TENTERDEN (_holding up a protesting hand_). Ah, well—that—I have no doubt whatever—I, too, would see that my daughter—but all that can be arranged later. That goes without saying. But naturally there are also other matters which will require to be discussed. I don’t know if Jack—— IRIS. You mean about the Beans? I told Daddy Broxopp. TENTERDEN (_blankly_). You told—ah? IRIS. Daddy Broxopp. BROXOPP (_with a proud smile_). What she is pleased to call me, Sir Roger. TENTERDEN. Oh—ah—yes. Quite so. Well there, we all understand the position. (_With his pleasant smile_) That clears the ground, doesn’t it, Mrs. Broxopp? NANCY. It’s much better to have things out. TENTERDEN. You put it admirably. It was with that purpose that I came round this morning. Jack had given me a hint of his feelings and—well, naturally, I had my feelings, too. It is a matter which, after all, concerns me very closely. BROXOPP (_puzzled_). Yes? TENTERDEN. Surely, my dear Broxopp! Iris’s child, Jack’s child, would be—_my_ grandson! IRIS. Father always looks well ahead. They have to in the City—don’t they, Father? TENTERDEN (_kindly_). My dear Iris, we have to do many things in the City, as Mr. Broxopp knows—— BROXOPP. Oh, I know nothing of your part of the City. I’m not a financier. It’s no good coming to _me_ for a good investment. TENTERDEN (_with a bow_). Then may I hope that you will come to me if ever you should want one? BROXOPP (_taken aback_). Thank you. It’s very good of you, Sir Roger. TENTERDEN. Not at all. But I was saying that we need not talk about the City now. In all walks of life we have to look ahead. And I have to ask myself this, Mrs. Broxopp. Is “Roger Broxopp” a desirable name for—my grandson? IRIS (_to JACK_). Father’s got as far as the christening now. I shall have another baby directly. JACK (_miserably_). I wish he wouldn’t. BROXOPP. I see your point of view, Sir Roger. Don’t think that I don’t see it. TENTERDEN (_bowing_). That is very generous of you. And I think it is important. There is—ah—a poster to which my attention has naturally been called, saying—ah—“I am a Broxopp baby, are you?” I think—— (_He looks enquiringly at BROXOPP._) BROXOPP. That’s right, Sir Roger. I thought of that twenty-five years ago. Do you remember, Nancy? NANCY (_pressing his hand_). I remember, Jim. TENTERDEN. An excellent poster for its purpose, I have no doubt, Mrs. Broxopp. An excellent picture, no doubt, of Master Jack at that age. (_He smiles at JACK._) But seeing that all babies are pretty much alike—— NANCY (_quickly_). Oh no! TENTERDEN (_with a charming bow_). Who would contradict a woman on such a question? Let me say rather that since, to the undiscerning male, all babies are alike, there would be the danger, the very serious danger, that people might suppose the words beneath the picture to have been uttered by—(_he pauses dramatically_) my grandson! IRIS. Roger Broxopp.