MISS S. But where is Anne?

PRESS. Miss Stokes, as a lady----!

MISS S. I shall go and fetch Lord William!

POULDER. We will all go, Miss.

L. ANNE. [Rushing out from behind his legs] No--me!

[She eludes MISS STOKES and vanishes, followed by that
distracted but still well-mannered lady.]

POULDER. [Looking at his watch] 'Enry, leave the cooler, and take
up the wine; tell Thomas to lay it out; get the champagne into ice,
and 'ave Charles 'andy in the 'all in case some literary bounder
comes punctual.

[HENRY takes up the wine and goes.]

PRESS. [Above his head] I say, let me down. This is a bit
undignified, you know. My paper's a great organ.

POULDER. [After a moment's hesitation] Well--take 'im down, James;
he'll do some mischief among the bottles.

JAMES. 'Op off your base, and trust to me.

[THE, PRESS slides off the bin's edge, is received by JAMES, and
not landed gently.]