Miss T. 'Sure I don't care. I'm not afraid of Captain Gadsby. In proof of this swings into the drawing-room with a mannish stride followed by two short steps, which Produces the effect of a restive horse entering. Misses CAPTAIN GADSBY, who is sitting in the shadow of the window-curtain, and gazes round helplessly. CAPTAIN GADSBY. (Aside.) The filly, by Jove! 'Must ha' picked up that action from the sire. (Aloud, rising.) Good evening, Miss Threegan. Miss T. (Conscious that she is flushing.) Good evening, Captain Gadsby. Mamma told me to say that she will be ready in a few minutes. Won't you have some tea? (Aside.) I hope Mamma will be quick. What am I to say to the creature? (Aloud and abruptly.) Milk and sugar? CAPT. G. No sugar, tha-anks, and very little milk. Ha--Hmmm. Miss T. (Aside.) If he's going to do that, I'm lost. I shall laugh. I know I shall! CAPT. G. (Pulling at his moustache and watching it sideways down his nose.) Ha--Hamm. (Aside.) 'Wonder what the little beast can talk about. 'Must make a shot at it. Miss T. (Aside.) Oh, this is agonizing. I must say something. Both Together. Have you Been--CAPT. G. I beg your pardon. You were going to say--Miss T. (Who has been watching the moustache with awed fascination.) Won't you have some eggs? CAPT. G. (Looking bewilderedly at the tea-table.) Eggs! (Aside.) O Hades! She must have a nursery-tea at this hour. S'pose they've wiped her mouth and sent her to me while the Mother is getting on her duds. (Aloud.) No, thanks. Miss T. (Crimson with confusion.) Oh! I didn't mean that. I wasn't thinking of mou--eggs for an instant. I mean salt. Won't you have some sa--sweets? (Aside.) He'll think me a raving lunatic. I wish Mamma would come. CAPT. G. (Aside.) It was a nursery-tea and she's ashamed of it. By Jove! She doesn't look half bad when she colors up like that. (Aloud, helping himself from the dish.) Have you seen those new chocolates at Peliti's? Miss T. No, I made these myself. What are they like? CAPT. G. These! De-licious. (Aside.) And that's a fact. Miss T. (Aside.) Oh, bother! he'll think I'm fishing for compliments. (Aloud.) No, Peliti's of course. CAPT. G. (Enthusiastically.) Not to compare with these. How d'you make them? I can't get my khansamah to understand the simplest thing beyond mutton and fowl. Miss T. Yes? I'm not a khansamah, you know. Perhaps you frighten him. You should never frighten a servant. He loses his head. It's very bad policy. CAPT. G. He's so awf'ly stupid. Miss T. (Folding her hands in her Zap.) You should call him quietly and say: “O khansamah jee!” CAPT. G. (Getting interested.) Yes? (Aside.) Fancy that little featherweight saying, “O khansamah jee” to my bloodthirsty Mir Khan! Miss T Then you should explain the dinner, dish by dish. CAPT. G. But I can't speak the vernacular. Miss T. (Patronizingly.) You should pass the Higher Standard and try. CAPT. G. I have, but I don't seem to be any the wiser. Are you?