Mollen. (sit in chair R. C. down stage) It will take you exactly ten minutes. You will send for your nephew—meet him coldly—wave him to a chair. A set frown on your face. You will tell him severely you have detected his secret, (Sir J. sits C.) remarked his passion for your ward. You will upbraid him—remember, his adoration is certain! He will confess and beat his bosom. Then you melt—and send for the maiden.
Sir J. (alarmed) I? I speak to her? Never!
Mollen. In the interests of celerity! If you leave it to him he will bungle it. He will be abject, and she tyrannical. She will say "no" for certain, to see how he takes it. She will demand time—in short, there will be delay. You will find all this set down in my fourteenth chapter, called "The Cat and the Mouse."
Sir J. (rise and down stage) I can't do it, Mollentrave. I shouldn't know what to say!
Mollen. (rise, put chair back R.) You, the great orator! Imagine you're addressing a jury of—girls! Wallow in sentiment—reek of it! (R. C.) Put the boy's love—draw a pathetic picture—tears in your voice, and so on! In a minute she'll cry, and accept him! Oh, I guarantee the complete success of the operation! And see here—Rosy and I are going to Swanage to-morrow—why not join us there, with the young couple?
Sir J. (C.) That's exceedingly good of you—I had meant to trot off to Scotland—
Mollen. You can't—at once! Remember—they are engaged! But you can go in a day or two, and leave them with us. The house is large.
Sir J. Really—that is too kind—
Mollen. Copy for me, my dear fellow—They'll be under the microscope, but they won't know. (Lady C. comes down L. C.) And I'll give the boy some wrinkles. You'll come?