HILDEGARDE.  Called!  Before lunch!  Who was it?

CULVER.  Haven’t the faintest.

Enter John, back.

JOHN (proudly).  I say, good people!  New acquaintance of mine!  Just looked in.  Met him at the Automobile this morning with Skewes.  I was sure you’d all give your heads to see the old chap, so I asked him to lunch on the chance.  Dashed if he didn’t accept!  You see we’d been talking a bit about politics.  He’s the most celebrated man in London.  I doubt if there’s a fellow I admire more in the whole world—­or you either.  He’s knocked the mater flat already.  Between ourselves, I really asked him because I thought he might influence her on this baronetcy business.  However, that’s all off now.  What are you staring at?

CULVER.  We’re only bursting with curiosity to hear the name of this paragon of yours.  As a general rule I like to know beforehand whom I’m going to lunch with in my own house.

JOHN.  It’s Sampson Straight.

HILDEGARDE (springing up). Sampson Str—­

CULVER (calmly).  Keep your nerve, Hilda.  Keep your nerve.

JOHN.  I thought I wouldn’t say anything till he’d actually arrived.  He mightn’t have come at all.  Then what a fool I should have looked if I’d told you he was coming!  Tranto himself doesn’t know him.  Tranto pooh-poohed the idea of me ever meeting him, Tranto did.  Well, I’ve met him, and he’s here.  I haven’t let on to him that I know Tranto.  I’m going to bring them together and watch them both having the surprise of their lives.

CULVER.  John, this is a great score for you.  I admit I’ve never been more interested in meeting anyone.  Never!

Enter Parlourmaid, back.

PARLOURMAID.  Miss Starkey, sir.

CULVER (cheerfully).  I’ll see her soon. (Pulling himself up suddenly; in an alarmed, gloomy tone.) No, no!  I can’t possibly see her.

PARLOURMAID.  Miss Starkey says there are several important letters, sir.

CULVER.  No, no!  I’m not equal to it.

HILDEGARDE (confidentially).  What’s wrong, dad?

CULVER (to Hildegarde).  She’ll give me notice the minute she knows she can’t call me Sir Arthur. (Shudders.) I quail.

Enter Mrs. Culver and Sampson Straight, back.

(The Parlourmaid holds the door for them, and then exit.)

MRS. CULVER.  This is my husband.  Arthur, dear—­Mr. Sampson Straight.  And this is my little daughter. (Hilda bows, John surveys the scene with satisfaction.)

CULVER (recovering his equipoise; shaking hands heartily).  Mr. Straight.  Delighted to meet you.  I simply cannot tell you how unexpected this pleasure is.

STRAIGHT.  You’re too kind.

CULVER (gaily).  I doubt it.  I doubt it.

STRAIGHT.  I ought to apologise for coming in like this.  But I’ve been so charmingly received by Mrs. Culver—­