MAZZINI [smiling]. I'm afraid Ellie is not interested in young men, Mrs Hushabye. Her taste is on the graver, solider side. MRS HUSHABYE [with a sudden rather hard brightness in her manner]. Won't you take off your overcoat, Mr Dunn? You will find a cupboard for coats and hats and things in the corner of the hall. MAZZINI [hastily releasing Ellie]. Yes--thank you--I had better-- [he goes out]. MRS HUSHABYE [emphatically]. The old brute! ELLIE. Who? MRS HUSHABYE. Who! Him. He. It [pointing after Mazzini]. "Graver, solider tastes," indeed! ELLIE [aghast]. You don't mean that you were speaking like that of my father! MRS HUSHABYE. I was. You know I was. ELLIE [with dignity]. I will leave your house at once. [She turns to the door]. MRS HUSHABYE. If you attempt it, I'll tell your father why. ELLIE [turning again]. Oh! How can you treat a visitor like this, Mrs Hushabye? MRS HUSHABYE. I thought you were going to call me Hesione. ELLIE. Certainly not now? MRS HUSHABYE. Very well: I'll tell your father. ELLIE [distressed]. Oh! MRS HUSHABYE. If you turn a hair--if you take his part against me and against your own heart for a moment, I'll give that born soldier of freedom a piece of my mind that will stand him on his selfish old head for a week. ELLIE. Hesione! My father selfish! How little you know-- She is interrupted by Mazzini, who returns, excited and perspiring. MAZZINI. Ellie, Mangan has come: I thought you'd like to know. Excuse me, Mrs Hushabye, the strange old gentleman-- MRS HUSHABYE. Papa. Quite so. MAZZINI. Oh, I beg your pardon, of course: I was a little confused by his manner. He is making Mangan help him with something in the garden; and he wants me too-- A powerful whistle is heard. THE CAPTAIN'S VOICE. Bosun ahoy! [the whistle is repeated]. MAZZINI [flustered]. Oh dear! I believe he is whistling for me. [He hurries out]. MRS HUSHABYE. Now MY father is a wonderful man if you like. ELLIE. Hesione, listen to me. You don't understand. My father and Mr Mangan were boys together. Mr Ma-- MRS HUSHABYE. I don't care what they were: we must sit down if you are going to begin as far back as that. [She snatches at Ellie's waist, and makes her sit down on the sofa beside her]. Now, pettikins, tell me all about Mr Mangan. They call him Boss Mangan, don't they? He is a Napoleon of industry and disgustingly rich, isn't he? Why isn't your father rich? ELLIE. My poor father should never have been in business. His parents were poets; and they gave him the noblest ideas; but they could not afford to give him a profession. MRS HUSHABYE. Fancy your grandparents, with their eyes in fine frenzy rolling! And so your poor father had to go into business. Hasn't he succeeded in it?