Algernon round the
room.]
Algernon. Yes. But why does your aunt call you her uncle? ‘From little
Cecily, with her fondest love to her dear Uncle Jack.’ There is no objection, I
admit, to an aunt being a small aunt, but why an aunt, no matter what her
size may be, should call her own nephew her uncle, I can’t quite make
out. Besides, your name isn’t Jack at all; it is Ernest.
Jack. It isn’t Ernest; it’s Jack.
Algernon. You have always told me it was Ernest. I have introduced you to
every one as Ernest. You answer to the name of Ernest. You look as if your
name was Ernest. You are the most earnest-looking person I ever saw in my
life. It is perfectly absurd your saying that your name isn’t Ernest. It’s on
your cards. Here is one of them. [Taking it from case.] ‘Mr. Ernest
Worthing, B. 4, The Albany.’ I’ll keep this as a proof that your name is Ernest
if ever you attempt to deny it to me, or to Gwendolen, or to any one
else. [Puts the card in his pocket.]
Jack. Well, my name is Ernest in town and Jack in the country, and the
cigarette case was given to me in the country.
Algernon. Yes, but that does not account for the fact that your small Aunt
Cecily, who lives at Tunbridge Wells, calls you her dear uncle. Come, old boy,
you had much better have the thing out at once.
Jack. My dear Algy, you talk exactly as if you were a dentist. It is very vulgar
to talk like a dentist when one isn’t a dentist. It produces a false impression.
7
Algernon. Well, that is exactly what dentists always do. Now, go on! Tell
me the whole thing. I may mention that I have always suspected you of
being a confirmed and secret Bunburyist; and I am quite sure of it now.