_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._ SCENE XV.--_The Verney Chamber._ _Spurr. (to himself)._ My word, what a room! Carpet all over the walls, big fourposter, carved ceiling, great fireplace with blazing logs,--if this is how they do a _vet_ here, what price the _other_ fellows' rooms? And to think I shall have to do without dinner, just when I was getting on with 'em all so swimmingly! I _must_. I can't, for the credit of the profession--to say nothing of the firm--turn up in a monkey jacket and tweed bags, and that's all _I_'ve got except a nightgown!... It's all very well for Lady MAISIE to say "Take everything as it comes," but if she was in _my_ fix!... And it isn't as if I hadn't _got_ dress things either. If only I'd brought 'em down, I'd have marched in to dinner as cool as a----(_he lights a pair of candles._) Hullo! What's that on the bed? (_He approaches it._) Shirt! white tie! socks! coat, waistcoat, trousers--they _are_ dress clothes!... And here's a pair of brushes on the table! I'll swear they're not _mine_--there's a monogram on them--"U.G." What does it all mean? Why, of course! regular old trump, Sir RUPERT, and naturally he wants me to do him credit. He saw how it was, and he's gone and rigged me out! In a house like this, they're ready for emergencies--keep all sizes in stock, I daresay.... It isn't "U. G." on the brushes--it's "G. U."--"Guest's Use." Well, this is what I call doing the thing in style! _Cinderella_'s nothing to it! Only hope they're a decent fit. (_Later, as he dresses._) Come, the