Tom. I’ve your permission?
Sir H. But don’t hold me responsible, whatever happens.
Re-enter Dr. Dozey, through window, and down, C.
Dr. The widow has arrived.
Sir H. Mrs. Blake?
Dr. I was sedately pacing up and down the drive, reflecting on the vanity of life, when I was nearly upset by her equipage.
Sir H. I must go and welcome her. Excuse me, Mr. Potter; the doctor will entertain you. (Exit through window)
Tom. Thanks, but I’ll find Miss Preston. (Exit, R.)
Re-enter Mrs. Dozey, down the stairs, in a flutter of excitement.
Mrs. D. Dionysius?