_Miss Spelwane._ At last, Mr. Spurrell! We began to think you meant to keep away altogether. Has anybody told you _why_ you've been waited for so impatiently? _Spurrell_ (_looking round the circle of chairs apprehensively_). No. Is it family prayers, or what? Er--are they over? _Miss Spelwane._ No, no; nothing of that sort. Can't you _guess_? Mr. Spurrell, I'm going to be very bold, and ask a great, _great_ favour of you. I don't know why they chose _me_ to represent them; I told Lady Lullington I was afraid my entreaties would have no weight; but if you only would---- _Spurrell_ (_to himself_). They're at it again! How many _more_ of 'em want a pup! (_Aloud._) Sorry to be disobliging, but---- _Miss Spelwane_ (_joining her hands in supplication_). Not if I _implore_ you? Oh, Mr. Spurrell, I've quite set my heart on hearing you read aloud to us. Are you really cruel enough to refuse? _Spurrell._ Read aloud! Is _that_ what you want me to do? But I'm no particular hand at it. I don't know that I've ever read aloud--except a bit out of the paper now and then--since I was a boy at school! _Lady Cantire._ _What's_ that I hear? Mr. Spurrell professing incapacity to read aloud? Sheer affectation! Come, Mr. Spurrell, I am much mistaken if you are wanting in the power to thrill all hearts here. Think of us as instruments ready to respond to your touch. Play upon us as you will; but don't be so ungracious as to raise any further obstacles. _Spurrell_ (_resignedly_). Oh, very well, if I'm required to read, _I'm_ agreeable. [_Murmurs of satisfaction._ _Lady Cantire._ Hush, please, everybody! Mr. Spurrell is going to read. My dear Bishop, if you _wouldn't_ mind just---- Lord Lullington, can you hear where you are? Where are you going to sit, Mr. Spurrell? In the centre will be best. Will somebody move that lamp a little, so as to give him more light? _Spurrell_ (_to himself, as he sits down_). I wonder what we're supposed to be playing at! (_Aloud._) Well, what am I to read, eh? _Miss Spelwane_ (_placing an open copy of_ "Andromeda" _in his hands with a charming air of deferential dictation_). You might begin with _this_--such a _dear_ little piece! I'm dying to hear _you_ read it! [Illustration: "YOU MIGHT BEGIN WITH THIS--SUCH A DEAR LITTLE PIECE."] _Spurrell_ (_as he takes the book_). I'll do the best I can! (_He looks at the page in dismay._) Why, look here, it's _poetry_! I didn't bargain for that. Poetry's altogether out of my line! [Miss SPELWANE _opens her eyes to their fullest extent, and retires a few paces from him; he begins to read in a perfunctory monotone, with deepening bewilderment and disgust_-- "THE SICK KNIGHT.