_Charlie._ Mither Thuart, did you ever hear anything more nonthenthical than for Van Tromp to thuppothe that Mith Wortley ith going to thave him from the poorhouth? _Reg. (with dignity)._ Mr. Stuart will tell you that a born gentleman can do much that is impossible to the canaille. _Charlie (angrily)._ What do you mean by that, thir? _Reg._ Pway dwaw your own conclusions. _Stuart (sitting on desk)._ And so you two bloods intend to question the oracle? I hadn’t credited you with the courage. _Charlie._ It dothn’t need much when one knowth what the anther will be. _Reg. (confidently)._ I’m not afwaid for my part, but even “no” wouldn’t make me commit suicide. _Charlie._ Thath prethuth fortunate for you, but hard on the reth of uth. _Stuart (quizzically)._ Oh, it’s easy enough to propose to a girl when she isn’t present. You fellows forget that Miss Wortley is a masked battery this evening. It takes pluck to face one of them, and I don’t believe you’ll either of you dare do it. _Charlie._ I’d like to bet a monkey I will. _Stuart._ Done! And do the same with you, Van Tromp. _Charlie._ He hathn’t the money. _Reg. (glancing scornfully at Charlie)._ You’ll oblige me gweatly by minding your own affairs. Done, Mr. Stuart. _Enter_ FRED _b. d._ _Stuart._ Ah, Fred, you’ve just missed a rare bit of sport. _Fred._ What was that? _Stuart._ Why, we’ve just wagered— _Reg. (dignified)._ I beg pawdon, Mr. Stuart, but I had always supposed a wager was a confidential mattah. [_Walks with dignity up r. and exits b. d._ _Charlie._ For onth in hith life, Van Tromp ith right. [_Bows grandly and goes up l. Exits b. d._ _Stuart (laughing)._ I thought that would get rid of them. Well, have you shown Miss Wortley that you can still be occasionally jolly? _Fred (gloomily)._ I haven’t had the chance. She must be in her room, for I’ve looked everywhere else for her. Not that it’s much loss. I know I should not have been in the mood to please her. _Stuart._ That’s because you don’t try hard enough. _Fred (bitterly)._ Hear the bachelor talk of making love! _Stuart._ You think me ignorant? _Fred._ Rather,—judging from the results. _Stuart (resting hand on Fred’s shoulder)._ Fred, I’m not the kind of a man who lets the world know what he’s thinking about. With all due respect to a young fellow who is not far distant, it doesn’t pay to show one’s feelings too much. But I’m going to tell you my bit of romance as an object-lesson. Two months ago I met the most charming woman in the world, and could no more help falling in love— _Fred (looking up in surprise)._ What! The ideal bachelor in love? _Stuart._ I don’t see why two and forty should be debarred from that universal sensation, any more than four and twenty. _Fred._ Oh, of course not,—only, to make an Irish bull, we had all grown to think you as wedded to celibacy.