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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.
