[The exclamation is induced by the apprehension that there has been a row.  Hillcrist gives a stiff little bow, remaining where he is in the window.  Jill, stays close to him, staring from one to the other, then blocks him off and engages him in conversation.  Charles has gone up to his father, who has remained maliciously still, where he delivered his last speech.  Chloe and Rolf stand awkwardly waiting between the fireplace and the door.]

Hornblower.  Well, Chearlie?

Charles.  Not got it.

Hornblower.  Not!

Charles.  I’d practically got her to say she’d sell at three thousand five hundred, when that fellow Dawker turned up.

Hornblower.  That bull-terrier of a chap!  Why, he was here a while ago.  Oh—­ho!  So that’s it!

Charles.  I heard him gallop up.  He came straight for the old lady, and got her away.  What he said I don’t know; but she came back looking wiser than an owl; said she’d think it over, thought she had other views.

Hornblower.  Did ye tell her she might have her price?

Charles.  Practically I did.

Hornblower.  Well?

Charles.  She thought it would be fairer to put it up to auction.  There were other enquiries.  Oh!  She’s a leery old bird—­reminds me of one of those pictures of Fate, don’t you know.

Hornblower.  Auction!  Well, if it’s not gone we’ll get it yet. 
That damned little Dawker!  I’ve had a row with Hillcrist.

Charles.  I thought so.

     [They are turning cautiously to look at Hillcrist, when Jill
     steps forward.]

Jill. [Flushed and determined] That’s not a bit sporting of you,
Mr. Hornblower.

     [At her words role comes forward too.]

Hornblower.  Ye should hear both sides before ye say that, missy.

Jill.  There isn’t another side to turning out the Jackmans after you’d promised.

Hornblower.  Oh! dear me, yes.  They don’t matter a row of gingerbread to the schemes I’ve got for betterin’ this neighbourhood.

Jill.  I had been standing up for you; now I won’t.

HOUNBLOWER.  Dear, dear!  What’ll become of me?

Jill.  I won’t say anything about the other thing because I think it’s beneath, dignity to notice it.  But to turn poor people out of their cottages is a shame.

Hornblower.  Hoity me!

Rolf. [Suddenly] You haven’t been doing that, father?

Charles.  Shut up, Rolf!

Hornblower. [Turning on Rolf] Ha!  Here’s a league o’ Youth!  My young whipper-snapper, keep your mouth shut and leave it to your elders to know what’s right.

     [Under the weight of this rejoinder Rolf stands biting his
     lips.  Then he throws his head up.]