A short life and a merry one_.

MRS. CULVER. You don't mean it!

JOHN. I absolutely do.

MRS. CULVER (_after a pause_). John, you're trying to bully your mother.

JOHN. Not in the least, mater. I'm merely telling you what will happen
if father accepts that piffling baronetcy.

MRS. CULVER (_checking a tear; very sweetly_). Well, my pets, you make
life just a little difficult for me. I live only for you and your
father. I think first of your father, and then of you two. For myself, I
am perfectly indifferent. I consider all politics extremely silly. There
never were any in my family, nor in your father's. And to me it's most
extraordinary that your father should catch them so late in life. I
always supposed that after thirty people were immune. (_To_ John.) You,
I suppose, were bound to have them sooner or later, but that _Hilda_
should go out of her way to contract them--well, it passes me. It passes
me. However, I've no more to say. Your father had made up his mind to
accept the title. You want him to refuse it. I hate to influence him
(Hildegarde _again hides a cynical smile_) but for your sakes I'll try
to persuade him to alter his decision and refuse it.

JOHN (_taking her arm_). Come along then--now! I'll go with you to see
fair play. (_He opens the door, L, and_ Mrs. Culver _passes out. Then
stopping in the doorway, to_ Hildegarde) Who did the trick? I say--who
did the trick?

HILDEGARDE (_nicely_). Pooh! You may be a prefect at school. But here
you're only mamma's wee lamb! (_She drops on to the sofa_.)

JOHN (_singing triumphantly_). Stay--me--with fla--gons! (_Exit_ John,
_L_.)

_Enter_ Tranto, _back, shown in by the_ Parlourmaid.

TRANTO. How d'ye do, Miss Hilda. I'm in a high state of nerves.

HILDEGARDE (_shaking hands weakly_). We all are.

TRANTO (_ignoring what she says_). I've come specially to see you.

HILDEGARDE. But how did you know I should be here--at this time? I'm
supposed to be at the Food Ministry till one o'clock?

TRANTO. I called for you at the Ministry.

HILDEGARDE (_leaning forward_). That's quite against the rules. The
rules are made for the moral protection of the women-clerks.

TRANTO. They told me you'd left early.

HILDEGARDE. Why did you call?

TRANTO. Shall I be frank?

HILDEGARDE. Are you ever?

TRANTO. I wanted to walk home with you.

HILDEGARDE. Are you getting frightened about that next article of mine?

TRANTO. No. I've lost all interest in articles.