Spurrell (to himself). They're at it again! How many more of 'em want a pup! (Aloud.) Sorry to be disobliging, but——
Miss Spelwane (joining her hands in supplication). Not if I implore you? Oh, Mr. Spurrell, I've quite set my heart on hearing you read aloud to us. Are you really cruel enough to refuse?
Spurrell. Read aloud! Is that what you want me to do? But I'm no particular hand at it. I don't know that I've ever read aloud—except a bit out of the paper now and then—since I was a boy at school!
Lady Cantire. What's that I hear? Mr. Spurrell professing incapacity to read aloud? Sheer affectation! Come, Mr. Spurrell, I am much mistaken if you are wanting in the power to thrill all hearts here. Think of us as instruments ready to respond to your touch. Play upon us as you will; but don't be so ungracious as to raise any further obstacles.
Spurrell (resignedly). Oh, very well, if I'm required to read, I'm agreeable.
[Murmurs of satisfaction.
Lady Cantire. Hush, please, everybody! Mr. Spurrell is going to read. My dear Bishop, if you wouldn't mind just—— Lord Lullington, can you hear where you are? Where are you going to sit, Mr. Spurrell? In the centre will be best. Will somebody move that lamp a little, so as to give him more light?
Spurrell (to himself, as he sits down). I wonder what we're supposed to be playing at! (Aloud.) Well, what am I to read, eh?
Miss Spelwane (placing an open copy of "Andromeda" in his hands with a charming air of deferential dictation). You might begin with this—such a dear little piece! I'm dying to hear you read it!
