[There is a perceptible flutter in the company, as a ruddy-haired and rather plain young man enters with an apologetic and even diffident air, and pauses in evident uncertainty as to his host and hostess.
Uncle Gab. (to himself.) A Lord! Bless my soul! Monty and Maria are getting up in the world!
Guests (to themselves.) A Lord! No wonder they kept the dinner back!
Miss Seaton (after a hurried glance—to herself.) Good Heavens! Douglas Claymore!—reduced to this! [She lowers her head.
Mr. Tid. (to himself.) They might have told me they were going to send us a Lord—I never ordered one! I wonder if he's genuine—he don't look it. If I could only find out, quietly!
Mrs. Tid. (to herself.) Gracious! And I was going to send him in with the Governess! (To her Husb. in a whisper.) Montague, what are you about? Go and be civil to him—do!
[She rings the bell twice: Mr. Tidmarsh advances, purple with indignation and embarrassment, to welcome the new-comer, who shakes him warmly by the hand.
(End of Scene III.)
Her Way of Putting It.—Mrs. R. thinks she has an excellent memory for riddles. She was delighted with that somewhat old conundrum about "What is more wonderful than Jonah in the whale?" to which the answer is, "Two men in a fly," and determined to puzzle her nephew with it the very next time she met him. "Such a capital riddle I've got for you, John!" she exclaimed, "Let me see. Oh, yes—I remember—yes, that's it;" and then, having settled the form of the question, she put it thus—"What is more wonderful than two men in an omnibus?" And when she gave the answer, "Jonah in a fly," and correcting herself immediately, said, "No—I mean, 'Jonah in a whale,'" her nephew affectionately recommended his excellent relative to lie down and take a little rest.