Good. Look here. Smythe is giving her a bit of supper in the foyer after the show, a dance on the stage to follow. About five-and-twenty people. 'Ull you come? FARNCOMBE. If Mr. Smythe is kind enough to ask me---- ROPER. He _does_ ask you, through me. He's left all the arrangements to me and Morrie Cooling. Carlton never did anything in his life; _I_ egged him on to this. I've been sweating at it since eleven o'clock this morning. Haven't been near the City; not near it. Well? FARNCOMBE. [_His eyes glowing._] I shall be delighted. ROPER. Splendid. Been trying to get on to you all day. I've called twice at your club and at St. James's Place. FARNCOMBE. Sorry you've had so much trouble. ROPER. [_Dropping on to the settee in front of the writing-table and wiping his brow._] There'll be the Baron, Sam de Castro, Bertie Fulkerson, Stew Heneage, Jerry Grimwood, Dwarf Kennedy, Colonel and Mrs. Stidulph-- Dolly Ensor that was-- and ourselves, besides Cooling and Vincent Bland and the pick o' the Company. Catani does the food and drink. I don't believe I've forgotten a single thing. [_With a change of tone, pointing to the arm-chair in the middle of the room._] Sit down a minute. [_FARNCOMBE sits and ROPER edges nearer to him._] Are you going to wait to see Lily this afternoon? FARNCOMBE. I-- I should like to. ROPER. Because if Jeyes should happen to drop in while you're here---- FARNCOMBE. Captain Jeyes? ROPER. Nicko Jeyes-- or if you knock up against him to-night at the theatre-- mum about this. FARNCOMBE. About the supper? ROPER. [_Nodding._] Um. We don't want Nicko Jeyes; we simply don't want him. And if he heard that you and some of the boys are coming, he might wonder why _he_ isn't included. FARNCOMBE. He strikes me as being rather a surly, ill-conditioned person. ROPER. A regular loafer. FARNCOMBE. He appears to live at Catani's. I never go there without meeting him. ROPER. Exactly. Catani's and a top, back bedroom in Jermyn Street, and hanging about the Pandora; that's Nicko Jeyes's life. FARNCOMBE. _He's_ an old friend of Mrs. Upjohn's and Miss Parradell's too, isn't he? ROPER. [_Evasively._] Known 'em some time. That's _it_; Lily's so faithful to her old friends. FARNCOMBE. [_Smiling._] _You_ oughtn't to complain of that. ROPER. Oh, but I'm a _real_ friend. I've always been a patron of the musical drama-- it's my fad; and I've kept an eye on Lily from the moment she sprang into prominence-- [_singing_] "Mind the paint! Mind the paint!" --looked after her like a father. Uncle Lal she calls me. [_Reassuringly._] I'm a married man, you know; [_FARNCOMBE nods_] but the wife has plenty to occupy her with the kids and she leaves the drama to me. She prefers Bexhill. [_Leaning forward and speaking with great earnestness._] Farncombe, what a charming creature! FARNCOMBE. [_Innocently._] Mrs. Roper? ROPER.