LADY MARY (a little desperate). Crichton, what’s to be done? We sail in two days; could one be discovered in the time? AGATHA (frankly a supplicant). Surely you can think of some one? CRICHTON (after hesitating). There is in this establishment, your ladyship, a young woman-- LADY MARY. Yes? CRICHTON. A young woman, on whom I have for some time cast an eye. CATHERINE (eagerly). Do you mean as a possible lady’s-maid? CRICHTON. I had thought of her, my lady, in another connection. LADY MARY. Ah! CRICHTON. But I believe she is quite the young person you require. Perhaps if you could see her, my lady-- LADY MARY. I shall certainly see her. Bring her to me. (He goes.) You two needn’t wait. CATHERINE. Needn’t we? We see your little game, Mary. AGATHA. We shall certainly remain and have our two-thirds of her. (They sit there doggedly until CRICHTON returns with TWEENY, who looks scared.) CRICHTON. This, my lady, is the young person. CATHERINE (frankly). Oh dear! (It is evident that all three consider her quite unsuitable.) LADY MARY. Come here, girl. Don’t be afraid. (TWEENY looks imploringly at her idol.) CRICHTON. Her appearance, my lady, is homely, and her manners, as you may have observed, deplorable, but she has a heart of gold. LADY MARY. What is your position downstairs? TWEENY (bobbing). I’m a tweeny, your ladyship. CATHERINE. A what? CRICHTON. A tweeny; that is to say, my lady, she is not at present, strictly speaking, anything; a between maid; she helps the vegetable maid. It is she, my lady, who conveys the dishes from the one end of the kitchen table, where they are placed by the cook, to the other end, where they enter into the charge of Thomas and John. LADY MARY. I see. And you and Crichton are--ah--keeping company? (CRICHTON draws himself up.) TWEENY (aghast). A butler don’t keep company, my lady. LADY MARY (indifferently). Does he not? CRICHTON. No, your ladyship, we butlers may--(he makes a gesture with his arms)--but we do not keep company. AGATHA. I know what it is; you are engaged? (TWEENY looks longingly at CRICHTON.) CRICHTON. Certainly not, my lady. The utmost I can say at present is that I have cast a favourable eye. (Even this is much to TWEENY.) LADY MARY. As you choose. But I am afraid, Crichton, she will not suit us. CRICHTON. My lady, beneath this simple exterior are concealed a very sweet nature and rare womanly gifts. AGATHA. Unfortunately, that is not what we want. CRICHTON. And it is she, my lady, who dresses the hair of the ladies’-maids for our evening meals. (The ladies are interested at last.) LADY MARY. She dresses Fisher’s hair? TWEENY. Yes, my lady, and I does them up when they goes to parties. CRICHTON (pained, but not scolding). Does! TWEENY. Doos. And it’s me what alters your gowns to fit them. CRICHTON. What alters! TWEENY. Which alters. AGATHA. Mary? LADY MARY. I shall certainly have her.