 And don't worry about her making her entrance through the fireplace. The old girl has no bump of locality at all. She's walked through fireplaces for years. Just the Santa Claus of 52nd Street. Let's not start with my entrance. We're very slick there. It's the end of the act that's so ragged. That's my fault. I'm awful. No, it isn't. It's mine. It'll be all right when I get my word slick. God knows I realize I'm slow. But I've never been as slow as this. We're tired, you know. All those years learning part after part. Alfred's entrance? All right.