Captain G. (aside).—No, it's not Dear Captain Gadsby or anything, now. How funny!
Mrs. G.—What a strange letter! (Reads.) "And so the moth has come too near the candle at last, and has been singed into—shall I say Respectability? I congratulate him, and hope he will be as happy as he deserves to be." What does that mean? Is she congratulating you about our marriage?
Captain G.—Yes, I suppose so.
Mrs. G. (still reading letter).—She seems to be a particular friend of yours.
Captain G.—Yes. She was an excellent matron of sorts—a Mrs. Herriott—wife of a Colonel Herriott. I used to know some of her people at home long ago—before I came out.
Mrs. G.—Some Colonel's wives are young—as young as me. I knew one who was younger.
Captain G.—Then it couldn't have been Mrs. Herriott. She was old enough to have been your mother, dear.
Mrs. G.—I remember now. Mrs. Scargill was talking about her at the Duffins' tennis, before you came for me, on Tuesday. Captain Mafflin said she was a "dear old woman". Do you know I think Mafflin is a very clumsy man with his feet.
Captain G. (aside).—Good old Jack! (Aloud.) Why, dear.
Mrs. G.—He had put his cup down on the ground then, and he literally stepped into it. Some of the tea spirted over my dress—the grey one. I meant to tell you about it before.
Captain G. (aside).—There are the makings of a strategist about Jack, though his methods are coarse. (Aloud.) You'd better get a new dress, then. (Aside.) Let us pray that that will turn her.
Mrs. G.—Oh, it isn't stained in the least. I only thought that I'd tell you. (Returning to letter.) What an extra-
