_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._
_Spurr._ (_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-by--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 doin' 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?
_Spurr. (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?
_Spurr. (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!
[Illustration: "I shall be--ah--all impatience, Lady Cantire."]
_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 Cant._ Now, that's one of your quibbles, Dr. RODNEY, 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 Cant. (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 Cant. (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!
_Pill. (sweetly)._ How nice and encouraging of you, dear Lady CANTIRE,
to take up the cudgels for me like that!
[_The_ Countess _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_.
_Pill._ (_sotto voce, to_ Miss SPELWANE). Have you quite done sitting on
that poor unfortunate man? _I_ heard you!
_Miss Spelw. (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 were easy to tame. After
that, the subject dropped--somehow.
_Pill._ 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 Spelw._ So he was; but they changed it all at the last moment: it
really was rather provoking. I _could_ have talked to _him_.
_Pill._ Lady RHODA appears to be consoling him. Poor dear 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 Spelw._ Because you deliberately picked out the worst bits, and
read them as badly as you could!
_Pill._ Ah, well, he's here to read them for himself now. I daresay he'd
be delighted to be asked.
_Miss Spelw._ Do you know, BERTIE, that's rather a good idea of yours.
I'll ask him to read us something to-night.
_Pill. (aghast)._ To-night! With all these people here? I say, they'll
never _stand_ it, you know.
[Lady CULVERIN _gives the signal_.
_Miss Spelw._ (_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 Cant._ (_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 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!
_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?
_Spurr._ (_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!
_Spurr._ (_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 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.
_Capt. Thick._ 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!
_Capt. Thick._ (_to himself_). Mustn't let this poet fellow think I'm
jealous; daresay, after all, there's nothing serious between them.
Not that it matters to me; anyway, 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._