Part 5

[_Tom enters by the door on the right, carrying a table-cover of a bright pattern._]

_Tom._

[_Coming upon Mrs. Mossop, disconcerted._] Oh----!

_Mrs. Mossop._

My first-floor table-cover!

_Tom._

Y--y--yes. [_Exchanging the table-covers._] I thought, as the Telfers have departed, and as their late sitting room is at present vacant, that Miss Trelawny might enjoy the benefit--hey?

_Mrs. Mossop._

[_Snatching up the old table-cover._] Well, I never---! [_She goes out._]

_Avonia._

[_Curling her hair, at the mirror over the mantelpiece._] I say, Tom, I wonder if I've done wrong----

_Tom._

It all depends upon whether you've had the chance.

_Avonia._

I've told Mrs. Mossop the reason they've reduced Rose's salary.

_Tom._

You needn't.

_Avonia._

She had only to ask any other member of the company-----

_Tom._

To have found one who could have kept silent!

_Avonia._

[_Remorsefully._] Oh, I could burn myself!

_Tom._

Besides, it isn't true.

_Avonia._

What?

_Tom._

That Rose Trelawny is no longer up to her work.

_Avonia._

[_Sadly._] Oh, Tom!

_Tom._

It isn't the fact, I say!

_Avonia._

Isn't it the fact that ever since Rose returned from Cavendish Square----?

_Tom._

She has been reserved, subdued, ladylike----

_Avonia._

[_Shrilly._]She was always ladylike!

_Tom._

I'm aware of that!

_Avonia._

Well, then, what do you mean by--?

_Tom._

[_In a rage, turning away._] Oh----!

_Avonia._

[_Heating her irons again._] The idea!

_Tom._

[_Cooling down._] She was always a ladylike actress, on the stage and off it, but now she has developed into a--[_at a loss_] into a----

_Avonia._

[_Scornfully._] Ha!

_Tom._

Into a ladylike human being. These fools at the "Wells"! Can't act, can't she! No, she can no longer _spout_, she can no longer _ladle_, the vapid trash, the--the--the turgid rodomontade----

_Avonia._

[_Doubtfully._] You'd better be careful of your language, Wrench.

_Tom._

[_With a twinkle in his eye--mopping his brow._] You're a married woman, 'Vonia----

_Avonia._

[_Holding her irons to her cheek, modestly._] I know, but still----

_Tom._

Yes, deep down in the well of that girl's nature there has been lying a little, bright, clear pool of genuine refinement, girlish simplicity. And now the bucket has been lowered by love; experience has turned the handle; and up comes the crystal to the top, pure and sparkling. Why, her broken engagement to poor young Gower has really been the making of her! It has transformed her! Can't act, can't she! [__Drawing a long breath.__] How she would play Dora in my comedy!

_Avonia._

Ho, that comedy!

_Tom._

How she would murmur those love-scenes!

_Avonia._

Murder----!

_Tom._

[_Testily._] Murmur. [_Partly to himself._] Do you know, 'Vonia, I had Rose in my mind when I imagined Dora----?

_Avonia._

Ha, ha! you astonish me.

_Tom._

[_Sitting._] And Arthur Gower when I wrote the character of Gerald, Dora's lover. [_In a low voice._] Gerald and Dora--Rose and Arthur--Gerald and Dora. [_Suddenly._] 'Vonia----!

_Avonia._

[_Singeing her hair._] Ah--! oh, lor'! what now?

_Tom._

I wish you could keep a secret.

_Avonia._

Why, can't I?----

_Tom._

Haven't you just been gossiping with Mother Mossop?

_Avonia._

[_Behind his chair, breathlessly, her eyes bolting._]

A secret, Tom?

_Tom._

[_Nodding._] I should like to share it with you, because--you are fond of her too----

_Avonia._

Ah----!

_Tom._

And because the possession of it is worrying me. But there, I can't trust you.

_Avonia._

Mr. Wrench!

_Tom._

No, you're a warm-hearted woman, 'Vonia, but you're a sieve.

_Avonia._

[_Going down upon her knees beside him._] I swear! By all my hopes, Tom Wrench, of hitting 'em as Prince Charming in the coming pantomime, I swear I will not divulge, leave alone tell a living soul, any secret you may intrust to me, or let me know of, concerning Rose Trelawny of the "Wells." Amen!

_Tom._

[_In her ear._] 'Vonia, I know where Arthur Gower is.

_Avonia._

Is! isn't he still in London?

_Tom._

[_Producing a letter mysteriously._] No. When Rose stuck to her refusal to see him--listen--mind, not a word----!

_Avonia._

By all my hopes-----!

_Tom._

[_Checking her_]. All right, all right! [_Reading._] "Theatre Royal, Bristol. Friday---------"

_Avonia._

Theatre Royal, Br----!

_Tom._

Be quiet! [_Reading._] "My dear Mr. Wrench. A whole week, and not a line from you to tell me how Miss Trelawny is. When you are silent I am sleepless at night and a haggard wretch during the day. Young Mr. Kirby, our Walking Gentleman, has been unwell, and the management has given me temporarily some of his business to play------"

_Avonia._

_Arthur._Gower------!

_Tom._

Will you? [_Reading._] "Last night I was allowed to appear as Careless in _The School for Scandal_. Miss Mason, the Lady Teazle, complimented me, but the men said I lacked vigor,"--the old cry!--"and so this morning I am greatly depressed. But I will still persevere, as long as you can assure me that no presuming fellow is paying attention to Miss Trelawny. Oh, how badly she treated me----!"

_Avonia._

[_Following the reading of the letter._] "How badly she treated me----!"

_Tom._

"I will never forgive her--only love her----"

_Avonia._

"Only love her----"

_Tom._

"Only love her, and hope I may some day become a great actor, and, like herself, a gypsy. Yours very gratefully, Arthur Gordon."

_Avonia._

In the Profession!

_Tom._

Bolted from Cavendish Square--went down to Bristol----

_Avonia._

How did he manage it all? [_Tom taps his breast proudly._] But isn't Rose to be told? why shouldn't she be told?

_Tom._

She has hurt the boy, stung him to the quick, and he's proud.

_Avonia._

But she loves him now that she believes he has forgotten her. She only half loved him before. She loves him!

_Tom._

Serve her right.

_Avonia._

Oh, Tom, is she never to know?

_Tom._

[_Folding the letter carefully._] Some day, when he begins to make strides.

_Avonia._

Strides! he's nothing but General Utility at present?

_Tom._

[_Putting the letter in his pocket._] No.

_Avonia._

And how long have you been that?

_Tom._

Ten years.

_Avonia._

[_With a little screech._] Ah--h--h! she ought to be told!

_Tom._

[_Seizing her wrist._] Woman, you won't----!

_Avonia._

[_Raising her disengaged hand._] By all my hopes of hitting 'em----!

_Tom._

All right, I believe you. [_Listening._] Sssh!

[_They rise and separate, he moving to the fire, she to the right, as Rose enters. Rose is now a grave, dignified, somewhat dreamy young woman._]

_Rose._

[_Looking from Tom to Avonia._] Ah----?

_Tom. and Avonia._

Good-morning.

_Rose._

[_Kissing Avonia._] Visitors!

_Avonia._.

My fire's so black [_showing her irons_]; I thought you wouldn't mind----

_Rose._

[_Removing her gloves._] Of course not. [_Seeing the table-cover._] Oh----!

_Tom._

Mrs. Mossop. asked me to bring that upstairs. It was in the Telfers' room, you know, and she fancied-----

_Rose._

How good of her! thanks, Tom. [_Taking off her hat and mantle._] Poor Mr. and Mrs. Telfer! they still wander mournfully about the "Wells"; they can get nothing to do.

[_Carrying her hat and umbrella, she disappears through the curtains._]

_Tom._

[_To Avonia, in a whisper, across the room._] The Telfers----!

_Avonia._

Eh?

_Tom._

She's been giving 'em money.

_Avonia._

Yes.

_Tom._

Damn!

_Rose._

[_Reappearing._] What are yous saying about me.

_Avonia._

I was wondering whether you'd lend me that belt you bought for Ophelia; to wear during the first two or three weeks of the pantomime---

_Rose._

Certainly, 'Vonia, to wear throughout----

_Avonia._

[_Embracing her._] No, it's too good; I'd rather fake one for the rest of the time. [_Looking into her face._] What's the matter?

_Rose._

I will make you a present of the belt, 'Vonia, if you will accept it. I bought it when I came back to the "Wells," thinking everything would go on as before. But--it's of no use; they tell me I cannot act effectively any longer----

_Tom._

[_Indignantly. _] Effectively----!

_Rose._

First, as you know, they reduce my salary-----

_Tom. and Avonia._

[_With clenched hands._] Yes!

_Rose._

And now, this morning--[_sitting_] you can guess----

_Avonia._

[_Hoarsely._] Got your notice?

_Rose._

Yes.

_Tom. and Avonia._

Oh--h--h!

_Rose._

[_After a litle pause._] Poor mother! I hope she doesn't see. [_Overwhelmed, Avonia and Tom sit._] I was running through Blanche, my old part in _The Peddler of Marseilles_, when Mr. Burroughs spoke to me. It is true I was doing it tamely, but--it is such nonsense.

_Tom._

Hear, hear!

_Rose._

And then, that poor little song I used to sing on the bridge---

_Avonia._

[_Singing softly._] "Ever of thee I'm fondly-dreaming-----"

_Tom. and Avonia._

[_Singing._] "Thy gentle voice my spirit can cheer."

_Rose._

I told Mr. Burroughs I should cut it out. So ridiculously inappropriate!

_Tom._

And that--did it?

_Rose._

[_Smiling at him._] That did it.

_Avonia._

[_Kneeling beside her, and embracing her tearfully._] My ducky! oh, but there are other theatres besides the "Wells"-----

_Rose._

For me? only where the same trash is acted.

_Avonia._

[_With a sob._] But a few months ago you l--l--liked your work.

_Rose._

Yes [_dreamily_], and then I went to Cavendish Square, engaged to Arthur----[_Tom rises and leans upon the mantelpiece, looking into the fire._] How badly I behaved in Cavendish Square! how unlike a young lady! What if the old folks were overbearing and tyrannical, Arthur could be gentle with them. "They have not many more years in this world," he said--dear boy!--"and anything we can do to make them happy----" And what _did_ I do? _There_ was a chance for me--to be patient, and womanly; and I proved to them that I was nothing but--an actress.

_Avonia._

[_Rising, hurt but still tearful._] It doesn't follow, because one is a---

_Rose._

[_Rising._] Yes, 'Vonia, it does! We are only dolls, partly human, with mechanical limbs that _will_ fall into stagey postures, and heads stuffed with sayings out of rubbishy plays. It isn't the world we live in, merely _a_ world--such a queer little one! I was less than a month in Cavendish Square, and very few people came there; but they were _real_ people--_real!_ For a month I lost the smell of gas and oranges, and the hurry and noise, and the dirt and the slang, and the clownish joking, at the "Wells." I didn't realize at the time the change that was going on in me; I didn't realize it till I came back. And then, by degrees, I discovered what had happened----

[_Tom is now near her. She takes his hand and drops her head upon Avonia's shoulder. Wearily._]

Oh, Tom! oh, 'Vonia------[_From the next room comes the sound of the throwing about of heavy objects, and of Gadd's voice uttering loud imprecations. Alarmed._] Oh----!

_Avonia._

[_Listening attentively._] Sounds like Ferdy. [_She goes to the center door. At the keyhole._] Ferdy! aint you well, darling?

_Gadd._

[_On the other side of the door._]Avonia!

_Avonia._

I'm in Miss Trelawny's room.

_Gadd._

Ah!

_Avonia._

[_To Rose and Tom._] Now, what's put Ferdy out? [_Gadd enters with a wild look._] Ferdinand!

_Tom._

Anything wrong, Gadd?

_Gadd._

Wrong! wrong! [_Sitting._] What d'ye think?

_Avonia._

Tell us!

_Gadd._

I have been asked to appear in the pantomime.

_Avonia._

[_Shocked._] Oh, Ferdy! you!

_Gadd._

I, a serious actor, if ever there was one; a poetic actor----!

_Avonia._

What part, Ferdy?

_Gadd._

The insult, the bitter insult! the gross indignity!

_Avonia._

What part, Ferdy?

_Gadd._

I have not been seen in pantomime for years, not since I shook the dust of the T. R. Stockton from my feet.

_Avonia._

Ferdy, what part?

_Gadd._

I simply looked at Burroughs, when he preferred his request, and swept from the theatre.

_Avonia._

What part, Ferdy?

_Gadd._

A part, too, which is seen for a moment at the opening of the pantomime, and not again till its close.

_Avonia._

Ferdy.

_Gadd._

Eh?

_Avonia._.

What part?

_Gadd._

A character called the Demon of Discontent.

[_Rose turns away to the fireplace; Tom curls himself up on the sofa and is seen to shake with laughter._]

_Avonia._.

[_Walking about indignantly._]Oh! [_Returning to Gadd._] Oh, it's a rotten part! Rose, dear, I assure you, as artist to artist, that part is absolutely rotten. [_To Gadd._] You won't play it, darling?

_Gadd._

[_Rising._] Play it! I would see the "Wells" in ashes first.

_Avonia._.

We shall lose our engagements, Ferdy. I know Burroughs; we shall be out, both of us.

_Gadd._

Of course we shall. D'ye think I have not counted the cost?

_Avonia._

[_Putting her hand in his._] I don't mind, dear--for the sake of your position--[_struck by a sudden thought_] oh!

_Gadd._

What-----?

_Avonia._

There now--we haven't put by!

[_There is a knock at the door._]

_Rose._

Who is that?

_Colpoys._

[_Outside the door._] Is Gadd here, Miss Trelawny?

_Rose._

Yes.

_Colpoys._

I want to see him.

_Gadd._

Wrench, I'll trouble you. Ask Mr. Colpoys whether he approaches me as a friend, an acquaintance, or in his capacity of stage manager at the "Wells"--the tool of Burroughs.

[_Tom opens the door slightly. Gadd and Avonia join Bose at the fireplace._]

_Tom._

[_At the door, solemnly._]Colpoys, are you here as Gadd's bosom friend, or as a mere tool of Burroughs?

[_An inaudible colloquy follows between Tom and Colpoys. Tom's head is outside the door; his legs are seen to move convulsively, and the sound of suppressed laughter is heard._]

_Gadd._

[_Turning._] Well, well?

_Tom._

[_Closing the door sharply, and facing Gadd with great seriousness._] He is here as the tool of Burroughs.

_Gadd._

I will receive him.

[_Tom admits Colpoys, who carries a mean-looking "part," and a letter._]

[_After formally bowing to the ladies._] Oh, Gadd, Mr. Burroughs instructs me to offer you this part in the pantomime. [_Handing the part to Gadd._] Demon of Discontent.

[_Gadd takes the part and flings it to the ground; Avonia picks it up and reads it._]

_Colpoys._

You refuse it?

_Gadd._

I do. [_With dignity._] Acquaint Mr. Burroughs with my decision, and add that I hope his pantomime will prove an utterly mirthless one. May Boxing-night, to those unfortunate enough to find themselves in the theatre, long remain a dismal memory; and may succeeding audiences, scanty and dissatisfied----! [_Colpoys presents Gadd with the letter. Gadd opens it and reads._] I leave. [_Sitting._] The Romeo, the Orlando, the Clifford--leaves!

_Avonia._

[_Coming to Gadd, indicating some lines in the part._] Ferdy, this aint so bad. [_Reading._]=

```"I'm Discontent! from Orkney's isle to Dover

```To make men's bile bile-over I endover-"=

_Gadd._

'Vonia! [_Taking the part from Avonia, with mingled surprise and pleasure._] Ho, ho! no, that's not bad. [_Reading._]=

```Tempers, though sweet, I whip up to a lather,

```Make wives hate husbands, sons wish fathers farther."=

'Vonia, there's is something to lay hold of here! I'll think this over. [_Rising, addressing Colpoys._] Gus, I have thought this over. I play it.

[_They all gather round him, and congratulate him. Avonia embraces and kisses him._]

_Tom. and Colpoys._

That's right!

_Rose._

I'm very pleased, Ferdinand.

_Avonia._

[_Tearfully._] Oh, Ferdy!

_Gadd._

[_In high spirits._] Egad, I play it! Gus, I'll stroll back with you to the "Wells." [_Shaking hands with Rose._] Miss Trelawny-------! [_Avonia accompanies Colpoys and Gadd to the door, clinging to Gadd, who is flourishing the part._] 'Vonia, I see myself in this! [_Kissing her._] Steak for dinner!

[_Gadd and Colpoys go out. Tom shrieks with laughter._]

_Avonia._

[_Turning upon him, angrily and volubly._]Yes, I heard you with Colpoys outside that door, if Gadd didn't. It's a pity, Mr. Wrench, you can't find something better to do----!

_Rose._

[_Pacifically._] Hush, hush, 'Vonia! Tom, assist me with my basket; I'll give 'Vonia her belt----

[_Tom and Rose go behind the curtains and presently emerge, carrying the dress-basket, which they deposit._]

_Avonia._

[_Flouncing across the room._] Making fun of Gadd! an artist to the roots of his hair! There's more talent in Gadd's little finger----!

_Rose._

[_Rummaging among the contents of the basket_] 'Vonia, 'Vonia!

_Avonia._

And if Gadd is to play a demon in the pantomime, what do _you_ figure as, Tom Wrench, among the half a dozen other things? Why, as part of a dragon! Yes, and _which end_---?

_Rose._

[_Quietly to Tom._] Apologize to 'Vonia at once, Tom.

_Tom._

[_Meekly._] Mrs. Gadd, I beg your pardon.

_Avonia._

[_Coming to him and kissing him._] Granted, Tom; but you should be a little more considerate----

_Rose._

[_Holding up the belt._] Here----!

_Avonia._

[_Taking the belt, ecstatically._] Oh, isn't it lovely! Rose, you dear! you sweet thing! [_Singing a few bars of the Jewel song from Faust, then rushing at Rose and embracing her._] I'm going to try my dress on, to show Mrs. Burroughs. Come and help me into it. I'll unlock my door on my side----

[_Tom politely opens the door for her to pass out._] Thank you, Tom--[_kissing him again_] only you should be more considerate toward Gadd----

[_She disappears._]

_Tom._

[_Calling after her._] I will be; I will--[_Shutting the door._] Ha, ha, ha!

_Rose._

[_Smiling._] Hush! poor 'Vonia! [_Mending the fire._] Excuse me, Tom--have you a fire upstairs, in your room, to-day?

_Tom._

Er--n--not to-day--it's Saturday. I never have a fire on a Saturday.

_Rose._

[_Coming to him._] Why not?

_Tom._

[_Looking away from her._] Don't know--creatures of habit---

_Rose._

[_Gently touching his coat-sleeve._] Because if you would like to smoke your pipe by my fire while I'm with 'Vonia----

[_The key is heard to turn in the lock of the center door._]

_Avonia._

[_From the next room._] It's unlocked.

_Rose._

I'm coming.

[_She unbolts the door on her side, and goes into Avonia's room, shutting the door behind her. The lid of the dress-basket is open, showing the contents; a pair of little satin shoes lie at the top. Tom takes up one of the shoes and presses it to his lips. There is a knock at the door. He returns the shoe to the basket, closes the lid, and walks away._]

_Tom._

Yes?

[_The door opens slightly and Imogen is heard._]

_Imogen._

[_Outside._] Is that you, Wrench?

_Tom._

Hullo!

[_Imogen, in out-of-door costume, enters breathlessly._]

_Imogen._

[_Closing the door--speaking rapidly and excitedly._] Mossop said you were in Rose's room----

_Tom._

[_Shaking hands with her._] She'll be here in a few minutes.

_Imogen._

It's you I want. Let me sit down.

_Tom._

[_Going to the armchair._] Here----

_Imogen._

[_Sitting on the right of the table, panting._] Not near the fire----

_Tom._

What's up?

_Imogen._

Oh, Wrench! p'r'aps my fortune's made!

_Tom._

[_Quite calmly._] Congratulate you, Jenny.

_Imogen._

Do be quiet; don't make such a racket. You see, things haven't been going at all satisfactorily at the Olympic lately. There's Miss Puddifant----

_Tom._

I know--no lady.

_Imogen._

_How_ do you know?

_Tom._

Guessed.

_Imogen._

Quite right; and a thousand other annoyances. And at last I took it into my head to consult Mr. Clandon, who married an aunt of mine and lives at Streatham, and he'll lend me five hundred pounds.

_Tom._

What for?

_Imogen._

Towards taking a theatre.

_Tom._

[_Dubiously._] Five hundred----

_Imogen._

It's all he's good for, and he won't advance that unless I can get a further five, or eight, hundred from some other quarter.

_Tom._

What theatre!

_Imogen._

The Pantheon happens to be empty.

_Tom._

Yes; it's been that for the last twenty years.

_Imogen._

Don't throw wet blankets--I mean--[_referring to her tablets, which she carries in her muff_] I've got it all worked out in black and white. There's a deposit required on account of rent--two hundred pounds. Cleaning the theatre--[_looking at Tom_] what do you say?

_Tom._

Cleaning that theatre?

_Imogen._

I say, another two hundred.

_Tom._

That would remove the top-layer-----

_Imogen._

Cost of producing the opening play, five hundred pounds. Balance for emergencies, three hundred. You generally have a balance for emergencies.

_Tom._

You generally have the emergencies, if not the balance?

_Imogen._

Now, the question is, will five hundred produce the play?

_Tom._

What play?

_Imogen._

Your play.

_Tom._

[_Quietly._] My----.

_Imogen._

Your comedy.

_Tom._

[_Turning to the fire--in a low voice._] Rubbish!

_Imogen._

Well, Mr. Clandon thinks it _isn't._ [_He faces her sharply._] I gave it to him to read, and he--well, he's quite taken with it.

_Tom._

[_Walking about, his hands in his pockets, his head down, agitatedly._]Clandon--Landon--what's his name-----?

_Imogen._

Tony Clandon--Anthony Clandon----

_Tom._

[_Choking._] He's a--he's a---

_Imogen._

He's a hop-merchant.

_Tom._

No, he's not--[_sitting on the sofa, leaning his head on his hands_] he's a stunner.

_Imogen._

[_Rising_] So you grasp the position. Theatre--manageress--author--play, found; and eight hundred pounds _wanted!_

_Tom._

[_Rising._] Oh Lord!

_Imogen._

Who's got it?

_Tom._

[_Wildly._] The Queen's got it! Miss Burdett-Coutts has got it!

_Imogen._

Don't be a fool, Wrench. Do you remember old Mr. Morfew, of Duncan Terrace? He used to take great interest in us all at the "Wells." He has money.

_Tom._

He has gout; we don't see him now.

_Imogen._

Gout! How lucky! That means he's at home. Will you run round to Duncan Terrace----?

_Tom._

[_Looking down at his clothes._] I!

_Imogen._

Nonsense, Wrench; we're not asking him to advance money on your clothes.

_Tom._

The clothes are the man, Jenny.

_Imogen._

And the woman------?

_Tom._

The face is the woman; there's the real inequality of the sexes.

_Imogen._

I'll go! Is my face good enough?

_Tom._

[_Enthusiastically._] I should say so!

_Imogen._

[_Taking his hands._] Ha, ha! It has been in my possession longer than you have had your oldest coat, Tom!

_Tom._

Make haste, Jenny!

_Imogen._

[_Running up to the door._] Oh, it will last till I get to Duncan Terrace. [_Turning._] Tom, you may have to read your play to Mr. Morfew. Have you another copy? Uncle Clandon has mine.

_Tom._

[_Holding his head._] I think I have---I don't know-----

_Imogen._

Look for it! Find it! If Morfew wants to hear it, we must strike while the iron's hot.

_Tom._

While the gold's hot!

_Imogen. and Tom._

Ha, ha, ha!

[_Mrs. Mossop enters, showing some signs of excitement._]

_Imogen._

[_Pushing her aside._] Oh, get out of the way, Mrs. Mossop--- [_Imogen departs._]

_Mrs. Mossop._

Upon my----! [_To Tom._] A visitor for Miss Trelawny! Where's Miss Trelawny?

_Tom._

With Mrs. Gadd. Mossop!

_Mrs. Mossop._

Don't bother me now-----

_Tom._

Mossop! The apartments vacated by the Tefferl's. Dare to let 'em without giving me the preference.

_Mrs. Mossop._

You!

_Tom._

[_Seizing her hands and swinging her round._] I may be wealthy, sweet Rebecca![_Embracing her._] I may be rich and honored!

_Mrs. Mossop._

Oh, have done! [_Releasing herself._] My lodgers do take such liberties----

_Tom._

[_At the door, grandly._] Beccy, half a scuttle of coal, to start with.

[_He goes out, leaving the door slightly open._]

_Mrs. Mossop._

[_Knocking at the center door._] Miss Trelawny, my dear! Miss Trelawny!

[_The door opens, a few inches._]

_Rose._

[_Looking out._] Why, what a clatter you and Mr. Wrench have been making-------!

_Mrs. Mossop._

[_Beckoning her mysteriously._] Come here, dear.

_Rose._

[_Closing the center door, and entering the room wonderingly._] Eh?

_Mrs. Mossop._ [_In awe._] Sir William Gower!

_Rose._

Sir William.

_Mrs. Mossop._