Mr. Wackerbath.
"Lordly!" You can call it what you like. I call it a tom-fool cross between the Brighton Pavilion and the Palm-house at Kew! No billiard-room—and not a sign of any drainage system! And you have the brass—the—the unblushing effrontery to expect me to accept it as a first-class country-house with every modern convenience!
Pringle.
I must say that, in all my professional experience, I never——
Horace.
[Rising and approaching Mr. Wackerbath.] I'd better explain, Mr. Wackerbath. It seems that my old—er—friend here has, with the mistaken notion that he was helping me, built this palace for you himself. I haven't seen it—but, from what I know of his talents in that line, it can't be half a bad sort of place—in its way. And, anyhow, I shouldn't dream of making any charge under the circumstances. We make you a present of it—perhaps you didn't understand that? So, surely you will accept it in the—the spirit in which it was intended, what?
Mr. Wackerbath.
Accept it! See the finest position in the neighbourhood occupied by a jerry-built Moorish nightmare? Be the laughing-stock of the whole county? They'd call it "Wackerbath's Folly"! I won't have it on my land a day longer than I can help! I'll go to law, sir, and compel you and your officious partner here to pull the thing down! I—I'll fight the case as long as I can stand!
Fakrash.
[Who has been regarding him through this speech with glowering eyes.] "As long as thou canst stand"? That will be for no long period, O thou litigious one! [He points at him with his forefinger.] On all fours—[Mr. Wackerbath starts in speechless indignation, and bends slightly forward]—thankless dog that thou art, and crawl henceforth for the remainder of thy days!