If we had known Aunt a little longer we might have confided in her and taken her with us.
Sheba.
Poor Aunt—we mustn’t spoil her.
Darbey.
[Speaking outside.] I venture to differ with you, my dear Dean.
Georgiana.
Here come the wax-works!
[She joins the girls as Darbey enters through the Library, patronizing The Dean, who accompanies him.
Darbey.
Haw! I’ve just been putting the Dean right about a little army question, Mrs.—Mrs.—— I can’t catch your name.