_The Signor_ (_bestirring himself with as much dignity as is possible under the circumstances_). I go. Vere is my leet-tel slip-pers? (_Protesting_) I shall catch my dets of cold. (_He finds them._) _Madame._ Now, Mr. Regniati, make haste, or we shall be late. (_Shuts his dressing-room door on him._) In about a quarter of an hour after this, the carriage is announced, and the Signor is hurried down stairs. _The Signor_ (_complaining_). Oh! I am so ongry. (_Procrastinating._) Ve 'ave time to take som-sing to eat, be-fore zat ve ... _Madame_ (_cutting him short_). Nonsense, Mr. Regniati. If you wanted to stuff, you should have got up earlier. _Mr. Regniati._ Stoff! (_Protests._) My Jo! I do not stoff! (_Unhappily._) I 'ave no-sing in ... _Madame_ (_ascetically_). A little abstinence will do you good. Come. _Exeunt Madame, attended by the Signor. Carriage drives off._ Mrs. Orby Frimmely, whose new things came down yesterday--latest Parisian mode--the two Misses Cherton, Miss Medford, Captain Byrton, Chilvern, Cazell, are the Church party. Mr. Orby Frimmely, having been busy in the City all the week, is what he calls "taking it out" in bed on Sunday morning. He emphatically asserts his position (a horizontal one), and with religious fervour claims Sunday as a day of rest. Being uncertain of the weather I remain at home with Milburd. Milburd shifts the responsibility on to my shoulders by saying, "I'll go if you'll go." Hesitation. _Happy Thought._ Wait and see what the weather is like. At a quarter to eleven (service is at eleven) the weather is like nothing particular. _10.50._ A gleam of sunshine. We watch it. The Signor, to whom the weather is of consequence, as he intends walking to the nearest farm on a visit of inspection to some rather fine pigs, remarks, "It vill 'old-up. Ven de sun shine now, it shine all day." Milburd doesn't think so. My opinion is that these rays are treacherous. _10.55._ First appearance of genuine blue sky. Peal of bells stopped, and one only going now. The last call. More hesitation, I ask Milburd what he thinks of it. Milburd, in an arm-chair before fire and the "Field" newspaper in his hand, says "that he doesn't know what to make of it." Further hesitation. _Eleven._ Cessation of all bells. Sudden silence everywhere. Sky bright and blue. Sun out. _Happy Thought._--If we'd only known this we might have gone to church. _Milburd_ (_from behind the "Field"_). "Yes. It's too late now." The Signor has started with Jenkyns Soames (who is of some philosophic form of religion, in which long walks and gymnastics play leading parts), for the Piggeries. Of Boodels nothing has been seen, or heard, since his first message. Mr. Orby Frimmely, under the impression that the ladies have disappeared from the scene, descends in his lounging coat, and breakfasts alone. After this he lights a cigar, and makes himself useful in the conservatory.