Jack (with awful meaning). There may be a funeral. Whose are they?
Maude (demurely). Mine.
Jack (with infinite patience). You know what I mean, (with terrible calmness). Who gave you those?
Maude (preparing to cry). You're awfully cross, I think.
(Mr. Bulbus enters in rear hunting something. Maude sees him.)
Jack (unmoved). Who gave you those?
Maude (graciously, sweetly). Mr. Bulbus, the lilies are lovely.
Mr. B. (surprised into dropping a hammer). Yes'sum, I'm glad you–you like 'em. (retreats in confusion.)
Jack Oh! (slowly). That's awfully nice of you.
(Enter Mrs. De Smythe and Miss Hoppenhoer, bonnets and gloves on.)