_Culch._ (_to himself_). Now that's coarse--_really_ coarse!--(_Aloud._)--I seem to be unable to open my mouth now without some ridiculous distortion-- _Miss T._ My!--but that's a serious symptom--isn't it? You don't feel like you were going to have lock-jaw, do you, Mr. CULCHARD? [_CULCHARD falls back to the rear once more. Later--Mr. VAN BOODELER has joined the party; HYPATIA has contrived to detach her brother, CULCHARD has sought refuge with PODBURY._ _Miss T._ (_to VAN B._). So that's what kept you? "Well, it sounds just too enchanting. But I cann't answer for what Miss PRENDERGAST will say to it. It mayn't suit her notions of propriety. _Mr. Van B._ I expect she'll be superior to Britannic prejudices of that kind. I consider your friend a highly cultivated and charming lady, MAUD. She produces that impression upon me. _Miss T._ I presume, from that, she has shown an intelligent interest in the great American novel? _Mr. Van B._ Why, yes; it enlists her literary sympathies--she sees all its possibilities. _Miss T._ And they're pretty numerous, too. But here she comes. You'd better tell her your plan right now. _Miss P._ (_in an earnest undertone to BOB, as they approach, followed by CULCH. and BOB_). You _must_ try and be sensible about it, BOB; if _you_ are too blind to see that she is only-- BOB (_sulkily_). All _right_! Haven't I _said_ I'd go? What's the good of _jawing_ about it? _Mr. V.B._ (_to Miss P._) I've been telling my cousin I've been organising a little water-party for this evening--moonlight, mandolins, Menaggio. If you find that alliteration has any attractions, I hope you and your brother will do me the pleasure of-- _Miss P._ I'm afraid not, thanks. We have all our packing to do. We find we shall have to leave early to-morrow. [_Van B.'s face falls; BOB listens gloomily to_ Miss T.'s rather perfunctory expressions of regret; PODBURY looks anxious and undecided; CULCHARD does his best to control an unseemly joy._ * * * * * THE GOOD NEW "TIMES." Nobody, after visiting Terry's Theatre, can apply to Mr. PINERO's piece the hackneyed phrase,--used apologetically by an unconscionable reader after detaining the leading journal for three-quarters of an hour,--"Oh, there's nothing in _The Times_," for, in Mr. PINERO's piece there is plenty of amusement, if not of absorbing interest. [Illustration]