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[_Amid a confused sound of voices MR. POSKET is brought in, through the curtains, by MR. WORMINGTON. LUGG follows._
MR. POSKET.
Wormington! Wormington! the two ladies! the two ladies! I know them!
MR. WORMINGTON.
It's all right, sir, it's all right--don't be upset, sir!
MR. POSKET.
I'm not well; what shall I do?
MR. WORMINGTON.
Nothing further, sir. What you have done is quite in form.
MR. POSKET.
What I _have_ done?
MR. WORMINGTON.
Yes, sir--you did precisely what I suggested--took the words from me.
They pleaded guilty.
MR. POSKET.
Guilty!
MR. WORMINGTON.
Yes, sir--and you sentenced them.
MR. POSKET.
Sentenced them! The ladies!
MR. WORMINGTON.
Yes, sir. You've given them seven days, without the option of a fine.
[_MR. POSKET collapses into MR. WORMINGTON'S arms._
THE SECOND SCENE.
_The scene changes to MR. POSKET'S drawing-room, as in the first act._
_BEATIE enters timidly, dressed in simple walking-costume._
BEATIE.
How dreadfully early. Eleven o'clock, and I'm not supposed to come till four. I wonder why I want to instruct Cis all day. I'm not nearly so enthusiastic about the two little girls I teach in Russell Square.
_POPHAM enters. Her eyes are red as if from crying._
POPHAM.
[_Drawing back on seeing BEATIE._] That music person again. I beg your pardon--I ain't got no instructions to prepare no drawing-room for no lessons till four o'clock.
BEATIE.
I wish to see Mrs. Posket.
POPHAM.
She hasn't come home.
BEATIE.
Oh then--er--um--Master Farringdon will do.
POPHAM.
[_In tears._] He haven't come home either!
BEATIE.
Oh, where is he?
POPHAM.
No one knows! His wicked old stepfather took him out late last night and hasn't returned him. Such a night as it was, too, and him still wearing his summer under-vests.
BEATIE.
Mr. Posket?
POPHAM.
Mr. Posket--no, my Cis!
BEATIE.
How dare you speak of Master Farringdon in that familiar way?
POPHAM.
