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 L26 a year.

The master comes in quietly, a book in his hand, still the only book
on the island, for he has not thought it worth while to build a
printing-press. His dress is not noticeably different from that of
the others, the skins are similar, but perhaps these are a trifle more
carefully cut or he carries them better. One sees somehow that he has