MISS THREEGAN. (_Extracting long lavender silk stocking from the rubbish._) You know him better than _I_ do.
MISS D. Oh, _do_ be sympathetic, Minnie! I"m _sure_ he does. At least I _would_ be sure if he wasn"t always riding with that odious Mrs. Hagan.
MISS T. I suppose so. How _does_ one manage to dance through one"s heels first? Look at this--isn"t it shameful? (_Spreads stocking-heel on open hand for inspection_)
MISS D. Never mind that! You can"t mend it. Help me with this hateful bodice, I"ve run the string _so_, and I"ve run the string _so_, and I can"t make the fulness come right. Where would you put this? (_Waves lilies of the valley._)
MISS T. As high up on the shoulder as possible.
MISS D. Am I quite tall enough? I know it makes May Olger look lop-sided.
MISS T. Yes, but May hasn"t your shoulders. Hers are like a hock-bottle.
BEARER. (_Rapping at door._) Captain Sahib _aya._
MISS D. (_Jumping up wildly, and hunting for body, which she has discarded owing to the heat of the day._) Captain Sahib! What Captain Sahib? Oh, good gracious, and I"m only half dressed! Well, I shan"t bother.
MISS T. (_Calmly._) You needn"t. It isn"t for us. That"s Captain Gadsby.
He is going for a ride with Mamma. He generally comes five days out of the seven.
AGONISED VOICE. (_From an inner apartment._) Minnie, run out and give Captain Gadsby some tea, and tell him I shall be ready in ten minutes; and, O Minnie, come to me an instant, there"s a dear girl!
MISS T. Oh, bother! (_Aloud._) Very well, Mamma.
_Exit, and reappears, after five minutes, flushed, and rubbing her fingers._
MISS D. You look pink. What has happened?
MISS T. (_In a stage whisper._) A twenty-four-inch waist, and she won"t let it out. Where _are_ my bangles? (_Rummages on the toilet-table, and dabs at her hair with a brush in the interval._)
MISS D. Who is this Captain Gadsby? I don"t think I"ve met him.
MISS T. You _must_ have. He belongs to the Harrar set. I"ve danced with him, but I"ve never talked to him. He"s a big yellow man, just like a newly-hatched chicken, with an e-normous moustache. He walks like this (_imitates Cavalry swagger_), and he goes "Ha-Hmmm!" deep down in his throat when he can"t think of anything to say. Mamma likes him. I don"t.
MISS D. (_Abstractedly_.) Does he wax his moustache?
MISS T. (_Busy with powder-puff_.) Yes, I think so. Why?
MISS D. (_Bending oner the bodice and sewing furiously_.) Oh, nothing--only--
MISS T. (_Sternly_.) Only what? Out with it, Emma.
MISS D. Well, May Olger--she"s engaged to Mr. Charteris, you know--said--Promise you won"t repeat this?
MISS T. Yes, I promise. What did she say?
MISS D. That--that being kissed (_with a rush_) by a man who _didn"t_ wax his moustache was--like eating an egg without salt.
MISS T. (_At her full height, with crushing scorn_.) May Olger is a horrid, nasty _Thing_, and you can tell her I said so. I"m glad she doesn"t belong to my set--I must go and feed this _man!_ Do I look presentable?
MISS D. Yes, perfectly. Be quick and hand him over to your Mother, and then we can talk. _I_ shall listen at the door to hear what you say to him.
MISS T. "Sure I don"t care. _I"m_ not afraid of Captain Gadsby.
_In proof of this swings into drawing-room with a mannish stride followed by two short steps, which produces the effect of a restive horse entering. Misses CAPTAIN GADSBY, who is sitting in the shadow of the window-curtain, and gazes round helplessly._
CAPTAIN GADSBY. (_Aside_.) The filly, by Jove! "Must ha" picked up that action from the sire. (_Aloud, rising_.) Good evening, Miss Threegan.
MISS T. (_Conscious that she is flushing_.) Good evening, Captain Gadsby. Mamma told me to say that she will be ready in a few minutes.
Won"t you have some tea? (_Aside_.) I hope Mamma will be quick. What _am_ I to say to the creature? (_Aloud and abruptly_.) Milk and sugar?
CAPT. G. No sugar, tha-anks, and very little milk. Ha-Hmmm.
MISS T. (_Aside_.) If he"s going to do that, I"m lost. I shall laugh. I _know_ I shall!
CAPT. G. (_Pulling at his moustache and watching it sideways down his nose_.) Ha-Hmmm. (_Aside_.) "Wonder what the little beast can talk about. "Must make a shot at it.
MISS T. (_Aside_.) Oh, this is agonising. I _must_ say something.
BOTH TOGETHER. Have you been---
CAPT. G. I beg your pardon. You were going to say---
MISS T. (_Who has been watching the moustache with awed fascination_.) Won"t you have some eggs?
CAPT. G. (_Looking bewilderedly at the tea-table_.) Eggs! (_A side_.) O Hades! She must have a nursery-tea at this hour. S"pose they"ve wiped her mouth and sent her to me while the Mother is getting on her duds.
(_Aloud_.) No, thanks.
MISS T. (_Crimson with confusion_.) Oh! I didn"t mean that. I wasn"t thinking of mou--eggs for an instant. I mean _salt_. Won"t you have some sa--- sweets? (_Aside_.) He"ll think me a raving lunatic. I wish Mamma would come.
CAPT. G. (_Aside_.) It _was_ a nursery-tea and she"s ashamed of it. By Jove! She doesn"t look half bad when she colours up like that. (_Aloud, helping himself from the dish_.) Have you seen those new chocolates at Peliti"s?
MISS T. No, I made these myself. What are they like?
CAPT. G. These! _De_-licious. (_Aside_.) And that"s a fact.
MISS T. (_Aside_.) Oh, bother! he"ll think I"m fishing for compliments.
(_Aloud_.) No, Peliti"s of course.
CAPT. G. (_Enthusiastically_.) Not to compare with these. How d"you make them? I can"t get my _khansamah_ to understand the simplest thing beyond mutton and fowl.
MISS T. Yes? I"m not a _khansamah_, you know. Perhaps you frighten him.
You should never frighten a servant. He loses his head. It"s very bad policy.
CAPT. G. He"s so awf"ly stupid.
MISS T. (_Folding her hands in her lap_.) You should call him quietly and say: "O _khansamah jee!_"