_Tom._ Now, that man’s commanded a regiment for years--he’s enjoyed the unlimited confidence of his sovereign (whoever that may be), and a thousand men have looked up to him with reverence and esteem. And it’s been left to me (who am not naturally sharp) to find out that he’s an atrocious scoundrel! _Enter _Footman_, followed by MR. EFFINGHAM, MRS. EFFINGHAM, BULSTRODE EFFINGHAM, and CAROLINE. COBB takes up newspaper and sits._ _Foot._ The Colonel will be here directly, ma’am. [_Exit _Footman_. The others pose themselves in a group, as if being photographed:--MR. EFFINGHAM seated, MRS. EFFINGHAM leaning on his left shoulder, CAROLINE seated in a picturesque attitude at her feet, and BULSTRODE standing gloomily behind._ _Mrs. Eff._ Adolphus, what a sweet spot! A rural paradise, indeed. How balmy, and yet how cheap! _Eff._ I am an old, old man, and I have learnt the hollowness of outward splendours. The house is, indeed, well enough, and (it may be) cheap--but, after all, what _is_ the house? _Tom._ (_politely._) Seventy-five pounds a year, on a three years’ agreement, I believe. _Eff._ (_not heeding him._) After all, what _is_ the house but the outer husk? Let us rather learn to value the fruit within. The shell, truly, is goodly; but where, oh, where is the kernel? _Tom_ (_politely_). He will be here in one minute. (_All turn to look at him._) I beg your pardon. (_They all turn slowly back again._) _Bul._ (_gloomily_). To the soaring soul, fettered by stern destiny to the office stool of an obscure attorney, the contemplation of such a paradise opens a new vista of Life’s Possibilities. _Mrs. Eff._ My crushed and broken boy! _Bul._ In such a home as this I feel I could lay the warp and woof of a Great Life. In the dingy purlieus of Somers Town life has no warp--no woof. _Tom._ A kind of shoddy. _All._ Sir! _Tom._ Nothing--I didn’t speak. (_They turn back as before._) (_Aside._) Extraordinary family! _Mrs Eff._ If there is one class of young men I detest beyond another, it is the class of young men who see a humorous side to everything. _Car._ In the eyes of such a one the doughtiest deeds are the subject of a sneer--the noblest thoughts, the peg on which to hang a parody. _Bul._ Go to, sir--go to. _Eff._ (_to MRS. EFF._). I am an aged man--let me play the peacemaker. Remember, you are not as others are--you are a thing of thought--an abstraction. You must not expect the young man of average tastes to grasp you. _Mrs Eff._ I do _not_ expect any young man to grasp _me_. _Tom._ And she’s right. _Eff._ (_rising and approaching TOM_). We pity you, young man, but do not despise you. Read the master thoughts of mighty minds. Withdraw yourself within yourself. Soar. Be abstract. Think long and largely. Study the incomprehensible. Revolve. So will you learn at last to detach yourself from the sordid world, and float, as we float, in thoughts of empyrean purity.