Very good, sir.
LADY CAROLINE. Sir? Midsummer Eve! The wood!
PURDIE. Yes, hold on to the wood.
MATEY. You are . . . you are . . . you are Lady Caroline Laney!
LADY CAROLINE. It is Matey, the butler!
MABEL. You seemed quite happy with him, you know, Lady Caroline.
JOANNA (nicely). We won't tell.
LADY CAROLINE (subsiding). Caroline Matey! And I seemed to like it! How horrible!
MRS. COADE (expressing a general sentiment). It is rather difficult to see what we should do next.
MATEY (tentatively). Perhaps if I were to go downstairs?
PURDIE. It would be conferring a personal favour on us all.
(Thus encouraged MATEY and his tray resume friendly relations with the pantry.)
LADY CAROLINE (with itching fingers as she glares at Lob). It is all that wretch's doing.
(A quiver from Lob's right leg acknowledges the compliment. The gay music of a pipe is heard from outside.)
JOANNA (peeping). Coady!
MRS. COADE. Coady! Why is he so happy?
JOANNA (troubled). Dear, hold my hand.
MRS. COADE (suddenly trembling). Won't he know me?
PURDIE (abashed by that soft face). Mrs. Coade, I 'm sorry. It didn't so much matter about the likes of us, but for your sake I wish Coady hadn't gone out.
MRS. COADE. We that have been happily married this thirty years.
COADE (popping in buoyantly). May I intrude? My name is Coade. The fact is I was playing about in the wood on a whistle, and I saw your light.
MRS. COADE (the only one with the nerve to answer). Playing about in the wood with a whistle!
COADE (with mild dignity). And why not, madam?
MRS. COADE. Madam! Don't you know me?
COADE. I don't know you . . . (Reflecting.) But I wish I did.
MRS. COADE. Do you? Why?
COADE. If I may say so, you have a very soft, lovable face.
(Several persons breathe again.)
MRS. COADE (inquisitorially). Who was with you, playing whistles in the wood?
(The breathing ceases.)
COADE. No one was with me.
(And is resumed.)
MRS. COADE. No . . . lady?
COADE. Certainly not. (Then he spoils it.) I am a bachelor.
MRS. COADE. A bachelor!
JOANNA. Don't give way, dear; it might be much worse.
MRS. COADE. A bachelor! And you are sure you never spoke to me before? Do think.
COADE. Not to my knowledge. Never . . . except in dreams.
MABEL (taking a risk). What did you say to her in dreams?
COADE. I said, 'My dear.' (This when uttered surprises him.) Odd!
JOANNA. The darling man!
MRS. COADE (wavering). How could you say such things to an old woman?
COADE (thinking it out). Old? I didn't think of you as old. No, no, young--with the morning dew on your face--coming across a lawn--in a black and green dress--and carrying such a pretty parasol.
MRS. COADE (thrilling). That was how he first met me! He used to love me in black and green; and it was a pretty parasol. Look, I am old . . . So it can't be the same woman.
COADE (blinking). Old? Yes, I suppose so. But it is the same soft, lovable face, and the same kind, beaming smile that children could warm their hands at.
MRS. COADE. He always liked my smile.
PURDUE. So do we all.
COADE (to himself). Emma!
MRS. COADE. He hasn't forgotten my name!
COADE. It is sad that we didn't meet long ago. I think I have been waiting for you. I suppose we have met too late? You couldn't overlook my being an old fellow, could you, eh?
JOANNA. How lovely; he is going to propose to her again. Coady, you happy thing, he is wanting the same soft face after thirty years!
MRS. COADE (undoubtedly hopeful). We mustn't be too sure, but I think that is it. (Primly.) What is it exactly that you want, Mr. Coade?
COADE (under a lucky star). I want to have the right to hold the parasol over you. Won't you be my wife, my dear, and so give my long dream of you a happy ending?
MRS. COADE (preening). Kisses are not called for at our age, Coady, but here is a muffler for your old neck.
COADE. My muffler; I have missed it. (It is however to his forehead that his hand goes. Immediately thereafter he misses his sylvan attire.) Why .