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A Strange Lady enters briskly by the door on the right.
The Ladies.
[Frightened, and speaking low.] The circus woman! The manager's wife!
Mrs. Bernick.
Why, what does this mean!
Martha.
[Starts up.] Ah
!The Lady.
Good-morning, my dear Betty! Good-morning, Martha! Good-morning, brother-in-law!
Mrs. Bernick.
[With a shriek.] Lona
!Bernick.
[Staggers back a step.] Merciful heavens
!Mrs. Holt.
Why, goodness me
!Mrs. Rummel.
It can't be possible
!Hilmar.
What? Ugh!
Mrs. Bernick.
Lona
! Is it really ?Lona.
Really me? Yes, indeed it is. You may fall on my neck and embrace me, for that matter.