LADY OWBRIDGE.

It would be kind of you.

[FRAYNE _goes up the steps and away._ MRS. EDEN _comes to the stone
bench._ MURIEL _returns slowly, coming from among the trees and
appearing on the further side of the low hedge._

DUCHESS.

[_To_ LADY OWBRIDGE.] Pray don't be in the least concerned for me, dear
Lady Owbridge; the absence of my maid is quite a temporary matter. Poor
Watson's father is unwell and I packed her off to him this afternoon.
She will be back by mid-day to-morrow, she promises me.

LADY OWBRIDGE.

But, dear me! in the meantime my own woman shall wait upon you.

DUCHESS.

I couldn't dream of it.

MRS. EDEN.

Why not my Gilchrist--or let us share her?

DUCHESS.