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[Holding out her hand to him.] Colin.
MACPHAIL.
I'm thinking mother will be wondering----
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
[To herself.] Drat your moth---- [To MACPHAIL.] Never mind dear Lady Macphail for a moment. Colin, since you have discovered my love for you I will make no further reservation----
MACPHAIL.
But mother----
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
[Under her breath.] Drat your---- [To MACPHAIL.] Colin, I will be to you the wife you have described.
MACPHAIL.
I'm extremely obliged to ye--but----
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
Hush, bold boy! [She gives him a card.]
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
You know my cruel brother takes me back to town to-morrow. Here is my address so that you may write to me constantly, devotedly.
MACPHAIL.
[Reading the card.] "Mauricette & Cie., Court Dressmakers----"
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
[s.n.a.t.c.hing the card from him.] That's a wrong 'un--I mean, that's a mistake. [Giving another.] There. Hide it away, dear one--nearest your heart.
[He slips it into his stocking.]
MACPHAIL.
Oh!
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
And now, as I start in the morning at nine-forty-five, sharp, on the tick, we must say farewell. Oh, this parting is too cruel. Colin!
[She falls against him.]
MACPHAIL.
Here's my mother! [He throws her off.]
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
[Under her breath.] Drat your mother!
[LADY MACPHAIL enters.]
LADY MACPHAIL.
Madam. [To MACPHAIL.] Why do you leave the ball-room, my lad?
MACPHAIL.
I've been just watching the moonlight on Loch Auchentoshan.
LADY MACPHAIL.
I am proud to see this devotion to Loch Auchentoshan, but to-night you have other duties almost equally important. After this paltry waltz we lose ourselves in the wild pleasures of our native dance.
MACPHAIL.
The Strathspey? [He takes MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE'S card from his stocking.] Oh!
[Hides it and produces his ball-programme from his other stocking.] The Strathspey.
LADY MACPHAIL.
Come, lad. They have yet to see the Macphail lead the Strathspey with his betrothed.
[They go out together.]
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
Yes, and they shall ultimately see the Macphail writing love-letters to f.a.n.n.y--love-letters with a promise of marriage in 'em. I'll consult a solicitor directly I reach town and be ready to marry or to sue him. Oh, f.a.n.n.y, f.a.n.n.y, ungrateful girl, what a lot you have to be thankful for!
[She runs out and ANGeLE peeps in.]
ANGeLE.
Milord! Miladi! [She enters.] I must find miladi! Miladi!
[LADY TWOMBLEY enters.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
No news from Reeves & Shuckleback, the Stockbrokers. The waiting for it will finish me!
