BURGESS (roaring with glee). Down in Surrey--har, har! that's not a bad one. Well, I never met a man as didn't know Nortn Folgit before.(Abashed at his own noisiness.) Good-bye, Mr. Morchbanks: I know yo're too 'ighbred to take my pleasantry in bad part. (He again offers his hand.) MARCHBANKS (taking it with a nervous jerk). Not at all. BURGESS. Bye, bye, Candy. I'll look in again later on. So long, James. MORELL. Must you go? BURGESS. Don't stir. (He goes out with unabated heartiness.) MORELL. Oh, I'll see you out. (He follows him out. Eugene stares after them apprehensively, holding his breath until Burgess disappears.) CANDIDA (laughing). Well, Eugene. (He turns with a start and comes eagerly towards her, but stops irresolutely as he meets her amused look.) What do you think of my father? MARCHBANKS. I--I hardly know him yet. He seems to be a very nice old gentleman. CANDIDA (with gentle irony). And you'll go to the Freeman Founders to dine with him, won't you? MARCHBANKS (miserably, taking it quite seriously). Yes, if it will please you. CANDIDA (touched). Do you know, you are a very nice boy, Eugene, with all your queerness. If you had laughed at my father I shouldn't have minded; but I like you ever so much better for being nice to him. MARCHBANKS. Ought I to have laughed? I noticed that he said something funny; but I am so ill at ease with strangers; and I never can see a joke! I'm very sorry. (He sits down on the sofa, his elbows on his knees and his temples between his fists, with an expression of hopeless suffering.) CANDIDA (bustling him goodnaturedly). Oh, come! You great baby, you! You are worse than usual this morning. Why were you so melancholy as we came along in the cab? MARCHBANKS. Oh, that was nothing. I was wondering how much I ought to give the cabman. I know it's utterly silly; but you don't know how dreadful such things are to me--how I shrink from having to deal with strange people. (Quickly and reassuringly.) But it's all right. He beamed all over and touched his hat when Morell gave him two shillings. I was on the point of offering him ten. (Candida laughs heartily. Morell comes back with a few letters and newspapers which have come by the midday post.) CANDIDA. Oh, James, dear, he was going to give the cabman ten shillings--ten shillings for a three minutes' drive--oh, dear! MORELL (at the table, glancing through the letters). Never mind her, Marchbanks. The overpaying instinct is a generous one: better than the underpaying instinct, and not so common. MARCHBANKS (relapsing into dejection). No: cowardice, incompetence. Mrs. Morell's quite right.