MRS. CULVER.  Your father won’t allow you to join the Flying Corps.

JOHN.  My father can’t stop me.  I know the mess is expensive, but the pay’s good, and I’ve got L150 of my own.  Not a fortune!  Not a fortune!  But enough, quite enough. A short life and a merry one.  I went to see Captain Skewes at the Automobile this morning.  One of our old boys.  He’s delighted.  He gave me Lanchester’s ‘Aircraft in Warfare’ to read.  Here it is. (Picking up the book.) Here it is!  I shall be sitting up all night to-night reading it. 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.