Colonel. [Feelingly.] It is a, d—­d shame!  I don’t suppose there’s another case in the army of a man being treated as I’ve been.

Mrs. Gwyn.  But how on earth do you manage here on so little?

Colonel. [Brooding.] Your aunt’s very funny.  She’s a born manager.  She ’d manage the hind leg off a donkey; but if I want five shillings for a charity or what not, I have to whistle for it.  And then all of a sudden, Molly, she’ll take it into her head to spend goodness knows what on some trumpery or other and come to me for the money.  If I have n’t got it to give her, out she flies about 3 per cent., and worries me to invest in some wild-cat or other, like your friend’s thing, the Jaco what is it?  I don’t pay the slightest attention to her.

Mrs. Hope. [From the direction of the house.] Tom!

Colonel. [Rising.] Yes, dear! [Then dropping his voice.] I say, Molly, don’t you mind what I said about young Lever.  I don’t want you to imagine that I think harm of people—­you know I don’t—­but so many women come to grief, and—­[hotly]—­I can’t stand men about town; not that he of course——­

Mrs. Hope, [Peremptorily.] Tom!

Colonel. [In hasty confidence.] I find it best to let your aunt run on.  If she says anything——­

Mrs. Hope.  To-om!

Colonel.  Yes, dear!

[He goes hastily.  Mrs. Gwyn sits drawing circles on the ground with her charming parasol.  Suddenly she springs to her feet, and stands waiting like an animal at bay.  The colonel and Mrs. Hope approach her talking.]

Mrs. Hope.  Well, how was I to know?

Colonel.  Did n’t Joy come and tell you?

Mrs. Hope.  I don’t know what’s the matter with that child?  Well, Molly, so here you are.  You’re before your time—­that train’s always late.

Mrs. Gwyn. [With faint irony.] I’m sorry, Aunt Nell!

     [They bob, seem to take fright, and kiss each other gingerly.]

Mrs. Hope.  What have you done with Mr. Lever?  I shall have to put him in Peachey’s room.  Tom’s got no champagne.

Colonel.  They’ve a very decent brand down at the George, Molly, I’ll send Bob over——­

Mrs. Hope.  Rubbish, Tom!  He’ll just have to put up with what he can get!

Mrs. Gwyn.  Of course!  He’s not a snob!  For goodness sake, Aunt Nell, don’t put yourself out!  I’m sorry I suggested his coming.

Colonel.  My dear, we ought to have champagne in the house—­in case of accident.

Mrs. Gwyn. [Shaking him gently by the coat.] No, please, Uncle Tom!

Mrs. Hope. [Suddenly.] Now, I’ve told your uncle, Molly, that he’s not to go in for this gold mine without making certain it’s a good thing.  Mind, I think you’ve been very rash.  I’m going to give you a good talking to; and that’s not all—­you ought n’t to go about like this with a young man; he’s not at all bad looking.  I remember him perfectly well at the Fleming’s dance.