KEITH. Phew! Wouldn't be in his shoes, then! Sir William'll never
keep a servant who's made a scandal in the village, old girl. Bill
come?

As they disappear from the hall, JOHN LATTER in a clergyman's
evening dress, comes sedately downstairs, a tall, rather pale
young man, with something in him, as it were, both of heaven,
and a drawing-room. He passes FREDA with a formal little nod.
HAROLD, a fresh-cheeked, cheery-looking youth, comes down, three
steps at a time.

HAROLD. Hallo, Freda! Patience on the monument. Let's have a
sniff! For Miss Lanfarne? Bill come down yet?

FREDA. No, Mr. Harold.

HAROLD crosses the hall, whistling, and follows LATTER into the
drawing-room. There is the sound of a scuffle above, and a
voice crying: "Shut up, Dot!" And JOAN comes down screwing her
head back. She is pretty and small, with large clinging eyes.

JOAN. Am I all right behind, Freda? That beast, Dot!

FREDA. Quite, Miss Joan.

DOT's face, like a full moon, appears over the upper banisters.
She too comes running down, a frank figure, with the face of a
rebel.

DOT. You little being!