de_ Aren't they dear?

_Jack_ (cruelly). Don't know,--didn't buy 'em. Whose tribute are they?

_Maude_ "Tribute" sounds like a funeral.

_Jack_ (with awful meaning). There may be a funeral. Whose are they?

_Maude_ (demurely). Mine.

_Jack_ (with infinite patience). You know what I mean, (with terrible
calmness). Who gave you those?

_Maude_ (preparing to cry). You're awfully cross, I think.

(Mr. Bulbus enters in rear hunting something. Maude sees him.)

_Jack_ (unmoved). Who gave you those?

_Maude_ (graciously, sweetly). Mr. Bulbus, the lilies are lovely.

_Mr. B._ (surprised into dropping a hammer). Yes'sum, I'm glad you--you
like 'em. (retreats in confusion.)

_Jack_ Oh! (slowly). That's awfully nice of you.

(Enter Mrs. De Smythe and Miss Hoppenhoer, bonnets and gloves on.)

_Mrs. De S._ Where is your father? It's time to go.

_Jack_ Past time. Grindem said to be there at 9:30.

_Mrs. De S._ What shall we do? I knew he would be late! I hope I shall
not have an attack!

_Miss H._ (grimly). No, I hope not--in that dress!

_Mrs. De S._ As if one's dress made any difference with an attack! O,
there he is! Well, Papa, you--good morning, Madam.

(Mr. De Smythe and Madam Sateene come in together.)

_Mr. De S._ My, how fine we look!

_Maude_ Madam Sateene, this shoulder--wrinkles.

_Madam_ Let me see. (Madam and Maude consult apart.)

_Mrs. De S._ We ought to go.

_Mr. De S._ Miss Rantum hasn't come.

_Jack_ (looking up from his own Ms.) O, I forgot! Miss Baked Beans will
meet us there. She couldn't come here.

_Maude_ She promised she would!

_Mr. De S._ All ready. How many of these do we take? (indicating
flowers). Need a dray?

_Maude_ Only Jack's--and I carry them. Jack, you carry my essay and
fan. (puts on hat). Is it straight? Where are my roses?

(Miss Hoppenhoer gives Mr. De Smythe two shawls and he goes.)

_Madam_ (anxiously). Wait one moment. (adjusts Maude's train). Now.

_Miss H._ Have you any lemon drops?

_Maude_ Of course not,--nobody carries lemon drops! Where is my
handkerchief!

_Jack_ (sheepishly, taking it out of his vest). Here it is.

_Mr. De S._ (from door). Come on, you people.

_Mrs. De S._ O dear, dear, I shall never stand it.

_Miss H._ (collecting salts and fans). We're coming.

_Mrs. De S._ O dear,--kiss me, Maudie. (sits down exhausted). It's just
like a wedding! I can't stand it! Some day you'll be getting married!

(Mr. Bulbus enters in the rear