[Whispers again violently.]

PRESS. No, no; I can't have it. All my article! All my article!
It can't be--no----

LEMMY. I never see sick an obstinate thick-head! Yer 'yn't worvy of
yet tryde.

[He whispers still more violently and makes cabalistic signs.]

[LADY WILLIAM lifts the bomb from the cooler into the sight of
all. LORD WILLIAM, seeing it for the first time in full light,
bends double in silent laughter, and whispers to his wife. LADY
WILLIAM drops the bomb and gives way too. Hearing the sound,
LEMMY turns, and his goggling eyes pan them all in review. LORD
and LADY WILLIAM in fits of laughter, LITTLE ANNE stamping her
feet, for MISS STOKES, red, but composed, has her hands placed
firmly over her pupil's eyes and ears; LITTLE AIDA smiling
brilliantly, MRS. LEMMY blandly in sympathy, neither knowing
why; the FOUR FOOTMAN in a row, smothering little explosions.
POULDER, extremely grave and red, THE PRESS perfectly haggard,
gnawing at his nails.]

LEMMY. [Turning to THE PRESS] Blimy! It amooses 'em, all but the
genteel ones. Cheer oh! Press! Yer can always myke somefin' out o'
nufun'? It's not the fust thing as 'as existed in yer imaginytion
only.

PRESS. No, d---it; I'll keep it a bomb!

LEMMY. [Soothingly] Ah! Keep the sensytion. Wot's the troof
compared wiv that? Come on, Muvver! Come on, Little Aida! Time we
was goin' dahn to 'Earf.

[He goes up to the table, and still skidding a little at LADY
WILLIAM, takes the late bomb from the cooler, placing it under
his arm.]

MRS. LEMMY. Gude naight, sir; gude naight, ma'am; thank yu for my
cup o' tea, an' all yore kindness.

[She shakes hands with LORD and LADY WILLIAM, drops the curtsey
of her youth before Mr. POULDER, and goes out followed by LITTLE
AIDA, who is looking back at LITTLE ANNE.]

LEMMY. [Turning suddenly] Aoh! An' jist one frog! Next time yer
build an 'ouse, daon't forget--it's the foundytions as bears the
wyte.

[With a wink that gives way, to a last fascinated look at LADY
WILLIAM, he passes out. All gaze after them, except THE PRESS,
who is tragically consulting his spiflicated notes.]

L. ANNE. [Breaking away from Miss STOKES and rushing forward] Oh!
Mum! what was it?

CURTAIN

THE SKIN GAME

(A TRAGI-COMEDY)

"Who touches pitch shall be defiled"

CHARACTERS