Steptoe (very stiffly). Pardon me, sir, you have been totally misinformed. Such an expression is not current here.
Mrs. Pomfret (more stiffly still). It is never alluded to in my presence except as the 'ousekeeper's room, which is the right and proper name for it. There may be some other term for it in the servants' 'all for anything I know to the contrary—but, if you'll excuse me for saying so, Mr. Undershell, we'd prefer for it not to be repeated in our presence.
Undershell (confusedly). I—I beg ten thousand pardons. (To himself.) To be pulled up like this for trying to be genial—it's really too humiliating!
Steptoe (relaxing). Well, well, sir; we must make some allowances for a neophyte. You'll know better another time, I dare say. Miss Phillipson here has been giving you a very favourable character as a highly agreeable rattle, Mr. Undershell. I hope we may be favoured with a specimen of your social talents later on. We're always grateful here for anything in that way—such as a recitation now, or a comic song, or a yumorous imitation—anything, in short, calculated to promote the general harmony and festivity will be appreciated.
Miss Stickler (acidly). Provided it is free from any helement of coarseness, which we do not encourage—far from it!
Undershell (suppressing his irritation). You need be under no alarm, madam. I do not propose to attempt a performance of any kind.
Phillipson. Don't be so solemn, Mr. Undershell! I'm sure you can be as comical as any play-actor when you choose!
Undershell. I really don't know how I can have given you that impression. If you expect me to treat my lyre like a horse-collar, and grin through it, I'm afraid I am unable to gratify you.
Steptoe (at sea). Capital, sir, the professional allusion very neat. You'll come out presently, I can see, when supper's on the table. Can't expect you to rattle till you've something inside of you, can we?
Miss Stickler. Reelly, Mr. Steptoe, I am surprised at such commonness from you!