BLY. [Ignoring him] I don't want any fuss with your two cooks.
[Catching sight of MRS MARCH] I've prepared myself for this.
MRS MARCH. So we see.
BLY. I 'ad a bit o' trouble, but I kep' on till I see 'Aigel walkin' at me in the loo-lookin' glass. Then I knew I'd got me balance.
They all regard MR BLY in a fascinated manner.
FAITH. Father! You've been drinking.
BLY. [Smiling] What do you think.
MR MARCH. We have a certain sympathy with you, Mr Bly.
BLY. [Gazing at his daughter] I don't want that one. I'll take the other.
MARY. Don't repeat yourself, Mr Bly.
BLY. [With a flash of muddled insight] Well! There's two of everybody; two of my daughter; an' two of the 'Ome Secretary; and two-two of Cook —an' I don't want either. [He waves COOK aside, and grasps at a void alongside FAITH] Come along!