LORD LOAM (with hauteur). That is my affair, sir. (With a Parthian shot as he withdraws stiffly from the room.) The Gov. has never put my head in a bucket.
ERNEST (coming to rest on one of his buckets, and speaking with excusable pride. To TWEENY). Nor mine for nearly three months. It was only last week, Tweeny, that he said to me, ‘Ernest, the water cure has worked marvels in you, and I question whether I shall require to dip you any more.’ (Complacently.) Of course that sort of thing encourages a fellow.
TWEENY (who has now arranged the dinner table to her satisfaction). I will say, Erny, I never seen a young chap more improved.
ERNEST (gratified). Thank you, Tweeny, that’s very precious to me.
(She retires to the fire to work the great bellows with her foot, and ERNEST turns to TREHERNE, who has come in looking more like a cow-boy than a clergyman. He has a small box in his hand which he tries to conceal.) What have you got there, John?
TREHERNE. Don’t tell anybody. It is a little present for the Gov.; a set of razors. One for each day in the week.
ERNEST (opening the box and examining its contents.) Shells! He’ll like that. He likes sets of things.
TREHERNE (in a guarded voice). Have you noticed that?
ERNEST. Rather.
TREHERNE. He’s becoming a bit magnificent in his ideas.