IN THE CENTRAL HALL.
The usual Jocose 'Arry (who has come here with 'Arriet, for no very obvious reason, as they neither of them know or care about any history but their own). Well, I s'pose as we are 'ere, we'd better go in a buster for a book o' the words, eh? (To Commissionaire.) What are yer doin' them c'rect guides at, ole man? A shillin'? Not me! 'Ere, 'Arriet, we'll make it out for ourselves.
A Young Man (who has dropped in for five minutes—"just to say he's been, don't you know"). 'Jove—my Aunt! Nip out before she spots me.... Stop, though, suppose she has spotted me? Never can tell with giglamps ... better not risk it. [Is "spotted" while hesitating.
His Aunt. I didn't recognise you till just this moment, John, my boy. I was just wishing I had some one to read out all the extracts in the Catalogue for me; now we can go round together.
[John affects a dutiful delight at this suggestion, and wonders mentally if he can get away in time to go to afternoon tea with those pretty Chesterton Girls.
An Uncle (who has taken Master Tommy out for the afternoon). This is the way to make your English History real to you, my boy!
[Tommy, who had cherished hopes of Covent Garden Circus, privately thinks that English History is a sufficiently unpleasant reality as it is, and conceives a bitter prejudice against the entire Tudor Period on the spot.
The Intelligent Person. Ha! armour of the period, you see!
"WHAT ARE YOU DOIN' THEM C'RECT GUIDES AT, OLE MAN? A SHILLIN'? NOT me!"