DR. FREEMANTLE. They can’t all have gone—the whole twenty-three of them, at a couple of hours’ notice. [_To Newte_] Haven’t seen any of them, have you? NEWTE. No sign of any of them downstairs. DR. FREEMANTLE. Oh, they must be still here. Not up, I suppose. It isn’t seven o’clock yet. THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But they have all been discharged. We can’t ask them to do anything. THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_to her sister_]. And the Grimstones are coming to lunch with the new curate. Vernon asked them on Sunday. THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. Perhaps there’s something cold. THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Vernon so dislikes a cold lunch. DR. FREEMANTLE [_to Newte_]. Were you able to get hold of Vernon last night? NEWTE. Waited up till he came in about two o’clock. Merely answered that he wasn’t in a talkative mood—brushed past me and locked himself in. DR. FREEMANTLE. He wouldn’t say anything to me either. Rather a bad sign when he won’t talk. NEWTE. What’s he likely to do? DR. FREEMANTLE. Don’t know. Of course it will be all over the county. THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. And dear Vernon is so sensitive. DR. FREEMANTLE. It had to come—the misfortune _is_— NEWTE. The misfortune _is_ that people won’t keep to their own line of business. Why did he want to come fooling around her? She was doing well for herself. She could have married a man who would have thought more of her than all the damn fools in the county put together. Why couldn’t he have left her alone? DR. FREEMANTLE [_he is sitting at the head of the table_, _between Newte on his right and the Misses Wetherell on his left_. _He lays his hand on Newte’s sleeve—with a smile_]. I’m sure you can forgive a man—with eyes and ears in his head—for having fallen in love with her. NEWTE. Then why doesn’t he stand by her? What if her uncle is a butler? If he wasn’t a fool, he’d be thanking his stars that ’twas anything half as respectable. DR. FREEMANTLE. I’m not defending him—we’re not sure yet that he needs any defence. He has married a clever, charming girl of—as you say—a better family than he’d any right to expect. The misfortune is, that—by a curious bit of ill-luck—it happens to be his own butler. NEWTE. If she takes my advice, she’ll return to the stage. No sense stopping where you’re not wanted. THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. But how can she? THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. You see, they’re married! DR. FREEMANTLE [_to change the subject_]. You’ll take an egg? _Newte has been boiling some_. _He has just served them_. THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL [_rejecting it_]. Thank you. THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. We’re not feeling hungry. THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. He was so fond of her. THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. She was so pretty. THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. And so thoughtful. THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. One would never have known she was an actress. THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. If only she hadn’t—