MISS WILLOUGHBY. How do you do, Miss Phoebe. (_Portentously_) Susan, I have no wish to alarm you, but I am of opinion that there is a man in the house. I suddenly felt it while putting on my pattens. MISS SUSAN. You mean--a follower--in the kitchen? (_She courageously rings the bell, but her voice falters._) I am just a little afraid of Patty. (_Enter_ PATTY, _a buxom young woman, who loves her mistresses and smiles at them, and knows how to terrorise them._) Patty, I hope we may not hurt your feelings, but-- PATTY (_sternly_). Are you implicating, ma'am, that I have a follower? MISS SUSAN. Oh no, Patty. PATTY. So be it. MISS SUSAN (_ashamed_). Patty, come back, (_Humbly_) I told a falsehood just now; I am ashamed of myself. PATTY (_severely_). As well you might be, ma'am. PHOEBE (_so roused that she would look heroic if she did not spoil the effect by wagging her finger at_ PATTY). How dare you. There is a man in the kitchen. To the door with him. PATTY. A glorious soldier to be so treated! PHOEBE. The door. PATTY. And if he refuses? (_They looked perplexed._) MISS SUSAN. Oh dear! PHOEBE. If he refuses send him here to me. (_Exit PATTY._) MISS SUSAN. Lion-hearted Phoebe. MISS WILLOUGHBY. A soldier? (_Nervously_) I wish it may not be that impertinent recruiting sergeant. I passed him in the street to-day. He closed one of his eyes at me and then quickly opened it. I knew what he meant. PHOEBE. He does not come. MISS SUSAN. I think I hear their voices in dispute. (_She is listening through the floor. They all stoop or go on their knees to listen, and when they are in this position the_ RECRUITING SERGEANT _enters unobserved. He chuckles aloud. In a moment_ PHOEBE _is alone with him._) SERGEANT (_with an Irish accent_). Your servant, ma'am. PHOEBE (_advancing sternly on him_). Sir-- (_She is perplexed, as he seems undismayed._) Sergeant-- (_She sees mud from his boots on the carpet._) Oh! oh! (_Brushes carpet._) Sergeant, I am wishful to scold you, but would you be so obliging as to stand on this paper while I do it? SERGEANT. With all the pleasure in life, ma'am. PHOEBE (_forgetting to be angry_). Sergeant, have you killed people? SERGEANT. Dozens, ma'am, dozens. PHOEBE. How terrible. Oh, sir, I pray every night that the Lord in His loving-kindness will root the enemy up. Is it true that the Corsican Ogre eats babies? SERGEANT. I have spoken with them as have seen him do it, ma'am. PHOEBE. The Man of Sin. Have you ever seen a vivandiere, sir? (_Wistfully_) I have sometimes wished there were vivandieres in the British Army. (_For a moment she sees herself as one._) Oh, Sergeant, a shudder goes through me when I see you in the streets enticing those poor young men. SERGEANT. If you were one of them, ma'am, and death or glory was the call, you would take the shilling, ma'am. PHOEBE. Oh, not for that. SERGEANT. For King and Country, ma'am?