[Curtsey's and exits l. d.
Stuart (calling out r.). This way, Fred. Here’s a quiet nook saved from the universal ruin and bareness of downstairs.
[Comes down.
Enter Fred, b. d., slowly.
Stuart. Isn’t this luck?
Fred (gloomily). There isn’t any such thing! Or if there is, I never get any.
Stuart. Now, Fred, you can’t say that after this. You and I don’t want to stay and smoke with the men. Neither do we want to join the ladies. The other rooms are as bare and uncomfortable as waxed floors and camp-chairs can make them. I suggest trying upstairs, and when I discover and pilot you to this oasis in the desert, you at once begin to grumble.
Fred. I’m sorry I’m bad company, Mr. Stuart; but if I’m so to you, just think what I must be to myself.
Stuart. There is something in that.
Fred. And you only see me occasionally, and I’m with myself day and night.