Telfer.
Let us both go home.
Mrs. Telfer.
[Restraining him.] No, let us remain. We've been idle six months, and I can't bear to see you without your watch and all your comforts about you.
Telfer.
[Pointing toward the Green-room.] And so this new-fangled stuff, and these dandified people, are to push us, and such as us, from our stools!
Mrs. Telfer.
Yes, James, just as some other new fashion will, in course of time, push them from their stools.
[From the Green-room comes the sound of a slight clapping of hands, followed by a murmur of voices. The Telfers move away. Imogen, elaborately dressed, enters from the Green-room and goes leisurely to the prompt-table. She is followed by Tom, manuscript in hand, smarter than usual in appearance; and he by O'Dwyer,—an excitable Irishman of about forty, with an extravagant head of hair,—who carries a small bundle of "parts" in brown-paper covers. Tom and O'Dwyer join Imogen.]