_On the Grand Canal. 9 P.M. A brilliant moonlight night; a music-barge, hung with coloured lanterns, is moving slowly up towards the Rialto, surrounded and followed by a fleet of gondolas, amongst which is one containing the TROTTERS and CULCHARD. CULCHARD has just discovered--with an embarrassment not wholly devoid of a certain excitement--that they are drawing up to a gondola occupied by the PRENDERGASTS and PODBURY._ _Mr. Trotter_ (_meditatively_). It's real romantic. That's the third deceased kitten I've seen to-night. They haven't only a two-foot tide in the Adriatic, and it stands to reason all the sewage-- [_The two gondolas are jammed close alongside._ _Miss P._ How absolutely magical those palaces look in the moonlight! BOB, how _can_ you yawn like that? _Bob_. I beg your pardon, 'PATIA, really, but we've had rather a long day of it, you know! _Mr. T._ Well, now, I declare I sort of recognised those voices! (_Heartily._) Why, how are _you_ getting along in Vernis? _We_'re gettin' along fust-rate. Say, MAUD, here's your friend alongside! [_Miss P. preserves a stony silence._ _Miss T._ (_in an undertone_). I don't see how you _can_ act so, Poppa--when you know she's just as _mad_ with me! _Mr. T._ There! Electrocuted if I didn't clean forget you were out! But, see here, now--why cann't we let bygones be bygones? _Bob_. (_impulsively_). Just what _I_ think, Mr. TROTTER, and I'm sure my sister will-- _Miss P._ BOB, will you kindly not make the situation more awkward than it is? If I desired a reconciliation, I think I am quite capable of saying so! _Miss T._ (_in confidence to the Moon_). This Ark isn't proposing to send out any old dove, either--we've no use for an olive-branch. (_To_ Mr. T.) That's "_Santa Lucia_" they're singing now, Poppa. _Mr. T._ They don't appear to me to get the twist on it they did at Bellagio! _Miss T._ You mean that night CHARLEY took us out on the Lake? Poor CHARLEY! he'd just love to be here--he's ever so much artistic feeling! _Mr. T._ Well, I don't see why he couldn't have come along if he'd wanted. _Miss T._ (_with a glance at her neighbour_). I presume he'd reasons enough. He's a vurry cautious man. Likely he was afraid he'd get bitten. _Miss P._ (_after a swift scrutiny of Miss T.'s features_). Oh, BOB, remind me to get some more of that mosquito stuff. I _should_ so hate to be bitten--such a _dreadful_ disfigurement! _Miss T._ (_to the Moon_). I declare if I don't believe I can feel some creature trying to sting me now! _Miss P._ Some people are hardly recognisable, BOB, and they say the marks never _quite_ disappear!