Charles. Wasn't that the name of our young hopeful this morning?
Flora. (Brightening again.) The imitation curate? Of course it was!
Mrs. R. Haslam. But surely——
Cuthbert. He bears no resemblance to a curate, ma'am.
Flora. Then it is he! Oh! if it is, do let's see him! In private life he must be extremely interesting. (To Cuthbert.) Show him in, will you, please?
(Exit Cuthbert.)
Mrs. R. Haslam. Flora—really I don't know what's come over you all!
Flora. It seems to me that the curate has come over us all.
(Enter Cuthbert, and Frampington in tourist attire.)
(Exit Cuthbert.)