Alick [sharply].  James!  I remember you, my lady.

Maggie.  Sit down, father.  This is the study.

[James wanders round it inquisitively until called to order.]

Sybil.  You must be tired after your long journey.

David [drawing the portraits of himself and partners in one lightning sketch].  Tired, your ladyship?  We sat on cushioned seats the whole way.

James [looking about him for the chair you sit on].  Every seat in this room is cushioned.

Maggie.  You may say all my life is cushioned now, James, by this dear man of mine.

[She gives john’s shoulder a loving pressure, which Sybil feels is a telegraphic communication to herself in a cypher that she cannot read.  Alick and the brothers bask in the evidence of MAGGIE’s happiness.]

John [uncomfortably].  And is Elizabeth hearty, James?

James [looking down his nose in the manner proper to young husbands when addressed about their wives].  She’s very well, I thank you kindly.

Maggie.  James is a married man now, Lady Sybil.

[Sybil murmurs her congratulations.]

James.  I thank you kindly. [Courageously] Yes, I’m married. [He looks at David and Alick to see if they are smiling; and they are.] It wasn’t a case of being catched; it was entirely of my own free will. [He looks again; and the mean fellows are smiling still.] Is your ladyship married?

Sybil.  Alas! no.

David.  James! [Politely.] You will be yet, my lady.

[Sybil indicates that he is kind indeed.]

John.  Perhaps they would like you to show them their rooms, Maggie?

David.  Fine would we like to see all the house as well as the sleeping accommodation.  But first—­[He gives his father the look with which chairmen call on the next speaker.]

Alick.  I take you, David. [He produces a paper parcel from a roomy pocket.] It wasn’t likely, Mr. Shand, that we should forget the day.

John.  The day?

David.  The second anniversary of your marriage.  We came purposely for the day.

James [his fingers itching to take the parcel from his father].  It’s a lace shawl, Maggie, from the three of us, a pure Tobermory; you would never dare wear it if you knew the cost.

[The shawl in its beauty is revealed, and Maggie hails it with little cries of joy.  She rushes at the donors and kisses each of them just as if she were a pretty woman.  They are much pleased and give expression to their pleasure in a not very dissimilar manner.]

Alick.  Havers.

David.  Havers.

James.  Havers.

John.  It’s a very fine shawl.

[He should not have spoken, for he has set James’s volatile mind working.]