COOK. Mr Bly, ma'am, come after his daughter.
MR MARCH. He can have her—he can have her!
COOK. Yes, sir. But, you see, he's—Well, there! He's cheerful.
MR MARCH. Let him come and take his daughter away.
But MR BLY has entered behind him. He has a fixed expression, and speaks with a too perfect accuracy.
BLY. Did your two Cooks tell you I'm here?
MR MARCH. If you want your daughter, you can take her.
JOHNNY. Mr Bly, get out!
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.