o you want here? Always
sucking something, aren't you?

[Getting no reply from Tibby JARLAND, she passes out. Tibby
comes in, looks round, takes a large sweet out of her mouth,
contemplates it, and puts it back again. Then, in a perfunctory
and very stolid fashion, she looks about the floor, as if she
had been told to find something. While she is finding nothing
and sucking her sweet, her sister MERCY comes in furtively,
still frowning and vindictive.]

MERCY. What! Haven't you found it, Tibby? Get along with 'ee,
then!

[She accelerates the stolid Tissy's departure with a smack,
searches under the seat, finds and picks up the deserted
sixpence. Then very quickly she goes to the door: But it is
opened before she reaches it, and, finding herself caught, she
slips behind the chintz window-curtain. A woman has entered,
who is clearly the original of the large photograph. She is not
strictly pretty, but there is charm in her pale, resolute face,
with its mocking lips, flexible brows, and greenish eyes, whose
lids, square above them, have short, dark lashes. She is
dressed in blue, and her fair hair is coiled up under a cap and
motor-veil. She comes in swiftly, and closes the door behind
her; becomes irresolute; then, suddenly deciding, moves towards
the door into the house. MERCY slips from behind her curtain to
make off, but at that moment the door into the house is opened,
and she has at once to slip back again into covert. It is Ivy
who has appeared.]

IVY. [Amazed] Oh! Mrs. Strangway!

[Evidently disconcerted by this appearance, BEATRICE STRANGWAY
pulls herself together and confronts the child with a smile.]

BEATRICE. Well, Ivy--you've grown! You didn't expect me, did you?

IVY. No, Mrs. Strangway; but I hoped yu'd be comin' soon.

BEATRICE. Ah! Yes. Is Mr. Strangway in?

IVY. [Hypnotized by those faintly smiling lips] Yes--oh, yes! He's
writin' his sermon in the little room. He will be glad!

BEATRICE. [Going a little closer, and never taking her eyes off the
child] Yes. Now, Ivy; will you do something for me?

IVY. [Fluttering] Oh, yes, Mrs. Strangway.

BEATRICE. Quite sure?

IVY. Oh, yes!

BEATRICE. Are you old enough to keep a secret?

IVY. [Nodding] I'm fourteen now.

BEATRICE. Well, then--, I don't want anybody but Mr. Strangway to