_Thomas_ (_in his ear_). I can lend you a pencil, sir, if you require one.

[_He provides him with a very minute stump._

_Spurrell_ (_reading what he has written on the back of_ UNDERSh.e.l.l'S _missive_). "Will be in my room (Verney Chamber) as soon after ten as possible.

"J. SPURRELL."

(_He pa.s.ses the paper to_ THOMAS _surrept.i.tiously_.) 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 bye--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 doing 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?

_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). That sulky young chap has spotted it!

(_Aloud, stammering._) I--take everything off? _Here!_ I--I a.s.sure 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?

_Spurrell_ (_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!

_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 Cantire._ Now, that's one of your quibbles, my dear Bishop, 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 Cantire_ (_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 a.s.sert 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 s.e.x will be extinct--and then they'll be sorry. There'll be n.o.body 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 Cantire_ (_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!

_Pilliner_ (_sweetly_). How nice and encouraging of you, dear Lady Cantire, to take up the cudgels for me like that!

[Lady CANTIRE _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_.

_Pilliner_ (_sotto voce, to_ Miss SPELWANE). Have you quite done sitting on that poor unfortunate man? _I_ heard you!

_Miss Spelwane_ (_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 would eat out of his hand. After that, the subject dropped--somehow.

_Pilliner._ 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 Spelwane._ So he was; but they changed it all at the last moment; it really was rather provoking. I _could_ have talked to _him_.

_Pilliner._ Lady Rhoda appears to be consoling him. Poor dear old 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 Spelwane._ Because you deliberately picked out the worst bits, and read them as badly as you could!

_Pilliner._ Ah, well, he's here to read them for himself now. I dare say he'd be delighted to be asked.

_Miss Spelwane._ Do you know, Bertie, that's rather a good idea of yours. I'll ask him to read us something to-night.

_Pilliner_ (_aghast_). To-night! With all these people here? I say, they'll never _stand_ it, you know.

[Lady CULVERIN _gives the signal_.

_Miss Spelwane_ (_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 Cantire_ (_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 strict veracity_). I shall be--ah--all impatience, Lady Cantire. (_To himself._) I fervently trust that a repet.i.tion of this experience may yet be spared me!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I SHALL BE--AH--ALL IMPATIENCE, LADY CANTIRE."]

_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 _pa.s.ses the wine to_ SPURRELL _with a scowl_.) What are you drinkin'? Claret? What do you do your writin'

on, now, as a general thing?

_Spurrell_ (_on the defensive_). On paper, sir, when I've any to do.

Do you do yours on a _slate_?