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.
LORD LOAM. A very fine boy. I remember saying so when I saw him; nice little fellow.
TOMPSETT (not quite knowing whether to let it pass). Beg pardon, my lord, it's a girl.
LORD LOAM. A girl? Aha! ha! ha! exactly what I said. I distinctly remember saying, If it's spared it will be a girl.
(CRICHTON now comes down.)
LORD LOAM. Very delighted to see you, Crichton.
(CRICHTON has to shake hands.)
Mary, you know Mr. Crichton?
(He wanders off in search of other prey.)
LADY MARY. Milk and sugar, Crichton?
CRICHTON. I'm ashamed to be seen talking to you, my lady.
LADY MARY. To such a perfect servant as you all this must be most distasteful. (CRICHTON is too respectful to answer.) Oh, please do speak, or I shall have to recite. You do hate it, don't you?
CRICHTON. It pains me, your ladyship. It disturbs the etiquette of the servants' hall. After last month's meeting the pageboy, in a burst of equality, called me Crichton. He was dismissed.
LADY MARY. I wonder--I really do--how you can remain with us.
CRICHTON. I should have felt compelled to give notice, my lady, if the master had not had a seat in the Upper House. I cling to that.
LADY MARY. Do go on speaking. Tell me, what did Mr. Ernest mean by saying he was not young enough to know everything?
CRICHTON. I have no idea, my lady.
LADY MARY. But you laughed.
CRICHTON. My lady, he is the second son of a peer.
LADY MARY. Very proper sentiments. You are a good soul, Crichton.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (desperately to TWEENY). And now tell me, have you been to the Opera? What sort of weather have you been having in the kitchen? (TWEENY gurgles.) For Heaven's sake, woman, be articulate.
CRICHTON (still talking to LADY MARY). No, my lady; his lordship may compel us to be equal upstairs, but there will never be equality in the servants' hall.
LORD LOAM (overhearing this). What's that? No equality? Can't you see, Crichton, that our divisions into classes are artificial, that if we were to return to nature, which is the aspiration of my life, all would be equal?
CRICHTON. If I may make so bold as to contradict your lordship--
LORD LOAM (with an effort). Go on.
CRICHTON. The divisions into classes, my lord, are not artificial. They are the natural outcome of a civilised society. (To LADY MARY.) There must always be a master and servants in all civilised communities, my lady, for it is natural, and whatever is natural is right.
LORD LOAM (wincing). It is very unnatural for me to stand here and allow you to talk such nonsense.
CRICHTON (eagerly). Yes, my lord, it is. That is what I have been striving to point out to your lordship.
AGATHA (to CATHERINE). What is the matter with Fisher? She is looking daggers.
CATHERINE. The tedious creature; some question of etiquette, I suppose.
(She sails across to FISHER.)
How are you, Fisher?
FISHER (with a toss of her head). I am nothing, my lady, I am nothing at all.
AGATHA. Oh dear, who says so?
FISHER (affronted). His lordship has asked that kitchen wench to have a second cup of tea.
CATHERINE. But why not?
FISHER. If it pleases his lordship to offer it to her before offering it to me--
AGATHA. So that is it. Do you want another cup of tea, Fisher?
FISHER. No, my lady--but my position--I should have been asked first.
AGATHA. Oh dear.
(All this has taken some time, and by now the feeble appetites of the uncomfortable guests have been satiated. But they know there is still another ordeal to face--his lordship's monthly speech. Every one awaits it with misgiving--the servants lest they should applaud, as last time, in the wrong place, and the daughters because he may be personal about them, as the time before. ERNEST is annoyed that there should be this speech at all when there is such a much better one coming, and BROCKLEHURST foresees the degradation of the peerage.