Sir Robert.
[At desk.] Freda is out, you say?
Lady Dorothy.
[At tree.] Yes, out for the evening. She has filled
the child with such wonderful stories of what Christmas trees are like in her country, that goodness
knows if the little minx won't come creeping down
in the night to see if the angels have lit up hers for
her. [She switches up the lights of the Christmas tree.]
There! Isn't that beautiful?
Sir Robert.
[Absently.] Beautiful! [As if reflecting.] Has Miss
Michel ever been out at night before, Dorothy?
Lady Dorothy.
[Switching off lights and going on as before.] Never.
But it's Christmas Eve—she wanted to see the shops
and the streets, I suppose.
Sir Robert.
[Relieved.] Ah!
Lady Dorothy.
She promised to be back in time to put Peggy to
bed, though, and it was a terrible business to get the
child off without her. I had to agree that at midnight the maids should walk in procession through
the house, carrying fairy lamps and singing Christmas
carols.
Sir Robert.
Walk in procession through the house?
