Mary. What?
Martin. When Smith told me Rodney tried to touch him—well, I thought the least I could do was to back my son, so I sent Smith to make good with him.
Mary. That was nice of you.
(Rodney enters from door R., with dress-suit case.)
Martin. Well, I owed the boy a chance, anyhow. (Seeing Rodney, turns to him, crossly) So you’re still here, are you?
Rodney. Yes, sir, but I’m going. Come, Mary. (Crosses to Mary)
Martin. Really going into business, eh? Well, when you fail, don’t come sniveling back here! You can’t count on a dollar from me.
Rodney. I won’t snivel—and I don’t want your money. I don’t need it. Why, I’d have gone to work long ago if I’d known how easy it is to raise $10,000.
Martin. (Grinning at Mary) You would, eh? Well, what soft easy-going business have you picked out?
Rodney. The soap business.