For years she has
pretended that her real name was Harriet. I have recently found out
that she was christened Tabitha--or, anyhow, would have been, if
the clergyman had known his job.
MISS FARRINGDON. My great-nephew, Gerald, Mr. Wentworth--
GERALD. _Nephew_, Wentworth. I agreed to waive the "great" a long
time ago.
WENTWORTH. You'll excuse my asking, but do you never talk to each
other except through the medium of a third person?
MISS FARRINGDON (to GERALD). That's how they prefer to do it in the
Foreign Office. Isn't it, dear?
GERALD. Always, Aunt Tabitha. But really, you know, we both ought
to be talking to Wentworth and flaking after his mother and his
liver--and things like that.
MISS FARRINGDON. Yes, I'm afraid we're rather rude, Mr. Wentworth.
The Farringdons' great fault.
WENTWORTH (protesting). Oh no!
MISS FARRINGDON. How _is_ Mrs. Wentworth?
WENTWORTH. Wonderfully well, thank you, considering her age.
MISS FARRINGDON. Dear me, we met first in 1850.
GERALD. All frills and lavender.
MISS FARRINGDON. And now here's Gerald engaged. Have you seen
Pamela yet?
WENTWORTH. Not yet. I have been hearing about her from Tommy. He
classes her with the absolute rippers.
GERALD. Good old Tommy!
MISS FARRINGDON. Yes, she's much too good for Gerald.
GERALD.
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