(_The_ MAID _comes with tea things_.) DANNY. Allow me, maiden. ELLEN. Dr. Bodie says I’m to bring two more cups. DANNY (_whose manner is always that of one who, bathroom or no bathroom, feels he is a general favourite_). If you please, child. PROBATIONER (_as soon as_ ELLEN _has gone_). Dr. Bodie is an angel. DANNY (_quite surprised that he has not thought of this before_). That’s what she is! CINDERELLA. Danny, can’t you say something comforting to poor Nurse. DANNY (_manfully_). I’m thankful to say I can. Nurse, I’ve often had fits of remorse; and I can assure you that they soon pass away, leaving not a mark behind. PROBATIONER. Dear Dr. Bodie! DANNY. Exactly. You’ve taken the words out of my mouth. The only thing for us to think of henceforth is what to do to please her. Her last words to us were to draw up to the tea-table. Are we to disregard the last words of that sublime female? PROBATIONER (_recovering_). No! (_The extra cups having been brought, the company of three settle down to their war-time tea-party, the tray being on_ CINDERELLA’S _lap and a guest on each side of the bed_.) DANNY. Our plain duty is now to attack the victuals so as to become strong in that Wonder’s service. Here’s to dear Dr. Bodie, and may she find plenty to do elsewhere till this party is over. PROBATIONER (_able to toss her head again_). After all, she put us in a false position. DANNY. That’s true. Down with her! PROBATIONER. I drink to you, Danny. DANNY (_gallantly_). And I reply with mine. CINDERELLA. It’s queer to think I’m being—what’s the word?—hostess. DANNY. All things are queer ever since the dull old days before the war; and not the unqueerest is that Daniel Duggan, once a plumber, is now partaking of currant cake with the Lady Charlotte something! CINDERELLA (_nearly letting her cup fall_). What? PROBATIONER. You weren’t supposed to know that. CINDERELLA. Does he mean you? Are you—? PROBATIONER. It’s nothing to make a fuss about, Cinderella. How did you find out, Danny? DANNY. Excuse me, but your haughty manner of wringing out a dishcloth betrayed you? My war-worn eyes, of various hues, have had the honour of seeing the Lady Charlotte washing the ward floor. O memorable day! O glorified floor! O blushing dishcloth! PROBATIONER. That was just a beginning. Some day I hope when I rise in the profession to be allowed to wash you, Danny. DANNY (_bowing grandly_). The pleasure, my lady, will be mutual. (_He hums a tune of the moment._) ‘And when I tell them that some day washed by her I’ll be—they’ll never believe me’— PROBATIONER (_with abandon_). ‘But when I tell them ’twas a jolly good thing for me—they’ll all believe me!’ DANNY. And when I tell them—and I certainly mean to tell them—that one day she’ll walk out with me— (_In a spirit of devilry he crooks his arm; she takes it—she walks out with him for a moment._) PROBATIONER (_coming to_). No. 7, what are we doing!