LADY MARY (determined to have it out with him). You are not implying anything so unnatural, I presume, as that if I and my sisters don’t work there will be no dinner for us? CRICHTON (brightly). If it is unnatural, my lady, that is the end of it. LADY MARY. If? Now I understand. The perfect servant at home holds that we are all equal now. I see. CRICHTON (wounded to the quick). My lady, can you think me so inconsistent? LADY MARY. That is it. CRICHTON (earnestly). My lady, I disbelieved in equality at home because it was against nature, and for that same reason I as utterly disbelieve in it on an island. LADY MARY (relieved by his obvious sincerity). I apologise. CRICHTON (continuing unfortunately). There must always, my lady, be one to command and others to obey. LADY MARY (satisfied). One to command, others to obey. Yes. (Then suddenly she realises that there may be a dire meaning in his confident words.) Crichton! CRICHTON (who has intended no dire meaning). What is it, my lady? (But she only stares into his face and then hurries from him. Left alone he is puzzled, but being a practical man he busies himself gathering firewood, until TWEENY appears excitedly carrying cocoa-nuts in her skirt. She has made better use than the ladies of her three minutes’ grace for dressing.) TWEENY (who can be happy even on an island if CRICHTON is with her). Look what I found. CRICHTON. Cocoa-nuts. Bravo! TWEENY. They grows on trees. CRICHTON. Where did you think they grew? TWEENY. I thought as how they grew in rows on top of little sticks. CRICHTON (wrinkling his brows). Oh Tweeny, Tweeny! TWEENY (anxiously). Have I offended of your feelings again, sir? CRICHTON. A little. TWEENY (in a despairing outburst). I’m full o’ vulgar words and ways; and though I may keep them in their holes when you are by, as soon as I’m by myself out they comes in a rush like beetles when the house is dark. I says them gloating-like, in my head--‘Blooming’ I says, and ‘All my eye,’ and ‘Ginger,’ and ‘Nothink’; and all the time we was being wrecked I was praying to myself, ‘Please the Lord it may be an island as it’s natural to be vulgar on.’ (A shudder passes through CRICHTON, and she is abject.) That’s the kind I am, sir. I’m ‘opeless. You’d better give me up. (She is a pathetic, forlorn creature, and his manhood is stirred.) CRICHTON (wondering a little at himself for saying it). I won’t give you up. It is strange that one so common should attract one so fastidious; but so it is. (Thoughtfully.) There is something about you, Tweeny, there is a je ne sais quoi about you. TWEENY (knowing only that he has found something in her to commend). Is there, is there? Oh, I am glad.