quietly from door L., and stands leaning upon his chair.)

Starbottle (rising). Ladies and gentlemen, we are waiting only for
the presence of Mr. Alexander Morton, sen. I regret to say that
for the last twenty-four hours--he has been--er--exceedingly
preoccupied with the momentous cares of the--er--occasion. You who
know the austere habits of my friend and--er--client will probably
understand that he may be at this very moment engaged in prayerful
and Christian meditation, invoking the Throne of Grace, previous to
the solemn duties of--er--er--tonight.

Enter SERVANT.

Servant. Mr. Alexander Morton, sen.

Enter OLD MORTON, drunk, in evening costume, cravat awry, coat
half-buttoned up, and half-surly, half-idiotic manner. All rise in
astonishment. SANDY starts forward. OAKHURST pulls him back.

Morton (thickly). Don't rish! Don't rish! We'll all sit down!
How do you do, sir? I wish ye well, miss. (Goes around and
laboriously shakes hands with everybody.) Now lesh all take a
drink! lesh you take a drink, and you take a drink, and you take a
drink!

Starbottle. Permit me, ladies and gentlemen, to--er--explain: our
friend is--er--evidently laboring under--er--er--accident of
hospitality! In a moment he will be himself.

Old Morton. Hush up! Dry up--yourself--old turkey-cock! Eh!