Janet.  There isn’t going to be any cab—­nor luggage—­rousing the whole street! (Carve goes to window.) For goodness’ sake don’t draw those curtains—­with the gas flaring up!

Carve.  Why not?

Janet. (Conspiratorial.) Supposing there’s some journalist on the watch outside!

Carve.  I wanted to look at the weather.

Janet.  Well, go to the front door, and mind you open it quietly.

     (Exit carve, R.)

     (Janet pours water on tea.)

     (Exit, L.)

     (Re-enter carve quickly.)

Carve.  I say, here’s a curate pushed himself in at the front door!

     (Re-enter Janet, L.)

Janet.  No, he’s come in at the back.

Carve.  But I tell you he’s here!

     (Enter James Shawn, L. Then enter John Shawn, R. Pause.)

James.  Now let me entreat everybody to remain perfectly calm.

Janet.  Oh, don’t worry about that.  Nothing startles us now.  A few curates more or less....

Carve. (Sinking into chair.) I suppose this is the very newest journalism.  Would you mind me asking a question?

James.  What is it?

     (Janet makes the tea.)

Carve.  Why did you wait till the door was opened?  Seems a pity to stand on ceremony.  Why not have broken a window or so and climbed right in?

James.  John, is mother there?

John. (At door, R.) Mother, how often shall I have to ask you to keep close to me?

     (Enter Mrs. Shawn, R.)

Mrs. S. I’m all of a tremble.

John. (Firmly.) Come now, you mustn’t give way.  This is he (pointing to carve).  Do you recognise him as our father? (Janet, who is cutting a slice of bread, stops and looks from one to the other.)

Mrs. S. (To carve.) Albert, don’t you know me?  To think that next Tuesday it’ll be six and twenty years since you walked out o’ the house casual like and—­and—­(Stops from emotion.)

Carve.  Go on.  Go on....  To think that I was once shy!

Janet. (To Mrs. Shawn.) Here, you’d better come and sit a bit nearer the fire. (Very kindly.) Come along now!

Mrs. S. (Obeying.) Thank you, m’m.

Janet. (To John.) And which of you boys was it that had the idea of keeping a middle-aged woman perishing on a doorstep before daylight in February?

John.  How else could we—­

James. (Interrupting him.) Excuse me, John.

John. (Subsiding.) I beg your pardon, James.

James. (To Janet.) All questions should be addressed to me.  My brother John is here solely to take charge of our mother.  We have done our best, by careful forethought, to ensure that this painful interview shall be as brief and as dignified as possible.