Harry (_Slowly_). You've been advertising in the papers for your son, I
believe.

Capt. H. (_Off his guard, nervous_). Yes. My only boy Harry. He's coming
home to-morrow. (_Mumbles_.) For a permanent stay.

Harry (_Surprised_). The devil he is! (_Change of tone?_) My word!
You've grown a beard like Father Christmas himself.

Capt. H. (_Impressively_). Go your way. (_Waves one hand loftily?_)
What's that to you. Go your way. (_Agitated?_) Go your way.

Harry. There, there. I am not trespassing in the street--where I
stand--am I? Tell you what, I fancy there's something wrong about your
news. Suppose you let me come in--for a quiet chat, you know.

Capt. H. (_Horrified_). Let you--_you_ come in!

Harry (_Persuasive_). Because I could give you some real information
about your son. The--very--latest--tip. If you care to hear.

Capt. H. (_Explodes_). No! I don't care to hear. (_Begins to pace to
and fro, spade on shoulder. Gesticulating with his other arm_.) Here's
a fellow--a grinning town fellow, who says there's something wrong.
(_Fiercely_.) I have got more information than you're aware of. I have
all the information I want. I have had it for years--for years--for
years--enough to last me till to-morrow! Let you come in, indeed! What
would Harry say?