LORD LOAM: (strongly). My orders, Agatha. LADY MARY. Now, father, please. LORD LOAM (striking an attitude). Before I give you any further orders, Crichton-- CRICHTON. Yes, my lord. LORD LOAM. (delighted) Pooh! It’s all right. LADY MARY. No. Please go on. LORD LOAM. Well, well. This question of the leadership; what do you think now, Crichton? CRICHTON. My lord, I feel it is a matter with which I have nothing to do. LORD LOAM. Excellent. Ha, Mary? That settles it, I think. LADY MARY. It seems to, but--I’m not sure. CRICHTON. It will settle itself naturally, my lord, without any interference from us. (The reference to nature gives general dissatisfaction.) LADY MARY. Father. LORD LOAM (a little severely). It settled itself long ago, Crichton, when I was born a peer, and you, for instance, were born a servant. CRICHTON (acquiescing). Yes, my lord, that was how it all came about quite naturally in England. We had nothing to do with it there, and we shall have as little to do with it here. TREHERNE (relieved). That’s all right. LADY MARY (determined to clinch the matter). One moment. In short, Crichton, his lordship will continue to be our natural head. CRICHTON. I dare say, my lady, I dare say. CATHERINE. But you must know. CRICHTON. Asking your pardon, my lady, one can’t be sure--on an island. (They look at each other uneasily.) LORD LOAM (warningly). Crichton, I don’t like this. CRICHTON (harassed). The more I think of it, your lordship, the more uneasy I become myself. When I heard, my lord, that you had left that hairpin behind--(He is pained.) LORD LOAM (feebly). One hairpin among so many would only have caused dissension. CRICHTON (very sorry to have to contradict him). Not so, my lord. From that hairpin we could have made a needle; with that needle we could, out of skins, have sewn trousers of which your lordship is in need; indeed, we are all in need of them. LADY MARY (suddenly self-conscious). All? CRICHTON. On an island, my lady. LADY MARY. Father. CRICHTON (really more distressed by the prospect than she). My lady, if nature does not think them necessary, you may be sure she will not ask you to wear them. (Shaking his head.) But among all this undergrowth-- LADY MARY. Now you see this man in his true colours. LORD LOAM (violently). Crichton, you will either this moment say, ‘Down with nature,’. CRICHTON (scandalised). My Lord! LORD LOAM (loftily). Then this is my last word to you; take a month’s notice. (If the hut had a door he would now shut it to indicate that the interview is closed.) CRICHTON (in great distress). Your lordship, the disgrace-- LORD LOAM (swelling). Not another word: you may go. LADY MARY (adamant). And don’t come to me, Crichton, for a character. ERNEST (whose immersion has cleared his brain). Aren’t you all forgetting that this is an island? (This brings them to earth with a bump. LORD LOAM looks to his eldest daughter for the fitting response.)