CULVER.  You might ask who isn’t in it. (Taking a paper from his pocket.) Well, Gentletie’s in it.  He gets a knighthood.

TRANTO.  Never heard of him.  Who is he?

HILDEGARDE.  Oh, yes, you’ve heard of him. (John glances at her severely.) He’s M.P. for some earthly paradise or other in the South Riding.

TRANTO.  Oh!

CULVER.  Perhaps I might read you something written by my private secretary—­he’s one of these literary wags.  You see there’s been a demand that the Government should state clearly, in every case of an Honour, exactly what services the Honour is given for.  This (taking paper from his pocket) is supposed to be the stuff sent round to the Press by the Press Bureau. (Reads.) ’Mr. Gentletie has gradually made a solid reputation for himself as the dullest man in the House of Commons.  Whenever he rises to his feet the House empties as if by magic.  In cases of inconvenience, when the Government wishes abruptly to close a debate by counting out the House, it has invariably put up Mr. Gentletie to speak.  The device has never been known to fail.  Nobody can doubt that Mr. Gentletie’s patriotic devotion to the Allied cause well merits the knighthood which is now bestowed on him.’

JOHN (astounded.) Stay me with flagons!

TRANTO.  So that’s that!  And who else?

CULVER.  Another of your esteemed uncles.

TRANTO.  Well, that’s not very startling, seeing that my uncle’s chief daily organ is really a department of the Government.

JOHN.  What I say is—­

HILDEGARDE (simultaneously with John).  Wouldn’t it be more correct—­(continuing alone) wouldn’t it be more correct to say that the Government is really a department of your uncle’s chief daily organ?

JOHN.  Hilda, old girl, I wish you wouldn’t interrupt.  Cookery’s your line.

HILDEGARDE.  Sorry, Johnnie.  I see I was in danger of becoming unsexed.

CULVER (to John).  Yes?  You were about to say?

JOHN.  Oh, nothing.

CULVER (to Tranto).  Shall I read the passage on your uncle?

TRANTO.  Don’t trouble.  Who’s the next?

CULVER.  The next is—­Ullivant, munitions manufacturer.  Let me see. (Reads.) By the simple means of saying that the cost price of shells was eighteen shillings and ninepence each, whereas it was in fact only ten shillings and ninepence, Mr. Joshua Ullivant has made a fortune of two million pounds during the war.  He has given a hundred thousand to the Prince of Wales’s Fund, a hundred thousand to the Red Cross, and a hundred thousand to the party funds.  Total net profit on the war, one million seven hundred thousand pounds, not counting the peerage which is now bestowed upon him, and which it must be admitted is a just reward for his remarkable business acumen.’

TRANTO.  Very agreeable fellow Ullivant is, nevertheless.