_General Murmur_. What _can_ it be? Not _Turk_, I suppose, or
Magician?--Quarrelling?--Parnellite?--Impertinence? Shall we give it
up? No, they like us to guess, poor things; and besides, if we don't,
they'll do another; and it is getting _so_ late, and such a _long_
drive home. Oh, they're all coming back; then it is over. No, indeed,
we can't _imagine. "Familiar_!" To be sure--_how_ clever, and _how_
well you all acted it, to be sure--you must be quite tired after it
all. I am sure _we_--hem--are deeply indebted to you ... My dear Miss
ROSE, how wonderfully you disguised yourself. I never recognised you a
bit, nor _you_, Mr. NIGHTINGALE. What part did _you_ take?
_Mr. Nightingale_. I--er--didn't take any particular part--wasn't
wanted, you know.
_Miss Rose_. Not to _act_,--so we stayed outside and--and--arranged
things.
_An Old Lady_. Indeed? Then you had all the hard work, and none of the
pleasure, my dear, I'm afraid.
_Miss Rose_ (_sweetly_). Oh no. I mean yes!--but we didn't _mind_ it
much.
_The O.L._ And which of you settled what the Word was to be?
_Mr. N._ Well, I believe we settled that together.
[_Carriages are announced; departure of guests who are not
of the house-party. In the Smoking-room, Mr. PUSHINGTON
discovers that he does not seem exactly popular with the
other men, and puts it down to jealousy._
* * * * *