MRS. BARTHWICK. What? [A silence.] I insist on knowing.
JACK. Oh! nothing.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Nothing? What do you mean by nothing, Jack?
There's your father in such a state about it!
JACK. It's only my purse.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Your purse! You know perfectly well you have n't got one.
JACK. Well, it was somebody else's—it was all a joke—I did n't want the beastly thing.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Do you mean that you had another person's purse, and that this man took it too?
BARTHWICK. Tcha! Of course he took it too! A man like that Jones will make the most of it. It'll get into the papers.
MRS. BARTHWICK. I don't understand. What on earth is all the fuss about? [Bending over JACK, and softly.] Jack now, tell me dear! Don't be afraid. What is it? Come!
JACK. Oh, don't Mother!