PATTY. Well, I can’t stand chattering here any longer—I must go and look after my intended. O’WALKER. By all means; we’ll go and look after your intended. (_opening his umbrella and offering PATTY his arm_) Come along, Patty. PATTY. Certainly not, Mr. O’Walker. B. B.’s so dreadfully jealous, he’d do you some frightful injury to a certainty; that’s one reason—the second is—— O’WALKER. Never mind the second, the first is perfectly satisfactory: though we may be friends, we’re no longer sweethearts. PATTY. Sweethearts, Mr. O’Walker! (_drawing herself up_) O’WALKER. Ah! those were happy days. Greenwich in the morning—— PATTY. Greenwich, Mr. O’Walker! (_horrified_) O’WALKER. Vauxhall in the evening—— PATTY. Vauxhall, Mr. O’Walker! (_horrified_) O’WALKER. And then the polka—the delicious polka! (_polking with his umbrella. Band plays a polka L._) PATTY. The polka, Mr. O’Walker, just as if _I_ ever—— (_looking at O’WALKER dancing and beginning to move her feet about suddenly_) That’s all wrong—bless the man, you never could do it right. (_snatches umbrella from O’WALKER and flings it away—dances the polka with O’WALKER, till seeing BEADLE who appears L. she escapes from O’WALKER and runs off, R._) O’WALKER. (_suddenly_) Good gracious! Dibbs! I quite forgot that scoundrel Dibbs. (_snatches up his umbrella—opens it—starts off towards L. and runs up against BROWN who enters, L._) BROWN. (_advancing to the front and showing his clothes wet through_) Soaked again! O’WALKER. Well, the letters! BROWN. I’ve got ’em; they cost me a pound of cigars, but that’s not worth thinking about. (_showing a packet of cigars_) O’WALKER. Certainly not. (_taking cigars_) Don’t think of ’em again. BROWN. I look upon that as money well laid out. O’WALKER. Decidedly well laid out! (_putting the cigars into his blue bag_) Now for the letters. BROWN. (_producing letters tied up_) Here they are. To my surprise she gave them up without the slightest hesitation, and said she was very much obliged to me for taking the rubbish away. O’WALKER. Rubbish! Ha, ha! (_forcing a laugh_) BROWN. Yes; it seems she has been for some time past pestered with letters from a contemptible fellow with the vulgar name of O’Walker. O’WALKER. Ha, ha, ha! (_aside_) This is pleasant! BROWN. Yes; he signs himself “John Horatio O’Walker,” and she requested me as a particular favour to find Walker out at once, and give Walker a horsewhipping on her account as well as my own. O’WALKER. Ah, ah, ah! (_aside_) This is remarkably agreeable. BROWN. I said I would, and so I will. Take me to him. I’m sorry for your friend’s intimate friend’s friend, but I’ve a duty to perform; and that duty, as I said before, is instantly to sweep O’Walker off the surface of the earth! So come along. _Enter MRS. JELLICOE, L., with BEADLE following_.