Rodney. But you wanted to do that?
Ellery. I should say not.
Rodney. But I thought you loved work?
Ellery. It’s a preposterous idea—men of intelligence go in for the professions. I paint.
Peale. (Half aside) You look it!
Rodney. I’d heard you were a model son.
Ellery. But I don’t consider it a compliment to be a success in business—think of all the blighters who are.
Peale. Yes, the bally rotters!
Ellery. Father keeps reminding me of your success every day—most irritating. You see, of course he’s sore, because I never bothered much about business. Oh, I have tackled a thing or two. But luck was always against me. It just happened it didn’t work out right. Not my fault, you understand?