Camille.  Look!  If you think I am a designing woman, you are mistook. 
I know when things are too ’ot.  I am not sorry to go.

Maud.  Oh! you are going?

Camille.  Yes, I am going.  How can I stay when there is no lady in the ’ouse?

Maud.  Not even if you’re asked to?

Camille.  Who will ask me?

Maud.  That we shall see.

Camille.  Well, you will see I have an opinion of my own.

Maud.  Oh! yes, you’re clear-headed enough.

Camille.  I am not arguing.  Good-morning!

     Exits up Left.

Maud regards her stolidly as she goes out into the dining-room, then takes up the paper and reads.

Maud.  Horrible!

     Topping re-enters from the hall.

Topping.  I’ve got ’em on the cab, Miss.  I didn’t put your ten bob on yesterday, because the animal finished last.  You cant depend on horses.

Maud. [Touching the newspaper] This is a frightful business, Topping.

Topping.  Ah!  However did it happen, Miss Maud?

Maud. [Tapping the newspaper] It’s all true.  He came after my mother to Miss Athene’s, and I—­I couldn’t stand it.  I did what it says here; and now I’m sorry.  Mother’s dreadfully upset.  You know father as well as anyone, Topping; what do you think he’ll do now?

Topping. [Sucking in his cheeks] Well, you see, Miss, it’s like this:  Up to now Mr Builder’s always had the respect of everybody—­

     Maud moves her head impatiently.

outside his own house, of course.  Well, now he hasn’t got it.  Pishchologically that’s bound to touch him.

Maud.  Of course; but which way?  Will he throw up the sponge, or try and stick it out here?

Topping.  He won’t throw up the sponge, Miss; more likely to squeeze it down the back of their necks.

Maud.  He’ll be asked to resign, of course.

     The newspaper boy’s voice is heard again approaching:  “First
     edition!  Great sensation!  Local magistrate before the Bench! 
     Pay-per!”

Oh, dear!  I wish I hadn’t!  But I couldn’t see mother being—­

Topping.  Don’t you fret, Miss; he’ll come through.  His jaw’s above his brow, as you might say.

Maud.  What?

Topping. [Nodding] Phreenology, Miss.  I rather follow that.  When the jaw’s big and the brow is small, it’s a sign of character.  I always think the master might have been a Scotchman, except for his fishionomy.

Maud.  A Scotsman?

Topping.  So down on anything soft, Miss.  Haven’t you noticed whenever one of these ’Umanitarians writes to the papers, there’s always a Scotchman after him next morning.  Seems to be a fact of ’uman nature, like introducin’ rabbits into a new country and then weasels to get rid of ’em.  And then something to keep down the weasels.  But I never can see what could keep down a Scotchman!  You seem to reach the hapex there!