CARNABY. I trust Ann will take no chill walking through the mud.

DR. REMNANT. Won't you sit down, sir?

CARNABY. No.

_For some moments_ CROWE _has been staring indignantly at_ SIR GEORGE.

_Now he breaks out._

MR. CROWE. The front door of this mansion is opened to a common gardener and only then to me and mine!

SIR GEORGE LEETE. [_Virulently._] d.a.m.n you and yours and d.a.m.n them . .

and d.a.m.n you again for the worse disgrace.

MR. CROWE. d.a.m.n _you_, sir . . have you paid him to marry the girl?

_He turns away, purple faced and_ SIR GEORGE _chokes impotently_. ABUD _and_ MR. PRESTIGE _come out talking. He is younger and less a.s.sertive than_ FARMER CROWE.

MR. PRESTIGE. [_Pathetically._] All our family always has got drunk at weddings.

ABUD. [_In remonstrance._] Please, uncle.

CARNABY. Mr. Crowe . . I have been much to blame for not seeking you sooner.

MR. CROWE. [_Mollified._] Shake hands.

CARNABY. [_Offering his with some difficulty._] My arm is stiff . .

from an accident. This is a maid's marriage, I a.s.sure you.

MR. PRESTIGE. [_Open mouthed to_ DR. REMNANT.] One =could= hang bacon here!

DOLLY. [_Very high and mighty._] The family don't.

CARNABY. [_To his father._] And won't you apologise for your remarks to Mr. Crowe, sir?

LADY LEETE. [_Demanding._] Snuff!

CARNABY. And your box to my mother, sir.

SIR GEORGE _attends to his wife_.

DOLLY. [_Anxiously to_ DR. REMNANT.] Can a gentleman change his name?

MR. CROWE. Parson . . once n.o.ble always n.o.ble, I take it.

DR. REMNANT. Certainly . . but I hope you have money to leave them, Mr.

Crowe.

DOLLY. [_To_ ABUD.] John.

ABUD. Dorothy.

DOLLY. You've not seen my babies yet.

LADY LEETE _sneezes_.

SIR GEORGE LEETE. Carnaby . . d'ye intend to murder that Crowe fellow . .

or must I?

MR. SMALLPEICE _skips from the dining-room_.

MR. SMALLPEICE. Mr. John Abud . .

MR. CROWE. [_To_ DR. REMNANT _as he nods towards_ CARNABY.] Don't tell me he's got over that fever yet.

MR. SMALLPEICE. . . The ladies say . . are you ready or are you not?

MR. PRESTIGE. I'll get thy cloak, John.

MR. PRESTIGE _goes for the cloak_. CARNABY _has taken a pistol from the mantel-piece and now points it at_ ABUD.

CARNABY. He's fit for heaven!

GEORGE LEETE _comes from the dining-room and noticing his father's action says sharply_ . .

GEORGE. I suppose you know that pistol's loaded.

_Which calls everyone's attention._ DOLLY _shrieks_.

CARNABY. What if there had been an accident!

_And he puts back the pistol._ ABUD _takes his cloak from_ PRESTIGE.

ABUD. Thank you, uncle.

MR. PRESTIGE. I'm a proud man. Mr. Crowe . .

CARNABY. Pride!

GEORGE. [_Has a sudden inspiration and strides up to_ ABUD.] Here ends the joke, my good fellow. Be off without your wife.

ABUD _stares, as do the others. Only_ CARNABY _suddenly catches_ REMNANT'S _arm_.

MR. PRESTIGE. [_Solemnly._] But it's illegal to separate them.

GEORGE. [_Giving up._] Mr. Prestige . . you are the backbone of England.

CARNABY. [_To_ REMNANT.] Where are your miracles?

MRS. PRESTIGE _comes out. A motherly farmer's wife, a mountain of a woman._