e altar by a bevy of Maids of Honour.

SIR RANDLE.

Ah, yes! An equally good opportunity for an imposing--[_closing his
eyes_] and reverential display! [_To_ LADY FILSON.] Lady Maundrell's
girl Sybil, eh, Winnie?

LADY FILSON.

Decidedly. And Lady Eva Sherringham.

BERTRAM.

Lady Lilian and Lady Constance Foxe----

SIR RANDLE.

Lady Irene Pallant----

[LADY FILSON _rises and almost runs to the writing-table,
where she sits and snatches at a sheet of paper._ SIR
RANDLE _follows her and stands beside her._

BERTRAM.

[_Reclining upon the settee on the left._] Lady Blanche Finnis----

LADY FILSON.

[_Seizing her pen._] Wait; don't be so quick! [_Writing._] "Hon. Sybil
Maundrell----"

[_The glazed door is opened softly and_ OTTOLINE
_enters. She pauses, looking at the group at the
writing-table._

SIR RANDLE.

[To LADY FILSON, as she writes.] Lady Eva Sherringham----

BERTRAM.

Ladies Lilian and Constance Foxe----

LADY FILSON.

[_Writing._] "Lady Eva Sherringham--Ladies Lilian and Constance
Foxe----"

BERTRAM.

Lady Irene Pallant----

SIR RANDLE.

I _pray_ there may be no captious opposition from Ottoline.

LADY FILSON.

Surely she doesn't want to be married like a middle-class widow from
Putney! [_Writing._] "Lady Blanche Finnis----"

BERTRAM.

If pages are permissible--to carry my sister's train, I mean t'say----

SIR RANDLE.

Pages--yes, yes----

BERTRAM.

There are the two Galbraith boys--little Lord Wensleydale and his
brother Herbert.

LADY FILSON.

[_Writing._] Such picturesque children!

SIR RANDLE.

I doubt whether the bare civilities which have passed between ourselves
and Lord and Lady Galbraith----

LADY FILSON.

They are country neighbours.

BERTRAM.

No harm in approaching them, my dear father. I mean to _say