CARNABY. [_Carelessly._] Does she say so?

MR. TATTON. [_With mock roguishness._] Ah!

GEORGE _is on the terrace, looking to the left through the trees_.

TATTON _is sitting on the edge of the fountain_.

GEORGE. Here's the sun . . . to show us ourselves.

MR. TATTON. Leete, this pond is full of water!

CARNABY. Ann, if you are there . . .

ANN. Yes, Papa.

CARNABY. Apologise profusely; it's your garden.

ANN. Oh . . .

CARNABY. Coat-tails, Tatton . . . or worse?

MR. TATTON. [_Ruefully discovering damp spots about him._] Nothing vastly to matter.

LORD JOHN. Hardy, well-preserved, country gentleman!

MR. TATTON. I bet I'm a younger man than you, my lord.

ANN. [_Suddenly to the company generally._] I didn't tread upon any toad . . . I was kissed.

_There is a pause of some discomfort._

SARAH. Ann, come here to me.

LORD JOHN. I apologised.

GEORGE. [_From the terrace._] Are we to be insulted?

CARNABY. My dear Carp, say no more.

_There is another short pause. By this it is twilight, faces can be plainly seen._

SARAH. Listen . . . the first bird.

MR. TATTON. Oh, dear no, they begin to sing long before this.

CARNABY. What is it now . . . a lark?

MR. TATTON. I don't know.

ANN. [_Quietly to_ SARAH.] That's a thrush.

SARAH. [_Capping her._] A thrush.

CARNABY. Charming!

MR. TATTON. [__ LORD JOHN.] I don't see why you couldn't have told me how it was that she screamed.

CARNABY. Our dear Tatton! [_Sotto voce to his son._] Hold your tongue, George.

MR. TATTON. I did bar toads and you said I didn't, and anyway I had a sort of right to know.

LORD JOHN. You know now.

SARAH. I wonder if this seat is dry.

LORD JOHN. There's been no rain for weeks.

SARAH. The roads will be dusty for you, Mr. Tat.

MR. TATTON. Just one moment. You don't mind me, Miss Ann, do you?

ANN. I don't mind much.

MR. TATTON. We said distinctly . . . To the orchard end of the garden and back and if frightened--that's the word--so much as to scream . . . !

Now, what I want to know is. . .

LORD JOHN. Consider the bet off.

MR. TATTON. Certainly not. And we should have added. . . Alone.

CARNABY. Tatton has persistence.

SARAH. Mr. Tat, do you know where people go who take things seriously?

MR. TATTON. Miss Leete, were you frightened when Lord John kissed you?

GEORGE. d.a.m.nation!

CARNABY. My excellent Tatton, much as I admire your searchings after truth I must here parentally intervene, regretting, my dear Tatton, that my own carelessness of duennahood has permitted this--this . . . to occur.

_After this, there is silence for a minute._

LORD JOHN. Can I borrow a horse of you, Mr. Leete?

CARNABY. My entire stable; and your Ronald shall be physicked.

SARAH. Spartans that you are to be riding!

LORD JOHN. I prefer it to a jolting chaise.