Lord Strath. (wearily). I know—but—er—why try? Wouldn't plain nonsense be rather more amusing—at dinner, don't you know?
Uncle Gab. (stormily). Don't think you're going to ride roughshod over me, my Lord! If you think yourself above your company——
Lord Strath. I assure you I've no idea what I've said or done to offend you, Sir. It was perfectly unintentional on my part.
Uncle Gab. (relaxing). In that case, my Lord, no further apology is needed. I—ah—accept the olive-branch!
Lord Strath. By all means—if I may trouble you for the olives.
Uncle Gab. (effusively). With all the pleasure in life, my Lord. And, without withdrawing in any sort or kind from any of my general opinions, I think I express the sentiment of all present when I say how deeply we feel the honour——
Lord Strath. (to himself). Good Lord—he's going to make a speech now! (Little Gwendolen enters demurely and draws up a chair between his and her mother's.) Saved, by Jove! Child to the rescue? (To her.) So you're going to sit next to me, eh? That's right! Now what shall I get you—some of those grapes?
Gwen. No, a baby orange with silver paper round it, please. What is it, Miss Seaton? [She rises and goes to Miss S.
Miss Seaton (whispering). Now, darling, be careful—you know what I told you—you mustn't tell tales or repeat things!