What's that?

DE CASTRO.

[_Linking his arm in SMYTHE'S._] You're thure you won't conthider me prethumptuouth?

SMYTHE.

Of course not; very kind of yer.

DE CASTRO.

[_In SMYTHE'S ear._] If you _could_ give Gabth-- Mith Kato-- a tiny bit more to do in the thecond act----!

SMYTHE.

[_Nodding._] Ah, yes, yes.

DE CASTRO.

She'th a little lump o' talent, that gal, if you only realithed it; a perfect little lump o' talent.

SMYTHE.

[_Trying to escape._] Er-- I'll think it over.

DE CASTRO.

Will yer! An extra thong! That'th all it need be-- an extra thong! Oh, it would be _thuch_ an improvement! [_VON RETTENMAYER enters at the double-door. The waiters now go to the tables and lay a plate with a slice of melon upon it at each cover._] Here'th the Baron. We've been thitting together to-night, I and the Baron. [_Wringing SMYTHE'S hand._] Thankth. [_Joining COOLING and the others on the left as SMYTHE greets VON RETTENMAYER._] Hullo, Morrith! [_Shaking hands with HENEAGE and GRIMWOOD._] Well, boyth!

SMYTHE.

[_Shaking hands with VON RETTENMAYER._] Glad to see yer, Baron.

VON RETTENMAYER.

Zo good of you to haf me.

SMYTHE.

Excuse me; I'm just going to wash my hands.

VON RETTENMAYER.

[_Detaining him._] Bardon me-- one moment----

SMYTHE.

Eh?

VON RETTENMAYER.

[_Dropping his voice._] May I dake the liberdy of indulging in a liddle griticism on your eggcellent blay?

SMYTHE.

Certainly.

VON RETTENMAYER.

[_Drawing SMYTHE away from the tables._] Gome here. [_His mouth close to SMYTHE'S ear._] The zecond aggd!

SMYTHE.

Second act; what's the matter with it?

VON RETTENMAYER.

The pard where the gharming Miss Barradell is ghanging her gostume----

SMYTHE.

Yes?

VON RETTENMAYER.

That is where the biece reguires lifding-- [_with a gesture_] lifding.

SMYTHE.

Lifting?

VON RETTENMAYER.

Mr. Davish-- Mr. Balk-- eggsdremely glever; [_slipping his arm through SMYTHE'S_] but if you could zee your way glear to gif Enid-- Miss Mongreiff-- anoder dance----

SMYTHE.

[_Nodding._] Ah, h'm, h'm.

VON RETTENMAYER.

It would remove the zolitary imberfection.

SMYTHE.

Er-- I'll think it over. [_Releasing himself._] I'm just going to wash my hands. We'll talk about it later.

VON RETTENMAYER.