LORD LOAM (who has been searching the index for the letter L). Excellent, excellent. At the same time I must say, Ernest, that the whole book is about yourself.
ERNEST (genially). As the author—
LORD LOAM. Certainly, certainly. Still, you know, as a peer of the realm—(with dignity)—I think, Ernest, you might have given me one of your adventures.
ERNEST. I say it was you who taught us how to obtain a fire by rubbing two pieces of stick together.
LORD LOAM (beaming). Do you, do you? I call that very handsome. What page?
(Here the door opens, and the well-bred CRICHTON enters with the evening papers as subscribed for by the house. Those we have already seen have perhaps been introduced by ERNEST up his waistcoat. Every one except the intruder is immediately self-conscious, and when he withdraws there is a general sigh of relief. They pounce on the new papers. ERNEST evidently gets a shock from one, which he casts contemptuously on the floor.)
AGATHA (more fortunate). Father, see page 81. ‘It was a tiger-cat,’ says Mr. Woolley, ‘of the largest size. Death stared Lord Loam in the face, but he never flinched.’
LORD LOAM (searching his book eagerly). Page 81.
AGATHA. ‘With presence of mind only equalled by his courage, he fixed an arrow in his bow.’
LORD LOAM. Thank you, Ernest; thank you, my boy.