The Orderly rushes in.

The orderly.  Look ere, sir:  Mrs. Banger locked the door of General Sandstone’s room on the inside; and shes sitting on his ead until he signs a proclamation for women to serve in the army.

Mitchener.  Put your shoulder to the door and burst it open.

The orderly.  Its only in story books that doors burst open as easy as that.  Besides, Im only too thankful to have a locked door between me and Mrs. B.; and so is all the rest of us.

Mitchener.  Cowards.  Balsquith:  to the rescue! (He dashes out.)

Balsquith (ambling calmly to the hearth).  This is the business of the Sergeant at Arms rather than of the leader of the House.  Theres no use in my tackling Mrs. Banger:  she would only sit on my head too.

The orderly.  You take my tip, Mr. Balsquith.  Give the women the vote and give the army civil rights; and av done with it.

Mitchener returns.

Mitchener.  Balsquith:  prepare to hear the worst.

Balsquith.  Sandstone is no more?

Mitchener.  On the contrary, he is particularly lively.  He has softened Mrs. Banger by a proposal of marriage in which he appears to be perfectly in earnest.  He says he has met his ideal at last, a really soldierly woman.  She will sit on his head for the rest of his life; and the British Army is now to all intents and purposes commanded by Mrs. Banger.  When I remonstrated with Sandstone she positively shouted “Right-about-face.  March” at me in the most offensive tone.  If she hadnt been a woman I should have punched her head.  I precious nearly punched Sandstone’s.  The horrors of martial law administered by Mrs. Banger are too terrible to be faced.  I demand civil rights for the army.

The orderly (chuckling).  Wot oh, General!  Wot oh!

Mitchener.  Hold your tongue. (He goes to the door and calls.) Mrs. Farrell! (Returning, and again addressing the Orderly.) Civil rights don’t mean the right to be uncivil. (Pleased with his own wit.) Almost a pun.  Ha ha!

Mrs. Farrell.  Whats the matther now? (She comes to the table.)

Mitchener (to the Orderly).  I have private business with Mrs.
Farrell.  Outside, you infernal blackguard.

The orderly (arguing, as usual).  Well, I didnt ask to—­ (Mitchener seizes him by the nape; rushes him out; and slams the door).

Mitchener.  Excuse the abruptness of this communication, Mrs. Farrell; but I know only one woman in the country whose practical ability and force of character can maintain her husband in competition with the husband of Mrs. Banger.  I have the honor to propose for your hand.

Mrs. Farrell.  Dye mean you want to marry me?

Mitchener.  I do.

Mrs. Farrell.  No thank you.  Id have to work for you just the same; only I shouldnt get any wages for it.