COOK. Not Master Johnny.
MRS MARCH. Johnny! He's the worst of all. His poetry is nothing but
one long explosion.
MR MARCH. [Coming from the window] I say We ought to have faith and
jump.
MRS MARCH. If we do have Faith, we shall jump.
COOK. [Blankly] Of course, in the Bible they 'ad faith, and just look
what it did to them!
MR MARCH. I mean faith in human instincts, human nature, Cook.
COOK. [Scandalised] Oh! no, sir, not human nature; I never let that get
the upper hand.
MR MARCH. You talk to Mr Bly. He's a remarkable man.
COOK. I do, sir, every fortnight when he does the kitchen windows.
MR MARCH. Well, doesn't he impress you?
COOK. Ah! When he's got a drop o' stout in 'im--Oh! dear! [She smiles
placidly.]
JOHNNY has come in.
MR MARCH. Well, Johnny, has Mary told you?
MRS MARCH. [Looking at his face] Now, my dear boy, don't be hasty and
foolish!
JOHNNY. Of course you ought to take her, Mother.
MRS MARCH. [Fixing him] Have you seen her, Johnny?
JOHNNY. She's in the hall, poor little devil, waiting for her sentence.
MRS MARCH. There are plenty of other chances, Johnny. Why on earth
should we--?
JOHNNY. Mother, it's just an instance. When something comes along that
takes a bit of doing--Give it to the other chap!
MR MARCH. Bravo, Johnny!
MRS MARCH. [Drily] Let me see, which of us will have to put up with her
shortcomings--Johnny or I?
MARY.
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