PURDIE (waggishly). Rather!
LOB (the artful). Just wasting the evening. Let us have a round game at cards here instead.
PURDIE (grandly), No, sir, I am going to find that wood.
JOANNA. What is the good of it when it is found?
PURDIE. We shall wander in it deliciously, listening to a new sort of bird called the Philomel.
(LOB is behaving in the most exemplary manner; making sweet little clucking sounds.)
JOANNA (doubtfully). Shall we keep together, Mr. Purdie?
PURDIE. No, we must hunt in pairs.
JOANNA. (converted). I think it would be rather fun. Come on, Coady, I'll lace your boots for you. I am sure your poor foot will carry you nicely.
ALICE. Miss Trout, wait a moment. Lob, has this wonderful wood any special properties?