KEN.  Well, I might as well tell you I haven’t got my share of the rent, either.

TIPPY.  What’s the matter?  Check late?

KEN.  No.—­I sent it back.

TIPPY.  You what?

KEN.  I sent it back.

KATE.  Did your father lose his job?

KEN.  Bishops don’t lose their jobs.

TIPPY.  So what are you talking about?

KEN.  I’ve been living off dad for five years.

TIPPY.  Starving off him.

KEN.  Don’t blame dad.  I set the amount under Hoover.  Bishops aren’t economists.

TIPPY.  You sent the check back and asked for a new deal?

KEN.  No.

TIPPY. [Patiently.] Why did you send the check back?

KEN.  I’m through letting dad pay me for piddling around here.

TIPPY.  But Ken, be reasonable.  The landlord must eat.

KEN.  Then give him back this place.  He can eat the cockroaches.

TIPPY.  No tickee, no shirtee; no money, no housee. [Pause.] And there’s the little matter of our own nutrition.

KEN.  I don’t expect you and Martin to feed me.

TIPPY.  I doubt if we could.

KEN.  Martin’s right, Tippy.  You ought to clear out of here and take that place you wanted.

TIPPY.  Hell, that place has been taken.  Bargains like that don’t wait.

KEN.  There are other places.  But you won’t get one as long as you stay here and we graft off of you.  You’ve been buying half the grub for the four of us.  You fudge the bills against yourself.  You’re a goddam fool.

TIPPY.  Must you bring that up?

KEN.  Listen, Tippy.  Martin can take care of himself, anywhere.  He loves flop houses and flop people.

TIPPY.  And what about Ted?

KEN.  Ted is Kate’s problem.

KATE.  Why do you feel so bitter toward him?

KEN. [Savagely.] If you’ll recall, we only took him in temporarily because your mother was coming.

[Angrily, to TIPPY.] Why the hell do you have to plan for Ted?  Or Martin?  Or me?  I’m not planning for anyone.—­I’m clearing out.

TIPPY.  Where are you going?

KEN.  That’s my affair.  I’m packing tonight and leaving tomorrow. [He goes into bedroom.]

KATE.  Lord, what a mess!

TIPPY.  Katie, I’m afraid our children are showing too much spirit.

KATE.  What’s Ken planning?  Going on Laura?

TIPPY.  Lord, no.

KATE.  I’d hardly think so with all that bluff at independence! [Pause.]

TIPPY.  How much did you girls, as seniors, put down as your expectation of earning power in five years?

KATE.  We didn’t do such sordid things at Vassar.  And besides, it’s been six years, not five.

TIPPY.  Class of ’29.  Six years, and six of us.  Well, we’ve stuck together.  In solidarity there is strength.

KATE.  This looks like a bust up.