Enter MRS. LARKINGS and MRS. CARVER, C.
LARK. (assuming an air of unconcern) Ah, my dear!
MRS. L. (R.—extending her arm) Keep your distance, sir. I know all—all! In a word, I am now going to Mr. Swansdown’s—you hear—to Mr. Swansdown’s, for a certain letter—a love letter, sir, written by you to Mrs. Swansdown.
LARK. (C.) By me! Ha, ha, ha! I should like to see it. Go and fetch it, my dear; why don’t you go for it, my love? Tra, la, la! (humming a tune)
Enter DAVID, L.
DAVID. (to MRS. LARKINGS) Please, ma’am. (aside) Don’t let me forget what master told me to say. (aloud) Here be a letter, ma’am, from Mr. Swan—Swan——
MRS. L. (eagerly) Swansdown? give it me? (snatching letter from DAVID, but keeping her eyes fixed on LARKINGS, who tries to appear unconcerned, and endeavours to get up a whistle) You may go, David!
Exit DAVID, L.
LARK. (aside) Woodcock’s gone and bungled the business—I knew he would. (MRS. LARKINGS tears open the envelope) She’s opened it; it’s all over with me!
MRS. L. (reading) “To see you is to love you.” (suddenly) Eh! can it be? yes! yes! (with an exclamation of joy, and throwing her arms round LARKINGS) Oh, my dear, darling Christopher!