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_.