, grave_). Captain Hagberd, have you ever thought that
perhaps your son will not. . .

Capt. H. (_Paternally_). I've thought of everything, my dear--of
everything a reasonable young couple may need for housekeeping. Why,
I can hardly turn about in my room up there, the house is that full.
(_Rubs his hands with satisfaction_.) For my son Harry--when he comes
home. One day more.

Bessie (_Flattering_). Oh, you are a great one for bargains. (_Captain
Hagberd delighted_.) But, Captain Hagberd--if--if--you don't know what
may happen--if all that home you've got together were to be wasted--for
nothing--after all. (_Aside_.) Oh, I can't bring it out.

Capt. H. (_Agitated; flings arms up, stamps feet; stuttering_). What?
What d'ye mean? What's going to happen to the things?

Bessie (_Soothing_). Nothing! Nothing! Dust--or moth--you know. Damp,
perhaps. You never let anyone into the house . . .

Capt. H. Dust! Damp! (_Has a throaty, gurgling laugh_.) I light the
fires and dust the things myself. (_Indignant_.) Let anyone into the
house, indeed! What would Harry say! (_Walks up and down his garden
hastily with tosses, jings, and jerks of his whole body_.)

Bessie (_With authority_.) Now, then, Captain Hagberd! You know I won't
put up with your tantrums. (_Shakes finger at him_.)

Capt. H. (_Subdued, but still sulky, with his back to her_). You want
to see the things. That's what you're after. Well, no, not even you. Not
till Harry has had his first look.

Bessie. Oh, no! I don't. (_Relenting_.) Not till you're willing.
(_Smiles at Capt. H., who has turned half round already!_) You mustn't
excite yourself. (_Knits_.)

Capt. H. (_Condescending_). And you the only sensible girl for miles and
miles around. Can't you trust me? I am a domestic man. Always was, my
dear. I hated the sea. People don't know what they let their boys into
when they send them to sea. As soon make convicts of them at once. What
sort of life is it? Most of your time you don't know what's going on at
home. (_Insinuating_.) There's nothing anywhere on earth as good as a
home, my dear. (_Pause_.) With a good husband...

Carvil (_Heard from his seat fragmentarily_). There they go... jabber,
jabber... mumble, mumble. (_With a groaning effort?_) Helpless!

Capt. H. (_Mutters_). Extravagant ham and eggs fellow. (_Louder_.) Of
course it isn't as if he had a son to make a home ready for. Girls are
different, my dear. They don't run away, my dear, my dear. (_