Robinson. Oh, then, pray let us have Mendelssohn,—­one of those exquisite Songs without Words of his.

Susan. Yas? with plaisir.  I like dose songs best myself,—­de songs without words.

Nokes [aside, despairingly]. It’s impossible she can get out of this.  Now we shall have an eclaircissement, an exposure, an explosion.

Susan [strikes piano violently with both hands, and a string breaks with a loud report]. Ah, quel dommage! How stupide, too, when he told me not to “thomp, thomp”!  I am so sorry, gentlemens!  I did hope to give you a song, but I cannot sing without an accompaniment.

Rasper [maliciously]. There’s the harp, ma’am,—­unless its strings are in the same unsatisfactory state as those of the piano.

Susan [with affected delight]. What, you play de harp, Mr. Gasper?  I am so glad, because I do not play it yet myself:  I am only learning.  Come, I shall sing, and you shall play upon de harp.

Rasper [angrily]. I play the harp, madam! what rubbish! of course I can’t.

Sponge [eagerly]. But I can, just a little,—­just enough to accompany one of Mrs. Nokes’s charming songs. [Brings the harp down to the front, and sits down to it, trying the strings.]

Nokes [aside]. The nasty little accomplished beast!  He’ll ruin everything.  Susan is at her wits’ end. [Aside to Susan] What on earth are we to do now?

     Enter SERVANT.

[In stentorian tones] Luncheon is on the table! [Then, approaching Susan, he adds, in lower but distinct tones] A lady wishes to see you, madam, upon very particular business.

Susan [surprised]. A lady! what lady?

Nokes [to Susan, aside and impatiently]. Never mind what lady; see her at once, whoever she is:  it will be an excuse for getting away from these people.—­My wife is engaged for the present, my good friends, so we’ll sit down to lunch without her.

[All bow and leave the room, receiving in return from Susan a stately courtesy.  Nokes, the last to leave, kisses his hand to her.] Adorable Susan, you have conquered, you remain in possession of the field; but you must not risk another engagement.  I will see to that.  Champagne shall do its work on Rasper—­Gasper.

     Enter MRS. CHARLES NOKES, neatly but cheaply attired.  SUSAN rises,
     bows, and looks toward her interrogatively.

Mrs. Charles Nokes. I did not send in my name, madam, because I feared it would but prejudice you against your visitor.  I am Charles’s—­that is, your husband’s niece by marriage; not a near relation to yourself, you might say, if you wished to be unkind,—­which [with earnestness] I do not think you do.

Susan [distressed, but endeavoring to remain firm]. Oh, but I do, ma’am.  I wish to be as hard as a stone. [Aside] Only I can’t.  What a pretty, modest young creature she is!