SCENE XIV.--_An Upper Corridor in the East Wing.

_Steward's Room Boy_ (_to_ UNDERSHELL). This is your room, Sir--you'll find a fire lit and all.

_Undershell (scathingly)._ A fire? For me! I scarcely expected such an indulgence. You are _sure_ there's no mistake?

_Boy._ This is the room I was told, Sir. You'll find candles on the mantelpiece, and matches.

_Und._ Every luxury indeed! I am pampered--_pampered_!

_Boy._ Yes, Sir. And I was to say as supper's at ar-past nine, but Mrs. POMFRET would be 'appy to see you in the Pugs' Parlour whenever you pleased to come down and set there.

_Und._ The Pugs' Parlour?

_Boy._ What we call the 'Ousekeeper's Room, among ourselves, Sir.

_Und._ Mrs. POMFRET does me too much honour. And shall I have the satisfaction of seeing your intelligent countenance at the festive board, my lad?

_Boy (giggling)._ Lor, Sir, I don't set down to meals along with the _upper_ servants, Sir!

_Und._ And I--a mere man of genius--_do_! These distinctions must strike you as most arbitrary; but restrain any natural envy, my young friend. I assure you I am not puffed up by this promotion!

_Boy._ No, sir. (_To himself, as he goes out._) I believe he's a bit dotty, I do. I don't understand a word he's been talking of!

_Und. (alone, surveying the surroundings)._ A cockloft, with a painted iron bedstead, a smoky chimney, no bell, and a text over the mantelpiece! Thank Heaven, that fellow DRYSDALE can't see me here! But I will not sleep in this place, my pride will only just bear the strain of staying to supper--no more. And I'm hanged if I go down to the Housekeeper's Room till hunger drives me. It's not eight yet--how shall I pass the time? Ha, I see they've favoured me with pen and ink. I will invoke the Muse. Indignation should make verses, as it did for JUVENAL; and _he_ was never set down to sup with slaves!

[_He writes._