MR. FREEMAN: What John does in his spare time is nothing to do with me. It’s not his spare time I’m bothered about ... it’s his working life. MRS. FREEMAN: He _is_ engaged to Frankie ... suppose there should be anything serious with this other girl. MR. FREEMAN: What other girl? MRS. FREEMAN: _Somebody_ writes those letters. MR. FREEMAN: ... Um.... I shouldn’t worry ... he’s not quite a fool.... Leave it to me. I’ll give him this. MRS. FREEMAN: He’s not happy. MR. FREEMAN: If a man neglects his work as John’s doing, he can’t expect to be happy. MRS. FREEMAN: Has he told you he isn’t going to spend Christmas with us? MR. FREEMAN: Where’s he going...? MRS. FREEMAN: To stay with Mr. ... I don’t know his name ... his friend. MR. FREEMAN: Funny-lookin’ feller ... always in the house. _I_ know. That’s another thing; who _is_ this feller?... I don’t know. MRS. FREEMAN (_taking her son’s part_): He’s always had the attic for his own ... hasn’t he? ... with his own friends. MR. FREEMAN: I know. I’ve never interfered. I’ve no wish to interfere ... when he was a baby in the nursery up there--or a schoolboy with his friends, but now ... here’s this feller ... he called yesterday when John was out--I met him on the stairs ... didn’t know him from Adam; we grinned ... dam’ silly.... Hullo! [_There has been a prolonged moaning wailing sound--like the cry of some agonised ghost. MR. FREEMAN hurries to the window._ It’s Frankie ... in the new car; with her father. Hullo! How are you! (_He waves cordially. The window being shut there it not the remotest chance of his being heard._) Hullo, Frankie ... pretty girl she’s getting. (_He comes away from the window._) ’Spose she’s come for John. I shall speak to him to-night, when he comes in. MRS. FREEMAN: I shouldn’t say too much about his friend upstairs. MR. FREEMAN: Um? MRS. FREEMAN: Well, we did make the arrangement he should be private upstairs--as if it were his own flat. MR. FREEMAN: I don’t suppose I’ve been up there for a year. MRS. FREEMAN: Nor have I ... he might take a flat of his own. I shouldn’t like that. [_ROSIE, a picturesque little parlour-maid, shows in FRANKIE SEWELL. She is a pretty girl of twenty-four or so, and is very good at tennis and hockey._ MRS. FREEMAN: Well, Frankie dear. FRANKIE: Good evening, Mrs. Freeman. [_They kiss._ MR. FREEMAN: What have you done with your father? FRANKIE: He couldn’t come in; he’s going to call back for me. MR. FREEMAN: Your young man isn’t in. FRANKIE: Isn’t he? [_Again the cry of the agonised ghost._ FRANKIE: Your gate’s in awfully good voice to-night. MR. FREEMAN (_who has gone to the window_): Wants oil. FRANKIE (_at a bowl of chocolates on the table_): May I? MRS. FREEMAN: Of course, dear. FRANKIE: Thank you. MR. FREEMAN (_back from the window; aside to his wife_): It’s John. Take her into the drawing-room.