their child is to fare in them. Very frightened ghosts, Robert. I have thought so long of how I was to be within hail of my girl at this time, holding her hand--my Amy, my child.' COLONEL. 'That is just how it is all to turn out, my Alice.' ALICE, shivering, 'Yes, isn't it, isn't it?' COLONEL. 'You dear excitable, of course it is.' ALICE, like one defying him, 'But even though it were not, though I had come back too late, though my daughter had become a woman without a mother's guidance, though she were a bad woman--' COLONEL. 'Alice.' ALICE. 'Though some cur of a man--Robert, it wouldn't affect my love for her, I should love her more than ever. If all others turned from her, if you turned from her, Robert--how I should love her then.' COLONEL. 'Alice, don't talk of such things.' But she continues to talk of them, for she sees that the door is ajar, and what she says now is really to comfort Amy. Every word of it is a kiss for Amy. ALICE, smiling through her fears, 'I was only telling you that nothing could make any difference in my love for Amy. That was all; and, of course, if she has ever been a little foolish, light-headed--at that age one often is--why, a mother would soon put all that right; she would just take her girl in her arms and they would talk it over, and the poor child's troubles would vanish.' Still for Amy's comfort, 'And do you think I should repeat any of Amy's confidences to you, Robert?' Gaily, 'Not a word, sir! She might be sure of that.' COLONEL. 'A pretty way to treat a father. But you will never persuade me that there is any serious flaw in Amy.' ALICE. 'I'll never try, dear.' COLONEL. 'As for this little tantrum of locking herself into her room, however, we must have it out with her.' ALICE. 'The first thing to-morrow.' COLONEL. 'Not a bit of it. The first thing the moment we get home.' ALICE, now up against a new danger, 'You forget, dear, that she has gone to bed.' COLONEL. 'We'll soon rout her out of bed.'