[He goes up beyond the arch and beckons; the First and Second Waiters come in, and he explains in dumb show that he wants another cover laid. One waiter rearranges the chairs, the other brings plate and glasses. Mr. Wackerbath then seems to find that the table is too near the balcony, and orders it to be moved down, which is done under his instructions.
Sylvia.
[As Mr. Wackerbath goes up to find the waiters, to her mother, in an undertone.] Mother, what is the matter with Mr. Pringle? He seems quite—quite odd.
Mrs. Futvoye.
I can't make him out at all, my dear. He seems to be offended with us—and for no reason that I can see.
Sylvia.
Nor I.
[They continue the conversation in dumb show, while the Professor, on a chair, is talking to Mrs. Wackerbath on the sofa on the left.
Pringle.
[In an undertone to Horace, as they stand by the fireplace on the right.] I suppose you know why I've accepted that fellow's hospitality?