_Steven._ Because she’s steaming the tea? _Dennis._ No. _Amy._ Don’t keep us in suspense. _Steven._ Because she’s full of tease. _George._ You make me tired. _Steven._ Is that why you sat down so often on the ice? _Helen._ Isn’t that just like George,—sitting round, while the rest do the work. _George._ If you think there’s any particular pleasure in sitting in a snowdrift, there’s one outside, right against the verandah. _Steven._ That would never do at present. It might result in a cold, and so destroy our little plan of winning the maiden affections of—well, I won’t give him a name till I have seen him! _Helen._ It is hard to put up with foreign titles, but as long as our government will not protect that industry, the home product is so rude, _boorish_, VULGAR, and YOUNG, that we cannot help— _Rose (interrupting)._ Listen! (_Pause._) There’s the carriage. [_All rise and start toward r. door._ _Mrs. W. (rising and intercepting them at door)._ Now, don’t all come running out to frighten the poor man. (_Men return to fireplace; girls reseat themselves._) Let his first greeting be with me, and then I will bring him in and let him see you and get a cup of tea. [_Exit r._ _Dennis (stalking down stage)._ Fe, Fo, Fi, Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman; Be he alive, or be he dead, I’ll grind his bones to make me bread. _Rose (pointing at Dennis)._ Ping Wing, the pieman’s son, Was the very worst boy in all Canton, He stole his mother’s— _Mrs. W. (outside)._ No, I’m sure— _Enter_ MRS. W. _and_ LORD F. _(in goggles and wig) r. d. and come down c._ _Mrs. W._ You are chilled by your ride, so you must have a cup of tea before going to your room. Helen, this is Lord Ferrol. My daughter, Miss Wycherly, Miss Newcome, Miss Sherman, Lord Ferrol—. _Lord F. (bowing)._ Charmed, I assure you! _Mrs. W._ My nephews, Mr. George and Steven Harold, and Mr. Grant. There! the formidable host is reviewed, and you can now make yourself as comfortable as possible. _Lord F._ Er, thanks, but if you will allow me, I will go to my room first,—I am so filthy. _Mrs. W._ Oh, but you really must have tea first. _Lord F._ You’re awfully good, I’m sure. Er, will you pardon my glasses, but I burned my eyes shooting alligators, and, er! that was why I couldn’t make a more positive date, for I was in the hands of an oculist. _Amy (aside)._ Oh! Jack, what a lie! _Steven (aside)._ Didn’t I tell you the old fellow would come out strong? I shouldn’t know him myself? _Amy (rising from easy-chair l.)._ Here, Lord Ferrol, I have been sitting in the easiest chair to prevent the others from taking it, so that you should have it when you came. _Lord F._ Er, thanks, awfully!