FELLOWS. Getting very new, sir.

HILLCRIST. [Feelingly] You're right. Has Dawker come?

FELLOWS. Not yet, sir. The Jackmans would like to see you, sir.

HILLCRIST. What about?

FELLOWS. I don't know, sir.

HILLCRIST. Well, show them in.

FELLOWS. [Going] Yes, sir.

[HILLCRIST turns his swivel chair round. The JACKMANS come in.
He, a big fellow about fifty, in a labourer's dress, with eyes
which have more in then than his tongue can express; she, a
little woman with a worn face, a bright, quick glance, and a
tongue to match.]

HILLCRIST. Good morning, Mrs. Jackman! Morning, Jackman! Haven't
seen you for a long time. What can I do?

[He draws in foot, and breath, with a sharp hiss.]

HILLCRIST. [In a down-hearted voice] We've had notice to quit,
sir.

HILLCRIST. [With emphasis] What!