_Horeh._ The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming of hage of the _wrong heir_. (_Sensation--i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg to the other, and murmur feebly._) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years ago--(_slow music_)--I was in your Lordship's service as gamekeeper, 'ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame day, and my hold woman was selected to hact as foster-mother to the youthful lord. Well--(_tells a long, and not entirely original, story; marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green and magenta bows, &c., &c._) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at a moment's notice---- _The Earl_ (_haughtily_). I did, upon discovering that you were in the habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within your umbrella. But proceed with your narration. _Horeh._ I swore to be avenged, and so--(_common form again; the shifted bows_)--consequently, as a moment's reflection will convince you, the young man on the steps, in the button-'ole and tall 'at, is my lawful son, while the real Viscount is--(_presenting_ COLTSFOOT, _who advances modestly on his hands_)--'ere! [_Renewed sensation._ _The Earl._ This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (_To_ Lord B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent imposition--a gilded _lie_? _Lord B._ Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my best excuse! _The E._ Nothing can excuse the fact that you--you, a low-born son of the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education, which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. (_To_ COLTSFOOT.) Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for these years of injustice and neglect! _Coltsf._ Well, Guv'nor, if you could send out for a pot o' four arf, it 'ud be a _beginning_, like. _The E._ You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first remove that incongruous garb. _Colts_, (_to_ Lord B.). These 'ere togs belong to _you_ now, young feller, and I reckon exchange ain't no robbery. _Lord B._ (_with emotion, to_ Countess). Mother, can you endure to behold your son in tights and spangles on the very day of his majority? _Countess_ (_coldly_). On the contrary, it is my wish to see him attired as soon as possible, in a more appropriate costume. _Lord B._ (_to_ Lady R.). ROSE, _you_, at least, have not changed? Tell me you will love me still--even on the precarious summit of an acrobat's pole! _Lady Rose_ (_scornfully_). Really the presumptuous familiarity of the lower orders is perfectly appalling! _The Earl_ (_to_ Countess, _as_ Lord B. _and_ COLTSFOOT _retire to exchange costumes_). At last, PAULINE, I understand why I could never feel towards BULLSAYE the affection of a parent. Often have I reproached myself for a coldness I could not overcome.