_There is another short pause. By this it is twilight, faces can be plainly seen._ SARAH. Listen . . . the first bird. MR. TATTON. Oh, dear no, they begin to sing long before this. CARNABY. What is it now . . . a lark? MR. TATTON. I don't know. ANN. [_Quietly to_ SARAH.] That's a thrush. SARAH. [_Capping her._] A thrush. CARNABY. Charming! MR. TATTON. [__ LORD JOHN.] I don't see why you couldn't have told me how it was that she screamed. CARNABY. Our dear Tatton! [_Sotto voce to his son._] Hold your tongue, George. MR. TATTON. I did bar toads and you said I didn't, and anyway I had a sort of right to know. LORD JOHN. You know now. SARAH. I wonder if this seat is dry. LORD JOHN. There's been no rain for weeks. SARAH. The roads will be dusty for you, Mr. Tat. MR. TATTON. Just one moment. You don't mind me, Miss Ann, do you? ANN. I don't mind much. MR. TATTON. We said distinctly . . . To the orchard end of the garden and back and if frightened--that's the word--so much as to scream . . . ! Now, what I want to know is. . . LORD JOHN. Consider the bet off. MR. TATTON. Certainly not. And we should have added. . . Alone. CARNABY. Tatton has persistence. SARAH. Mr. Tat, do you know where people go who take things seriously? MR. TATTON. Miss Leete, were you frightened when Lord John kissed you? GEORGE. Damnation! CARNABY. My excellent Tatton, much as I admire your searchings after truth I must here parentally intervene, regretting, my dear Tatton, that my own carelessness of duennahood has permitted this--this . . . to occur. _After this, there is silence for a minute._ LORD JOHN. Can I borrow a horse of you, Mr. Leete? CARNABY. My entire stable; and your Ronald shall be physicked. SARAH. Spartans that you are to be riding! LORD JOHN. I prefer it to a jolting chaise. MR. TATTON. You will have my mare. LORD JOHN. [_Ignoring him._] This has been a most enjoyable three weeks. CARNABY. Four. LORD JOHN. Is it four? CARNABY. We bow to the compliment. Our duty to his grace. LORD JOHN. When I see him. GEORGE. To our dear cousin. MR. TATTON. [_To_ LADY COTTESHAM.] Sir Charles at Brighton? SARAH. [_Not answering._] To be sure . . . we did discover . . . our mother was second cousin . . . once removed to you. CARNABY. If the prince will be there . . . he is in waiting. LORD JOHN. Any message, Lady Cottesham? . . . since we speak out of session. SARAH. I won't trust you. CARNABY. Or trouble you while I still may frank a letter. But my son-in-law is a wretched correspondent. Do you admire men of small vices? They make admirable husbands though their wives will be grumbling--Silence, Sarah--but that's a good sign. SARAH. Papa is a connoisseur of humanity. ANN. [_To the company as before._] No, Mr. Tatton, I wasn't frightened when Lord John . . . kissed me. I screamed because I was surprised, and I'm sorry I screamed. SARAH. [_Quietly to_ ANN.] My dear Ann, you're a fool.