Katherine.  I expect they will, Olive.

Olive.  Then we shall have to be extra nice to him.

Katherine.  If we can.

Olive.  I can; I feel like it.

     Helen and Hubert have returned along the terrace.  Seeing
     Katherine and the child, Helen passes on, but Hubert comes in at
     the French window.

Olive. [Catching sight of him-softly] Is Uncle Hubert going to the front to-day? [Katherine nods] But not grandfather?

Katherine.  No, dear.

Olive.  That’s lucky for them, isn’t it?

     Hubert comes in.  The presence of the child give him self-control.

Hubert.  Well, old girl, it’s good-bye. [To Olive] What shall I bring you back, chick?

Olive.  Are there shops at the front?  I thought it was dangerous.

Hubert.  Not a bit.

Olive. [Disillusioned] Oh!

Katherine.  Now, darling, give Uncle a good hug.

     [Under cover of OLIVE’s hug, Katherine repairs her courage.]

Katherine.  The Dad and I’ll be with you all in spirit.  Good-bye, old boy!

     They do not dare to kiss, and Hubert goes out very stiff and
     straight, in the doorway passing steel, of whom he takes no
     notice.  Steel hesitates, and would go away.

Katherine.  Come in, Mr. Steel.

Steel.  The deputation from Toulmin ought to be here, Mrs. More. 
It’s twelve.

Olive. [Having made a little ball of newspaper-slyly] Mr. Steel, catch!

     [She throws, and steel catches it in silence.]

Katherine.  Go upstairs, won’t you, darling?

Olive.  Mayn’t I read in the window, Mummy?  Then I shall see if any soldiers pass.

Katherine.  No.  You can go out on the terrace a little, and then you must go up.

     [Olive goes reluctantly out on to the terrace.]

Steel.  Awful news this morning of that Pass!  And have you seen these? [Reading from the newspaper] “We will have no truck with the jargon of the degenerate who vilifies his country at such a moment.  The Member for Toulmin has earned for himself the contempt of all virile patriots.” [He takes up a second journal] “There is a certain type of public man who, even at his own expense, cannot resist the itch to advertise himself.  We would, at moments of national crisis, muzzle such persons, as we muzzle dogs that we suspect of incipient rabies . . . .”  They’re in full cry after him!

Katherine.  I mind much more all the creatures who are always flinging mud at the country making him their hero suddenly!  You know what’s in his mind?