The others pay no attention to this.]
HORACE [at steps up left]. It's not a riot--it's a revolution.
LADY CREECH [sinking into a chair, angrily]. One of your horrid
fellow-countrymen, my dear. Your Americans are really too--
ETHEL [proudly]. Not _my_ Americans, Lady Creech!
HORACE. Not _ours_, you know. One could hardly say that, _could_ one?
ALMERIC [heard outside laughing]. Oh, I say, what a go! [Enters from the
hotel, laughing.] Motor-car breaks down on the way here; one of the
Johnnies in it, a German, discharges the chauffeur; and the other Johnny
[he throws himself sprawling into a chair], one of your Yankee chaps,
Ethel, hires two silly little donkeys, like rabbits, you know, to pull
the machine the rest of the way here. Then as they can't make it, by
Jove, you know, he puts himself in the straps with the donkeys, and
proceeds, attended by the populace. Ha, ha! I say!
[HORACE, gloomy, comes down and sits at tea-table.]
LADY CREECH [angrily, to ALMERIC]. Don't mumble your words, Almeric. I
never understand people when they mumble their words.
[RIBIERE, who looks anxious, appears in the hotel doorway, then stands
aside on the stoop for MARIANO and MICHELE; they enter and pass him with
trays, fresh cloth, etc., for table down right, which they rapidly
proceed to set.
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