HE. - There is one more thing. You know how to put on a shawl? The old lady is an invalid, and very particular. I don't know but that you'd better practise on me. [Snatches Mrs. Flynn's shawl from the table and, offering it to her, sits down again with his back toward her].

SHE [aside]. - Worse and worse. Daisy Chizzlehurst, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. But [desperately] I can't stop now. Oh! why does n't she come? [Proceeds to place the shawl round his shoulders. As she does so, he seizes her hands and holds her fast, glancing up back at her laughingly. They are in this position, when, suddenly, enter Mrs. Flynn. He drops the hands and springs to the opposite side of the room, where he begins to whistle and tries to look as unconcerned as possible.]

MRS. F. [bustling in]. - Dreadfully sorry to have kept you waiting so long, mum; the coachman is below, mum, if you'll step this way. [Exeunt Mrs. F. and Miss C., the latter letting fall a card from her muff as she goes out. Tom, who has stopped whistling and has been standing dumb-founded, darts forward and clutches card.]

HE [reading slowly]. - Miss - Daisy - Chizzlehurst!!! O Tom! [Collapse.]

PH.