LYRE AND LANCET.
(A Story in Scenes.)
PART XI.—TIME AND THE HOUR.
Scene XIX.—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!
Thomas (in his ear). I can lend you a pencil, Sir, if you require one.
[He provides him with a very minute stump.
Spurr. (reading what he has written on the back of Undershell's missive). "Will be in my room (Verney Chamber) as soon after ten as possible.
"J. Spurrell."
(He passes the paper to Thomas, surreptitiously.) 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-by—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 doin' 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?
Spurr. (to himself). That sulky young chap has spotted it! (Aloud, stammering.) I—take everything off? Here! I—I assure 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?
Spurr. (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 Cant. Now, that's one of your quibbles, Dr. Rodney, 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 Cant. (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 assert 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 sex will be extinct—and then they'll be sorry. There'll be nobody 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 Cant. (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!
Pill. (sweetly). How nice and encouraging of you, dear Lady Cantire, to take up the cudgels for me like that!
[The Countess 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.
Pill. (sotto voce, to Miss Spelwane). Have you quite done sitting on that poor unfortunate man? I heard you!
Miss Spelw. (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 were easy to tame. After that, the subject dropped—somehow.
Pill. 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 Spelw. So he was; but they changed it all at the last moment: it really was rather provoking. I could have talked to him.
Pill. Lady Rhoda appears to be consoling him. Poor dear 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 Spelw. Because you deliberately picked out the worst bits, and read them as badly as you could!
Pill. Ah, well, he's here to read them for himself now. I daresay he'd be delighted to be asked.
Miss Spelw. Do you know, Bertie, that's rather a good idea of yours. I'll ask him to read us something to-night.
Pill. (aghast). To-night! With all these people here? I say, they'll never stand it, you know.
[Lady Culverin gives the signal.
Miss Spelw. (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 Cant. (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 veracity). I shall be—ah—all impatience, Lady Cantire. (To himself.) I fervently trust that a repetition of this experience may yet be spared me!
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 passes the wine to Spurrell with a scowl.) What are you drinkin'? Claret? What do you do your writin' on, now, as a general thing?
Spurr. (on the defensive). On paper, Sir, when I've any to do. Do you do yours on a slate?
Captain Thicknesse. I say, that's rather good. Had you there, Bearpark!
Spurr. (to Archie, lowering his voice). Look here, I see you're trying to put a spoke in my wheel. You saw me writing at dinner, and went and told that young lady I was going to take everything off there and then, which you must have known I wasn't likely to do. Now, Sir, it's no business of yours that I can see; but, as you seem to be interested, I may tell you that I shall do it in my own room, as soon as I leave this table, and there will be no fuss or publicity about it whatever. I hope you're satisfied now?
Archie. Oh, I'm satisfied. (He rises.) Left my cigarette-case upstairs—horrid bore—must go and get it.
Capt. Thick. They'll be bringing some round in another minute.
Archie. Prefer my own. (To himself, as he leaves the hall.) I knew I was right. That bounder is meaning to scribble some rot about us all! He's goin' straight up to his room to do it.... Well, he may find a little surprise when he gets there!
Capt. Thick. (to himself). Mustn't let this poet fellow think I'm jealous; daresay, after all, there's nothing serious between them. Not that it matters to me; anyway, I may as well talk to him. I wonder if he knows anything about steeplechasin'.
[He discovers that Spurrell is not unacquainted with this branch of knowledge.
Scene XX.—A Corridor leading to the Housekeeper's Room.
Time—9.30 P.M.
Undershell (to himself). If I wasn't absolutely compelled by sheer hunger, I would not touch a morsel in this house. But I can't get my things back till after ten. When I do, I will insist on a conveyance to the nearest inn. In the meantime I must sup. After all, no one need know of this humiliating adventure. And if I am compelled to consort with these pampered menials, I think I shall know how to preserve my dignity—even while adapting myself to their level. And that girl will be there—a distinctly redeeming fact in the situation. I will be easy and even affable; I will lay aside all foolish pride; it would be unreasonable to visit their employer's snobbery upon them. I hear conversation inside this room. This must be the door. I—I suppose I had better go in.
[He enters.
"I shall be—ah—all impatience, Lady Cantire."