only house in the road it doesn't matter if nobody can get near it, I s'pose.
Mrs. White. Never mind, dear. Perhaps you'll win to-morrow. (She moves to back of table.)
Mr. White. Perhaps I'll—perhaps I'll——! What d'you mean? (Bursts out laughing) There! You always know what's going on inside o' me, don't you, mother?
Mrs. White. Ought to, after thirty years, John. (She goes to dresser, and busies herself wiping tumblers an tray there.)
Herbert (down c). And it's not such a bad place, dad, after all. One of the few old-fashioned houses left near London. None o' your stucco villas. Homelike, I call it. And so do you, or you wouldn't ha' bought it. (Rolls a cigarette.)
Mr. White (r., growling). Nice job I made o' that, too! With two hundred pounds owin' on it.
Herbert (on back of chair, c). Why, I shall work that off in no time, dad. Matter o' three years, with the rise promised me.
Mr. White. If you don't get married.
Herbert. Not me. Not that sort.
Mrs. White. I wish you would, Herbert. A good, steady, lad——
Herbert. Lots o' time, mother. Sufficient for the day—as the sayin' goes. Just now my dynamos don't leave me any time for love-making. Jealous they are, I tell you!
Mr. White (chuckling). I lay awake o' night often, and think: If Herbert took a nap, and let his what-d'you-call-ums—dynamos, run down, all Fulham
