Lyre and Lancet: A Story in Scenes

_Undershell_ (_to himself alone_). I'm rather sorry that that Miss Spelwane couldn't stay. She's a trifle angular--but clever. It was distinctly sharp of her to see through that...

_Mrs. Pomfret._ Why, he asked to be excused to-night, Mr. Tredwell. You see some of the visitors' coachmen are putting up their horses here, and he's helping Mr. Checkley entert...

_Undershell_ (_to himself, as he emerges from a back staircase_). I suppose this _is_ the corridor? The boy said the name of the room was painted up over the door.... Ah, there...

_Pilliner._ Off? To-day! You don't mean to tell me your chief is such an inconsiderate old ruffian as to expect you to travel back to your Tommies on the Sabbath! You could wait...

_Undershell_ (_to himself, as he follows_ ADAMS). Now is my time to arrange about getting away from here. (_To_ ADAMS.) By the bye, I suppose you can let me have a conveyance of...

_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Formidable old party opposite me in the furs! Nice-looking girl over in the corner; not a patch on my Emma, though! Wonder why I catch 'em sampling me...

_Undershell._ I presume evening dress is not indispensable in the housekeeper's room; but I can hardly make even the simplest toilet until you are good enough to bring up my por...

_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I must say it's rather rough luck on that poor devil. I get his dress suit, and all _he_ comes in for is my booby-trap! (PHILLIPSON, _wearing a hollan...

_Lady Cantire_ (_aggrieved_). We have been in the house for the best part of an hour, Rupert--as you might have discovered by inquiring--but no doubt you preferred your comfort...

_Lady Cantire_ (_in reply to_ Lady CULVERIN). Tea? oh yes, my dear; anything _warm_! I'm positively perished--that tedious cold journey and the long drive afterwards! I always t...

_In the Housekeeper's Room at Wyvern_; Mrs. POMFRET, _the Housekeeper, in a black silk gown and her smartest cap, is seated in a winged armchair by the fire, discussing domestic...

_Mrs. Earwaker._ Yes, dear Lady Lullington, I've always insisted on each of my girls adopting a distinct line of her own, and the result has been _most_ satisfactory. Louisa, my...

_Lady Cantire_ (_entering_). Down already, Albinia? I _thought_ if I made haste I should get a quiet chat with you before anybody else came in. What is that paper? Oh, the list...

_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). Poets don't seem to have much self-possession. He seems perfectly overcome by hearing my name like that. If only he doesn't lose his head completel...

_Undershell_ (_to himself_). How easy it is after all to be a hero! (_Aloud._) That certainly _was_ my intention, only I was--er--not permitted to carry it out. I trust you don'...

_Sir Rupert_ (_aloud_). You mean Mr. Spurrell? It's all right. Mr. Spurrell will see the horse to-morrow. (TREDWELL _disguises his utter bewilderment_.) By the way, we expected...

_Lady Cantire._ Wait. (_She looks round._) What has become of that young Mr. Androm----? (_Perceiving_ SPURRELL, _who has been modestly endeavouring to efface himself_.) Ah, _th...

_Phillipson._ Mr. James Spurrell appears to have elevated himself to a very different sphere from what he occupied when _I_ used to know him, my lady; though how and why he come...

_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. BROO...

_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). So he _ain't_ the bard!... Now I see why Maisie's been behavin' so oddly all the evenin'; she spotted him, and didn't like to speak out. Tri...

_Undershell_ (_in a head voice_). I fear the merely ephemeral does not appeal to me. But I should like to make a little experiment. (_To the_ Bookstall Clerk.) A--do you happen...

_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, as she watches_ UNDERSHELL _approaching_). How badly he walks, and what _does_ he mean by smiling at me like that? (_Aloud, coldly._) I am sorry, Mr....

_Lady Culverin._ So _here_ you are, Rupert! Not _very_ busy, are you? I won't keep you a moment. (_She goes to a window._) Such a nuisance it's turning out wet, with all these p...

_Archie Bearpark_ (_to_ BERTIE PILLINER). You speak for yourself, Pillener. _I_ didn't come to be petted. Came to see if Lady Rhoda wouldn't come and toboggan down the big stair...

HENRY SETON MERRIMAN, Author of "With Edged Tools," etc. Mrs. L. B. WALFORD, Author of "Mr. Smith," etc. SYDNEY CHRISTIAN, Author of "Sarah" and "Lydia." Miss ELIZA ORNE WHITE,...

The CHRISTIAN WORLD.--"Mrs. Ward has done nothing finer than this brief story. The sustained interest, which does not permit the reader to miss a line; the vivid clearness in wh...