Coddle (outside). Jane!
Jane. Oh, sir, now pray be careful. He’s as spiteful as spiteful. If he finds you out, all the fat’ll be in the fire.
Whitwell. Be quite easy, Jane. To win Eglantine I’ll be a horse-post, a tomb-stone. Fire a thousand-pounder at my ear, and I’ll not wink.
Coddle (outside). Jane, Jane! I say.
Jane. Step into the garden, Mr. Whittermat; and when I ring the dinner-bell, don’t you take no notice.
Whitwell. I’m fly. But ain’t I hungry, though, by Jove! Don’t forget me.
Jane (pushing him out C.). I’ll come out and call you. (Exeunt L.)
(Enter Coddle, R.)
Coddle. A miracle! A perfect miracle. Wonderful electro-acoustico-galvanism! I can hear! I can hear! I can hear!
(Enter Eglantine.)