Brooke Twombley.

[To Drumdurris.] It’s too bad of the Mater! Fancy a fellow making a chum of his tailor—what?

Earl of Drumdurris.

Mr. White, may I speak to you?

[Brooke, Drumdurris, and Valentine go out.]

Mrs. Gaylustre.

[Examining the flute.] Pa has been tootling again, Kate—we must buy him a drum.

Lady Twombley.

Ah—h—h—h!

Mrs. Gaylustre.