(The phone rings: he looks at his watch.)
WHITE. That's for me.
HILDA. Let me. (She goes.) It may be Wallace. (At phone) Yes: this is 116 Chelsea. Long Distance? (He starts as she says to him) It must be our boy. (At phone) Who? Oh—Mr. William White? Yes: he'll be here. (She hangs up receiver.) She'll ring when she gets the connection through.
WHITE (turning away). It takes so long these days.
HILDA. Funny he didn't ask for me.
WHITE. What made you think it was Wallace?
HILDA. I took it for granted. He must be having a hard time at college with all the boys full of war fever.
WHITE. And a father with my record.
HILDA. He should be proud of the example. He has more than other boys to cling to these days when everybody is losing his head as the band plays and the flag is waved. He won't be carried away by it. He'll remember all we taught him. Ah, Will, when I think we now have conscription—as they have in Germany—I thank God every night our boy is too young for the draft.
WHITE. But when his time comes what will he do?