Mil. Oh, what does it matter what that grumpy old bear thinks? (goes to L. of sofa, and round behind it)
Bea. (crosses Tom to sofa, L.C., picks up a book and sits almost reclining, her back to Phil. and Kate. Tom goes up C. and remains in doorway) My dear Mildred, Sir Peter Lund is a most able and distinguished man. Having made his fortune as a fashionable physician, he has almost retired from the active pursuit of his profession to devote himself to his innumerable appointments, and to the transactions of all sorts of royal and learned societies, where the clearing of his erudite throat is the signal of the most reverential attention. (Tom signals to Mildred who joins him up C.)
Kate. And well it may be.
Bea. Forgive me, I quite forgot he was a friend of yours.
Phil. And mine as well, my dear. When Sir Peter was an ordinary family practitioner, he brought both Mildred and myself into the world, he attended my father in his last illness, and in spite of the multitude of his engagements, he is good enough to take an interest in us still. What could be kinder than his voluntary proposal to run down here and see me, simply because he had heard casually that I was rather out of sorts?
Kate. Sir Peter is coming here?
Phil. I expect him this morning.
Bea. I can only wonder that in “the multitude of his engagements” he can find the leisure.
Phil. Sir Peter is one of those wonderful men, who get through the work of a dozen, yet never seem to have anything to do.