Marg. Oh, Joseph, dear Joseph, how could you! Lying on the grass! (puts basket down R. C. and helps Sir J. to rise.)
Sir J. (L.) (getting up. Miserably) H'm I—
Marg. (L. C.) Wicked man! With your rheumatism! And no muffler! I found it in the hall! Oh, naughty, naughty! (she produces it from the basket) Here it is, sir! Put it on at once! (puts muffler round him) (taking him to R. C.) (he sits R. trunk of tree) And it's twelve o'clock! I've brought your essence—here—and a spoon. (she produces them from the basket and feeds him) What would you do without me?
Sir J. Impossible to conceive!
Marg. (she sits on his L.) Take it, sir! (he laps it up piteously) To think of you all these years, having to look after yourself, and hide, because he wouldn't let his little girl see how ill he was! Oh, poor, poor! (she feeds him a second time and wipes his mouth with the muffler) But she'll take care of him now! Only wasn't it wicked of you to slip off like that? You had only dictated for an hour and a half!
Sir J. I thought you were tired!
Marg. (with enthusiasm) Tired! I could go on forever! It's immensely interesting—fascinating. Oh, how wonderful you are!
Sir J. (clearing his throat) H'm—I—
Marg. Constitutional Law, one would think would be a dry subject. To me it's a fairy tale.
Sir J. Er—