“Dear Frank,—We hear you are to come up here on Tuesday. Now, if you want a soft thing pay heed to what I write. We expect a howling English Lord up here the last of the week, and the girls are going to lay themselves out for his benefit, just to spite us poor republicans. Put on goggles, a beard and wig; get a big pattern suit and a leather hat-box, and telegraph Mrs. Wycherly (in the name of Ferrol), that you will arrive on the 5.15 train Tuesday. You will be met, coddled, caressed, etc. etc., till we shall all call you tenderfoot. But a word in your ear! Make yourself rather disagreeable. Dress in the wrong clothes at meals. Use the words ‘nasty’ and ‘beastly’ frequently, and of all things meet the girls more than half-way in their attentions. Your name is George Augustus Guelph Dunstan, Earl of Ferrol and Staunton. Your papa is the Marquess of D-a-c-h-a-n-t (pronounced Jaunt). Your dear mama is no more. You have been in Florida, where you hurt your eyes, and are just from Washington—‘a beastly bore, you know.’ I would give untold gold if I could do it instead of you. “Always yours, Steve.” _Dennis._ I say, boys, we must have a kodak ready for the unveiling, and catch the girls’ faces on the fly. _George_ } (_together, shaking hands and_ _Steven_ } _laughing heartily_). Oh! won’t _Dennis_ } it be rich! _Enter_ ROSE, _r. d._ _Rose (crossing up stage to r.)._ Why, you wretched boys, haven’t you gone up yet? [_Men jump and turn with consternation._ _Steven (concealing letter behind him)._ Why—ah—is it late? _Enter_ HELEN, _r. d., and crosses to tea-table, which she draws back to l._ _Rose._ Late! You’ve just ten minutes to dress. Be quick! Mrs. Wycherly has been stopped in the hall by a telegram, and if she catches you here you’ll never hear the last of it. [_Men exit hurriedly and awkwardly l. d._ _Helen._ Talk of the tardiness of women! _Rose._ I know they’ve been talking about us. Did you see how guilty they looked? [_Crosses to desk._ _Enter_ AMY, _r. d._ _Amy._ After what Mrs. Wycherly said of tardiness, they ought to look guilty. _Rose (seating herself at desk and arranging pens, etc.)._ If they are not late, it’s Seymour’s fault, not theirs. _Helen._ I hope mama won’t wait for them. I have a good mind to tell Seymour to put a lump of ice in the soup. _Amy._ I should rather see those good for nothing, gossiping, over-spoiled men there. [_Rose begins to study blotter with great interest._ _Helen._ They deserve some kind of penance for their behaviour this afternoon. _Amy._ Yes, even in addition to our intended neglect when Lord Ferrol arrives.