[_NOKES, SPONGE, and ROBINSON roar with laughter._] _Rasper [aside]._ Confound that Nokes! He must have told her about my family. [_With indignation_] Madam, I--[_Points by accident to the portfolio._] _Susan._ What? you weesh to see mai sketch? Oh, yas! [_Opens the portfolio; the three guests crowd round it. Nokes comes down to the front._] _Nokes [aside]._ I wish they'd take their lunch and go away. They put me in a profuse perspiration. I know they'll find her out. _Robinson [with a sketch-book in his hand]._ Beautiful! _Sponge [looking over his shoulder on tiptoe]._ Exquisite! most lovely! it's what I call perfection. _Rasper._ First-rate--only I've seen something like it before. [_Aside_] If I haven't seen that in some print-shop. I'll be hanged. [_Blows._] _Susan._ Ha! ha! you halve seen eet beefore, Mr.--_Gasper_? Think of that, my husband,--Mr. Gasper has seen it beefore! _Nokes [laughing uncomfortably]._ Ha! ha! What a funny idea! _Rasper [obstinately]._ But I _have_, though; and in a shop-window, too. _Susan [delightedly]._ That is superbe, magnifique! I am so happy, _so_ proud! My husband, they have copied this leetle work of mine in London! [_ROBINSON and SPONGE clap their hands applaudingly._] _Rasper [shakes his head; aside]._ Dashed if I don't believe it's a chromolithograph! [_To Nokes_] I say, Nokes, you wrote to us in such raptures about your wife's hands. Why does she keep her gloves on? _Nokes [confused]._ Keep her gloves on? You mean why does she wear them in-doors? Well, the fact is, the Montmorencis always do it. It's been a family peculiarity for centuries,--like the Banshee. And, besides, she does it to keep her hands delicate: they're just like roses--I mean _white_ roses,--if you could only see 'em. But then she always wears gloves. _Rasper [grunts disapproval]._ Then I suppose it's no use asking her to give us a tune on the piano? _Nokes [hastily]._ Not a bit, not a bit; of course not; and, besides, we shall have lunch directly. _Susan [approaching them]._ What is dat, Mr. Gasper? Did you not ask for a leetle music? What you like for me to play? _Nokes [aside to Susan]._ How can you be such a fool? Why, this is suicide! [_To Rasper_] My dear fellow, my wife would be delighted, but the fact is the piano is out of order. The tuner is coming to-morrow. _Susan [seats herself at the piano]._ My dear husband, it weel do very well. He only said we must note "thomp, thomp" until he had seen it; dat is all. Now, gentlemens, what would you like? _Sponge [with an armful of music-books]._ Nay, madam, what will you do us the favor to choose? [_Aside_] There is nothing I love so much in this world as turning over the leaves of a music-book for a lady of birth! _Susan._ Ah, I am so sorry, because I do only play by de ear, here [_points to her ear_]. But what would you like, gentlemens? Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, _it is all exactly de same to me_.