MR MARCH wriggles, half hearing.
JOHNNY. [Muttering] Shallow idiots! Thinking we can do without chivalry!
MRS MARCH. I'm doing my best to get a parlourmaid, to-day, Mary, but these breakfast things won't clear themselves.
MARY. I'll clear them, Mother.
MRS MARCH. Good! [She gets up. At the door] Knitting silk.
She goes out.
JOHNNY. Mother hasn't an ounce of idealism. You might make her see stars, but never in the singular.
MR MARCH. [To his paper] If God doesn't open the earth soon—
MARY. Is there anything special, Dad?
MR MARCH. This sulphurous government. [He drops the paper] Give me a match, Mary.