o come.

SINGER (with a very winning smile). We will take great care of her,
Madame, as if she were our own sister.

MOTHER (surprisingly to JOHANNES). What do you think of cider as a
drink, Master Johannes?

TALKER (who had not expected it, but is always ready). Cider--ah,
there's a drink! Oh, I can talk to you about cider, glum body as I am by
nature, having been as it were taciturn from birth. Yet of cider I could
talk you--

MOTHER. Ours is considered very good cider. (To her daughter) Take them,
child, and give them such refreshment as they want. They have deserved
it for their entertainment.

DAUGHTER. Why, of course, Mother. Come this way please.

[She leads the way, and the others follow, the TALKER coming last and
murmuring "Cider" to himself.]

MOTHER. Master Johannes. (He turns round.) A word with you, if you
please, sir.

TALKER. But certainly, Madame. The cider will be all the better for the
expectation.

MOTHER. Sit down, please. (He does so.) Master Johannes, who are you,
all of you?

TALKER. I thought I had explained, Madame. Her Royal Sweetness Princess
Carissima, His Flutiness the Duke of Bogota, and myself a humble
Marquis. We may be referred to collectively as the Red Feathers. For
myself I am sometimes called Silent John, being of a close disposition.

MOTHER. Whatever you are called, you are, I think, a man of the world,
and you will understand that if I am to trust my daughter to you, for
however little a time, I must know something more about you.

TALKER. Madame, I will make a confession to you, a confession I have
never yet made to man, woman, or child. I am forty-six years of age; it
is, in fact, my birthday. Were I to begin to tell you something
about myself, starting from that day, forty-six years ago, when I was
born--were I to begin--well, Madame, I am only too ready to begin. It is
a subject I find vastly pleasant. But, (looking at her comically) shall
I begin?

MOTHER (with a smile). Would you make it so long a story, sir?

TALKER (with a sigh). The tongue is an unruly member, and to one who has
but three notes on the pipe, and yet desires to express himself, talking
is a great comfort.

MOTHER. I said you were a man of the world, sir. May I say now that I
think you must be a man of _our_ world?

TALKER. I am a man of many worlds. But if it would comfort your mother's
heart to know that your daughter will be in good company, I think I can
give you that comfort.

M