Mr. White (moving at last, and triumphant). There, Herbert, my boy I Got you, I think.
Herbert. Oh, you're a deep 'un, dad, aren't you?
Mr. White. Mean to say he's beaten you at last?
Herbert. Lor, no! Why, he's overlooked——
Mr. White (very excited). I see it I Lemme have that back!
Herbert. Not much. Rules of the game!
Mr. White (disgusted). I don't hold with them scientific rules. You turn what ought to be an innocent relaxation——
Mr. White. Don't talk so much, father. You put him off——
Herbert (laughing). Not he!
Mr. White (trying to distract his attention). Hark at the wind.
Herbert (drily). Ah! I'm listening. Check.
Mr. White (still trying to distract him). I should hardly think Sergeant-Major Morris'd come to-night.
Herbert. Mate. (Rises, goes up l.)
Mr. White (with an outbreak of disgust and sweeping the chessmen off the board). That's the worst of living so far out. Your friends can't come for a quiet chat, and you addle your brains over a confounded——
Herbert. Now, father! Morris'll turn up all right.
Mr. White (still in a temper). Lovers' Lane, Fulham! Ho! of all the beastly, slushy, out-o'-the-way places to live in——! Pathway's a bog, and the road's a torrent. (To Mrs. White, who has risen, and is at his side.) What's the County Council thinking of, that's what I want to know? Because this is the
