Praed. My dear Kitty:  you think I’m offended.  Don’t imagine that:  pray don’t.  But you know I often notice things that escape you; and though you never take my advice, you sometimes admit afterwards that you ought to have taken it.

Mrs Warren.  Well, what do you notice now?

Praed. Only that Vivie is a grown woman.  Pray, Kitty, treat her with every respect.

Mrs Warren [with genuine amazement] Respect!  Treat my own daughter with respect!  What next, pray!

Vivie [appearing at the cottage door and calling to Mrs Warren] Mother:  will you come to my room before tea?

Mrs Warren.  Yes, dearie. [She laughs indulgently at Praed’s gravity, and pats him on the cheek as she passes him on her way to the porch].  Don’t be cross, Praddy. [She follows Vivie into the cottage].

Crofts [furtively] I say, Praed.

Praed. Yes.

Crofts.  I want to ask you a rather particular question.

Praed. Certainly. [He takes Mrs Warren’s chair and sits close to
Crofts].

Crofts.  Thats right:  they might hear us from the window.  Look here:  did
Kitty every tell you who that girl’s father is?

Praed. Never.

Crofts.  Have you any suspicion of who it might be?

Praed. None.

Crofts [not believing him] I know, of course, that you perhaps might feel bound not to tell if she had said anything to you.  But it’s very awkward to be uncertain about it now that we shall be meeting the girl every day.  We don’t exactly know how we ought to feel towards her.

Praed. What difference can that make?  We take her on her own merits. 
What does it matter who her father was?

Crofts [suspiciously] Then you know who he was?

Praed [with a touch of temper] I said no just now.  Did you not hear me?

Crofts.  Look here, Praed.  I ask you as a particular favor.  If you do know [movement of protest from Praed]—­I only say, if you know, you might at least set my mind at rest about her.  The fact is, I fell attracted.

Praed [sternly] What do you mean?

Crofts.  Oh, don’t be alarmed:  it’s quite an innocent feeling.  Thats what puzzles me about it.  Why, for all I know, I might be her father.

Praed. You!  Impossible!

Crofts [catching him up cunningly] You know for certain that I’m not?

Praed. I know nothing about it, I tell you, any more than you.  But really, Crofts—­oh no, it’s out of the question.  Theres not the least resemblance.

Crofts.  As to that, theres no resemblance between her and her mother that I can see.  I suppose she’s not y o u r daughter, is she?

Praed [rising indignantly] Really, Crofts—!