Pray sit down! [SIR JULIAN resumes his seat and plays a plaintive melody. MRS. GAYLUSTRE listens in a rapt attitude.] LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART. [To BROOKE.] That person is _too_ odious to me. BROOKE TWOMBLEY. Several people have taken her up. LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART. Somehow, being taken up is what she suggests. BROOKE TWOMBLEY. She seems a sort of society mermaid--half a lady and half a milliner--what? Only it bothers you to know where the one leaves off and the other begins. Who is she? LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART. In prehistoric days she was a Miss Lebanon. Lord Bulpitt's son, Percy Gaylustre, met her at Nice--or somewhere. BROOKE TWOMBLEY. Oh, yes, and he married her--or something. LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART. Yes, and now she's a widow--or something. BROOKE TWOMBLEY. Why does the Mater encourage her? LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART. Because Aunt Kate is _too_ good-hearted and impressionable. But, as a rule, I think Mrs. Gaylustre makes a considerable reduction to those who ask her to their parties. [MRS. GAYLUSTRE is bending over SIR JULIAN and turning his music.] Look! [PROBYN appears at the entrance.] PROBYN. Here's Sir Julian, my lady. BROOKE TWOMBLEY. Hullo, Mater! [LADY TWOMBLEY, a handsome, bright, good-humoured woman, dressed magnificently in Court dress, enters. PROBYN retires, and SIR JULIAN stops playing.] LADY TWOMBLEY. [Kissing BROOKE.] Well, Brooke, darling, have you wanted your mother? [Kissing LADY EUPHEMIA.] Effie, how sweet you look! what a dream of a bonnet! [Nods to MRS. GAYLUSTRE.] How d'ye do, Mrs. Gaylustre? Why, pa! [She bends over him and kisses him.] You're worried--you've been playing your whistle. SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY. Flute, Katherine. LADY TWOMBLEY. I mean flute. It was my brother Bob who always played a whistle when the crops were poor or the lambs fell sickly. SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY. I had not the advantage of your brother Robert's acquaintance. LADY TWOMBLEY. Where's Imogen? Imogen! IMOGEN. [Outside.] Mamma! LADY TWOMBLEY. Come and show yourself to pa. [IMOGEN enters in her Court dress, a pretty girl of about eighteen.] IMOGEN. Effie, dear! Well, Brooke! LADY TWOMBLEY. [To SIR JULIAN.] Look at her! SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY. Quite charming! IMOGEN. Well, papa, have you nothing to say to me? SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY. My dear, I hesitate to address such a magnificent creature. IMOGEN. [Bowing to SIR JULIAN.] Mamma, I think that gentleman wishes to be presented to me. I have no objection, if you consider him a person I ought to know. LADY TWOMBLEY. [Kissing IMOGEN.] Ah, Julian, our sweet child! SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY. [Taking IMOGEN's hand.] My dear. IMOGEN. [With dignity.] I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I've heard you mentioned very kindly by my little friend, Imogen Twombley. Pray sit down, and I'll sit on your lap. [IMOGEN sits on SIR JULIAN's knee and puts her arm round his neck.] Oh, papa, I have been so nervous! MRS. GAYLUSTRE.