Pickering [shrugging his shoulders] That was all.

Mrs. Higgins [ironically] Quite sure?

Pickering.  Absolutely.  Really, that was all.

Mrs. Higgins.  You didn’t thank her, or pet her, or admire her, or tell her how splendid she’d been.

Higgins [impatiently] But she knew all about that.  We didn’t make speeches to her, if that’s what you mean.

Pickering [conscience stricken] Perhaps we were a little inconsiderate.  Is she very angry?

Mrs. Higgins [returning to her place at the writing-table] Well, I’m afraid she won’t go back to Wimpole Street, especially now that Mr. Doolittle is able to keep up the position you have thrust on her; but she says she is quite willing to meet you on friendly terms and to let bygones be bygones.

Higgins [furious] Is she, by George?  Ho!

Mrs. Higgins.  If you promise to behave yourself, Henry, I’ll ask her to come down.  If not, go home; for you have taken up quite enough of my time.

Higgins.  Oh, all right.  Very well.  Pick:  you behave yourself.  Let us put on our best Sunday manners for this creature that we picked out of the mud. [He flings himself sulkily into the Elizabethan chair].

Doolittle [remonstrating] Now, now, Henry Higgins! have some consideration for my feelings as a middle class man.

Mrs. Higgins.  Remember your promise, Henry. [She presses the bell-button on the writing-table].  Mr. Doolittle:  will you be so good as to step out on the balcony for a moment.  I don’t want Eliza to have the shock of your news until she has made it up with these two gentlemen.  Would you mind?

Doolittle.  As you wish, lady.  Anything to help Henry to keep her off my hands. [He disappears through the window].

The parlor-maid answers the bell.  Pickering sits down in Doolittle’s place.

Mrs. Higgins.  Ask Miss Doolittle to come down, please.

The parlor-maid.  Yes, mam. [She goes out].

Mrs. Higgins.  Now, Henry:  be good.

Higgins.  I am behaving myself perfectly.

Pickering.  He is doing his best, Mrs. Higgins.

A pause.  Higgins throws back his head; stretches out his legs; and begins to whistle.

Mrs. Higgins.  Henry, dearest, you don’t look at all nice in that attitude.

Higgins [pulling himself together] I was not trying to look nice, mother.

Mrs. Higgins.  It doesn’t matter, dear.  I only wanted to make you speak.

Higgins.  Why?

Mrs. Higgins.  Because you can’t speak and whistle at the same time.

Higgins groans.  Another very trying pause.

Higgins [springing up, out of patience] Where the devil is that girl?  Are we to wait here all day?