Mrs. G. (_irritably_). Calm? How can I be calm? I'm on edge till I know. (_Rocking her chair quickly._) Mar. (_trying to soothe her_). It isn't as if he can't try again if he's not through this time. Mrs. G. (_confidently, keeping her chair still_). He'll have no need to try again. I've a son and his name this night is Peter Garside, b.a. I know he's through. Mar. (_sitting in chair lift of table_). Then if you're sure---- Mrs. G. Yes. I know I'm a fidget. I want to hear it from his own lips. He's worked so hard he can't fail. (_Accusingly._) You don't believe me, Margaret. You're not sure of him. Mar. (_with elbows on table and head on hands_). I'm fearful of the odds against him--the chances that the others have and he hasn't. _Peter's_ to work for his living. _They're_ free to study all day long. (_Rising, enthusiastically._) Oh, if he does it, what a triumph for our class. Peter Garside, the Board School boy, the working engineer, keeping himself and you, and studying at night for his degree. Mrs. G. (_dogmatically_). The odds don't count. I know Peter. Peter's good enough for any odds. You doubt him, Margaret. Mar. No. I've seen him work. I've worked with him till he distanced me and left me far behind. He knows enough to pass, to pass above them all---- Mrs. G. Yes, yes! Mar. But examinations are a fearful hazard. Mrs. G. Not to Peter. He's fighting for his class, he's showing them he's the better man. He can work with his hands and they can't, and he can work with his brain as well as the best of them. Mar. He'll do it. It may not be this time, but he'll do it in the end. Mrs. G. (_obstinately_). This time, Margaret. Mar. I do hope so. Mrs. G. (_looking at the clock_). Do you think there's been a breakdown on the cars? Mar. No, no. Mrs. G. (_rising anxiously_). He said seven, and it's after that. Mar. (_trying to soothe her_). Not much. Mrs. G. (_pacing about_). Why doesn't he come? (_Stopping short._) Where do people go to find out if there's been an accident? It's the police station, isn't it? Mar. Oh, there's no need---- [_Peter Garside bursts in through centre door and closes it behind him as he speaks. He is 23, cleanshaven, fair, sturdily built, with a large, loose mouth, strong jaw, and square face, dressed in a cheap tweed suit, wearing a red tie._ Peter (_breathlessly_). I've done it. Mrs. G. (_going to him; he puts his arm round her and pats her back, while she hides her face against his chest_). My boy, my boy! Peter. I've done it, mother. (_Looking proudly at Margaret._) I'm an honours man of Midlandton University. Mar. First class, Peter? Peter. Yes. First Class. (_Gently disengaging himself from Mrs. Garside._) Mrs. G. (_standing by his left, looking up at him_). I knew, I knew it, Peter. I had the faith in you.