I say it hasn’t a million to one chance of being finished.
Parbury.
What? Who is it?
Mrs. Parbury.
It’s the Saturday Sentinel.
Parbury.
But, my dear, the article is finished. [Rushes to telephone.] [Miss Woodward and Gunning are laughing secretly. Mrs. Parbury stands C., rather confused.] [At telephone.] Hullo! Hullo! Are you there? [Rings violently.] Hullo—oh! is that you, Jackson? . . . what’s the matter? [Rather a long pause. He smiles while listening.] No, no, not at all, my dear chap. What was said was, ‘It’s a million to one you’ll have the copy in half-an-hour’—eh?—yes, those were the very words . . . no, quite a mistake, you don’t listen properly. A messenger has just gone off in a cab with it. What? Yes. [Laughs.] All right! Good-bye!
Mrs. Parbury.
[Seeing Miss Woodward laughing.] I really don’t know what there is to laugh at, Miss Woodward.