GLORIA (warningly). Father!
CRAMPTON (subsiding piteously). I didn't mean you, my dear. (Pleading earnestly to Bohun.) But the two younger ones! you have not seen them, Mr. Bohun; and indeed I think you would agree with me that there is something very noticeable, something almost gay and frivolous in their style of dressing.
MRS. CLANDON (impatiently). Do you suppose I choose their clothes for them? Really this is childish.
CRAMPTON (furious, rising). Childish! (Mrs. Clandon rises indignantly.)
McCOMAS } (all ris- } Crampton, you promised—
VALENTINE } ing and } Ridiculous. They dress
} speaking } charmingly.
GLORIA } together). } Pray let us behave reasonably.
Tumult. Suddenly they hear a chime of glasses in the room behind them. They turn in silent surprise and find that the waiter has just come back from the bar in the garden, and is jingling his tray warningly as he comes softly to the table with it.
WAITER (to Crampton, setting a tumbler apart on the table). Irish for you, sir. (Crampton sits down a little shamefacedly. The waiter sets another tumbler and a syphon apart, saying to Bohun) Scotch and syphon for you, sir. (Bohun waves his hand impatiently. The waiter places a large glass jug in the middle.) And claret cup. (All subside into their seats. Peace reigns.)