resent
hour! [_Snatches it._

_The Earl._ And now, let the Revels commence.

_Enter the_ Korffdropp Troupe, _who give their marvellous Entertainment,
entitled, "The Three Surprise Packets;" after which--_

_Horehound._ This will conclude the first portion of our Entertainment,
Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen; and, while my wife and pardner retires to
change her costoom for the Second Part, I should be glad of the
hoppertoonity of a short pussonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my
right. [_Exit_ Mrs. HOREHOUND.

_The Earl_ (_graciously_). I will hear you, fellow! (_Aside._) Strange
how familiar his features seem to me!

_Horeh._ The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming of hage of
the _wrong heir_. (_Sensation--i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg
to the other, and murmur feebly._) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years
ago--(_slow music_)--I was in your Lordship's service as gamekeeper,
'ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame
day, and my hold woman was selected to hact as foster-mother to the
youthful lord. Well--(_tells a long, and not entirely original, story;
marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green
and magenta bows, &c., &c._) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at
a moment's notice----

_The Earl_ (_haughtily_). I did, upon discovering that you were in the
habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within
your umbrella. But proceed with your narration.

_Horeh._ I swore to be avenged, and so--(_common form again; the shifted
bows_)--consequently, as a moment's reflection will convince you, the
young man on the steps, in the button-'ole and tall 'at, is my lawful
son, while the real Viscount is--(_presenting_ COLTSFOOT, _who advances
modestly on his hands_)--'ere! [_Renewed sensation._

_The Earl._ This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (_To_ Lord
B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent
imposition--a gilded _lie_?

_Lord B._ Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my
best excuse!

_The E._ Nothing can excuse the fact that you--you, a low-born son of
the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education,
which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. (_To_ COLTSFOOT.)
Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for
these years of injustice and neglect!

_Coltsf._ Well, Guv'nor, if you could send out for