MISS D. (_Jumping up wildly, and hunting for body, which she has
discarded owing to the heat of the day._) Captain Sahib! What Captain
Sahib? Oh, good gracious, and I'm only half dressed! Well, I shan't
bother.
MISS T. (_Calmly._) You needn't. It isn't for us. That's Captain Gadsby.
He is going for a ride with Mamma. He generally comes five days out of
the seven.
AGONISED VOICE. (_From an inner apartment._) Minnie, run out and give
Captain Gadsby some tea, and tell him I shall be ready in ten minutes;
and, O Minnie, come to me an instant, there's a dear girl!
MISS T. Oh, bother! (_Aloud._) Very well, Mamma.
_Exit, and reappears, after five minutes, flushed, and rubbing her
fingers._
MISS D. You look pink. What has happened?
MISS T. (_In a stage whisper._) A twenty-four-inch waist, and she won't
let it out. Where _are_ my bangles? (_Rummages on the toilet-table, and
dabs at her hair with a brush in the interval._)
MISS D. Who is this Captain Gadsby? I don't think I've met him.
MISS T. You _must_ have. He belongs to the Harrar set. I've danced with
him, but I've never talked to him. He's a big yellow man, just like a
newly-hatched chicken, with an e-normous moustache. He walks like this
(_imitates Cavalry swagger_), and he goes 'Ha-Hmmm!' deep down in his
throat when he can't think of anything to say. Mamma likes him. I don't.
MISS D. (_Abstractedly_.) Does he wax his moustache?
MISS T. (_Busy with powder-puff_.) Yes, I think so. Why?
MISS D. (_Bending oner the bodice and sewing furiously_.) Oh,
nothing--only--
MISS T. (_Sternly_.) Only what? Out with it, Emma.
MISS D. Well, May Olger--she's engaged to Mr. Charteris, you
know--said--Promise you won't repeat this?
MISS T. Yes, I promise. What did she say?
MISS D. That--that being kissed (_with a rush_) by a man who _didn't_
wax his moustache was--like eating an egg without salt.
MISS T. (_At her full height, with crushing scorn_.) May Olger is a
horrid, nasty _Thing_, and you can tell her I said so. I'm glad she
doesn't belong to my set--I must go and feed this _man!_ Do I look
presentable?
MISS D. Yes, perfectly. Be quick and hand him over to your Mother, and
then we can talk. _I_ shall listen at the door to hear what you say to
him.
MISS T. 'Sure I don't care. _I'm_ not afraid of Captain Gadsby.
_In proof of this swings into 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-Hmmm. (_Aside_.) 'Wonder what the little beast can talk
about. 'Must make a shot at it.
MISS T. (_Aside_.) Oh, this is agonising. I _must_ say something.