PHILIP. William: you remember my request to you to regard me as your son? WAITER (with respectful indulgence). Yes, sir. Anything you please, sir. PHILIP. William: at the very outset of your career as my father, a rival has appeared on the scene. WAITER. Your real father, sir? Well, that was to be expected, sooner or later, sir, wasn't it? (Turning with a happy smile to McComas.) Is it you, sir? McCOMAS (renerved by indignation). Certainly not. My children know how to behave themselves. PHILIP. No, William: this gentleman was very nearly my father: he wooed my mother, but wooed her in vain. McCOMAS (outraged). Well, of all the-- PHILIP. Sh! Consequently, he is only our solicitor. Do you know one Crampton, of this town? WAITER. Cock-eyed Crampton, sir, of the Crooked Billet, is it? PHILIP. I don't know. Finch: does he keep a public house? McCOMAS (rising scandalized). No, no, no. Your father, sir, is a well-known yacht builder, an eminent man here. WAITER (impressed). Oh, beg pardon, sir, I'm sure. A son of Mr. Crampton's! Dear me! PHILIP. Mr. Crampton is coming to lunch with us. WAITER (puzzled). Yes, sir. (Diplomatically.) Don't usually lunch with his family, perhaps, sir? PHILIP (impressively). William: he does not know that we are his family. He has not seen us for eighteen years. He won't know us. (To emphasize the communication he seats himself on the iron table with a spring, and looks at the waiter with his lips compressed and his legs swinging.) DOLLY. We want you to break the news to him, William. WAITER. But I should think he'd guess when he sees your mother, miss. (Philip's legs become motionless at this elucidation. He contemplates the waiter raptly.) DOLLY (dazzled). I never thought of that. PHILIP. Nor I. (Coming off the table and turning reproachfully on McComas.) Nor you. DOLLY. And you a solicitor! PHILIP. Finch: Your professional incompetence is appalling. William: your sagacity puts us all to shame. DOLLY You really are like Shakespear, William. WAITER. Not at all, sir. Don't mention it, miss. Most happy, I'm sure, sir. (Goes back modestly to the luncheon table and lays the two additional covers, one at the end next the steps, and the other so as to make a third on the side furthest from the balustrade.) PHILIP (abruptly). Finch: come and wash your hands. (Seizes his arm and leads him toward the hotel.) McCOMAS. I am thoroughly vexed and hurt, Mr. Clandon-- PHILIP (interrupting him). You will get used to us. Come, Dolly. (McComas shakes him off and marches into the hotel. Philip follows with unruffled composure.) DOLLY (turning for a moment on the steps as she follows them). Keep your wits about you, William. There will be fire-works. WAITER. Right, miss. You may depend on me, miss. (She goes into the hotel.)