MENTEITH (_breaking down_). Mr. George, you've been a damned good master to me, and I've been a damned good servant to you; we've been proud of each other from the first; but if you'll excuse my plainness, Mr. George, I never liked you better than to-day. AUSTIN. Cheer up, old boy, the best is yet to come. Get out the tongs, and curl me like a bridegroom. (_Sits before dressing-glass; MENTEITH produces curling-irons and plies them. AUSTIN sings_)-- "I'd crowns resign To call her mine, Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill!" MUSICAL INDUCTION: The "Minuet" from _Don Giovanni_ ACT III _The Stage represents MISS FOSTER'S lodging as in Act I_ SCENE I _DOROTHY, R., at tambour; ANTHONY, C., bestriding chair; MISS FOSTER, L.C._ ANTHONY. Yes, ma'am, I like my regiment: we are all gentlemen, from old Fred downwards, and all of a good family. Indeed, so are all my friends, except one tailor sort of fellow, Bosbury. But I'm done with him. I assure you, Aunt Evelina, we are Corinthian to the last degree. I wouldn't shock you ladies for the world---- MISS FOSTER. Don't mind me, my dear; go on. ANTHONY. Really, ma'am, you must pardon me: I trust I understand what topics are to be avoided among females--and before my sister, too! A girl of her age! DOROTHY. Why, you dear, silly fellow, I'm old enough to be your mother. ANTHONY. My dear Dolly, you do not understand; you are not a man of the world. But, as I was going on to say, there is no more spicy regiment in the service. MISS FOSTER. I am not surprised that it maintains its old reputation. You know, my dear (_to DOROTHY_), it was George Austin's regiment. DOROTHY. Was it, aunt? ANTHONY. Beau Austin? Yes, it was; and a precious dust they make about him still--a parcel of old frumps! That's why I went to see him. But he's quite extinct: he couldn't be Corinthian if he tried. MISS FOSTER. I am afraid that even at your age George Austin held a very different position from the distinguished Anthony Musgrave. ANTHONY. Come, ma'am, I take that unkindly. Of course I know what you're at: of course the old put cut no end of a dash with the Duchess. MISS FOSTER. My dear child, I was thinking of no such thing; _that_ was immoral. ANTHONY. Then you mean that affair at Brighton: when he cut the Prince about Perdita Robinson. MISS FOSTER. No, I had forgotten it. ANTHONY. O, well, I know--that duel! But look here, Aunt Evelina, I don't think you'd be much gratified after all if I were to be broke for killing my commanding officer about a quarrel at cards. DOROTHY. Nobody asks you, Anthony, to imitate Mr. Austin. I trust you will set yourself a better model. But you may choose a worse. With all his faults, and all his enemies, Mr. Austin is a pattern gentleman. You would not ask a man to be braver, and there are few so generous. I cannot bear to hear him called in fault by one so young. Better judges, dear, are better pleased. ANTHONY. Hey-day! what's this?