Undershell (choking). Not mind that! Take me to her at once!
Tredwell. Couldn't take it on myself, sir, really. There's no particular 'urry. I'll let her ladyship know you're 'ere; and if she wants you, she'll send for you; but, with a party staying in the 'ouse, and others dining with us to-night, it ain't likely as she'll have time for you till to-morrow.
Undershell. Oh, then whenever her ladyship should find leisure to recollect my existence, will you have the goodness to inform her that I have taken the liberty of returning to town by the next train?
Tredwell. Lor! Mr. Undershell, you aren't so pressed as all that, are you? I know my lady wouldn't like you to go without seeing you personally; no more wouldn't Sir Rupert. And I understood you was coming down for the Sunday!
Undershell (furious). So did I—but not to be treated like this!
Tredwell (soothingly). Why, you know what ladies are. And you couldn't see Deerfoot—not properly, to-night, either.
Undershell. I have seen enough of this place already. I intend to go back by the next train, I tell you.
Tredwell. But there ain't any next train up to-night—being a loop line—not to mention that I've sent the fly away, and they can't spare no one at the stables to drive you in. Come, sir, make the best of it. I've had my horders to see that you're made comfortable, and Mrs. Pomfret and me will expect the pleasure of your company at supper in the 'ousekeeper's room, 9.30 sharp. I'll send the steward's room boy to show you to your room.
[He goes, leaving Undershell speechless.
Undershell (almost foaming). The insolence of these cursed aristocrats! Lady Culverin will see me when she has time, forsooth! I am to be entertained in the servants' hall! This is how our upper classes honour Poetry! I won't stay a single hour under their infernal roof. I'll walk. But where to? And how about my luggage?