]. I dare say there'll be no row about that; I've made her aw'fly happy.

HAWCASTLE. On my soul, I believe you're right--and thank G.o.d you are!

[Rises as he speaks and walks up centre. Breaks off short as he sees HORACE.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "OH NO! SHE ACCEPTED ME"]

Here's the brother--attention now!

[HORACE enters the hotel. He is a boyish-looking American of twenty-two, smooth-shaven. He wears white flannels, the coat double-breasted and b.u.t.toned, the tie is light blue "puffing" fastened with a large pearl.

He wears light-yellow chamois gloves, white shoes, a small, stiff English straw hat with blue-and-white ribbon. When he speaks it is with a strong "English accent," which he sometimes forgets. At present he is flushed and almost overcome with happy emotion. As he comes down the steps MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY rushes toward him, taking both his hands.]

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [excitedly]. Ah, my dear Horace Granger-Simpson! Has your sister told you?

HORACE [radiant, but almost tearful]. She has, indeed. I a.s.sure you I'm quite overcome.

[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY, dropping his hands, laughs deprecatingly, and steps back from him.]

Really, I a.s.sure you.

HAWCASTLE [shaking hands with him very heartily]. My dear young friend, not at all, not at all.

HORACE [fanning himself with his hat and wiping his brow]. I a.s.sure you I am, I a.s.sure you I am--it's quite overpowering--_isn't_ it?

MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Ah, poor Monsieur Horace!