Mrs. Perkins.  To what am I to attribute this pleasure, Lady Amaranth?  I do not presume to think that you have come here without some other motive than that of a mere desire to see me.  I do not suppose that even you pretend that since the contretemps of Tuesday night at the Duchess of Barncastle’s our former feeling—­

Mrs. Bradley.  Ellen, I have come to tell you something.  To save you from a vile conspiracy.

Mrs. Perkins.  I am quite well able, Lady Amaranth, to manage my own affairs—­

Mrs. Bradley.  But you do not know.  You love Lord Muddleton—­

Mrs. Perkins (toying with her fan).  Oh!  Indeed!  And who, pray, has taken you into my confidence?  I was not aware—­

Mrs. Bradley.  Hear me, Ellen—­

Mrs. Perkins.  Excuse me, Lady Amaranth! but you have forgotten that it is only to my friends that I am known as—­

Mrs. Bradley.  Then Lady Ellen, if it must be so.  I know what you do not—­that Henry Cobb is an escaped convent—­

Yardsley.  Convict, not convent.

Mrs. Bradley.  Is an escaped convict, and—­

Mrs. Perkins.  I am not interested in Henry Cobb.

Mrs. Bradley.  But he is in you, Ellen Abercrombie.  He is in you, and with the aid of Fenderson Featherhead—­

[Bell.  Perkins lets curtain drop half-way, but remembers in time, and pulls it up again.

Perkins.  Beg pardon.  String slipped.

Mrs. Bradley.  Too late.  Oh, if he had only waited!

Enter Miss Andrews.

Miss Andrews.  Mr. Featherhead, Leddy Eilen.

Yardsley.  Ellen, Ellen; and lydy, not leddy.

Mrs. Bradley.  Hear me first, I beg.

Mrs. Perkins.  Show him in, Mary.  Lady Amaranth, as you see, I am engaged.  I really must be excused.  Good-night.

Mrs. Bradley (aside).  Foiled!  Muddleton will be exposed.  Ah, if I could only have broken the force of the blow! (Aloud.) Lady Ellen, I will speak.  Fenderson Featherhead—­

Enter Bradley and Barlow together.  Both.  Is here, Lady Amaranth.

[Each tries to motion the other off the stage.

Yardsley.  What the deuce does this mean?  What do you think this play is—­an Uncle Tom combination with two Topsys?

Barlow.  I told him to keep out, but he said that Fenderson
Featherhead was his cue.

Bradley (indignantly).  Well, so it is; there’s the book.

Yardsley.  Oh, nonsense, Brad!  Don’t be idiotic.  The book doesn’t say anything of the sort.

Bradley.  But I say it does.  If you—­

Barlow.  It’s all rot for you to behave like this, Bradley.

Perkins.  Isn’t it time something happened to the curtain?  The audience will get panicky if they witness any such lack of harmony as this.  I will draw a veil over the painful scene.  B-r-r-r-r. (Drops curtain.) B-r-r-r-r.