IV

When Mr. Prohack touched the handle of the door of the box, he felt as
though he were returning to civilisation; he felt less desolated by the
immediate past and by the prospect of the immediate future; he was
yearning for the society of mere women after his commerce with a star at
three hundred and fifty pounds a week. True, he badly wanted to examine
his soul and enquire into his philosophy of life, but he was prepared to
postpone that inquest until the society of mere women had had a
beneficial effect on him.

Charlie, who had been paying a state visit to his mother and sister was
just leaving the box and the curtain was just going up.

"Hullo, dad!" said the youth, "you're the very man I was looking for,"
and he drew his father out into the corridor. "You've got two of the
finest ballroom dancers I ever saw," he added to Ozzie.

"Haven't we!" Ozzie concurred, with faint enthusiasm.

"But the rest of the show ..." Charlie went on, ruthless. "Well, if
Chown's shows were only equal to his showmanship...! Only they aren't!"

Ozzie raised his eyebrows--a skilful gesture that at once defended his
employer and agreed with Charles.

"By the way, dad, I've got a house for you. I've told the mater about it
and she's going to see it to-morrow morning."

"A house!" Mr. Prohack exclaimed weakly, foreseeing new vistas of worry.
"I've got one. I can't live in two."

"But this one's a _house_. You know about it, don't you, Morfey?"

Ozzie gave a nod and a vague smile.

"See here, dad! Come out here a minute."

Ozzie discreetly entered the box and closed the door.

"What is it?" asked Mr. Prohack.

"It's this," Charlie replied, handing his parent a cheque. "I've
deducted what I paid for you to-night from what you lent me not long
since. I've calculated interest on the loan at ten per cent. You can get
ten practically anywhere in these days, worse luck."

"But I don't want this, my boy," Mr. Prohack protested, holding the
cheque as he might have held a lady's handkerchief retrieved from the
ground.

"Well, I'm quite sure I don't," said Charlie, a little stiffly.

There was a pause.

"As you please," said Mr. Prohack, putting the cheque--interest and
all--into his pocket.

"Thanks," said Charlie. "Much obliged. You're a noble father, and I
shouldn't be a bit surprised if you've laid the foundation of my
fortunes. But of course you never know--in my business."

"What _is_ your business?" Mr. Prohack a