Scene III
Austin, Menteith, returning
Austin. Was I ever like that, Menteith?
Menteith. No, Mr. George, you was always a gentleman.
Austin. Youth, my good fellow, youth.
Menteith. Quite so, Mr. George.
Austin. Well, Menteith, we cannot make no mend. We cannot play the jockey with Time. Age is the test: of wine, Menteith, and men.
Menteith. Me and you and the old Hermitage, Mr. George, he-he!
Austin. And the best of these, the Hermitage. But come: we lose our day. Help me off with this. (Menteith takes off Austin’s dressing-gown; Austin passes R. to dressing-table, and takes up first cravat.)
Austin. Will the hair do, Menteith?
Menteith. Never saw it lay better, Mr. George. (Austin proceeds to wind first cravat. A bell: exit Menteith. Austin drops first cravat in basket and takes second.)
Austin (winding and singing)—
‘I’d crowns resign
To call her mine,
Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill!’
(Second cravat a failure. Re-enter Menteith with card.) Fenwick? of Allonby Shaw? A good family, Menteith, but I don’t know the gentleman. (Lays down card, and takes up third cravat.) Send him away with every consideration.
Menteith. To be sure, Mr. George. (He goes out. Third cravat a success. Re-enter Menteith.) He says, Mr. George, that he has an errand from Miss Musgrave.
Austin (with waistcoat). Show him in, Menteith, at once. (Singing and fitting waistcoat at glass)—
‘I’d crowns resign
To call her mine,
Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill!’