(_Laughs_). Very well. I won't beat you down. You shall have your own terms, and--thank you very much. MRS. BEN DIXON. Not at all. It will be very cheap at the price, I know. (_Crosses L. to Ben Dixon._) Well, I've asked them all down, Ben. MR. BEN DIXON. Yes, I thought you would, my dear. I hope they've all accepted. MRS. BEN DIXON. Oh yes, they're all coming. MR. BEN DIXON. Oh, that _is_ nice. Are you ready to go now, dear, or do you think there might be anybody else about the place you'd like to---- (_Cherry knocks at door. Ted goes up and opens it_.) ADAM CHERRY. May I---- Oh, oh! I beg pardon. I didn't know you had anyone here. I------ (_He is about to retire._) TED MORRIS. Come on in, Mr. Cherry, come on in--the more the merrier. We've got a regular reception on. Aunt, let me introduce you to---- MRS. BEN DIXON. (_She and Cherry, the moment they see each other, stand aghast._) Don't tell me it's Adam Cherry! ADAM CHERRY. It isn't--it isn't Sylvia! MR. BEN DIXON. Certainly not. You are quite right, my dear sir, it is _not_. That lady is buried. MRS. BEN DIXON. Not yet, Ben. Don't you get anticipating history to that extent. MR. BEN DIXON. I mean, my dear, that she is sunk in Mrs. Ben Dixon. MRS. BEN DIXON. Yes, it is a bit of a come down. (_Mr. Ben Dixon, crestfallen, retires to the fire._) Well, I _am_ glad to see you. Why, you don't seem to have altered a day. Bless the man, you look quite young. (_Cherry chuckles and plumes himself. She puts up her glass and examines him_). Until one looks into you a bit. (_He coughs drily_). Well, and what have you been doing with yourself all these years? ADAM CHERRY. Oh, I gave up the stage, you know, when I came into my aunt's money. MRS. BEN DIXON. Um! Well, I think it was a good thing for both of you. You never were much good at it, you know, Adam. ADAM CHERRY. Ah, perhaps not--perhaps not. MRS. BEN DIXON. You never had the legs for it. It's no good saying---- ADAM CHERRY. Legs are not everything. MRS. BEN DIXON. No, but they make a good foundation. Lord, I shall never forget the first night of that burlesque when you played Apollo to my Terps. You wore three pairs of tights, one over the other, and the underneath ones worked up into rucks. (_Cherry laughs uncomfortably._) And the gallery told you to go home and get yourself ironed. (_Laughs._) MR. BEN DIXON. (_Aside to Theodore._) Now we shall have reminiscences of all your step-mother's early life. THEODORE TRAVERS. Ah, well, it might be worse, Ben. It might be your own. ADAM CHERRY. I heard of your second marriage. MRS. BEN DIXON. Ah, yes; bad news travels fast, they say. ADAM CHERRY. (_Looking over at Ben Dixon._) But, you know, somehow or other, I pictured such a different sort of man. MRS. BEN DIXON.