George (with disgust). He never is, when he’s in this country.
Dennis. You never could guess a conundrum!
George. Give it up, old man.
Dennis. When he’s a little early.
George. Hurry up, Steve. Dennis is in sad need of dinner.
Steven (reading letter). How’s this?
“Dear Frank,—We hear you are to come up here on Tuesday. Now, if you want a soft thing pay heed to what I write. We expect a howling English Lord up here the last of the week, and the girls are going to lay themselves out for his benefit, just to spite us poor republicans. Put on goggles, a beard and wig; get a big pattern suit and a leather hat-box, and telegraph Mrs. Wycherly (in the name of Ferrol), that you will arrive on the 5.15 train Tuesday. You will be met, coddled, caressed, etc. etc., till we shall all call you tenderfoot. But a word in your ear! Make yourself rather disagreeable. Dress in the wrong clothes at meals. Use the words ‘nasty’ and ‘beastly’ frequently, and of all things meet the girls more than half-way in their attentions. Your name is George Augustus Guelph Dunstan, Earl of Ferrol and Staunton. Your papa is the Marquess of D-a-c-h-a-n-t (pronounced Jaunt). Your dear mama is no more. You have been in Florida, where you hurt your eyes, and are just from Washington—‘a beastly bore, you know.’ I would give untold gold if I could do it instead of you.
“Always yours, Steve.”
Dennis. I say, boys, we must have a kodak ready for the unveiling, and catch the girls’ faces on the fly.
| George | } (together, shaking hands and |
| Steven | } laughing heartily). Oh! won’t |
| Dennis | } it be rich! |