_Lord F. (aside)._ I wonder if it is the fashion of the house to speak in innuendoes. (_Aloud._) Er! Mrs. Wycherly, I am so new to your ways that I should really like to ask you about one or two questions of etiquette. You know that it differs so in countries, and I never want to seem cold or rude. Now, over here, is it customary for young ladies to say that they want to kiss fellows (_voices outside_) who are no relations of theirs? _Mrs. W._ Why, I never heard— _Enter all, r. d._ HELEN, GEORGE, _and_ STEVEN _cross to l._ ROSE _comes down r. to writing-desk_. DENNIS _and_ AMY _stand at fireplace_. _Amy (to Lord F.)._ Oh, here you are! We’ve all been waiting upstairs for you. _Lord F._ Er, thanks. _Rose._ I hope we are not late, Mrs. Wycherly. _Mrs. W. (going up stage to fireplace)._ Oh, it doesn’t matter in the least. You will simply have grieved Seymour over the dinner. _Rose._ I know I shall grieve him by my appetite. (_Over desk to Lord F._) Why, Lord Ferrol, I am hungry enough to eat you. _Lord F. (half turning)._ Er, thanks, awfully. (_Aside._) Now, what does she mean? _Amy._ Oh, I wouldn’t eat Lord Ferrol, for you can’t eat your cake and have it. (_Coming down center to Lord F._) But I should like to kiss him, if he will let me. _Lord F._ Er, charmed,—if Mrs. Wycherly thinks it proper. _Dennis (seizing paper-knife from desk and rushing down between them)._ This is too much, Parker! You are getting more than your share. (_Turning to Amy._) Avaunt, woman! you have raised the savage in me, and behold the consequences! [_Uses the knife as a scalping knife, and then tears off_ LORD F.’S _wig, revealing a perfectly bald head_. _Lord F._ Gad, sir! what do you mean? _Omnes._ Why, who are you? [AMY _crosses to l. as if bewildered_. _Lord F._ Who am I? _Mrs. W. (with horror)._ You are not really Lord Ferrol? _Lord F._ Who else should I be? [_Pause._ _Amy (sinking faintly into chair)._ And I asked leave to kiss him! _Mrs. W. (coming down to c. and speaking with great anxiety)._ Lord Ferrol, my young people here were each trying to play a joke on the other, and by a horrible coincidence you have been the victim. (_Imploringly._) Will you not try to forgive us now, and let me explain at dinner? [_All come down stage and seem to plead._ _Lord F._ Well, really, if it’s a mistake, of course I can’t cut up rough. (_To Amy._) Then you don’t think I’m a dear love of a snob, eh? _Amy (faintly)._ Oh, no, Lord Ferrol. _Lord F._ And you don’t want to kiss me? _Amy (more faintly)._ No, indeed, Lord Ferrol. _Lord F._ Then, Miss Sherman, I will try to make you do both. _Steven (coming down c.)._ There, didn’t I tell you the real English swells were very jolly, gentlemanly fellows? [_Shakes hands with Ferrol._