The parlor-maid [opening the door] Miss Doolittle. [She withdraws].

Higgins [rising hastily and running to Mrs. Higgins] Here she is, mother. [He stands on tiptoe and makes signs over his mother’s head to Eliza to indicate to her which lady is her hostess].

Eliza, who is exquisitely dressed, produces an impression of such remarkable distinction and beauty as she enters that they all rise, quite flustered.  Guided by Higgins’s signals, she comes to Mrs. Higgins with studied grace.

Liza [speaking with pedantic correctness of pronunciation and great beauty of tone] How do you do, Mrs. Higgins? [She gasps slightly in making sure of the H in Higgins, but is quite successful].  Mr. Higgins told me I might come.

Mrs. Higgins [cordially] Quite right:  I’m very glad indeed to see you.

Pickering.  How do you do, Miss Doolittle?

Liza [shaking hands with him] Colonel Pickering, is it not?

Mrs. Eynsford Hill.  I feel sure we have met before, Miss
Doolittle.  I remember your eyes.

Liza.  How do you do? [She sits down on the ottoman gracefully in the place just left vacant by Higgins].

Mrs. Eynsford Hill [introducing] My daughter Clara.

Liza.  How do you do?

Clara [impulsively] How do you do? [She sits down on the ottoman beside Eliza, devouring her with her eyes].

Freddy [coming to their side of the ottoman] I’ve certainly had the pleasure.

Mrs. Eynsford Hill [introducing] My son Freddy.

Liza.  How do you do?

Freddy bows and sits down in the Elizabethan chair, infatuated.

Higgins [suddenly] By George, yes:  it all comes back to me! [They stare at him].  Covent Garden! [Lamentably] What a damned thing!

Mrs. Higgins.  Henry, please! [He is about to sit on the edge of the table].  Don’t sit on my writing-table:  you’ll break it.

Higgins [sulkily] Sorry.

He goes to the divan, stumbling into the fender and over the fire-irons on his way; extricating himself with muttered imprecations; and finishing his disastrous journey by throwing himself so impatiently on the divan that he almost breaks it.  Mrs. Higgins looks at him, but controls herself and says nothing.

A long and painful pause ensues.

Mrs. Higgins [at last, conversationally] Will it rain, do you think?

Liza.  The shallow depression in the west of these islands is likely to move slowly in an easterly direction.  There are no indications of any great change in the barometrical situation.

Freddy.  Ha! ha! how awfully funny!

Liza.  What is wrong with that, young man?  I bet I got it right.

Freddy.  Killing!