F. Anstey - Lyre and Lancet - A Story in Scenes

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.

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. 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.

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!

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!

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

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