LUGG. That _is_ our two. Don't notice them--they're hystericals. They're mild now to what they have been. I say, old fellow--is your guv'nor all right in his head? WYKE. I suppose so--why? LUGG. I've a partickler reason for asking. Does he ever tell you to buy him anything and keep the change? WYKE. What d'yer mean? LUGG. Well, does he ever come down handsome for your extry exertion--do you ever get any tips? WYKE. Rather. What do you think he made me a present of last night? LUGG. Don't know. WYKE. Twopence--to buy a new umbrella. LUGG. Well, I'm blessed! And he gave me the same sum to get him a silk necktie. It's my opinion he's got a softening of the brain. [_Another shriek from the two women, a cry from MR. POSKET, and then a hubbub are heard. Running up to the curtains and looking through._] Hallo! what's wrong? Here! I told you so--he's broken out, he's broken out. WYKE. Who's broken out? LUGG. The lunatic. Keep back, I'm wanted. [_He goes through the curtains._ WYKE. [_Looking after him._] Look at the guv'nor waving his arms and going on anyhow at the prisoners! Prisoners! Gracious goodness--it's the missis! [_Amid a confused sound of voices MR. POSKET is brought in, through the curtains, by MR. WORMINGTON. LUGG follows._ MR. POSKET. Wormington! Wormington! the two ladies! the two ladies! I know them! MR. WORMINGTON. It's all right, sir, it's all right--don't be upset, sir! MR. POSKET. I'm not well; what shall I do? MR. WORMINGTON. Nothing further, sir. What you have done is quite in form. MR. POSKET. What I _have_ done? MR. WORMINGTON. Yes, sir--you did precisely what I suggested--took the words from me. They pleaded guilty. MR. POSKET. Guilty! MR. WORMINGTON. Yes, sir--and you sentenced them. MR. POSKET. Sentenced them! The ladies! MR. WORMINGTON. Yes, sir. You've given them seven days, without the option of a fine. [_MR. POSKET collapses into MR. WORMINGTON'S arms._ THE SECOND SCENE. _The scene changes to MR. POSKET'S drawing-room, as in the first act._ _BEATIE enters timidly, dressed in simple walking-costume._ BEATIE. How dreadfully early. Eleven o'clock, and I'm not supposed to come till four. I wonder why I want to instruct Cis all day. I'm not nearly so enthusiastic about the two little girls I teach in Russell Square. _POPHAM enters. Her eyes are red as if from crying._ POPHAM. [_Drawing back on seeing BEATIE._] That music person again. I beg your pardon--I ain't got no instructions to prepare no drawing-room for no lessons till four o'clock. BEATIE. I wish to see Mrs. Posket. POPHAM. She hasn't come home. BEATIE. Oh then--er--um--Master Farringdon will do. POPHAM. [_In tears._] He haven't come home either! BEATIE. Oh, where is he? POPHAM. No one knows! His wicked old stepfather took him out late last night and hasn't returned him. Such a night as it was, too, and him still wearing his summer under-vests. BEATIE. Mr. Posket? POPHAM. Mr. Posket--no, my Cis!