That's odd. Because, now I come to think of it, there isn't any Arab encampment there this season.
Horace.
Then they come from somewhere else. At all events, they're playing here for nothing.
Professor Futvoye.
Ah! They know their own value!
Mrs. Futvoye.
Now, Anthony, you're finding fault before they've even begun! [She rises.] That was only tuning, of course! [She passes in front of the Musicians, and then comes down to Horace.] Can they play English music? Do ask them if they know "The Choristers."
Horace.
I'm afraid they're not at all likely to be familiar with it.
[The Musicians begin once more, and Mrs. Futvoye retreats hastily to the divan, as they sing and play for a few bars in hideous cacophony.