CATHERINE (going white). Not--not--(She dare not say his name.) ERNEST (with singular modesty). You needn’t be alarmed; it’s only me. LADY MARY (relieved). Oh, you! AGATHA (happy again). Ernest, you dear, I got such a shock. CATHERINE. It was only Ernest. (Showing him her fish in thankfulness.) They are beautifully fresh; come and help me to cook them. ERNEST (with simple dignity). Do you mind if I don’t cook fish to-night? (She does not mind in the least. They have all forgotten him. A lark is singing in three hearts.) I think you might all be a little sorry for a chap. (But they are not even sorry, and he addresses AGATHA in these winged words:) I’m particularly disappointed in you, Aggy; seeing that I was half engaged to you, I think you might have had the good feeling to be a little more hurt. AGATHA. Oh, bother. ERNEST (summing up the situation in so far as it affects himself). I shall now go and lie down for a bit. (He retires coldly but unregretted. LADY MARY approaches TWEENY with her most insinuating smile.) LADY MARY. Tweeny, as the Gov. has chosen me to wait on him, please may I have the loan of it again? (The reference made with such charming delicacy is evidently to TWEENY’s skirt.) TWEENY (doggedly). No, you mayn’t. AGATHA (supporting TWEENY). Don’t you give it to her. LADY MARY (still trying sweet persuasion). You know quite well that he prefers to be waited on in a skirt. TWEENY. I don’t care. Get one for yourself. LADY MARY. It is the only one on the island. TWEENY. And it’s mine. LADY MARY (an aristocrat after all). Tweeny, give me that skirt directly. CATHERINE. Don’t. TWEENY. I won’t. LADY MARY (clearing for action). I shall make you. TWEENY. I should like to see you try. (An unseemly fracas appears to be inevitable, but something happens. The whir is again heard, and the notice is displayed ‘Dogs delight to bark and bite.’ Its effect is instantaneous and cheering. The ladies look at each other guiltily and immediately proceed on tiptoe to their duties. These are all concerned with the master’s dinner. CATHERINE attends to his fish. AGATHA fills a quaint toast-rack and brings the menu, which is written on a shell. LADY MARY twists a wreath of green leaves around her head, and places a flower beside the master’s plate. TWEENY signs that all is ready, and she and the younger sisters retire into the kitchen, drawing the screen that separates it from the rest of the room. LADY MARY beats a tom-tom, which is the dinner bell. She then gently works a punkah, which we have not hitherto observed, and stands at attention. No doubt she is in hopes that the Gov. will enter into conversation with her, but she is too good a parlour-maid to let her hopes appear in her face. We may watch her manner with complete approval. There is not one of us who would not give her £26 a year.