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diff --git a/41589-0.txt b/41589-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8ce9dd --- /dev/null +++ b/41589-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6447 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41589 *** + + LYRE AND LANCET + + _A STORY IN SCENES_ + + BY + F. ANSTEY + + AUTHOR OF + "VICE VERSÂ," "THE GIANT'S ROBE," "VOCES POPULI," ETC. + + + LONDON: + SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15, WATERLOO PLACE. + 1895. + + (_All rights reserved._) + + + + +_Reprinted from "Punch" by permission of the Proprietors._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PART PAGE + + I. SHADOWS CAST BEFORE 1 + + II. SELECT PASSAGES FROM A COMING POET 11 + + III. THE TWO ANDROMEDAS 21 + + IV. RUSHING TO CONCLUSIONS 31 + + V. CROSS PURPOSES 42 + + VI. ROUND PEGS IN SQUARE HOLES 53 + + VII. IGNOTUM PRO MIRIFICO 64 + + VIII. SURPRISES--AGREEABLE AND OTHERWISE 76 + + IX. THE MAUVAIS QUART D'HEURE 87 + + X. BORROWED PLUMES 98 + + XI. TIME AND THE HOUR 109 + + XII. DIGNITY UNDER DIFFICULTIES 119 + + XIII. WHAT'S IN A NAME? 130 + + XIV. LE VÉTÉRINAIRE MALGRÉ LUI 141 + + XV. TRAPPED! 152 + + XVI. AN INTELLECTUAL PRIVILEGE 163 + + XVII. A BOMB SHELL 174 + + XVIII. THE LAST STRAW 184 + + XIX. UNEARNED INCREMENT 194 + + XX. DIFFERENT PERSONS HAVE DIFFERENT OPINIONS 204 + + XXI. THE FEELINGS OF A MOTHER 213 + + XXII. A DESCENT FROM THE CLOUDS 224 + + XXIII. SHRINKAGE 234 + + XXIV. THE HAPPY DISPATCH 244 + + + + +CHARACTERS + + + GALFRID UNDERSHELL (_a minor poet_). + JAMES SPURRELL, M.R.C.V.S. + THE COUNTESS OF CANTIRE. + LADY MAISIE MULL (_her daughter_). + SIR RUPERT CULVERIN. + LADY CULVERIN. + LADY RHODA COKAYNE. + MRS. BROOKE-CHATTERIS. + MISS SPELWANE. + THE BISHOP OF BIRCHESTER. + LORD LULLINGTON. + LADY LULLINGTON. + MRS. EARWAKER. + THE HONOURABLE BERTIE PILLINER. + CAPTAIN THICKNESSE. + ARCHIE BEARPARK. + MR. SHORTHORN. + DRYSDALE (_a journalist_). + TANRAKE (_a job-master_). + EMMA PHILLIPSON (_maid to_ LADY CANTIRE). + MRS. POMFRET (_housekeeper at Wyvern Court_). + MISS STICKLER (_maid to_ LADY CULVERIN). + MISS DOLMAN (_maid to_ LADY RHODA COKAYNE). + MLLE. CHIFFON (_maid to_ MISS SPELWANE). + M. RIDEVOS (_chef at Wyvern_). + TREDWELL (_butler at Wyvern_). + STEPTOE (_valet to_ SIR RUPERT CULVERIN). + THOMAS (_a footman_). + ADAMS (_stud-groom_). + CHECKLEY (_head coachman_). + Steward's Room Boy, etc. + + + + +LYRE AND LANCET + +A STORY IN SCENES + + + + +PART I + +SHADOWS CAST BEFORE + + + _In_ Sir RUPERT CULVERIN'S _Study at Wyvern Court. It is a + rainy Saturday morning in February._ Sir RUPERT _is at his + writing-table, as_ Lady CULVERIN _enters with a deprecatory + air_. + +_Lady Culverin._ So _here_ you are, Rupert! Not _very_ busy, are you? +I won't keep you a moment. (_She goes to a window._) Such a nuisance +it's turning out wet, with all these people in the house, isn't it? + +_Sir Rupert._ Well, I was thinking that, as there's nothing doing out +of doors, I might get a chance to knock off some of these confounded +accounts, but--(_resignedly_)--if you think I ought to go and look +after---- + +_Lady Culverin._ No, no; the men are playing billiards, and the women +are in the morning-room--_they_'re all right. I only wanted to ask you +about to-night. You know the Lullingtons, and the dear Bishop and Mrs. +Rodney, and one or two other people are coming to dinner? Well, who +ought to take in Rohesia? + +_Sir Rupert_ (_in dismay_). Rohesia! No idea she was coming down this +week! + +_Lady Culverin._ Yes, by the 4.45. With dear Maisie. Surely you knew +that? + +_Sir Rupert._ In a sort of way; didn't realize it was so near, that's +all. + +_Lady Culverin._ It's some time since we had her last. And she wanted +to come. I didn't think you would like me to write and put her off. + +_Sir Rupert._ Put her off? Of course I shouldn't, Albinia. If my only +sister isn't welcome at Wyvern at any time--I say at _any_ time--where +the deuce is she welcome? + +_Lady Culverin._ I don't know, dear Rupert. But--but about the table? + +_Sir Rupert._ So long as you don't put her near me--that's all _I_ +care about. + +_Lady Culverin._ I mean--ought I to send her in with Lord Lullington, +or the Bishop? + +_Sir Rupert._ Why not let 'em toss up? Loser gets her, of course. + +_Lady Culverin._ _Rupert!_ As if I could suggest such a thing to the +Bishop! I suppose she'd better go in with Lord Lullington--he's Lord +Lieutenant--and then it won't matter if she _does_ advocate +Disestablishment. Oh, but I forgot; she thinks the House of Lords +ought to be abolished _too_! + +_Sir Rupert._ Whoever takes Rohesia in is likely to have a time of it. +Talked poor Cantire into his tomb a good ten years before he was due +there. Always lecturing, and domineering, and laying down the law, as +long as _I_ can remember her. Can't stand Rohesia--never could! + +_Lady Culverin._ I don't think you ought to say so, really, Rupert. +And I'm sure _I_ get on very well with her--generally. + +_Sir Rupert._ Because you knock under to her. + +_Lady Culverin._ I'm sure I don't, Rupert--at least, no more than +everybody else. Dear Rohesia is so strong-minded and advanced and all +that, she takes such an interest in all the new movements and things, +that she can't understand contradiction; she is so democratic in her +ideas, don't you know. + +_Sir Rupert._ Didn't prevent her marrying Cantire. And a democratic +Countess--it's downright unnatural! + +_Lady Culverin._ She believes it's her duty to set an example and meet +the People half-way. That reminds me--did I tell you Mr. Clarion Blair +is coming down this evening, too?--only till Monday, Rupert. + +_Sir Rupert._ Clarion Blair! never heard of him. + +_Lady Culverin._ I suppose I forgot. Clarion Blair isn't his _real_ +name, though; it's only a--an alias. + +_Sir Rupert._ Don't see what any fellow wants with an alias. What _is_ +his real name? + +_Lady Culverin._ Well, I know it was _something_ ending in "ell," but +I mislaid his letter. Still, Clarion Blair is the name he writes +under; he's a poet, Rupert, and quite celebrated, so I'm told. + +_Sir Rupert_ (_uneasily_). A poet! What on earth possessed you to ask +a literary fellow down _here_? Poetry isn't much in our way; and a +poet _will_ be, confoundedly! + + [Illustration: "WHAT ON EARTH POSSESSED YOU TO ASK A LITERARY + FELLOW DOWN HERE?"] + +_Lady Culverin._ I really couldn't help it, Rupert. Rohesia insisted +on my having him to meet her. She likes meeting clever and interesting +people. And this Mr. Blair, it seems, has just written a volume of +verses which are finer than anything that's been done since--well, for +_ages_! + +_Sir Rupert._ What sort of verses? + +_Lady Culverin._ Well, they're charmingly bound. I've got the book in +the house, somewhere. Rohesia told me to send for it; but I haven't +had time to read it yet. + +_Sir Rupert._ Shouldn't be surprised if Rohesia hadn't, either. + +_Lady Culverin._ At all events, she's heard it talked about. The young +man's verses have made quite a sensation; they're so dreadfully clever +and revolutionary, and morbid and pessimistic, and all that, so she +made me promise to ask him down here to meet her! + +_Sir Rupert._ Devilish thoughtful of her. + +_Lady Culverin._ Wasn't it? She thought it might be a valuable +experience for him; he's sprung, I believe, from _quite_ the +middle-class. + +_Sir Rupert._ Don't see myself why he should be sprung on _us_. Why +can't Rohesia ask him to one of her own places? + +_Lady Culverin._ I dare say she will, if he turns out to be quite +presentable. And, of course, he _may_, Rupert, for anything we can +tell. + +_Sir Rupert._ Then you've never seen him yourself! How did you manage +to ask him here, then? + +_Lady Culverin._ Oh, I wrote to him through his publishers. Rohesia +says that's the usual way with literary persons one doesn't happen to +have met. And he wrote to say he would come. + +_Sir Rupert._ So we're to have a morbid revolutionary poet staying in +the house, are we? He'll come down to dinner in a flannel shirt and no +tie--or else a _red_ one--if he don't bring down a beastly bomb and +try to blow us all up! You'll find you've made a mistake, Albinia, +depend upon it. + +_Lady Culverin._ Dear Rupert, aren't you just a little bit _narrow_? +You forget that nowadays the very best houses are proud to entertain +Genius--no matter _what_ their opinions and appearance may be. And +besides, we don't know what changes may be coming. Surely it is wise +and prudent to conciliate the clever young men who might inflame the +masses against us. Rohesia thinks so; she says it may be our only +chance of stemming the rising tide of Revolution, Rupert! + +_Sir Rupert._ Oh, if Rohesia thinks a revolution can be stemmed by +asking a few poets down from Saturday to Monday, she might do _her_ +share of the stemming at all events. + +_Lady Culverin._ But you will be _nice_ to him, Rupert, won't you? + +_Sir Rupert._ I don't know that I'm in the habit of being uncivil to +any guest of yours in this house, my dear, but I'll be hanged if I +_grovel_ to him, you know; the tide ain't as high as all that. But +it's an infernal nuisance, 'pon my word it is; you must look after him +yourself. _I_ can't. I don't know what to talk to geniuses about; I've +forgotten all the poetry I ever learnt. And if he comes out with any +of his Red Republican theories in _my_ hearing, why---- + +_Lady Culverin._ Oh, but he _won't_, dear. I'm certain he'll be quite +mild and inoffensive. Look at Shakespeare--the bust, I mean--and _he_ +began as a poacher! + +_Sir Rupert._ Ah, and this chap would put down the Game Laws if he +could, I dare say; do away with everything that makes the country +worth living in. Why, if he had his way, Albinia, there wouldn't +be---- + +_Lady Culverin._ I know, dear, I know. And you must make him see all +that from _your_ point. Look, the weather really seems to be clearing +a little. We might all of us get out for a drive or something after +lunch. I would ride, if Deerfoot's all right again; he's the only +horse I ever feel _really_ safe upon, now. + +_Sir Rupert._ Sorry, my dear, but you'll have to drive then. Adams +tells me the horse is as lame as ever this morning, and he don't know +what to make of it. He suggested having Horsfall over, but I've no +faith in the local vets myself, so I wired to town for old Spavin. +He's seen Deerfoot before, and we could put him up for a night or two. +(_To_ TREDWELL, _the butler, who enters with a telegram_.) Eh, for me? +just wait, will you, in case there's an answer. (_As he opens it._) +Ah, this _is_ from Spavin--h'm, nuisance! "Regret unable to leave at +present, bronchitis, junior partner could attend immediately if +required.--Spavin." Never knew he _had_ a partner. + +_Tredwell._ I did hear, Sir Rupert, as Mr. Spavin was looking out for +one quite recent, being hasthmatical, m'lady, and so I suppose this is +him as the telegram alludes to. + +_Sir Rupert._ Very likely. Well, he's sure to be a competent man. We'd +better have him, eh, Albinia? + +_Lady Culverin._ Oh yes, and he must stay till Deerfoot's better. I'll +speak to Pomfret about having a room ready in the East Wing for him. +Tell him to come by the 4.45, Rupert. We shall be sending the omnibus +in to meet that. + +_Sir Rupert._ All right, I've told him. (_Giving the form to_ +TREDWELL.) See that that's sent off at once, please. (_After_ TREDWELL +_has left_.) By the way, Albinia, Rohesia may kick up a row if she +has to come up in the omnibus with a vet, eh? + +_Lady Culverin._ Goodness, so she might! but he needn't go _inside_. +Still, if it goes on raining like this--I'll tell Thomas to order a +fly for him at the station, and then there _can't_ be any bother about +it. + + + + +PART II + +SELECT PASSAGES FROM A COMING POET + + + _In the Morning Room at Wyvern._ Lady RHODA COKAYNE, Mrs. + BROOKE-CHATTERIS, _and_ Miss VIVIEN SPELWANE _are comfortably + established near the fireplace. The_ HON. BERTIE PILLINER, + Captain THICKNESSE, _and_ ARCHIE BEARPARK, _have just drifted + in_. + +_Miss Spelwane._ Why, you _don't_ mean to say you've torn yourselves +away from your beloved billiards already? _Quite_ wonderful! + +_Bertie Pilliner._ It's too _horrid_ of you to leave us to play all by +ourselves! We've all got so cross and fractious we've come in here to +be petted! + + [_He arranges himself at her feet, so as to exhibit a very + neat pair of silk socks and pumps._ + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). Do hate to see a fellow come down +in the mornin' with evenin' shoes on! + +_Archie Bearpark_ (_to_ BERTIE PILLINER). You speak for yourself, +Pillener. _I_ didn't come to be petted. Came to see if Lady Rhoda +wouldn't come and toboggan down the big staircase on a tea-tray. _Do!_ +It's clinkin' sport! + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). If there's one thing I _can't_ +stand, it's a rowdy bullyraggin' ass like Archie! + +_Lady Rhoda Cokayne._ Ta muchly, dear boy, but you don't catch me +travellin' downstairs on a tea-tray _twice_--it's just a bit _too_ +clinkin', don't you know! + +_Archie Bearpark_ (_disappointed_). Why, there's a mat at the bottom +of the stairs! Well, if you won't, let's get up a cushion fight, then. +Bertie and I will choose sides. Pilliner, I'll toss you for first pick +up--come out of that, do. + +_Bertie Pilliner_ (_lazily_). Thanks, I'm much too comfy where I am. +And I don't see any point in romping and rumpling one's hair just +before lunch. + +_Archie Bearpark._ Well, you _are_ slack. And there's a good hour +still before lunch. Thicknesse, _you_ suggest something, there's a +dear old chap. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_after a mental effort_). Suppose we all go and +have another look round at the gees--eh, what? + +_Bertie Pilliner._ I beg to oppose. Do let's show _some_ respect for +the privacy of the British hunter. Why should I go and smack them on +their fat backs, and feel every one of their horrid legs twice in one +morning? I shouldn't like a horse coming into my bedroom at all hours +to smack _me_ on the back. I should _hate_ it! + +_Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris._ I love them--dear things! But still, it's so +wet, and it would mean going up and changing our shoes too--perhaps +Lady Rhoda---- + + [Lady RHODA _flatly declines to stir before lunch_. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_resentfully_). Only thought it was better than +loafin' about, that's all. (_To himself._) I do bar a woman who's +afraid of a little mud. (_He saunters up to_ Miss SPELWANE _and +absently pulls the ear of a Japanese spaniel on her knee_.) Poo' +little fellow, then! + +_Miss Spelwane._ Poor little fellow? On _my_ lap! + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Oh, it--ah--didn't occur to me that he was on +_your_ lap. He don't seem to mind _that_. + +_Miss Spelwane._ No? _How_ forbearing of him! Would you mind not +standing quite so much in my light? I can't see my work. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself, retreating_). That girl's always +fishin' for compliments. I didn't rise _that_ time, though. It's +precious slow here. I've a good mind to say I must get back to +Aldershot this afternoon. + + [_He wanders aimlessly about the room_; ARCHIE BEARPARK + _looks out of window with undisguised boredom_. + +_Lady Rhoda._ I say, if none of you are goin' to be more amusin' than +this, you may as well go back to your billiards again. + +_Bertie Pilliner._ Dear Lady Rhoda, how cruel of you! You'll have to +let _me_ stay. I'll be _so_ good. Look here, I'll read aloud to you. I +_can_--quite prettily. What shall it be? You don't care? No more do I. +I'll take the first that comes. (_He reaches for the nearest volume on +a table close by._) How _too_ delightful! Poetry--which I know you +_all_ adore. + + [_He turns over the leaves._ + +_Lady Rhoda._ If you ask _me_, I simply loathe it. + +_Bertie Pilliner._ Ah, but then you never heard _me_ read it, you +know. Now, here is a choice little bit, stuck right up in a corner, as +if it had been misbehaving itself. "Disenchantment" it's called. + + [_He reads._ + + "My Love has sicklied unto Loath, + And foul seems all that fair I fancied-- + The lily's sheen a leprous growth, + The very buttercups are rancid!" + +_Archie Bearpark._ Jove! The Johnny who wrote that must have been +feelin' chippy! + +_Bertie Pilliner._ He gets cheaper than that in the next poem. This is +his idea of "Abasement." + + [_He reads._ + + "With matted head a-dabble in the dust, + And eyes tear-sealèd in a saline crust, + I lie all loathly in my rags and rust-- + Yet learn that strange delight may lurk in self-disgust." + +Now, do you know, I rather like that--it's so deliciously decadent! + +_Lady Rhoda._ I should call it utter rot, myself. + +_Bertie Pilliner_ (_blandly_). Forgive me, Lady Rhoda. "Utterly +rotten," if you like, but _not_ "utter rot." There's a difference, +really. Now, I'll read you a quaint little production which has +dropped down to the bottom of the page, in low spirits, I suppose. +"Stanza written in Depression near Dulwich." + + [_He reads._ + + "The lark soars up in the air; + The toad sits tight in his hole; + And I would I were certain which of the pair + Were the truer type of my soul!" + +_Archie Bearpark._ I should be inclined to back the toad, myself. + +_Miss Spelwane._ If you must read, do choose something a little less +dismal. Aren't there any love songs? + +_Bertie Pilliner._ I'll look. Yes, any amount--here's one. (_He +reads._) "To My Lady." + + "Twine, lanken fingers lily-lithe, + Gleam, slanted eyes all beryl-green, + Pout, blood-red lips that burst awrithe, + Then--kiss me, Lady Grisoline!" + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_interested_). So _that's_ his type. Does he mention +whether she _did_ kiss him? + +_Bertie Pilliner._ Probably. Poets are always privileged to kiss and +tell. I'll see ... h'm, ha, yes; he _does_ mention it ... I think I'll +read something else. Here's a classical specimen. + + [_He reads._ + + "Uprears the monster now his slobberous head, + Its filamentous chaps her ankles brushing; + Her twice-five roseal toes are cramped in dread, + Each maidly instep mauven-pink is flushing." + +And so on, don't you know.... Now I'll read you a regular rouser +called "A Trumpet Blast." Sit tight, everybody! + + [_He reads._ + + "Pale Patricians, sunk in self-indulgence, (One for _you_, + dear Archie!) + Blink your blearèd eyes. (Blink, pretty creatures, blink!) Behold + the Sun-- + Burst proclaim, in purpurate effulgence, + Demos dawning, and the Darkness--done!" + + [_General hilarity, amidst which_ Lady CULVERIN _enters_. + + [Illustration: "NOW I'LL READ YOU A REGULAR ROUSER CALLED 'A + TRUMPET BLAST.'"] + +_Lady Culverin._ So _glad_ you all contrive to keep your spirits up, +in spite of this dismal weather. What is it that's amusing you all so +much, eh, dear Vivien? + +_Miss Spelwane._ Bertie Pilliner has been reading aloud to us, dear +Lady Culverin--_the_ most ridiculous poetry--made us all simply +shriek. What's the name of it? (_Taking the volume out of_ BERTIE'S +_hand_.) Oh, _Andromeda, and other Poems_. By Clarion Blair. + +_Lady Culverin_ (_coldly_). Bertie Pilliner can turn everything into +ridicule, we all know; but probably you are not aware that these +particular poems are considered quite wonderful by all competent +judges. Indeed, my sister-in-law---- + +_All_ (_in consternation_). Lady Cantire! Is _she_ the author? Oh, of +course, if we'd had any idea---- + +_Lady Culverin._ I've no reason to believe that Lady Cantire ever +composed _any_ poetry. I was only going to say that she was most +interested in the author, and as she and my niece Maisie are coming to +us this evening---- + +_Miss Spelwane._ Dear Lady Culverin, the verses are quite, _quite_ +beautiful; it was only the way they were read. + +_Lady Culverin._ I am glad to hear you say so, my dear, because I'm +also expecting the pleasure of seeing the author here, and you will +probably be his neighbour to-night. I hope, Bertie, that you will +remember that this young man is a very distinguished genius; there is +no wit that _I_ can discover in making fun of what one doesn't happen +to understand. + + [_She passes on._ + +_Bertie_ (_plaintively, after_ Lady CULVERIN _has left the room_). May +I trouble somebody to scrape me up? I'm pulverised! But really, you +know, a real live poet at Wyvern! I say, Miss Spelwane, how will you +like to have him dabbling his matted head next to you at dinner, eh? + +_Miss Spelwane._ Perhaps I shall find a matted head more entertaining +than a smooth one. And, if you've quite done with that volume, _I_ +should like to have a look at it. + + [_She retires with it to her room._ + +_Archie_ (_to himself_). I'm not half sorry this Poet-johnny's comin'; +I never caught a Bard in a booby-trap _yet_. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). She's coming--this very evenin'! +And I was nearly sayin' I must get back to Aldershot! + +_Lady Rhoda._ So Lady Cantire's comin'; we shall all have to be on our +hind legs now! But Maisie's a dear thing. Do you know her, Captain +Thicknesse? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ I--I used to meet Lady Maisie Mull pretty often +at one time; don't know if she'll remember it, though. + +_Lady Rhoda._ She'll love meetin' this writin' man--she's so fearfully +romantic. I heard her say once that she'd give anythin' to be +idealized by a great poet--sort of--what's their names--Petrarch and +Beatrice business, don't you know. It will be rather amusin' to see +whether it comes off--won't it? + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_choking_). I--ah--no affair of mine, really. +(_To himself._) I'm not intellectual enough for her, I know that. +Suppose I shall have to stand by and look on at the Petrarchin'. Well, +there's always Aldershot! + + [_The luncheon gong sounds, to the general relief and + satisfaction._ + + + + +PART III + +THE TWO ANDROMEDAS + + + _Opposite a Railway Bookstall at a London Terminus._ + TIME--_Saturday_, 4.25 P.M. + +_Drysdale_ (_to his friend_, GALFRID UNDERSHELL, _whom he is "seeing +off"_). Twenty minutes to spare; time enough to lay in any quantity of +light literature. + +_Undershell_ (_in a head voice_). I fear the merely ephemeral does not +appeal to me. But I should like to make a little experiment. (_To the_ +Bookstall Clerk.) A--do you happen to have a copy left of Clarion +Blair's _Andromeda_? + +_Clerk._ Not in stock, sir. Never 'eard of the book, but dare say I +could get it for you. Here's a Detective Story we're sellin' like 'ot +cakes--_The Man with the Missing Toe_--very cleverly written story, +sir. + + [Illustration: "HERE'S A DETECTIVE STORY WE'RE SELLING LIKE + 'OT CAKES."] + +_Undershell._ I merely wished to know--that was all. (_Turning with +resigned disgust to_ DRYSDALE.) Just think of it, my dear fellow. At a +bookstall like this one feels the pulse, as it were, of Contemporary +Culture; and here my _Andromeda_, which no less an authority than the +_Daily Chronicle_ hailed as the uprising of a new and splendid era in +English Song-making, a Poetic Renascence, my poor _Andromeda_, is +trampled underfoot by--(_choking_)--Men with Missing Toes! What a +satire on our so-called Progress! + +_Drysdale._ That a purblind public should prefer a Shilling Shocker +for railway reading when for a modest half-guinea they might obtain a +numbered volume of Coming Poetry on hand-made paper! It _does_ seem +incredible,--but they do. Well, if they can't read _Andromeda_ on the +journey, they can at least peruse a stinger on it in this week's +_Saturday_. Seen it? + +_Undershell._ No. I don't vex my soul by reading criticisms on my +work. I am no Keats. They may howl--but they will not kill _me_. By +the way, the _Speaker_ had a most enthusiastic notice last week. + +_Drysdale._ So you saw _that_ then? But you're right not to mind the +others. When a fellow's contrived to hang on to the Chariot of Fame, +he can't wonder if a few rude and envious beggars call out "Whip +behind!" eh? You don't want to get in yet? Suppose we take a turn up +to the end of the platform. + + [_They do._ + + JAMES SPURRELL, M.R.C.V.S., _enters with his friend_, THOMAS + TANRAKE, _of_ HURDELL AND TANRAKE, _Job and Riding Masters, + Mayfair_. + +_Spurrell._ Yes, it's lucky for me old Spavin being laid up like +this--gives me a regular little outing, do you see? going down to a +swell place like this Wyvern Court, and being put up there for a day +or two! I shouldn't wonder if they do you very well in the +housekeeper's room. (_To_ Clerk.) Give me a Pink Un and last week's +_Dog Fancier's Guide_. + +_Clerk._ We've returned the unsold copies, sir. Could give you _this_ +week's; or there's _The Rabbit and Poultry Breeder's Journal_. + +_Spurrell._ Oh, rabbits be blowed! (_To_ TANRAKE.) I wanted you to see +that notice they put in of Andromeda and me, with my photo and all; it +said she was the best bull-bitch they'd seen for many a day, and fully +deserved her first prize. + +_Tanrake._ She's a rare good bitch, and no mistake. But what made you +call her such an outlandish name? + +_Spurrell._ Well, I _was_ going to call her Sal; but a chap at the +College thought the other would look more stylish if I ever meant to +exhibit her. Andromeda was one of them Roman goddesses, you know. + +_Tanrake._ Oh, I knew _that_ right enough. Come and have a drink +before you start--just for luck--not that you want _that_. + +_Spurrell._ I'm lucky enough in most things, Tom; in everything except +love. I told you about that girl, you know--Emma--and my being as good +as engaged to her, and then, all of a sudden, she went off abroad, and +I've never seen or had a line from her since. Can't call _that_ luck, +you know. Well, I won't say no to a glass of something. + + [_They disappear into the refreshment room._ + + _The_ Countess of CANTIRE _enters with her daughter_, + Lady MAISIE MULL. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_to_ Footman). Get a compartment for us, and two +foot-warmers, and a second-class as near ours as you can for +Phillipson; then come back here. Stay, I'd better give you +Phillipson's ticket. (_The_ Footman _disappears in the crowd_.) Now we +must get something to read on the journey. (_To_ Clerk.) I want a book +of some sort--no rubbish, mind; something serious and improving, and +_not_ a work of fiction. + +_Clerk._ Exactly so, ma'am. Let me see. Ah, here's _Alone with the +'Airy Ainoo_. How would you like that? + +_Lady Cantire_ (_with decision_). I should not like it at all. + +_Clerk._ I quite understand. Well, I can give you _Three 'Undred Ways +of Dressing the Cold Mutton_--useful little book for a family, +redooced to one and ninepence. + +_Lady Cantire._ Thank you. I think I will wait till I am reduced to +one and ninepence. + +_Clerk._ Precisely. What do you say to _Seven 'Undred Side-splitters +for Sixpence_? 'Ighly yumerous, I assure you. + +_Lady Cantire._ Are these times to split our sides, with so many +serious social problems pressing for solution? You are presumably not +without intelligence; do you never reflect upon the responsibility you +incur in assisting to circulate trivial and frivolous trash of this +sort? + +_Clerk_ (_dubiously_). Well, I can't say as I do, particular, ma'am. +I'm paid to sell the books--I don't _select_ 'em. + +_Lady Cantire._ That is _no_ excuse for you--you ought to exercise +some discrimination on your own account, instead of pressing people to +buy what can do them no possible good. You can give me a _Society +Snippets_. + +_Lady Maisie._ Mamma! A penny paper that says such rude things about +the Royal Family! + +_Lady Cantire._ It's always instructive to know what these creatures +are saying about one, my dear, and it's astonishing how they manage to +find out the things they do. Ah, here's Gravener coming back. He's got +us a carriage, and we'd better get in. + + [_She and her daughter enter a first-class compartment_; + UNDERSHELL _and_ DRYSDALE _return_. + + +_Drysdale_ (_to_ UNDERSHELL). Well, I don't see now where the +insolence comes in. These people have invited you to stay with +them---- + +_Undershell._ But why? Not because they appreciate my work--which they +probably only half understand--but out of mere idle curiosity to see +what manner of strange beast a Poet may be! And _I_ don't know this +Lady Culverin--never met her in my life! What the deuce does she mean +by sending me an invitation? Why should these smart women suppose that +they are entitled to send for a Man of Genius, as if he was their +_lackey_? Answer me that! + +_Drysdale._ Perhaps the delusion is encouraged by the fact that Genius +occasionally condescends to answer the bell. + +_Undershell_ (_reddening_). Do you imagine I am going down to this +place simply to please _them_? + +_Drysdale._ I should think it a doubtful kindness, in your present +frame of mind; and, as you are hardly going to please yourself, +wouldn't it be more dignified, on the whole, not to go at all? + +_Undershell._ You never _did_ understand me! Sometimes I think I was +born to be misunderstood! But you might do me the justice to believe +that I am not going from merely snobbish motives. May I not feel that +such a recognition as this is a tribute less to my poor self than to +Literature, and that, as such, I have scarcely the _right_ to decline +it? + +_Drysdale._ Ah, if you put it in that way, I am silenced, of course. + +_Undershell._ Or what if I am going to show these Patricians +that--Poet of the People as I am--they can neither patronise nor +cajole me? + +_Drysdale._ Exactly, old chap--what if you _are_? + +_Undershell._ I don't say that I may not have another reason--a--a +rather romantic one--but you would only sneer if I told you! I know +you think me a poor creature whose head has been turned by an +undeserved success. + +_Drysdale._ You're not going to try to pick a quarrel with an old +chum, are you? Come, you know well enough I don't think anything of +the sort. I've always said you had the right stuff in you, and would +show it some day; there are even signs of it in _Andromeda_ here and +there; but you'll do better things than that, if you'll only let some +of the wind out of your head. I take an interest in you, old fellow, +and that's just why it riles me to see you taking yourself so devilish +seriously on the strength of a little volume of verse which--between +you and me--has been "boomed" for all it's worth, and considerably +more. You've only got your immortality on a short repairing lease at +present, old boy! + +_Undershell_ (_with bitterness_). I am fortunate in possessing such a +candid friend. But I mustn't keep you here any longer. + +_Drysdale._ Very well. I suppose you're going first? Consider the +feelings of the Culverin footman at the other end! + +_Undershell_ (_as he fingers a first-class ticket in his pocket_). You +have a very low view of human nature! (_Here he becomes aware of a +remarkably pretty face at a second-class window close by_). As it +_happens_, I am travelling second. + + [_He gets in._ + +_Drysdale_ (_at the window_). Well, good-bye, old chap. Good luck to +you at Wyvern, and remember--wear your livery with as good a grace as +possible. + +_Undershell._ I do not intend to wear any livery whatever. + + [_The owner of the pretty face regards_ UNDERSHELL _with + interest_. + +_Spurrell_ (_coming out of the refreshment room_). What, second--with +all my exes. paid? Not _likely_! I'm going to travel in style this +journey. No--not a smoker; don't want to create a bad impression, you +know. This will do for me. + + [_He gets into a compartment occupied by_ Lady CANTIRE _and + her daughter_. + +_Tanrake_ (_at the window_). There--you're off now. Pleasant journey +to you, old man. Hope you'll enjoy yourself at this Wyvern Court +you're going to--and, I say, don't forget to send me that notice of +Andromeda when you get back! + + [_The_ Countess _and_ Lady MAISIE _start slightly; the train + moves out of the station_. + + + + +PART IV + +RUSHING TO CONCLUSIONS + + + _In a First-class Compartment._ + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Formidable old party opposite me in the +furs! Nice-looking girl over in the corner; not a patch on my Emma, +though! Wonder why I catch 'em sampling me over their papers whenever +I look up! Can't be anything wrong with my turn out. Why, of course, +they heard Tom talk about my going down to Wyvern Court; think I'm a +visitor there and no end of a duke! Well, what snobs some people are, +to be sure! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_to herself_). So this is the young poet I made +Albinia ask to meet me. I can't be mistaken, I distinctly heard his +friend mention _Andromeda_. H'm, well, it's a comfort to find he's +_clean_! Have I read his poetry or not? I know I _had_ the book, +because I distinctly remember telling Maisie she wasn't to read +it--but--well, that's of no consequence. He looks clever and quite +respectable--not in the least picturesque--which is fortunate. I was +beginning to doubt whether it was quite prudent to bring Maisie; but I +needn't have worried myself. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). Here, actually in the same carriage! +Does he guess who _I_ am? Somehow---- Well, he certainly _is_ different +from what I expected. I thought he would show more signs of having +thought and suffered; for he _must_ have suffered to write as he does. +If mamma knew I had read his poems; that I had actually written to beg +him not to refuse Aunt Albinia's invitation! He never wrote back. Of +course I didn't put any address; but still, he could have found out +from the Red Book if he'd cared. I'm rather glad now he _didn't_ care. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Old girl seems as if she meant to be +sociable; better give her an opening. (_Aloud._) Hem! would you like +the window down an inch or two? + +_Lady Cantire._ Not on _my_ account, thank you. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Broke the ice, anyway. (_Aloud._) Oh, _I_ +don't want it down, but some people have such a mania for fresh air. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_with a dignified little shiver_). Have they? With a +temperature as glacial as it is in here! They must be maniacs indeed! + +_Spurrell._ Well, it _is_ chilly; been raw all day. (_To himself._) +She don't answer. I _haven't_ broken the ice. + + [_He produces a memorandum book._ + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). He hasn't said anything _very_ original +yet. So _nice_ of him not to pose! Oh, he's got a note-book; he's +going to compose a poem. How interesting! + + [Illustration: "HE'S GOING TO COMPOSE A POEM. HOW + INTERESTING!"] + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Yes, I'm all right if Heliograph wins the +Lincolnshire Handicap; lucky to get on at the price I did. Wonder +what's the latest about the City and Suburban? Let's see whether the +Pink Un has anything about it. + + [_He refers to the Sporting Times._ + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). The inspiration's stopped--_what_ a +pity! How odd of him to read the _Globe_! I thought he was a Democrat! + +_Lady Cantire._ Maisie, there's quite a clever little notice in +_Society Snippets_ about the dance at Skympings last week. I'm sure I +wonder how they pick up these things; it quite bears out what I was +told; says the supper arrangements were "simply disgraceful; not +nearly enough champagne; and what there was, undrinkable!" So _like_ +poor dear Lady Chesepare; never _does_ do things like anybody else. +I'm sure _I've_ given her hints enough! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself, with a suppressed grin_). Wants to let me see +_she_ knows some swells. Now _ain't_ that paltry? + +_Lady Cantire_ (_tendering the paper_). Would you like to see it, +Maisie? Just this bit here; where my finger is. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, flushing_). I saw him smile. What _must_ +he think of us, with his splendid scorn for rank? (_Aloud._) No, thank +you, mamma: such a wretched light to read by! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Chance for _me_ to cut in! (_Aloud._) +Beastly light, isn't it? 'Pon my word, the company ought to provide us +with a dog and string apiece when we get out! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_bringing a pair of long-handled glasses to bear upon +him_). I happen to hold shares in this line. May I ask _why_ you +consider a provision of dogs and string at all the stations a +necessary or desirable expenditure? + +_Spurrell._ Oh--er--well, you know, I only meant, bring on _blindness_ +and that. Harmless attempt at a joke, that's all. + +_Lady Cantire._ I see. I scarcely expected that _you_ would condescend +to such weakness. I--ah--think you are going down to stay at Wyvern +for a few days, are you not? + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I was right. What Tom said _did_ fetch the +old girl; no harm in humouring her a bit. (_Aloud._) Yes--oh yes, +they--aw--wanted me to run down when I could. + +_Lady Cantire._ I heard they were expecting you. You will find Wyvern +a pleasant house--for a short visit. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). _She_ heard! Oh, she wants to kid me she +knows the Culverins. Rats! (_Aloud._) Shall I, though? I dare say. + +_Lady Cantire._ Lady Culverin is a very sweet woman; a little limited, +perhaps, not intellectual, or quite what one would call the _grande +dame_; but perhaps _that_ could scarcely be expected. + +_Spurrell_ (_vaguely_). Oh, of course not--no. (_To himself._) If she +bluffs, so can I! (_Aloud._) It's funny your turning out to be an +acquaintance of Lady C.'s, though. + +_Lady Cantire._ You think so? But I should hardly call myself an +_acquaintance_. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Old cat's trying to back out of it now; she +shan't, though! (_Aloud._) Oh, then I suppose you know Sir Rupert +best? + +_Lady Cantire._ Yes, I certainly know Sir Rupert better. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Oh, you do, do you? We'll see. (_Aloud._) +Nice cheery old chap, Sir Rupert, isn't he? I must tell him I +travelled down in the same carriage with a particular friend of his. +(_To himself._) That'll make her sit up! + +_Lady Cantire._ Oh, then you and my brother Rupert have met already? + +_Spurrell_ (_aghast_). Your brother! Sir Rupert Culverin your----! +Excuse me--if I'd only known, I--I do assure you I never should have +dreamt of saying----! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_graciously_). You've said nothing whatever to +distress yourself about. You couldn't possibly be expected to know who +I was. Perhaps I had better tell you at once that I am Lady Cantire, +and this is my daughter, Lady Maisie Mull. (SPURRELL _returns_ Lady +MAISIE'S _little bow in the deepest confusion_.) We are going down to +Wyvern too, so I hope we shall very soon become better acquainted. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself, overwhelmed_). The deuce we shall! I _have_ +got myself into a hole this time; I wish I could see my way well out +of it! Why on earth couldn't I hold my confounded tongue? I _shall_ +look an ass when I tell 'em. + + [_He sits staring at them in silent embarrassment._ + + + _In a Second-class Compartment._ + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). Singularly attractive face this girl has; +so piquant and so refined! I can't help fancying she is studying me +under her eyelashes. She has remarkably bright eyes. Can she be +interested in me? Does she expect me to talk to her? There are only +she and I--but no, just now I would rather be alone with my thoughts. +This Maisie Mull whom I shall meet so soon; what is _she_ like, I +wonder? I presume she is unmarried. If I may judge from her artless +little letter, she is young and enthusiastic, and she is a passionate +admirer of my verse; she is longing to meet me. I suppose some men's +vanity would be flattered by a tribute like that. I think I must have +none; for it leaves me strangely cold. I did not even reply; it struck +me that it would be difficult to do so with any dignity, and she +didn't tell me where to write to.... After all, how do I know that +this will not end--like everything else--in disillusion? Will not such +crude girlish adoration pall upon me in time? If she were +exceptionally lovely; or say, even as charming as this fair +fellow-passenger of mine--why then, to be sure--but no, something +warns me that that is not to be. I shall find her plain, sandy, +freckled; she will render me ridiculous by her undiscriminating +gush.... Yes, I feel my heart sink more and more at the prospect of +this visit. Ah me! + + [_He sighs heavily._ + +_His Fellow Passenger_ (_to herself_). It's too silly to be sitting +here like a pair of images, considering that---- (_Aloud._) I hope you +aren't feeling unwell? + +_Undershell._ Thank you, no, not unwell. I was merely thinking. + +_His Fellow Passenger._ You don't seem very cheerful over it, I must +say. I've no wish to be inquisitive, but perhaps you're feeling a +little low-spirited about the place you're going to? + +_Undershell._ I--I must confess I am rather dreading the prospect. How +wonderful that you should have guessed it! + +_His Fellow Passenger._ Oh, I've been through it myself. I'm just the +same when _I_ go down to a new place; feel a sort of sinking, you +know, as if the people were sure to be disagreeable, and I should +never get on with them. + +_Undershell._ _Exactly_ my own sensations! If I could only be sure of +finding _one_ kindred spirit, one soul who would help and understand +me. But I daren't let myself hope even for that! + +_His Fellow Passenger._ Well, I wouldn't judge beforehand. The chances +are there'll be _somebody_ you can take to. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). What sympathy! What bright, cheerful +common sense! (_Aloud._) Do you know, you encourage me more than you +can possibly imagine! + +_His Fellow Passenger_ (_retreating_). Oh, if you are going to take my +remarks like _that_, I shall be afraid to go on talking to you! + +_Undershell_ (_with pathos_). Don't--_don't_ be afraid to talk to me! +If you only knew the comfort you give! I have found life very sad, +very solitary. And true sympathy is so rare, so refreshing. I--I fear +such an appeal from a stranger may seem a little startling; it is true +that hitherto we have only exchanged a very few sentences; and yet +already I feel that we have something--much--in common. You can't be +so cruel as to let all intimacy cease here--it is quite tantalising +enough that it must end so soon. A very few more minutes, and this +brief episode will be only a memory; I shall have left the little +green oasis far behind me, and be facing the dreary desert once +more--alone! + +_His Fellow Passenger_ (_laughing_). Well, of all the uncomplimentary +things! As it happens, though, "the little green oasis"--as you're +kind enough to call me--_won't_ be left behind; not if it's aware of +it! I think I heard your friend mention Wyvern Court! Well, that's +where _I'm_ going. + +_Undershell_ (_excitedly_). You--_you_ are going to Wyvern Court! Why, +then, you must be---- + + [_He checks himself._ + +_His Fellow Passenger._ What were you going to say; _what_ must I be? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). There is no doubt about it; bright, +independent girl; gloves a trifle worn; travels second-class for +economy; it must be Miss Mull herself; her letter mentioned Lady +Culverin as her aunt. A poor relation, probably. She doesn't suspect +that I am---- I won't reveal myself just yet; better let it dawn upon +her gradually. (_Aloud._) Why, I was only about to say, why then you +must be going to the same house as I am. How extremely fortunate a +coincidence! + +_His Fellow Passenger._ That remains to be seen. (_To herself._) What +a funny little man; such a flowery way of talking for a footman. Oh, +but I forgot; he said he _wasn't_ going to wear livery. Well, he +_would_ look a sight in it! + + + + +PART V + +CROSS PURPOSES + + + _In a First-class Compartment._ + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). Poets don't seem to have much +self-possession. He seems perfectly overcome by hearing my name like +that. If only he doesn't lose his head completely and say something +about my wretched letter! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I'd better tell 'em before they find out +for themselves. (_Aloud; desperately._) My lady, I--I feel I ought to +explain at once how I come to be going down to Wyvern like this. + + [Lady MAISIE _only just suppresses a terrified protest_. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_benignly amused_). My good sir, there's not the +slightest necessity; I am perfectly aware of who you are, and +everything about you! + +_Spurrell_ (_incredulously_). But really I don't see _how_ your +ladyship---- Why, I haven't said a _word_ that---- + +_Lady Cantire_ (_with a solemn waggishness_.) Celebrities who mean to +preserve their _incognito_ shouldn't allow their friends to see them +off. I happened to hear a certain _Andromeda_ mentioned, and that was +quite enough for Me! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself, relieved_). She knows; seen the sketch of me +in the _Dog Fancier_, I expect; goes in for breeding bulls herself, +very likely. Well, that's a load off my mind! (_Aloud._) You don't say +so, my lady. I'd no idea your ladyship would have any taste that way; +most agreeable surprise to me, I can assure you! + +_Lady Cantire._ I see no reason for _surprise_ in the matter. I have +always endeavoured to cultivate my taste in all directions; to keep in +touch with every modern development. I make it a rule to read and see +_everything_. Of course, I have no time to give more than a rapid +glance at most things; but I hope some day to be able to have another +look at your _Andromeda_. I hear the most glowing accounts from all +the judges. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). She knows all the judges! She _must_ be in +the fancy! (_Aloud._) Any time your ladyship likes to name I shall be +proud and happy to bring her round for your inspection. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_with condescension_). If you are kind enough to offer +me a copy of _Andromeda_, I shall be _most_ pleased to possess one. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Sharp old customer, this; trying to rush me +for a pup. _I_ never offered her one! (_Aloud._) Well, as to _that_, +my lady, I've promised so many already, that really I don't--but +there--I'll see what I can _do_ for you. I'll make a note of it; you +mustn't mind having to _wait_ a bit. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_raising her eyebrows_). I will make an effort to +support existence in the meantime. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). I couldn't have believed that the man +who could write such lovely verses should be so--well, not _exactly_ a +gentleman! How _petty_ of me to have such thoughts. Perhaps geniuses +never _are_. And as if it _mattered_! And I'm sure he's very natural +and simple, and I shall like him when I know him better. + + [_The train slackens._ + +_Lady Cantire._ What station is this? Oh, it _is_ Shuntingbridge. +(_To_ SPURRELL, _as they get out_.) Now, if you'll kindly take charge +of these bags, and go and see whether there's anything from Wyvern to +meet us--you will find us here when you come back. + + + _On the Platform at Shuntingbridge._ + +_Lady Cantire._ Ah, _there_ you are, Phillipson! Yes, you can take the +jewel-case; and now you had better go and see after the trunks. +(PHILLIPSON _hurries back to the luggage-van_; SPURRELL _returns_.) +Well, Mr.--I always forget names, so I shall call you "Andromeda"--have +you found out---- The omnibus, is it? Very well, take us to it, and +we'll get in. + + [_They go outside._ + +_Undershell_ (_at another part of the platform--to himself_). Where +has Miss Mull disappeared to? Oh, there she is, pointing out her +luggage. What a quantity she travels with! Can't be such a _very_ poor +relation. How graceful and collected she is, and how she orders the +porters about! I really believe I shall enjoy this visit. (_To a +porter._) That's mine--the brown one with a white star. I want it to +go to Wyvern Court--Sir Rupert Culverin's. + +_Porter_ (_shouldering it_). Right, sir. Follow me, if you please. + + [_He disappears with it._ + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I mustn't leave Miss Mull alone. +(_Advancing to her._) Can I be of any assistance? + +_Phillipson._ It's all done now. But you might try and find out how +we're to get to the Court. + + [UNDERSHELL _departs; is requested to produce his ticket, + and spends several minutes in searching every pocket + but the right one_. + + [Illustration: SEARCHING EVERY POCKET BUT THE RIGHT ONE.] + + + _In the Station Yard at Shuntingbridge._ + +_Lady Cantire_ (_from the interior of the Wyvern omnibus, testily, to_ +Footman). What are we waiting for _now_? Is my maid coming with us--or +how? + +_Footman._ There's a fly ordered to take her, my lady. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_to_ SPURRELL, _who is standing below_). Then it's +_you_ who are keeping us! + +_Spurrell._ If your ladyship will excuse me. I'll just go and see if +they've put out my bag. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_impatiently_). Never mind about your bag. (_To_ +Footman.) What have you done with this gentleman's luggage? + +_Footman._ Everything for the Court is on top now, my lady. + + [_He opens the door for_ SPURRELL. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_to_ SPURRELL, _who is still irresolute_). For +goodness' sake don't hop about on that step! Come in, and let us +start. + +_Lady Maisie._ _Please_ get in--there's _plenty_ of room! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). They _are_ chummy, and no mistake! (_Aloud, +as he gets in._) I do hope it won't be considered any intrusion--my +coming up along with your ladyships, I mean! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_snappishly_). Intrusion! I never heard such nonsense! +Did you expect to be asked to run behind? You really mustn't be so +ridiculously modest. As if your _Andromeda_ hadn't procured you the +_entrée_ everywhere! + + [_The omnibus starts._ + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Good old Drummy! No idea I was such a +swell. I'll keep my tail up. Shyness ain't one of _my_ failings. +(_Aloud, to an indistinct mass at the further end of the omnibus, +which is unlighted._) Er--hum--pitch dark night, my lady, don't get +much idea of the country! (_The mass makes no response._) I was +saying, my lady, it's too dark to---- (_The mass snores peacefully._) +Her ladyship seems to be taking a snooze on the quiet, my lady. (_To_ +Lady MAISIE.) (_To himself._) Not that _that's_ the term for it! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_distantly_). My mother gets tired rather easily. (_To +herself._) It's really too dreadful; he makes me hot all over! If he's +going to do this kind of thing at Wyvern! And I'm more or less +_responsible_ for him, too! I _must_ see if I can't---- It will be only +kind. (_Aloud, nervously._) Mr.--Mr. Blair! + +_Spurrell._ Excuse me, my lady, not _Blair_--Spurrell. + +_Lady Maisie._ Of course, _how_ stupid of me. I knew it wasn't +_really_ your name. Mr. _Spurrell_, then, you--you won't mind if I +give you just one little hint, _will_ you? + +_Spurrell._ I shall take it kindly of your ladyship, whatever it is. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_more nervously still_). It's really such a trifle, +but--but, in speaking to mamma or me, it isn't at all necessary to say +"my lady" or "your ladyship." I--I mean, it sounds rather, +well--_formal_, don't you know! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). _She's_ going to be chummy now! (_Aloud._) +I thought, on a first acquaintance, it was only manners. + +_Lady Maisie._ Oh--manners? yes, I--I dare say--but still--but +still--_not_ at Wyvern, don't you know. If you like, you can call +mamma "Lady Cantire," and me "Lady Maisie," now and then, and, of +course, my aunt will be "Lady Culverin," but--but if there are other +people staying in the house, you needn't call them _anything_, do you +see? + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I'm not likely to have the chance! +(_Aloud._) Well, if you're sure they won't _mind_ it, because I'm not +used to this sort of thing, so I put myself entirely in your +hands,--for, of course, _you_ know what brought me down here? + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). He means my foolish letter! Oh, I must +put a stop to _that_ at once! (_In a hurried undertone._) Yes--yes; +I--I think I do I mean, I _do_ know--but--but _please_ forget +it--_indeed_, you must! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Forget I've come down as a vet? The +Culverins will take care I don't forget that! (_Aloud._) But, I say, +it's all very well; but how _can_ I? Why, look here; I was told I was +to come down here on purpose to---- + +_Lady Maisie_ (_on thorns_). I know--you needn't tell me! And _don't_ +speak so loud! _Mamma_ might hear! + +_Spurrell_ (_puzzled_). What if she did? Why, I thought her la--your +mother _knew_! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). He actually thinks I should tell mamma! +Oh, how _dense_ he is! (_Aloud._) Yes--yes--of _course_ she +knows--but--but you might _wake_ her! And--and please don't allude to +it again--to me or--or any one. (_To herself._) That I should have to +beg him to be silent like this! But what can I _do_? Goodness only +knows _what_ he mightn't say, if I don't warn him! + +_Spurrell_ (_nettled_). I don't mind _who_ knows. _I'm_ not ashamed +of it, Lady Maisie--whatever you may be! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, exasperated_). He dares to imply that +_I_'ve done something to be ashamed of! (_Aloud, haughtily._) I'm +_not_ ashamed--why _should_ I be? Only--oh, can't you _really_ +understand that--that one may do things which one wouldn't care to be +reminded of publicly? I don't _wish_ it--isn't _that_ enough? + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I see what she's at now--doesn't want it to +come out that she's travelled down here with a vet! (_Aloud, +stiffly._) A lady's wish is enough for _me_ at any time. If you're +sorry for having gone out of your way to be friendly, why, I'm not the +person to take advantage of it. I hope I know how to behave. + + [_He takes refuge in offended silence._ + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). Why did I say anything at all! I've only +made things worse--I've let him see that he _has_ an advantage. And +he's certain to use it sooner or later--unless I am civil to him. I've +offended him now--and I shall _have_ to make it up with him! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I thought all along she didn't seem as +chummy as her mother--but to turn round on me like this! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_waking up_). Well, Mr. Andromeda, I should have +thought you and my daughter might have found _some_ subject in common; +but I haven't heard a word from either of you since we left the +station. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). That's _some_ comfort! (_Aloud._) You +must have had a nap, mamma. We--we _have_ been talking. + +_Spurrell._ Oh yes, we _have_ been talking, I can assure you, Lady +Cantire! + +_Lady Cantire._ Dear me. Well, Maisie, I hope the conversation was +entertaining? + +_Lady Maisie._ M--most entertaining, mamma! + +_Lady Cantire._ I'm quite sorry I missed it. (_The omnibus stops._) +Wyvern at last! But _what_ a journey it's been, to be sure! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I should just think it had. I've never been +so taken up and put down in all my life! But it's over now; and, thank +goodness, I'm not likely to see any more of 'em! + + [_He gets out with alacrity._ + + + + +PART VI + +ROUND PEGS IN SQUARE HOLES + + + _In the Entrance Hall at Wyvern._ + +_Tredwell_ (_to_ Lady CANTIRE). This way, if you please, my lady. Her +ladyship is in the Hamber Boudwore. + +_Lady Cantire._ Wait. (_She looks round._) What has become of that +young Mr. Androm----? (_Perceiving_ SPURRELL, _who has been modestly +endeavouring to efface himself_.) Ah, _there_ he is! Now, come along, +and be presented to my sister-in-law. She'll be enchanted to know you! + +_Spurrell._ But indeed, my lady, I--I think I'd better wait till she +sends for me. + +_Lady Cantire._ Wait? Fiddlesticks! What! A famous young man like you! +Remember _Andromeda_, and don't make yourself so ridiculous! + +_Spurrell_ (_miserably_). Well, Lady Cantire, if her ladyship _says_ +anything, I hope you'll bear me out that it wasn't---- + +_Lady Cantire._ Bear you out? My good young man, you seem to need +somebody to bear you _in_! Come, you are under _my_ wing. _I_ answer +for your welcome--so do as you're told. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself, as he follows resignedly_). It's my belief +there'll be a jolly row when I _do_ go in; but it's not my fault! + +_Tredwell_ (_opening the door of the Amber Boudoir_). Lady Cantire and +Lady Maisie Mull (_To_ SPURRELL.) What name, if you please, sir? + + [Illustration: "WHAT NAME, IF YOU PLEASE, SIR?"] + +_Spurrell_ (_dolefully_). You can say "James Spurrell"--you needn't +_bellow_ it, you know! + +_Tredwell_ (_ignoring this suggestion_). Mr. James Spurrell. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself, on the threshold_). If I don't get the chuck +for this, I _shall_ be surprised, that's all! + + [_He enters._ + + + _In a Fly._ + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). Alone with a lovely girl, who has no +suspicion, as yet, that I am the poet whose songs have thrilled her +with admiration! _Could_ any situation be more romantic? I think I +must keep up this little mystification as long as possible. + +_Phillipson_ (_to herself_). I wonder who he is? _Somebody's_ Man, I +suppose. I do believe he's struck with me. Well, I've no objection. I +don't see why I shouldn't forget Jim now and then--he's quite +forgotten me! (_Aloud._) They might have sent a decent carriage for us +instead of this ramshackle old summerhouse. We shall be _hours_ +getting to the house at this rate! + +_Undershell_ (_gallantly_). For my part, I care not how long we may +be. I feel so unspeakably content to be where I am. + +_Phillipson_ (_disdainfully_). In this mouldy, lumbering old concern? +You must be rather easily contented, then! + +_Undershell_ (_dreamily_). It travels only too swiftly. To me it is a +veritable enchanted car, drawn by a magic steed. + +_Phillipson._ I don't know whether he's magic--but I'm sure he's lame. +And stuffiness is not _my_ notion of _enchantment_. + +_Undershell._ I'm not prepared to deny the stuffiness. But cannot you +guess what has transformed this vehicle for me--in spite of its +undeniable shortcomings--or must I speak more plainly still? + +_Phillipson._ Well, considering the shortness of our acquaintance, I +must say you've spoken quite plainly enough as it is! + +_Undershell._ I know I must seem unduly expansive, and wanting in +reserve; and yet that is not my true disposition. In general, I feel +an almost fastidious shrinking from strangers---- + +_Phillipson_ (_with a little laugh_). Really? I shouldn't have thought +it! + +_Undershell._ Because, in the present case, I do not--I cannot--feel +as if we _were_ strangers. Some mysterious instinct led me, almost +from the first, to associate you with a certain Miss Maisie Mull. + +_Phillipson._ Well, I wonder how you discovered _that_. Though you +shouldn't have said "Miss"--_Lady_ Maisie Mull is the proper form. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). Lady Maisie Mull! I attach no meaning to +titles--and yet nothing but rank could confer such perfect ease and +distinction. (_Aloud._) I should have said _Lady_ Maisie Mull, +undoubtedly--forgive my ignorance. But at least I have divined you. +Does nothing tell you who and what _I_ may be? + +_Phillipson._ Oh, I think I can give a tolerable guess at what _you_ +are. + +_Undershell._ You recognize the stamp of the Muse upon me, then? + +_Phillipson._ Well, I shouldn't have taken you for a groom exactly. + +_Undershell_ (_with some chagrin_). You are really too flattering! + +_Phillipson._ Am I? Then it's your turn now. You might say you'd never +have taken me for a _lady's maid_! + +_Undershell._ I might--if I had any desire to make an unnecessary and +insulting remark. + +_Phillipson._ Insulting? Why, it's what I _am_! I'm maid to Lady +Maisie. I thought your mysterious instinct told you all about it? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself--after the first shock_). A lady's maid! +Gracious Heaven! What have I been saying--or rather, what _haven't_ I? +(_Aloud._) To--to be sure it did. Of course, I quite understand +_that_. (_To himself._) Oh, confound it all, I wish we were at Wyvern! + +_Phillipson._ And, after all, you've never told me who _you_ are. Who +_are_ you? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I must not humiliate this poor girl! +(_Aloud._) I? Oh--a very insignificant person, I assure you! (_To +himself._) This is an occasion in which deception is pardonable--even +justifiable! + +_Phillipson._ Oh, I knew _that_ much. But you let out just now you +had to do with a Mews. You aren't a rough-rider, are you? + +_Undershell._ N--not _exactly_--not a _rough_-rider. (_To himself._) +Never on a horse in my life!--unless I count my _Pegasus_. (_Aloud._) +But you are right in supposing I am connected with a muse--in one +sense. + +_Phillipson._ I _said_ so, didn't I? Don't you think it was rather +clever of me to spot you, when you're not a bit horsey-looking? + +_Undershell_ (_with elaborate irony_). Accept my compliments on a +power of penetration which is simply phenomenal! + +_Phillipson_ (_giving him a little push_). Oh, go along--it's all talk +with you--I don't believe you mean a word you say! + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). She's becoming absolutely vulgar. +(_Aloud._) I don't--I _don't_; it's a manner I have; you mustn't +attach any importance to it--none whatever! + +_Phillipson._ What! Not to all those high-flown compliments? Do you +mean to tell me you are only a gay deceiver, then? + +_Undershell_ (_in horror_). Not a _deceiver_, no; and decidedly not +_gay_. I mean I _did_ mean the _compliments_, of course. (_To +himself._) I mustn't let her suspect anything, or she'll get talking +about it; it would be too horrible if this were to get round to Lady +Maisie or the Culverins--so undignified; and it would ruin all my +_prestige_! I've only to go on playing a part for a few minutes, +and--maid or not--she's a most engaging girl! + + [_He goes on playing the part, with the unexpected result + of sending_ Miss PHILLIPSON _into fits of uncontrollable + laughter_. + + + _At a Back Entrance at Wyvern. The Fly has just set down_ + PHILLIPSON _and_ UNDERSHELL. + +_Tredwell_ (_receiving_ PHILLIPSON). Lady Maisie's maid, I presume? +I'm the butler here--Mr. Tredwell. Your ladies arrived some time back. +I'll take you to the housekeeper, who'll show you their rooms, and +where yours is, and I hope you'll find everything comfortable. (_In an +undertone, indicating_ UNDERSHELL, _who is awaiting recognition in the +doorway_.) Do you happen to know who it is _with_ you? + +_Phillipson_ (_in a whisper_). I can't quite make him out--he's so +flighty in his talk. But he _says_ he belongs to some Mews or other. + +_Tredwell._ Oh, then _I_ know who he is. We expect him right enough. +He's a partner in a crack firm of Vets. We've sent for him special. +I'd better see to him, if you don't mind finding your own way to the +housekeeper's room, second door to the left, down that corridor. +(PHILLIPSON _departs_.) Good evening to you, Mr.--ah--Mr.----? + +_Undershell_ (_coming forward_). Mr. Undershell. Lady Culverin expects +me, I believe. + +_Tredwell._ Quite correct, Mr. Undershell, sir. She do. Leastwise, I +shouldn't say myself she'd require to see you--well, not _before_ +to-morrow morning--but you won't mind _that_, I dare say. + +_Undershell_ (_choking_). Not mind that! Take me to her at once! + +_Tredwell._ Couldn't take it on myself, sir, really. There's no +particular 'urry. I'll let her ladyship know you're 'ere; and if she +wants you, she'll send for you; but, with a party staying in the +'ouse, and others dining with us to-night, it ain't likely as she'll +have time for you till to-morrow. + +_Undershell._ Oh, then whenever her ladyship should find leisure to +recollect my existence, will you have the goodness to inform her that +I have taken the liberty of returning to town by the next train? + +_Tredwell._ Lor! Mr. Undershell, you aren't so pressed as all _that_, +are you? I know my lady wouldn't like you to go without seeing you +personally; no more wouldn't Sir Rupert. And I understood you was +coming down for the Sunday! + +_Undershell_ (_furious_). So did _I_--but not to be treated like this! + +_Tredwell_ (_soothingly_). Why, _you_ know what ladies are. And you +couldn't see Deerfoot--not properly, to-night, either. + +_Undershell._ I have seen enough of this place already. I intend to go +back by the next train, I tell you. + +_Tredwell._ But there _ain't_ any next train up to-night--being a loop +line--not to mention that I've sent the fly away, and they can't spare +no one at the stables to drive you in. Come, sir, make the best of it. +I've had my horders to see that you're made comfortable, and Mrs. +Pomfret and me will expect the pleasure of your company at supper in +the 'ousekeeper's room, 9.30 sharp. I'll send the steward's room boy +to show you to your room. + + [_He goes, leaving_ UNDERSHELL _speechless_. + +_Undershell_ (_almost foaming_). The insolence of these cursed +aristocrats! Lady Culverin will see me when she has time, forsooth! I +am to be entertained in the servants' hall! _This_ is how our upper +classes honour Poetry! I won't stay a single hour under their +infernal roof. I'll walk. But where _to_? And how about my luggage? + + [PHILLIPSON _returns_. + +_Phillipson._ Mr. Tredwell says you want to go already! It _can't_ be +true! Without even waiting for supper? + +_Undershell_ (_gloomily_). Why should I wait for supper in this house? + +_Phillipson._ Well, _I_ shall be there; I don't know if _that's_ any +inducement. + + [_She looks down._ + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). She is a singularly bewitching creature; +and I'm starving. Why _shouldn't_ I stay--if only to shame these +Culverins? It will be an experience--a study in life. I can always go +afterwards. I _will_ stay. (_Aloud._) You little know the sacrifice +you ask of me, but enough; I give way. We shall meet--(_with a +gulp_)--in the housekeeper's room! + +_Phillipson_ (_highly amused_). You _are_ a comical little man. You'll +be the death of me if you go on like that! + + [_She flits away._ + +_Undershell_ (_alone_). I feel disposed to be the death of _somebody_! +Oh, Lady Maisie Mull, to what a bathos have you lured your poet by +your artless flattery--a banquet presided over by your aunt's butler! + + + + +PART VII + +IGNOTUM PRO MIRIFICO + + + _The Amber Boudoir at Wyvern immediately after_ Lady CANTIRE + _and her daughter have entered_. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_in reply to_ Lady CULVERIN). Tea? oh yes, my dear; +anything _warm_! I'm positively perished--that tedious cold journey +and the long drive afterwards! I always tell Rupert he would see me +_far_ oftener at Wyvern if he would only get the company to bring the +line round close to the park gates, but it has _no_ effect upon him! +(_As_ TREDWELL _announces_ SPURRELL, _who enters in trepidation_.) Mr. +James Spurrell! Who's Mr.----? Oh, to be sure; _that's_ the name of my +interesting young poet--_Andromeda_, you know, my dear! Go and be +pleasant to him, Albinia, he wants reassuring. + +_Lady Culverin_ (_a trifle nervous_). How do you do, +Mr.--ah--Spurrell? (_To herself._) I _said_ he ended in "ell"! +(_Aloud._) So pleased to see you! We think so much of your +_Andromeda_ here, you know. Quite delightful of you to find time to +run down! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Why, _she's_ chummy, too! Old Drummy pulls +me through everything! (_Aloud._) Don't name it, my la--hum--Lady +Culverin. No trouble at all; only too proud to get your summons! + +_Lady Culverin_ (_to herself_). He doesn't seem very revolutionary! +(_Aloud._) That's so sweet of you; when so many must be absolutely +fighting to get you! + +_Spurrell._ Oh, as for that, there _is_ rather a run on me just now, +but I put everything else aside for _you_, of course! + +_Lady Culverin_ (_to herself_). He's soon _reassured_. (_Aloud, with a +touch of frost._) I am sure we must consider ourselves most fortunate. +(_Turning to the Countess._) You _did_ say cream, Rohesia? Sugar, +Maisie dearest? + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I'm all right up to now! I suppose I'd +better say nothing about the horse till _they_ do. I feel rather out +of it among these nobs, though. I'll try and chum on to little Lady +Maisie again; she may have got over her temper by this time, and she's +the only one I know. (_He approaches her._) Well, Lady Maisie, here I +_am_, you see. I'd really no idea your aunt would be so friendly! I +say, you know, you don't mind _speaking_ to a fellow, do you? I've no +one else I can go to--and--and it's a bit strange at first, you know! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_colouring with mingled apprehension, vexation, and +pity_). If I can be of any help to you, Mr. Spurrell----! + +_Spurrell._ Well, if you'd only tell me what I ought to _do_! + +_Lady Maisie._ Surely that's very simple; do _nothing_; just take +everything quietly as it comes, and you _can't_ make any mistakes. + +_Spurrell_ (_anxiously_). And you don't think anybody'll see anything +out of the way in my being here like this? + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). I'm only too afraid they _will_! +(_Aloud._) You really _must_ have a little self-confidence. Just +remember that no one here could produce anything a millionth part as +splendid as your _Andromeda_! It's _too_ distressing to see you so +_appallingly_ humble! (_To herself._) There's Captain Thicknesse over +there--he _might_ come and rescue me; but he doesn't seem to care to! + +_Spurrell._ Well, you _do_ put some heart into me, Lady Maisie. I feel +equal to the lot of 'em now! + +_Pilliner_ (_to_ Miss SPELWANE). Is _that_ the poet? Why, but I +say--he's a _fraud_! Where's his matted head? He's not a bit ragged, +or rusty either. And why don't he dabble? Don't seem to know what to +do with his hands quite, though, _does_ he? + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_coldly_). He knows how to do some very exquisite +poetry with _one_ of them, at all events. I've been reading it, and +_I_ think it perfectly marvellous! + +_Pilliner._ I see what it is, you're preparing to turn his matted head +for him? I warn you you'll only waste your sweetness. That pretty +little Lady Maisie's annexed _him_. Can't you content yourself with +_one_ victim at a time? + +_Miss Spelwane._ Don't be so utterly idiotic! (_To herself._) If +Maisie imagines she's to be allowed to monopolise the only man in the +room worth talking to!---- + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself, as he watches_ Lady MAISIE). She is +lookin' prettier than ever! Forgotten me. Used to be friendly enough +once, though, till her mother warned me off. Seems to have a good deal +to say to that poet fellow; saw her colour up from here the moment he +came near; he's _begun_ Petrarchin', hang him! I'd cross over and +speak to her if I could catch her eye. Don't know, though; what's the +use? She wouldn't thank me for interruptin'. She likes these clever +chaps; don't signify to her if they _are_ bounders, I suppose. _I_'m +not intellectual. Gad, I wish I'd gone back to Aldershot! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_by the tea-table_). Why don't you make that woman of +yours send you up decent cakes, my dear? These are cinders. I'm afraid +you let her have too much of her own way. Now, tell me--who are your +party? Vivien Spelwane! Never have that girl to meet me again, I can't +_endure_ her; and that affected little ape of a Mr. Pilliner--h'm! Do +I see Captain Thicknesse? Now, I don't object to _him_. Maisie and he +used to be great friends.... Ah, how do you _do_, Captain Thicknesse? +Quite pleasant finding you here; such ages since we saw anything of +you! Why haven't you been near us all this time?... Oh, I may have +been out once or twice when you called; but you might have tried +again, _mightn't_ you? There, _I_ forgive you; you had better go and +see if you can make your peace with Maisie! + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself, as he obeys_). Doosid odd, Lady +Cantire comin' round like this. Wish she'd thought of it before. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_in a whisper_). He's always been such a favourite of +mine. They tell me his uncle, poor dear Lord Dunderhead, is _so_ +ill--felt the loss of his only son so terribly. Of course it will +make a great difference--in many ways. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_constrainedly to_ Lady MAISIE). How do you do? +Afraid you've forgotten me. + +_Lady Maisie._ Oh no, indeed! (_Hurriedly._) You--you don't know Mr. +Spurrell, I think? (_Introducing them._) Captain Thicknesse. + +_Captain Thicknesse._ How are you? Been hearin' a lot about you +lately. _Andromeda_, don't you know; and that kind of thing. + +_Spurrell._ It's wonderful what a hit she seems to have made--not that +I'm _surprised_ at it, either; I always knew---- + +_Lady Maisie_ (_hastily_). Oh, Mr. Spurrell, you haven't had any tea! +_Do_ go and get some before it's taken away. + + [SPURRELL _goes_. + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Been tryin' to get you to notice me ever since +you came; but you were so awfully absorbed, you know! + +_Lady Maisie._ Was I? So absorbed as all that! What with? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Well, it looked like it--with talkin' to your +poetical friend. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_flushing_). He is not _my_ friend in particular; I--I +admire his poetry, of course. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). Can't even speak of him without +a change of colour. Bad sign that! (_Aloud._) You always _were_ keen +about poetry and literature and that in the old days, weren't you? +Used to rag me for not readin' enough. But I do now. I was readin' a +book only last week. I'll tell you the name if you give me a minute to +think--book everybody's readin' just now--no end of a clever book. + + [Miss SPELWANE _rushes across to_ Lady MAISIE. + +_Miss Spelwane._ Maisie, dear, how are you? You look _so_ tired! +That's the journey, I suppose. (_Whispering._) Do tell me--is that +really the author of _Andromeda_ drinking tea close by? You're a +_great_ friend of his, I know. Do be a dear, and introduce him to me! +I declare the dogs have made friends with him already. Poets have such +a wonderful attraction for animals, haven't they? + + [Lady MAISIE _has to bring_ SPURRELL _up and introduce + him_; Captain THICKNESSE _chooses to consider himself + dismissed_. + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_with shy adoration_). Oh, Mr. Spurrell, I feel as if +I _must_ talk to you about _Andromeda_. I _did_ so admire it! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Another of 'em! They seem uncommonly sweet +on "bulls" in this house! (_Aloud._) Very glad to hear you say so, I'm +sure. But I'm bound to say she's about as near perfection as anything +_I_ ever--I dare say you went over her points---- + +_Miss Spelwane._ Indeed, I believe none of them were lost upon me; but +my poor little praise must seem so worthless and ignorant! + +_Spurrell_ (_indulgently_). Oh, I wouldn't say _that_. I find some +ladies very knowing about these things. I'm having a picture done of +her. + +_Miss Spelwane._ Are you really? _How_ delightful! As a frontispiece? + +_Spurrell._ Eh? Oh no--full length, and sideways--so as to show her +legs, you know. + +_Miss Spelwane._ Her legs? Oh, of _course_--with "her roseal toes +cramped." I thought that such a _wonderful_ touch! + +_Spurrell._ They're not more cramped than they ought to be; she never +turned them _in_, you know! + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_mystified_). I didn't suppose she did. And now tell +me--if it's not an indiscreet question--when do you expect there'll be +another edition? + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Another addition! _She's_ cadging for a pup +now! (_Aloud._) Oh--er--really--couldn't say. + +_Miss Spelwane._ I'm sure the first must be disposed of by this time. +I shall look out for the next _so_ eagerly! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Time I "off"ed it. (_Aloud._) Afraid I +can't say anything definite--and, excuse me leaving you, but I think +Lady Culverin is looking my way. + +_Miss Spelwane._ Oh, by all _means_? (_To herself._) I might as well +praise a pillar-post! And after spending quite half an hour reading +him up, too! I wonder if Bertie Pilliner was right; but I shall have +him all to myself at dinner. + +_Lady Cantire._ And where is Rupert? too busy of _course_ to come and +say a word! Well, some day he may understand what a sister is--when +it's too late. Ah, here's our nice unassuming young poet coming up to +talk to you. Don't _repel_ him, my dear! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Better give her the chance of telling me +what's wrong with the horse, I suppose. (_Aloud._) Er--nice +old-fashioned sort of house this, Lady Culverin. (_To himself._) I'll +work round to the stabling by degrees. + +_Lady Culverin_ (_coldly_). I believe it dates from the Tudors--if +that is what you mean. + +_Lady Cantire._ My dear Albinia, I _quite_ understand him; +"old-fashioned" is _exactly_ the epithet. And I was born and brought +up here, so perhaps I should know. + + [_A footman enters, and comes up to_ SPURRELL _mysteriously._ + +_Footman._ Will you let me have your keys, if you please, sir? + +_Spurrell_ (_in some alarm_). My keys! (_Suspiciously._) Why, what do +you want _them_ for? + + [Illustration: "MY KEYS! WHY, WHAT DO YOU WANT THEM FOR?"] + +_Lady Cantire_ (_in a whisper_). Isn't he _deliciously_ +unsophisticated? Quite a child of nature! (_Aloud._) My dear Mr. +Spurrell, he wants your keys to unlock your portmanteau and put out +your things; you'll be able to dress for dinner all the quicker. + +_Spurrell._ Do you mean--am I to have the honour of sitting down to +table with all of _you_? + +_Lady Culverin_ (_to herself_). Oh, my goodness, what _will_ Rupert +say? (_Aloud._) Why, of course, Mr. Spurrell; how can you ask? + +_Spurrell_ (_feebly_). I--I didn't know, that was all. (_To_ Footman.) +Here you are, then. (_To himself._) Put out my things?--he'll find +nothing to put out except a nightgown, sponge bag, and a couple of +brushes! If I'd only known I should be let in for this, I'd have +brought dress-clothes. But how _could_ I? I--I wonder if it would be +any good telling 'em quietly how it is. I shouldn't like 'em to think +I hadn't got any. (_He looks at_ Lady CANTIRE _and her sister-in-law, +who are talking in an undertone_.) No, perhaps I'd better let it +alone. I--I can allude to it in a joky sort of way when I come down! + + + + +PART VIII + +SURPRISES--AGREEABLE AND OTHERWISE + + + _In the Amber Boudoir._ Sir RUPERT _has just entered_. + +_Sir Rupert._ Ha, Maisie, my dear, glad to see you! Well, Rohesia, how +are you, eh? You're _looking_ uncommonly well! No idea you were here! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Sir Rupert! He'll hoof me out of this +pretty soon, I expect! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_aggrieved_). We have been in the house for the best +part of an hour, Rupert--as you might have discovered by +inquiring--but no doubt you preferred your comfort to welcoming so +unimportant a guest as your sister! + +_Sir Rupert_ (_to himself_). Beginning already! (_Aloud._) Very +sorry--got rather wet riding--had to change everything. And I knew +Albinia was here. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_magnanimously_). Well, we won't begin to quarrel the +moment we meet; and you are forgetting your other guest. (_In an +undertone._) Mr. Spurrell--the poet--wrote _Andromeda_. (_Aloud._) Mr. +Spurrell, come and let me present you to my brother. + +_Sir Rupert._ Ah, how d'ye do? (_To himself, as he shakes hands._) +What the deuce am I to say to this fellow? (_Aloud._) Glad to see you +here, Mr. Spurrell--heard all about you--_Andromeda_, eh? Hope you'll +manage to amuse yourself while you're with us; afraid there's not much +you can do _now_ though. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Horse in a bad way; time they let me see +it. (_Aloud._) Well, we must see, sir; I'll do all _I_ can. + +_Sir Rupert._ You see, the shooting's _done_ now. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself, professionally piqued_). They might have +waited till I'd seen the horse before they shot him! After calling me +in like this! (_Aloud._) Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Sir Rupert. I +wish I could have got here earlier, I'm sure. + +_Sir Rupert._ Wish we'd asked you a month ago, if you're fond of +shooting. Thought you might look down on sport, perhaps. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Sport? Why, he's talking of _birds_--not +the horse! (_Aloud._) Me, Sir Rupert? Not _much_! I'm as keen on a +day's gunning as any man, though I don't often get the chance now. + +_Sir Rupert_ (_to himself, pleased_). Come, he don't seem strong +against the Game Laws! (_Aloud._) Thought you didn't look as if you +sat over your desk all day! There's hunting still, of course. Don't +know whether you ride? + +_Spurrell._ Rather so, sir! Why, I was born and bred in a sporting +county, and as long as my old uncle was alive, I could go down to his +farm and get a run with the hounds now and again. + +_Sir Rupert_ (_delighted_). Capital! Well, our next meet is on +Tuesday--best part of the country; nearly all grass, and nice clean +post and rails. You must stay over for it. Got a mare that will carry +your weight perfectly, and I think I can promise you a run--eh, what +do you say? + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself, in surprise_). He _is_ a chummy old cock! +I'll wire old Spavin that I'm detained on biz; and I'll tell 'em to +send my riding-breeches and dress-clothes down! (_Aloud._) It's +uncommonly kind of you, sir, and I think I can manage to stop on a +bit. + +_Lady Culverin_ (_to herself_). Rupert must be out of his senses! It's +bad enough to have him here till Monday! (_Aloud._) We mustn't forget, +Rupert, how valuable Mr. Spurrell's time is; it would be too selfish +of us to detain him here a day longer than---- + +_Lady Cantire._ My dear, Mr. Spurrell has already said he can _manage_ +it; so we may all enjoy his society with a clear conscience. (Lady +CULVERIN _conceals her sentiments with difficulty_.) And now, Albinia, +if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to my room and rest a little, as +I'm rather overdone, and you have all these tiresome people coming to +dinner to-night. + + [_She rises and leaves the room; the other ladies follow + her example._ + +_Lady Culverin._ Rupert, I'm going up now with Rohesia. You know where +we've put Mr. Spurrell, don't you? The Verney Chamber. + + [_She goes out._ + +_Sir Rupert._ Take you up now, if you like, Mr. Spurrell--it's only +just seven, though. Suppose you don't take an hour to dress, eh? + +_Spurrell._ Oh dear no, sir, nothing like it! (_To himself._) Won't +take me two minutes as I am now! I'd better tell him--I can say my bag +hasn't come. I don't believe it _has_, and, anyway, it's a good +excuse. (_Aloud._) The--the fact is, Sir Rupert, I'm afraid that my +luggage has been unfortunately left behind. + +_Sir Rupert._ No luggage, eh? Well, well, it's of no consequence. But +I'll ask about it--I dare say it's all right. + + [_He goes out._ + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to_ SPURRELL). Sure to have turned up, you +know--man will have seen that. Shouldn't altogether object to a glass +of sherry and bitters before dinner. Don't know how _you_ +feel--suppose you've a soul _above_ sherry and bitters, though? + +_Spurrell._ Not at this moment. But I'd soon _put_ my soul above a +sherry and bitters if I got a chance! + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_after reflection_). I say, you know, that's +rather smart, eh? (_To himself._) Aw'fly clever sort of chap, this, +but not stuck up--not half a bad sort, if he _is_ a bit of a bounder. +(_Aloud._) Anythin' in the evenin' paper? Don't get 'em down here. + + [Illustration: "I SAY, YOU KNOW, THAT'S RATHER SMART, EH?"] + +_Spurrell._ Nothing much. I see there's an objection to Monkey-tricks. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_startled_). No, by Jove! Hope they'll overrule +it--make a lot of difference to me if they don't. + +_Spurrell._ Don't fancy there's much in it. Your money's safe enough, +I expect. Have you any particular fancy for the Grand National? I know +something that's safe to win, bar accidents--a dead cert, sir! Got the +tip straight from the stable. You just take my advice, and pile all +you can on Jumping Joan. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_later, to himself, after a long and highly +interesting conversation_). Thunderin' clever chap--never knew poets +_were_ such clever chaps. Might be a "bookie," by Gad! No wonder +Maisie thinks such a lot of him! + + [_He sighs._ + +_Sir Rupert_ (_returning_). Now, Mr. Spurrell, if you'll come upstairs +with me, I'll show you your quarters. By the way, I've made inquiries +about your luggage, and I think you'll find it's all right. (_As he +leads the way up the staircase._) Rather awkward for you if you'd had +to come down to dinner just as you are, eh? + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Oh, lor, my beastly bag _has_ come after +all! Now they'll _know_ I didn't bring a dress suit. What an owl I was +to tell him! (_Aloud, feebly._) Oh--er--very awkward indeed, Sir +Rupert! + +_Sir Rupert_ (_stopping at a bedroom door_). Verney Chamber--here you +are. Ah, my wife forgot to have your name put on the door--better do +it now, eh? (_He writes it on the card in the door-plate._) +There--well, hope you'll find it all comfortable--we dine at eight, +you know. You've plenty of time for all you've got to do! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). If I only knew _what_ to do! I shall never +have the cheek to come down as I am! + + [_He enters the Verney Chamber dejectedly._ + + + _In an Upper Corridor in the East Wing._ + +_Steward's Room Boy_ (to UNDERSHELL). This is your room, sir--you'll +find a fire lit and all. + +_Undershell_ (_scathingly_). A fire? For me! I scarcely expected such +an indulgence. You are _sure_ there's no mistake? + +_Boy._ This is the room I was told, sir. You'll find candles on the +mantelpiece, and matches. + +_Undershell._ Every luxury indeed! I am pampered--_pampered_! + +_Boy._ Yes, sir. And I was to say as supper's at ar-past nine, but +Mrs. Pomfret would be 'appy to see you in the Pugs' Parlour whenever +you pleased to come down and set there. + +_Undershell._ The Pugs' Parlour? + +_Boy._ What we call the 'ousekeeper's room, among ourselves, sir. + +_Undershell._ Mrs. Pomfret does me too much honour. And shall I have +the satisfaction of seeing your intelligent countenance at the festive +board, my lad? + +_Boy_ (_giggling_). On'y to _wait_, sir. I don't set down to meals +along with the _upper_ servants, sir! + +_Undershell._ And I--a mere man of genius--_do_! These distinctions +must strike you as most arbitrary; but restrain any natural envy, my +young friend. I assure you I am not puffed up by this promotion! + +_Boy._ No, sir. (_To himself, as he goes out._) I believe he's a bit +dotty, I do. I don't understand a word he's been a-talking of! + +_Undershell_ (_alone, surveying the surroundings_). A cockloft, with a +painted iron bedstead, a smoky chimney, no bell, and a text over the +mantelpiece! Thank Heaven, that fellow Drysdale can't see me here! But +I will not sleep in this place, my pride will only just bear the +strain of staying to supper--no more. And I'm hanged if I go down to +the housekeeper's room till hunger drives me. It's not eight yet--how +shall I pass the time? Ha, I see they've favoured me with pen and ink. +I will invoke the Muse. Indignation should make verses, as it did for +Juvenal; and _he_ was never set down to sup with slaves! + + [_He writes._ + + + _In the Verney Chamber._ + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). My word, what a room! Carpet hung all over +the walls, big fourposter, carved ceiling, great fireplace with +blazing logs,--if this is how they do a _vet_ here, what price the +_other_ fellows' rooms? And to think I shall have to do without +dinner, just when I was getting on with 'em all so swimmingly! I +_must_. I can't, for the credit of the profession--to say nothing of +the firm--turn up in a monkey jacket and tweed bags, and that's all +_I've_ got except a nightgown!... It's all very well for Lady Maisie +to say, "Take everything as it comes," but if she was in _my_ fix!... +And it isn't as if I hadn't _got_ dress things either. If only I'd +brought 'em down, I'd have marched in to dinner as cool as a---- (_he +lights a pair of candles._) Hullo! What's that on the bed? (_He +approaches it._) Shirt! white tie! socks! coat, waistcoat, +trousers--they _are_ dress clothes!... And here's a pair of brushes on +the table! I'll swear they're not _mine_--there's a monogram on +them--"U.G." What does it all mean? Why, of course! regular old trump, +Sir Rupert, and naturally he wants me to do him credit. He saw how it +was, and he's gone and rigged me out! In a house like this, they're +ready for emergencies--keep all sizes in stock, I dare say.... It +isn't "U.G." on the brushes--it's "G.U."--"Guest's Use." Well, this is +what I call doing the thing in style! _Cinderella's_ nothing to it! +Only hope they're a decent fit. (_Later, as he dresses._) Come, the +shirt's all right; trousers a trifle short--but they'll let down; +waistcoat--whew, must undo the buckle--hang it, it _is_ undone! I feel +like a hooped barrel in it! Now the coat--easy does it. Well, it's +_on_; but I shall have to be peeled like a walnut to get it off +again.... Shoes? ah, here they are--pair of pumps. Phew--must have +come from the Torture Exhibition in Leicester Square; glass slippers +nothing to 'em! But they'll have to do at a pinch; and they _do_ pinch +like blazes! Ha, ha, that's good! I must tell that to the Captain. +(_He looks at himself in a mirror._) Well, I can't say they're up to +mine for cut and general style; but they're passable. And now I'll go +down to the drawing-room and get on terms with all the smarties! + + [_He saunters out with restored complacency._ + + + + +PART IX + +THE MAUVAIS QUART D'HEURE + + _In the Chinese Drawing-room at Wyvern._ TIME--7.50. Lady + CULVERIN _is alone, glancing over a written list_. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_entering_). Down already, Albinia? I _thought_ if I +made haste I should get a quiet chat with you before anybody else came +in. What is that paper? Oh, the list of couples for Rupert. May I see? +(_As_ Lady CULVERIN _surrenders it_.) My dear, you're _not_ going to +inflict that mincing little Pilliner boy on poor Maisie! That really +_won't do_. At least let her have somebody she used to. Why not +Captain Thicknesse? He's an old friend, and she's not seen him for +months. I must alter that, if you've no objection. (_She does._) And +then you've given my poor poet to that Spelwane girl! Now, _why_? + +_Lady Culverin._ I thought she wouldn't mind putting up with him just +for one evening. + +_Lady Cantire._ Wouldn't _mind_! Putting up with him! And is that how +you speak of a celebrity when you are so fortunate as to have one to +entertain? _Really_, Albinia! + +_Lady Culverin._ But, my dear Rohesia, you must allow that, whatever +his talents may be, he is not--well, not _quite_ one of Us. Now, _is_ +he? + +_Lady Cantire_ (_blandly_). My dear, I never heard he had any +connection with the manufacture of chemical manures, in which your +worthy papa so greatly distinguished himself--if _that_ is what you +mean. + +_Lady Culverin_ (_with some increase of colour_). That is _not_ what I +meant, Rohesia--as you know perfectly well. And I do say that this Mr. +Spurrell's manner is most objectionable; when he's not obsequious, +he's horribly familiar! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_sharply_). I have not observed it. He strikes me as +well enough--for that class of person. And it is intellect, soul, all +that kind of thing that _I_ value. I look _below_ the surface, and I +find a great deal that is very original and charming in this young +man. And surely, my dear, if I find myself able to associate with him, +_you_ need not be so fastidious! I consider him my _protégé_, and I +won't have him slighted. He is far too good for Vivien Spelwane! + +_Lady Culverin_ (_with just a suspicion of malice_). Perhaps, Rohesia, +you would like him to take _you_ in? + +_Lady Cantire._ That, of course, is quite out of the question. I see +you have given me the Bishop--he's a poor, dry stick of a man--never +forgets he was the Headmaster of Swisham--but he's always glad to meet +_me_. I freshen him up so. + +_Lady Culverin._ I really don't know whom I _can_ give Mr. Spurrell. +There's Rhoda Cokayne, but she's not poetical, and she'll get on much +better with Archie Bearpark. Oh, I forgot Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris--she's +sure to _talk_, at all events. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_as she corrects the list_). A lively, agreeable +woman--she'll amuse him. _Now_ you can give Rupert the list. + + [Sir RUPERT _and various members of the house-party appear + one by one_; Lord _and_ Lady LULLINGTON, _the_ Bishop + of BIRCHESTER _and_ Mrs. RODNEY, Mr. _and_ Mrs. EARWAKER, + _and_ Mr. SHORTHORN _are announced at intervals; + salutations, recognitions, and commonplaces are exchanged_. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_later--to the_ Bishop, _genially_). Ah, my dear +Bishop, you and I haven't met since we had our great battle +about--now, was it the necessity of throwing open the Public Schools +to the lower classes--for whom of course they were originally +_intended_--or was it the failure of the Church to reach the working +man? I really forget. + +_The Bishop_ (_who has a holy horror of the_ Countess). I--ah--fear I +cannot charge my memory so precisely, my dear Lady Cantire. +We--ah--differ unfortunately on so many subjects. I trust, however, we +may--ah--agree to suspend hostilities on this occasion? + +_Lady Cantire_ (_with even more bonhomie_). Don't be too sure of +_that_, Bishop. I've several crows to pluck with you, and we are to go +in to dinner together, you know! + +_The Bishop._ Indeed? I had no conception that such a pleasure was in +store for me! (_To himself._) This must be the penance for breaking my +rule of never dining out on Saturday! Severe--but not unmerited! + +_Lady Cantire._ I wonder, Bishop, if you have seen this wonderful +volume of poetry that every one is talking about--_Andromeda_? + +_The Bishop_ (_conscientiously_). I chanced only this morning, by way +of momentary relaxation, to take up a journal containing a notice of +that work, with copious extracts. The impression left on my mind +was--ah--unfavourable; a certain talent, no doubt, some felicity of +expression, but a noticeable lack of the--ah--reticence, the +discipline, the--the scholarly touch which a training at one of our +great Public Schools (I forbear to particularise), and at a +University, can alone impart. I was also pained to observe a crude +discontent with the existing Social System--a system which, if not +absolutely perfect, cannot be upset or even modified without the +gravest danger. But I was still more distressed to note in several +passages a decided taint of the morbid sensuousness which renders so +much of our modern literature sickly and unwholesome. + +_Lady Cantire._ All prejudice, my dear Bishop; why, you haven't even +_read_ the book! However, the author is staying here now, and I feel +convinced that if you only knew him, you'd alter your opinion. Such an +unassuming, inoffensive creature! There, he's just come in. I'll call +him over here.... Goodness, why does he shuffle along in that way! + +_Spurrell_ (_meeting_ Sir RUPERT). Hope I've kept nobody waiting for +_me_, Sir Rupert. (_Confidentially._) I'd rather a job to get these +things on; but they're really a wonderful fit, considering! + + [_He passes on, leaving his host speechless._ + + [Illustration: "I'D RATHER A JOB TO GET THESE THINGS ON; BUT + THEY'RE REALLY A WONDERFUL FIT, CONSIDERING!"] + +_Lady Cantire._ That's right, Mr. Spurrell. Come here, and let me +present you to the Bishop of Birchester. The Bishop has just been +telling me he considers your _Andromeda_ sickly, or unhealthy, or +something. I'm sure you'll be able to convince him it's nothing of the +sort. + + [_She leaves him with the_ Bishop, _who is visibly annoyed_. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself, overawed_). Oh, Lor! Wish I knew the right +way to talk to a Bishop. Can't call _him_ nothing--so doosid familiar. +(_Aloud._) _Andromeda_ sickly, your--(_tentatively_)--your Right +Reverence? Not a bit of it--sound as a roach! + +_The Bishop._ If I had thought my--ah--criticisms were to be +repeated--I might say misrepresented, as the Countess has thought +proper to do, Mr. Spurrell, I should not have ventured to make them. +At the same time, you must be conscious yourself, I think, of certain +blemishes which would justify the terms I employed. + +_Spurrell._ I never saw any in _Andromeda_ myself, your--your +Holiness. You're the first to find a fault in her. I don't say there +mayn't be something dicky about the setting and the turn of the tail, +but that's a trifle. + +_The Bishop._ I did not refer to the setting of the tale, and the +portions I object to are scarcely trifles. But pardon me if I prefer +to end a discussion that can hardly be other than unprofitable. (_To +himself, as he turns on his heel._) A most arrogant, self-satisfied, +and conceited young man--a truly lamentable product of this +half-educated age! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Well, he may be a dab at dogmas--he don't +know much about dogs. Drummy's got a constitution worth a dozen of +_his_! + +_Lady Culverin_ (_approaching him_). Oh, Mr. Spurrell, Lord Lullington +is most anxious to know you. If you will come with me. (_To herself, +as she leads him up to_ Lord LULLINGTON.) I do _wish_ Rohesia wouldn't +force me to do this sort of thing! + + [_She presents him._ + +_Lord Lullington_ (_to himself_). I suppose I _ought_ to know all +about his novel, or whatever it is he's done. (_Aloud, with +courtliness._) Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Spurrell; +you've--ah--delighted the world by your _Andromeda_. When are we to +look for your next production? Soon, I hope. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). _He's_ after a pup now! Never met such a +doggy lot in my life! (_Aloud._) Er--well, my lord, I've promised so +many as it is, that I hardly see my way to---- + +_Lord Lullington_ (_paternally_). Take my advice, my dear young man, +leave yourself as free as possible. Expect you to give us your best, +you know. + + [_He turns to continue a conversation._ + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). _Give_ it! He won't get it under a +five-pound note, I can tell him. (_He makes his way to_ Miss +SPELWANE.) I say, what do you think the old Bishop's been up to? +Pitching into _Andromeda_ like the very dooce--says she's _sickly_! + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_to herself_). He brings his literary disappointments +to _me_, not Maisie! (_Aloud, with the sweetest sympathy._) How +dreadfully unjust! Oh, I've dropped my fan--no, pray don't trouble; I +can pick it up. My arms are so long, you know--like a kangaroo's--no, +what is that animal which has such long arms? You're so clever, you +_ought_ to know! + +_Spurrell._ I suppose you mean a gorilla? + +_Miss Spelwane._ How crushing of you! But you must go away now, or +else you'll find nothing to say to me at dinner--you take me in, you +know. I hope you feel privileged. _I_ feel---- But if I told you, I +might make you too conceited! + +_Spurrell_ (_gracefully_). Oh, it's not so easily done as all _that_! + + [Sir RUPERT _approaches with_ Mr. SHORTHORN. + +_Sir Rupert._ Vivien, my dear, let me introduce Mr. Shorthorn--Miss +Spelwane. (_To_ SPURRELL.) Let me see--ha--yes, you take in Mrs. +Chatteris. Don't know her? Come this way, and I'll find her for you. + + [_He marches_ SPURRELL _off_. + +_Mr. Shorthorn_ (_to_ Miss SPELWANE). Good thing getting this rain at +last; a little more of this dry weather and we should have had no +grass to speak of! + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_who has not quite recovered from her +disappointment_). And now you _will_ have some grass to speak of? +_How_ fortunate! + +_Spurrell_ (_as dinner is announced, to_ Lady MAISIE). I say, Lady +Maisie, I've just been told I've got to take in a married lady. _I_ +don't know what to talk to her about. I should feel a lot more at home +with you. Couldn't we work it somehow? + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). What a fearful suggestion--but I simply +_daren't_ snub him! (_Aloud._) I'm afraid, Mr. Spurrell, we must both +put up with the partners we have; most distressing, isn't it--_but_! + + [_She gives a little shrug._ + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_immediately behind her, to himself_). Gad, +_that's_ pleasant! I knew I'd better have gone to Aldershot! +(_Aloud._) I've been told off to take you in, Lady Maisie--not _my_ +fault, don't you know. + +_Lady Maisie._ There's no need to be so apologetic about it. (_To +herself._) Oh, I _hope_ he didn't hear what I said to that wretch! + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Well, I rather thought there _might_ be, +perhaps. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). He _did_ hear it. If he's going to be so +stupid as to misunderstand, I'm sure _I_ shan't explain. + + [_They take their place in the procession to the + dining-hall._ + + + + +PART X + +BORROWED PLUMES + + + _In_ UNDERSHELL'S _Bedroom in the East Wing at Wyvern_. + TIME--_About_ 9 P.M. + +_The Steward's Room Boy_ (_knocking and entering_). Brought you up +some 'ot water, sir, case you'd like to clean up afore supper. + +_Undershell._ I presume evening dress is not indispensable in the +housekeeper's room; but I can hardly make even the simplest toilet +until you are good enough to bring up my portmanteau. Where is it? + +_Boy._ I never 'eard nothink of no porkmanteau, sir! + +_Undershell._ You will hear a good deal about it, unless it is +forthcoming at once. Just find out what's become of it--a new +portmanteau, with a white star painted on it. + + [_The Boy retires, impressed. An interval._ + +_Boy_ (_reappearing_). I managed to get a few words with Thomas, our +second footman, just as he was coming out o' the 'all, and _he_ sez +the only porkmanteau with a white star was took up to the Verney +Chamber, which Thomas unpacked it hisself. + +_Undershell._ Then tell Thomas, with my compliments, that he will +trouble himself to pack it again immediately. + +_Boy._ But Thomas has to wait at table, and besides, he says as he +laid out the dress things, and the gen'lman as is in the Verney +Chamber is a wearin' of 'em now, sir. + +_Undershell_ (_indignant_). But they're _mine_! Confound his +impudence! Here, I'll write him a line at once. (_He scribbles a +note._) There, see that the gentleman of the Verney Chamber gets this +at once, and bring me his answer. + +_Boy._ What! _me_ go into the dinin'-'all, with all the swells at +table? I dursn't. I should get the sack from old Treddy. + +_Undershell._ I don't care who takes it so long as it _is_ taken. Tell +Thomas it's _his_ mistake, and he must do what he can to put it right. +Say I shall certainly complain if I don't get back my clothes and +portmanteau. Get that note delivered somehow, and I'll give you +half-a-crown. (_To himself, as the_ Boy _departs, much against his +will._) If Lady Culverin doesn't consider me fit to appear at her +dinner-table, I don't see why my evening clothes should be more +privileged! + + _In the Dining-hall. The table is oval_; SPURRELL _is + placed between_ Lady RHODA COKAYNE _and_ Mrs. + BROOKE-CHATTERIS. + +_Mrs. Chatteris_ (_encouragingly, after they are seated_). Now, I +shall expect you to be very brilliant and entertaining. _I_'ll do all +the listening for once in a way--though, generally, I can talk about +all manner of silly things with _anybody_! + +_Spurrell_ (_extremely ill at ease_). Oh--er--I should say you were +quite equal to _that_. But I really can't think of anything to talk +_about_. + +_Mrs. Chatteris._ That's a bad beginning. I always find the _menu_ +cards such a good subject, when there's anything at all out of the +common about them. If they're ornamented, you _can_ talk about +them--though not for _very_ long at a time, don't you think? + +_Spurrell_ (_miserably_). I can't say how long I could go on about +_ornamented_ ones--but these are plain. (_To himself._) I can hear +this waistcoat going already--and we're only at the soup! + +_Mrs. Chatteris._ It _is_ a pity. Never mind; tell me about literary +and artistic people. Do you know, I'm rather glad I'm not literary or +artistic myself; it seems to make people so _queer-looking_, somehow. +Oh, of course I didn't mean _you_ looked queer--but _generally_, you +know. You've made quite a success with your _Andromeda_, haven't you? +I only go by what I'm told--I don't read much myself. We women have so +many really serious matters to attend to--arranging about dinners, and +visits, and trying on frocks, and then rushing about from party to +party. I so seldom get a quiet moment. Ah, I knew I wanted to ask you +something. Did you ever know any one called Lady Grisoline? + +_Spurrell._ Lady--er--Grisoline? No; can't say I do. I know Lady +Maisie, that's all. + +_Mrs. Chatteris._ Oh, and _she_ was the original? Now, that _is_ +exciting! But I should hardly have recognised her--"lanky," you know, +and "slanting green eyes." But I suppose you see everybody differently +from other people? It's having so much imagination. I dare say _I_ +look green or something to you now--though really I'm _not_. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I don't understand more than about half +she's saying. (_Aloud._) Oh, I don't see anything particularly green +about _you_. + +_Mrs. Chatteris_ (_only partially pleased_). I wonder if you meant +that to be complimentary--no, you needn't explain. Now, tell me, is +there any news about the Laureateship? Who's going to get it? Will it +be Swinburne or Lewis Morris? + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Never heard of the stakes or the horses +either. (_Aloud._) Well, to tell you the truth, I haven't been +following their form--too many of these small events nowadays. + +_Mrs. Chatteris_ (_to herself_). It's quite amusing how jealous these +poets are of one another! (_Aloud._) Is it true they get a butt of +sherry given them for it? + +_Spurrell._ I've heard of winners getting a bottle or two of champagne +in a bucket--not sherry. But a little stimulant won't hurt a crack +when he comes in, provided it's not given him too soon; wait till he's +got his wind and done blowing, you know. + +_Mrs. Chatteris._ I'm taking that in. I know it's very witty and +satirical, and I dare say I shall understand it in time. + +_Spurrell._ Oh, it doesn't matter much if you don't. (_To himself._) +Pleasant kind of woman--but a perfect fool to talk to! + +_Mrs. Chatteris_ (_to herself_). I've always _heard_ that clever +writers are rather stupid when you meet them--it's quite true. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). I should like her to see that +I've got some imagination in me, though she _does_ think me such an +ass. (_Aloud, to_ Lady MAISIE.) Jolly old hall this is, with the +banners, and the gallery, and that--makes you fancy some of those old +mediæval Johnnies in armour--knights, you know--comin' clankin' in and +turnin' us all out. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). I do trust Mr. Spurrell isn't saying +something too dreadful. I'm sure I heard my name just now. (_Aloud, +absently, to_ Captain THICKNESSE.) No, did you _really_? How amusing +it must have been! + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_aggrieved_). If you'd done me the honour of +payin' any attention to what I was sayin', you'd have found out it +_wasn't_ amusin'. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_starting_). Oh, _wasn't_ it? I'm so sorry I missed it. +I--I'm afraid I was thinking of something else. Do tell me again! + +_Captain Thicknesse_, (_still hurt_). No, I won't inflict it on +you--not worth repeatin'. And I should only be takin' off your +attention from a fellow that _does_ know how to talk. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_with a guiltiness which she tries to carry off under +dignity_). I don't think I understand what you mean. + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Well, I couldn't help hearin' what you said to +your poet-friend before we went in about having to put up with +partners; and it isn't what you may call flattering to a fellow's +feelin's, being put up with. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_hotly_). It--it was not intended for you. You entirely +misunderstood! + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Dare say I'm very dense; but, even to _my_ +comprehension, it's plain enough that the reason why you weren't +listenin' to me just now was that the poet had the luck to say +somethin' that you found more interesting. + +_Lady Maisie._ You are _quite_ wrong--it's too absurd; I never even +met Mr. Spurrell in my life till this afternoon. If you really _must_ +know, I heard him mention my name, and--and I wondered, naturally, +what he could possibly be saying. + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Somethin' very charmin', and poetical, and +complimentary, I'm sure, and I'm makin' you lose it all. +Apologise--shan't happen again. + +_Lady Maisie._ Please be sensible, and let us talk of something else. +Are you staying here long? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ You will be gratified to hear I leave for +Aldershot to-morrow. Meant to have gone to-day. Sorry I _didn't_ now. + +_Lady Maisie._ I think it was a thousand pities you didn't, as you +seem to have stayed on purpose to be as stupid and unkind as you +possibly can. + + [_She turns to her other neighbour_, Lord LULLINGTON. + +_Mrs. Chatteris_ (_to_ Captain THICKNESSE, _who is on her other +side_). Oh, Captain Thicknesse, what _do_ you think Mr. Spurrell has +just told me? You remember those lines to Lady Grisoline that Mr. +Pilliner made such fun of this morning? Well, they were meant for Lady +Maisie! They're quite old friends, it seems. _So_ romantic! Wouldn't +you like to know how they came to meet? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Can't say I'm particularly curious--no affair of +mine, don't you know. (_To himself._) And she told me they'd never met +before! Sooner I get back the better. Only in the way here. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_turning to him_). Well, are you as determined to be as +disagreeable as ever? Oh yes, I see you are! + +_Captain Thicknesse._ I'm hurt, that's what it is, and I'm not clever +at hiding my feelin's. Fact is, I've just been told somethin' +that--well, it's no business of _mine_, only you _might_ have been a +little more frank with an old friend, instead of leavin' it to come +through somebody else. These things always come out, you know. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). That wretch _has_ been talking! I knew +he would! (_Aloud._) I--I know I've been very foolish. If I was to +tell you some time---- + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_hastily_). Oh, no reason why you should tell me +anything. Assure you, I--I'm not curious. + +_Lady Maisie._ In that case I shall certainly not trouble you. (_To +herself._) He may think just what he pleases, _I_ don't care. But, oh, +if Mr. Spurrell dares to speak to me after this, I shall astonish him! + +_Lady Rhoda_ (_to_ SPURRELL). I say--I _am_ in a funk. Only just heard +who I'm next to. I always do feel such a perfect fool when I've got to +talk to a famous person--and you're _frightfully_ famous, aren't you? + +_Spurrell_ (_modestly_). Oh, I don't know--I suppose I _am_, in a sort +of way, through _Andromeda_. Seem to think so _here_, anyhow. + +_Lady Rhoda._ Well, I'd better tell you at once, I'm no good at +poetry--can't make head or tail of it, some'ow. It does seem to me +such--well, such footle. Awf'ly rude of me sayin' things like that! + + [Illustration: "IT DOES SEEM TO ME SUCH--WELL, SUCH FOOTLE."] + +_Spurrell._ Is it? I'm just the same--wouldn't give a penny a yard for +poetry, myself! + +_Lady Rhoda._ You wouldn't? I _am_ glad. _Such_ a let-off for me! I +was afraid you'd want to talk of nothin' else, and the only things I +can really talk about are horses and dogs, and that kind of thing. + +_Spurrell._ That's all right, then. All I don't know about dogs and +horses you could put in a homoeopathic globule--and _then_ it would +rattle! + +_Lady Rhoda._ Then you're just the man. Look here, I've an Airedale at +home, and he's losin' all his coat and---- + + [_They converse with animation._ + +_Spurrell_ (_later--to himself_). I am getting on. I always knew I +was made for Society. If only this coat was easier under the arms! + +_Thomas_ (_behind him--in a discreet whisper_). Beg your pardon, +sir, but I was requested to 'and you this note, and wait for an +answer. + +_Spurrell_ (_opening it, and reading_). "Mr. Galfrid Undershell thinks +that the gentleman who is occupying the Verney Chamber has, doubtless +by inadvertence, put on Mr. Undershell's evening clothes. As he +requires them immediately, he will be obliged by an early appointment +being made, with a view to their return." (_To himself._) Oh, Lor! +Then it _wasn't_ Sir Rupert, after all! Just when I was beginning to +enjoy my evening, too. What on earth am I to say to this chap? I +_can't_ take 'em all off here! + + [_He sits staring at the paper in blank dismay._ + + + + +PART XI + +TIME AND THE HOUR + + + _In the Dining-hall._ + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself, uncomfortably conscious of the expectant_ +THOMAS _in his rear_). Must write _something_ to this beggar, I +suppose; it'll keep him quiet. (_To_ Mrs. BROOKE-CHATTERIS.) I--I just +want to write a line or two. Could you oblige me with a lead pencil? + +_Mrs. Chatteris._ You are really going to write! At a dinner-party, of +all places! Now _how_ delightfully original and unconventional of you! +I promise not to interrupt till the inspiration is over. Only, really, +I'm afraid I don't carry lead pencils about with me--so bad for one's +frocks, you know! + +_Thomas_ (_in his ear_). I can lend you a pencil, sir, if you require +one. + + [_He provides him with a very minute stump._ + +_Spurrell_ (_reading what he has written on the back of_ UNDERSHELL'S +_missive_). "Will be in my room (Verney Chamber) as soon after ten as +possible. + + "J. SPURRELL." + +(_He passes the paper to_ THOMAS _surreptitiously_.) There, take him +that. + + [THOMAS _retires_. + +_Archie_ (_to himself_.) The calm cheek of these writin' chaps! I saw +him takin' notes under the table! Lady Rhoda ought to know the sort of +fellow he is--and she shall! (_To_ Lady RHODA, _in an aggrieved +undertone_.) I should advise you to be jolly careful what you say to +your other neighbour; he's takin' it all down. I just caught him +writin'. He'll be bringing out a satire, or whatever he calls it, on +us all by and bye--you see if he won't! + +_Lady Rhoda._ What an ill-natured boy you are! Just because _he_ can +write, and you _can't_. And I don't believe he's doing anythin' of the +sort. I'll ask him--_I_ don't care! (_Aloud, to_ SPURRELL.) I say, I +know I'm awfully inquisitive--but I do want to know so--you've just +been writin' notes or somethin', haven't you? Mr. Bearpark declares +you're goin' to take them all off here--you're not really, _are_ you? + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). That sulky young chap has spotted it! +(_Aloud, stammering._) I--take everything off? _Here!_ I--I assure +you I should never even _think_ of doing anything so indelicate! + +_Lady Rhoda._ I was sure that was what you'd say! But still (_with +reviving uneasiness_), I suppose you _have_ made use of things that +happened just to fit your purpose, haven't you? + +_Spurrell_ (_penitently_). All I can say is, that--if I have--you +won't catch me doing it _again_! And other people's things _don't_ +fit. I'd much rather have my own. + +_Lady Rhoda_ (_relieved_). Of course! But I'm glad you told me. (_To_ +ARCHIE, _in an undertone_.) I _asked_ him--and, as usual, you were +utterly wrong. So you'll please not to be a pig! + +_Archie_ (_jealously_). And you're goin' to go on talkin' to him all +through dinner? Pleasant for me--when I took you down! + +_Lady Rhoda._ You want to be taken down yourself, I think. And I mean +to talk to him if I choose. You can talk to Lady Culverin--she likes +boys! (_Turning to_ SPURRELL.) I was goin' to ask you--ought a +schipperke to have meat? Mine won't touch puppy biscuits. + + [SPURRELL _enlightens her on this point_; ARCHIE _glowers_. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_perceiving that the_ Bishop _is showing signs of +restiveness_). Well, Bishop, I wish I could find you a little more +ready to listen to what the other side has to say! + +_The Bishop_ (_who has been "heckled" to the verge of his endurance._) +I am--ah--not conscious of any unreadiness to enter into conversation +with the very estimable lady on my other side, should an opportunity +present itself. + +_Lady Cantire._ Now, that's one of your quibbles, my dear Bishop, and +I detest quibbling! But at least it shows you haven't a leg to stand +upon. + +_The Bishop._ Precisely--nor to--ah--run away upon, dear lady. I am +wholly at your mercy, you perceive! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_triumphantly_). Then you _admit_ you're beaten? Oh, I +don't despair of you _yet_, Bishop. + +_The Bishop._ I confess I am less sanguine. (_To himself._) Shall I +have strength to bear these buffets with any remains of Christian +forbearance through three more courses? Ha, thank Heaven, the salad! + + [_He cheers up at the sight of this olive-branch._ + +_Mrs. Earwaker_ (_to_ PILLINER). Now, I don't altogether approve of +the New Woman myself; but still, I am glad to see how women are +beginning to assert themselves and come to the front; surely you +sympathise with all that? + +_Pilliner_ (_plaintively_). No, really I _can't_, you know! I'd so +much rather they _wouldn't_. They've made us poor men feel positively +obsolete! They'll snub us out of existence soon--our sex will be +extinct--and then they'll be sorry. There'll be nobody to protect them +from one another! After all, we can't help being what we are. It isn't +_my_ fault that I was born a Man Thing--now, _is_ it? + +_Lady Cantire_ (_overhearing this remark_). Well, if it _is_ a fault, +Mr. Pilliner, we must all acknowledge that you've done everything in +your power to correct it! + +_Pilliner_ (_sweetly_). How nice and encouraging of you, dear Lady +Cantire, to take up the cudgels for me like that! + + [Lady CANTIRE _privately relieves her feelings by + expressing a preference for taking up a birch rod, and + renews her attack on the_ Bishop. + +_Mr. Shorthorn_ (_who has been dragging his mental depths for a fresh +topic--hopefully, to_ Miss SPELWANE). By the bye, I haven't asked you +what you thought about these--er--revolting daughters? + +_Miss Spelwane._ No, you haven't; and I thought it _so_ considerate of +you. + + [Mr. SHORTHORN _gives up dragging, in discouragement_. + +_Pilliner_ (_sotto voce, to_ Miss SPELWANE). Have you quite done +sitting on that poor unfortunate man? _I_ heard you! + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_in the same tone_). I'm afraid I _have_ been rather +beastly to him. But, oh, he _is_ such a bore--he _would_ talk about +his horrid "silos," till I asked him whether they would eat out of his +hand. After that, the subject dropped--somehow. + +_Pilliner._ I see you've been punishing him for not happening to be a +distinguished poet. I thought _he_ was to have been the fortunate man? + +_Miss Spelwane._ So he was; but they changed it all at the last +moment; it really was rather provoking. I _could_ have talked to +_him_. + +_Pilliner._ Lady Rhoda appears to be consoling him. Poor dear old +Archie's face is quite a study. But really I don't see that his poetry +is so very wonderful; no more did _you_ this morning! + +_Miss Spelwane._ Because you deliberately picked out the worst bits, +and read them as badly as you could! + +_Pilliner._ Ah, well, he's here to read them for himself now. I dare +say he'd be delighted to be asked. + +_Miss Spelwane._ Do you know, Bertie, that's rather a good idea of +yours. I'll ask him to read us something to-night. + +_Pilliner_ (_aghast_). To-night! With all these people here? I say, +they'll never _stand_ it, you know. + + [Lady CULVERIN _gives the signal_. + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_as she rises_). They ought to feel it an immense +privilege. I know _I_ shall. + +_The Bishop_ (_to himself, as he rises_). Port in sight--at last! But, +oh, _what_ I have had to suffer! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_at parting_). Well, we've had quite one of our old +discussions. I always enjoy talking to _you_, Bishop. But I haven't +_yet_ got at your reasons for voting as you did on the Parish Councils +Bill; we must go into that upstairs. + +_The Bishop_ (_with strict veracity_). I shall be--ah--all impatience, +Lady Cantire. (_To himself._) I fervently trust that a repetition of +this experience may yet be spared me! + + [Illustration: "I SHALL BE--AH--ALL IMPATIENCE, LADY + CANTIRE."] + +_Lady Rhoda_ (_as she leaves_ SPURRELL). You will tell me the name of +the stuff upstairs, won't you? So very much ta! + +_Archie_ (_to himself_). I'd like to tar him very much, and feather +him too, for cuttin' me out like this! (_The men sit down_; SPURRELL +_finds himself between_ ARCHIE _and_ Captain THICKNESSE, _at the +further end of the table_; ARCHIE _passes the wine to_ SPURRELL _with +a scowl_.) What are you drinkin'? Claret? What do you do your writin' +on, now, as a general thing? + +_Spurrell_ (_on the defensive_). On paper, sir, when I've any to do. +Do you do yours on a _slate_? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ I say, that's rather good. Had you there, +Bearpark! + +_Spurrell_ (_to_ ARCHIE, _lowering his voice_). Look here, I see +you're trying to put a spoke in my wheel. You saw me writing at +dinner, and went and told that young lady I was going to take +everything off there and then, which you must have known I wasn't +likely to do. Now, sir, it's no business of yours that I can see; but, +as you seem to be interested, I may tell you that I shall go up and do +it in my own room, as soon as I leave this table, and there will be no +fuss or publicity about it whatever. I hope you're satisfied now? + +_Archie._ Oh, _I_'m satisfied. (_He rises._) Left my cigarette-case +upstairs--horrid bore--must go and get it. + +_Captain Thicknesse._ They'll be bringing some round in another +minute. + +_Archie._ Prefer my own. (_To himself, as he leaves the hall._) I knew +I was right. That bounder _is_ meaning to scribble some rot about us +all! He's goin' straight up to his room to do it.... Well, he may find +a little surprise when he gets there! + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). Mustn't let this poet fellow +think I'm jealous; dare say, after all, there's nothing serious +between them. Not that it matters to me; any way, I may as well talk +to him. I wonder if he knows anything about steeplechasin'. + + [_He discovers that_ SPURRELL _is not unacquainted with + this branch of knowledge_. + + + _In a Corridor leading to the Housekeeper's Room._ + + TIME--9.30 P.M. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). If I wasn't absolutely compelled by sheer +hunger, I would not touch a morsel in this house. But I can't get my +things back till after ten. As soon as ever I do, I will insist on a +conveyance to the nearest inn. In the meantime I must sup. After all, +no one need know of this humiliating adventure. And if I _am_ +compelled to consort with these pampered menials, I think I shall know +how to preserve my dignity--even while adapting myself to their level. +And that girl will be there--a distinctly redeeming fact in the +situation. I will be easy--affable, even; I will lay aside all foolish +pride; it would be unreasonable to visit their employer's snobbery +upon their unoffending heads. I hear conversation inside this room. +This must be the door. I--I suppose I had better go in. + + [_He enters._ + + + + +PART XII + +DIGNITY UNDER DIFFICULTIES + + + _In the Housekeeper's Room at Wyvern_; Mrs. POMFRET, _the + Housekeeper, in a black silk gown and her smartest cap, is + seated in a winged armchair by the fire, discussing domestic + politics with_ Lady CULVERIN'S _maid_, Miss STICKLER. _The + Chef_, M. RIDEVOS, _is resting on the sofa, in languid + converse with_ Mlle. CHIFFON, Miss SPELWANE'S _maid_; + PILLINER'S _man_, LOUCH, _watches_ STEPTOE, Sir RUPERT'S + _valet, with admiring envy, as he makes himself agreeable to_ + Miss PHILLIPSON, _who is in demi-toilette, as are all the + other ladies' maids present_. + +_Miss Stickler_ (_in an impressive undertone_). All I _do_ say, Mrs. +Pomfret, ma'am, is this: if that girl Louisa marches into the pew +to-morrow, as she did _last_ Sunday, before the second laundry +maid--and her only under-scullery maid--such presumptiousness should +be put a stop to in future! + +_Mrs. Pomfret_ (_wheezily_). Depend upon it, my dear, it's her +ignorance; but I shall most certainly speak about it. Girls must be +taught that ranks was made to be respected, and the precedency into +that pew has come down from time immemoriable, and is not to be set +aside by such as her while _I_'m 'ousekeeper here. + +_Mlle. Chiffon_ (_in French, to_ M. RIDEVOS). You have the air +fatigued, my poor friend! Oh, there--but fatigued! + +_M. Ridevos._ Broken, Mademoiselle, absolutely broken. But what will +you? This night I surpass myself. I achieve a masterpiece--a sublime +pyramid of quails with a sauce that will become classic. I pay now the +penalty of a veritable crisis of nerves. It is of my temperament as +artist. + + [Illustration: "BROKEN, MADEMOISELLE, ABSOLUTELY BROKEN."] + +_Mlle. Chiffon._ And me, my poor friend, how I have suffered from the +cookery of these others--I who have the stomach so feeble, so +fastidious! Figure to yourself an existence upon the villainous curry, +the abominable "Iahristue," beloved by these barbarians, but which +succeed with me not at all--oh, but not at all! Since I am here--ah, +the difference! I digest as of old--I am gay. But next week to return +with mademoiselle to the curry, my poor friend, what regrets! + +_M. Ridevos._ For me, dear mademoiselle, for me the regrets--to hear +no more the conversation, so spiritual, so sympathetic, of a +fellow-countrywoman. For remark that here they are stupid--they +comprehend not. And the old ones they roll at me the eyes to make +terror. Behold this Gorgon who approaches. She adores me, my word of +honour, this ruin! + + [Miss STICKLER _comes up to the sofa smiling in happy + unconsciousness_. + +_Miss Stickler_ (_graciously_). So you've felt equal to joining us for +once, Mossoo! We feel it a very 'igh compliment, I can assure you. +We've really been feeling quite 'urt at the way you keep to +yourself--you might be a regular 'ermit for all _we_ see of you! + +_M. Ridevos._ For invent, dear Mees, for create, ze arteeste must live +ze solitaire as of rule. To-night--no! I emairge, as you see, to +res-tore myself viz your smile. + +_Miss Stickler_ (_flattered_). Well, I've always said, Mossoo, and I +always _will_ say, that for polite 'abits and pretty speeches, give +_me_ a Frenchman! + +_M. Ridevos_ (_alarmed_). For me it is too moch 'appiness. For +anozzer, ah! + + [_He kisses his fingers with ineffable grace._ + +_Phillipson_ (_advancing to meet_ Miss DOLMAN, _who has just +entered_). Why, I'd no idea I should meet _you_ here, Sarah! And how +have you been getting on, dear? Still with----? + +_Miss Dolman_ (_checking her with a look_). Her grace? No, we parted +some time ago. I'm with Lady Rhoda Cokayne at present. (_In an +undertone, as she takes her aside._) You needn't say anything here of +your having known me at Mrs. Dickenson's. I couldn't afford to have it +get about in the circle I'm in that I'd ever lived with any but the +nobility. I'm sure you see what I mean. Of course I don't mind your +saying we've _met_. + +_Phillipson._ Oh, I _quite_ understand. I'll say nothing. I'm obliged +to be careful myself, being maid to Lady Maisie Mull. + +_Miss Dolman._ My _dear_ Emma! It _is_ nice seeing you again--such +_friends_ as we used to be! + +_Phillipson._ At her Grace's? I'm afraid you're thinking of somebody +else. (_She crosses to_ Mrs. POMFRET.) Mrs. Pomfret, what's become of +the gentleman I travelled down with--the horse doctor? I do hope he +means to come in; he would amuse _you_, Mr. Steptoe. I never heard +anybody go on like him; he _did_ make me laugh so! + +_Mrs. Pomfret._ I really can't say _where_ he is, my dear. I sent up +word to let him know he was welcome here whenever he pleased; but +perhaps he's feeling a little shy about coming down. + +_Phillipson._ Oh, I don't think he suffers much from _that_. (_As the +door opens._) Ah, _there_ he is! + +_Mrs. Pomfret_ (_rising, with dignity, to receive_ UNDERSHELL, _who +enters in obvious embarrassment_). Come in, sir. I'm glad to see +you've found your way down at last. Let me see, I haven't the +advantage of knowing your--Mr. Undershell, _to_ be sure! Well, Mr. +Undershell, we're very pleased to see you. I hope you'll make yourself +quite at home. Her ladyship gave particular directions that we was to +look after you--_most_ particular she was! + +_Undershell._ You are very good, ma'am. I am obliged to Lady Culverin +for her (_with a gulp_) condescension. But I shall not trespass more +than a short time upon your hospitality. + +_Mrs. Pomfret._ Don't speak of it as trespassing, sir. It's not often +we have a gentleman of your profession as a visitor, but you are none +the less welcome. Now I'd better introduce you all round, and then you +won't feel yourself a stranger. Miss Phillipson you _have_ met, I +know. + + [_She introduces him to the others in turn_; UNDERSHELL + _bows helplessly_. + +_Steptoe_ (_with urbanity_). Your fame, sir, has preceded you. And +you'll find us a very friendly and congenial little circle on a better +acquaintance--if this is your first experience of this particular form +of society? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I mustn't be stiff, I'll put them at +their ease. (_Aloud._) Why, I must admit, Mr. Steptoe, that I have +never before had the privilege of entering the--(_with an ingratiating +smile all round him_) the "Pugs' Parlour," as I understand you call +this very charming room. + + [_The company draw themselves up and cough in + disapprobation._ + +_Steptoe_ (_very stiffly_). Pardon _me_, sir, you have been totally +misinformed. Such an expression is not current _here_. + +_Mrs. Pomfret_ (_more stiffly still_). It is never alluded to in _my_ +presence except as the 'ousekeeper's room, which is the right and +proper name for it. There may be some other term for it in the +servants' 'all for anything _I_ know to the contrary--but, if you'll +excuse me for saying so, Mr. Undershell, we'd prefer for it not to be +repeated in _our_ presence. + +_Undershell_ (_confusedly_). I--I beg ten thousand pardons. (_To +himself._) To be pulled up like this for trying to be genial--it's +really _too_ humiliating! + +_Steptoe_ (_relaxing_). Well, well, sir; we must make some allowances +for a neophyte. You'll know better another time, _I_ dare say. Miss +Phillipson here has been giving you a very favourable character as a +highly agreeable rattle, Mr. Undershell. I hope we may be favoured +with a specimen of your social talents later on. We're always grateful +here for anything in that way--such as a recitation now, or a comic +song, or a yumorous imitation--anything, in short, calculated to +promote the general harmony and festivity will be appreciated. + +_Miss Stickler_ (_acidly_). Provided it is free from any helement of +coarseness, which we do _not_ encourage--far from it! + +_Undershell_ (_suppressing his irritation_). You need be under no +alarm, madam. I do not propose to attempt a performance of _any_ kind. + +_Phillipson._ Don't be so solemn, Mr. Undershell! I'm sure you can be +as comical as any play-actor when you choose! + +_Undershell._ I really don't know how I can have given you that +impression. If you expect me to treat my lyre like a _horse-collar_, +and grin through it, I'm afraid I am unable to gratify you. + +_Steptoe_ (_at sea_). Capital, sir, the professional allusion very +neat. You'll come out presently, _I_ can see, when supper's on the +table. Can't expect you to rattle till you've something _inside_ of +you, can we? + +_Miss Stickler._ Reelly, Mr. Steptoe, I _am_ surprised at such +commonness from _you_! + +_Steptoe._ Now you're too severe, Miss Stickler, you are indeed. An +innocent little Judy Mow like that! + +_Tredwell_ (_outside_). Don't answer _me_, sir. Ham I butler 'ere, or +ham I _not_? I've a precious good mind to report you for such a +hignorant blunder.... I don't want to hear another word about the +gentleman's cloes--you'd no hearthly business for to do such a thing +at all! (_He enters and flings himself down on a chair._) That Thomas +is beyond everything--stoopid _hass_ as he is! + +_Mrs. Pomfret_ (_concerned_). La, Mr. Tredwell, you _do_ seem put out! +Whatever have Thomas been doing _now_? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). It's really very good of him to take it +to heart like this! (_Aloud._) Pray don't let it distress you; it's of +no consequence, none at all! + +_Tredwell_ (_glaring_). I'm the best judge of that, Mr. Undershell, +sir--if you'll allow _me_; _I_ don't call my porogatives of no +consequence, whatever _you_ may! And that feller Thomas, Mrs. +Pomfret, actially 'ad the hordacity, without consulting me previous, +to go and 'and a note to one of our gentlemen at the hupstairs table, +all about some hassinine mistake he'd made with his cloes! What call +had he to take it upon himself? I feel puffecly disgraced that such a +thing should have occurred under my authority! + + [_The_ Steward's Room Boy _has entered with a dish, and + listens with secret anxiety on his own account_. + +_Undershell._ I assure you there is no harm done. The gentleman is +wearing my evening clothes--but he's going to return them---- + + [_The conclusion of the sentence is drowned in a roar of + laughter from the majority._ + +_Tredwell_ (_gasping_). Hevenin' cloes! _Your_ hevenin'---- P'raps +you'll 'ave the goodness to explain yourself, sir! + +_Steptoe._ No, no, Tredwell, my dear fellah, you don't understand our +friend here--he's a bit of a wag, don't you see? He's only trying to +pull your leg, that's all; and, Gad, he did it too! But you mustn't +take liberties with _this_ gentleman, Mr. Undershell; he's an +important personage _here_, I can tell you! + +_Undershell_ (_earnestly_). But I never meant--if you'll only let me +explain---- + + [_The_ Boy _has come behind him, and administers a + surreptitious kick, which_ UNDERSHELL _rightly construes + as a hint to hold his tongue_. + +_Tredwell_ (_in solemn offence_). I'm accustomed, Mr. Hundershell, to +be treated in this room with respect and deference--especially by them +as come here in the capacity of guests. _From_ such I regard any +attempt to pull my leg as in hindifferent taste--to say the least of +it. I wish to 'ave no more words on the subjick, which is a painful +one, and had better be dropped, for the sake of all parties. Mrs. +Pomfret, I see supper is on the table, so, by your leave, we had +better set down to it. + +_Phillipson_ (_to_ UNDERSHELL). Never mind _him_, pompous old thing! +It _was_ awfully cheeky of you, though. You can sit next _me_ if you +like. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself, as he avails himself of this permission_). +I shall only make things worse if I explain now. But, oh, great +Heavens, _what_ a position for a poet! + + + + +PART XIII + +WHAT'S IN A NAME? + + + _At the Supper-table in the Housekeeper's Room._ Mrs. POMFRET + _and_ TREDWELL _are at the head and foot of the table + respectively_. UNDERSHELL _is between_ Mrs. POMFRET and Miss + PHILLIPSON. _The_ Steward's Room Boy _waits_. + +_Tredwell._ I don't see Mr. Adams here this evening, Mrs. Pomfret. +What's the reason of that? + +_Mrs. Pomfret._ Why, he asked to be excused to-night, Mr. Tredwell. +You see some of the visitors' coachmen are putting up their horses +here, and he's helping Mr. Checkley entertain them. (_To_ UNDERSHELL.) +Mr. Adams is our stud-groom, and him and Mr. Checkley, the 'ed +coachman, are very friendly just now. Adams is very clever with his +horses, I believe, and I'm sure he'd have liked a talk with you; it's +a pity he's engaged elsewhere this evening. + +_Undershell_ (_mystified_). I--I'm exceedingly sorry to have missed +him, ma'am. (_To himself._) Is the stud-groom _literary_, I wonder?... +Ah, no, I remember now; I allowed Miss Phillipson to conclude that my +tastes were equestrian. Perhaps it's just as well the stud-groom +_isn't_ here! + +_Mrs. Pomfret._ Well, he _may_ drop in later on. I shouldn't be +surprised if you and he had met before. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). _I_ should. (_Aloud._) I hardly think +it's probable. + +_Mrs. Pomfret._ I've known stranger things than _that_ happen. Why, +only the other day, a gentleman came into this very room, as it might +be yourself, and it struck me he was looking very hard at me, and by +and bye he says, "You don't recollect _me_, ma'am, but I know _you_ +very well," says he. So I said to him, "You certainly have the +advantage of me at present, sir." "Well, ma'am," he says, "many years +ago I had the honour and privilege of being steward's room boy in a +house where you was still-room maid; and I consider I owe the position +I have since attained entirely to the good advice you used to give me, +as I've never forgot it, ma'am," says he. Then it flashed across me +who it was--"Mr. Pocklington!" says I. Which it _were_. And him own +man to the Duke of Dumbleshire! Which was what made it so very nice +and 'andsome of him to remember me all that time. + +_Undershell_ (_perfunctorily_). It must have been most gratifying, +ma'am. (_To himself._) I hope this old lady hasn't any more anecdotes +of this highly interesting nature. I mustn't neglect Miss +Phillipson--especially as I haven't very long to stay here. + + [_He consults his watch stealthily._ + +_Miss Phillipson_ (_observing the action_). I'm sorry you find it so +slow here; it's not very polite of you to show it quite so openly +though, I must say. + + [_She pouts._ + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I can't let this poor girl think me a +brute! But I must be careful not to go too far. (_To her, in an +undertone which he tries to render unemotional._) Don't misunderstand +me like that. If I looked at my watch, it was merely to count the +minutes that are left. In one short half-hour I must go--I must pass +out of your life, and you must forget--oh, it will be easy for +_you_--but for _me_, ah! you cannot think that I shall carry away a +heart entirely unscathed! Believe me, I shall always look back +gratefully, regretfully, on---- + +_Phillipson_ (_bending her head with a gratified little giggle_). I +declare you're beginning all that _again_. I never _did_ see such a +cure as you are. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself, displeased_). I wish she could bring +herself to take me a little more seriously. I can _not_ consider it a +compliment to be called a "cure"--whatever that is. + +_Steptoe_ (_considering it time to interfere_). Come, Mr. Undershell, +all this whispering reelly is not fair on the company! You mustn't +hide your bushel under a napkin like this; don't reserve _all_ your +sparklers for Miss Phillipson there. + +_Undershell_ (_stiffly_). I--ah--was not making any remark that could +be described as a sparkler, sir. I _don't_ sparkle. + +_Phillipson_ (_demurely_). He was being rather sentimental just then, +Mr. Steptoe, as it happens. Not that he can't sparkle, when he likes. +I'm sure if you'd heard how he went on in the fly! + +_Steptoe_ (_with malice_). Not having been privileged to be present, +perhaps our friend here could recollect a few of his happiest efforts +and repeat them. + +_Miss Dolman._ Do, Mr. Undershell, please. I do _love_ a good laugh. + +_Undershell_ (_crimson_). I--you really must excuse me. I said nothing +worth repeating. I don't remember that I was particularly---- + +_Steptoe._ Pardon me. Afraid I was indiscreet. We must spare Miss +Phillipson's blushes by all manner of means. + +_Phillipson._ Oh, it was nothing of _that_ sort, Mr. Steptoe! _I_'ve +no objection to repeat what he said. He called me a little green +something or other. No; he said _that_ in the train, though. But he +would have it that the old cab-horse was a magic steed, and the fly an +enchanted chariot; and I don't know what all. (_As nobody smiles._) It +sounded awfully funny as _he_ said it, with his face perfectly solemn +like it is now, I assure you it did! + +_Steptoe_ (_patronisingly_). I can readily believe it. We shall have +you contributing to some of our yumerous periodicals, Mr. Undershell, +sir, before long. Such facetious talent is too good to be lost, it +reelly is. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself, writhing_). I gave her credit for more +sense. To make me publicly ridiculous like this! + + [_He sulks._ + +_Miss Stickler_ (_to_ M. RIDEVOS, _who suddenly rises_). Mossoo, +you're not _going_! Why, whatever's the matter? + +_M. Ridevos._ Pairmeet zat I make my depart. I am cot at ze art. + + [_General outcry and sensation._ + +_Mrs. Pomfret_ (_concerned_). You never mean that, Mossoo? And a nice +dish of quails just put on, too, that they haven't even touched +upstairs! + +_M. Ridevos._ It is for zat I do not remmain! Zey 'ave not toch him; +my pyramide, result of a genius stupend, énorme! to zem he is +nossing; zey retturn him to crash me! To-morrow I demmand zat miladi +accept my demission. _Ici je souffre trop!_ + + [_He leaves the room precipitately._ + +_Miss Stickler_ (_offering to rise_). It _does_ seem to have upset +him! Shall I go after him and see if I can't bring him round? + +_Mrs. Pomfret_ (_severely_). Stay where you are, Harriet; he's better +left to himself. If he wasn't so wropped up in his cookery, he'd know +there's always a dish as goes the round untasted, without why or +wherefore. I've no _patience_ with the man! + +_Tredwell_ (_philosophically_). That's the worst of 'aving to do with +Frenchmen; they're so apt to beyave with a sutting childishness +that--(_checking himself_)--I really ask your pardon, mamsell, I quite +forgot you was of his nationality; though it ain't to be wondered at, +I'm sure, for you might pass for an Englishwoman almost anywhere! + +_Mlle. Chiffon._ As you for Frenchman, _hein_? + +_Tredwell._ No, 'ang it _all_, mamsell, I 'ope there's no danger o' +_that_! (_To_ Miss PHILLIPSON.) Delighted to see the Countess keeps as +fit as ever, Miss Phillipson! Wonderful woman for her time o' life! +Law, she _did_ give the Bishop beans at dinner, and no mistake! + +_Phillipson._ Her ladyship is pretty generous with them to most +people, Mr. Tredwell. I'm sure I'd have left her long ago, if it +wasn't for Lady Maisie--who _is_ a lady, if you like! + +_Tredwell._ She don't favour her ma, I will say _that_ for her. By the +way, who is the party they brought down with them? a youngish looking +chap--seemed a bit out of his helement, when he first come in, though +he's soon got over that, judging by the way him and your Lady Rhoda, +Miss Dolman, was 'obnobbing together at table! + +_Phillipson._ Nobody came down with _my_ ladies; they must have met +him in the bus, I expect. What is his name? + +_Tredwell._ Why, he give it to me, I know, when I enounced him; but +it's gone clean out of my head again. He's got the Verney Chamber, I +know _that_ much; but what _was_ his name again? I shall forget my own +next. + +_Undershell_ (_involuntarily_). In the Verney Chamber? Then the name +must be Spurrell! + +_Phillipson_ (_starting_). Spurrell! Why, _I_ used to---- But of course +it can't be _him_! + +_Tredwell._ Spurrell _was_ the name, though. (_With a resentful glare +at_ UNDERSHELL.) I don't know how _you_ came to be aware of it, sir! + +_Undershell._ Why, the fact is, I happened to find out that--(_here he +receives an admonitory drive in the back from the_ Boy)--that his name +_was_ Spurrell. (_To himself._) I wish this infernal boy wouldn't be +officious--but perhaps he's right! + +_Tredwell._ Ho, indeed! Well, _another_ time, Mr. Hundershell, if you +require information about parties staying with _us_, p'raps you'll be +good enough to apply to me pussonally, instead of picking it up in +some 'ole-and-corner fashion. (UNDERSHELL _controls his indignation +with difficulty_.) To return to the individual in question, Miss +Phillipson, I should have said myself he was something in the artistic +or littery way; he suttingly didn't give me the impression of being a +gentleman. + + [Illustration: "HE SUTTINGLY DIDN'T GIVE ME THE IMPRESSION OF + BEING A GENTLEMAN."] + +_Phillipson_ (_to herself, relieved_). Then it _isn't_ my Jem! I might +have known he wouldn't be visiting here, and carrying on with Lady +Rhodas. He'd never forget himself like that--if he _has_ forgotten me! + +_Steptoe._ It strikes me he's more of a sporting character, Tredwell. +I know when I was circulating with the cigarettes and so on, in the +hall just now, he was telling the Captain some anecdote about an old +steeplechaser that was faked up to win a selling handicap, and it +tickled me to that extent I could hardly hold the spirit-lamp steady. + +_Tredwell._ I may be mistook, Steptoe. All _I_ can say is, that when +me and James was serving cawfy to the ladies in the drawing-room, some +of them had got 'old of a little pink book all sprinkled over with +silver cutlets, and, rightly _or_ wrongly, I took it to 'ave some +connection with 'im. + +_Undershell_ (_excitedly_). Pink and silver! Might I ask--was it a +volume of poetry, called--er--_Andromeda_? + +_Tredwell_ (_crushingly_). That I did not take the liberty of +inquiring, sir, as you might be aware if you was a little more +familiar with the hetiquette of good society. + + [UNDERSHELL _collapses_; Mr. ADAMS _enters, and steps + into the chair vacated by the Chef, next to_ Mrs. + POMFRET, _with whom he converses_. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). To think that they may be discussing my +book in the drawing-room at this very moment, while I--I---- (_He +chokes._) Ah, it won't bear thinking of! I must--I _will_ get out of +this accursed place! I have stood this too long as it is! But I won't +go till I have seen this fellow Spurrell, and made him give me back my +things. What's the time? ... ten! I can go at last. (_He rises._) Mrs. +Pomfret, will you kindly excuse me? I--I find I must go at once. + +_Mrs. Pomfret._ Well, Mr. Undershell, sir, you're the best judge; and, +if you really can't stop, this is Mr. Adams, who'll take you round to +the stables himself, and do anything that's necessary. Won't you, Mr. +Adams? + +_Adams._ So you're off to-night, sir, are you? Well, I'd rather ha' +shown you Deerfoot by daylight, myself; but there, I dessay that won't +make much difference to _you_, so long as you _do_ see the 'orse? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). So Deerfoot's a _horse_! One of the +features of Wyvern, I suppose; they seem very anxious I shouldn't miss +it. _I_ don't want to see the beast; but I dare say it won't take many +minutes; and, if I don't humour this man, I shan't get a conveyance to +go away in! (_Aloud._) No difference whatever--to _me_. I shall be +delighted to be shown Deerfoot; only I really can't wait _much_ +longer; I--I've an appointment elsewhere! + +_Adams._ Right, sir; you get your 'at and coat, and come along with +me, and you shall see him at once. + + [UNDERSHELL _takes a hasty farewell of_ Miss PHILLIPSON + _and the company generally--none of whom attempts to + detain him--and follows his guide. As the door closes + upon them, he hears a burst of stifled merriment, amidst + which_ Miss PHILLIPSON'S _laughter is only too painfully + recognisable_. + + + + +PART XIV + +LE VÉTÉRINAIRE MALGRÉ LUI + + + _Outside the Stables at Wyvern._ TIME--_About_ 10 P.M. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself, as he follows_ ADAMS). Now is my time to +arrange about getting away from here. (_To_ ADAMS.) By the bye, I +suppose you can let me have a conveyance of some sort--after I've seen +the horse? I--I'm rather in a hurry. + +_Adams._ You'd better speak to Mr. Checkley about that, sir; it ain't +in _my_ department, you see. I'll fetch him round, if you'll wait here +a minute; he'd like to hear what you think about the 'orse. + + [_He goes off to the coachman's quarters._ + +_Undershell_ (_alone_). A very civil fellow this; he seems quite +anxious to show me this animal! There must be _something_ very +remarkable about it. + + [ADAMS _returns with_ CHECKLEY. + +_Adams._ Mr. Checkley, our 'ed coachman, Mr. Undershell. He's coming +in along with us to 'ear what you say, if you've no objections. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I must make a friend of this coachman, or +else---- (_Aloud._) I shall be charmed, Mr. Checkley. I've only a very +few minutes to spare; but I'm most curious to see this horse of yours. + +_Checkley._ He ain't one o' _my_ 'orses, sir. If he _'ad_ been---- But +there, I'd better say nothing about it. + +_Adams_ (_as he leads the way into the stables, and turns up the +gas_). There, sir, that's Deerfoot over there in the loose box. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). He seems to me much like any _other_ +horse! However, I can't be wrong in admiring. (_Aloud, as he inspects +him, through the rails._) Ah, indeed? he _is_ worth seeing! A +magnificent creature! + +_Adams_ (_stripping off_ Deerfoot's _clothing_). He's a good 'orse, +sir. Her ladyship won't trust herself on no other animal, not since +she 'ad the influenzy so bad. She'd take on dreadful if I 'ad to tell +her he wouldn't be fit for no more work, she would! + +_Undershell_ (_sympathetically_). I can quite imagine so. Not that he +seems in any danger of _that_! + +_Checkley_ (_triumphantly_). There, you 'ear that, Adams? The minute +he set eyes on the 'orse! + +_Adams._ Wait till Mr. Undershell has seen him move a bit, and see +what he says _then_. + +_Checkley._ If it was what _you_ think, he'd never be standing like he +is now, depend upon it. + +_Adams._ You _can't_ depend upon it. He 'eard us coming, and he's +quite artful enough to draw his foot back for fear o' getting a knock. +(_To_ UNDERSHELL.) I've noticed him very fidgety-like on his forelegs +this last day or two. + +_Undershell._ _Have_ you, though? (_To himself._) I hope he won't be +fidgety with his _hind_-legs. I shall stay outside. + +_Adams._ I cooled him down with a rubub and aloes ball, and kep 'im on +low diet; but he don't seem no better. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I didn't gather the horse was unwell. +(_Aloud._) Dear me! no better? You don't say so! + +_Checkley._ If you'd rubbed a little embrocation into the shoulder, +you'd ha' done more good, in _my_ opinion, and it's my belief as Mr. +Undershell here will tell you I'm right. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). Can't afford to offend the coachman! +(_Aloud._) Well, I dare say--er--embrocation _would_ have been better. + +_Adams._ Ah, that's where me and Mr. Checkley differ. According to +me, it ain't to do with the shoulder at all--it's a deal lower +down.... I'll 'ave him out of the box and you'll soon see what I mean. + +_Undershell_ (_hastily_). Pray don't trouble on my account. I--I can +see him capitally from where I am, thanks. + +_Adams._ You know best, sir. Only I thought you'd be better able to +form a judgment after you'd seen the way he stepped across. But if you +was to come in and examine the frog?-- I don't like the look of it +myself. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I'm sure _I_ don't. I've a horror of +reptiles. (_Aloud._) You're very good. I--I think I won't come in. The +place must be rather _damp_, mustn't it--for that? + +_Adams._ It's dry enough in 'ere, sir, as you may see; nor yet he +ain't been standing about in no wet. Still, there it _is_, you see! + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). What a fool he must be not to drive it +out! Of course it must annoy the horse. (_Aloud._) I don't see it; but +I'm quite willing to take your word for it. + +_Adams._ I don't know how you can _expect_ to see it, sir, without you +look inside of the 'oof for it. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). It's not alive--it's something _inside_ +the hoof. I suppose I ought to have known that. (_Aloud._) Just so; +but I see no necessity for looking inside the hoof. + +_Checkley._ In course he don't, or he'd ha' looked the very fust +thing, with all his experience. I 'ope you're satisfied _now_, Adams? + +_Adams._ I can't say as I am. I say as no man can examine a 'orse +thoroughly at that distance, be he who he may. And whether I'm right +or wrong, it 'ud be more of a satisfaction to me if Mr. Undershell was +to step in and see the 'oof for himself. + +_Checkley._ Well, there's sense in that, and I dessay Mr. Undershell +won't object to obliging you that far. + +_Undershell_ (_with reluctance_). Oh, with pleasure, if you make a +point of it. + + [_He enters the loose box delicately._ + +_Adams_ (_picking up one of the horse's feet_). Now, tell me how this +'ere 'oof strikes you. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). That hoof _can't_; but I'm not so sure +about the others. (_Aloud, as he inspects it._) Well--er--it seems to +me a very _nice_ hoof. + +_Adams_ (_grimly_). I was not arsking your opinion of it as a work of +_art_, sir. Do you see any narrering coming on, or do you not? That's +what I should like to get out of _you_! + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). Does this man suppose I _collect_ hoofs! +However, I'm not going to commit myself. (_Aloud._) H'm--well, I--I +rather agree with Mr. Checkley. + +_Checkley._ I knew he would! Now you've _got_ it, Adams! _I_ can see +Mr. Undershell knows what he's about. + +_Adams_ (_persistently_). But look at this 'ere pastern. You can't +deny there's puffiness there. How do you get over _that_? + +_Undershell._ If the horse is puffy, it's _his_ business to get over +it--not mine. + +_Adams_ (_aggrieved_). You may think proper to treat it light, sir; +but if you put your 'and down 'ere, above the coronet, you'll feel a +throbbing as plain as---- + +_Undershell._ Very likely. But I don't know, really, that it would +afford me any particular gratification if I _did_! + +_Adams._ Well, if you don't take _my_ view, I should ha' thought as +you'd want to feel the 'orse's pulse. + +_Undershell._ You are quite mistaken. I don't. (_To himself._) +Particularly as I shouldn't know where to find it. What a bore this +fellow is with his horse! + +_Checkley._ In course, sir, _you_ see what's running in Mr. Adams's +'ed all this time, what he's a-driving at, eh? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I only wish I did! This will require +tact. (_Aloud._) I--I could hardly avoid seeing _that_--could I? + +_Checkley._ _I_ should think not. And it stands to reason as a vet +like yourself'd spot a thing like navickler fust go off. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). A vet! They've been taking me for a vet +all this time! I can't have been so ignorant as I thought. I really +don't like to undeceive them--they might feel annoyed. (_Aloud, +knowingly._) To be sure, I--I spotted it at once. + +_Adams._ He _does_ make it out navicular after all! What did I tell +you, Checkley? Now p'raps you'll believe _me_! + +_Checkley._ I'll be shot if that 'orse has navickler, whoever says +so--there! + +_Adams_ (_gloomily_). It's the 'orse 'll 'ave to be shot; worse luck! +I'd ha' give something if Mr. Undershell could ha' shown I was wrong; +but there was very little doubt in _my_ mind what it was all along. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself, horrified_). I've been pronouncing this +unhappy animal's doom without knowing it! I must tone it down. +(_Aloud._) No--no, I never said he must be shot. There's no reason to +despair. It--it's quite a mild form of er--clavicular--not at all +infectious at present. And the horse has a splendid constitution. +I--I really think he'll soon be himself again, if we only--er--leave +Nature to do her work, you know. + +_Adams_ (_after a prolonged whistle_). Well, if Nature ain't better up +in her work than you seem to be, it's 'igh time she chucked it, and +took to something else. You've a lot to learn about navicular, _you_ +'ave, if you can talk such rot as that! + + [Illustration: "YOU'VE A LOT TO LEARN ABOUT NAVICULAR, YOU + 'AVE, IF YOU CAN TALK SUCH ROT AS THAT!"] + +_Checkley._ Ah, I've 'ad to do with a vet or two in my time, but I'm +blest if I ever come across the likes o' _you_ afore! + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I _knew_ they'd find me out! I must +pacify them. (_Aloud._) But, look here, I'm _not_ a vet. I never said +I _was_. It was your mistake entirely. The fact is, my--my good men, I +came down here because--well, it's unnecessary to explain now _why_ I +came. But I'm most anxious to get away, and if you, my dear Mr. +Checkley, could let me have a trap to take me to Shuntingbridge +to-night, I should feel extremely obliged. + + [CHECKLEY _stares, deprived of speech_. + +_Adams_ (_with a private wink to_ CHECKLEY). Certainly he will, sir. +I'm sure Checkley 'll feel proud to turn out, late as it is, to oblige +a gentleman with your remarkable knowledge of 'orseflesh. Drive you +over hisself in the broom and pair, _I_ shouldn't wonder! + +_Undershell._ _One_ horse will be quite sufficient. Very well, then. +I'll just run up and get my portmanteau, and--and one or two things of +mine, and if you will be round at the back entrance--don't trouble to +drive up to the _front_ door--as soon as possible, I won't keep you +waiting longer than I can help. Good evening, Mr. Adams, and many +thanks. (_To himself, as he hurries back to the house._) I've got out +of that rather well. Now, I've only to find my way to the Verney +Chamber, see this fellow Spurrell, and get my clothes back, and then I +can retreat with comfort, and even dignity! These Culverins shall +learn that there is at least _one_ poet who will not put up with their +insolent patronage! + +_Checkley_ (_to_ ADAMS). He _has_ got a cool cheek, and no mistake! +But if he waits to be druv over to Shuntingbridge till _I_ come round +for him, he'll 'ave to set on that portmanteau of his a goodish time! + +_Adams._ He did you pretty brown, I must say. To 'ear you crowing over +me when he was on your side. I could 'ardly keep from larfing! + +_Checkley._ I see he warn't no vet long afore you, but I let it go on +for the joke of it. It was rich to see you a-wanting him to feel the +'oof, and give it out navickler. Well, you got his opinion for what it +was wuth, so _you're_ all right! + +_Adams._ You think nobody knows anything about 'orses but yourself, +you do; but if you're meanin' to make a story out o' this against me, +why, I shall tell it _my_ way, that's all! + +_Checkley._ It was you he made a fool of, not me--and I can prove +it--there! + + [_They dispute the point, with rising warmth, for some + time._ + +_Adams_ (_calming down_). Well, see 'ere, Checkley, I dunno, come to +think of it, as either on us 'll show up partickler smart over this +'ere job; and it strikes me we'd better both agree to keep quiet about +it, eh? (CHECKLEY _acquiesces, not unwillingly_.) And I think I'll +take a look in at the 'ousekeeper's-room presently, and try if I can't +drop a hint to old Tredwell about that smooth-tongued chap, for it's +my belief he ain't down 'ere for no good! + + + + +PART XV + +TRAPPED! + + + _In a Gallery outside the Verney Chamber._ TIME--_About_ 10.15 + P.M. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself, as he emerges from a back staircase_). I +suppose this _is_ the corridor? The boy said the name of the room was +painted up over the door.... Ah, there it is; and, yes, Mr. Spurrell's +name on a card.... The door is ajar; he is probably waiting for me +inside. I shall meet him quite temperately, treat it simply as a---- +(_He enters; a waste-paper basket, containing an ingenious arrangement +of liquid and solid substances, descends on his head._) What the devil +do you mean, sir, by this outrageous----? All dark! Nobody here! Is +there a general conspiracy to insult me? Have I been lured up here for +a brutal---- (SPURRELL _bursts in_.) Ah, _there_ you are, sir! (_With +cold dignity, through the lattice-work of the basket._) Will you +kindly explain what this means? + +_Spurrell._ Wait till I strike a light. (_After lighting a pair of +candles._) Well, sir, if _you_ don't know why you're ramping about +like that under a waste-paper basket, I can hardly be expected to---- + +_Undershell._ I was determined not to remove it until somebody came +in; it fell on my head the moment I entered; it contained something in +a soap-dish, which has wetted my face. You may laugh, sir, but if this +is a sample of your aristocratic---- + +_Spurrell._ If you could only see yourself! But _I_'d nothing to do +with it, 'pon my word I hadn't; only just this minute got away from +the hall.... _I_ know! It's that sulky young beggar, Bearpark. I +remember he slipped off on some excuse or other just now. He must have +come in here and fixed that affair up for me--confound him! + +_Undershell._ I think _I_'m the person most entitled to---- But no +matter; it is merely one insult more among so many. I came here, sir, +for a purpose, as you are aware. + +_Spurrell_ (_ruefully_). Your dress clothes? All right, you shall have +them directly. I wouldn't have put 'em on if I'd known they'd be +wanted so soon. + +_Undershell._ I should have thought your own would have been more +comfortable. + +_Spurrell._ More comfortable! I believe you. Why, I assure you I feel +like a Bath bun in a baby's sock! But how was I to know? You shouldn't +leave your things about like that! + +_Undershell._ It is usual, sir, for people to come to a place like +this provided with evening clothes of their own. + +_Spurrell._ I know that as well as you do. Don't you suppose I'm +unacquainted with the usages of society! Why, I've stayed in +boarding-houses at the seaside many a time where it was _de rigger_ to +dress--even for high tea! But coming down, as I did, on business, it +never entered my head that I should want my dress suit. So, when I +found them all as chummy and friendly as possible, and expecting me to +dine as a matter of course,--why, I can tell you I was too jolly glad +to get hold of anything in the shape of a swallowtail and white choker +to be over particular! + +_Undershell._ You seem to have been more fortunate in your reception +than I. But then _I_ had not the advantage of being here in a business +capacity. + +_Spurrell._ Well, it wasn't that altogether. You see, I'm a kind of a +celebrity in my way. + +_Undershell._ I should hardly have thought _that_ would be a +recommendation here. + +_Spurrell._ I was surprised myself to find what a lot they thought of +it; but, bless you, they're all as civil as shopwalkers; and, as for +the ladies, why, the old Countess and Lady Maisie and Lady Rhoda +couldn't be more complimentary if I'd won the Victoria Cross, instead +of getting a first prize for breeding and exhibiting a bull-bitch at +Cruft's Dog show! + +_Undershell_ (_bitterly, to himself_). And this is our aristocracy! +They make a bosom friend of a breeder of dogs; and find a poet only +fit to associate with their servants! What a theme for a satirist! +(_Aloud._) I see nothing to wonder at. You possess precisely the +social qualifications most likely to appeal to the leisured class. + +_Spurrell._ Oh, there's a lot of humbug in it, mind you! Most of 'em +know about as much of the points of a bull as the points of a compass, +only they let on to know a lot because they think it's smart. And some +of 'em are after a pup from old Drummy's next litter. _I_ see through +all that, you know! + +_Undershell._ You are a cynic, I observe, sir. But possibly the nature +of the business which brings you here renders them---- + +_Spurrell._ That's the rummest thing about it. I haven't heard a word +about that yet. I'm in the veterinary profession, you know. Well, they +sent for me to see some blooming horse, and never even ask me to go +near it! Seems odd, don't it? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). _I_ had to go near the blooming horse! +Now I begin to understand; the very servants did not expect to find a +professional vet in any company but their own! (_Aloud._) I--I trust +that the horse will not suffer through any delay. + +_Spurrell._ So do I; but how do I know that some ignorant duffer +mayn't be treating him for the wrong thing? It may be all up with the +animal before I get a chance of seeing what I can do? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). If he knew how near I went to getting the +poor beast shot! But I needn't mention that now. + +_Spurrell._ I don't say it isn't gratifying to be treated like a +swell, but I've got my professional reputation to consider, you know; +and if they're going to take up all my time talking about +Andromeda---- + +_Undershell_ (_with a start_). Andromeda! They have been talking about +Andromeda? To you! Then it's _you_ who---- + +_Spurrell._ Haven't I been telling you? I should just jolly well +think they _have_ been talking about her! So you didn't know my bull's +name was Andromeda before, eh? But _you_ seem to have heard of her, +too! + +_Undershell_ (_slowly_). I--I _have_ heard of Andromeda--yes. + + [_He drops into a chair, dazed._ + +_Spurrell_ (_complacently_). It's curious how that bitch's fame seems +to have spread. Why, even the old Bishop---- But, I say, you're +looking rather queer; anything the matter with you, old fellow? + +_Undershell_ (_faintly_). Nothing--nothing. I--I feel a little giddy, +that's all. I shall be better presently. + + [_He conceals his face._ + +_Spurrell_ (_in concern_). It was having that basket down on your head +like that. Too bad! Here, I'll get you some water. (_He bustles +about._) I don't know if you're aware of it, old chap, but you're in a +regular _dooce_ of a mess! + +_Undershell_ (_motioning him away irritably_). Do you suppose I don't +know _that_? For Heaven's sake, don't speak to me! let me alone!... I +want to think--I want to think. (_To himself._) I see it all now! I've +made a hideous mistake! I thought these Culverins were deliberately---- +And all the time---- Oh, what an unspeakable idiot I've been!... And I +can't even explain!... The only thing to do is to escape before this +fellow suspects the truth. It's lucky I ordered that carriage! +(_Aloud, rising._) I'm all right now; and--and I can't stay here any +longer. I am leaving directly--directly! + +_Spurrell._ You must give me time to get out of this toggery, old +chap; you'll have to pick me out of it like a lobster! + +_Undershell_ (_wildly_). The clothes? Never mind them now. I can't +wait. Keep them! + +_Spurrell._ Do you really mean it, old fellow? If you _could_ spare +'em a bit longer, I'd be no end obliged. Because, you see, I promised +Lady Rhoda to come and finish a talk we were having, and they've taken +away my own things to brush, so I haven't a rag to go down in except +these; and they'd all think it so beastly rude if I went to bed now! + +_Undershell_ (_impatiently_). I tell you you may keep them, if you'll +only go away! + +_Spurrell._ But where am I to send the things to when I've done with +'em? + +_Undershell._ What do I---- Stay, here's my card. Send them to that +address. Now go and finish your evening! + +_Spurrell_ (_gratefully_). You _are_ a rattling good chap, and no +mistake! Though I'm hanged if I can quite make out what you're doing +here, you know! + +_Undershell._ It's not at all necessary that you _should_ make it out. +I am leaving immediately, and--and I don't wish Sir Rupert or Lady +Culverin to hear of this--you understand? + +_Spurrell._ Well, it's no business of mine; you've behaved devilish +well to me, and I'm not surprised that you'd rather not be seen in the +state you're in. I shouldn't like it myself! + +_Undershell._ State? _What_ state? + +_Spurrell._ Ah, I _wondered_ whether you knew. You'll see what I mean +when you've had a look at yourself in the glass. I dare say it'll come +off right enough. I can't stop. Ta, ta, old fellow, and thanks +awfully! + + [_He goes out._ + +_Undershell_ (_alone_). What does he mean? But I've no time to waste. +Where have they put my portmanteau? I can't give up _everything_. (_He +hunts round the room, and eventually discovers a door leading into a +small dressing-room._) Ah, it's in there. I'll get it out, and put my +things in. (_As he rushes back, he suddenly comes face to face with +his own reflection in a cheval glass._) Wh--who's that? Can this--this +piebald horror possibly be--_me_? How----? Ah, it was _ink_ in that +infernal basket--not water! And my hair's full of flour! I _can't_ go +into a hotel like this, they'd think I was an escaped lunatic! (_He +flies to a wash-hand stand, and scrubs and sluices desperately, after +which he inspects the result in the mirror._) It's not _nearly_ off +yet! Will _anything_ get rid of this streakiness? (_He soaps and +scrubs once more._) And the flour's caked in my hair now! I must brush +it all out before I am fit to be seen. (_He gradually, after infinite +toil, succeeds in making himself slightly more presentable._) Is the +carriage waiting for me all this time? (_He pitches things into his +portmanteau in a frantic flurry._) What's that? Some one's coming! + + [_He listens._ + + [Illustration: HE SUDDENLY COMES FACE TO FACE WITH HIS OWN + REFLECTION.] + +_Tredwell_ (_outside_). It's my conviction you've been telling me a +pack o' lies, you young rascal. For what hearthly business that feller +Undershell could 'ave in the Verney---- However, _I_'ll soon see how +it is. (_He knocks._) Is any one in 'ere? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself, distractedly_). He mustn't find me here! +Yet, where---- Ah, it's the only place! + + [_He blows out the candles, and darts into the dressing-room + as_ TREDWELL _enters_. + +_Tredwell._ The boy's right. He _is_ in here; them candles is +smouldering still. (_He relights one, and looks under the bed._) You'd +better come out o' that, Undershell, and give an account of +yourself--do you 'ear me?... He ain't under there! (_He tries the +dressing-room door_; UNDERSHELL _holds his breath, and clings +desperately to the handle_.) Very well, sir, I know you're _there_, +and I've no time to trouble with you at present, so you may as well +stay where you are till you're wanted. I've 'eard o' your goings-on +from Mr. Adams, and I shall 'ave to fetch Sir Rupert up to 'ave a talk +with you by and bye. + + [_He turns the key upon him, and goes._ + +_Undershell_ (_to himself, overwhelmed, as the butler's step is heard +retreating._) And I came down here to assert the dignity of +Literature! + + + + +PART XVI + +AN INTELLECTUAL PRIVILEGE + + + _In the Chinese Drawing-room._ TIME--_About_ 9.45 P.M. + +_Mrs. Earwaker._ Yes, dear Lady Lullington, I've always insisted on +each of my girls adopting a distinct line of her own, and the result +has been _most_ satisfactory. Louisa, my eldest, is literary; she had +a little story accepted not long ago by _The Milky Way_; then Maria is +musical--practices regularly three hours every day on her violin. +Fanny has become quite an expert in photography--kodaked her father +the other day in the act of trying a difficult stroke at billiards; a +back view--but _so_ clever and characteristic! + +_Lady Lullington_ (_absently_). A back view? How _nice_! + +_Mrs. Earwaker._ He was the only one of the family who didn't +recognize it at once. Then my youngest Caroline--well, I must say +that for a long time I was quite in despair about Caroline. It really +looked as if there was no single thing that she had the slightest bent +or inclination for. So at last I thought she had better take up +religion, and make _that_ her speciality. + +_Lady Lullington_ (_languidly_). Religion! How _very_ nice! + +_Mrs. Earwaker._ Well, I got her a _Christian Year_ and a covered +basket, and quantities of tracts, and so on; but, somehow, she didn't +seem to get _on_ with it. So I let her give it up; and now she's gone +in for poker-etching instead. + +_Lady Lullington_ (_by an act of unconscious cerebration_). +Poker-etching! How very, _very_ nice! + + [_Her eyelids close gently._ + +_Lady Rhoda._ Oh, but indeed, Lady Culverin, I thought he was +perfectly charmin': not a bit booky, you know, but as clever as he can +stick; knows more about terriers than any man I ever met! + +_Lady Culverin._ So glad you found him agreeable, my dear. I was half +afraid he might strike you as--well, just a little bit _common_ in his +way of talking. + +_Lady Rhoda._ P'raps--but, after all, one can't expect those sort of +people to talk quite like we do ourselves, _can_ one? + +_Lady Cantire._ Is that Mr. Spurrell you are finding fault with, +Albinia? It is curious that _you_ should be the one person here +who---- I consider him a very worthy and talented young man, and I +shall most certainly ask him to dinner--or _lunch_, at all events--as +soon as we return. I dare say Lady Rhoda will not object to come and +meet him. + +_Lady Rhoda._ Rather not. _I_'ll come, like a shot! + +_Lady Culverin_ (_to herself_). I suppose it's very silly of me to be +so prejudiced. Nobody else seems to mind him! + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_crossing over to them_). Oh, Lady Culverin, Lady +Lullington has such a _delightful_ idea--she's just been saying how +very, very nice it would be if Mr. Spurrell could be persuaded to read +some of his poetry aloud to us presently. _Do_ you think it could be +managed? + +_Lady Culverin_ (_in distress_). Really, my dear Vivien, I--I don't +know _what_ to say. I fancy people would so _much_ rather talk--don't +you think so, Rohesia? + +_Lady Cantire._ Probably they would, Albinia. It is most unlikely that +they would care to hear anything more intellectual and instructive +than the sound of their own voices. + +_Miss Spelwane._ I _told_ Lady Lullington that I was afraid you would +think it a bore, Lady Cantire. + +_Lady Cantire._ You are perfectly mistaken, Miss Spelwane. I flatter +myself I am quite as capable of appreciating a literary privilege as +anybody here. But I cannot answer for its being so acceptable to the +majority. + +_Lady Culverin._ No, it wouldn't do at all. And it would be making +this young man so _much_ too conspicuous. + +_Lady Cantire._ You are talking nonsense, my dear. When you are +fortunate enough to secure a celebrity at Wyvern, you can't make him +_too_ conspicuous. I never knew that Laura Lullington had any taste +for literature before, but there's something to be said for her +suggestion--if it can be carried out; it would at least provide a +welcome relief from the usual after-dinner dullness of this sort of +gathering. + +_Miss Spelwane._ Then--would _you_ ask him, Lady Cantire? + +_Lady Cantire._ I, my dear? You forget that _I_ am not hostess here. +My sister-in-law is the proper person to do that. + +_Lady Culverin._ Indeed I couldn't. But perhaps, Vivien, if you liked +to suggest it to him, he might---- + +_Miss Spelwane._ I'll try, dear Lady Culverin. And if my poor little +persuasions have no effect, I shall fall back on Lady Cantire, and +then he _can't_ refuse. I must go and tell dear Lady Lullington--she'll +be so pleased! (_To herself, as she skims away._) I generally _do_ get +my own way. But I mean him to do it to please _Me_! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_to herself_). I must say that girl is very much +improved in manner since I last saw anything of her. + +_Mrs. Chatteris_ (_a little later, to_ Lady MAISIE). Have you heard +what a treat is in store for us? That delightful Mr. Spurrell is going +to give us a reading or a recitation, or something, from his own +poems; at least Miss Spelwane is to ask him as soon as the men come +in. Only _I_ should have thought that he would be much more likely to +consent if _you_ asked him. + +_Lady Maisie._ Would you? I'm sure I don't know why. + +_Mrs. Chatteris_ (_archly_). Oh, he took me in to dinner, you know, +and it's quite wonderful how people confide in me, but I suppose they +feel I can be trusted. He mentioned a little fact, which gave me the +impression that a certain fair lady's wishes would be supreme with +him. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). The wretch! He _has_ been boasting of my +unfortunate letter! (_Aloud._) Mr. Spurrell had no business to give +you any impression of the kind. And the mere fact that I--that I +happened to admire his verses---- + +_Mrs. Chatteris._ Exactly! Poets' heads are so easily turned; and, as +I said to Captain Thicknesse---- + +_Lady Maisie._ Captain Thicknesse! You have been talking about it--to +_him_! + +_Mrs. Chatteris._ I'd no idea you would mind anybody knowing, or I +would never have dreamed of---- I've such a perfect _horror_ of gossip! +It took me so much by surprise, that I simply couldn't resist. But I +can easily tell Captain Thicknesse it was all a mistake; _he_ knows +how fearfully inaccurate I always am. + +_Lady Maisie._ I would rather you said nothing more about it, please; +it is really not worth while contradicting anything so utterly absurd. +(_To herself._) That Gerald--Captain Thicknesse--of all people, should +know of my letter! And goodness only knows what story she may have +made out of it! + +_Mrs. Chatteris_ (_to herself, as she moves away_). I've been letting +my tongue run away with me, as usual. She's _not_ the original of +"Lady Grisoline," after all. Perhaps he meant Vivien Spelwane--the +description was much more like _her_! + +_Pilliner_ (_who has just entered with some of the younger men, to_ +Miss SPELWANE). What _are_ you doing with these chairs? Why are we all +to sit in a circle, like Moore and Burgess people? You're _not_ going +to set the poor dear Bishop down to play baby-games? How perfectly +barbarous of you! + +_Miss Spelwane._ The chairs are being arranged for something much more +intellectual. We are going to get Mr. Spurrell to read a poem to us, +if you want to know. I _told_ you I should manage it. + +_Pilliner._ There's only one drawback to that highly desirable +arrangement. The songster has unostentatiously retired to roost. So +I'm afraid you'll have to do without your poetry this evening--that +is, unless you care to avail yourself again of _my_ services? + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_indignantly_). It is too _mean_ of you. You must +have told him! + + [_He protests his innocence._ + +_Lady Rhoda._ Archie, what's become of Mr. Spurrell? I particularly +want to ask him something. + +_Bearpark._ The poet? He nipped upstairs--as I told you all along he +meant to--to scribble some of his democratic drivel, and (_with a +suppressed grin_) I don't _think_ you'll see him again this evening. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself, as he enters_). She's keepin' a +chair next hers in the corner there for somebody. Can it be for that +poet chap?... (_He meets_ Lady MAISIE'S _eye suddenly_.) Great Scott! +If she means it for _me_!... I've half a mind not to---- No, I shall +be a fool if I lose such a chance! (_He crosses, and drops into the +vacant chair next hers._) I _may_ sit here, mayn't I? + +_Lady Maisie_ (_simply_). I meant you to. We used to be such good +friends; it's a pity to have misunderstandings. And--and I want to ask +you what that silly little Mrs. Chatteris has been telling you at +dinner about me. + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Well, she was sayin'--and I must say I don't +understand it, after your tellin' me you knew nothing about this Mr. +Spurrell till this afternoon---- + +_Lady Maisie._ But I don't. And I--I _did_ offer to explain, but you +said you weren't curious! + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Didn't want you to tell me anything that perhaps +you'd rather not, don't you know. Still, I _should_ like to know how +this poet chap came to write a poem all about you, and call it "Lady +Grisoline," if he never---- + +_Lady Maisie._ But it's too ridiculous! How _could_ he? When he never +saw me, so far as I know, in all his life before! + +_Captain Thicknesse._ He told Mrs. Chatteris you were the original of +his "Lady Grisoline" anyway, and really---- + +_Lady Maisie._ He dared to tell her that? How disgracefully +impertinent of him. (_To herself._) So long as he hasn't talked about +my letter, he may say what he pleases! + +_Captain Thicknesse._ But what _was_ it you were goin' to explain to +me? You said there was somethin'---- + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). It's no use; I'd sooner die than tell +him about that letter now! (_Aloud._) I--I only wished you to +understand that, whatever I think about poetry--I detest poets! + +_Lady Cantire._ Yes, as you say, Bishop, a truly Augustan mode of +recreation. Still, Mr. Spurrell doesn't seem to have come in yet, so I +shall have time to hear anything you have to say in defence of your +opposition to Parish Councils. + + [_The_ Bishop _resigns himself to the inevitable_. + +_Archie_ (_in_ PILLINER'S _ear_). Ink and flour--couldn't possibly +miss him; the bard's got a matted head _this_ time, and no mistake. + + [Illustration: "INK AND FLOUR--COULDN'T POSSIBLY MISS HIM."] + +_Pilliner._ Beastly bad form, _I_ call it--with a fellow you don't +know. You'll get yourself into trouble some day. And you couldn't even +bring your own ridiculous booby-trap off, for here the beggar comes, +as if nothing had happened. + +_Archie_ (_disconcerted_). Confound him! The best booby trap I _ever_ +made! + +_The Bishop._ My dear Lady Cantire, here _is_ our youthful poet, at +the eleventh hour. (_To himself._) "_Sic me servavit_ Apollo!" + + [Miss SPELWANE _advances to meet_ SPURRELL, _who stands + surveying the array of chairs in blank bewilderment_. + + + + +PART XVII + +A BOMB SHELL + + + _In a Gallery near the Verney Chamber._ TIME--_Same as that of + the preceding Part._ + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I must say it's rather rough luck on that +poor devil. I get his dress suit, and all _he_ comes in for is my +booby-trap! (PHILLIPSON, _wearing a holland blouse over her evening +toilette, approaches from the other end of the passage; he does not +recognise her until the moment of collision_.) Emma!! It's never +_you_! How do you come to be _here_? + +_Phillipson_ (_to herself_). Then it _was_ my Jem after all! (_Aloud, +distantly._) I'm here in attendance on Lady Maisie Mull, being her +maid. If I was at all curious--which I'm not--I might ask you what +_you_'re doing in such a house as this; and in evening dress, if you +please! + +_Spurrell._ I'm in evening dress, Emma, such as it is (not that I've +any right to find fault with it); but I'm in evening dress (_with +dignity_) because I've been included in the dinner party here. + +_Phillipson._ You must have been getting on since _I_ knew you. Then +you were studying to be a horse-doctor. + +_Spurrell._ I _have_ got on. I am now a qualified M.R.C.V.S. + +_Phillipson._ And does that qualify you to dine with bishops and +countesses and baronets and the gentry, like one of themselves? + +_Spurrell._ I don't say it does, in itself. It was my Andromeda that +did the trick, Emma. + +_Phillipson._ Andromeda? They were talking of that downstairs. What +made you take to scribbling, James? + +_Spurrell._ Scribbling? how do you mean? My handwriting's easy enough +to read, as you ought to know very well. + +_Phillipson._ You can't expect me to remember what your writing's +like; it's so long since I've seen it! + +_Spurrell._ Come, I like that! When I wrote twice to say I was sorry +we'd fallen out; and never got a word back! + +_Phillipson._ If you'd written to the addresses I gave you abroad---- + +_Spurrell._ Then you _did_ write; but none of the letters reached me. +I never even knew you'd _gone_ abroad. I wrote to the old place. And +so did you, I suppose, not knowing I'd moved my lodgings too, so +naturally---- But what does it all matter, so long as we've met and +it's all right between us? Oh, my dear girl, if you only knew how I +worried myself, thinking you were---- Well, all that's over now, isn't +it? + + [_He attempts to embrace her._ + +_Phillipson_ (_repulsing him_). Not quite so fast, James. Before I say +whether we're to be as we were or not, I want to know a little more +about you. You wouldn't be here like this if you hadn't done +_something_ to distinguish yourself. + +_Spurrell._ Well, I don't say I mayn't have got a certain amount of +what they call "kudosh," owing to Andromeda. But what difference does +that make? + +_Phillipson._ Tell me, James, is it _you_ that's been writing a pink +book all over silver cutlets? + +_Spurrell._ Me? Write a book--about cutlets--or anything else! Emma, +you don't suppose I've quite come down to that! Andromeda's the name +of my bull-dog. I took first prize with her; there were portraits of +both of us in one of the papers. And the people here were very much +taken with the dog, and--and so they asked me to dine with them. +That's how it was. + +_Phillipson._ I should have thought, if they asked one of you to dine, +it ought to have been the bull-dog. + +_Spurrell._ Now what's the good of saying extravagant things of that +sort? Not that old Drummy couldn't be trusted to behave anywhere! + +_Phillipson._ Better than her master, I dare say. _I_ heard of your +goings on with some Lady Rhoda or other! + +_Spurrell._ Oh, the girl I sat next to at dinner? Nice chatty sort of +girl; seems fond of quadrupeds---- + +_Phillipson._ Especially two-legged ones! You see, I've been told all +about it! + +_Spurrell._ I assure you, I didn't go a step beyond the most ordinary +civility. You're not going to be jealous because I promised I'd give +her a liniment for one of her dogs, are you? + +_Phillipson._ Liniment! You always _were_ a flirt, James! But I'm not +jealous. I've met a very nice-spoken young man while I've been here; +he sat next to me at supper, and paid me the most beautiful +compliments, and was most polite and attentive--though he hasn't got +as far as liniment, at present. + +_Spurrell._ But, Emma, you're not going to take up with some other +fellow just when we've come together again? + +_Phillipson._ If you call it "coming together," when I'm down in the +housekeeper's room, and you're up above, carrying on with ladies of +title! + +_Spurrell._ Do you want to drive me frantic? As if I could help being +where I am! How could I know _you_ were here? + +_Phillipson._ At all events, you know _now_, James. And it's for you +to choose between your smart lady friends and me. If you're fit +company for them, you're too grand for one of their maids. + +_Spurrell._ My dear girl, don't be unreasonable! I'm expected back in +the drawing-room, and I _can't_ throw 'em over now all of a sudden +without giving offence. There's the interests of the firm to consider, +and it's not for me to take a lower place than I'm given. But it's +only for a night or two, and you don't really suppose I wouldn't +rather be where you are if I was free to choose--but I'm _not_, Emma, +that's the worst of it! + +_Phillipson._ Well, go back to the drawing-room, then; don't keep Lady +Rhoda waiting for her liniment on my account. I ought to be in my +ladies' rooms by this time. Only don't be surprised if, whenever you +_are_ free to choose, you find you've come back just too late--that's +all! + + [_She turns to leave him._ + +_Spurrell_ (_detaining her_). Emma, I won't let you go like this! Not +before you've told me where I can meet you again here. + +_Phillipson._ There's no place that I know of--except the +housekeeper's room; and of course you couldn't descend so low as +that.... James, there's somebody coming! Let go my hand--do you want +to lose me my character! + + [_Steps and voices are heard at the other end of the + passage; she frees herself, and escapes._ + +_Spurrell_ (_attempting to follow_). But, Emma, stop one---- She's +gone!... Confound it, there's the butler and a page-boy coming! It's +no use staying up here any longer. (_To himself, as he goes +downstairs._) It's downright _torture_--that's what it is! To be tied +by the leg in the drawing-room, doing the civil to a lot of girls I +don't care a blow about; and to know that all the time some blarneying +beggar downstairs is doing his best to rob me of my Emma! Flesh and +blood can't stand it; and yet I'm blest if I see any way out of it +without offending 'em all round. + + [_He enters the Chinese Drawing-room._ + + + _In the Chinese Drawing-room._ + +_Miss Spelwane._ At last, Mr. Spurrell! We began to think you meant to +keep away altogether. Has anybody told you _why_ you've been waited +for so impatiently? + +_Spurrell_ (_looking round the circle of chairs apprehensively_). No. +Is it family prayers, or what? Er--are they over? + +_Miss Spelwane._ No, no; nothing of that sort. Can't you _guess_? Mr. +Spurrell, I'm going to be very bold, and ask a great, _great_ favour +of you. I don't know why they chose _me_ to represent them; I told +Lady Lullington I was afraid my entreaties would have no weight; but +if you only would---- + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). They're at it again! How many _more_ of 'em +want a pup! (_Aloud._) Sorry to be disobliging, but---- + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_joining her hands in supplication_). Not if I +_implore_ you? Oh, Mr. Spurrell, I've quite set my heart on hearing +you read aloud to us. Are you really cruel enough to refuse? + +_Spurrell._ Read aloud! Is _that_ what you want me to do? But I'm no +particular hand at it. I don't know that I've ever read aloud--except +a bit out of the paper now and then--since I was a boy at school! + +_Lady Cantire._ _What's_ that I hear? Mr. Spurrell professing +incapacity to read aloud? Sheer affectation! Come, Mr. Spurrell, I am +much mistaken if you are wanting in the power to thrill all hearts +here. Think of us as instruments ready to respond to your touch. Play +upon us as you will; but don't be so ungracious as to raise any +further obstacles. + +_Spurrell_ (_resignedly_). Oh, very well, if I'm required to read, +_I'm_ agreeable. + + [_Murmurs of satisfaction._ + +_Lady Cantire._ Hush, please, everybody! Mr. Spurrell is going to +read. My dear Bishop, if you _wouldn't_ mind just---- Lord Lullington, +can you hear where you are? Where are you going to sit, Mr. Spurrell? +In the centre will be best. Will somebody move that lamp a little, so +as to give him more light? + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself, as he sits down_). I wonder what we're +supposed to be playing at! (_Aloud._) Well, what am I to read, eh? + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_placing an open copy of_ "Andromeda" _in his hands +with a charming air of deferential dictation_). You might begin with +_this_--such a _dear_ little piece! I'm dying to hear _you_ read it! + + [Illustration: "YOU MIGHT BEGIN WITH THIS--SUCH A DEAR LITTLE + PIECE."] + +_Spurrell_ (_as he takes the book_). I'll do the best I can! (_He +looks at the page in dismay._) Why, look here, it's _poetry_! I didn't +bargain for that. Poetry's altogether out of my line! + + [Miss SPELWANE _opens her eyes to their fullest extent, and + retires a few paces from him; he begins to read in a + perfunctory monotone, with deepening bewilderment and + disgust_-- + + "THE SICK KNIGHT. + + Reach me the helmet from yonder rack, + _Mistress o' mine! with its plume of white_: + Now help me upon my destrier's back, + _Mistress o' mine! though he swerve in fright_. + And guide my foot to the stirrup-ledge, + _Mistress o' mine! it eludes me still_. + Then fill me a cup as a farewell pledge, + _Mistress o' mine! for the night air's chill_! + Haste! with the buckler and pennon'd lance, + _Mistress o' mine! or ever I feel_ + My war-horse plunge in impatient prance, + _Mistress o' mine! at the prick of heel_. + Pay scant heed to my pallid hue, + _Mistress o' mine! for the wan moon's sheen_ + Doth blazon the gules o' my cheek with blue, + _Mistress o' mine! or glamour it green_. + One last long kiss, ere I seek the fray ... + _Mistress o' mine! though I quit my sell_, + I would meet the foe i' the mad mêlée. + _Mistress o' mine! an' I were but well!_" + +(_After the murmur of conventional appreciation has died away._) Well, +of course, I don't set up for a judge of such things myself, but I +must say, if I was asked _my_ opinion--of all the downright tommy-rot +I _ever_---- (_The company look at one another with raised eyebrows +and dropped underlips; he turns over the leaves backwards until he +arrives at the title-page._) I _say_, though, I do call this _rather_ +rum! Who the dickens is Clarion Blair? Because _I_ never heard of +him--and yet it seems he's been writing poetry on my bull-dog! + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_faintly_). Writing poetry--about your bull-dog! + +_Spurrell._ Yes, the one you've all been praising up so. If it isn't +meant for her, it's what you might call a most surprising coincidence, +for here's the old dog's name as plain as it can be--_Andromeda_! + + [_Tableau._ + + + + +PART XVIII + +THE LAST STRAW + + + _After_ SPURRELL'S _ingenuous comments upon the volume in his + hand, a painful silence ensues, which no one has sufficient + presence of mind to break for several seconds_. + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_to herself_). Not Clarion Blair! Not even a poet! +I--I could _slap_ him! + +_Pilliner_ (_to himself_). Poor dear Vivien! But if people will insist +on patting a strange poet, they mustn't be surprised if they get a +nasty bite! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). He didn't write _Andromeda_! Then he +hasn't got my letter after all! And I've been such a _brute_ to the +poor dear man! _How_ lucky I said nothing about it to Gerald! + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). So he _ain't_ the bard!... Now I +see why Maisie's been behavin' so oddly all the evenin'; she spotted +him, and didn't like to speak out. Tried to give me a hint, though. +Well, I shall stay out my leave now! + +_Lady Rhoda_ (_to herself_). I thought all along he seemed too good a +sort for a poet! + +_Archie_ (_to himself_). It's all very well; but how about that skit +he went up to write on us? He _must_ be a poet of sorts. + +_Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris_ (_to herself_). This is fearfully puzzling. +What made him say that about "Lady Grisoline"? + +_The Bishop_ (_to himself_). A crushing blow for the Countess; but not +unsalutary. I am distinctly conscious of feeling more kindly disposed +to that young man. Now why? + + [_He ponders._ + +_Lady Lullington_ (_to herself_). I thought this young man was going +to read us some more of his poetry; it's too tiresome of him to stop +to tell us about his bull-dog. As if anybody cared _what_ he called +it! + +_Lord Lullington_ (_to himself_). Uncommonly awkward, this! If I could +catch Laura's eye--but I suppose it would hardly be decent to go just +yet. + +_Lady Culverin_ (_to herself_). Can Rohesia have known this? What +possible object could she have had in---- And oh, dear, _how_ +disgusted Rupert will be! + +_Sir Rupert_ (_to himself_). Seems a decent young chap enough! Too +bad of Rohesia to let him in for this. I don't care a straw what he +is--he's none the worse for not being a poet. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_to herself_). What _is_ he maundering about? It's +utterly inconceivable that _I_ should have made any mistake. It's only +too clear what the cause is--_Claret_! + +_Spurrell_ (_aloud, good-humouredly_). Too bad of you to try and spoof +me like this before everybody, Miss Spelwane! I don't know whose idea +it was to play me such a trick, but---- + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_indistinctly_). Please understand that nobody here +had the _least_ intention of playing a trick upon you! + +_Spurrell._ Well, if you say so, of course---- But it looked rather +like it, asking me to read when I've about as much poetry in me as--as +a pot hat! Still, if I'm _wanted_ to read aloud, I shall be happy +to---- + +_Lady Culverin_ (_hastily_). Indeed, _indeed_, Mr. Spurrell, we +couldn't think of troubling you any more under the circumstances! (_In +desperation._) Vivien, my dear, won't you _sing_ something? + + [_The company echo the request with unusual eagerness._ + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself, during_ Miss SPELWANE'S _song_). Wonder +what's put them off being read to all of a sudden? My elocution mayn't +be first-class, exactly, but still---- (_As his eye happens to rest on +the binding of the volume on his knee._) Hullo! This cover's pink, +with silver things, not unlike cutlets, on it! Didn't Emma ask me----? +By George, if it's _that_! I may get down to the housekeeper's room, +after all! As soon as ever this squalling stops I'll find out; I +_can't_ go on like this! (Miss SPELWANE _leaves the piano; everybody +plunges feverishly into conversation on the first subject--other than +poetry or dogs--that presents itself, until_ Lord _and_ Lady +LULLINGTON _set a welcome example of departure_.) Better wait till +these county nobs have cleared, I suppose--there goes the last of +'em--now for it!... (_He pulls himself together, and approaches his +host and hostess._) Hem, Sir Rupert, and your ladyship, it's occurred +to me that it's just barely possible you may have got it in your heads +that I was something in the _poetical_ way. + +_Sir Rupert_ (_to himself_). Not this poor young chap's fault; must +let him down as easily as possible! (_Aloud._) Not at all--not at all! +Ha--assure you we quite understand; no necessity to say another word +about it. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Just my luck! They quite understand! No +housekeeper's room for me this journey! (_Aloud._) Of course I knew +the Countess, there, and Lady Maisie, were fully aware all along---- +(_To_ Lady MAISIE, _as stifled exclamations reach his ear_.) You +_were_, weren't you? + +_Lady Maisie_ (_hastily_). Yes, yes, Mr. Spurrell. Of course! It's all +_perfectly_ right! + +_Spurrell_ (_to the others_). You see, I should never have thought of +coming in as a visitor if it hadn't been for the Countess; she would +_have_ it that it was all right, and that I needn't be afraid I +shouldn't be welcome. + +_Lady Culverin._ To be sure--any friend of my sister-in-law's---- + +_Lady Cantire._ Albinia, I have refrained from speech as long as +possible; but this is really _too_ much! You _don't_ suppose I should +have introduced Mr. Spurrell here unless I had had the strongest +reasons for knowing, however he may be pleased to mystify us now, that +he, and nobody else, is the author of _Andromeda_! And I, for one, +absolutely decline to believe in this preposterous story of his about +a bull-dog. + +_Spurrell._ But your ladyship must have known! Why, you as good as +asked me on the way here to put you down for a bull-pup! + +_Lady Cantire._ Never, never! A bull-pup is the last creature I should +ever dream of coveting. You were obliging enough to ask me to accept a +presentation copy of your verses. + +_Spurrell._ Was I? I don't exactly see how I _could_ have been, +considering I never made a rhyme in my life! + +_Sir Rupert._ There, there, Rohesia, it was _your_ mistake; but as we +are indebted to it for the pleasure of making Mr. Spurrell's +acquaintance---- + +_Lady Cantire._ I am not in the habit of making mistakes, Rupert. I +don't know what you and Albinia and Maisie may know that I am in +ignorance of, but, since you seem to have been aware from the first +that Mr. Spurrell was not the poet you had invited here to meet me, +will you kindly explain what has become of the _real_ author? + +_Sir Rupert._ My dear Rohesia, I don't know and I don't _care_! + +_Lady Cantire._ There you are _wrong_, Rupert, because it's obvious +that if he is not Mr. Spurrell, the real poet's absence has to be +accounted for in _some_ way. + +_Spurrell._ By Jove, I believe I can put you on the track. I shouldn't +wonder if he's the party these dress clothes of mine belong to! I dare +say you may have noticed they don't look as if they were made for me? + +_Lady Cantire_ (_closing her eyes_). Pray let us avoid any sartorial +questions! We are waiting to hear about this person. + +_Spurrell._ Well, I found I'd got on his things by mistake, and I went +up as soon as I could after dessert to my room to take 'em off, and +there he was, with a waste-paper basket on his head---- + +_Lady Cantire._ A waste-paper basket on his head! And pray what should +he have _that_ for? + +_Spurrell._ I'm no wiser than your ladyship _there_. All _I_ know is +he said he wouldn't take it off till he saw me. And I never saw any +one in such a mess with ink and flour as he was! + +_Lady Cantire._ Ink and flour, indeed! This rigmarole gets more +ridiculous every moment! You can't seriously expect any one here to +believe it! + + [ARCHIE _discreetly retires to the smoking-room_. + +_Spurrell._ Well, I rather think somebody must have fixed up a +booby-trap for _me_, you know, and he happened to go in first and get +the benefit of it. And he was riled, very naturally, thinking _I_'d +done it, but after we'd had a little talk together, he calmed down and +said I might keep his clothes, which I thought uncommonly good-natured +of him, you know. By the way, he gave me his card. Here it is, if +your ladyship would like to see it. + + [_He hands it to_ Lady CULVERIN. + +_Lady Culverin._ "Mr. Undershell!"... Rohesia, that _is_ Clarion +Blair! I knew it was _something_ ending in "ell." (_To_ SPURRELL.) And +you say Mr. Undershell is here--in this house? + +_Spurrell._ Not now. He's gone by this time. + +_The Others_ (_in dismay_). Gone! + +_Spurrell._ He said he was leaving at once. If he'd only told me how +it was, I'd have---- + +_Lady Cantire._ I don't believe a single word of all this! If Mr. +Spurrell is not Clarion Blair, let him explain how he came to be +coming down to Wyvern this afternoon! + +_Spurrell._ If your ladyship doesn't really know, you had better ask +Sir Rupert; _he'll_ tell you it's all right. + +_Lady Cantire._ Then perhaps _you_ will be good enough to enlighten +us, Rupert? + +_Sir Rupert_ (_driven into a corner_). Why, 'pon my word, I'm bound to +say that I'm just as much in the dark as anybody else, if it comes to +that! + +_Spurrell_ (_eagerly_). But you wired me to come, sir! About a horse +of yours! I've been wondering all the evening when you'd tell me I +could go round and have a look at him. I'm here instead of Mr. +Spavin--_now_ do you understand, Sir Rupert? I'm the vet. + + [_Suppressed sensation._ + +_Sir Rupert_ (_to himself_). This is devilish awkward! Don't quite +know what to do. (_Aloud._) To--to be sure you are! Of course! That's +it, Rohesia! Mr. Spurrell came down to see a horse, and we shall be +very glad to have the benefit of his opinion by and bye. + + [_He claps him amicably on the shoulder._ + +_Lady Cantire_ (_in a sepulchral tone_). Albinia, I think I will go to +bed. + + [_She withdraws._ + + [Illustration: "ALBINIA, I THINK I WILL GO TO BED."] + +_Sir Rupert_ (_to himself_). There'll be no harm in letting him stay, +now he _is_ here. If Rohesia objects, she's got nobody but herself to +blame for it! + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). They won't want to keep me upstairs much +longer after this! (TREDWELL _enters, and seems to have something of +importance to communicate to_ Sir RUPERT _in private_.) I wonder what +the dooce is up _now_! + + [_Partial reaction in company._ + + + + +PART XIX + +UNEARNED INCREMENT + + +_Sir Rupert_ (_to_ TREDWELL). Well, what is it? + +_Tredwell_ (_in an undertone_). With reference to the party, Sir +Rupert, as represents himself to have come down to see the 'orse, +I---- + +_Sir Rupert_ (_aloud_). You mean Mr. Spurrell? It's all right. Mr. +Spurrell will see the horse to-morrow. (TREDWELL _disguises his utter +bewilderment_.) By the way, we expected a Mr. ---- What did you say +the name was, my dear?... Undershell? To be sure, a Mr. Undershell, to +have been here in time for dinner. Do you know why he has been unable +to come before this? + +_Tredwell_ (_to himself_). Do I know? Oh, Lor! (_Aloud._) I--I believe +he _have_ arrived, Sir Rupert. + +_Sir Rupert._ So I understand from Mr. Spurrell. Is he here still? + +_Tredwell._ He is, Sir Rupert. I--I considered it my dooty not to +allow him to leave the house, not feeling---- + +_Sir Rupert._ Quite right, Tredwell. I should have been most seriously +annoyed if I had found that a guest we were all anxiously expecting +had left the Court, owing to some fancied---- Where is he now? + +_Tredwell_ (_faintly_). In--in the Verney Chamber. Leastways---- + +_Sir Rupert._ Ah. (_He glances at_ SPURRELL.) Then where----? But that +can be arranged. Go up and explain to Mr. Undershell that we have only +this moment heard of his arrival; say we understand that he has been +obliged to come by a later train, and that we shall be delighted to +see him, just as he is. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). He was worth looking at just as he _was_, +when _I_ saw him! + +_Pilliner_ (_to himself_). By a later train? Then, how the deuce did +his clothes----? Oh, well, however it was, it don't concern _me_. + +_Tredwell._ Very good, Sir Rupert. (_To himself, as he departs._) If +I'm not precious careful over this job, it may cost me my situation! + +_Spurrell._ Sir Rupert, I've been thinking that, after what's +occurred, it would probably be more satisfactory to all parties if I +shifted my quarters, and--took my meals in the housekeeper's room. + + [Lady MAISIE _and_ Lady RHODA _utter inarticulate protests_. + +_Sir Rupert._ My _dear_ sir, not on any account--couldn't _hear_ of +it! My wife, I'm sure, will say the same. + +_Lady Culverin_ (_with an effort_). I hope Mr. Spurrell will continue +to be our guest precisely as before--that is, if he will forgive us +for putting him into another room. + +_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). It's no use; I _can't_ get rid of 'em; they +stick to me like a lot of blooming burrs! (_Aloud, in despair._) Your +ladyship is very good, but---- Well, the fact is, I've only just found +out that a young lady I've long been deeply attached to is in this +very house. She's a Miss Emma Phillipson--maid, so I understand, to +Lady Maisie--and, without for one moment wishing to draw any +comparisons, or to seem ungrateful for all the friendliness I've +received, I really and truly would feel myself more comfortable in a +circle where I could enjoy rather more of my Emma's society than I can +here! + +_Sir Rupert_ (_immensely relieved_). Perfectly natural! +and--hum--sorry as we are to lose you, Mr. Spurrell, we--ah--mustn't +be inconsiderate enough to keep you here a moment longer. I've no +doubt you will find the young lady in the housekeeper's room--any one +will tell you where it is.... Good night to you, then; and, remember, +we shall expect to see you in the field on Tuesday. + +_Lady Maisie._ Good night, Mr. Spurrell, and--and I'm so very +glad--about Emma, you know. I hope you will both be very happy. + + [_She shakes hands warmly._ + + [Illustration: "I'M SO VERY GLAD--ABOUT EMMA, YOU KNOW."] + +_Lady Rhoda._ So do I. And mind you don't forget about that liniment, +you know. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). Maisie don't care a hang! And I +was ass enough to fancy---- But there, that's all over now! + + + _In the Verney Chamber._ + +_Undershell_ (_in the dressing-room, to himself_). I wonder how long +I've been locked up here--it seems hours! I almost hope they've +forgotten me altogether.... Some one has come in.... If it should be +Sir Rupert!! Great heavens, what a situation to be found in by one's +host!... Perhaps it's only that fellow Spurrell; if so, there's a +chance. (_The door is unlocked by_ TREDWELL, _who has lighted the +candles on the dressing table_.) It's the butler again. Well, I shall +soon know the worst! (_He steps out, blinking, with as much dignity as +possible._) Perhaps you will kindly inform me why I have been +subjected to this indignity? + +_Tredwell_ (_in perturbation_). I think, Mr. Undershell, sir, in +common fairness, you'll admit as you've mainly yourself to thank for +any mistakes that have occurred; for which I 'asten to express my +pussonal regret. + +_Undershell._ So long as you realise that you have made a mistake, I +am willing to overlook it, on condition that you help me to get away +from this place without your master and mistress's knowledge. + +_Tredwell._ It's too late, sir. They know you're 'ere! + +_Undershell._ They know! Then there's no time to be lost. I must leave +this moment! + +_Tredwell._ No, sir, excuse me; but you can't hardly do that _now_. I +was to say that Sir Rupert and the ladies would be glad to see you in +the droring-room himmediate. + +_Undershell._ Man alive! do you imagine anything would induce me to +meet them now, after the humiliations I have been compelled to suffer +under this roof? + +_Tredwell._ If you would prefer anything that has taken place in the +room, sir, or in the stables to be 'ushed up---- + +_Undershell._ Prefer it! If it were only possible! But they know--they +_know_! What's the use of talking like that? + +_Tredwell_ (_to himself_). I know where I am now! (_Aloud._) They know +nothink up to the present, Mr. Undershell, nor yet I see no occasion +why they should--leastwise from any of _Us_. + +_Undershell._ But they know I'm here; how am I to account for all the +time----? + +_Tredwell._ Excuse me, sir. I thought of that, and it occurred to me +as it might be more agreeable to your feelings, sir, if I conveyed an +impression that you had only just arrived--'aving missed your train, +sir. + +_Undershell_ (_overjoyed_). How am I to thank you? that was really +most discreet of you--most considerate! + +_Tredwell._ I am truly rejoiced to hear you say so, sir. And I'll take +care nothing leaks out. And if you'll be kind enough to follow me to +the droring-room, the ladies are waiting to see you. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I may actually meet Lady Maisie Mull +after all! (_Aloud, recollecting his condition._) But I can't go down +like this. I'm in such a horrible mess! + +_Tredwell._ I reelly don't perceive it, sir; except a little white on +your coat-collar behind. Allow me--there it's off now. (_He gives him +a hand-glass_) If you'd like to see for yourself. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself as he looks_). A slight pallor, that's all. +I am more presentable than I could have hoped. (_Aloud._) Have the +kindness to take me to Lady Culverin at once. + + + _In the Chinese Drawing-room. A few minutes later._ + +_Sir Rupert_ (_to_ UNDERSHELL, _after the introductions have been gone +through_). And so you missed the 4.55 and had to come on by the 7.30 +which stops everywhere, eh? + +_Undershell._ It--it certainly does stop at most stations. + +_Sir Rupert._ And how did you get on to Wyvern--been here long? + +_Undershell._ N--not _particularly_ long. + +_Sir Rupert._ Fact is, you see, we made a mistake. Very ridiculous, +but we've been taking that young fellow, Mr. Spurrell, for _you_ all +this time; so we never thought of inquiring whether you'd come or not. +It was only just now he told us how he'd met you in the Verney +Chamber, and the very handsome way, if you will allow me to say so, in +which you had tried to efface yourself. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I didn't expect him to take _that_ view +of it! (_Aloud._) I--I felt I had no alternative. + + [Lady MAISIE _regards him with admiration_. + +_Sir Rupert._ You did an uncommon fine thing, sir, and I'm afraid you +received treatment on your arrival which you had every right to +resent. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I hoped he didn't know about the +housekeeper's room! (_Aloud._) Please say no more about it, Sir +Rupert. I know now that you were entirely innocent of any---- + +_Sir Rupert_ (_horrified_). Good Gad! you didn't suppose _I_ had any +hand in fixing up that booby-trap, or whatever it was, did you? Young +fellows will get bear-fighting and playing idiotic tricks on one +another, and you seem to have been the victim--that's how it was. Have +you had anything to eat since you came? If not---- + +_Undershell_ (_hastily_). Thank you, I--I _have_ dined. (_To +himself._) So he _doesn't_ know where, after all! I will spare him +_that_. + +_Sir Rupert._ Got some food at Shuntingbridge, eh? Afraid they gave +you a wretched dinner? + +_Undershell._ Quite the reverse, I assure you. (_To himself._) +Considering that it came from his own table! + +_Pilliner_ (_to himself_). I _still_ don't understand how his +clothes---- (_Aloud._) Did you send your portmanteau on ahead, then, or +what? + +_Undershell_ (_blankly_). Send my port--? I don't understand. + +_Pilliner._ Oh, I only asked, because the other man said he was +wearing your things. + +_Sir Rupert_ (_as_ UNDERSHELL _remains speechless_). I see how it +was--perfectly simple--rush for the train--porter put your luggage +in--you got left behind, wasn't that it? + +_Undershell._ I--I certainly _did_ get separated from my portmanteau, +somehow, and I suppose it must have arrived before me. (_To himself._) +Considering the pace of the fly-horse, I think I am justified in +assuming _that_! + +_Pilliner_ (_to himself_). Ass I was not to hold my tongue! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_in an undertone, to_ Captain THICKNESSE). Gerald, you +remember what I said some time ago--about poetry and poets? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Perfectly. And I thought you were quite right. + +_Lady Maisie._ I was quite _wrong_. I didn't know what I was talking +about. I do now. Good night. (_She crosses to_ UNDERSHELL.) Good +night, Mr. Blair, I'm so very glad we have met--at last! + + [_She goes._ + +_Undershell_ (_to himself, rapturously_). She's _not_ freckled; she's +not even sandy. She's lovely! And, by some unhoped-for good fortune, +all this has only raised me in her eyes. I am more than compensated! + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). I may just as well get back to +Aldershot to-morrow--_now_. I'll go and prepare Lady C.'s mind, in +case. It's hard luck; just when everything seemed goin' right! I'd +give somethin' to have the other bard back, I know. It's no earthly +use my tryin' to stand against _this_ one! + + + + +PART XX + +DIFFERENT PERSONS HAVE DIFFERENT OPINIONS + + + LADY MAISIE'S _Room at Wyvern_. TIME--_Saturday night, about_ + 11.30. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to_ PHILLIPSON, _who is brushing her hair_). You are +_sure_ mamma isn't expecting me? (_Irresolutely._) Perhaps I had +better just run in and say good night. + +_Phillipson._ I wouldn't recommend it, really, my lady; her ladyship +seems a little upset in her nerves this evening. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). _Il-y-a de quoi!_ (_Aloud, relieved._) +It might only disturb her, certainly.... I hope they are making you +comfortable here, Phillipson? + +_Phillipson._ Very much so indeed, thank you, my lady. The tone of the +room downstairs is _most_ superior. + +_Lady Maisie._ _That's_ satisfactory. And I hear you have met an old +admirer of yours here--Mr. Spurrell, I mean. + +_Phillipson._ We _did_ happen to encounter each other in one of the +galleries, my lady, just for a minute; though I shouldn't have +expected _him_ to allude to it! + +_Lady Maisie._ Indeed! And why not? + +_Phillipson._ Mr. James Spurrell appears to have elevated himself to a +very different sphere from what he occupied when _I_ used to know him, +my lady; though how and why he comes to be where he is, I don't +rightly understand myself at present. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). And no wonder! I feel horribly guilty! +(_Aloud._) You mustn't blame poor Mr. Spurrell, Phillipson; _he_ +couldn't help it! + +_Phillipson_ (_with studied indifference_). I'm not blaming him, my +lady. If he prefers the society of his superiors to mine, he's very +welcome to do so; there's others only too willing to take his place! + +_Lady Maisie._ Surely none who would be as fond of you or make so good +a husband, Phillipson! + +_Phillipson._ That's as maybe, my lady. There was one young man that +travelled down in the same compartment, and sat next me at supper in +the room. I could see he took a great fancy to me from the first, and +his attentions were really quite pointed. I am sure I couldn't bring +myself to repeat his remarks, they were so flattering! + +_Lady Maisie._ Don't you think you will be rather a foolish girl if +you allow a few idle compliments from a stranger to outweigh such an +attachment as Mr. Spurrell seems to have for you? + +_Phillipson._ If _he_'s found new friends, my lady, I consider myself +free to act similarly. + +_Lady Maisie._ Then you don't know? He told us quite frankly this +evening that he had only just discovered you were here, and would much +prefer to be where you were. He went down to the housekeeper's room on +purpose. + +_Phillipson_ (_moved_). It's the first I've heard of it, my lady. It +must have been after I came up. If I'd only known he'd behave like +_that_! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_instructively_). You see how loyal he is to _you_. And +now, I suppose, he will find he has been supplanted by this new +acquaintance--some smooth-tongued, good-for-nothing valet, I dare say? + +_Phillipson_ (_injured_). Oh, my lady, indeed he wasn't a _man_! But +there was nothing serious between us--at least, on _my_ side--though +he certainly did go on in a very sentimental way himself. However, +he's left the Court by now, that's _one_ comfort! (_To herself._) I +wish now I'd said nothing about him to Jem. If he was to get asking +questions downstairs---- He always _was_ given to jealousy--reason or +none! + + [_A tap is heard at the door._ + +_Lady Rhoda_ (_outside_). Maisie, may I come in? if you've done your +hair, and sent away your maid. (_She enters._) Ah, I see you haven't. + +_Lady Maisie._ Don't run away, Rhoda; my maid has just done. You can +go now, Phillipson. + +_Lady Rhoda_ (_to herself, as she sits down_). Phillipson! So _that's_ +the young woman that funny vet man prefers to _us_! H'm, can't say I +feel flattered! + +_Phillipson_ (_to herself, as she leaves the room_). This must be the +Lady Rhoda, who was making up to my Jem! He wouldn't have anything to +say to her, though; and, now I see her, I am not surprised at it! + + [_She goes. A pause._ + +_Lady Rhoda_ (_crossing her feet on the fender_). Well, we can't +complain of havin' had a dull evenin', _can_ we? + + [Illustration: "WELL, WE CAN'T COMPLAIN OF HAVIN' HAD A DULL + EVENIN', CAN WE?"] + +_Lady Maisie_ (_taking a hand-screen from the mantelshelf_). Not +altogether. Has--anything fresh happened since I left? + +_Lady Rhoda._ Nothing particular. Archie apologised to this new man in +the billiard-room. For the booby trap. We all told him he'd _got_ to. +And Mr. Carrion Bear, or Blundershell, or whatever he calls +himself--_you_ know--was so awf'lly gracious and condescendin' that I +really thought poor dear old Archie would have wound up his apology by +punchin' his head for him. Strikes me, Maisie, that mop-headed +minstrel boy is a decided change for the worse. Doesn't it you? + +_Lady Maisie_ (_toying with the screen_). How do you _mean_, Rhoda? + +_Lady Rhoda._ I meantersay I call Mr. Spurrell---- Well, he's real, +anyway--he's a _man_, don't you know. As for the other, so _feeble_ of +him missin' his train like he did, and turnin' up too late for +everything! Now, _wasn't_ it? + +_Lady Maisie._ Poets _are_ dreamy and unpractical and unpunctual--it's +their nature. + +_Lady Rhoda._ Then they should stay at home. Just see what a hopeless +muddle he's got us all into! I declare I feel as if anybody might turn +into somebody else on the smallest provocation after this. I _know_ +poor Vivien Spelwane will be worryin' her pillows like rats most of +the night, and I rather fancy it will be a close time for poets with +your dear mother, Maisie, for some time to come. All this silly little +man's fault! + +_Lady Maisie._ No, Rhoda. Not his--_ours_. Mine and mamma's. We ought +to have felt from the first that there _must_ be some mistake, that +poor Mr. Spurrell couldn't _possibly_ be a poet! I don't know, +though--people generally _are_ unlike what you'd expect from their +books. I believe they do it on purpose! Not that that applies to Mr. +Blair; he _is_ one's idea of what a poet should be. If he hadn't +arrived when he did, I don't think I could ever have borne to read +another line of poetry as long as I lived! + +_Lady Rhoda._ I _say_! Do you call him as good-lookin' as all _that_? + +_Lady Maisie._ I was not thinking about his looks, Rhoda--it's his +_conduct_ that's so splendid. + +_Lady Rhoda._ His conduct? Don't see anything splendid in missin' a +train. I could do it myself if I tried. + +_Lady Maisie._ Well, I wish I could think there were many men capable +of acting so nobly and generously as he did. + +_Lady Rhoda._ As how? + +_Lady Maisie._ You really don't see! Well, then, you _shall_. He +arrives late, and finds that somebody else is here already in his +character. He makes no fuss; manages to get a private interview with +the person who is passing as himself; when, of course, he soon +discovers that poor Mr. Spurrell is as much deceived as anybody else. +What is he to do? Humiliate the unfortunate man by letting him know +the truth? Mortify my uncle and aunt by a public explanation before a +whole dinner-party? That is what a stupid or a selfish man might have +done, almost without thinking. But not Mr. Blair. He has too much +tact, too much imagination, too much chivalry for that. He saw at once +that his only course was to spare his host and hostess, and--and all +of us a scene, by slipping away quietly and unostentatiously, as he +had come. + +_Lady Rhoda_ (_yawning_). If he saw all that, why didn't he _do_ it? + +_Lady Maisie_ (_indignantly_). Why? How provoking you can be, Rhoda! +_Why?_ Because that stupid Tredwell wouldn't let him! Because Archie +delayed him by some idiotic practical joke! Because Mr. Spurrell went +and blurted it all out!... Oh, don't try to run down a really fine act +like that; because you can't--you simply _can't_! + +_Lady Rhoda_ (_after a low whistle_). No idea it had gone so far as +that--already! _Now_ I begin to see why Gerry Thicknesse has been +lookin' as if he'd sat on his best hat, and why he told your aunt he +might have to be off to-morrow; which is all stuff, because I happen +to know his leave ain't up for two or three days yet. But he sees this +Troubadour has put his poor old nose out of joint for him. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_flushing_). Now, Rhoda, I won't have you talking as +if--as if---- _You_ ought to know, if Gerald Thicknesse doesn't, that +it's nothing at all of that sort! It's just---- Oh, I can't _tell_ you +how some of his poems moved me, what new ideas, wider views they +seemed to teach; and then how _dreadfully_ it hurt to think it was +only Mr. Spurrell after all!... But _now_--oh, the _relief_ of finding +they're not spoilt; that I can still admire, still look up to the man +who wrote them! Not to have to feel that he is quite commonplace--not +even a gentleman--in the ordinary sense! + +_Lady Rhoda_ (_rising_). Ah well, I prefer a hero who looks as if he +had his hair cut, occasionally--but then, I'm not romantic. He may be +the paragon you say; but if I was you, my dear, I wouldn't expect too +much of that young man--allow a margin for shrinkage, don't you know. +And now I think I'll turn into my little crib, for I'm dead tired. +Good night; don't sit up late readin' poetry; it's my opinion you've +read quite enough as it is! + + [_She goes._ + +_Lady Maisie_ (_alone, as she gazes dreamily into the fire_). She +doesn't in the _least_ understand! She actually suspects me of---- As +if I could possibly--or as if mamma would ever--even if _he_---- Oh, +how _silly_ I am!... I don't care! I _am_ glad I haven't had to give +up my ideal. I _should_ like to know him better. What harm is there in +that? And if Gerald chooses to go to-morrow, he must--that's all. He +isn't nearly so nice as he used to be; and he has even _less_ +imagination than ever! I don't think I _could_ care for anybody so +absolutely matter-of-fact. And yet, only an hour ago I almost---- But +that was _before_! + + + + +PART XXI + +THE FEELINGS OF A MOTHER. + + + _In the Morning Room._ TIME--_Sunday morning; just after + breakfast._ + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_outside, to_ TREDWELL). Dogcart round, eh? +everything in? All right--shan't be a minute. (_Entering._) Hallo, +Pilliner, you all alone here? (_He looks round disconcertedly._) Don't +happen to have seen Lady Maisie about? + +_Pilliner._ Let me see--she _was_ here a little while ago, I fancy.... +Why? Do you want her? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ No--only to say good-bye and that. I'm just off. + +_Pilliner._ Off? To-day! You don't mean to tell me your chief is such +an inconsiderate old ruffian as to expect you to travel back to your +Tommies on the Sabbath! You could wait till to-morrow if you _wanted_ +to. Come now! + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Perhaps--only, you see, I _don't_ want to. + +_Pilliner._ Well, tastes differ. I shouldn't call a cross-country +journey in a slow train, with unlimited opportunities of studying the +company's bye-laws and traffic arrangements at several admirably +ventilated junctions, the ideal method of spending a cheery Sunday, +myself, that's all. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_gloomily_). Dare say it will be about as cheery +as stoppin' on here, if it comes to that. + +_Pilliner._ I admit we were most of us a wee bit chippy at breakfast. +The bard conversed--I will say _that_ for him--but he seemed to +diffuse a gloom somehow. Shut you up once or twice in a manner that +might almost be described as damned offensive. + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Don't know what you all saw in what he said that +was so amusin'. Confounded rude _I_ thought it! + +_Pilliner._ Don't think anyone _was_ amused--unless it was Lady +Maisie. By the way, he might perhaps have selected a happier topic to +hold forth to Sir Rupert on than the scandalous indifference of large +landowners to the condition of the rural labourer. Poor dear old boy, +he stood it wonderfully, considering. Pity Lady Cantire breakfasted +upstairs; she'd have enjoyed herself. However, he had a very good +audience in little Lady Maisie. + +_Captain Thicknesse._ I do hate a chap that jaws at breakfast.... +_Where_ did you say she was? + +_Lady Maisie's voice_ (_outside, in conservatory_). Yes, you really +ought to see the orangery and the Elizabethan garden, Mr. Blair. If +you will be on the terrace in about five minutes, I could take you +round myself. I must go and see if I can get the keys first. + +_Pilliner._ If you want to say good-bye, old fellow, now's your +chance! + +_Captain Thicknesse._ It--it don't matter. She's engaged. And, look +here, you needn't mention that I was askin' for her. + +_Pilliner._ Of course, old fellow, if you'd rather not. (_He glances +at him._) But I say, my dear old chap, if _that's_ how it is with you, +I don't quite see the sense of chucking it up _already_, don't you +know. No earthly affair of mine, I know; still, if I _could_ manage to +stay on, I would, if I were _you_. + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Hang it all, Pilliner, do you suppose _I_ don't +know when the game's up! If it was any _good_ stayin' on---- And +besides, I've said good-bye to Lady C., and all that. No, it's too +late now. + +_Tredwell_ (_at the door_). Excuse me, sir, but if you're going by the +10.40, you haven't any too much time. + +_Pilliner_ (_to himself after_ Captain THICKNESSE _has hurried out_). +Poor old chap, he does seem hard hit! Pity he's not Lady Maisie's +sort. Though what she can see in that long-haired beggar----! Wonder +when Vivien Spelwane intends to come down; never knew her miss +breakfast before.... What's that rustling?... Women! I'll be off, or +they'll nail me for church before I know it. + + [_He disappears hastily in the direction of the Smoking-room + as_ Lady CANTIRE and Mrs. CHATTERIS _enter_. + + [Illustration: "I'LL BE OFF, OR THEY'LL NAIL ME FOR CHURCH + BEFORE I KNOW IT."] + +_Lady Cantire._ Nonsense, my dear, no walk at all; the church is only +just across the park. My brother Rupert always goes, and it pleases +him to see the Wyvern pew as full as possible. I seldom feel equal to +going myself, because I find the necessity of allowing pulpit +inaccuracies to pass without a protest gets too much on my nerves; but +my daughter will accompany you. You'll have just time to run up and +get your things on. + +_Mrs. Chatteris_ (_with arch significance_). I don't _fancy_ I shall +have the pleasure of your daughter's society this morning. I just met +her going to get the garden keys; I think she has promised to show the +grounds to---- Well, I needn't mention _whom_. Oh dear me, I hope I'm +not being indiscreet _again_! + +_Lady Cantire._ I make a point of never interfering with my daughter's +proceedings, and you can easily understand how natural it is that such +old friends as they have always been---- + +_Mrs. Chatteris._ Really? I _thought_ they seemed to take a great +pleasure in one another's society. It's quite romantic. But I must +rush up and get my bonnet on if I'm to go to church. (_To herself, as +she goes out._) So she _was_ "Lady Grisoline," after all! If I was her +mother---- But dear Lady Cantire is so advanced about things. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_to herself_). Darling Maisie! He'll be Lord +Dunderhead before very long. How sensible and sweet of her! And I was +quite uneasy about them last night at dinner; they scarcely seemed to +be talking to each other at all. But there's a great deal more in dear +Maisie than one would imagine. + +_Sir Rupert_ (_outside_). We're rather proud of our church, Mr. +Undershell--fine old monuments and brasses, if you care about that +sort of thing. Some of us will be walking over to service presently, +if you would like to---- + +_Undershell_ (_outside--to himself_). And lose my _tête-à-tête_ with +Lady Maisie! Not exactly! (_Aloud._) I am afraid, Sir Rupert, that I +cannot conscientiously---- + +_Sir Rupert_ (_hastily_). Oh, very well, very well; do exactly as you +like about it, of course. I only thought---- (_To himself._) Now, that +_other_ young chap would have gone! + +_Lady Cantire._ Rupert, who is that you are talking to out there? I +don't recognise his voice, somehow. + +_Sir Rupert_ (_entering with_ UNDERSHELL). Ha, Rohesia, you've come +down, then? slept well, I hope. I was talking to a gentleman whose +acquaintance I know you will be very happy to make--at last. This is +the genuine celebrity _this_ time. (_To_ UNDERSHELL.) Let me make you +known to my sister, Lady Cantire, Mr. Undershell. (_As_ Lady CANTIRE +_glares interrogatively_.) Mr. Clarion Blair, Rohesia, author of +hum--ha--_Andromache_. + +_Lady Cantire._ I thought we were given to understand last night that +Mr. Spurrell--Mr. Blair--you must pardon me, but it's really so very +confusing--that the writer of the--ah--volume in question had already +left Wyvern. + +_Sir Rupert._ Well, my dear, you see he is still here--er--fortunately +for us. If you'll excuse me, I'll leave Mr. Blair to entertain you; +got to speak to Adams about something. + + [_He hurries out._ + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). This must be Lady Maisie's mamma. Better +be civil to her, I suppose; but I can't stay here and entertain her +long! (_Aloud._) Lady Cantire, I--er--have an appointment for which I +am already a little late; but before I go, I should like to tell you +how much pleasure it has given me to know that my poor verse has won +your approval; appreciation from---- + +_Lady Cantire._ I'm afraid you must have been misinformed, +Mr.--a--Blair. There are so many serious publications claiming +attention in these days of literary over-production that I have long +made it a rule to read no literature of a lighter order that has not +been before the world for at least ten years. I may be mistaken, but I +infer from your appearance that your own work must be of a +considerably more recent date. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). If she imagines she's going to snub +Me----! (_Aloud._) Then I was evidently mistaken in gathering from +some expressions in your daughter's letter that---- + +_Lady Cantire._ Entirely. You are probably thinking of some totally +different person, as my daughter has never mentioned having written to +you, and is not in the habit of conducting _any_ correspondence +without my full knowledge and approval. I think you said you had some +appointment; if so, pray don't consider yourself under any necessity +to remain here. + +_Undershell._ You are very good; I will not. (_To himself, as he +retires._) Awful old lady, that! I quite thought she would know all +about that letter, or I should never have---- However, I said nothing +to compromise any one, luckily! + +_Lady Culverin_ (_entering_). Good morning, Rohesia. So glad you felt +equal to coming down. I was almost afraid--after _last night_, you +know. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_offering a cold cheekbone for salutation_). I am in +my usual health, thank you, Albinia. As to last night, if you _must_ +ask a literary Socialist down here, you might at least see that he is +received with common courtesy. You may, for anything _you_ can tell, +have advanced the Social Revolution ten years in a single evening! + +_Lady Culverin._ My _dear_ Rohesia! If you remember, it was you +yourself who----! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_closing her eyes_). I am in no condition to _argue_ +about it, Albinia. The slightest exercise of your own common sense +would have shown you---- But there, no great harm has been done, +fortunately, so let us say no more about it. I have something more +agreeable to talk about. I've every reason to hope that Maisie and +dear Gerald Thicknesse---- + +_Lady Culverin_ (_astonished_). Maisie? But I thought Gerald +Thicknesse spoke as if----! + +_Lady Cantire._ Very possibly, my dear. I have always refrained from +giving him the slightest encouragement, and I wouldn't put any +pressure upon dear Maisie for the world--still, I have my feelings as +a mother, and I can't deny that, with such prospects as he has now, it +_is_ gratifying for me to think that they may be coming to an +understanding together at this very moment. She is showing him the +grounds; which I always think are the great charm of Wyvern, so +_secluded_! + +_Lady Culverin_ (_puzzled_). Together! At this very moment! But--but +surely Gerald has _gone_? + +_Lady Cantire._ Gone! What nonsense, Albinia! Where in the world +should he have gone to? + +_Lady Culverin._ He _was_ leaving by the 10.40, I know. For Aldershot. +I ordered the cart for him, and he said good-bye after breakfast. He +seemed so dreadfully down, poor fellow, and I quite concluded from +what he said that Maisie must have---- + +_Lady Cantire._ Impossible, my dear, quite impossible! I tell you he +is _here_. Why, only a few minutes ago, Mrs. Chatteris was telling +me---- Ah, here she is to speak for herself. (_To_ Mrs. Chatteris, +_who appears, arrayed for divine service_.) Mrs. Chatteris, did I, or +did I _not_, understand you to say just now that my daughter +Maisie----? + +_Mrs. Chatteris_ (_alarmed_). But, _dear_ Lady Cantire, I had no idea +you would disapprove. Indeed you seemed---- And really, though she +certainly seems to find him rather well--_sympathetic_--I'm +sure--_almost_ sure--there can be nothing serious--at present. + +_Lady Cantire._ Thank you, my dear, I merely wished for an answer to +my question. And you see, Albinia, that Gerald Thicknesse can hardly +have gone yet, since he is walking about the grounds with Maisie. + +_Mrs. Chatteris._ Captain Thicknesse? But he _has_ gone, Lady Cantire! +I saw him start. I didn't mean _him_. + +_Lady Cantire._ Indeed? then I shall be obliged if you will say who it +is you _did_ mean. + +_Mrs. Chatteris._ Why, only her old friend and admirer--that little +poet man, Mr. Blair. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_to herself_). And I actually _sent_ him to her! +(_Rising in majestic wrath._) Albinia, whatever comes of this, +remember I shall hold _you_ entirely responsible! + + [_She sweeps out of the room; the other two ladies look + after her, and then at one another, in silent + consternation._ + + + + +PART XXII + +A DESCENT FROM THE CLOUDS + + + _In the Elizabethan Garden._ Lady MAISIE _and_ UNDERSHELL + _are on a seat in the Yew Walk_. TIME--_About_ 11 A.M. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_softly_). And you really meant to go away, and never +let one of us know what had happened to you! + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). How easy it is after all to be a hero! +(_Aloud._) That certainly _was_ my intention, only I was--er--not +permitted to carry it out. I trust you don't consider I should have +been to blame? + +_Lady Maisie_ (_with shining eyes_). To _blame_? Mr. Blair! As if I +could possibly do that! (_To herself._) He doesn't even see _how_ +splendid it was of him! + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I begin to believe that I can do _no_ +wrong in her eyes! (_Aloud._) It was not altogether easy, believe me, +to leave without even having seen your face; but I felt so strongly +that it was better so. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_looking down_). And--do you still feel that? + +_Undershell._ I must confess that I am well content to have failed. It +was such unspeakable torture to think that you, Lady Maisie, _you_ of +all people, would derive your sole idea of my personality from such an +irredeemable vulgarian as that veterinary surgeon--the man Spurrell! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, with an almost imperceptible start_). I +suppose it's only natural he should feel like that--but I wish--I _do_ +wish he had put it just a little differently! (_Aloud._) Poor Mr. +Spurrell! perhaps he was not exactly---- + +_Undershell._ Not _exactly_! I assure you it is simply inconceivable +to me that, in a circle of any pretensions to culture and refinement, +an ill-bred boor like that could have been accepted for a single +moment as--I won't say a Man of _Genius_, but---- + +_Lady Maisie_ (_the light dying out of her eyes_). No, _don't_--don't +go on, Mr. Blair. We were all excessively stupid, no doubt, but you +must make allowances for us--for _me_, especially. I have had so few +opportunities of meeting people who are really distinguished--in +literature, at least. Most of the people I know best are--well, not +exactly _clever_, you know. I so often wish I was in a set that cared +rather more about intellectual things! + +_Undershell_ (_with infinite pity_). How you must have pined for freer +air! How you must have starved on such mental provender as, for +example, the vapid and inane commonplaces of that swaggering +carpet-soldier, Captain--Thickset, isn't it? + +_Lady Maisie_ (_drawing back into her corner_). You evidently don't +know that Captain Thicknesse distinguished himself greatly in the +Soudan, where he was very severely wounded. + +_Undershell._ Possibly; but that is scarcely to the point. I do not +question his efficiency as a fighting animal. As to his intelligence, +perhaps, the less said the better. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_contracting her brows_). Decidedly. I ought to have +mentioned at once that Captain Thicknesse is a very old friend of +mine. + +_Undershell._ Really? _He_, at least, may be congratulated. But pray +don't think that I spoke with any personal animus; I merely happen to +entertain a peculiar aversion for a class whose profession is +systematic slaughter. In these Democratic times, when Humanity is +advancing by leaps and bounds towards International Solidarity, +soldiers are such grotesque and unnecessary anachronisms. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, with a little shiver_). Oh, why does +he--why _does_ he? (_Aloud._) I should have thought that, until war +itself is an anachronism, men who are willing to fight and die for +their country could never be quite unnecessary. But we won't discuss +Captain Thicknesse, particularly now that he has left Wyvern. Suppose +we go back to Mr. Spurrell. I know, of course, that, in leaving him in +ignorance as you did, you acted from the best and highest motives; but +still---- + +_Undershell._ It is refreshing to be so thoroughly understood! I think +I know what your "but still" implies--why did I not foresee that he +would infallibly betray himself before long? I _did_. But I gave him +credit for being able to sustain his part for another hour or +two--until I had gone, in fact. + +_Lady Maisie._ Then you didn't wish to spare _his_ feelings as well as +ours? + +_Undershell._ To be quite frank, I didn't trouble myself about him: my +sole object was to retreat with dignity; he had got himself somehow or +other into a false position he must get out of as best he could. After +all, he would be none the worse for having filled _my_ place for a few +hours. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_slowly_). I see. It didn't matter to you whether he +was suspected of being an impostor, or made to feel uncomfortable, +or--or anything. Wasn't that a little unfeeling of you? + +_Undershell._ Unfeeling! I allowed him to keep my evening clothes, +which is more than a good many---- + +_Lady Maisie._ At all events, he may have had to pay more heavily than +you imagine. I wonder whether---- But I suppose anything so unromantic +as the love affairs of a veterinary surgeon would have no interest for +you? + +_Undershell._ Why not, Lady Maisie? To the Student of Humanity, and +still more to the Poet, the humblest love-story may have its +interesting--even its suggestive--aspect. + +_Lady Maisie._ Well, I may tell you that it seems Mr. Spurrell has +long been attached, if not actually engaged, to a maid of mine. + +_Undershell_ (_startled out of his self-possession_). You--you don't +mean to Miss Phillipson? + +_Lady Maisie._ That _is_ her name. How very odd that you---- But +perhaps Mr. Spurrell mentioned it to you last night? + +_Undershell_ (_recovering his sangfroid_). I am hardly likely to have +heard of it from any other quarter. + +_Lady Maisie._ Of course not. And did he tell you that she was here, +in this very house? + +_Undershell._ No, he never mentioned _that_. What a remarkable +coincidence! + +_Lady Maisie._ Yes, rather. The worst of it is that the foolish girl +seems to have heard that he was a guest here, and have jumped to the +conclusion that he had ceased to care for her; so she revenged herself +by a desperate flirtation with some worthless wretch she met in the +housekeeper's room, whose flattery and admiration, I'm very much +afraid, have completely turned her head! + +_Undershell_ (_uncomfortably_). Ah, well, she must learn to forget +him, and no doubt, in time---- How wonderful the pale sunlight is on +that yew hedge! + +_Lady Maisie._ You are not very sympathetic! I should not have told +you at all, only I wanted to show you that if poor Mr. Spurrell _did_ +innocently usurp your place, he may have lost---- But I see all this +only bores you. + +_Undershell._ Candidly, Lady Maisie, I can't affect a very keen +interest in the--er--gossip of the housekeeper's room. Indeed, I am +rather surprised that _you_ should condescend to listen to---- + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). This is really _too_ much! (_Aloud._) It +never occurred to me that I was "condescending" in taking an interest +in a pretty and wayward girl who happens to be my maid. But then, I'm +not a Democrat, Mr. Blair. + +_Undershell._ I--I'm afraid you construed my remark as a rebuke; which +it was not at all intended to be. + +_Lady Maisie._ It would have been rather superfluous if it had been, +wouldn't it? (_Observing his growing uneasiness._) I'm afraid you +don't find this bench quite comfortable? + +_Undershell._ I--er--moderately so. (_To himself._) There's a female +figure coming down the terrace steps. It's horribly like---- But that +must be my morbid fancy; still, if I can get Lady Maisie away, just in +case---- (_Aloud._) D--don't you think sitting still becomes a +little--er--monotonous after a time? Couldn't we---- + + [_He rises, spasmodically._ + +_Lady Maisie_ (_rising too_). Certainly; we have sat here quite long +enough. It is time we went back. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). We shall meet her! and I'm almost sure +it's---- I _must_ prevent any---- (_Aloud._) Not _back_, Lady Maisie! +You--you promised to show me the orchid-house--you did, indeed! + +_Lady Maisie._ Very well; we can go in, if you care about orchids. +It's on our way back. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). This is too awful! It _is_ that girl +Phillipson. She is looking for somebody! Me! (_Aloud._) On second +thoughts, I don't think I _do_ care to see the orchids. I detest them; +they are such weird, unnatural, extravagant things. Let us turn back +and see if there are any snowdrops on the lawn behind that hedge. I +love the snowdrop, it is so trustful and innocent, with its pure +green-veined---- _Do_ come and search for snowdrops! + + [Illustration: "DO COME AND SEARCH FOR SNOWDROPS!"] + +_Lady Maisie._ Not just now. I think--(_as she shields her eyes with +one hand_)--I'm not quite sure yet--but I rather fancy that must be my +maid at the other end of the walk. + +_Undershell_ (_eagerly_). _I_ assure you, Lady Maisie, you are quite +mistaken. Not the _least_ like her! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_astonished_). Why, how can you possibly tell that, +without having seen her, Mr. Blair? + +_Undershell._ I--I meant---- You described her as "pretty," you know. +This girl is plain--distinctly plain! + +_Lady Maisie._ I don't agree at all. However, it certainly is +Phillipson, and she seems to have come out in search of me; so I had +better see if she has any message. + +_Undershell._ She hasn't. I'm _positive_ she hasn't. She--she wouldn't +walk like _that_ if she had. (_In feverish anxiety._) Lady Maisie, +shall we turn back? She--she hasn't seen us _yet_! + +_Lady Maisie._ Really, Mr. Blair! I don't quite see why I should run +away from my own maid!... What is it, Phillipson? + + [_She advances to meet_ PHILLIPSON, _leaving_ UNDERSHELL + _behind, motionless_. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). It's all over! That confounded girl +recognises me. I saw her face change! She'll be jealous, I _know_ +she'll be jealous--and then she'll tell Lady Maisie everything!... I +wish to Heaven I could hear what she is saying. Lady Maisie seems +agitated.... I--I might stroll gently on and leave them; but it would +look too like running away, perhaps. No, I'll stay here and face it +out like a man! I won't give up just yet. (_He sinks limply upon the +bench._) After all, I've been in worse holes than this since I came +into this infernal place, and I've always managed to scramble +out--triumphantly too! If she will only give me five minutes alone, I +_know_ I can clear myself; it isn't as if I had done anything to be +_ashamed_ of.... She's sent away that girl. She seems to be expecting +me to come to her.... I--I suppose I'd better. + + [_He rises with effort, and goes towards_ Lady MAISIE _with + a jaunty unconsciousness that somehow has the air of + stopping short just above the knees_. + + + + +PART XXIII + +SHRINKAGE + + + _In the Yew Walk._ + +_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, as she watches_ UNDERSHELL _approaching_). +How badly he walks, and what _does_ he mean by smiling at me like +that? (_Aloud, coldly._) I am sorry, Mr. Blair, but I must leave you +to finish your stroll alone; my maid has just told me---- + +_Undershell_ (_vehemently_). Lady Maisie, I ask you, in common +fairness, not to judge me until you have heard _my_ version. You will +not allow the fact that I travelled down here in the same compartment +with your maid, Phillipson---- + +_Lady Maisie_ (_wide-eyed_). The _same_! But _we_ came by that train. +I thought you missed it? + +_Undershell._ I--I was not so fortunate. It is rather a long and +complicated story, but---- + +_Lady Maisie._ I'm afraid I really can't listen to you _now_, Mr. +Blair, after what I have heard from Phillipson---- + +_Undershell._ I implore you not to go without hearing both sides. Sit +down again--if only for a minute. I feel confident that I can explain +everything satisfactorily. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_sitting down_). I can't imagine what there is to +explain--and really I ought, if Phillipson---- + +_Undershell._ You know what maids _are_, Lady Maisie. They embroider. +Unintentionally, I dare say, but still, they _do_ embroider. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_puzzled_). She is very clever at mending lace, I know, +though what _that_ has to do with it---- + +_Undershell._ Listen to me, Lady Maisie. I came to this house at your +bidding. Yes, but for your written appeal, I should have treated the +invitation I received from your aunt with silent contempt. Had I +obeyed my first impulse and ignored it, I should have been spared +humiliations and indignities which ought rather to excite your pity +than--than any other sensation. Think--try to realise what my feelings +must have been when I found myself expected by the butler here to sit +down to supper with him and the upper servants in the housekeeper's +room! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_shocked_). Oh, Mr. Blair! Indeed, I had no---- You +weren't _really_! How _could_ they? What _did_ you say? + +_Undershell_ (_haughtily_). I believe I let him know my opinion of the +snobbery of his employers in treating a guest of theirs so cavalierly. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_distressed_). But surely--_surely_ you couldn't +suppose that my uncle and aunt were capable of---- + +_Undershell._ What else _could_ I suppose, under the circumstances? It +is true I have since learnt that I was mistaken in this particular +instance; but I am not ignorant of the ingrained contempt you +aristocrats have for all who live by exercising their intellect--the +bitter scorn of birth for brains! + +_Lady Maisie._ I am afraid the--the contempt is all on the other side; +but if _that_ is how you feel about it, I don't wonder that you were +indignant. + +_Undershell._ Indignant! I was _furious_. In fact, nothing would have +induced me to sit down to supper at all, if it hadn't been for---- + +_Lady Maisie_ (_in a small voice_). Then--you _did_ sit down? With the +servants! Oh, Mr. Blair! + +_Undershell._ I thought you were already aware of it. Yes, Lady +Maisie, I endured even that. But (_with magnanimity_) you must not +distress yourself about it now. If _I_ can forget it, surely you can +do so! + +_Lady Maisie._ Can I? That _you_ should have consented, for any +consideration whatever; how could you--how _could_ you? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). She admires me all the more for it. But I +_knew_ she would take the right view! (_Aloud, with pathos._) I was +only compelled by absolute starvation. I had had an unusually light +lunch, and I was so hungry! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_after a pause_). That explains it, of course.... I +hope they gave you a good supper! + +_Undershell._ Excellent, thank you. Indeed, I was astonished at the +variety and even luxury of the table. There was a pyramid of +quails---- + +_Lady Maisie._ I am pleased to hear it. But I thought there was +something you were going to explain. + +_Undershell._ I have been _endeavouring_ to explain to the best of my +ability that if I have undesignedly been the cause of--er--a temporary +diversion in the state of Miss Phillipson's affections, no one could +regret more deeply than I that the--er--ordinary amenities of the +supper-table should have been mistaken for---- + +_Lady Maisie_ (_horrified_). Oh, stop, Mr. Blair, please stop! I don't +want to hear any more. I see now. It was _you_ who---- + +_Undershell._ Of course it was I. Surely the girl herself has been +telling you so just now! + +_Lady Maisie._ You really thought _that_ possible, too? She simply +came with a message from my mother. + +_Undershell_ (_slightly disconcerted_). Oh! If I had known it was +merely _that_. However, I am sure I need not ask you to treat my--my +communication in the strictest confidence, Lady Maisie. + +_Lady Maisie._ Indeed, that is _perfectly_ unnecessary, Mr. Blair. + +_Undershell._ Yes, I felt from the first that I could trust you--even +with my life. And I cannot regret having told you, if it has enabled +you to understand me more thoroughly. It is such a relief that you +know all, and that there are no more secrets between us. You _do_ feel +that I only acted as was natural and inevitable under the +circumstances? + +_Lady Maisie._ Oh yes, yes. I--I dare say you could not help it. I +mean you did quite, _quite_ right! + +_Undershell._ Ah, how you comfort me with your fresh girlish---- You +are not _going_, Lady Maisie? + +_Lady Maisie_ (_rising_). I must. I ought to have gone before. My +mother wants me. No, you are not to come too; you can go on and gather +those snowdrops, you know. + + [_She walks slowly back to the house._ + +_Undershell_ (_looking after her_). She took it wonderfully well. I've +made it all right, or she wouldn't have said that about the snowdrops. +Yes, she shall not be disappointed; she shall have her posy! + + + _In the Morning-room. Half an hour later._ + +_Lady Maisie_ (_alone--to herself_). Thank goodness, _that's_ over! It +was _awful_. I don't think I _ever_ saw mamma a deeper shade of plum +colour! _How_ I have been mistaken in Mr. Blair! That he could write +those lines-- + + "Aspiring unto that far-off Ideal, + I may not stoop to any meaner love," + +and yet philander with my poor foolish Phillipson the moment he met +her! And then to tell mamma about my letter like that! Why, even Mr. +Spurrell had more discretion--to be sure, _he_ knew nothing about +it--but _that_ makes no difference! Rhoda was right; I ought to have +allowed a margin--only I should never have allowed margin _enough_! +The worst of it is that, if mamma was unjust in some things she said, +she was right about _one_. I _have_ disgusted Gerald. He mayn't be +brilliant, but at least he's straightforward and loyal and a +gentleman, and--and he _did_ like me once. He doesn't any more--or he +wouldn't have gone away. And it may be ages before I ever get a +chance to let him see how _dreadfully_ sorry---- (_She turns, and +sees_ Captain THICKNESSE.) Oh, haven't you gone _yet_? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Yes, I went, but I've come back again. I--I +couldn't help it; 'pon my word I couldn't. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_with a sudden flush_). You--you weren't _sent_ +for--by--by any one? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ So _likely_ any one would send for me, isn't it? + +_Lady Maisie._ I don't know why I said that; it was silly, of course. +But how---- + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Ran it a bit too fine; got to Shuntin'bridge +just in time to see the tail end of the train disappearin'; wasn't +another for hours--not much to do _there_, don't you know. + +_Lady Maisie._ You might have taken a walk--or gone to church. + +_Captain Thicknesse._ So I might, didn't occur to me; and besides, +I--I remembered I never said good-bye to _you_. + +_Lady Maisie._ Didn't you? And whose fault was that? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Not mine, anyhow. You were somewhere about the +grounds with Mr. Blair. + +_Lady Maisie._ Now you mention it, I believe I was. We had--rather an +interesting conversation. Still, you might have come to look for me! + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Perhaps you wouldn't have been over and above +glad to see me. + +_Lady Maisie._ Oh yes, I should!--When it was to say _good-bye_, you +know! + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Ah! Well, I suppose I shall only be in the way +if I stop here any longer now. + +_Lady Maisie._ Do you? What makes you suppose that? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Nothin'! Saw your friend the bard hurryin' along +the terrace with a bunch of snowdrops; he'll be here in another---- + +_Lady Maisie_ (_in unmistakable horror_). Gerald, _why_ didn't you +tell me before? There's only just time! + + [_She flies to a door and opens it._ + +_Captain Thicknesse._ But I _say_, you know! Maisie, may I come too? + +_Lady Maisie._ Don't be a _goose_, Gerald. Of course you can, if you +like. + + [_She disappears in the conservatory._ + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). Can't quite make this out, but +I'm no end glad I came back! + + [_He follows quickly._ + +_Undershell_ (_entering_). I hoped I should find her here. (_He looks +round._) Her mother's gone--that's _something_! I dare say Lady +Maisie will come in presently. (_He sits down and re-arranges his +snowdrops._) It will be sweet to see her face light up when I offer +her these as a symbol of the new and closer link between us! (_He +hears the sound of drapery behind him._) Ah, already! (_Rising, and +presenting his flowers with downcast eyes._) I--I have ventured to +gather these--for you. (_He raises his eyes._) Miss Spelwane! + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_taking them graciously_). How very sweet of you, Mr. +Blair. Are they really for me? + + [Illustration: "HOW VERY SWEET OF YOU, MR. BLAIR. ARE THEY + REALLY FOR ME?"] + +_Undershell_ (_concealing his disappointment_). Oh--er--yes. If you +will give me the pleasure of accepting them. + +_Miss Spelwane._ I feel immensely proud. I was so afraid you must have +thought I was rather cross to you last night. I didn't mean to be. I +was feeling a little overdone, that was all. But you have chosen a +charming way of letting me see that I am forgiven. (_To herself._) +It's really _too_ touching. He certainly is a great improvement on the +other wretch! + +_Undershell_ (_dolefully_). I--I had no such intention, I assure you. +(_To himself._) I hope to goodness Lady Maisie won't come in before I +can get rid of this girl. I seem fated to be misunderstood here! + + + + +PART XXIV + +THE HAPPY DISPATCH + + + "Perhaps it was right to dissemble your love, but----" + + _In the Morning-room._ TIME--_About_ 1 P.M. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself alone_). I'm rather sorry that that Miss +Spelwane couldn't stay. She's a trifle angular--but clever. It was +distinctly sharp of her to see through that fellow Spurrell from the +first, and lay such an ingenious little trap for him. And she has a +great feeling for Literature--knows my verses by heart, I discovered, +quite accidentally. All the same, I wish she hadn't intercepted those +snowdrops. Now I shall have to go out and pick some more. (_Sounds +outside in the entrance hall._) Too late--they've got back from +church! + +_Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris_ (_entering with_ Lady RHODA, Sir RUPERT _and_ +BEARPARK). Such a nice, plain, simple service--I'm positively +_ravenous_! + +_Lady Rhoda._ Struck me some of those chubby choir-boys wanted +smackin'. What a business it seems to get the servants properly into +their pew--as bad as boxin' a string of hunters! As for _you_, +Archie, the way you fidgeted durin' the sermon was downright +disgraceful!... So _there_ you are, Mr. Blair; not been to church; but +I forgot--p'raps you're a Dissenter, or somethin'? + +_Undershell_ (_annoyed_). Only, Lady Rhoda, in the sense that I have +hitherto failed to discover any form of creed that commands my +intellectual assent. + +_Lady Rhoda_ (_unimpressed_). I expect you haven't tried. Are you +a--what d'ye call it?--a Lacedemoniac? + +_Undershell_ (_with lofty tolerance_). I _presume_ you mean a +"Laodicean." No, I should rather describe myself as a Deist. + +_Archie_ (_in a surly undertone_). What's a _Deast_ when he's at home? +If he'd said a _Beast_, now! (_Aloud, as_ PILLINER _enters with_ +Captain THICKNESSE.) Hullo, why, here's Thicknesse! So you _haven't_ +gone, after all, then? + +_Captain Thicknesse._ What an observant young beggar you are, +Bearpark! Nothin' escapes you. No, I haven't. (_To_ Sir RUPERT, +_rather sheepishly_.) Fact, is, sir, I--I somehow just missed the +train, and--and--thought I might as well come back, instead of waitin' +about, don't you know. + +_Sir Rupert_ (_heartily_). Why, of course, my dear boy, of course! +Never have forgiven you if you _hadn't_. Great nuisance for _you_, +though. Hope you blew the fool of a man up; he _ought_ to have been +round in plenty of time. + +_Captain Thicknesse._ Not the groom's fault, sir. I kept him waitin' a +bit, and--and we had to stop to shift the seat and that, and so---- + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). Great blundering booby! Can't he see +nobody wants him _here_? As if he hadn't bored poor Lady Maisie enough +at breakfast! Ah, well, I must come to her rescue once more, I +suppose! + +_Sir Rupert._ Half an hour to lunch! Anybody like to come round to the +stables? I'm going to see how my wife's horse Deerfoot is getting on. +Fond of horses, eh, Mr.--a--Undershell? Care to come with us? + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I've seen quite enough of _that_ beast +already! (_Aloud, with some asperity._) You must really excuse me, Sir +Rupert. I am at one with Mr. Ruskin--I _detest_ horses. + +_Sir Rupert._ Ah? Pity. We're rather fond of 'em here. But we can't +expect a poet to be a sportsman, eh? + +_Undershell._ For my own poor part, I confess I look forward to a day, +not far distant, when the spread of civilisation will have abolished +every form of so-called Sport. + +_Sir Rupert._ _Do_ you, though? (_After conquering a choke with +difficulty._) Allow me to hope that you will continue to enjoy the +pleasures of anticipation as long as possible. (_To the rest._) Well, +are you coming? + + [_All except_ UNDERSHELL _follow their host out_. + +_Undershell_ (_alone, to himself_). If they think I'm going to be +_patronised_, or suppress my honest convictions----! Now I'll go and +pick those---- (Lady MAISIE _enters from the conservatory_.) Ah, Lady +Maisie, I have been trying to find you. I had plucked a few snowdrops, +which I promised myself the pleasure of presenting to you. +Unfortunately they--er--failed to reach their destination. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_distantly_). Thanks, Mr. Blair; I am only sorry you +should have given yourself such unnecessary trouble. + +_Undershell_ (_detaining her, as she seemed about to pass on_). +I have another piece of intelligence which you may hear +less--er--philosophically, Lady Maisie. Your _bête noire_ has +returned. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_with lifted eyebrows_). My _bête noire_, Mr. Blair? + +_Undershell._ Why affect not to understand? I have an infallible +instinct in all matters concerning _you_, and, sweetly tolerant as you +are, I instantly divined what an insufferable nuisance you found our +military friend, Captain Thicknesse. + +_Lady Maisie._ There are limits even to _my_ tolerance, Mr. Blair. I +admit I find some people insufferable--but Captain Thicknesse is not +one of them. + +_Undershell._ Then appearances are deceptive indeed. Come, Lady +Maisie, surely you can trust _me_! + + [Lady CANTIRE _enters_. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_in her most awful tones_). Maisie, my dear, I appear +to have interrupted an interview of a somewhat confidential character. +If so, pray let me know it, and I will go elsewhere. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_calmly_). Not in the very least, mamma. Mr. Blair was +merely trying to prepare me for the fact that Captain Thicknesse has +come back; which was quite needless, as I happen to have heard it +already from his own lips. + +_Lady Cantire._ Captain Thicknesse come back! (_To_ UNDERSHELL.) I +wish to speak to my daughter. May I ask you to leave us? + +_Undershell._ With pleasure, Lady Cantire. (_To himself, as he +retires._) What a consummate actress that girl is! And what a +coquette! + +_Lady Cantire_ (_after a silence_). Maisie, what does all this mean? +No _nonsense_, now! What brought Gerald Thicknesse back? + +_Lady Maisie._ I _suppose_ the dog-cart, mamma. He missed his train, +you know. I don't think he minds--much. + +_Lady Cantire._ Let me tell you _this_, my dear. It is a great deal +more than you _deserve_ after---- How long has he come back for? + +_Lady Maisie._ Only a few hours; but--but from things he said, I fancy +he would stay on longer--if Aunt Albinia asked him. + +_Lady Cantire._ Then we may consider that settled; he stays. (Lady +CULVERIN _appears_.) Here _is_ your aunt. You had better leave us, my +dear. + + + _Somewhat later; the Party have assembled for Lunch._ + +_Sir Rupert_ (_to his wife_). Well, my dear, I've seen that young +Spurrell (smart fellow he is, too, thoroughly up in his business), and +you'll be glad to hear he can't find anything seriously wrong with +Deerfoot. + +_Undershell_ (_in the background, to himself_). No more could I, for +that matter! + +_Sir Rupert._ He's clear it isn't navicular, which Adams was afraid +of, and he thinks, with care and rest, you know, the horse will be as +fit as a fiddle in a very few days. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). Just exactly what I _told_ them; but the +fools wouldn't believe _me_! + +_Lady Culverin._ Oh, Rupert, I _am_ so glad. How clever of that nice +Mr. Spurrell! I was afraid my poor Deerfoot would have to be shot. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). She may thank me that he _wasn't_. And +this other fellow gets all the credit for it. How like Life! + +_Lady Maisie._ And, Uncle Rupert, how about--about Phillipson, you +know? Is it all right? + +_Sir Rupert._ Phillipson? Oh, why, 'pon my word, my dear, didn't think +of asking. + +_Lady Rhoda._ But _I_ did, Maisie. And they met this mornin', and it's +all settled, and they're as happy as they can be. Except that he's on +the look out for a mysterious stranger, who disappeared last night, +after tryin' to make desperate love to her. He is determined, if he +can find him, to give him a piece of his mind. + + [UNDERSHELL _endeavours to conceal his extreme uneasiness_. + +_Pilliner._ And the whole of a horsewhip. He invited my opinion of it +as an implement of castigation. Kind of thing, you know, that would +impart "proficiency in the _trois temps_, as danced in the most select +circles," in a single lesson to a lame bear. (_To himself._) I drew my +little bow at a venture, and I'm hanged if it hasn't touched him up! +There's _something_ fishy about this chap--I felt it all along. Still, +I don't see what more I can do--or I'd do it, for poor old Gerry +Thicknesse's sake. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I don't stir a step out of this house +while I'm here, that's all! + +_Sir Rupert._ Ha-ha! Athletic young chap that. Glad to see him in the +field next Tuesday. By the way, Albinia, you've heard how Thicknesse +here contrived to miss his train this morning? Our gain, of course; +but still we must manage to get you back to Aldershot to-night, my +boy, or you'll get called over the coals by your colonel when you _do_ +put in an appearance, hey? Now, let's see; what train ought you to +catch? + + [_He takes up_ "Bradshaw" _from a writing-table_. + +_Lady Cantire_ (_possessing herself of the volume_). Allow me, Rupert, +my eyes are better than yours. _I_ will look out his trains for him. +(_After consulting various pages._) Just as I _thought_! Quite +impossible for him to reach North Camp to-night now. There isn't a +train till six, and _that_ gets to town just too late for him to drive +across to Waterloo and catch the last Aldershot train. So there's no +more to be said. + + [_She puts_ "Bradshaw" _away_. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_with undisguised relief_). Oh, well, dessay +they won't kick up much of a row if I don't get back till +to-morrow,--or the day _after_, if it comes to that. + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). It _shan't_ come to that--if _I_ can +prevent it! Lady Maisie is quite in despair, I can see. (_Aloud._) +Indeed? I was--a--not aware that discipline was quite so lax as that +in the British Army. And surely officers should set an example of---- + + [_He finds that his intervention has produced a distinct + sensation, and, taking up the discarded_ "Bradshaw" + _becomes engrossed in its study_. + +_Captain Thicknesse_ (_ignoring him completely_). It's like this, Lady +Culverin. Somehow I--I muddled up the dates, don't you know. Mean to +say, got it into my head to-day was the 20th, instead of only the +18th. (_Lamely._) That's how it _was_. + +_Lady Culverin._ Delightful, my dear Gerald. Then we shall keep you +here till Tuesday, of _course_! + +_Undershell_ (_looking up from_ "Bradshaw," _impulsively_). Lady +Culverin, I see there's a very good train which leaves Shuntingbridge +at 3.15 this afternoon, and gets---- + + [_The rest regard him with unaffected surprise and + disapproval._ + +_Lady Cantire_ (_raising her glasses_). Upon my word, Mr. Blair! If +you will kindly leave Captain Thicknesse to make his own +arrangements----! + +_Lady Maisie_ (_interposing hastily_). But, mamma, you must have +misunderstood Mr. Blair! As if he would _dream_ of---- He was merely +mentioning the train he wishes to go by himself. _Weren't_ you, Mr. +Blair? + +_Undershell_ (_blinking and gasping_). I--eh? Just so, that--that +_was_ my intention, certainly. (_To himself._) Does she at all realise +what this will cost her? + +_Lady Culverin._ My dear Mr. Blair, I--I'd no notion we were to lose +you so soon; but if you're really quite _sure_ you must go---- + +_Lady Cantire_ (_sharply_). Really, Albinia, we must give him credit +for knowing his own mind. He tells you he is _obliged to go_! + +_Lady Culverin._ Then of course we must let you do _exactly_ as you +please. + +_Pilliner_ (_to himself_). Lady Maisie's a little brick! No notion she +had it _in_ her. No occasion to bother myself about the beggar now. +"Let him alone and he'll go home, and carry his tail beneath him!" + + [_All except_ Miss SPELWANE _breathe more freely_; TREDWELL + _appears_. + +_Lady Culverin._ Oh, lunch, is it, Tredwell? Very well. By the bye, +see that some one packs Mr. Undershell's things for him, and tell them +to send the dog-cart round after lunch in time to catch the 3.15 from +Shuntingbridge. + +_Archie_ (_sotto voce, to_ PILLINER). We don't want any _more_ missin' +of trains, eh? I'll go round and see the cart properly balanced myself +_this_ time. + +_Pilliner_ (_in the same tone_). No, dear boy, you're not to be +trusted! _I'll_ see that done, then the bard and his train will be +alike in one respect--_neither_ of 'em 'll be missed! + +_Miss Spelwane_ (_to herself, piqued._) Going already! I wish I had +never touched his ridiculous snowdrops! + +_Lady Culverin._ Well, shall we go in to lunch, everybody? + + [_They move in irregular order towards the dining-hall._ + +_Undershell_ (_in an undertone to_ Lady MAISIE, _as they follow +last_). Lady Maisie, I--er--this is just a _little_ unexpected. I +confess I don't quite understand your precise motive in suggesting +so--so hasty a departure. + +_Lady Maisie_ (_without looking at him_). Don't you, Mr. Blair? +Perhaps--when you come to think over it all quietly--you _will_. + + [_She passes on, leaving him perplexed._ + + [Illustration: "PERHAPS--WHEN YOU COME TO THINK OVER IT ALL + QUIETLY--YOU WILL."] + +_Undershell_ (_to himself_). Shall I? I certainly can't say I do +just---- Why, yes, I _do_! That bully Spurrell with his horsewhip! She +dreads an encounter between us--and I should much prefer to avoid it +myself. Yes; that's it, of course. She is willing to sacrifice +anything rather than endanger _my_ personal safety! What unselfish +angels some women are! Even that sneering fellow Drysdale will be +impressed when I tell him this.... Yes, it's best that I should go--I +see that now. I don't so much mind leaving. Without any false +humility, I can hardly avoid seeing that, even in the short time I +have been amongst these people, I have produced a decided impression. +And there is at least one--perhaps _two_--who will miss me when I am +gone. + + [_He goes into the Dining-hall, with restored complacency._ + + +THE END. + + +PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES. + + + * * * * * + + +THE NOVEL SERIES. + + +This is a series of works, each in One Volume, by the best Writers of +the day, English and American. The Volumes are suitable for the pocket +and the shelf; they are convenient to handle, being of the square 16mo +size, while from their appearance, as well as from their literary +merit, they deserve a place in the library. The volumes are bound in +cloth, and are uniform, except in thickness and in price. The prices +will be 2s., 3s., and 4s. + + +Volume 1 of the Series, Price 2s. + +THE STORY OF BESSIE COSTRELL, + +By Mrs. HUMPHRY WARD. + + The CHRISTIAN WORLD.--"Mrs. Ward has done nothing finer than + this brief story. The sustained interest, which does not + permit the reader to miss a line; the vivid clearness in + which each character stands out in self-revelation; the + unfailing insight into the familiar and confused workings of + the village mind--all represent work of the highest class. + 'The Story of Bessie Costrell' will become an English + classic." + + The TIMES.--"There are masterly touches and striking + sentences in many pages of this little volume.... Mrs. + Humphry Ward's admirers will say that she has seldom written + with more force than in describing the tardy remorse of the + hard, unrelenting husband." + + The MANCHESTER GUARDIAN.--"As full of power as anything Mrs. + Ward has written, and the impetus of its style, together with + the charm belonging to many of its turns of thought, as well + as of phrase, would of themselves suffice to hold any reader + who takes it up until he has turned its last page." + + The DAILY TELEGRAPH.--"An admirable example of Mrs. Humphry + Ward's literary power; a brief, decided, and masterful + sketch." + + +Volume 2 of the Series, Price 3s. + +LYRE AND LANCET. By F. Anstey. + +_With Twenty-Four Full-page Illustrations._ + + The SCOTSMAN.--"The story makes most delightful reading, full + of quiet fun." + + +The titles and particulars of Works by + + HENRY SETON MERRIMAN, Author of "With Edged Tools," etc. + Mrs. L. B. WALFORD, Author of "Mr. Smith," etc. + SYDNEY CHRISTIAN, Author of "Sarah" and "Lydia." + Miss ELIZA ORNE WHITE, Author of "Winterborough," "Miss Brooks," etc. + +and by other writers of high reputation, who will contribute to the +Series, will be announced in due course. + + + * * * * * + + +WORKS BY F. ANSTEY. + + +_POPULAR EDITION_, Crown 8vo, 6_s._ _CHEAP EDITION_, Crown 8vo, limp +red cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._ + +THE TALKING HORSE; + +AND OTHER TALES. + + From THE SATURDAY REVIEW.--"A capital set of stories, + thoroughly clever and witty, often pathetic, and always + humorous." + + From THE ATHENÆUM.--"The grimmest of mortals, in his most + surly mood, could hardly resist the fun of 'The Talking + Horse.'" + + +_POPULAR EDITION_, Crown 8vo, 6_s._ _CHEAP EDITION_, Crown 8vo, limp +red cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._ + +THE GIANT'S ROBE. + + From THE PALL MALL GAZETTE.--"The main interest of the book, + which is very strong indeed, begins when Vincent returns, when + Harold Caffyn discovers the secret, when every page threatens + to bring down doom on the head of the miserable Mark. Will he + confess? Will he drown himself? Will Vincent denounce him? + Will Caffyn inform on him? Will his wife abandon him?--we ask + eagerly as we read and cannot cease reading till the puzzle is + solved in a series of exciting situations." + + +_POPULAR EDITION_, Crown 8vo, 6_s._ _CHEAP EDITION_, Crown 8vo, limp +red cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._ + +THE PARIAH. + + From THE SATURDAY REVIEW.--"In 'The Pariah' we are more than + ever struck by the sharp intuitive perception and the + satirical balancing of judgment which makes the author's + writings such extremely entertaining reading. There is not a + dull page--we might say, not a dull sentence--in it.... The + girls are delightfully drawn, especially the bewitching Margot + and the childish Lettice. Nothing that polish and finish, + cleverness, humour, wit, and sarcasm can give is left out." + + +_CHEAP EDITION_, Crown 8vo, limp red cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._ + +VICE VERSÂ; + +OR, A LESSON TO FATHERS. + + From THE SATURDAY REVIEW.--"If ever there was a book made up + from beginning to end of laughter, and yet not a comic book, + or a 'merry' book, or a book of jokes, or a book of pictures, + or a jest book, or a tomfool book, but a perfectly sober and + serious book, in the reading of which a sober man may laugh + without shame from beginning to end, it is the book called + 'Vice Versâ; or, a Lesson to Fathers.'... We close the book, + recommending it very earnestly to all fathers in the first + instance, and their sons, nephews, uncles, and male cousins + next." + + +_CHEAP EDITION_, Crown 8vo, limp red cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._ + +A FALLEN IDOL. + + From THE TIMES.--"Mr. Anstey's new story will delight the + multitudinous public that laughed over 'Vice Versâ'.... The + boy who brings the accursed image to Champion's house, Mr. + Bales, the artist's factotum, and above all Mr. Yarker, the + ex-butler who has turned policeman, are figures whom it is as + pleasant to meet as it is impossible to forget." + + +LONDON: SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15, WATERLOO PLACE. + + + * * * * * + + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Obvious typographical errors repaired. + +Hyphenation inconsistencies retained (booby trap and booby-trap). + +Illustrations have been re-positioned to the corresponding action in +the scene. + +Italic font is indicated by _underscores_ (text version only). + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lyre and Lancet, by F. Anstey + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41589 *** |