when she understands,
rushing to_ Hildegarde _and embracing her_). Oh! My wonderful girl!

JOHN (_feebly and still humiliated_). Stay me with flagons!

HILDEGARDE (_to her mother_). How nice you are about it, mamma!

MRS. CULVER. But I'm very proud, my pet. Of course I think you might
have let me into the secret--

CULVER. None of us were let into the secret,
Hermione--I mean until comparatively recent times. It was a matter
between Hilda's conscience and her editor.

MRS. CULVER. Oh! I'm not complaining. I'm so relieved she didn't write
those dreadful cookery articles.

HILDEGARDE. But do you mean to say you aren't frightfully shocked by my
advanced politics, mamma?

MRS. CULVER. My child, how naive you are, after all! A woman is never
shocked, though of course at times it may suit her to pretend to be.
Only men are capable of being shocked. As for your advanced politics, as
you call them, can't you see that it doesn't matter what you write so
long as you are admired by the best people. It isn't views that are
disreputable, it's the persons that hold them.

CULVER. I hope that's why you so gracefully gave way over the baronetcy,
my dear.

MRS. CULVER (_continuing to_ Hildegarde). There's just one thing I
should venture to suggest, and that is, that you cease at once to be a
typist and employ one yourself instead. It's most essential that you
should live up to your position. Oh! I'm very proud of you.

HILDEGARDE. I don't quite know what my position is. According to the
latest news I'm dead. (_Challengingly to_ Tranto.) Mr. Tranto, you're
keeping rather quiet, nearly as quiet as John (John _changes his seat_),
but don't you think you owe me some explanation? Not more than a quarter
of an hour ago in this very room it was distinctly agreed between us
that you would not kill Sampson Straight, and now you rush back in a
sort of homicidal mania.

MRS. CULVER. Oh! I'd no idea Mr. Tranto had called already this morning!

HILDEGARDE. Yes. I told him all about everything, and we came to a
definite understanding.

MRS. CULVER. Oh!

TRANTO. I'm only too anxious to explain. I killed Sampson for the most
urgent of all possible reasons. The Government is thinking of giving him
a baronetcy?

CULVER. Not _my_ baronetcy?

TRANTO. Precisely.

MRS. CULVER. But this is the most terrible thing I ever heard of.

TRANTO. It is. I met one of my chaps in the street. He was coming here
to see me. (_To_ Culver.) Your answ