Fiddler. Yes'm!
Cynthia. [In a half whisper, still speaking on impulse.] How is she! Cynthia K? How's Planet II and the colt and Golden Rod? How's the whole stable? Are they well?
Fiddler. No'm—we're all on the bum. [Aside.] Ever since you kicked us over!
Cynthia. [Reproving him, though pleased.] Fiddler!
Fiddler. The horses is just simply gone to Egypt since you left, and so's the guv'nor.
Cynthia. [Putting an end to Fiddler.] That will do, Fiddler.
Fiddler. I'm waiting for an answer, sir.
Cynthia. What is it, Philip?
Philip. [Uncomfortable.] A mere matter of business. [Aside to Fiddler.] The answer is, Mr. Karslake can come. The—the coast will be clear. [Fiddler goes out.
Cynthia. [Amazed; rising.] You're not going to see him?