Martha, take the radishes from Mr. Collins.
Martha.
Yes, ma'am.
[The maid tries to hold at once—basket, hoe, hat, and gloves, as she stands in a corner, open-mouthed.]
Mr. Collins.
[Again emerging from the door.] Do not make yourself uneasy about your own apparel, Miss Elizabeth; Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance in us which becomes herself and daughter—I——
Charlotte.
[Impatiently.] Oh, do go, Mr. Collins! Lady Catherine will be here in an instant!
[She shuts the door on Mr. Collins.]
Elizabeth.