dining-room door._)

MURRAY (_in a low voice_). Listen to them laugh. Did you ever
notice--perhaps it's my imagination--how forced they act on Saturday
mornings before they're weighed?

EILEEN (_dully_). No.

MURRAY. Can't you tell me that secret now? No one'll hear.

EILEEN (_vehemently_). No, no, how could I? Don't speak of it!

(_A sudden silence falls on all the groups at once. Their eyes,
by a common impulse, turn quickly towards the door to the
hall._)

A WOMAN (_nervously--as if this moment's silent pause oppressed her._)
Play something, Peters. They ain't coming yet.

(Peters, _a stupid-looking young fellow with a sly, twisted
smirk which gives him the appearance of perpetually winking his
eye, detaches himself from a group on the right. All join in with
urging exclamations: "Go on, Peters! Go to it! Pedal up, Pete!
Give us a rag! That's the boy, Peters!" etc._)

PETERS. Sure, if I got time.

(_He goes to the pianola and puts in a roll. The mingled
conversation and laughter bursts forth again as he sits on the
bench and starts pedalling._)

MURRAY (_disgustedly_). It's sure good to think I won't have to
listen to that old tin-pan being banged much longer!

(_The music interrupts him--a quick rag. The patients brighten,
hum, whistle, sway their heads or tap their feet in time to the
tune._ Doctor Stanton _and_ Doctor Simms _appear in the
doorway from the hall. All eyes are turned on them._)

STANTON (_raising his voice_). They all seem to be here, Doctor. We
might as well start.

(Mrs. Turner, _the matron, comes in behind them--a stout,
motherly, capable-looking woman with grey hair. She hears_
Stanton's _remark._)

MRS. TURNER. And take temperatures after, Doctor?

STANTON. Yes, Mrs. Turner. I think that's better to-day.

MRS. TURNER. All right, Doctor.

(Stanton _and the assistant go out._ Mrs. Turner _advances a step
or so into the room and looks from one group of patients to the
other, inclining her head and smiling benevolently. All force
smiles and nod in recognition of her greeting._ Peters, _at the
pianola, lets the music slow down, glancing questioningly at the
matron to see if she is going to order it stopped. Then,
encouraged by her smile, his feet pedal harder than ever._)

MURRAY. Look at old Mrs. Grundy's eyes pinned on us!