Elsie. A duty. Will you believe me, he never misses a match, uncle? Leo. If you want to know, I go for professional reasons. Edmund. Professional? Leo. I am training myself to be a close observer of my fellow men, and in a football crowd I can study human passions in the raw. To the earnest student of psychology the interest is enormous. Elsie. Yes. You wait for his psychological shout when Blackton score a goal. You'll know then if his lungs are weak. We go because we like it and so does he, only we're not ashamed of our tastes and he is. Wait till Jack Metherel comes on the field this afternoon in the old red and gold of the Blackton Rovers and---- (_Austin Whitworth enters while she speaks and interrupts her. Without being grossly fat, Austin is better covered than Edmund, whose elder brother he is. Without exaggeration, his lounge suit suggests sporting tendencies. His manner is less confident than that of Edmund, the successful carver-out of a career, and at times curiously deferential to his brother. Obviously a nice fellow and, not so obviously, in some difficulty. With his children he is on friendly chaffing terms, so habitually getting the worst of the chaff that he is in danger of becoming a nonentity in his own house. He wears a moustache, which, like his remaining hair, is grey. Florence follows him._). Austin. But Metherell won't. Elsie. What. Has Jack hurt himself at practice? Austin. No. Leo. What's up with him? Austin. Nothing. Elsie. Then why isn't he playing? Austin. He is playing. Elsie. You just said---- Austin. He won't wear the Blackton colours. He's playing for Birchester. He's transferred. Elsie. You've transferred Jack Metherell! Father, you're joking. Austin. No. Elsie (_tensely_). I'll never forgive you. He's the only man on the team who's Blackton born and bred. The rest are all foreigners. Florence. Who've you got to put in his place? There isn't another centre forward amongst them. Austin. There's Angus. Florence. Angus! He can't sprint for toffee, and his shooting's the limit. Austin. Well, you've to make the best you can of Angus. Metherell belongs to Birchester now. Elsie. I don't know what you're thinking about, father. Are you mad? What did you do it for? Austin. Money, my dear, which the Club needs badly. Elsie. It'll need it worse if we lose to-day and drop to the second division. Austin. We must not lose to-day. Florence. You're asking for it. Transferring Metherell. The rest are a pack of rotters. Austin. They've got to fight for their lives to-day. Birchester offered a record fee on condition I fixed at once. I was there last night with Metherell and he signed on for them. Florence. It's a howling shame. Leo. And over Blackton Rovers was written Ichabod, their glory is departed. Elsie. Father, do you mind if I go? I might say some of the things I'm thinking if I stayed.