Florence. Then why haven't you told father before this? Elsie. Because Jack's old-fashioned and thinks he ought to speak to father first. He's got a perfectly ridiculous respect for father. Florence. Father's his employer. _We_ don't think much of father, but I expect there _are_ people who regard him as quite a big man. Elsie. That needn't have made Jack a coward. As father's ceased to employ him perhaps he'll get his out-of-date interview over now. (_She runs suddenly to window._) Florence. What's the matter? Elsie. I'm sure I heard a ring. Florence. You've got sharp ears. Do you mean to tell me that in this room you can hear a bell in the kitchen? Elsie (_opening window_). It might be Jack. Florence (_following her_). Don't you know whether it is? Elsie. I can't see any one. Florence. But I thought people in your case didn't need to see. Don't you feel his unseen presence in your bones like you feel a thunderstorm? (_They are both in the window bay. Barnes, the butler, shows in Jack Metherell. Jack is dark and handsome with traces of coarseness, tall and of strong appearance, clean-shaven, dressed rather cheaply hut not vulgarly. A modest fellow, unspoiled by popular acclaim and simple-minded though successful. He remains near the door, not seeing the girls. Florence restrains Elsie._) Barnes. I will let Mr. Whitworth know you are here. Jack. Thank you. (_Barnes half closes door, then returns._) Barnes. Mr. Metherell, I was thinking of having a little money on the team this afternoon. Can I take it from you that it's safe? Jack. It depends which team you put it on. Barnes. Why, the Rovers, of course. Jack. Do you want to win your bet? Barnes. I do that. Jack. Then put it on Birchester. Barnes. Really, Mr. Metherell? Jack. Really. (_Barnes pauses, then._) Barnes. I will inform Mr. Whitworth that you are here. (_Exit Barnes. Jack watches him close door, then goes to bookcase, examines books, takes one out and begins to read studiously. Florence motions Elsie to remain and comes forward._) Florence. Good-morning, Mr. Metherell. Jack (_closing book quietly_). Good morning, Miss Florence. Florence. Are you much of a reader? Jack. I'm striving to improve my mind. Florence (_taking the book_). Good gracious, you've got hold of Plato. Jack. Yes. I have read him in the Everyman Edition, but I see this is a different translation by a Mr. Jowett. Florence. How learned you must be. Jack. Not I, more's the pity. We've two members in the Mutual Improvement League at our Sunday School who can read Plato in the original. I wish I could. Florence. Do you? I'll put it back (_replacing book_). You'll have no use for Plato in a minute. Jack. Why not, Miss Florence? (_Florence laughs and exit, leaving him looking after her. Elsie comes forward and puls her hands over his eyes._) Jack. It's Elsie. Elsie. Yes. It's Elsie. (_Facing him._) Aren't you going to kiss me, Jack? Jack. In your father's house?