Mr. G. Out, is he? that's a pity! I wanted to see him on important business. But look 'ere—p'raps his Missus is in—She'll do! (To himself.) I gen'ally git along with the wimmin-folk—some 'ow!
The Butler. I can't say if her Ladyship is at home. If you like to send up your name, I'll inquire.
Mr. G. You tell her Mr. BENJAMIN GULCHER is 'ere, if she'll step down a minnit. She needn't 'urry, yer know, if she's 'aving her dinner or cleanin' herself. (To himself, as the Butler departs noiselessly.) Civil-spoken party that—one o' the lodgers, seemin'ly. Roomy sort o' crib this 'ere. Wonder what they pay a week for it!
Butler (returning). Her Ladyship will see you, if you will step this way.
[Mr. G. is taken up a staircase, and ushered into the presence of Lady NASEBY, who is seated at her writing-table.
Lady N. (still writing). One moment, please. My husband is out just now—but if you will kindly state the nature of your business with him, I daresay I could—(She looks up.) Good Heavens! What could have possessed CLARKSON to show such a person as that in here! (To herself.)
Mr. G. (in his most ingratiating manner). Well, Mum, in the absence of his Lordship, I am sure you'll prove a 'ighly agreerble substitoot!
Lady N. (freezingly). May I ask you to tell me—in two words—what it is you wish to see him about.
Mr. G. Certingly you may, Mum! It's like this 'ere. I want your good Gentleman to promise me his vote and influence for Mr. JOE QUELCH, as we're runnin' for a Labour Candidate this Election.
Lady N. I really cannot answer for my husband's views on political matters, Mr.—a—SQUELCHER; I make it a rule never to interfere.