On his way he whispers to the young waiter) Thick.
PHILIP. Two small Lagers for the children as usual, William; and one
large for this gentleman (indicating Valentine). Large Apollinaris for
Mr. McComas.
WAITER. Yes, sir.
DOLLY. Have a six of Irish in it, Finch?
McCOMAS (scandalized). No--no, thank you.
PHILIP. Number 413 for my mother and Miss Gloria as before; and--
(turning enquiringly to Crampton) Eh?
CRAMPTON (scowling and about to reply offensively). I---
WAITER (striking in mellifluously). All right, sir. We know what
Mr. Crampton likes here, sir. (He goes into the hotel.)
PHILIP (looking gravely at his father). You frequent bars. Bad
habit! (The cook, accompanied by a waiter with a supply of hot plates,
brings in the fish from the kitchen to the service table, and begins
slicing it.)
CRAMPTON. You have learnt your lesson from your mother, I see.
MRS. CLANDON. Phil: will you please remember that your jokes are apt
to irritate people who are not accustomed to us, and that your father is
our guest to-day.
CRAMPTON (bitterly). Yes, a guest at the head of my own table. (The
soup plates are removed.)
DOLLY (sympathetically). Yes: it's embarrassing, isn't it? It's
just as bad for us, you know.
PHILIP. Sh! Dolly: we are both wanting in tact. (To Crampton.
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