Poor Dear Mamma. (Tartly to Miss T.) You've forgotten your guest, I think,
dear.
Miss T. Good gracious! So I have! Goodbye. (Retreats indoors hastily.)
Poor Dear Mamma. (Bunching reins in fingers hampered by too tight gauntlets.)
CAPTAIN Gadsby!
CAPTAIN GADSBY stoops and makes the foot-rest. Poor Dear Mamma blunders, halts
too long, and breaks through it.
Capt. G. (Aside.) Can't hold up seven stone forever. It's all your rheumatism.
(Aloud.) Can't imagine why I was so clumsy. (Aside.) Now Little Featherweight
would have gone up like a bird.
They ride out of the garden. The Captain falls back.
Capt. G. (Aside.) How that habit catches her under the arms! Ugh!
Poor Dear Mamma. (With the worn smile of sixteen seasons, the worse for
exchange.) You're dull this afternoon, Captain Gadsby.
Capt. G. (Spurring up wearily.) Why did you keep me waiting so long?
Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
(AN INTERVAL OF THREE WEEKS.)
GILDED YOUTH. (Sitting on railings opposite Town Hall.) Hullo, Gadsby! 'Been
trotting out the Gorgonzola! We all thought it was the Gorgon you're mashing.
Capt. G. (With withering emphasis.) You young cub! What the--does it matter to
you?
Proceeds to read GILDED YOUTH a lecture on discretion and deportment, which
crumbles latter like a Chinese Lantern.
Pages:
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168