me tell
her fairy stories when she was on'y a little kiddy not that 'igh
(indicating a stature of two feet or thereabouts).

MORELL (preoccupied). Ah, indeed. (He blots the telegram, and goes out.)

PROSERPINE. Used you to make the fairy stories up out of your own head?

(Burgess, not deigning to reply, strikes an attitude of the haughtiest
disdain on the hearth-rug.)

PROSERPINE (calmly). I should never have supposed you had it in you. By
the way, I'd better warn you, since you've taken such a fancy to Mr.
Marchbanks. He's mad.

BURGESS. Mad! Wot! 'Im too!!

PROSERPINE. Mad as a March hare. He did frighten me, I can tell you
just before you came in that time. Haven't you noticed the queer things
he says?

BURGESS. So that's wot the poetic 'orrors means. Blame me if it didn't
come into my head once or twyst that he must be off his chump! (He
crosses the room to the door, lifting up his voice as he goes.) Well,
this is a pretty sort of asylum for a man to be in, with no one but you
to take care of him!

PROSERPINE (as he passes her). Yes, what a dreadful thing it would be
if anything happened to YOU!

BURGESS (loftily). Don't you address no remarks to me. Tell your
hemployer that I've gone into the garden for a smoke.

PROSERPINE (mocking). Oh!

(Before Burgess can retort, Morell comes back.)

BURGESS (sentimentally). Goin' for a turn in the garden to smoke, James.

MORELL (brusquely). Oh, all right, all right. (Burgess goes out
pathetically in the character of the weary old man. Morell stands at
the table, turning over his papers, and adding, across to Proserpine,
half humorously, half absently) Well, Miss Prossy, why have you been
calling my father-in-law names?

PROSERPINE (blushing fiery red, and looking quickly up at him, half
scared, half reproachful). I-- (She bursts into tears.)

MORELL (with tender gaiety, leaning across the table towards her, and
consoling her). Oh, come, come, come! Never mind, Pross: he IS a silly
old fathead, isn't he?

(With an explosive sob, she makes a dash at the door, and vanishes,
banging it. Morell, shaking his head resignedly, sighs, and goes
wearily to his chair, where he sits down and sets to work, looking old
and careworn.)

(Candida comes in. She has finished her household work and taken of the
apron. She at once notices his dejected appearance, and posts herself
quietly at the spare chair, looking down at him attentively; but she
says nothing.)

MORELL