PART XII

DIGNITY UNDER DIFFICULTIES

_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 politics with_ Lady CULVERIN'S _maid_, Miss STICKLER. _The Chef_, M. RIDEVOS, _is resting on the sofa, in languid converse with_ Mlle. CHIFFON, Miss SPELWANE'S _maid_; PILLINER'S _man_, LOUCH, _watches_ STEPTOE, Sir RUPERT'S _valet, with admiring envy, as he makes himself agreeable to_ Miss PHILLIPSON, _who is in demi-toilette, as are all the other ladies' maids present_.

_Miss Stickler_ (_in an impressive undertone_). All I _do_ say, Mrs. Pomfret, ma'am, is this: if that girl Louisa marches into the pew to-morrow, as she did _last_ Sunday, before the second laundry maid--and her only under-scullery maid--such presumptiousness should be put a stop to in future!

_Mrs. Pomfret_ (_wheezily_). Depend upon it, my dear, it's her ignorance; but I shall most certainly speak about it. Girls must be taught that ranks was made to be respected, and the precedency into that pew has come down from time immemoriable, and is not to be set aside by such as her while _I_'m 'ousekeeper here.

_Mlle. Chiffon_ (_in French, to_ M. RIDEVOS). You have the air fatigued, my poor friend! Oh, there--but fatigued!

_M. Ridevos._ Broken, Mademoiselle, absolutely broken. But what will you? This night I surpass myself. I achieve a masterpiece--a sublime pyramid of quails with a sauce that will become classic. I pay now the penalty of a veritable crisis of nerves. It is of my temperament as artist.

_Mlle. Chiffon._ And me, my poor friend, how I have suffered from the cookery of these others--I who have the stomach so feeble, so fastidious! Figure to yourself an existence upon the villainous curry, the abominable "Iahristue," beloved by these barbarians, but which succeed with me not at all--oh, but not at all! Since I am here--ah, the difference! I digest as of old--I am gay. But next week to return with mademoiselle to the curry, my poor friend, what regrets!

_M. Ridevos._ For me, dear mademoiselle, for me the regrets--to hear no more the conversation, so spiritual, so sympathetic, of a fellow-countrywoman. For remark that here they are stupid--they comprehend not. And the old ones they roll at me the eyes to make terror. Behold this Gorgon who approaches. She adores me, my word of honour, this ruin!

[Miss STICKLER _comes up to the sofa smiling in happy unconsciousness_.

_Miss Stickler_ (_graciously_). So you've felt equal to joining us for once, Mossoo! We feel it a very 'igh compliment, I can assure you. We've really been feeling quite 'urt at the way you keep to yourself--you might be a regular 'ermit for all _we_ see of you!

_M. Ridevos._ For invent, dear Mees, for create, ze arteeste must live ze solitaire as of rule. To-night--no! I emairge, as you see, to res-tore myself viz your smile.

_Miss Stickler_ (_flattered_). Well, I've always said, Mossoo, and I always _will_ say, that for polite 'abits and pretty speeches, give _me_ a Frenchman!

_M. Ridevos_ (_alarmed_). For me it is too moch 'appiness. For anozzer, ah!

[_He kisses his fingers with ineffable grace._

_Phillipson_ (_advancing to meet_ Miss DOLMAN, _who has just entered_). Why, I'd no idea I should meet _you_ here, Sarah! And how have you been getting on, dear? Still with----?

_Miss Dolman_ (_checking her with a look_). Her grace? No, we parted some time ago. I'm with Lady Rhoda Cokayne at present. (_In an undertone, as she takes her aside._) You needn't say anything here of your having known me at Mrs. Dickenson's. I couldn't afford to have it get about in the circle I'm in that I'd ever lived with any but the nobility. I'm sure you see what I mean. Of course I don't mind your saying we've _met_.

_Phillipson._ Oh, I _quite_ understand. I'll say nothing. I'm obliged to be careful myself, being maid to Lady Maisie Mull.

_Miss Dolman._ My _dear_ Emma! It _is_ nice seeing you again--such _friends_ as we used to be!

_Phillipson._ At her Grace's? I'm afraid you're thinking of somebody else. (_She crosses to_ Mrs. POMFRET.) Mrs. Pomfret, what's become of the gentleman I travelled down with--the horse doctor? I do hope he means to come in; he would amuse _you_, Mr. Steptoe. I never heard anybody go on like him; he _did_ make me laugh so!

_Mrs. Pomfret._ I really can't say _where_ he is, my dear. I sent up word to let him know he was welcome here whenever he pleased; but perhaps he's feeling a little shy about coming down.

_Phillipson._ Oh, I don't think he suffers much from _that_. (_As the door opens._) Ah, _there_ he is!

_Mrs. Pomfret_ (_rising, with dignity, to receive_ UNDERSHELL, _who enters in obvious embarrassment_). Come in, sir. I'm glad to see you've found your way down at last. Let me see, I haven't the advantage of knowing your--Mr. Undershell, _to_ be sure! Well, Mr. Undershell, we're very pleased to see you. I hope you'll make yourself quite at home. Her ladyship gave particular directions that we was to look after you--_most_ particular she was!

_Undershell._ You are very good, ma'am. I am obliged to Lady Culverin for her (_with a gulp_) condescension. But I shall not trespass more than a short time upon your hospitality.

_Mrs. Pomfret._ Don't speak of it as trespassing, sir. It's not often we have a gentleman of your profession as a visitor, but you are none the less welcome. Now I'd better introduce you all round, and then you won't feel yourself a stranger. Miss Phillipson you _have_ met, I know.

[_She introduces him to the others in turn_; UNDERSHELL _bows helplessly_.

_Steptoe_ (_with urbanity_). Your fame, sir, has preceded you. And you'll find us a very friendly and congenial little circle on a better acquaintance--if this is your first experience of this particular form of society?

_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I mustn't be stiff, I'll put them at their ease. (_Aloud._) Why, I must admit, Mr. Steptoe, that I have never before had the privilege of entering the--(_with an ingratiating smile all round him_) the "Pugs' Parlour," as I understand you call this very charming room.

[_The company draw themselves up and cough in disapprobation._

_Steptoe_ (_very stiffly_). Pardon _me_, sir, you have been totally misinformed. Such an expression is not current _here_.

_Mrs. Pomfret_ (_more stiffly still_). It is never alluded to in _my_ presence except as the 'ousekeeper's room, which is the right and proper name for it. There may be some other term for it in the servants' 'all for anything _I_ know to the contrary--but, if you'll excuse me for saying so, Mr. Undershell, we'd prefer for it not to be repeated in _our_ presence.

_Undershell_ (_confusedly_). I--I beg ten thousand pardons. (_To himself._) To be pulled up like this for trying to be genial--it's really _too_ humiliating!

_Steptoe_ (_relaxing_). Well, well, sir; we must make some allowances for a neophyte. You'll know better another time, _I_ dare say. Miss Phillipson here has been giving you a very favourable character as a highly agreeable rattle, Mr. Undershell. I hope we may be favoured with a specimen of your social talents later on. We're always grateful here for anything in that way--such as a recitation now, or a comic song, or a yumorous imitation--anything, in short, calculated to promote the general harmony and festivity will be appreciated.

_Miss Stickler_ (_acidly_). Provided it is free from any helement of coarseness, which we do _not_ encourage--far from it!

_Undershell_ (_suppressing his irritation_). You need be under no alarm, madam. I do not propose to attempt a performance of _any_ kind.

_Phillipson._ Don't be so solemn, Mr. Undershell! I'm sure you can be as comical as any play-actor when you choose!

_Undershell._ I really don't know how I can have given you that impression. If you expect me to treat my lyre like a _horse-collar_, and grin through it, I'm afraid I am unable to gratify you.

_Steptoe_ (_at sea_). Capital, sir, the professional allusion very neat. You'll come out presently, _I_ can see, when supper's on the table. Can't expect you to rattle till you've something _inside_ of you, can we?

_Miss Stickler._ Reelly, Mr. Steptoe, I _am_ surprised at such commonness from _you_!

_Steptoe._ Now you're too severe, Miss Stickler, you are indeed. An innocent little Judy Mow like that!

_Tredwell_ (_outside_). Don't answer _me_, sir. Ham I butler 'ere, or ham I _not_? I've a precious good mind to report you for such a hignorant blunder.... I don't want to hear another word about the gentleman's cloes--you'd no hearthly business for to do such a thing at all! (_He enters and flings himself down on a chair._) That Thomas is beyond everything--stoopid _hass_ as he is!

_Mrs. Pomfret_ (_concerned_). La, Mr. Tredwell, you _do_ seem put out! Whatever have Thomas been doing _now_?

_Undershell_ (_to himself_). It's really very good of him to take it to heart like this! (_Aloud._) Pray don't let it distress you; it's of no consequence, none at all!

_Tredwell_ (_glaring_). I'm the best judge of that, Mr. Undershell, sir--if you'll allow _me_; _I_ don't call my porogatives of no consequence, whatever _you_ may! And that feller Thomas, Mrs. Pomfret, actially 'ad the hordacity, without consulting me previous, to go and 'and a note to one of our gentlemen at the hupstairs table, all about some hassinine mistake he'd made with his cloes! What call had he to take it upon himself? I feel puffecly disgraced that such a thing should have occurred under my authority!

[_The_ Steward's Room Boy _has entered with a dish, and listens with secret anxiety on his own account_.

_Undershell._ I assure you there is no harm done. The gentleman is wearing my evening clothes--but he's going to return them----

[_The conclusion of the sentence is drowned in a roar of laughter from the majority._

_Tredwell_ (_gasping_). Hevenin' cloes! _Your_ hevenin'---- P'raps you'll 'ave the goodness to explain yourself, sir!

_Steptoe._ No, no, Tredwell, my dear fellah, you don't understand our friend here--he's a bit of a wag, don't you see? He's only trying to pull your leg, that's all; and, Gad, he did it too! But you mustn't take liberties with _this_ gentleman, Mr. Undershell; he's an important personage _here_, I can tell you!

_Undershell_ (_earnestly_). But I never meant--if you'll only let me explain----

[_The_ Boy _has come behind him, and administers a surreptitious kick, which_ UNDERSHELL _rightly construes as a hint to hold his tongue_.

_Tredwell_ (_in solemn offence_). I'm accustomed, Mr. Hundershell, to be treated in this room with respect and deference--especially by them as come here in the capacity of guests. _From_ such I regard any attempt to pull my leg as in hindifferent taste--to say the least of it. I wish to 'ave no more words on the subjick, which is a painful one, and had better be dropped, for the sake of all parties. Mrs. Pomfret, I see supper is on the table, so, by your leave, we had better set down to it.

_Phillipson_ (_to_ UNDERSHELL). Never mind _him_, pompous old thing! It _was_ awfully cheeky of you, though. You can sit next _me_ if you like.

_Undershell_ (_to himself, as he avails himself of this permission_). I shall only make things worse if I explain now. But, oh, great Heavens, _what_ a position for a poet!