[_She takes a third sandwich._
BLANCHE. A great many people loved father.
MRS. HUNTER. [_Irritably._] They ought to've. It was really foolish the
way he was always doing something for somebody! How good these
sandwiches are! [_Spoken very plaintively._
JESSICA. Shall we have to economize now, mother?
MRS. HUNTER. Of course not; how dare you suggest such an injustice to
your _father_, and _before_ the flowers are withered on his grave!
[_Again becoming tearful._
[JORDAN _enters Left with a small silver tray, heaping full of letters._
Has the new writing paper come?
BLANCHE. [_Who takes the letters and looks through them, giving some to
her mother._] Yes.
[BLANCHE _reads a letter, and passes it to_ JESSICA.
MRS. HUNTER. Is the black border broad enough? They said it was the
thing.
CLARA. If you had it any broader, you'd have to get white ink to write
with!
MRS. HUNTER. [_Sweetly._] Don't be impertinent, darling!
[_Reading another letter._
[_Enter_ MISS RUTH HUNTER. _She is an unmarried woman between thirty and
forty years of age, handsome, distinguished; an aristocrat, without any
pretensions; simple, unaffected, and direct in her effort to do
kindnesses where they are not absolutely undeserved. She enters the room
as if she carried with her an atmosphere of pure ozone.
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