(She comes, wrapping her hands miserably in her apron.)

LORD LOAM (doggedly). Give me your hand, Jane.

CRICHTON. Gladys.

ERNEST. How do you do, Gladys. You know my uncle?

LORD LOAM. Your hand, Gladys.

(He bestows her on AGATHA.)

CRICHTON. Tweeny.

(She is a very humble and frightened kitchenmaid, of whom we are to
see more.)

LORD LOAM. So happy to see you.

FISHER. John, I saw you talking to Lord Brocklehurst just now;
introduce me.

LORD BROCKLEHURST (at the same moment to ERNEST). That's an uncommon
pretty girl; if I must feed one of them, Ernest, that's the one.

(But ERNEST tries to part him and FISHER as they are about to shake
hands.)

ERNEST. No you don't, it won't do, Brocky. (To Miss FISHER.) You are
too pretty, my dear. Mother wouldn't like it. (Discovering TWEENY.)