CHARLIE. Never mind. That wouldn't matter.
JABEZ. Oh, the boy's mad. This is what comes of debating societies and political meetings for infants. Look here, Charlie, it's one thing to get on your legs and spout revolutionary rot to a roomful of fantastic fools as hare-brained as yourself, but it's a very different pair of steps to come here and ask me to take you seriously. If it wasn't for Rosie, I'd take you at your word and send you packing. As it is, I'll try something else first. John, this is your affair now. You've got to bring this fellow to his senses. (Rises and goes round table to John, r.)
JOHN. I'll try, Jabez, I'll try.
JABEZ. (Threateningly) You'll succeed. (Going up to door r.c.)
JOHN (Looking up at him) What do you mean?
JABEZ. You know as well as I do. I'm sorry, old man, but I've got to put the screw on. You can't expect me to keep my patience for ever if he won't hear reason. You can't blame me. I'll go and join Rosie while you straighten things out a bit between you.
(Exit through door centre. John sinks back into his seat and buries his head in his hands on the table. Charlie goes behind table to him and tries to raise him up.)
CHARLIE (Softly). Dad.
JOHN (slowly removing his hands from his face and raising his eyes to Charlie). You haven't called me that since you were a little boy.
CHARLIE. Dear old dad. I don't want to know what it is. Let him think he's got hold of something. I don't care. .