Ernest. We’re two to one, Letty says the ball was out.

Colonel.  Letty’s your wife, she’d say anything.

Ernest. Well, look here, Colonel, I’ll show you the very place it pitched.

Colonel.  Gammon!  You’ve lost your temper, you don’t know what you’re talking about.

Ernest. [coolly.] I suppose you’ll admit the rule that one umpires one’s own court.

Colonel. [Hotly.] Certainly not, in this case!

Miss beech. [From behind the hollow tree.] Special case!

Ernest. [Moving chin in collar—­very coolly.] Well, of course if you won’t play the game!

Colonel. [In a towering passion.] If you lose your temper like this, I ’ll never play with you again.

     [To Letty, a pretty soul in a linen suit, approaching through
     the wall.]

Do you mean to say that ball was out, Letty?

Letty.  Of course it was, Father.

Colonel.  You say that because he’s your husband. [He sits on the rustic seat.] If your mother’d been there she’d have backed me up!

Letty.  Mother wants Joy, Dick, about her frock.

Dick.  I—­I don’t know where she is.

Miss beech. [From behind the hollow tree.] Ahem!

Letty.  What’s the matter, Peachey?

Miss beech.  Swallowed a fly.  Poor creature!

Ernest. [Returning to his point.] Why I know the ball was out,
Colonel, was because it pitched in a line with that arbutus tree.

Colonel. [Rising.] Arbutus tree! [To his daughter.] Where’s your mother?

Letty.  In the blue room, Father.

Ernest. The ball was a good foot out; at the height it was coming when it passed me.

Colonel. [Staring at him.] You’re a—­you’re aa theorist!  From where you were you could n’t see the ball at all. [To Letty.] Where’s your mother?

Letty. [Emphatically.] In the blue room, Father!

     [The colonel glares confusedly, and goes away towards the blue
     room.]

Ernest. [In the swing, and with a smile.] Your old Dad’ll never be a sportsman!

Letty. [Indignantly.] I wish you wouldn’t call Father old, Ernie!  What time’s Molly coming, Peachey?

     [Rose has come from the house, and stands waiting for a chance
     to speak.]

Ernest. [Breaking in.] Your old Dad’s only got one fault:  he can’t take an impersonal view of things.

Miss beech.  Can you find me any one who can?

Ernest. [With a smile.] Well, Peachey!

Miss beech. [Ironically.] Oh! of course, there’s you!

Ernest. I don’t know about that!  But——­