SCENE.—The GADSEYS' bungalow in the Plains, on a January morning. MRS. G. arguing with bearer in back veranda.
CAPT. M. rides up.
CAPT. M. 'Mornin', Mrs. Gadsby. How's the Infant Phenomenon and the Proud Proprietor?
MRS. G. You'll find them in the front veranda; go through the house. I'm Martha just now.
CAPT. M. 'Cumbered about with cares of khitmatgars? I fly.
Passes into front veranda, where GADSBY is watching GADSBY JUNIOR, aged ten months, crawling about the
matting.
CAPT. M. What's the trouble, Gaddy—spoiling an honest man's Europe morning this way? (Seeing G. JUNIOR.) By Jove, that yearling's comin' on amazingly! Any amount of bone below the knee there.
CAPT. G. Yes, he's a healthy little scoundrel. Don't you think his hair's growing?
M. Let's have a look. Hi! Hst! Come here, General Luck, and we'll report on you.
MRS. G. (Within.) What absurd name will you give him next? Why do you call him that?