self.] Chatty, hey? Chatty? [He comes face to face with the
DOWAGER, who glares at him.] Hah! H'm! [Offering her the flowers.]
I--ah--had these picked for you, by Jove, I did. A present from Joseph.

DOWAGER.

What, sir!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

[Replacing the flowers in his coat.] Excuse my humour. [Wiping his brow
again.] Chatty! I do wish Fan would cut in and help me. [Slaps SIR
JULIAN on the shoulder.] Twombley, old fellow.

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

Sir!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

Not comin' out with us to-day, hey?

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

No.

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

Gettin' past it, I suppose?

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

I am kept indoors by pressure of work, Mr. Lebanon.

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

Oh, of course, the Rajputana Canal Question, hey? I'm a big shareholder
in the Rajputana Railway, yer know. I say, tell me----

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

I cannot discuss official matters with you.

[SIR JULIAN turns from him.]

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

[To himself as he sits down.] Chatty! Chatty! I know what this'll end
in. It'll end in my standin' on my dignity. Where's Fanny? [Addressing
the others.] Talkin' about shootin', I'll tell you an amusin' little
story.

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

[To LADY TWOMBLEY and others sotto voce.] No, no!

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

It's all about myself.

BROOKE TWOMBLEY.

[Whispering to the others.] Good-bye. We're off.

[There is a general movement, the ladies and SIR JULIAN saying good-bye
to the shooters, unnoticed by LEBANON, who has his back to them.]

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

I was spendin' a day or two down in Essex with my old friend, Captain
Bolter, South 'Ampstead Artillery. Dear old Tom--great favourite with
the gals. Excuse my humour.

LADY TWOMBLEY, IMOGEN, LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART, SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY, LADY
MACPHAIL, and DOWAGER.

[Quietly to the shooters.] Good-bye.

MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.

It was wild-fowl Tom and I were after. We were lyin' in a ditch waitin'
for the ducks to drift in with the tide. [As LEBANON continues his story
all the others gradually and quietly disperse.] I counted fifty-seven
birds through my glass. So said I to Tom, "Tom, I'm in dooced good form,
my boy." "Devil you are!" said Tom. "And I lay you a pony to a penny
that fifteen of those birds fall to my gun." "Done!" said Tom. [He is
now alone in the room.] Well, to make a short story a long one--excuse
my humour--Tom sneezed. Up I got. So did the ducks. And then what the
dooce d'ye think 'appe