George, before you leave.
And he an officer now! Sure, I mind him as a baby being wheeled up and
down under the trees out there. My boy Bert was saying only this morning
how we'd missed the sight of him in the shops this summer. You have a
way with the men, Mr. George, of getting into their hearts, like. I was
thinking just now, if Mr. George had only been home, in the shops, maybe
we wouldn't be having all this complaint and trouble.
GEORGE. Who's at the bottom of this, Timothy? Rench? Hillman? I
thought so. Well, they're not bad chaps when you get under their skins.
(He glances at his wrist watch)
Let me go down and talk with them, dad,--I've got time, my train doesn't
leave until one thirty.
ASHER (impatiently, almost savagely). No, I'll settle this, George, this
is my job. I won't have any humoring. Come into my study, Timothy.
TIMOTHY, shaking his head, follows ASHER out of the door, left.
After a moment GEORGE goes over to the extreme left hand corner of
the room, where several articles are piled. He drags out a kit bag,
then some necessary wearing apparel, underclothes, socks, a sweater,
etc., then a large and rather luxurious lunch kit, a pin cushion.
with his monogram, a small travelling pillow with his monogram, a
linen toilet case embroidered in blue, to hang on the wall--these
last evidently presents from admiring lady friends.
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