Mrs. Sladder[3]: O, the mice have died, John. The mice have died. O, Ermyntrude's poor mice! And father's great idea! Whatever shall we do?
Sladder: Er? (Almost a groan) Eh? Died have they?
[Sladder ages in his chair. You would say he was beaten. Suddenly he tautens up his muscles and stands up straight with shoulders back and clenched hands.
So they would beat Sladder, would they? They would beat Sladder. No, that has yet to be done. We'll go on, Splurge. The public shall eat Cheezo. It's a bit strong perhaps. We'll tone it down with bad nuts that they use for the other cheeses. We'll advertise it, and they'll eat it. See to it, Splurge. They don't beat Sladder.
Mrs. Sladder: O, I'm so glad. I'm so glad, John.
Hippanthigh (suddenly with clear emphasis): I THINK I DO BELIEVE IN ETERNAL PUNISHMENT.
Sladder: Ah. At last. Well, Ermyntrude, is your cruel old parent's blessing any use to you?
[He places one hand on her shoulder and one on Hippanthigh's.
Mrs. Sladder: Why, Ermyntrude! Well, I never! And to think of all this happening in one day!
[Hippanthigh is completely beaten. Ermyntrude is smiling at him. He puts an arm round her shoulder in dead silence.