Sir Wilfrid. Oh, hang the future!
Philip. I begin to hope, Sir Wilfrid, that in the future I shall have the pleasure of hanging you! [To John.] And as to you, sir, your insensate idea of giving away your own—your former—my—your—oh! Good Lord! This is a nightmare! [He turns to go in despair. Matthew, coming in, meets him, and stops him at the door.
Matthew. [To Philip.] My dear brother, Aunt Sarah Heneage refuses to give Mrs. Karslake away, unless you yourself,—eh—
Philip. [As he goes out.] No more! I'll attend to the matter! [The Choir Boys are heard practising in the next room.
Matthew. [Mopping his brow.] How do you both do? My aunt has made me very warm. [Ringing the bell.] You hear our choir practising—sweet angel boys! H'm! H'm! Some of the family will not be present. I am very fond of you, Mr. Karslake, and I think it admirably Christian of you to have waived your—eh—your—eh—that is, now that I look at it more narrowly, let me say, that in the excitement of pleasurable anticipation, I forgot, Karslake, that your presence might occasion remark— [Thomas responds to his ring.] Thomas! I left, in the hall, a small hand-bag or satchel containing my surplice.
Thomas. Yes, sir. Ahem!
Matthew. You must really find the hand-bag at once.
[Thomas turns to go, when he stops startled.
Thomas. Yes, sir. [Announcing in consternation.] Mrs. Vida Phillimore. [Vida Phillimore, in full evening dress, steps gently up to Matthew.
Matthew. [Always piously serene.] Ah, my dear child! Now this is just as it should be! That is, eh— [He walks to the centre of the room with her, Vida, the while, pointedly disregarding Sir Wilfrid.] That is, when I come to think of it—your presence might be deemed inauspicious.