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[They fasten the aigrette in MISS MUNKITTRICK'S hair.]
MISS MUNKITTRICK.
Have you seen my papa?
[LADY EUPHEMIA, carrying a sash, hurries in as IMOGEN goes off. MISS MUNKITTRICK rises; LADY EUPHEMIA and EGIDIA adjust the sash hastily.]
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
[Adjusting the sash.] My dear Flora, this is _too_ unfortunate!
[BROOKE re-enters with another shoe.]
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
The other--what! [To LADY EUPHEMIA.] There are some more pieces--come and help.
[BROOKE and LADY EUPHEMIA hurry out.]
MISS MUNKITTRICK.
I want my papa! [Seeing MUNKITTRICK.] Ah!
THE MUNKITTRICK.
[Giving her his arm.] Flora, we'll go home.
MISS MUNKITTRICK.
Papa, I'm not nearly _all_.
[Her aigrette is very much on one side, her sash is trailing, and she limps away carrying one slipper.]
EGIDIA.
Pray don't think of going!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Let it blow over!
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
My dear sir!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Oh, very well, you're losing the best of the ball.
[THE MUNKITTRICK and MISS MUNKITTRICK go out, followed by EGIDIA and DRUMDURRIS. IMOGEN, LADY EUPHEMIA, and BROOKE enter hastily, each carrying a fragment of MISS MUNKITTRICK's dress.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Taking the remnants.] Allow me--allow me--my affair.
[IMOGEN, LADY EUPHEMIA, and BROOKE go out. LEBANON crams the pieces of MISS MUNKITTRICK'S dress under a chair cus.h.i.+on.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Let it blow over. Where's my partner?
[He goes out. MACPHAIL enters with MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE upon his arm.]
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
Staying out is infinitely preferable to dancing, is it not, dear Sir Colin?
MACPHAIL.
Aye. I hate dancing.
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
But your dear mother says you resemble some beautiful wild thing when you dance the Strathspey.
MACPHAIL.
That's because I hate it; the Strathspey's enough to make a lad wild.
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
Witty boy!
MACPHAIL.
Eh, do you think I'm naturally quick?
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
Quick?
MACPHAIL.
Quick in my understanding?
MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.
I'm sure of it.
