Here's something safer. Charming girl, Brocky, dying to know you;
let me introduce you. Tweeny, Lord Brocklehurst--Lord Brocklehurst,
Tweeny.

(BROCKLEHURST accepts his fate; but he still has an eye for FISHER,
and something may come of this.)

LORD LOAM (severely). They are not all here, Crichton.

CRICHTON (with a sigh). Odds and ends.

(A STABLE-BOY and a PAGE are shown in, and for a moment no daughter
of the house advances to them.)

LORD LOAM (with a roving eye on his children). Which is to recite?

(The last of the company are, so to say, embraced.)

LORD LOAM (to TOMPSETT, as they partake of tea together). And how
are all at home?

TOMPSETT. Fairish, my lord, if 'tis the horses you are inquiring
for?

LORD LOAM. No, no, the family. How's the baby?

TOMPSETT. Blooming, your lordship.

LORD LOAM. A very fine boy. I remember saying so when I saw him;
nice little fellow.