Fred. Great fun it's going to be, appearing before the old griffiness to-morrow, and swearing we are Sammy Smith and Willie Warren, innocent relatives of those delightful dam-sels. I wonder what they look like, anyway.
Char. Oh, hang it! I don't know. Let's put all that off till to-morrow. I'm thinking what we shall say to the girls, our girls, when we tell them; for of course we shall have to tell them finally, so they won't introduce us at the reception as their brother and cousin.
Fred. Confound it! I forgot that. But don't let us give away all the trash we wrote those girls. It would be no go with Gladys and your sister after that. What the dickens shall we say, anyway? Hello, who's this?
(Enter Kittie, disguised as Miss Griffin, and Gladys, who hides behind the screen, popping out her head now and then.)
Kit. (pompously). Good-afternoon, young gentlemen. You are the relatives of my young charges, Miss Goldthwaite and Miss Courtenay, I presume? (Boys are embarrassed.)
Char. (aside). What shall we say?
Fred (composedly). No, ma'am; not exactly. We—that is, I —I am the brother of Miss Warren. Miss Mabel Warren. I am Sammy Smith.
Kit. Smith? Oh, Smith, you say!
Char. No, no. He means he is Sammy Warren. I am Willie Smith. I am Emma's cousin, Miss Emma Warren—I mean, Smith—Miss Emma Smith, you know, ma'am.
Kit. Ah! You don't seem quite sure of your own names, nor of your sister's name and your cousin's, young gentlemen. I fear there is something wrong here. (Sternly.)
Char. Oh, no, ma'am. I assure you not. If you would only let us see the girls themselves, we can prove it.
Fred. Yes; if we might see Mabel and Emma for a few moments, ma'am, we could clear up everything.
Kit. You are sure you can? (Regarding Fred attentively.) Now I think I do see a startling resemblance between yourself and Miss Warren. Is it the nose? No; she has a very nice nose indeed. The mouth? Ah, yes. I think it must be the mouth.
Fred (meekly). Yes'm. They always said our mouths were very much alike. (Gladys laughs wildly behind screen; Charlie exploding on stage, L.)
Kit. (turning sharply to Charlie). You, sir, what are you laughing at? You do not at all resemble your sister. She is quite a good-looking girl.
Char. Oh, madam, I never claimed to have a pretty mouth. We fellows who have to eat at "Memorial" believe in quantity rather than quality.
Kit. Memorial?
Char. Yes'm. Grub-place at Harvard, you know.
