mr. tatton. [With mock roguishness.] Ah!
george is on the terrace, looking to the left through the trees. tatton is sitting on the edge of the fountain.
george. Here's the sun . . . to show us ourselves.
mr. tatton. Leete, this pond is full of water!
carnaby. Ann, if you are there . . .
ann. Yes, Papa.
carnaby. Apologise profusely; it's your garden.
ann. Oh . . .
carnaby. Coat-tails, Tatton . . . or worse?