Lady B. (aside). What shall I say? Merciful Powers, what shall I say to her? [Disturbed sounds without.
Monks. I don't know what you'd better say, but I can tell you what your Ladyship had better do—and that is, take your 'ook while you can. Even now the outraged populace approaches, to wreak a hawful vengeance upon your guilty 'ed! [Melodramatic music.
Lady B. (distractedly). A mob! I cannot face them—they will tear me limb from limb. At my age I could not survive such an indignity as that! Hide me, Monkshood—help me to escape!
Monks. There is a secret underground passage, known only to myself, communicating with the nearest railway station. I will point it out, and personally conduct your Ladyship—for a consideration—one thousand pounds down.
[The noise increases.
Elfie. No, Granny, don't trust him! Be calm and brave. Await the mob here. Leave it all to me. I will explain everything to them—how you meant no ill,—how, at the very time they thought you were meditating an injury, you were actually spending money in insuring all their lives. When I tell them that——
Monks. Ah, you tell 'em that, and see. It's too late now—they are here!
[Shouts without. Lady B. crouches on floor. Little Elfie goes to the window, throws open the shutters, and stands on balcony in her fluttering white robe, and the limelight.
Elfie. Yes, they are here. Why, they are carrying torches!—(Lady B. groans)—and banners, too! I think they have a band.... Who is that tall, stout gentleman, in the white hat, on horseback, and the lady in a pony-trap, with, oh, such a beautiful complexion! There is an inscription on one of the flags—I can read it quite plainly. "Thanks to the generous Donor!" (That must be you, Grandmother!) And there are children who dance, and scatter flowers. They are asking for a speech. (Speaking off.) "If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmama is not at all well, but she wishes me to say she wishes you a Merry Christmas, and is very glad you all like your presents so much. Good-bye, good-bye!" (Returning down Stage.) Now they have gone away, Granny.... They did look so grateful!
Lady B. (bewildered). What is this! Sir Vevey, Lady Violet,—alive, well? This deputation of gratitude? Am I mad, dreaming—or what does it all mean?