Tred. But there ain't any next train up to-night—being a loop line—not to mention that I've sent the fly away, and they can't spare no one at the stables to drive you in. Come Sir, make the best of it. I've had my horders to see that you're made comfortable, and Mrs. Pomfret and me will expect the pleasure of your company at supper in the 'ousekeeper's room, 9.30 sharp. I'll send the Steward's Room Boy to show you to your room.
[He goes, leaving Undershell speechless.
Und. (almost foaming). The insolence of these cursed aristocrats! Lady Culverin will see me when she has time, forsooth! I am to be entertained in the servants' hall! This is how our upper classes honour poetry! I won't stay a single hour under their infernal roof. I'll walk. But where to? And how about my luggage?
[Phillipson returns.
Phill. Mr. Tredwell says you want to go already! It can't be true! Without even waiting for supper?
Und. (gloomily). Why should I wait for supper in this house?
Phill. Well, I shall be there; I don't know if that's any inducement.
[She looks down.
Und. (to himself). She is a singularly bewitching creature; and I'm starving. Why shouldn't I stay—if only to shame these Culverins? It will be an experience—a study in life. I can always go afterwards. I will stay. (Aloud.) You little know the sacrifice you ask of me, but enough; I give way. We shall meet—(with a gulp)—in the housekeeper's room!
Phill. (highly amused). You are a comical little man. You'll be the death of me if you go on like that!