MITCHENER (outraged). Attention. Speak when youre spoken to. Hold your tongue when youre not. Right about face. March. (The Orderly obeys.) Thats the way to keep these chaps up to the mark. (The Orderly returns.) Back again! What do you mean by this mutiny? THE ORDERLY. What am I to say to the ladies, sir? BALSQUITH. You dont mind my seeing them somewhere, do you? MITCHENER. Not at all. Bring them in to see me when youve done with them: I understand that Lady Corinthia is a very fascinating woman. Who is she, by the way? BALSQUITH. Daughter of Lord Broadstairs, the automatic turbine man. Gave quarter of a million to the party funds. Shes musical and romantic and all that--dont hunt: hates politics: stops in town all the year round: one never sees her anywhere except at the opera and at musical at-homes and so forth. MITCHENER. What a life! Still, if she wants to see me I dont mind. (To the Orderly.) Where are the ladies? THE ORDERLY. In No. 17, Sir. MITCHENER. Show Mr. Balsquith there. And send Mrs. Farrell here. THE ORDERLY (calling into the corridor). Mrs. Farrell! (To Balsquith.) This way sir. (He goes out with Balsquith.) Mrs. Farrell, a lean, highly respectable Irish Charwoman of about 50 comes in. MITCHENER. Mrs. Farrell: Ive a very important visit to pay: I shall want my full dress uniform and all my medals and orders and my presentation sword. There was a time when the British Army contained men capable of discharging these duties for their commanding officer. Those days are over. The compulsorily enlisted soldier runs to a woman for everything. Im therefore reluctantly obliged to trouble you. MRS FARRELL. Your meddles n ordhers n the crooked sword with the ivory handle n your full dress uniform is in the waxworks in the Chamber o Military Glory over in the place they used to call the Banquetin Hall. I told you youd be sorry for sendin them away; n you told me to mind me own business. Youre wiser now. MITCHENER. I am. I had not at that time discovered that you were the only person in the whole military establishment of this capital who could be trusted to remember where anything was, or to understand an order and obey it. MRS. FARRELL. Its no good flattherin me. Im too old. MITCHENER. Not at all, Mrs. Farrell. How is your daughter? MRS. FARRELL. Which daughther. MITCHENER. The one who has made such a gratifying success in the Music Halls. MRS. FARRELL. Theres no music halls nowadays: theyre Variety Theatres. Shes got an offer of marriage from a young jook. MITCHENER. Is it possible? What did you do? MRS. FARRELL. I told his mother on him. MITCHENER. Oh! what did she say? MRS. FARRELL. She was as pleased as Punch. Thank Heaven, she says, hes got somebody thatll be able to keep him when the supertax is put up to twenty shillings in the pound. MITCHENER. But your daughter herself? What did she say?