vicissitudes of family existence, and--well, I like to think of you as a
woman.

HILDEGARDE (_calmly and teasingly_). Mr. Tranto, we are forgetting one
thing.

TRANTO. What's that?

HILDEGARDE. You're an editor, and I'm a contributor whom you've never
met.

_Enter_ Mrs. Culver (_L_).

MRS. CULVER. Mr. Tranto, how are you? (_Shaking hands_.) I'm delighted
to see you. So sorry I didn't warn you we dine half an hour
later--thanks to the scandalous way the Government slave-drives my poor
husband. Please do excuse me. (_She sits_).

TRANTO. On the contrary, it's I who should ask to be excused--proposing
myself like this at the last moment.

MRS. CULVER. It was very nice of you to think of us. Come and sit down
here. (_Indicating a place by her side on the sofa_.) Now in my poor
addled brain I had an idea you were engaged for to-night at your aunt's,
Lady Blackfriars'.

TRANTO (_sitting_). Mrs. Culver, you forget nothing. I _was_ engaged for
Auntie Joe's, but she's ill and she's put me off.

MRS. CULVER. Dear me! How very sudden!