MR MARCH wriggles, half hearing.

JOHNNY. [Muttering] Shallow idiots! Thinking we can do without
chivalry!

MRS MARCH. I'm doing my best to get a parlourmaid, to-day, Mary, but
these breakfast things won't clear themselves.

MARY. I'll clear them, Mother.

MRS MARCH. Good! [She gets up. At the door] Knitting silk.

She goes out.

JOHNNY. Mother hasn't an ounce of idealism. You might make her see
stars, but never in the singular.

MR MARCH. [To his paper] If God doesn't open the earth soon--

MARY. Is there anything special, Dad?

MR MARCH. This sulphurous government. [He drops the paper] Give me a
match, Mary.

As soon as the paper is out of his hands he becomes a different--an
affable man.

MARY. [Giving him a match] D'you mind writing in here this morning,
Dad? Your study hasn't been done. There's nobody but Cook.