MRS. CHINN. (_Seating herself_.) Thank you, sir. GEOFFREY. (_He half sits on the arm of the easy-chair below the fire_.) What’s the trouble? MRS. CHINN. It’s my boy, sir—my youngest. He’s been taking money that didn’t belong to him. GEOFFREY. Um. Has it been going on for long? MRS. CHINN. About six months, sir. I only heard of it to-night. You see, his wife died a year ago. She was such a good manager. And after she was gone he seems to have got into debt. GEOFFREY. What were his wages? MRS. CHINN. Nineteen shillings a week, sir. And that with the rent and three young children—well, it wants thinking out. GEOFFREY. From whom did he take the money—his employers? MRS. CHINN. Yes, sir. He was the carman. They had always trusted him to collect the accounts. GEOFFREY. How much, would you say, was the defalcation? MRS. CHINN. I beg pardon, sir. GEOFFREY. How much does it amount to, the sums that he has taken? MRS. CHINN. Six pounds, sir, Mr. Cohen says it comes to. GEOFFREY. Won’t they accept repayment? MRS. CHINN. Yes, sir. Mr. Cohen has been very nice about it. He is going to let me pay it off by instalments. GEOFFREY. Well, then, that gets over most of the trouble. MRS. CHINN. Well, you see, sir, unfortunately, Mr. Cohen gave information to the police the moment he discovered it. GEOFFREY. Umph! Can’t he say he made a mistake? MRS. CHINN. They say it must go for trial, sir. That he can only withdraw the charge in court. GEOFFREY. Um! MRS. CHINN. You see, sir—a thing like that—(_She recovers herself_.) It clings to a lad. GEOFFREY. What do you want me to do? MRS. CHINN. Well, sir, I thought that, perhaps—you see, sir, he has got a brother in Canada who would help him; and I thought that if I could ship him off— GEOFFREY. You want me to tip the wink to the police to look the other way while you smuggle this young malefactor out of the clutches of the law? MRS. CHINN. (_Quite indifferent to the moral aspect of the case_.) If you would be so kind, sir. GEOFFREY. Umph! I suppose you know what you’re doing; appealing through your womanhood to man’s weakness—employing “backstairs influence” to gain your private ends, indifferent to the higher issues of the public weal? All the things that are going to cease when woman has the vote. MRS. CHINN. You see, sir, he’s the youngest. (_Gradually the decent but dingy figure of_ MRS. CHINN _has taken to itself new shape_. _To_ GEOFFREY, _it almost seems as though there were growing out of the shadows over against him the figure of great Artemis herself—Artemis of the Thousand Breasts_. _He had returned home angry_, _bitter against all women_. _As she unfolds her simple tale understanding comes to him_. _So long as there are_ “_Mrs. Chinns_” _in the world_, _Woman claims homage_.) GEOFFREY. How many were there? MRS. CHINN. Ten altogether, six living. GEOFFREY. Been a bit of a struggle for you, hasn’t it?