MRS. J. So it is! How fortunate, to be sure! My dear Mr. O’Walker!
O’WALKER. Mrs. Jellicoe! Miss Fanny, too! (passing his umbrella, which is still open, from one hand to the other as he shakes hands with them) I was that moment thinking of you—I was indeed, my dear Mrs. Pimlico—I mean Jellicoe. (aside) That ruffian Dibbs! (aloud) And how’s my Arabella—I mean my Fanny? (aside, and looking at his watch) A quarter to two.
MRS. J. Here’s a dreadful day, Mr. O’Walker; but it can’t be helped.
O’WALKER. No—I believe the only thing to be done is, what they do in Spain when it rains.
MRS. J. And what’s that?
O’WALKER. Why, they let it rain!—I don’t know why they should, but they do!
MRS. J. Ha, ha, ha!—you’re a funny creature! besides, as the old joke says, it suits the ducks.
O’WALKER. Not mine! (showing his splashed trousers)
FANNY. Ha! ha!
O’WALKER. Don’t laugh, Miss Fanny; ducks are no joke I can tell you, and so you’ll find when the washing bills come in—after we are married; by-the-bye, suppose we wash at home? I appeal to you, Mrs. Jellicoe—you’re a woman of experience in household matters, you’ve been washed by other people, and you’ve washed yourself—now which do you recommend?