He
listens--no one seems to be stirring. He goes out, returns
immediately with a butler's tray, containing all things necessary for
a breakfast and the lighting of a fire. He places the tray on table,
throws his coat over a chair, and is on his knees busy lighting the
fire, when enter the Misses Wetherell, clad in dressing-gowns and
caps: yet still they continue to look sweet. They also creep in,
hand in hand. The crouching Newte is hidden by a hanging fire-
screen. They creep forward till the coat hanging over the chair
catches their eye. They are staring at it as Robinson Crusoe might
at the footprint, when Newte rises suddenly and turns. The Misses
Wetherell give a suppressed scream, and are preparing for flight.
NEWTE [he stays them]. No call to run away, ladies. When a man's
travelled--as I have--across America, in a sleeping-car, with a
comic-opera troop, there's not much left for him to know. You want
your breakfast! [He wheedles them to the table.] We'll be able to
talk cosily--before anybody else comes.
They yield themselves. He has a way with him.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We haven't slept all night.
Newte answers with a sympathetic gesture. He is busy getting ready
the breakfast.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. There's something we want to tell dear
Vernon--before he says anything to Fanny.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It's something very important.
NEWTE. We'll have a cup of tea first--to steady our nerves.
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