DEB. (A little stiffly.) Allen is Mr. Rollitt.
LUKE. Oh, I wish I’d known that this afternoon. Dick’s been dying to see him and his mother all day. I wanted him to wait till the morning, but he would come down to-night.
DEB. Oh, I’m sure Allen and Aunt will both be delighted. (Approaching Mike, who still stands aside and looks down.) Won’t you be seated, Mr. Hanningford? (He makes no sign—hesitatingly.) Dick. (Mike still takes no notice. Luke has risen and crossed with assumed carelessness, towards him and nozu from opposite side of him to Deborah gives him a sharp kick. Mike starts and looks up.),
LUKE. (Turning away carelessly.) Lost in reveries of old scenes, Dick, eh? Miss Deacon is asking you if you won’t sit down.
MIKE. (Sitting L.c.) Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss, I’m sure. Oh, thank you, I will.
DEB. (Going.) I shan’t be a minute. They are only somewhere about the yard.
(Exit Deborah c. door l. down stage. Luke goes to door, looks off, closes door, then goes up to door c., looks off, then closes it. Comes r. of Mike, who is l.c.)
LUKE. (After waiting an instant, and making sure that no one is about.) Try and keep some of your wits about you, Mike—if you don’t mind.
MIKE. (Sulkily.) I don’t see the darned good of this part of the trick, so I tell you.
LUKE. I’m afraid we shall have a rough time if your memory doesn’t improve. I’ve explained to you at least half-a-dozen times that it was as a sort of trial canter that I wanted to come here. If anyone in Devon can tell who is Dick Hanningford and who isn’t it will be these Rollitts. If you pass here you pass anywhere.