PENDLETON. Indeed! What's that? LEONARD. Well, do you know I had to fill up my census paper the other day and I was rather bothered to describe myself. Of course I'm a literary man but that hardly seems to cover the ground. I'm really a kind of sponge but that doesn't rank as a regular trade. TIMBRELL. You'll make nothing of him, Pendleton, when he's in this humour. EDGAR. Why can't you talk simply instead of spouting all this rot? LEONARD. You are always baffled when I tell the truth. EDGAR. It somehow ceases to be the truth when you tell it. LEONARD. Good. You see how my family is prejudiced against me, Mr. Pendleton. My virtues are not virtues, my white is black. My only chance is to put myself right by committing a crime. Then I should command sympathy, my family would begin to understand me. Mr. Pendleton, won't you consider these preliminaries over and give me a little assistance? I want something to do. Give me a place in your office. PENDLETON. [_Rather alarmed._] But, my dear boy, I'm afraid--I hardly think-- LEONARD. [_Burlesque so slight as to be hardly perceptible to PENDLETON._] Give me a chance, sir. I've a wife and family. PENDLETON. [_Laughing uneasily._] You're clever enough, I believe. TIMBRELL. He wouldn't do for an office boy. LEONARD. That's perfectly true. Most of the business men I have met would do for it very well. EDGAR. You'd better try the music-hall stage. LEONARD. Now that's quite a helpful suggestion. That's an idea, Edgar. Humbugs like myself make good actors. TIMBRELL.--You are not serious, sir. LEONARD. Hardly. No. PENDLETON. I've heard that Harry Lauder got--how much a week was it--when he--? something astonishing. Why, sir, there are very few merchants in the city of London who make as much. LEONARD. [_Reflecting._] The music-halls. Mary! [_Deep in talk with MRS. TIMBRELL she doesn't hear._] No matter. PENDLETON. They've something better to talk about. LEONARD. When I see two women talking like that I always think it must be about the servant question. EDGAR. I say! What infernally bad taste! TIMBRELL. [_Breaking impatiently away._] My dear, isn't dinner ready? LEONARD. Where's the fatted calf? MRS. TIMBRELL. Oh! dear! Ring the bell, somebody. [_Somebody rings the bell._] Mrs. Pendleton, I'm very remiss but this is a family party, you know. Mary was telling me about the baby. MRS. PENDLETON. You must let me come and see it, my dear. [_To ADA._] Is it a boy or a girl? ADA. It's a--it's a-- [_She looks at SHEILA._] SHEILA. } { Boy. } [_Together._] MRS. TIMBRELL. } { Girl. LEONARD. It's a very remarkable baby. MRS. PENDLETON. [_To MRS. TIMBRELL._] A boy. How very nice. And what have you called him? MARY. Leonard. MRS. PENDLETON. Right, my dear. I think the eldest son ought always to be called after his father. LEONARD. Confusing for the historian. [_Enter maidservant._] MRS. TIMBRELL. Oh! Beryl, isn't dinner ready.