(_Nelly takes books from the table and puts them away in case, and in other ways tidies up the room while talking._) NELLY MORRIS. He's working so hard you see--so terribly hard. He'll be able to rest a bit when he's passed his exam. MRS. WHEEDLES. Yes, of course--that is if he does pass it. NELLY MORRIS. Don't say "if," Mrs. Wheedles, please. You don't know what it means to us. He must pass--he must. He's worked so hard. MRS. WHEEDLES. Ah, it's never those who know the most that do pass. I've had a few medicos, as they call themselves, through my hands, and it's always the ones that will never know the difference between croup and rheumatism that get through. NELLY MORRIS. I'm afraid that doesn't promise very well for Ted. MRS. WHEEDLES. No, my dear, I am sorely afraid he won't pass--sorely afraid. But there, you can never tell, and one should always look on the bright side of things, they say. (_Beginning to cry._) NELLY MORRIS. You don't help one to do so very much, Mrs. Wheedles. MRS. WHEEDLES. I never like to see anyone too sanguine, my dear. He doesn't eat enough to keep himself well, and you won't let me send a little bit of anything up now and then. NELLY MORRIS. How can we, you kind old soul, when we owe you as much as we do already? And Heaven knows how we shall ever be able to pay you if he doesn't pass. MRS. WHEEDLES. Ah, you don't like to feel that you owe anything to a poor old lodging-house keeper. I only wish all of them were as considerate. I'd be better off than I am. But suppose, now, it didn't come out of my pocket, but from someone who could well afford it--who--was rich--and who---- NELLY MORRIS. What do you mean, Mrs. Wheedles? Have you been telling anyone of our poverty? Have you been asking for charity for us? MRS. WHEEDLES. Lord help the child, no! How you do flare up. I haven't said a word to anyone. (_Aside._) That's the truth anyhow. NELLY MORRIS. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to be cross. I know how kindly you meant it, but you don't understand. We're not so very poor, you know. Ted can't work if he eats heavily, and----(_Turns away, choking a sob._) MRS. WHEEDLES. Ah, poor dears--and both as proud as lucifers, so that nobody can help 'em. Ah, well, my dear, I only just looked in to cheer you up a bit. There's nothing I can do for you, I suppose? NELLY MORRIS. No, thank you, Mrs. Wheedles. I'll get you to let Martha boil me a few potatoes later on. (_Knock heard at door, which Mrs. Wheedles has left open._) ADAM CHERRY. (_Looking in_.) Can I come in? MRS. WHEEDLES. It's Mr. Cherry, my dear. NELLY MORRIS. Oh yes, come in, Mr. Cherry. (_Enter Cherry. He is a dapper little man of about fifty-five, but dresses, and tries to look younger. He carries a book in his hand which he seems anxious to keep out of sight._) ADAM CHERRY. Ah, Mrs. Wheedles, you here? ADAM CHERRY. (_He looks from one to the other._) I suppose you've been cheering up Miss Morris? MRS. WHEEDLES.