ice and
agreeably disrespectful manners. He carries a light sporting magazine
rifle.]

THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN. Hallo! Praed!

PRAED. Why, Frank Gardner! [Frank comes in and shakes hands cordially].
What on earth are you doing here?

FRANK. Staying with my father.

PRAED. The Roman father?

FRANK. He's rector here. I'm living with my people this autumn for the
sake of economy. Things came to a crisis in July: the Roman father had
to pay my debts. He's stony broke in consequence; and so am I. What are
you up to in these parts? do you know the people here?

PRAED. Yes: I'm spending the day with a Miss Warren.

FRANK [enthusiastically] What! Do you know Vivie? Isn't she a jolly girl?
I'm teaching her to shoot with this [putting down the rifle]. I'm so
glad she knows you: youre just the sort of fellow she ought to know.
[He smiles, and raises the charming voice almost to a singing tone as he
exclaims] It's e v e r so jolly to find you here, Praed.

PRAED. I'm an old friend of her mother. Mrs Warren brought me over to
make her daughter's acquaintance.

FRANK. The mother! Is _she_ here?

PRAED. Yes: inside, at tea.

MRS WARREN [calling from within] Prad-dee-ee-ee-eee! The tea-cake'll be
cold.

PRAED [calling] Yes, Mrs Warren. In a moment. I've just met a friend
here.

MRS WARREN. A what?

PRAED [louder] A friend.

MRS WARREN. Bring him in.

PRAED. All right. [To Frank] Will you accept the invitation?

FRANK [incredulous, but immensely amused] Is that Vivie's mother?

PRAED. Yes.

FRANK. By Jove! What a lark! Do you think she'll like me?

PRAED. I've no doubt youll make yourself popular, as usual. Come in and
try [moving towards the house].

FRANK. Stop a bit. [Seriously] I want to take you into my confidence.

PRAED. Pray don't. It's only some fresh folly, like the barmaid at
Redhill.

FRANK. It's ever so much more serious than that. You say you've only just
met Vivie for the first time?

PRAED. Yes.

FRANK [rhapsodically] Then you can have no idea what a girl she is. Such
character! Such sense! And her cleverness! Oh, my eye, Praed, but I can
tell you she is clever! And--need I add?--she loves me.

CROFTS [putting his head out of the window] I say, Praed: what are you
about? Do come along. [He disappears].

FRANK. Hallo! Sort of chap that would take a prize at a dog show, ain't
he? Who's he?

PRAED. Sir George Crofts, an old friend of Mrs Warren's. I think we had
better come in.

[On the