Miss T. Good gracious! So I have! Good-bye. (Retreats indoors
hastily.)

POOR DEAR MAMMA. (Bunching reins in fingers hampered by
too tight gauntlets.) CAPTAIN Gadsby!

CAPTAIN GADSBY stoops and makes the foot-rest. POOR
DEAR MAMMA blunders, halts too long, and breaks through it.

CAPT. G. (Aside.) Can't hold up even stone forever. It's all your
rheumatism. (Aloud.) Can't imagine why I was so clumsy.
(Aside.) Now Little Featherweight would have gone up like a bird.

They ride oat of the garden. The Captain falls back.

CAPT. G. (Aside.) How that habit catches her under the arms!
Ugh!

POOR DEAR MAMMA. (With the worn smile of sixteen
seasons, the worse for exchange.) You're dull this afternoon,
CAPTAIN Gadsby.

CAPT. G. (Spurring up wearily.) Why did you keep me waiting so
long?

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

(AN INTERVAL OF THREE WEEKS.)