PETER. [Showing that he does not want her to carry out his wishes.] No, no, don’t ...  Frederik, I want to speak to you.

[FREDERIK, not glancing in PETER’S direction, lights a cigarette.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY.  Well, Frederik, I hope the old gentleman can see his mistake now.

PETER.  I can see several mistakes. [REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY rises and goes towards the door, pausing in front of PETER to take out his watch.] ...  Mr. Batholommey, I’m glad to see you in my house....  I’m very sorry that you can’t see me.  I wasn’t pleased with my funeral sermon; it was very gloomy—­very.  I never was so depressed in my life.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [To FREDERIK.] Do you know what I should like to say to your uncle?

PETER.  I know.

REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY.  I hope at least you’ll care for the parish poor as your uncle did—­and keep on with some of his charities.

PETER. [Putting his hand on REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY’S shoulder.] That’s all attended to.  I arranged all that with Frederik.  He must look after my charities.

FREDERIK.  I might as well tell you now—­you needn’t look to me.  It’s Uncle Peter’s fault if your charities are cut off.

REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [Half-doubtingly.] It doesn’t seem possible that he made no arrangements to continue his good works. [FREDERIK remains stolid. REV.  MR. BATHOLOMMEY puts back his watch after glancing at it.] Just thirty minutes to make a call. [Goes into the hall to put on his overshoes, coat, &c., leaving PETER’S hand extended in the air.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Rising.] I must be toddling. [Pauses.] It’s queer, Frederik, how things turn out in this world. [He stands, thinking matters over—­cigar in mouth, his hand on his chin.

PETER. [Slipping his hand through COLONEL LAWTON’S arm.  They seem to look each other in the eye.] You were perfectly right about it, Thomas, I should have made a will ...  I—­suppose it is a little too late, isn’t it?...  It would be—­er—­unusual to do it now, wouldn’t it?

COLONEL LAWTON, who has heard nothing—­seen nothing—­moves away as though PETER had never held his arm, and goes up into the hall for his cape and overshoes.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Noticing an old gold-headed walking-stick in the hall.] Oh, er—­what are you going to do with all the old man’s family relics, Frederik?

FREDERIK.  The junk, you mean?  I shall lay it on some scrap-heap, I suppose.  It’s not worth a penny.

COLONEL LAWTON.  I’m not so sure of that.  They say there’s a lot of money paid for this sort of trash.

FREDERIK.  Is that so?  Not a bad idea to have a dealer in to look it over.

PETER stands listening, a faint smile on his face.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY.  If I could have the old clock—­cheap, Frederik, I’d take it off your hands.