ickly.)_

Doctor. _(aside)_ Just my luck--lost two cases!

Plant. A plot, sir--a vile plot--whoever the scoundrels are, they
shall pay heavily for this wounded heart.

Doctor. _(seriously)_ Heart? Cardiac? _(hand on Plant's heart,
listens)_

Plant. _(half crying, on Doctor's arm)_ My precious jewels!
Two dear girls, Doctor. who have never caused me a moment's
uneasiness all their blessed lives.

Doctor. Apparently not. Hadn't you better go and look for them?

Plant. _(excitedly walks up and down)_ Ah, you are not a
father--

Doctor. _(aside, looking through microscope)_ Hope not--only
married this morning.

Plant. --or you couldn't stand there unmoved. I am struck down in
the flower of my days; this is a stroke, sir, a fatal stroke.
Ach! _(cries out with pain--puts hands to his back)_

Doctor. That's not a _stroke_--that's _lumbago_.

Plant. _(hotly)_ Hang it, sir, I speak in parables--I'm not a
patient!

Doctor. Not a patient! Then what do you come here for? Parables
are no good to me. I've got my living to earn! _(rings bell)_
Good afternoon!

_(Enter Aurora.)_

Aurora. 'Ere's a letter for you, sir.

Doctor. _(taking it)_ Thanks, and show this gentleman out.

Aurora. Very good, sir, we _are_ busy to-day, sir. _(to Plant)_
This way out. _(at door)_

Plant. _(to Doctor)_ You little know whom you are insulting. Some
day, sir, your eyes will be opened--and you will discover that
the country cousin--

_(Aurora listens and mimics him.)_

--whom you spurned from your door, was none other than a fairy
prince, who will this very day lift you from the slough of
grovelling poverty to the realms of affluence and prosperity.
Good day, sir!

_(Aurora crosses and exits behind Plant.)_

Doctor. _(alone)_ "This very day"--"Affluence and
prosperity"--"fairy prince"--oh, he's off his dot! _(looks at
postmark)_ "Ambleside." Why, it's from _(rises and crosses L.)_
Aunt Susannah! "My dear Nephew: I have heard glowing accounts of
your success." My success! "I long to see my brilliant nephew
--I'm coming up to London to-morrow." To-morrow--to-morrow,
_(looks at calander)_ that's Saturday, good job it's not to-day.
Mrs. O'Hara's got an Irish party on upstairs and Aunt Susie's so
awfully quiet she can't stand the slightest noise, _(reads)_ "It
is my constant joy to know that you are devoting your days--and
I daresay many of your nights--to the noble work of alleviating
human suffering." _(looks at her picture--re