Breakfast! And he can think of feeding at a moment
like this! Oh! buy a biscuit as you go along, or you can eat
the directory if you like when you have found the owner of the
hat! This delay is maddening. (SELWYN hustles FRED off again.)

MRS. S. There is something the matter with Samuel, his
manner's so strange this morning!

SEL. Once more relieved!

MRS. S. Samuel!

SEL. Bella!

MRS. S. I want to speak to you about Gracie. She's nearly
nineteen, and we ought to be thinking about seeing her settled.

SEL. There's no hurry--she's too young!

MRS. S. She's older than I was when we were married; I was
only seventeen.

SEL. It's a most extraordinary fact that every woman with
a tall daughter was married at seventeen, or says she was!

MRS. S. Sam, in _my_ case you _know_ it's true; besides,
there are good reasons why we should talk about Gracie.

SEL. (aside). Fred has been dropping hints on the subject,
evidently.

MRS. S. Speaking in her name I think I may tell you she
has seen some one she can care about.

SEL. (assuming authority). Um! What! without consulting me?

GRACE (aside to MRS. SELWYN). Oh, ma! suppose he says "no!"

MRS. S. Hush!

SEL. And who might the gentleman be? (Aside.) It is as well
to pretend to be blind! (Aloud.) Who is he? What is he?

Enter DIBBS, R. 2 E.

DIBBS. Your barber, sir!

SEL. My barber!

DIBBS. Yes, sir, waiting in your dressing-room--and please,
ma'am, there's your dressmaker waiting in your's!

SEL. I mustn't keep him waiting! If he got tired he'd lose
his temper and I should probably lose a bit of my chin.

(Exit, R. U. E.

GRACE. Interrupted again! It _is_ vexing!

MRS. S. I can't keep Mrs. Frillet, or she'd never let me
know the latest fashions before anyone else! Dibbs, go to the
Circulating Library and ask for the "_Frozen Tear_."

DIBBS. Yes, ma'am! Shall I wait while it's put in ice, ma'am.

MRS. S. Stupid boy! The "_Frozen Tear_" is by Horace
Tompkins, it's his latest and most fiery production. Go!

(Exit MRS. SELWYN, L. U. E.

DIBBS. First she says it's frozen, then it's fiery! She
may call it poetry, I call it bosh! (GRACE sits, L.)

SEL. (putting head in at door, R., and beckoning DIBBS).
Remember, Dibbs, I am at home to no one!

DIBBS (low that GRACE may not hear). Right, sir! Now to
fetch the "red ho