_Mrs. M._ Nearly twelve, and JACK not in yet--on this of all days,
too! VIOLA, you will be weak, _culpably_ weak, if you don't speak to
him, very seriously, when he _does_ come in.

_Mrs. R._ (_ruefully_). I _can't_, Mother. We're not on speaking terms
just now, you know.

_Mrs. M._ Then I _shall_. Fortunately, _I_ am on speaking terms with
him--as he will find out! (_A ring._) There he is, at last! Go, my
poor darling, leave me to bring him to a sense of his disgraceful
conduct. (_Mrs. R. retires by the back drawing-room._) How shall
I begin? Ah, poor JOHN'S phonograph! How lucky _I_ remembered it!
(_Selecting a cylinder._) There, if _anything_ can pierce his hard
heart, _that_ will!

[_Winds up machine, which breaks into a merry marriage peal as JACK
enters in evening dress._

_Jack_ (_sullenly_). Now just look here, VIOLA--(_recognising Mrs.
M._) Hullo, the Mum!

_Mrs. M._ (_raising her voice above the clamour_). Mum no longer, Sir.
Do you hear those bells?

_Jack_. _Do I hear those bells?_ Am I deaf? The whole Parish can hear
them, I should think!

_Mrs. M._ I don't care if they do. I want to touch your conscience, if
I can, and I still hope--bad as you are--that when the voices of those
bells--so long silent--rung in anticipation of such a very different