(He is about to go when LORD LOAM returns, fuming.)
LORD LOAM. The ingrate! The smug! The fop!
CATHERINE. What is it now, father?
LORD LOAM. That man of mine, Rolleston, refuses to accompany us
because you are to have but one maid.
AGATHA. Hurrah!
LADY MARY (in better taste). Darling father, rather than you should
lose Rolleston, we will consent to take all the three of them.
LORD LOAM. Pooh, nonsense! Crichton, find me a valet who can do
without three maids.
CRICHTON. Yes, my lord. (Troubled.) In the time--the more suitable
the party, my lord, the less willing will he be to come without the--
the usual perquisites.
LORD LOAM. Any one will do.
CRICHTON (shocked). My lord!
LORD LOAM. The ingrate! The puppy!
(AGATHA has an idea, and whispers to LADY MARY.)
LADY MARY. I ask a favour of a servant?--never!
AGATHA. Then I will. Crichton, would it not be very distressing to
you to let his lordship go, attended by a valet who might prove
unworthy? It is only for three months; don't you think that you--you
yourself--you--
(As CRICHTON sees what she wants he pulls himself up with noble,
offended dignity, and she is appalled.
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