[Lady William lifts the bomb from the cooler into the sight of all. Lord William, seeing it for the first time in full light, bends double in silent laughter, and whispers to his wife. Lady William drops the bomb and gives way too. Hearing the sound, Lemmy turns, and his goggling eyes pan them all in review. Lord and lady William in fits of laughter, little Anne stamping her feet, for miss Stokes, red, but composed, has her hands placed firmly over her pupil’s eyes and ears; little Aida smiling brilliantly, Mrs. Lemmy blandly in sympathy, neither knowing why; the four footman in a row, smothering little explosions. Poulder, extremely grave and red, the press perfectly haggard, gnawing at his nails.]
Lemmy. [Turning to the press] Blimy! It amooses ’em, all but the genteel ones. Cheer oh! Press! Yer can always myke somefin’ out o’ nufun’? It’s not the fust thing as ’as existed in yer imaginytion only.
Press. No, d—–it; I’ll keep it a bomb!
Lemmy. [Soothingly] Ah! Keep the sensytion. Wot’s the troof compared wiv that? Come on, Muvver! Come on, Little Aida! Time we was goin’ dahn to ’Earf.
[He goes up to the table,
and still skidding a little at lady
William, takes the late bomb from the cooler, placing it under
Mrs. Lemmy. Gude naight, sir; gude naight, ma’am; thank yu for my cup o’ tea, an’ all yore kindness.
[She shakes hands with
lord and lady William, drops the curtsey
of her youth before Mr. Poulder, and goes out followed by little
Aida, who is looking back at little Anne.]
Lemmy. [Turning suddenly] Aoh! An’ jist one frog! Next time yer build an ’ouse, daon’t forget—it’s the foundytions as bears the wyte.
[With a wink that gives
way, to a last fascinated look at lady
William, he passes out. All gaze after them, except the press,
who is tragically consulting his spiflicated notes.]
L. Anne. [Breaking away from Miss Stokes and rushing forward] Oh! Mum! what was it?