Will. Melodrama!  Ten-twenty-thirty!  I don’t like Gladys as a character any more than I did as a person.  She’s shallow and cheap—­a regular worldling!  I won’t have any such creature in my play!

Peggy. There’s no use talking that way, Will, you simply can’t write a money-making play without love-interest.  And also you’ve got to have comedy characters—­real characters—­

Will (eagerly). I’ll have one character, at least!  In the next scene, when the father comes in!  It’ll be a jolly lark, Peggy—­I’m going to use Dad!

Peggy. Your own father!

Will. Yes, why not?

Peggy. He might hear of it, Will!

Will. He despises the theatre.  Half his anger at me was because I married an actress.  And it seems to me, if we can’t get any money out of him, we might at least get a character-study.

Peggy. All right, Dad let it be!

Will. I’ll show you how it is.  Here! (Pushes the manuscripts towards her; the Play-play begins to appear.) Jack has gone upstairs to change his clothes, and here comes Dad.  He’s an old man—­rich, irascible, given to scolding.  I remember how he used to snort when anything didn’t please him.

Dad. Huh! huh-huh!

Will. He’s heard the story about Jack.  Here’s the Mss.  Read. (She takes the manuscript and begins to read.  Full light on Play-play.  Will exit secretly.)

Dad (to Bob). What do you think of this?

Bob. What?

Dad. My precious son in trouble again!  Never any end to it!  Recklessness—­dissipation—­insolence!  I’ve reached the end of my patience.  Absolutely the end!

Bob. What’s happened?

Dad (waves letter in his hand). Here’s a letter from the dean.  He’s got himself suspended from college.

Jessie (horrified). Oh, Dad!

Bob. What’s he done?

Dad. Turning loose a live goat in a college lecture hall!

Bob. You can’t mean it!

Dad. Here’s the letter!  They were having a fraternity initiation, it seems, and Jack was bringing the goat, his horns painted with phosphorus, a bunch of fire-crackers tied to his tail.  Fire-crackers to the tail of a goat!

Jessie. But Dad!  How do you know that Jack—­

Dad. He admitted everything in his letter to the dean!  He was passing a hall where they were giving an evening lecture.  He had a grudge against the professor.  He turned out the lights, and turned loose the goat!  What do you think of that? (A silence.) What do you think of it?

Jessie. Why Dad, I think it’s funny.

Dad. Funny!  You propose to take his side, do you?  And now he’s out of college and has nothing to do but loaf around the house!  I tell you I’ve reached the limit of my patience.  It’s just as Bob says—­he’s a parasite.  Nothing to do but squander my money—­fit for nothing else, having no other idea!  I tell you I won’t support the loafer!