LORD LOAM (shaking hands with his valet). How do you do, Rolleston? (CATHERINE looks after the wants of ROLLESTON.) CRICHTON. Mr. Tompsett. (TOMPSETT, the coachman, is received with honours, from which he shrinks.) CRICHTON. Miss Fisher. (This superb creature is no less than LADY MARY’S maid, and even LORD LOAM is a little nervous.) LORD LOAM. This is a pleasure, Miss Fisher. ERNEST (unabashed). If I might venture, Miss Fisher (and he takes her unto himself). CRICHTON. Miss Simmons. LORD LOAM (to CATHERINE’S maid). You are always welcome, Miss Simmons. ERNEST (perhaps to kindle jealousy in Miss FISHER). At last we meet. Won’t you sit down? CRICHTON. Mademoiselle Jeanne. LORD LOAM. Charmed to see you, Mademoiselle Jeanne. (A place is found for AGATHA’S maid, and the scene is now an animated one; but still our host thinks his girls are not sufficiently sociable. He frowns on LADY MARY.) LADY MARY (in alarm). Mr. Treherne, this is Fisher, my maid. LORD LOAM (sharply). Your what, Mary? LADY MARY. My friend. CRICHTON. Thomas. LORD LOAM. How do you do, Thomas? (The first footman gives him a reluctant hand.) CRICHTON. John. LORD LOAM. How do you do, John? (ERNEST signs to LORD BROCKLEHURST, who hastens to him.) ERNEST (introducing). Brocklehurst, this is John. I think you have already met on the door-step. CRICHTON. Jane. (She comes, wrapping her hands miserably in her apron.) LORD LOAM (doggedly). Give me your hand, Jane. CRICHTON. Gladys. ERNEST. How do you do, Gladys. You know my uncle? LORD LOAM. Your hand, Gladys. (He bestows her on AGATHA.) CRICHTON. Tweeny. (She is a very humble and frightened kitchenmaid, of whom we are to see more.) LORD LOAM. So happy to see you. FISHER. John, I saw you talking to Lord Brocklehurst just now; introduce me. LORD BROCKLEHURST (at the same moment to ERNEST). That’s an uncommon pretty girl; if I must feed one of them, Ernest, that’s the one. (But ERNEST tries to part him and FISHER as they are about to shake hands.) ERNEST. No you don’t, it won’t do, Brocky. (To Miss FISHER.) You are too pretty, my dear. Mother wouldn’t like it. (Discovering TWEENY.) Here’s something safer. Charming girl, Brocky, dying to know you; let me introduce you. Tweeny, Lord Brocklehurst--Lord Brocklehurst, Tweeny. (BROCKLEHURST accepts his fate; but he still has an eye for FISHER, and something may come of this.) LORD LOAM (severely). They are not all here, Crichton. CRICHTON (with a sigh). Odds and ends. (A STABLE-BOY and a PAGE are shown in, and for a moment no daughter of the house advances to them.) LORD LOAM (with a roving eye on his children). Which is to recite? (The last of the company are, so to say, embraced.) LORD LOAM (to TOMPSETT, as they partake of tea together). And how are all at home? TOMPSETT. Fairish, my lord, if ‘tis the horses you are inquiring for? LORD LOAM. No, no, the family. How’s the baby? TOMPSETT. Blooming, your lordship.