PHOEBE. Yes, sir, I forgot--I-- (_aside_) I don't know what I'm about! (_enters at door, L._) BUNNY. (_turning and seeing JONATHAN_) What's that? (_using his eye glass and looking JONATHAN from head to foot_) Jonathan, step this way, if you please, sir. (_JONATHAN advances, carrying the loaded tray--turns JONATHAN'S shirt collars down_) Now go into the ball room, and present the tray to each lady, at the end of the polka. JONATH. Present the tray at the end of a poker. BUNNY. Polka! In this way. (_taking the tray, and presenting it in a graceful attitude_) JONATH. Well, I don't mind if I do. (_taking a glass of negus, and drinking it off_) BUNNY. What the devil are you at? Now go along; (_giving JONATHAN the tray_) and mind what you're about, or else I shall be under the painful necessity of discharging you from my establishment. _Exit JONATHAN, C. towards R._ _At the same moment, COCKLETOP enters at C. from L. carrying his hat and black paletot over his arm--he is in evening costume, but very red in the face, and looks slightly tipsy, he has a red worsted comforter hanging loose round his neck, which he takes off as he enters, and throws over his paletot._ BUNNY. (_L., seeing him_) Ah, Cockletop! better late than never! Well, where's "our dear nephew?" our young Adonis from Cambridge, eh? COCKLE. (_R., very loud_) Hush! (_then swaying about, and smiling stupidly at BUNNY_) BUNNY. Why, what's the matter? COCKLE. Hush! (_same play repeated_) BUNNY. I ask you again, where is "our dear----?" COCKLE. Hush! (_same play repeated, then making two or three attempts to seize BUNNY'S hand, and missing it_) BUNNY. (_aside_) He's been at the negus. COCKLE. I love you, Bunny--dearly, Bunny! do I love you, Bunny? (_looking pathetic, then smiling stupidly as before, and making another failure in seizing BUNNY'S hand_) BUNNY. Once for all, Cockletop, if you don't instantly explain, I'll have you put to bed! Where is your nephew, Mr. Triptolemus Brown? COCKLE. (_smiling stupidly_) I don't know. BUNNY. Haven't you seen him? COCKLE. Distinctly, about an hour ago, running up Compton Street like a madman towards his lodging. I ran after him, shouting all the time--followed him into the house, then up three flights of stairs--found the door slammed in my face--burst it open--rushed into the room--empty!--nothing in it! BUNNY. Pshaw! it must have been somebody else you saw. COCKLE. I came to that conclusion myself; so I determined to wait; ordered a fire, and a bottle of Sherry; fell asleep--woke again--ordered another---- BUNNY. Another fire? COCKLE. Another bottle of Sherry. BUNNY. No wonder you're so red in the face. Well? COCKLE. At last, I remembered telling him to buy himself a pair of white kid gloves--so off I set to all the hosier's shops in the neighbourhood, bought a pair of gloves at each--sixteen of them; here they are; (_tapping the pocket of his paletot_) but all in vain! (_turns up to C. door--polka heard off at back_)