DORA.  Right oh! [She bursts into song]
Hide me in the meat safe til the cop goes by. 
Hum the dear old music as his step draws nigh.
[She goes out on tiptoe].

MARGARET.  I wont stay here if she has to hide.  I’ll keep her company in the pantry. [She follows Dora].

BOBBY.  Lets all go.  We cant have any fun with the Mar here.  I say,
Juggins:  you can give us tea in the pantry, cant you?

JUGGINS.  Certainly, sir.

BOBBY.  Right.  Say nothing to my mother.  You dont mind, Mr.
Doovalley, do you?

DUVALLET.  I shall be charmed.

BOBBY.  Right you are.  Come along. [At the door] Oh, by the way,
Juggins, fetch down that concertina from my room, will you?

JUGGINS.  Yes, sir. [Bobby goes out.  Duvallet follows him to the door].  You understand, sir, that Miss Knox is a lady absolutely comme il faut?

DUVALLET.  Perfectly.  But the other?

JUGGINS.  The other, sir, may be both charitably and accurately described in your native idiom as a daughter of joy.

DUVALLET.  It is what I thought.  These English domestic interiors are very interesting. [He goes out, followed by Juggins].

Presently Mr and Mrs Gilbey come in.  They take their accustomed places:  he on the hearthrug, she at the colder end of the table.

MRS GILBEY.  Did you smell scent in the hall, Rob?

GILBEY.  No, I didnt.  And I dont want to smell it.  Dont you go looking for trouble, Maria.

MRS GILBEY. [snuffing up the perfumed atmosphere] Shes been here. [Gilbey rings the bell].  What are you ringing for?  Are you going to ask?

GILBEY.  No, I’m not going to ask.  Juggins said this morning he wanted to speak to me.  If he likes to tell me, let him; but I’m not going to ask; and dont you either. [Juggins appears at the door].  You said you wanted to say something to me.

JUGGINS.  When it would be convenient to you, sir.

GILBEY.  Well, what is it?

MRS GILBEY.  Oh, Juggins, we’re expecting Mr and Mrs Knox to tea.

GILBEY.  He knows that. [He sits down.  Then, to Juggins] What is it?

JUGGINS. [advancing to the middle of the table] Would it inconvenience you, sir, if I was to give you a month’s notice?

GILBEY. [taken aback] What!  Why?  Aint you satisfied?

JUGGINS.  Perfectly, sir.  It is not that I want to better myself, I assure you.

GILBEY.  Well, what do you want to leave for, then?  Do you want to worse yourself?

JUGGINS.  No, sir.  Ive been well treated in your most comfortable establishment; and I should be greatly distressed if you or Mrs Gilbey were to interpret my notice as an expression of dissatisfaction.