Col. G. Yes, sir.
Ger. Throw it over that—
Col. G. This, sir?
Ger. No, no—the clay there. Thank you. (A knock at the door.) See who that is.
Col. G. Are you at home, sir?
Ger. That depends. Not to Mr. Waterfield. Oh, my head! my head! [Exit COL. G.
Enter CONSTANCE. GER. starts, but keeps his head leaning on his
hand.
Con. I forgot to say to you, Arthur,—. But you are ill! What is the matter, dear Arthur?
Ger. (without looking up) Nothing—only a headache.
Con. Do come home with me, and let aunt and me nurse you. Don't be vexed with me any more. I will do whatever you like. I couldn't go home without seeing you again. And now I find you ill!