(In another moment those boots will be his.)
LADY MARY (quickly). Father, he is trying to get your boots from
you. There is nothing in the world we wouldn't give for boots.
ERNEST (rising haughtily, a proud spirit misunderstood). I only
wanted the loan of them.
AGATHA (running her fingers along them lovingly). If you lend them
to any one, it will be to us, won't it, father.
LORD LOAM. Certainly, my child.
ERNEST. Oh, very well. (He is leaving these selfish ones.) I don't
want your old boots. (He gives his uncle a last chance.) You don't
think you could spare me one boot?
LORD LOAM (tartly). I do not.
ERNEST. Quite so. Well, all I can say is I'm sorry for you.
(He departs to recline elsewhere.)
LADY MARY. Father, we thought we should never see you again.
LORD LOAM. I was washed ashore, my dear, clinging to a hencoop. How
awful that first night was.
LADY MARY. Poor father.
LORD LOAM. When I woke, I wept. Then I began to feel extremely
hungry.
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