Uncle Gab. Come, come, young lady, where are your manners? That's not the way to speak to that Gentleman. You should say—"Will your Lordship be so very kind as to pass the preserved ginger?"
Lord Strath. (impatiently). Please don't, Gwennie! I like your own style much the best! [He helps her to the preserve.
Uncle Gab. You mustn't allow the child to take liberties, my Lord. Now, Gwen, suppose you tell me and his Lordship here something you've been learning lately—don't be shy, now!
Mrs. Tid. Yes, Gwennie—tell Uncle a little tale—repeat something to him, come, darling!
Gwen. No, I shan't, Mamma!
[She pegs away stolidly at the preserved ginger.
Uncle Gab. Hullo? 'Shan't' to your Mother? This how you bring the child up, Maria?
Mrs. Tid. Not when Mother asks you to, Gwen? And Uncle wanting to hear it so! No? Why won't you?
Gwen. Because Miss Seaton told me not to—and I won't, either.
Uncle Gab. Hah—Miss Seaton seems the supreme authority here, evidently—better get her permission, Maria!