Piff. Well, sir, knowing as I’m your coach, sir, he meant it as a friendly hint. You have rather a countrified walk, if you will forgive me for saying so--a more _négligé_ style is adopted by the _savoir vivre_ now, sir, and a more _insouciant_ manner of carrying the umbrella. You walk too much in this way, sir. (_Taking up umbrella, gags, and imitates._) Allen. Lord love us, do I walk like that? Piff. Just like that, sir. You see yourself, sir, what a very _undestingué_ appearance it presents. The present fashionable style is more like this, sir. (_Performing an exaggerated Piccadilly dawdle._) See, sir--body a little forward--knees stiff--and a slight wobble, sir--very slight. (_Handing Allen the umbrella._) Perhaps, sir, you would take the umbrella and try it, sir. (_Allen attempts the business._) Piff. (_Criticising Allen’s practice. Allen crosses to R._) A little more bend, sir--a little wobble, sir--umbrella held lightly between the first and second fingers, sir, (_Allen goes l._) and if you could manage--allow me, sir--. (_takes umbrella, shows him, and returns it_) to swing it right round now and then, sir, it adds great _aplomb_. Allen. Great what? Piff. French, sir. Allen. (_Swings umbrella round awkwardly._) Like that? Piff. Not quite like that, sir. A little more airily, sir. Allen. (_Swinging it._) Does it ever put anybody’s eye out behind? Piff. I don’t think that point is considered of much importance in good society, sir--that is much better, sir. (_Goes r.Allen l._) If you would practice like that a little every day, sir, you would soon pick it up, sir. A little more bend, sir, and--er--don’t forget the wobble. (_Exit l. down stage._) (_Allen goes on practicing to himself, making as much fun as possible, consistent with comedy, out of the bus. As he is in the middle of it, enter Mrs. R.and Deb. door c., the door being opened for them by Peters. They stand c. staring aghast at Allen, who continues, unconscious of their presence._) Allen. (_Gags._) Soon pick it up! Strikes me someone’ll have to pick me up. It puts me in mind of one of our old turkey cocks. (_Mrs. R. and Deb. come down stage a little._) Allen. (_Bus. in r. corner of stage. Peters withdraws, grinning._) Deb. (_After a long pause, clapping her hands._) I know what it is, aunt. It’s our Allen. Allen. (_Seeing them._) Mother! (_Comes down r.c. Deb. l. c._) Mrs. R. My boy! (_They rush into each other’s arms c. and Mrs. R. gives him a huge hug--gets r.of Allen, Deb. l. Then he and Deb. have an embrace, and then he and Mrs. R. for the second time._) Allen. (_In the middle of Mrs. R. second hug._) Hold hard! Mrs. R. (_Alarmed._) What’s the matter, lad? Allen. Summat’s gone. Mrs. R. What? Allen. I don’t know; summat behind. (_Drawing back r. and looking down at himself._) Mother, you’ve spoilt me. Mrs. R. Ah, they used to tell me I allus did that, lad. (_Laughs._)