Hornblower. [Very angry] Really!  Is that so?  Very well.  Now ye’re goin’ to learn something, an’ it’s time ye did.  D’ye realise that I’m ’very nearly round ye? [He draws a circle slowly in the air] I’m at Uphill, the works are here, here’s Longmeadow, here’s the Centry that I’ve just bought, there’s only the Common left to give ye touch with the world.  Now between you and the Common there’s the high road.

I come out on the high road here to your north, and I shall come out on it there to your west.  When I’ve got me new works up on the Centry, I shall be makin’ a trolley track between the works up to the road at both ends, so any goods will be running right round ye.  How’ll ye like that for a country place?

[For answer Hillcrist, who is angry beyond the power of speech, walks, forgetting to use his stick, up to the French window.  While he stands there, with his back to Hornblower, the door L. is flung open, and Jim enters, preceding Charles, his wife Chloe, and Rolf.  Charles is a goodish-looking, moustached young man of about twenty-eight, with a white rim to the collar of his waistcoat, and spats.  He has his hand behind Chloe’s back, as if to prevent her turning tail.  She is rather a handsome young woman, with dark eyes, full red lips, and a suspicion of powder, a little under-dressed for the country.  Rolf, mho brings up the rear, is about twenty, with an open face and stiffish butter-coloured hair.  Jill runs over to her father at the window.  She has a bottle.]

Jill. [Sotto voce] Look, Dodo, I’ve brought the lot!  Isn’t it a treat, dear Papa?  And here’s the stuff.  Hallo!

[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.