(They give themselves up for lost. LORD LOAM tries to sink out of sight.)
CRICHTON. In the regrettable slang of the servants’ hall, my lady, the master is usually referred to as the Gov.
LADY BROCKLEHURST. I see. (She turns to LORD LOAM.) You—
LORD LOAM (reappearing). Yes, I understand that is what they call me.
LADY BROCKLEHURST (to CRICHTON). You didn’t even take your meals with the family?
CRICHTON. No, my lady, I dined apart.
(Is all safe?)
LADY BROCKLEHURST (alas). You, girl, also? Did you dine with Crichton?
TWEENY (scared). No, your ladyship.
LADY BROCKLEHURST (fastening on her). With whom?