CRICHTON. I should prefer you to say, my lady, that I have done it for the house.
AGATHA. Thank you, Crichton. Mary, be nicer to him. (But LADY MARY has begun to read again.) If there was any way in which we could show our gratitude.
CRICHTON. If I might venture, my lady, would you kindly show it by becoming more like Lady Mary. That disdain is what we like from our superiors. Even so do we, the upper servants, disdain the lower servants, while they take it out of the odds and ends.
(He goes, and they bury themselves in cushions.)
AGATHA. Oh dear, what a tiring day.
CATHERINE. I feel dead. Tuck in your feet, you selfish thing.
(LADY MARY is lying reading on another couch.)
LADY MARY. I wonder what he meant by circumstances might alter cases.
AGATHA (yawning). Don’t talk, Mary, I was nearly asleep.
LADY MARY. I wonder what he meant by the same person might not be master, and the same persons might not be servants.