[_Comedy love-dialogue omitted owing to want of space._ _Verb._ Oh, do look!--there’s Papa crossing the lawn with, oh, such a horrid man following him! _Lord B._ Regular bounder. Shocking bad hat! _Verb._ Not so bad as his boots, and _they_ are not so bad as his face! Why doesn’t Papa order him to go away? Oh, he is actually inviting him in! _Enter_ Sir POSHBURY, _gloomy and constrained, with_ SPIKER, _who is jaunty, and somewhat over familiar._ _Spiker_ (_sitting on the piano, and dusting his boots with his handkerchief_). Cosy little shanty you’ve got here, Puddock--very tasty! _Sir P._ (_with a gulp_). I am--ha--delighted that you approve of it! Ah, Verbena! [_Kisses her on forehead._ _Spiker._ Your daughter, eh? Pooty gal. Introduce me. [_Sir_ POSH. _introduces him--with an effort._ _Verbena_ (_coldly_). How do you do? Papa, did you know that the sashline of this window was broken? If it is not mended, it will fall on somebody’s head, and perhaps kill him! _Sir P._ (_absently_). Yes--yes, it shall be attended to; but leave us, my child, go. Bleshugh, this--er--gentleman and I have business of importance to discuss. _Spiker._ Don’t let us drive you away, Miss; your Pa and me are only talking over old times, that’s all--eh, Posh? _Sir P._ (_in a tortured aside_). Have a care, Sir, don’t drive me too far! (_To_ VERB.) Leave us, I say. (Lord B. _and_ VERB. _go out, raising their eyebrows._) Now, Sir, what is this secret you profess to have discovered? _Spiker._ Oh, a mere nothing. (_Takes out a cigar._) Got a light about you? Thanks. Perhaps you don’t recollect twenty-seven years ago this very day, travelling from Edgware Road to Baker Street, by the Underground Railway? _Sir P._ Perfectly; it was my thirteenth birthday, and I celebrated the event by a visit to Madame Tussaud’s. [Illustration: Spiker Introduced.] _Spiker._ Exactly; it was your thirteenth birthday, and you travelled second-class with a half-ticket--(_meaningly_)--on your thirteenth birthday. _Sir P._ (_terribly agitated_). Fiend that you are, how came you to learn this? _Spiker._ Very simple. I was at that time in the temporary position of ticket-collector at Baker Street. In the exuberance of boyhood, you cheeked me. I swore to be even with you some day. _Sir P._ Even if--if your accusation were well-founded, how are you going to prove it? _Sp._ Oh, that’s easy! I preserved the half-ticket, on the chance that I should require it as evidence hereafter. _Sir P._ (_aside_). And so the one error of an otherwise blameless boyhood has found me out--at last! (_To_ SPIKER.) I fear you not; my crime--if crime indeed it was--is surely condoned by twenty-seven long years of unimpeachable integrity!