CAPT. T. (_Looking on ground._) I fear I’ve lost it now. COQ. Your heart? CAPT. P. My glove. (_Loud sneezing from cupboard._) What’s that? COQ. The ginger beer has burst a bottle. CAPT. P. It sounded vewy like a human thwottle! (_Rap heard at door._) COQ. Ah, here’s mamma! quick, hide in this, now, see! (_Puts him into barrel. Business._) To-morrow meet me by the haunted tree. (_Throws cloth over top of barrel._) I’ll have such fun to-morrow for an hour. CAPT. P. (_Rising._) Look here, I say, this bawwel’s full of flour! (_She runs to him, forces him back and puts coverlet on again. Rap again. She goes to door and opens it._) (_Enter ROOSTER THE AUDACIOUS, a big bundle of papers tied with red tape, under his arm._) ROOS. Miss Coquettina, is your Ma’ within? (_Pulls out enormous watch from fob pocket._) I’ve twenty minutes left to woo and win. COQ. To woo and win! Upon my word that’s funny! ROOSTER. Business is business, Miss, and time is money. All night I sat up on affairs of State. I had to shave the King at half-past eight. At nine to black his boots and brush his hair. By ten, as President, I took the chair Of the Society for Reforming Cats— R. S. R. C. At twelve I sat on “Hats.” COQ. Hats! ROOS. Yes, and hatters, ’twas a much _felt_ question. At one I had some lunch, and—indigestion. At two I had to meet a deputation— “Was it, or was it not, good for the nation That folks should be allowed beef with their mustard,” It was a serious matter. COQ. Were you flustered? ROOS. Oh, not at all, I said—If they could get it. At two ’twas going on. COQ. So’s time. ROOS. Well, let it! Till eight—three meetings; a foundation stone. Then dressed the King for dinner; had my own. Came here to pop the question—Will you wed? I must get back to put the King to bed. Say yes or no. COQ. You’d better ask mamma. (_Rap at door._) Not now! Some other time! ROOS. Yes! Now! COQ. No! ROOS. Bah! COQ. She may be angry. Get beneath the table. Please. To oblige me. (_loud rap._) ROOS. Well, if I am able. (_Gets under table._) I must confess I feel how ill you treat me. COQ. To-morrow, by the haunted tree you’ll meet me. (_Goes to door and open it. Enter G. KING. She curtseys. He chucks her under chin._)