MRS. LEMMY. Gude naight, sir; gude naight, ma'am; thank yu for my cup o' tea, an' all yore kindness.
[She shakes hands with LORD and LADY WILLIAM, drops the curtsey
of her youth before Mr. POULDER, and goes out followed by LITTLE
AIDA, who is looking back at LITTLE ANNE.]
LEMMY. [Turning suddenly] Aoh! An' jist one frog! Next time yer build an 'ouse, daon't forget—it's the foundytions as bears the wyte.
[With a wink that gives way, to a last fascinated look at LADY
WILLIAM, he passes out. All gaze after them, except THE PRESS,
who is tragically consulting his spiflicated notes.]
L. ANNE. [Breaking away from Miss STOKES and rushing forward] Oh!
Mum! what was it?
CURTAIN
THE SKIN GAME
(A TRAGI-COMEDY)
"Who touches pitch shall be defiled"