Part 7

_Telfer._

Denzil? I've never 'eard of 'im. Will you get to me to-day?

_Tom._

We--we expect to do so.

_Telfer._

Very well. [_Stiffly._] Let me be called in the street. [_He stalks away._]

_Mrs. Telfer._

[_Relieved._] Thank Heaven! I was afraid James would break out.

_Rose._

[_To Mrs. Telfer._] But you, dear Mrs. Telfer--you weren't at the reading--what are _you_ cast for?

_Mrs. Telfer._

I? [_Wiping away a tear._] I am the Wardrobe-mistress of this theatre.

_Rose._

You! [_Embracing her._] Oh! oh!

_Mrs. Telfer._

[_Composing herself._] Miss Trelawny--Rose--my child, if we are set to scrub a floor--and we may come to that yet--let us make up our minds to scrub it legitimately--with dignity----

[_She disappears and is seen no more._]

_O'Dwyer._

Miss Trelawny! come here, my de----

_Tom._

[_To O'Dwyer._] Hush!

_O'Dwyer._

Miss Trelawny!

[_Rose receives her part from O'Dwyer and, after a word or two with Tom and Imogen, joins the two young gentlemen who are in the "second entrance, L." The lady, who has been seated, now rises and crosses to the left, where she meets the keen-faced gentleman, who has finished his conversation with Imogen._]

_The Lady._

[_To the keen-faced gentleman._] I say, Mr. Denzil! who plays Gerald?

_The Gentlemen._

Gerald?

_The Lady._

The man I have my scene with in the third act--the hero---

_The Gentleman._

Oh, yes. Oh, a young gentleman from the country, I understand.

_The Lady._

From the country!

_The Gentleman._

He is coming up by train this morning, Miss Parrott tells me; from Bath or somewhere---

_The Lady._

Well, whoever he is, if he can't play that scene with me decently, my part's not worth rags.

_Tom._

[_To Imogen, who is sitting at the prompt-table._] Er--h'm--shall we begin, Miss Parrott?

_Imogen._

Certainly, Mr. Wrench.

_Tom._

We'll begin, O'Dwyer.

[_The lady titters at some remark from the keen-faced gentleman._]

_O'Dwyer._

[_Coming down the stage, violently._] Clear the stage there! I'll not have it! Upon my honor, this is the noisiest theatre I've ever set foot in!

[_The icings are cleared, the characters disappearing into the Green-room._]

_O'Dwyer._

I can't hear myself speak for all the riot and confusion!

_Tom._

[_To O'Dwyer._] My dear O'Dwyer, there is no riot, there is no confusion--

_Imogen._

[_To O'Dwyer._] Except the riot and confusion you are making.

_Tom._

You know, you're admirably earnest, O'Dwyer, but a little excitable.

_O'Dwyer._

[_Calming himself._] Oh, I beg your pardon, I'm sure. [_Emphatically._] My system is, begin as you mean to go on.

_Imogen._

But we _don't_ mean to go on like that.

_Tom._

Of course not; of course not. Now, let me see--[_pointing to the right center_] we shall want another chair here.

_O'Dwyer._

Another chair?

_Tom._

A garden chair.

_O'Dwyer._

[_Excitably._] Another chair! Now, then, another chair! Properties! where are ye? do ye hear me callin'? must I raise my voice to ye-?

[_He rushes away._]

_Imogen._

[_To Tom._] Phew! where did you get _him_ from? Tom.

[_Wiping his brow._] Known Michael for years--most capable, invaluable fellow----

_Imogen._

[_Simply._] I wish he was dead.

_Tom._

So do I.

[_O'Dwyer returns, carrying a light chair._]

_Tom._

Well, where's the property-man?

_O'Dwyer._

[_Pleasantly._] It's all right now. He's gone to dinner.

_Tom._

[_Placing the chair in position._] Ah, then he'll be back some time during the afternoon. [_Looking about him._] That will do. [_Taking up his manuscript._] Call--haven't you engaged a call-boy yet, O'Dwyer?

_O'Dwyer._

I have, sir, and the best in London.

_Imogen._

Where is he?

_O'Dwyer._

He has sint an apology for his non-attindance.

_Imogen._

Oh!

_O'Dwyer._

A sad case, ma'am; he's buryin' his wife.

_Tom._

Wife!

_Imogen._

The call-boy?

_Tom._

What's his age?

_O'Dwyer._

Ye see, he happens to be an elder brother of my own----

_Imogen. and Tom._

O Lord!

_Tom._

Nevermind! let's get on! Call Miss---- [_Looking toward the right._] Is that the Hall-Keeper?

[_A man, suggesting by his appearance that he is the Hall-Keeper, presents himself, with a card in his hand._]

_O'Dwyer._

[_Furiously._] Now then! are we to be continually interrupted in this fashion? Have I, or have I not, given strict orders that nobody whatever----?

_Tom._

Hush, hush! see whose card it is; give me the card----

_O'Dwyer._

[_Handing the card to Tom._] Ah, I'll make rules here. In a week's time you'll not know this for the same theatre----

[_Tom has passed the card to Imogen without looking at it._]

_Imogen._

[_Staring at it blankly._] Oh----!

_Tom._

[_To her._] Eh?

_Imogen._

Sir William.

_Tom._

Sir William.!

_Imogen._

What can he want? what shall we do?

_Tom._

[_After referring to his watch--to the Hall-Keeper._] Bring this gentleman on to the stage. [_The Hall-Keeper withdraws. To O'Dwyer._] Make yourself scarce for a few moments, O'Dwyer. Some private business-----

_O'Dwyer._

All right. I've plenty to occupy me. I'll begin to frame those rules---[_He disappears._]

_Imogen._

[_To Tom._] Not here------

_Tom._

[_To Imogen._] The boy can't arrive for another twenty minutes. Besides, we must, sooner or later, accept responsibility for our act.

_Imogen._

[_Leaning upon his arm._] Heavens! I foretold this!

_Tom._

[_Grimly._] I know--"said so all along."

_Imogen._

If he should withdraw his capital!

_Tom._

[_With clenched hands._] At least, that would enable me to write a melodrama.

_Imogen._

Why?

_Tom._

I should then understand the motives and the springs of Crime!

[_The Hall-Keeper reappears, showing the way to Sir William Gower. Sir William's hat is drawn down over his eyes, and the rest of his face is almost entirely concealed by his plaid. The Hall-Keeper withdraws._]

_Tom._

[_Receiving Sir William._] How d'ye do, Sir William?

_Sir William._

[_Giving him two fingers--with a grunt._] Ugh!

_Tom._

These are odd surroundings for you to find yourself in--- [_Imogen comes forward._] Miss Parrott----

_Sir William._

[_Advancing to her, giving her two fingers._] Good-morning, ma'am.

_Imogen._

This is perfectly delightful.

_Sir William._

What is?

_Imogen._

[_Faintly._] Your visit.

_Sir William._

Ugh! [_Weakly._] Give me a cheer. [_Looking about him._] Have ye no cheers here?

_Tom._

Yes.

[_Tom places the throne-chair behind Sir William, who sinks into it._]

_Sir William._

Thank ye; much obleeged. [_To Imogen._] Sit. [_Imogen hurriedly fetches the stool and seats herself beside the throne-chair. Sir William produces his snuff-box._] You are astonished at seeing me here, I dare say?

_Tom._

Not at all.

_Sir William._

[_Glancing at Tom._] Addressing the lady. [_To Imogen._] You are surprised to see me?

_Imogen._

Very.

_Sir William._

[_To Tom._] Ah! [_Tom retreats, getting behind Sir William's chair and looking down upon him._] The truth is, I am beginning to regret my association with ye.

_Imogen._

[_Her hand to her heart._] Oh--h--h--h!

_Tom._

[_Under his breath._] Oh! [_Holding his fist over Sir William's head._] Oh--h--h--h!

_Imogen._

[_Piteously_]. You--you don't propose to withdraw your capital, Sir William?

_Sir William._

That would be a breach of faith, ma'am----

_Imogen._

Ah!

_Tom._

[_Walking about, jauntily._] Ha!

_Imogen._

[_Seizing Sir William's hand._] Friend!

_Sir William._

[_Withdrawing his hand sharply._] I'll thank ye not to repeat that action, ma'am. But I--I have been slightly indisposed since I made your acqueentance in Clerkenwell; I find myself unable to sleep at night. [_To Tom._] That comedy of yours--it buzzes continually in my head, sir.

_Tom._

It was written with such an intention, Sir William--to buzz in people's heads.

_Sir William._

Ah, I'll take care ye don't read me another, Mr. Wicks; at any rate, another which contains a character resembling a member of my family--a _late_ member of my family. I don't relish being reminded of late members of my family in this way, and being kept awake at night, thinking--turning over in my mind----

_Imogen._

[_Soothingly._] Of course not..

_Sir William._

[_Taking snuff._] Pa--a--a--h! pi--i--i--sh!

When I saw Kean, as Richard, he reminded me of no member of my family. Shakespeare knew better than that, Mr. Wicks. [_To Imogen._] And therefore, ma'am, upon receiving your letter last night, acqueenting me with your intention to commence rehearsing your comedy--[_glancing at Tom_] his comedy----

_Imogen._

[_Softly._] _Our_ comedy----

_Sir William._

Ugh--to-day at noon, I determined to present myself here and request to be allowed to--to----

_Tom._

To watch the rehearsal?

_Sir William._

The rehearsal of those episodes in your comedy which remind me of a member of my family--a late member.

_Imogen._

[_Constrainedly_]. Oh, certainly----

_Tom._

[_Firmly._] By all means.

_Sir William._

[_Rising, assisted by Tom._] I don't wish to be steered at by any of your--what d'ye call 'em?--your gypsy crew----

_Tom._

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Company, we call 'em.

_Sir William._

[_Tartly._] I don't care what ye call 'em. [_Tom restores the throne-chair to its former position._] Put me into a curtained box, where I can hear, and see, and not be seen; and when I have heard and seen enough, I'll return home--and--and--obtain a little sleep; and to-morrow I shall be well enough to sit in Court again.

_Tom._

[_Calling._] Mr. O'Dwyer----

[_O'Dwyer appears; Tom speaks a word or two to him, and hands him the manuscript of the play._]

_Imogen._

[_To Sir William, falteringly._] And if you are pleased with what you see this morning, perhaps you will attend another----?

_Sir William._

[_Angrily._] Not I. After to-day I wash my hands of ye. What do plays and players do, coming into my head, disturbing my repose! [_More composedly, to Tom, who has returned to his side._] Your comedy has merit, sir. You call it _Life_. There is a character in it--a young man--not unlike life, not unlike a late member of my family. Obleege me with your arm. [_To Imogen._] Madam, I have arrived at the conclusion that Miss Trelawny belongs to a set of curious people who in other paths might have been useful members of society. But after to-day I've done with ye--done with ye----[_To Tom._]

My box, sir--my box----

[_Tom leads Sir William up the stage._]

_Tom._

[_To O'Dwyer._] Begin rehearsal. Begin rehearsal! Call Miss Trelawny!

[_Tom and Sir William disappear._]

_O'Dwyer._

Miss Trelawny! Miss Trelawny! [_Rushing to the left._] Miss Trelawny! how long am I to stand here shoutin' myself hoarse--? [_Rose appears._]

_Rose._

[_Gently._] Am I called?

_O'Dwyer._

[_Instantly calm._] You are, darlin'. [_O'Dwyer takes his place at the prompt-table, book in hand. Imogen and Rose stand together in the center. The other members of the company come from the Greenroom and stand in the wings, watching the rehearsal._] Now then! [_Reading from the manuscript._] "At the opening of the play Peggy and Dora are discovered----" Who's Peggy? [_Excitedly._]

Where's Peggy? Am I to----?

_Imogen._

Here I am! here I am! I am Peggy.

_O'Dwyer._

[_Calm._] Of course ye are, lovey--ma'am, I should say----

_Imogen._

Yes, you should.

_O'Dwyer._

"Peggy is seated upon the Right, Dora on the Left---" [_Rose and Imogen seat themselves accordingly. In a difficulty._] No--Peggy on the Left, Dora on the Right. [_Violently._] This is the worst written scrip I've ever held in my hand[_Rose and Imogen change places._] So horribly scrawled over, and interlined, and--no--I was quite correct. Peggy is on the Right, and Dora is on the Left. [_Imogen and Rose again change seats. O'Dwyer reads from the manuscript._] "Peggy is engaged in--in" I can't decipher it. A scrip like this is a disgrace to any well-conducted theatre. [_ To Imogen._] I don't know what you're doin'. "Dora is--is----"

[_To Rose._] You are also doin' something or another. Now then! When the curtain rises, you are discovered, both of ye, employed in the way described----[_Tom returns._] Ah, here ye are! [_Resigning the manuscript to Tom, and pointing out a passage._] I've got it smooth as far as there.

_Tom._

Thank you.

_O'Dwyer._

[_Seating himself._] You're welcome.

_Tom._

[_To Rose and Imogen._] Ah, you're not in your right positions. Change places, please.

[_Imogen and Rose change seats once more._]

O'Dwyer rises and goes away.

_O'Dwyer._

[_Out of sight, violently._] A scrip like that's a scandal! If there's a livin' soul that can read bad handwriting, I am that man! But of all the----!

_Tom._

Hush, hush! Mr. O'Dwyer!

_O'Dwyer._

[_Returning to his chair._] Here.

_Tom._

[_Taking the hook from the prompt-table and handing it to Imogen._] You are reading.

_O'Dwyer._

[_ Sotto voce._] I thought so.

_Tom._

[_To Rose._] You are working.

_O'Dwyer._

Working.

_Tom._

[_Pointing to the basket on the table._] There are your needles and wool. [_Rose takes the wool and the needles out of the basket. Tom takes the ball of wool from her and places it in the center of the stage._] You have allowed the ball of wool to roll from your lap on to the grass. You will see the reason for that presently.

_Rose._

I remember it, Mr. Wrench.

_Tom._

The curtain rises. [_To Imogen._] Miss Parrott----

_Imogen._

[_Referring to her part._] What do I say?

_Tom._

Nothing--you yawn.

_Imogen._

[_Yawning, in a perfunctory way._] Oh--h!

_Tom._

As if you meant it, of course.

_Imogen._

Well, of course.

_Tom._

Your yawn must tell the audience that you are a young lady who may be driven by boredom to almost any extreme.

_O'Dwyer._

[_Jumping up._] This sort of thing. [_Yawning extravagantly._] He--oh!

_Tom._

[_Irritably._] Thank you, O'Dwyer; thank you.

_O'Dwyer._

[_Sitting again._] You're welcome.

_Tom._

[_To Rose._] You speak.

_Rose._

[_Reading from her part--retaining the needles and the end of the wool._] "What are you reading, Miss Chaffinch?"

_Imogen._

[_Reading from her part. _] "A novel."

_Rose._

"And what is the name of it?"

_Imogen._

"The Seasons."

_Rose._

"Why is it called that?"

_Imogen._

"Because all the people in it do seasonable things."

_Rose._

"For instance----?"

_Imogen._

"In the Spring, fall in love."

_Rose._

"In the Summer?"

_Imogen._

"Become engaged. Delightful!"

_Rose._

"Autumn?"

_Imogen._

"Marry. Heavenly!"

_Rose._

"Winter?"

_Imogen._

"Quarrel. Ha, ha, ha!"

_Tom._

[_To Imogen._] Close the book--with a bang----

_O'Dwyer._

[_Bringing his hands together sharply by way of suggestion. _] Bang!

_Tom._

[_Irritably._] Yes, yes, O'Dwyer. [_To Imogen._] Now rise----

_O'Dwyer._

Up ye get!

_Tom._

And cross to Dora.

_Imogen._

[_Going to Rose._] "Miss Harrington, don't you wish occasionally that you were engaged to be married?"

_Rose._

"No."

_Imogen._

"Not on wet afternoons?"

_Rose._

"I am perfectly satisfied with this busy little life of mine, as your aunt's Companion."

_Tom._

[_To Imogen._] Walk about, discontentedly.

_Imogen._

[_Walking about._] "I've nothing to do; let's tell each other our ages."

_Rose._

"I am nineteen."

_Tom._

[_To Imogen._] In a loud whisper----

_Imogen._

"I am twenty-two."

_O'Dwyer._

[_Rising and going to Tom._] Now, hadn't ye better make that six-and-twenty?

_Imogen._

[_Joining them, with asperity._] Why? why?

_Tom._

No, no, certainly not. Go on.

_Imogen._

[_Angrily._] Not till Mr. O'Dwyer retires into his corner.

_Tom._

O'Dwyer.----[_O'Dwyer takes his chair, and retires to the "prompt-corner," out of sight, with the air of martyrdom. Tom addresses Rose._] You speak.

_Rose._

"I shall think, and feel, the same when I am twenty-two, I am sure. I shall never wish to marry."

_Tom._

[_To Imogen._] Sit on the stump of the tree.

_Imogen._

Where's that?

_Tom._

[_Pointing to the stool down the stage._] Where that stool is.

_Imogen._

[_Sitting on the stool._] "Miss Harrington, who is the Mr. Gerald Leigh who is expected down to-day?"

_Rose._

"Lord Parracourt's secretary."

_Imogen._

"Old and poor!"

_Rose._

"Neither, I believe. He is the son of a college chum of Lord Parracourt's--so I heard his lordship tell Lady McArchie--and is destined for public life."

_Imogen._

"Then he's young!"

_Rose._

"Extremely, I understand."

_Imogen._

[_Jumping up, in obedience to a sign from Tom._] "Oh, how can you be so spiteful!"

Rose.

"I!"

_Imogen._

"You mean he's too young!"

_Rose._

"Too young for what?"

_Imogen._

"Too young for--oh, bother!"

_Tom._

[_Looking towards the keen-faced gentleman._] Mr. Denzil.

_O'Dwyer._

[_Putting his head round the corner._] Mr. Denzil!

[_The keen-faced gentleman comes forward, reading his part, and meets Imogen._]

_The Gentleman._

[_Speaking in the tones of an old man._] "Ah, Miss Peggy!"

_Tom._

[_To Rose._] Rise, Miss Trelawny.

_O'Dwyer._

[_His head again appearing._] Rise, darlin'!

[_Rose rises._]

_The Gentleman._

[_To Imogen._] "Your bravura has just arrived from London. Lady McArchie wishes you to try it over; and if I may add my entreaties----"

_Imogen._

[_Taking his arm._] "Delighted, Lord Parracourt. [_To Rose._] Miss Harrington, bring your work indoors and hear me squall. [_To the Gentleman._] Why, you must have telegraphed to town!"

_The Gentleman._

[_As they cross the stage._] "Yes, but even telegraphy is too sluggish in executing your smallest command."

[_Imogen and the keen-faced gentleman go off on the left. He remains in the wings, she returns to the prompt-table._]

_Rose._

"Why do Miss Chaffinch and her girl-friends talk of nothing, think of nothing apparently, but marriage? Ought a woman to make marriage the great object of life? can there be no other? I wonder----"

[_She goes off, the wool trailing after her, and disappears into the Green-room. The ball of wool remains in the center of the stage._]

_Tom._

[_Reading from his manuscript._] "The piano is heard; and Peggy's voice singing. Gerald enters----"

_Imogen._

[_Clutching Tom's arm._] There----!

_Tom._

Ah, yes, here is Mr. Gordon.

[_Arthur appears, in a traveling coat. Tom and Imogen hasten to him and shake hands with him vigorously._]

_Tom._

[_On Arthur's right._]How are you?

_Imogen._

[_On his left nervously._] How are you?

_Arthur._

[_Breathlessly._] Miss Parrott! Mr. Wrench! forgive me if I am late; my cab-horse galloped from the station---

_Tom._

We have just reached your entrance. Have you read your part over?

_Arthur._

Read it! [_Taking it from his pocket._] I know every word of it! it has made my journey from Bristol like a flight through the air! Why, Mr. Wrench [_turning over the leaves of his part_], some of this is almost me!

_Tom. and Imogen._

[_Nervously._] Ha, ha, ha!

_Tom._

Come! you enter! [_pointing to the right_] there! [_returning to the prompt-table with Imogen_] you stroll on, looking about you! Now, Mr. Gordon!

_Arthur._

[_Advancing to the center of the stage, occasionally glancing at his part._] "A pretty place. I am glad I left the carriage at the lodge and walked through the grounds."

[_There is an exclamation, proceeding from the auditorium, and the sound of the overturning of a chair._]

_Imogen._

Oh!

_O'Dwyer._

[_Appearing, looking into the auditorium._] What's that? This is the noisiest theatre I've ever set foot in----!

_Tom._

Don't heed it! [_To Arthur._] Go on, Mr. Gordon.

_Arthur._

"Somebody singing. A girl's voice. Lord Parracourt made no mention of anybody but his hostess--the dry, Scotch widow. [_Picking up the ball of wool._] This is Lady McArchie's, I'll be bound. The very color suggests spectacles and iron-gray curls----"

_Tom._

Dora returns. [_Calling._] Dora!

_O'Dwyer._

Dora! where are ye?

_The Gentleman._

[_Going to the Green-room door._]Dora! Dora!

[_Rose appears in the wings._]

_Rose._

[_To Tom._] I'm sorry.

_Tom._

Go on, please!

[_There is another sound, nearer the stage, of the overturning of some object._]

_O'Dwyer._

What---?

_Tom._

Don't heed it!

_Rose._

[_Coming face to face with Arthur._]

Oh----!

_Arthur._

Rose.!

_Tom._

Go on, Mr. Gordon!

_Arthur._

[_To Rose, holding out the ball of wool._] "I beg your pardon--are you looking for this?"

_Rose._

"Yes, I--I--I----" [_Dropping her head upon his breast._] Oh, Arthur!

[_Sir William enters, and comes forward on Arthur's right._]

_Sir William._

Arthur.

_Arthur._

[_Turning to him._] Grandfather!

_O'Dwyer._

[_Indignantly._] Upon my soul-----!

_Tom._

Leave the stage, O'Dwyer!

[_O'Dwyer vanishes. Imogen goes to those who are in the wings and talks to them; gradually they withdraw into the Greenroom. Rose sinks on to the stool; Tom comes to her and stands beside her._]

_Sir William._

What's this? what is it----?

_Arthur._

[_Bewildered._] Sir, I--I--you--and--and Rose--are the last persons I expected to meet here----

_Sir William._

Ah-h-h--h!

_Arthur._

Perhaps you have both already learned, from Mr. Wrench or Miss Parrott, that I have--become--a gypsy, sir?

_Sir William._

Not I; [_pointing to Tom and Imogen_] these--these people have thought it decent to allow me to make the discovery for myself.

[_He sinks into the throne-chair. Tom goes to Sir William. Arthur joins Imogen; they talk together rapidly and earnestly._]

_Tom._

[_To Sir William._] Sir William, the secret of your grandson's choice of a profession----

_Sir William._

[_Scornfully._] Profession!

_Tom._

Was one that I was pledged to keep as long as it was possible to do so. And pray remember that your attendance here this morning is entirely your own act. It was our intention----

_Sir William._

[_Struggling to his feet._] Where is the door? the way to the door?

_Tom._

And let me beg you to understand this, Sir William--that Miss Trelawny was, till a moment ago, as ignorant as yourself of Mr. Arthur Gower's doings, of his movements, of his whereabouts. She would never have thrown herself in his way, in this manner. Whatever conspiracy----------

_Sir William._

Conspiracy! the right word--conspiracy!

_Tom._

Whatever conspiracy there has been is my own--to bring these two young people together again, to make them happy----

[_Rose holds out her hand to Tom; he takes it._]

They are joined by Imogen.

_Sir William._

[_Looking about him._] The door! the door!

_Arthur._

[_Coming to Sir William._] Grandfather, may I, when rehearsal is over, venture to call in Cavendish Square----?

_Sir William._

Call----!

_Arthur._

Just to see Aunt Trafalgar, sir? I hope Aunt Trafalgar is well, sir.

_Sir William._

[_With a slight change of tone._] Your Great-aunt Trafalgar? Ugh, yes, I suppose she will consent to see ye----

_Arthur._

Ah, sir----!

_Sir William._

But I shall be out; I shall not be within doors.

_Arthur._

Then, if Aunt Trafalgar will receive me, sir, do you think I may be allowed to--to bring Miss Trelawny with me----?

_Sir William._

What! ha, I perceive you have already acquired the impudence of your vagabond class, sir; the brazen effrontery of a set of----!

_Rose._

[_Rising and facing him._] Forgive him! forgive him! oh, Sir William, why may not Arthur become, some day, a _splendid_ gypsy?

_Sir William._

Eh?

_Rose._

Like----

_Sir William._

[_Peering into her face. _] Like----?

_Rose._

Like----

_Tom._

Yes, sir, a gypsy, though of a different order from the old order which is departing--a gypsy of the new school!

_Sir William._

[_To Rose._] Well, Miss Gower is a weak, foolish lady; for aught I know she may allow this young man to--to--take ye----

_Imogen._

I would accompany Rose, of course, Sir William.

_Sir William._

[_Tartly._] Thank ye, ma'am. [_Turning._] I'll go to my carriage.

_Arthur._

Sir, if you have the carriage here, and if you would have the patience to sit out the rest of the rehearsal, we might return with you to Cavendish Square.

_Sir William._

[_Choking._] Oh--h--h--hi

_Arthur._

Grandfather, we are not rich people, and a cab to us----

_Sir William._