that wicked motor of mine.

PIKE [chuckling]. Lord bless your soul, I've put a self-binder together
after a pony-engine had butted it half-way through a brick deepoe!

[Tucks his napkin in collar of his waistcoat and applies himself to the
meal.]

[HORACE and HAWCASTLE read their papers, now and then casting glances of
great annoyance at PIKE.]

[LADY CREECH lets her periodical rest in her lap, and without any
abating or concealment, fixes PIKE with a basilisk glare which
continues. He is unconscious of all this, his back being three-quarters
to their group.]

VASILI [no pause]. You have studied mechanics at the University?

PIKE [smiling]. University? Law, no! On the old man's farm.

[VASILI nods gravely.]

HAWCASTLE [blandly, to HORACE]. Without any disrespect to you, my dear
fellow, what terrific bounders most of your fellow-countrymen are!

HORACE [greatly irritated]. Do you wonder sis and I have emancipated
ourselves?

HAWCASTLE. Not at all, my dear lad.