The Cabinet Minister Part 7

MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.

[To herself.] Haughty wretch!

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

Mrs. Gayl.u.s.tre!

MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.

Oh, Sir Julian, don't, don't stop!

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

I thought I was alone with Lady Euphemia.

MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.

I am waiting to see dear Lady Twombley. Oh, do permit me to hear that sweet instrument!

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

Pray sit down!

[SIR JULIAN resumes his seat and plays a plaintive melody. MRS.

GAYl.u.s.tRE listens in a rapt att.i.tude.]

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

[To BROOKE.] That person is _too_ odious to me.

BROOKE TWOMBLEY.

Several people have taken her up.

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

Somehow, being taken up is what she suggests.

BROOKE TWOMBLEY.

She seems a sort of society mermaid--half a lady and half a milliner--what? Only it bothers you to know where the one leaves off and the other begins. Who is she?

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

In prehistoric days she was a Miss Lebanon. Lord Bulpitt's son, Percy Gayl.u.s.tre, met her at Nice--or somewhere.

BROOKE TWOMBLEY.

Oh, yes, and he married her--or something.

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

Yes, and now she's a widow--or something.

BROOKE TWOMBLEY.

Why does the Mater encourage her?

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

Because Aunt Kate is _too_ good-hearted and impressionable. But, as a rule, I think Mrs. Gayl.u.s.tre makes a considerable reduction to those who ask her to their parties. [MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE is bending over SIR JULIAN and turning his music.] Look!

[PROBYN appears at the entrance.]

PROBYN.

Here's Sir Julian, my lady.

BROOKE TWOMBLEY.

Hullo, Mater!

[LADY TWOMBLEY, a handsome, bright, good-humoured woman, dressed magnificently in Court dress, enters. PROBYN retires, and SIR JULIAN stops playing.]

LADY TWOMBLEY.

[Kissing BROOKE.] Well, Brooke, darling, have you wanted your mother?

[Kissing LADY EUPHEMIA.] Effie, how sweet you look! what a dream of a bonnet! [Nods to MRS. GAYl.u.s.tRE.] How d'ye do, Mrs. Gayl.u.s.tre? Why, pa!

[She bends over him and kisses him.] You're worried--you've been playing your whistle.

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

Flute, Katherine.

LADY TWOMBLEY.

I mean flute. It was my brother Bob who always played a whistle when the crops were poor or the lambs fell sickly.

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

I had not the advantage of your brother Robert's acquaintance.

LADY TWOMBLEY.

Where's Imogen? Imogen!

IMOGEN.