_Lady Culverin._ Delightful, my dear Gerald. Then we shall keep you here till Tuesday, of _course_!
_Undershell_ (_looking up from_ "Bradshaw," _impulsively_). Lady Culverin, I see there's a very good train which leaves Shuntingbridge at 3.15 this afternoon, and gets----
[_The rest regard him with unaffected surprise and disapproval._
_Lady Cantire_ (_raising her glasses_). Upon my word, Mr. Blair! If you will kindly leave Captain Thicknesse to make his own arrangements----!
_Lady Maisie_ (_interposing hastily_). But, mamma, you must have misunderstood Mr. Blair! As if he would _dream_ of---- He was merely mentioning the train he wishes to go by himself. _Weren't_ you, Mr. Blair?
_Undershell_ (_blinking and gasping_). I--eh? Just so, that--that _was_ my intention, certainly. (_To himself._) Does she at all realise what this will cost her?
_Lady Culverin._ My dear Mr. Blair, I--I'd no notion we were to lose you so soon; but if you're really quite _sure_ you must go----
_Lady Cantire_ (_sharply_). Really, Albinia, we must give him credit for knowing his own mind. He tells you he is _obliged to go_!
_Lady Culverin._ Then of course we must let you do _exactly_ as you please.
_Pilliner_ (_to himself_). Lady Maisie's a little brick! No notion she had it _in_ her. No occasion to bother myself about the beggar now. "Let him alone and he'll go home, and carry his tail beneath him!"
[_All except_ Miss SPELWANE _breathe more freely_; TREDWELL _appears_.
_Lady Culverin._ Oh, lunch, is it, Tredwell? Very well. By the bye, see that some one packs Mr. Undershell's things for him, and tell them to send the dog-cart round after lunch in time to catch the 3.15 from Shuntingbridge.
_Archie_ (_sotto voce, to_ PILLINER). We don't want any _more_ missin' of trains, eh? I'll go round and see the cart properly balanced myself _this_ time.
_Pilliner_ (_in the same tone_). No, dear boy, you're not to be trusted! _I'll_ see that done, then the bard and his train will be alike in one respect--_neither_ of 'em 'll be missed!
_Miss Spelwane_ (_to herself, piqued._) Going already! I wish I had never touched his ridiculous snowdrops!
_Lady Culverin._ Well, shall we go in to lunch, everybody?
[_They move in irregular order towards the dining-hall._