Mrs. Perkins (looking at her watch).  They’re due now; it’s half-past four. (Sits down and opens play-book.  Rehearses.) No, not for all the world would I do this thing, Lord Muddleton.  There is no need to ask it of me.  I am firm.  I shall—­

Perkins, Oh, let up, my dear!  I’ve been getting that for breakfast, dinner, and tea for two weeks now, and I’m awfully tired of it.  When I asked for a second cup of coffee at breakfast Sunday, you retorted, “No, not for all the world would I do this thing, Lord Muddleton!” When I asked you where my dress ties were, you informed me that it was “what baseness,” or words to that effect; and so on, until I hardly know where I am at. (Catches sight of the chest.) Hello!  How did that happen to escape the general devastation?  What are you going to do with that oak chest?

Mrs. Perkins.  It is for the real earl to hide in just before he confronts Muddleton with the evidence of his crime.

Perkins.  But—­that holds all my loose prints, Bess.  By Jove!  I can’t have that, you know.  You amateur counterfeiters have got to understand just one thing.  I’ll submit to the laundering of my manuscripts, the butler’s-pantrying of my Cruikshanks, but I’ll be hanged if I’ll allow even a real earl, much less a base imitation of one, to wallow in my engravings.

Mrs. Perkins.  You needn’t worry about your old engravings.  They’re perfectly safe, I’ve put them in the Saratoga trunk in the attic.  (Rehearsing.) And if you ask it of me once again, I shall have to summon my servants to have you shown the door.  Henry Cobb is the friend of my girlhood, and—­

Perkins.  Henry Cobb be—­

Mrs. Perkins.  Thaddeus!

Perkins.  I don’t care, Bess, if Henry Cobb was the only friend you ever had.  I object to having my prints dumped into a Saratoga trunk in order that he may confront Muddleton and regain the lost estates of Puddingford by hiding in my chest.  A gay earl Yardsley makes, anyhow; and as for Barlow, he looks like an ass in that yellow-chrysanthemum wig.  No man with yellow hair like that could track such a villain as Henderson makes Muddleton out to be.  Fact is, Henderson is the only decent part of the show.

Mrs. Perkins (rehearsing).  What if he is weak?  Then shall I still more strongly show myself his friend.  Poor?  Does not—­

Perkins.  Oh, I suppose it does—­(Bell rings.) There comes this apology for a real earl, I fancy.  I’ll let him in myself.  I suppose Jennie has got as much as she can do sweeping my manuscripts out of the laundry, and keeping my verses from scorching the wash. [Exit.

Mrs. Perkins.  It’s too bad of Thaddeus to go on like this.  As if I hadn’t enough to worry me without a cross husband to manage.  Heigho!

Enter Perkins with Yardsley.  Yardsley holds bicycle cap in hand.

Yardsley.  By Jove!  I’m tired.  Everything’s been going wrong to-day.  Overslept myself, to begin with, and somebody stole my hat at the club, and left me this bicycle cap in its place.  How are you getting along, Mrs. Perkins?  You weren’t letter perfect yesterday, you know.