crowe. Call out to your man for it.
dolly. [Going to the dining-room door.] Will a gentleman please ask Mr. George Leete for my Cache-y-mire shawl?
mr. crowe. [To carnaby.] And I drank to the health of our grandson.
carnaby. Now suppose George were to assume your name, Mr. Crowe?
mr. tozer comes out of the dining-room. Of the worst type of eighteenth century parson, for which one may see Hogarth's 'Harlot's Progress.' He is very drunk.
sir george leete. [In his wife's ear.] Tozer!
lady leete. When . . why!
sir george leete. To say grace.
lady leete folds her withered hands.