SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

I cannot discuss official matters with you.

[SIR JULIAN turns from him.]

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

[To himself as he sits down.] Chatty! Chatty! I know what this'll end in. It'll end in my standin' on my dignity. Where's f.a.n.n.y? [Addressing the others.] Talkin' about shootin', I'll tell you an amusin' little story.

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

[To LADY TWOMBLEY and others sotto voce.] No, no!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

It's all about myself.

BROOKE TWOMBLEY.

[Whispering to the others.] Good-bye. We're off.

[There is a general movement, the ladies and SIR JULIAN saying good-bye to the shooters, unnoticed by LEBANON, who has his back to them.]

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

I was spendin' a day or two down in Ess.e.x with my old friend, Captain Bolter, South 'Ampstead Artillery. Dear old Tom--great favourite with the gals. Excuse my humour.

LADY TWOMBLEY, IMOGEN, LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART, SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY, LADY MACPHAIL, and DOWAGER.

[Quietly to the shooters.] Good-bye.

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

It was wild-fowl Tom and I were after. We were lyin' in a ditch waitin'

for the ducks to drift in with the tide. [As LEBANON continues his story all the others gradually and quietly disperse.] I counted fifty-seven birds through my gla.s.s. So said I to Tom, "Tom, I'm in dooced good form, my boy." "Devil you are!" said Tom. "And I lay you a pony to a penny that fifteen of those birds fall to my gun." "Done!" said Tom. [He is now alone in the room.] Well, to make a short story a long one--excuse my humour--Tom sneezed. Up I got. So did the ducks. And then what the dooce d'ye think 'appened? I say, what the dooce d'ye think---- [Discovering that he is alone.] Well, I'm---- Chatty, ain't they?

Chatty!

[MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE enters.]

MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.

Jo! why aren't you with the shooters?

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

Why! They hooked it while I was tellin 'em the tale of Tom Bolter and the ducks.

MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.

Never mind, my pet.

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

It's rude--that's what it is--it's dooced rude.

MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.

Come along, we'll walk on to the moor.

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

What, are you going too, Fan?

MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.

Yes, dear. Your poor f.a.n.n.y has a little bit of fun on.

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

Oh, Fan, if I only 'ad your confidence, your push. But the rudeness of these people is gettin' on my nerves.

MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.

Why, Joseph!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

I feel a little 'urt, Fan--a little 'urt.

[VALENTINE enters.]

VALENTINE WHITE.

Mr. Lebanon!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

Hi! Where are they?

VALENTINE WHITE.

Just starting in the drag. Be quick.

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

[To MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.] Come on! They shall hear about Tom Bolter and the ducks before I've done with 'em. Come on!

[MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE and LEBANON hurry out.]