Spurrell (to himself, uncomfortably conscious of the expectant Thomas in his rear). Must write something to this beggar, I suppose; it'll keep him quiet. (To Mrs. Brooke-Chatteris.) I—I just want to write a line or two. Could you oblige me with a lead-pencil?
Mrs. Chatteris. You are really going to write! At a dinner-party, of all places! Now how delightfully original and unconventional of you! I promise not to interrupt till the inspiration is over. Only, really, I'm afraid I don't carry lead-pencils about with me—so bad for one's frocks, you know!
Thomas (in his ear). I can lend you a pencil, Sir, if you require one.
[He provides him with a very minute stump.
Spurr. (reading what he has written on the back of Undershell's missive). "Will be in my room (Verney Chamber) as soon after ten as possible.
"J. Spurrell."
(He passes the paper to Thomas, surreptitiously.) There, take him that.
[Thomas retires.
Archie (to himself). The calm cheek of these writin' chaps! I saw him takin' notes under the table! Lady Rhoda ought to know the sort of fellow he is—and she shall! (To Lady Rhoda, in an aggrieved undertone.) I should advise you to be jolly careful what you say to your other neighbour; he's takin' it all down. I just caught him writin'. He'll be bringing out a satire, or whatever he calls it, on us all by-and-by—you see if he won't!
Lady Rhoda. What an ill-natured boy you are! Just because he can write, and you can't. And I don't believe he's doin' anythin' of the sort. I'll ask him—I don't care! (Aloud, to Spurrell.) I say, I know I'm awfully inquisitive—but I do want to know so—you've just been writin' notes or somethin', haven't you? Mr. Bearpark declares you're goin' to take them all off here—you're not really, are you?