Mrs March.  You will have four pounds, and you can get another place.

Faith.  How?

Mrs March.  That’s hardly my affair.

Faith. [Tossing her head] All right!

Mrs March.  I’ll speak to your father, if he isn’t gone.

Faith.  Why do you send me away—­just for a kiss!  What’s a kiss?

Mrs March.  That will do.

Faith. [Desperately] He wanted to—­to save me.

Mrs March.  You know perfectly well people can only save themselves.

Faith.  I don’t care for your son; I’ve got a young—­[She checks herself]
I—­I’ll leave your son alone, if he leaves me.

     Mrs March rings the bell on the table.

[Desolately] Well? [She moves towards the door.  Suddenly holding out the flower] Mr March gave me that flower; would you like it back?

Mrs March.  Don’t be absurd!  If you want more money till you get a place, let me know.

Faith.  I won’t trouble you.

     She goes out.

     Mrs March goes to the window and drums her fingers on the pane.

     Cook enters.

Mrs March.  Cook, if Mr Bly’s still here, I want to see him.  Oh!  And it’s three now.  Have a cab at four o’clock.

Cook. [Almost tearful] Oh, ma’am—­anybody but Master Johnny, and I’d ‘ave been a deaf an’ dummy.  Poor girl!  She’s not responsive, I daresay.  Suppose I was to speak to Master Johnny?

Mrs March.  No, no, Cook!  Where’s Mr Bly?

Cook.  He’s done his windows; he’s just waiting for his money.

Mrs March.  Then get him; and take that tray.

Cook.  I remember the master kissin’ me, when he was a boy.  But then he never meant anything; so different from Master Johnny.  Master Johnny takes things to ’eart.

Mrs March.  Just so, Cook.

Cook.  There’s not an ounce of vice in ’im.  It’s all his goodness, dear little feller.

Mrs March.  That’s the danger, with a girl like that.

Cook.  It’s eatin’ hearty all of a sudden that’s made her poptious.  But there, ma’am, try her again.  Master Johnny’ll be so cut up!

Mrs March.  No playing with fire, Cook.  We were foolish to let her come.

Cook.  Oh! dear, he will be angry with me.  If you hadn’t been in the kitchen and heard me, ma’am, I’d ha’ let it pass.

Mrs March.  That would have been very wrong of you.

Cook.  Ah!  But I’d do a lot of wrong things for Master Johnny.  There’s always some one you’ll go wrong for!

Mrs March.  Well, get Mr Bly; and take that tray, there’s a good soul.