Mrs. Earwaker. Well, I got her a Christian Year and a covered basket, and quantities of tracts, and so on; but, somehow, she didn't seem to get on with it. So I let her give it up; and now she's gone in for poker-etching instead.
Lady Lullington (by an act of unconscious cerebration). Poker-etching! How very, very nice!
[Her eyelids close gently.
Lady Rhoda. Oh, but indeed, Lady Culverin, I thought he was perfectly charmin': not a bit booky, you know, but as clever as he can stick; knows more about terriers than any man I ever met!
Lady Culverin. So glad you found him agreeable, my dear. I was half afraid he might strike you as—well, just a little bit common in his way of talking.
Lady Rhoda. P'raps—but, after all, one can't expect those sort of people to talk quite like we do ourselves, can one?
Lady Cantire. Is that Mr. Spurrell you are finding fault with, Albinia? It is curious that you should be the one person here who—— I consider him a very worthy and talented young man, and I shall most certainly ask him to dinner—or lunch, at all events—as soon as we return. I dare say Lady Rhoda will not object to come and meet him.
Lady Rhoda. Rather not. I'll come, like a shot!
Lady Culverin (to herself). I suppose it's very silly of me to be so prejudiced. Nobody else seems to mind him!
Miss Spelwane (crossing over to them). Oh, Lady Culverin, Lady Lullington has such a delightful idea—she's just been saying how very, very nice it would be if Mr. Spurrell could be persuaded to read some of his poetry aloud to us presently. Do you think it could be managed?