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._