_Mrs. Chatteris_ (_to herself_). It's quite amusing how jealous these poets are of one another! (_Aloud._) Is it true they get a b.u.t.t 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 a.s.s. (_Aloud, to_ Lady MAISIE.) Jolly old hall this is, with the banners, and the gallery, and that--makes you fancy some of those old mediaeval 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. a.s.sure 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!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "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 h.o.m.oeopathic 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 Undersh.e.l.l thinks that the gentleman who is occupying the Verney Chamber has, doubtless by inadvertence, put on Mr. Undersh.e.l.l'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._

PART XI

TIME AND THE HOUR

_In the Dining-hall._

_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!