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ow. THOMAS has gone to the door. HENRY and CHARLES remain at the entrances to the hall. LEMMY looks dubiously around, his cockney assurrance gradually returns.] LEMMY. I think I knows the gas 'ere. This is where I came to-dy, 'yn't it? Excuse my hesitytion--these little 'ouses IS so much the syme. JAMES. [Gloomily] They are! LEMMY. [Looking at the four immovable footmen, till he concentrates on JAMES] Ah! I 'ad a word wiv you, 'adn't I? You're the four conscientious ones wot's wyin' on your gov'nor's chest. 'Twas you I spoke to, wasn't it? [His eyes travel over them again] Ye're so monotonous. Well, ye're busy now, I see. I won't wyste yer time. [He turns towards the hall, but CHARLES and HENRY bar the way in silence.] [Skidding a little, and regarding the four immovables once more] I never see such pytient men? Compared wiv yer, mountains is restless. [He goes to the table. JAMES watches him. ANNE barks from underneath.] [Skidding again] Why! There's a dawg under there. [Noting the grin on THOMAS'S face] Glad it amooses yer. Yer want it, daon't yer, wiv a fyce like that? Is this a ply wivaht words? 'Ave I got into the movies by mistyke? Turn aht, an' let's 'ave six penn'orth o' darkness. L. ANNE. [From beneath the cable] No, no! Not dark! LEMMY. [Musingly] The dawg talks anywy. Come aht, Fido! [LITTLE ANNE emerges, and regards him with burning curiosity.] I sy: Is this the lytest fashion o' receivin' guests? L. ANNE. Mother always wants people to feel at home. What shall we do? Would you like to hear the speeches? Thomas, open the door a little, do! JAMES. 'Umour 'er a couple o' inches, Tommy! [THOMAS draws the door back stealthily an inch or so.] L. ANNE. [After applying her eye-in a loud whisper] There's the old lady. Daddy's looking at her trousers. Listen! [For MRS. LEMMY'S voice is floating faintly through: "I putt in the buttonholes, I stretches the flies; I 'ems the bottoms; I lines the crutch; I putt on this bindin'; I sews on the buttons; I presses the seams--Tuppence three farthin's the pair."] LEMMY. [In a hoarse whisper] That's it, old lydy: give it 'em! L. ANNE. Listen! VOICE OF LORD W. We are indebted to our friends the Press for giving us the pleasure--er--pleasure of hearing from her own lips--the pleasure---- L. ANNE. Oh! Daddy! [THOMA
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