SCENE I.--_Breakfast-room at No. 92a, Porchester Square, Bayswater. Rhubarb-green and gilt paper, with dark olive dado: curtains of a nondescript brown. Black marble clock on grey granite mantelpiece; Landseer engravings; tall book-case, containing volumes of "The Quiver," "Mission-Work in Mesopotamia," a cheap Encyclopedia, and the "Popular History of Europe." Time, about 9:45._ Mr. MONTAGUE TIDMARSH _is leaving to catch his omnibus_. Mrs. T. _is at her Davenport in the window_. _Mr. T._ (_from the door_). Anything else you want me to do, MARIA? _Mrs. T._ Don't forget the turbot--and mind you choose it yourself--and the lobster for the sauce--oh, and look in at SEAKALE'S as you pass, and remind him to be here punctually at seven, to help JANE with the table, and say I insist on his waiting in _clean_ white gloves; and be home early yourself, and--there, if he hasn't rushed off before I remembered half----(Mr. T. _re-appears at the door_.) What is it _now_, MONTAGUE? I do wish you'd start, and have done with it, instead of keeping JANE at the front door, when she ought to be clearing away breakfast! _Mr. T._ Very sorry, my love--I was just going, when I met a Telegraph-boy with this, for you, I hope there's nothing wrong with Uncle GABRIEL, I'm sure. _Mrs. T._ Don't stand there holding it--give it to me. (_She opens it._) "Regret impossible dine to-night--lost Great Aunt very suddenly.--BUCKRAM." How provoking of the man! And I particularly wished him to meet Uncle GABRIEL, because he is such a good listener, and they would be sure to get on together. As if he hadn't all the rest of the year to lose his Aunt in! _Mr. T._ That's BUCKRAM all over. Never can depend upon that fellow. (_Gloomily._) Now we shall be thirteen at table! _Mrs. T._ Nonsense, MONTAGUE--we _can't_ be! Let me see--Uncle GABRIEL and Aunt JOANNA, two; the DITCHWATERS, four; BODFISHES, six; TOOMERS, eight; Miss BUGLE, nine; Mr. POFFLEY, ten; CECILIA FLINDERS, eleven, ourselves--we _are_ thirteen! And I know Uncle will refuse to sit down at all if he notices it; and, anyway, it is sure to cast a gloom over the whole thing. We _must_ get somebody! _Mr. T._ Couldn't that Miss--what's her name? SEATON--dine, for once? _Mrs. T._ The idea, MONTAGUE! Then there would be one Lady too many--if you can _call_ a Governess a Lady, that is. And I do so disapprove of taking people out of their proper station. [Illustration: "Montague, _don't_ say you went and ordered him."] _Mr. T._ I might wire to FILLETER or MAKEWAYT--but I rather think they're both away, and it won't do to run any risk. Shall I bring home STERNSTUHL or FEDERFUCHS? Very quiet, respectable young fellows, and I could let one of 'em go off early to dress.