Don’t be such an old frump. If it gives me a certain amount of pleasure to give money away, why on earth shouldn’t I? I daresay that nineteen out of every twenty people I help are thoroughly worthless, but it’s only by doing something for them all that I can be quite certain of not missing the twentieth. FREDDIE. D’you want me to write to them at once? MRS. DOT. This very minute. FREDDIE. [_With a smile._] But that’ll only get rid of me, you know. Blenkinsop will still be here. MRS. DOT. [_Coolly._] James, do go and see that Freddie writes his letters nicely. He’s only just come down from Oxford, and his spelling is rather shaky. BLENKINSOP. [_With a grunt._] You can give us a shout when you’ve had your talk. MRS. DOT. Now mind, Freddie. I before E except after C. [_They go out._ GERALD. [_Laughing._] You’re a very bold woman, Mrs. Dot. MRS. DOT. [_With a change of tone._] What’s the matter, Gerald? GERALD. [_Surprised._] With me? MRS. DOT. Won’t you tell an old friend? GERALD. [_After a very short pause._] Nothing that you can help me in, Mrs. Dot. MRS. DOT. Won’t you leave the Mrs. out? It makes me feel so five and thirtyish. GERALD. You’re a ripping good sort, and we’ve had some charming times together. I’m glad that you came to-day, because it’s given me an opportunity to thank you for all your kindness to me. MRS. DOT. My dear boy, what _are_ you talking about? GERALD. Well, the fact is, I’ve been spending a good deal of money lately, and I’m rather broke. MRS. DOT. How stupid of me! I’ve always had such lots myself it never occurs to me that any one else may be hard up. And I’ve let you pay all sorts of things for me, theatres and dinners and heaven knows what. I must owe you a perfect fortune. GERALD. Nonsense! You don’t owe me a penny. MRS. DOT. Well then, in future I insist on paying for everything. I’m not going to give up our little dinners at the Savoy and our suppers and all the rest of it. Don’t be so silly. You know I have ten times more money than I know what to do with. GERALD. Yes, I can see you furtively slipping your purse into my hand so that I should pay for a luncheon, and giving me a shilling over for the cab. No, thank you. MRS. DOT. Then we’ll economise together. It only means going to the pit of a theatre instead of taking a box. Well, I like the pit much better. You see all the women come in and you criticise their back hair. And you suck delicious oranges all the time. It makes my mouth water to think of it. And we’ll go on a bus instead of taking cabs. They’re much safer, and I like sitting on the front seat and talking to the driver. Bus-drivers are always such handsome men. GERALD. It’s not a question of driving in buses, but of walking on my flat feet. MRS. DOT. Very well. You shall walk on your flat feet, and I’ll trip along by your side on my arched instep. GERALD. Things have come to such a pass that I must either beg, steal, or work. MRS. DOT.