Carvil seated. Bessie. Captain Hagberd (white beard, sail-cloth jacket).
Bessie (Knitting). You've been out this afternoon for quite a long time, haven't you?
Capt. Hagberd (Eager). Yes, my dear. (Slily) Of course you saw me come back.
Bessie. Oh, yes. I did see you. You had something under your coat.
Capt. H. (Anxiously). It was only a kettle, my dear. A tin water-kettle. I am glad I thought of it just in time. (Winks, nods.) When a husband gets back from his work he needs a lot of water for a wash. See? (Dignified.) Not that Harry'll ever need to do a hand's turn after he comes home... (Falters—casts stealthy glances on all sides).... tomorrow.
Bessie (Looks up, grave). Captain Hagberd, have you ever thought that perhaps your son will not. . .
Capt. H. (Paternally). I've thought of everything, my dear—of everything a reasonable young couple may need for housekeeping. Why, I can hardly turn about in my room up there, the house is that full. (Rubs his hands with satisfaction.) For my son Harry—when he comes home. One day more.
Bessie (Flattering). Oh, you are a great one for bargains. (Captain Hagberd delighted.) But, Captain Hagberd—if—if—you don't know what may happen—if all that home you've got together were to be wasted—for nothing—after all. (Aside.) Oh, I can't bring it out.
Capt. H. (Agitated; flings arms up, stamps feet; stuttering). What? What d'ye mean? What's going to happen to the things?
Bessie (Soothing). Nothing! Nothing! Dust—or moth—you know. Damp, perhaps. You never let anyone into the house . . .