Pull yourself together, man! [_He twists RAPKIN sharply round._] Come, a little cold water on your head will soon bring you round. RAPKIN. I'm _comin_' round. Don't see s'many arches already! MRS. RAPKIN. [_Rushing in from arch on right of centre arch._] Oh, William, William! Come away at once! RAPKIN. [_Peacefully._] I'm aw'ri, M'rire! MRS. RAPKIN. [_Seeing HORACE'S costume._] Oh, Mr. Ventimore, who's been and dressed you up like that? Why, it's 'ardly Christian! [_To RAPKIN._] Come away out of this 'orrible 'ouse, do! RAPKIN. What's 'orrible about it? MRS. RAPKIN. Everything! Can't you see it's all turned into Arabian 'alls? RAPKIN. _Is_ it? [_He suddenly becomes indignant._] 'Oo's bin and took sech a liberty? MRS. RAPKIN. Ah, you may well ask! Oh, Mr. Ventimore. [_Crossing to HORACE._] You've a deal to answer for, _you_ 'ave! RAPKIN. What? _'Im?_ _'E's_ done it all? HORACE. Mrs. Rapkin, don't _you_ lose your head! I depend on _you_, you know. Get your husband away and make him sober--or the dinner's _bound_ to come to grief! MRS. RAPKIN. Dinner indeed! And me unable to get into my own kitching for them nasty niggers o' yours as is swarmin' there like beedles! The gell's bolted already, and you and me'll go next, William, for stay under this roof with sech I _won't_! [_She drags RAPKIN by the arm to arch up on right._ HORACE. I say, Mr. Rapkin, don't you two desert me now! Just _think_ of the hole I'm in! MRS. RAPKIN. Bein' a 'ole of your own makin', sir, you can get out of it yourself! Come, William! RAPKIN. I'm comin', M'rire! [_As he is dragged through arch by MRS. RAPKIN._] You'll 'ear _more_ o' this, Mr. Ventimore! HORACE. [_Alone on stage._] What's to be done now? Can't dine _here_! [_The front door bell rings with a long jangling tingle._] There they are! What am I to _do_ with 'em? It'll _have_ to be the Carlton, after all! [_He glances down at his robes._] Can't go like _this_, though! [_He tries to take off his turban._] This damned thing won't come off! [_Searching himself for money._] And where are my pockets? [_With resigned despair._] Well, I suppose I must let them in, and--and tell 'em how it is!