_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 gra.s.s, 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 c.o.c.k!

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 gla.s.s 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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "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 UNDERSh.e.l.l). This is your room, sir--you'll find a fire lit and all.

_Undersh.e.l.l_ (_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.

_Undersh.e.l.l._ 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.

_Undersh.e.l.l._ The Pugs' Parlour?

_Boy._ What we call the 'ousekeeper's room, among ourselves, sir.

_Undersh.e.l.l._ 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!

_Undersh.e.l.l._ 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 a.s.sure 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!