Tred. Oh, then I know who he is. We expect him right enough. He's a partner in a crack firm of Vets. We've sent for him special. I'd better see to him, if you don't mind finding your own way to the Housekeeper's Room, second door to the left, down that corridor. (Phillipson departs.) Good morning to you, Mr.—ah—Mr.——?
Undershell (coming forward). Mr. Undershell. Lady Culverin expects me, I believe.
Tred. Quite correct, Mr. Undershell, Sir. She do. Leastwise, I shouldn't say myself she'd require to see you—well, not before to-morrow morning—but you won't mind that, I daresay.
Und. (choking). Not mind that! Take me to her at once!
Tred. Couldn't take it on myself, Sir, really. There's no particular 'urry. I'll let her ladyship know you're 'ere; and if she wants you, she'll send for you; but, with a party staying in the 'ouse, and others dining with us to-night, it ain't likely as she'll have time for you till to-morrow.
Und. Oh then, whenever her ladyship should find leisure to recollect my existence, will you have the goodness to inform her that I have taken the liberty of returning to town by the next train?
Tred. Lor! Mr. Undershell, you aren't so pressed as all that, are you? I know my lady wouldn't like you to go without seeing you personally; no more wouldn't Sir Rupert. And I understood you was coming down for the Sunday!
Und. (furious). So did I—but not to be treated like this!
Tred. (soothingly). Why, you know what ladies are. And you couldn't see Deerfoot—not properly, to-night, either.
Und. I have seen enough of this place already. I intend to go back by the next train, I tell you.