_
MARTIN. Come, come, haven't you found it?
WILLIAM. No, Mr. Martin. It ain't here.
MARTIN. [_Bustling about._] Must be, must be. She says--
WILLIAM. I can't help what she says. It ain't.
MARTIN. [_Looking under the sofa._] Just you hustle, young man, and don't
give me any back-answers.
[_Having completed his examination of the sofa, he moves to the
sideboard, and fusses round that._
SMITHERS. [_Methodically shaking out each napkin._] I tell you she's
cross.
MARTIN. [_Hard at work, searching._] Doesn't mind disturbing _us,_ in the
midst of our supper!
WILLIAM. [_Who, all the time, has been on all fours searching._] We're
dirt, that's what we are--dirt.
MARTIN. [_Reprovingly._] William, I've told you before--
WILLIAM. Very sorry, Mr. Martin, but this is the first time I've accepted
an engagement at a stockbroker's. [_He has been crawling round the
curtains at the back, shaking them; pulling hard at one of them he
dislodges the lower part._] Lor! _Now_ I've done it!
SMITHERS. Clumsy!
MARTIN. [_Severely._] That comes of too much talk Never mind the
curtain--go on looking.
[WILLIAM _drops on to his hands and knees again;_ HARVEY WESTERN
_comes into the room, perturbed and restless. He is a
well-preserved man of fifty._
HARVEY. I say--not found it?
MARTIN. Not yet, sir.
HARVEY. Nuisance. _Must_ be here, you know.
MARTIN. Is it a very valuable one, sir?
HARVEY. [_Who has gone to the table, and is turning things over.
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