BLY. I've been tellin' Mr March and the young lady what you're capable of. Show 'em what you can do with a plate. FAITH takes the tray from the sideboard and begins to clear the table, mainly by the light of nature. After a glance, MR MARCH looks out of the window and drums his fingers on the uncleaned pane. MR BLY goes on with his cleaning. MARY, after watching from the hearth, goes up and touches her father's arm. MARY. [Between him and MR BLY who is bending over his bucket, softly] You're not watching, Dad. MR MARCH. It's too pointed. MARY. We've got to satisfy mother. MR MARCH. I can satisfy her better if I don't look. MARY. You're right. FAITH has paused a moment and is watching them. As MARY turns, she resumes her operations. MARY joins, and helps her finish clearing, while the two men converse. BLY. Fine weather, sir, for the time of year. MR MARCH. It is. The trees are growing. BLY. All! I wouldn't be surprised to see a change of Government before long. I've seen 'uge trees in Brazil without any roots--seen 'em come down with a crash. MR MARCH. Good image, Mr Bly. Hope you're right! BLY. Well, Governments! They're all the same--Butter when they're out of power, and blood when they're in. And Lord! 'ow they do abuse other Governments for doin' the things they do themselves. Excuse me, I'll want her dosseer back, sir, when you've done with it. MR MARCH. Yes, yes. [He turns, rubbing his hands at the cleared table] Well, that seems all right! And you can do hair? FAITH. Oh! Yes, I can do hair. [Again that little soft look, and smile so carefully adjusted.] MR MARCH. That's important, don't you think, Mary? [MARY, accustomed to candour, smiles dubiously.] [Brightly] Ah! And cleaning plate? What about that? FAITH. Of course, if I had the opportunity-- MARY. You haven't--so far? FAITH. Only tin things. MR MARCH. [Feeling a certain awkwardness] Well, I daresay we can find some for you. Can you--er--be firm on the telephone? FAITH. Tell them you're engaged when you're not? Oh! yes. MR MARCH. Excellent! Let's see, Mary, what else is there? MARY. Waiting, and house work. MR MARCH. Exactly. FAITH. I'm very quick. I--I'd like to come. [She looks down] I don't care for what I'm doing now. It makes you feel your position. MARY. Aren't they nice to you? FAITH. Oh! yes--kind; but-- [She looks up] it's against my instincts. MR MARCH. Oh! [Quizzically] You've got a disciple, Mr Bly. BLY. [Rolling his eyes at his daughter] Ah! but you mustn't 'ave instincts here, you know. You've got a chance, and you must come to stay, and do yourself credit. FAITH. [Adapting her face] Yes, I know, I'm very lucky. MR MARCH. [Deprecating thanks and moral precept] That's all right! Only, Mr Bly, I can't absolutely answer for Mrs March. She may think-- MARY. There is Mother; I heard the door.