Mrs. Schiller.
Margaret.
Inspector.
Is she doing anything?
Mrs. Schiller.
No, but that's not her fault. Since her father's
death she's been out every day looking for a situation
as governess. She's out now, if you wish to know.
Inspector.
Clever girl, isn't she?
Mrs. Schiller.
The cleverest girl in London. The best one, too.
But it's no use—she can get nothing.
[The gentleman at back now steps down. During the foregoing dialogue he has been seen at fireplace, looking at telegram, reading it, and putting it into his pocket.
Gentleman.
What is your niece like to look upon? Tall and
dark, isn't she?
Mrs. Schiller.
Yes, she is.
Gentleman.
Has a strong, intelligent face, and large black eyes—isn't that so?
Mrs. Schiller.
Yes, indeed, and—but here is Margaret Schiller
herself, so you can judge for yourself, sir.
