CROFTS. Gardner’ll put me up.
MRS WARREN. Oh, no doubt you’ve taken care of yourself! But what about Praddy?
CROFTS. Don’t know. I suppose he can sleep at the inn.
MRS WARREN. Havn’t you room for him, Sam?
REV. S. Well—er—you see, as rector here, I am not free to do as I like. Er—what is Mr Praed’s social position?
MRS WARREN. Oh, he’s all right: he’s an architect. What an old stick-in-the-mud you are, Sam!
FRANK. Yes, it’s all right, gov’nor. He built that place down in Wales for the Duke. Caernarvon Castle they call it. You must have heard of it. [He winks with lightning smartness at Mrs Warren, and regards his father blandly].
REV. S. Oh, in that case, of course we shall only be too happy. I suppose he knows the Duke personally.
FRANK. Oh, ever so intimately! We can stick him in Georgina’s old room.
MRS WARREN. Well, thats settled. Now if those two would only come in and let us have supper. Theyve no right to stay out after dark like this.