MARTIN. [Looking under the sofa.] Just you hustle, young man, and don't give me any back-answers.
[Having completed his examination of the sofa, he moves to the
sideboard, and fusses round that.
SMITHERS. [Methodically shaking out each napkin.] I tell you she's cross.
MARTIN. [Hard at work, searching.] Doesn't mind disturbing us, in the midst of our supper!
WILLIAM. [Who, all the time, has been on all fours searching.] We're dirt, that's what we are—dirt.
MARTIN. [Reprovingly.] William, I've told you before—
WILLIAM. Very sorry, Mr. Martin, but this is the first time I've accepted an engagement at a stockbroker's. [He has been crawling round the curtains at the back, shaking them; pulling hard at one of them he dislodges the lower part.] Lor! Now I've done it!
SMITHERS. Clumsy!
MARTIN. [Severely.] That comes of too much talk Never mind the curtain—go on looking.
[WILLIAM drops on to his hands and knees again; HARVEY WESTERN comes into the room, perturbed and restless. He is a well-preserved man of fifty.