n the little supper-table beside
them. They crash on the floor. He and_ MRS. WOLTON _both
start._

DOUGLAS. Oh! Mrs. Wolton, forgive me; how clumsy! [_Starts to pick
up._

MRS. WOLTON. No, never mind. [_As_ SERVANT _enters_.] Here is
Howes-- [_To_ SERVANT.] Howes, see to this, please, at once.

SERVANT. Yes, m'm. Please, Mr. Dawson is here to see Mr. Wolton.

MRS. WOLTON. Mr. Dawson, my brother! Why, he's in Boston, Howes.

SERVANT. Beg pardon, m'm, but he must have returned to-day. Most
important, he says, m'm. Where shall I show him? The ladies and
gentlemen are playing "Blind Man's Buff" in Mr. Wolton's room.

MRS. WOLTON. This is the quietest place. Show Mr. Dawson in here.
Where is Mr. Wolton?

SERVANT. [_Trying not to smile._] He's blind-folded, m'm!

MRS. WOLTON. [_Smiling._] Tell him.

SERVANT. Yes, m'm. [_Exits._

DOUGLAS. Shall we join the game?

MRS. WOLTON. Yes, come, I will take Mr. Wolton's place! I haven't
played Blind Man's Buff for-- [_She calculates a moment, and then
speaks amusedly._] Good gracious!--_never mind how many years_!!

DOUGLAS. Oh, not so many as all that, I am sure! [_They go out at
back._

_Enter_ SERVANT _with_ DAWSON _in cutaway coat and vest and
usual trousers._ SERVANT _at once begins to pick up the
debris made by_ DOUGLAS.

DAWSON. What's going on here, Howes?

SERVANT. A children's party, sir.

DAWSON. A what?

SERVANT. A children's party, sir.

DAWSON. Who are the children?

SERVANT. Mr. Wolton and Miss Wolton, sir, and her friends. Mr.
Wolton's playing games now, sir, but he said he would join you in a
minute.

DAWSON. [_Out loud, involuntarily, but speaking to himself--very
seriously, almost tragically._] Playing games! My God!

SERVANT. Yes, sir--one don't know what rich folks'll do next, sir.
_We're_ in hopes, in the kitchen, they'll take to pretending they're
the servants, sir, and turn us loose in the ball-room. [_Smiling.
Exits._

DAWSON. [_Who hardly hears_ SERVANT.] Playing games, with ruin and
disgrace staring him in the face. [_Enter_ MR. WOLTON.

MR. WOLTON. [_Flushed and gay--an elderly man in knickerbockers and
evening coat, a sort of English Court costume. The handkerchief, which
was tied around his eyes in the game, has slipped, and lies about his
neck._] Well, Fred, what's the good news?

DAWSON. The worst there could be!

MR. WOLTON. [_Half whispers._] What do you mean!!

DAWSON. [_Dragging off the Blind Man