Certainly. Just the sort of simple little Miss you could play now, Rose. And we thought that old Mr. Morfew would help us in the speculation. Speculation! it's a dead certainty!
Tom.
Dead certainty? poor Morfew!
Imogen.
And here we are, stuck fast——!
Tom.
[Sitting upon the dress-basket dejectedly.] And they'll expect me to rehearse that dragon to-morrow with enthusiasm.
Rose.
[Putting her arm around his shoulder.] Never mind, Tom.