Em.: Hush! Some one's coming. Who is it?
Maj.: Mrs. Paly-Paget.
Em.: The very person!
Maj.: What, to adopt a child? Hasn't she got any?
Em.: Only one miserable hen-baby.
Maj.: Let's sound her on the subject.
(Enter Mrs. Paly-Paget, R.)
Ah, good morning. Mrs. Paly-Paget. I was just wondering at breakfast where did we meet last?
Mrs. P.-P.: At the Criterion, wasn't it? (Drops into vacant chair.)
Maj.: At the Criterion, of course.
Mrs. P.-P.: I was dining with Lord and Lady Slugford. Charming people, but so mean. They took us afterwards to the Velodrome, to see some dancer interpreting Mendelssohn's "songs without clothes." We were all packed up in a little box near the roof, and you may imagine how hot it was. It was like a Turkish bath. And, of course, one couldn't see anything.
Maj.: Then it was not like a Turkish bath.
Mrs. P.-P.: Major!
Em.: We were just talking of you when you joined us.
