The Title | Page 7

I depend upon her absolutely. First, Miss Starkey
is the rock upon which my official existence is built. She is a serious
and conscientious rock. She is hard and expects me to be hard.
Secondly, Miss Starkey is the cushion between me and the world. She
knows my tender spots, and protects them. Thirdly, Miss Starkey is my

rod--and I kiss it.
MRS. CULVER. Arthur!... (_tries to be agreeable_). But I really am
vexed.
CULVER. Well, I'm only hungry.
Enter Parlourmaid.
PARLOURMAID. Cook's compliments, madam, and dinner will be
twenty minutes late. (Exit.)
(A shocked silence.)
CULVER (_with an exhausted sigh_). And yet I gave that cook one of
my most captivating smiles this morning.
MRS. CULVER (settling Mr. Culver _into a chair_). She's done it
simply because I told her to-night that rationing is definitely coming in.
Her reply was that the kitchen would never stand it, whatever the
Government said. She was quite upset--and so she's gone and done
something to the dinner.
CULVER. Surely rather illogical of her, isn't it? Or have I missed a link
in the chain of reasoning?
MRS. CULVER. I shall give her notice--after dinner.
JOHN. Couldn't you leave it till after the holidays, mother?
HILDEGARDE. And where shall you find another cook, mamma?
MRS. CULVER. The first thing is to get rid of the present one. Then
we shall see.
CULVER. My dear, you talk as if she was a prime minister. Still, it
might be a good plan to sack all the servants before rationing comes in,
and engage deaf-mutes.

MRS. CULVER. Deaf-mutes!
CULVER. Deaf-mutes. Then they wouldn't be worried by the continual
groaning of my hunger, and I shouldn't hear any complaints about
theirs.
MRS. CULVER (to Hildegarde). My pet, you've time to change now.
Do run and change. You're so sombre.
HILDEGARDE. I can't do it in twenty minutes.
MRS. CULVER. Then put a bright shawl on--for papa's sake.
HILDEGARDE. I haven't got a bright shawl.
MRS. CULVER. Then take mine. The one with the pink beads on it.
It's in my wardrobe--right-hand side.
JOHN. That means it'll be on the left-hand side.
(Exit Hildegarde, _back, with a look at Tranto, who opens the door for
her_.)
MRS. CULVER (_with sweet apprehensiveness_). Now Arthur, I'm
afraid after all you have something on your mind.
CULVER. I've got nothing on my stomach, anyway. (Bracing himself.)
Yes, darling, it's true. I have got something on my mind. Within the last
hour I've had a fearful shock--
MRS. CULVER. I knew it!
CULVER. And I need sustaining. I hadn't meant to say anything until
after dinner, but in view of cook's drastic alterations in the time-table I
may as well tell you (_looking round_) at once.
MRS. CULVER. It's something about the Government again.
CULVER. The Government has been in a very serious situation.

MRS. CULVER (_alarmed_). You mean they're going to ask you to
resign?
CULVER. I wish they would!
MRS. CULVER. Arthur! Do please remember the country is at war.
CULVER. Is it? So it is. You see, my pet, I remember such a lot of
things. I remember that my brainy partner is counting khaki trousers in
the Army clothing department. I remember that my other partner ought
to be in a lunatic asylum, but isn't. I remember that my business is
going to the dogs at a muzzle velocity of about five thousand feet a
second. I remember that from mere snobbishness I work for the
Government without a penny of salary, and that my sole reward is to be
insulted and libelled by high-brow novelists who write for the press.
Therefore you ought not to be startled if I secretly yearn to resign.
However, I shall not be asked to resign. I said that the Government had
been in a very serious situation. It was. But it will soon recover.
MRS. CULVER. How soon?
CULVER. On New Year's Day.
JOHN. Then what's the fearful shock, dad?
MRS. CULVER. Yes. Have you heard anything special?
CULVER. No. But I've seen something special. I saw it less than an
hour ago. It was shown to me without the slightest warning, and I admit
it shook me. You can perceive for yourselves that it shook me.
MRS. CULVER. But what?
CULVER. The New Year's Honours List--or rather a few choice
selections from the more sensational parts of it.
Enter Hildegarde.
MRS. CULVER. Arthur, what do you mean? (To Hildegarde, in

despair.) My chick, your father grows more and more puzzling every
day! How well that shawl suits you! You look quite a different girl. But
you've--(arranges the shawl on Hildegarde) I really don't know what
your father has on his mind! I really don't!
JOHN (_impatient of this feminine manifestation_). Oh, dad, go on. Go
on! I want to get at the bottom of