[_Amid a confused sound of voices MR. POSKET is brought in, through the curtains, by MR. WORMINGTON. LUGG follows._

MR. POSKET.

Wormington! Wormington! the two ladies! the two ladies! I know them!

MR. WORMINGTON.

It's all right, sir, it's all right--don't be upset, sir!

MR. POSKET.

I'm not well; what shall I do?

MR. WORMINGTON.

Nothing further, sir. What you have done is quite in form.

MR. POSKET.

What I _have_ done?

MR. WORMINGTON.

Yes, sir--you did precisely what I suggested--took the words from me.

They pleaded guilty.

MR. POSKET.

Guilty!

MR. WORMINGTON.

Yes, sir--and you sentenced them.

MR. POSKET.

Sentenced them! The ladies!

MR. WORMINGTON.

Yes, sir. You've given them seven days, without the option of a fine.

[_MR. POSKET collapses into MR. WORMINGTON'S arms._

THE SECOND SCENE.

_The scene changes to MR. POSKET'S drawing-room, as in the first act._

_BEATIE enters timidly, dressed in simple walking-costume._

BEATIE.

How dreadfully early. Eleven o'clock, and I'm not supposed to come till four. I wonder why I want to instruct Cis all day. I'm not nearly so enthusiastic about the two little girls I teach in Russell Square.

_POPHAM enters. Her eyes are red as if from crying._

POPHAM.

[_Drawing back on seeing BEATIE._] That music person again. I beg your pardon--I ain't got no instructions to prepare no drawing-room for no lessons till four o'clock.

BEATIE.

I wish to see Mrs. Posket.

POPHAM.

She hasn't come home.

BEATIE.

Oh then--er--um--Master Farringdon will do.

POPHAM.

[_In tears._] He haven't come home either!

BEATIE.

Oh, where is he?

POPHAM.

No one knows! His wicked old stepfather took him out late last night and hasn't returned him. Such a night as it was, too, and him still wearing his summer under-vests.

BEATIE.

Mr. Posket?

POPHAM.

Mr. Posket--no, my Cis!

BEATIE.

How dare you speak of Master Farringdon in that familiar way?

POPHAM.