I
wish Mamma would come.
CAPT. G. (Aside.) It was a nursery-tea and she's ashamed of it. By
Jove! She doesn't look half bad when she colors up like that.
(Aloud, helping himself from the dish.) Have you seen those new
chocolates at Peliti's?
Miss T. No, I made these myself. What are they like?
CAPT. G. These! De-licious. (Aside.) And that's a fact.
Miss T. (Aside.) Oh, bother! he'll think I'm fishing for
compliments. (Aloud.) No, Peliti's of course.
CAPT. G. (Enthusiastically.) Not to compare with these. How
d'you make them? I can't get my khansamah to understand the
simplest thing beyond mutton and fowl.
Miss T. Yes? I'm not a khansamah, you know. Perhaps you
frighten him. You should never frighten a servant. He loses his
head. It's very bad policy.
CAPT. G. He's so awf'ly stupid.
Miss T. (Folding her hands in her Zap.) You should call him
quietly and say: "O khansamah jee!"
CAPT. G. (Getting interested.) Yes? (Aside.) Fancy that little
featherweight saying, "O khansamah jee" to my bloodthirsty Mir
Khan!
Miss T Then you should explain the dinner, dish by dish.
CAPT. G. But I can't speak the vernacular.
Miss T. (Patronizingly.) You should pass the Higher Standard and
try.
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