QUEEN. I hope they have given him a comfortable one.
J.B. It's the one I used to have. There's a good spring-bed in it, and a kettle-ring for the whisky.
QUEEN. Oh, that's all right, then.
J.B. Will he be staying for long? Ma'am.
QUEEN. Only for a week, I'm afraid. Why?
J.B. It's about the shooting I was thinking: whether it was the deer or the grouse he'd want to be after.
QUEEN. I don't think Lord Beaconsfield is a sportsman.
J.B. I know that, Ma'am, well enough. But there's many who are not sportsmen that think they've got to do it—when they come north of the Tweed.
QUEEN. Lord Beaconsfield will not shoot, I'm sure. You remember him,
Brown, being here before?
J.B. Eh! Many years ago, that was; he was no but Mr. Disraeli then. But he was the real thing, Ma'am: oh, a nice gentleman.