Lucy. Ah, but where can we find such a patient?
Friskey. She's here beneath this humble roof—"The Duchess of Dublin," incog.
Lucy. Why, Frank, what a desperate idea!
Friskey. Desperate cases require desperate means. What say you, will you join me?
Lucy. In what way?
Friskey. We will leave this house at once, separate, you go to the right, I to the left. Drop in here and there quite accidentally, and, in confidence, disclose the interesting news that "The Duchess of Dublin," incog., is in the skilful hands of Dr. Aconite. Magnify it a little, and await the result. I am confident that before night Adam will be as happy as a rush of complicated disorders can make an M. D.
Lucy. Capital! only if we are found out—
Friskey. We'll laugh it off as a capital joke. If, in the mean time, Adam gets a good patient, he'll make his way to a good practice.
Lucy. It's an absurd idea to exalt our Maggie to so high a position. Should anybody see her—