ARTH. And may I hope—
SIR F. Have him now, Myrtle, while you can get him!
LADY F. Keep her to her promise, Mr. Vallance!
ARTH. Gladly! But it all depends on my uncle how soon!
SIR F. Then he shall decide at once! Turn out, old tortoise! (Wheels couch round to face the audience, and pulling off the antimacassars, etc.) Hang me if he isn’t fast asleep! Wake up! (tickling COLONEL with the feather brush).
COL. All right! Bring me my shaving-water! (Sitting up, and looking about him.) Holloa!
ARTH. Have you forgotten all about the elopement, uncle?
COL. Elopement! Why, you ought to have been half way to the Sandwich Islands by this time!
ARTH. Ha! ha! We’ve arranged that little matter differently.
COL. (crustily). Then what the deuce did you wake me up for?