HAW. If he were in earnest he'd marry, instead, one of at least
two girls I know of--not this one.

JOHNSTONE. Oh, come, there's no reason why he should do a quixotic
thing like that, he has a future before him.

FANSHAW. He has their futures before him.

JOHNSTONE. Don't preach. Why should he be dragged down--

FANSHAW. [_Interrupting._] To where he dragged them?

JOHNSTONE. Exactly; Fletcher's no fool. And then there's Mr. Dawson.
He swears by Fletcher now; they're regular pals.

FANSHAW. Ever since Mr. Wolton's death. I don't understand it.

DOUGLAS. [_Coming down left._] Yes, Dawson really believes in
Fletcher--well, perhaps he's right. There must be some good in
everybody, and perhaps Fletcher is just beginning to come to the top.
Let's hope so.

JOHNSTONE. Hang it, fellows, brace up anyway. This isn't a funeral,
you know. Hello, there's the organ. [_Organ music begins, and
selections appropriate and usual on such occasions continue
uninterruptedly._] The people will be coming now. [_He exits._] _Two
other ushers make a movement, throwing off a certain lazy, nonchalant
manner, and getting themselves into more dignified readiness for their
duties._

DOUGLAS. [_Rises, crosses to left._] I tell you, Fanshaw, this is a
hard day for me.

FANSHAW. But I'm glad you decided to come. It would have made all
sorts of gossip if you hadn't.

DOUGLAS. [_Sighs._] Yes. Anyway, as it's got to be now, we must all
make the best of it.

FANSHAW. No one besides me dreams your life is still wrapped up in
Marion Wolton.

DOUGLAS. [_Embarrassed, but pleasantly. With a half laugh._] And I
suppose that ought to be some consolation, but I don't know as it is.
However, I shall never be able to thank you enough for the comfort
you've been. A man must have some one to talk to. And it isn't every
fellow who can have a friend like you.

FANSHAW. [_Embarrassed, but pleased._] Shut up! Here's Fletcher's
mother; she came on from Richmond yesterday. [_He goes down aisle to
meet her._] And behind are those girls they want put into the front
pews. [FANSHAW _and_ DOUGLAS _exeunt. At the same moment that the two
disappear_, MRS. FLETCHER _appears on the arm of the third usher_,
TRIMMINS.

MRS. FLETCHER. [_To_ TRIMMINS, _as he shows her into the first pew
left._] You know Mrs. Wolton, of course?

TRIMMINS. The bride's mother? [_Bows in affirmative._

MRS. FLETCHER. When she comes, won't you show her in here with me,
please? [TRIMMI