en the glass-door._

_Senna Blakdraf_ (_comes wildly out of Drawing-room_). Where is dear
Dr. HERDAL? Oh, Miss WANGEL, he has discharged me--but I can't--I
simply _can't_ live away from that lovely ledger!

_Hilda_ (_jubilantly_). At this moment Dr. HERDAL is in the
Dispensary, taking one of his own powders.

_Senna_ (_despairingly_). But--but it is utterly impossible! Miss
WANGEL, you have such a firm hold of him--_don't_ let him do that!

_Hilda._ I have already done all I can.

[RUeBUB _appears, talking confidentially with Mrs._ HERDAL, _at
gate._

_Senna._ Oh, Mrs. HERDAL, RUeBUB! The Pill-Doctor is going to take one
of his own preparations. Save him--quick!

_Ruebub_ (_with cold politeness_). I am sorry to hear it--for his sake.
But it would be quite contrary to professional etiquette to prevent
him.

_Mrs. Herd._ And I never interfere with my husband's proceedings. I
know _my_ duty, Miss BLAKDRAF, if _others_ don't!

_Hilda_ (_exulting with great intensity_). At last! Now I see him
in there, great and free again, mixing the powder in a spoon--with
jam!.... Now he raises the spoon. Higher--higher still! (_A gulp
is audible from within._) There, didn't you hear a harp in the air?
(_Quietly._) I can't see the spoon any more. But there is one he is
striving with, in blue spectacles!

_The New Assistant's Voice_ (_within_). The Pill-Doctor HERDAL has
taken his own powder!

_Hilda_ (_as if petrified_). That voice! _Where_ have I heard it
before? No matter--he has got the powder down! (_Waves a shawl in the
air, and shrieks with wild jubilation._) It's too awfully thrilling!
My--_my_ Pill-Doctor!

_The N. A._ (_comes out on verandah_). I am happy to inform you
that--as, to avoid accidents, I took the simple precaution of filling
all the Dispensary-jars with Camphorated Chalk--no serious results
may be anticipated from Dr. HERDAL'S rashness. (_Removes spectacles._)
NORA, don't you know me?

_Hilda_ (_reflects_). I really don't remember having the
pleasure----And I'm _sure_ I heard a harp in the air!

_Mrs. Herd._ I fancy, Miss WANGEL, it must have been merely a bee in
your bonnet!

_The N. A._ (_tenderly_). Still the same little singing-bird! Oh,
NORA, my long-lost lark!

_Hilda_ (_sulky_). I'm _not_ a lark--I'm a Bird of Prey--and, when I
get my claws into anything----!

_The N. A._ Macaroons, for instance? I remember your tastes of old.
See, NORA! (_Produces a paper-bag from his coat-tail