HAVERTON (looking up suddenly).
                                        Given notice?
Who? Helen? Given notice? Bless my soul!
  (A pause.)
I never thought that she would give us notice.
  (Ponders and frowns.)

  MRS. HAVERTON: Well, but she has, and now the question is,
What shall we do to find another cook?
Servants are very difficult to get. (Sighs.)
Especially to come into the country
To such a place as this. (Sighs.) No wonder, either!
Oh! Mercy! When one comes to think of it,
One cannot blame them. (Sighs.) Heaven only knows
I try to do my duty! (Sighs profoundly.)

  REV. A. HAVERTON (uneasily): Well, my dear,
I cannot make preferment.

(Front door-bell rings.)

FIDO: Bow! wow! wow!

  REV. A. HAVERTON (patting him to soothe him):
    There, Fido, there!

FIDO: Wow! wow!

REV. A. HAVERTON: Good dog, there!

  FIDO: Wow,
    Wow, wow!

REV. A. HAVERTON (very nervous): There!

FIDO: Wow! wow!

REV. A. HAVERTON (in an agony): Good dog!

  FIDO: Bow! wow! wow!
    Wow, wow! Wow!! WOW!!!

  MRS. HAVERTON (very excited): Oh, Lord, he'll
    wake the children!

  REV. A. HAVERTON (exploding): How often have
    I told you, Dorothy,
Not to exclaim "Good Lord!"… Apart from manners—
Which have their own importance—blasphemy
(And I regard the phrase as blasphemous)
Cannot—

  MRS. HAVERTON (uneasily): Oh, very well!…
    Oh, very well!
      (Exploding in her turn.)
Upon my soul, you are intolerable!
      (She jumps up and makes for the door. Before she gets to
        it there is a knock and MATILDA enters.)

  MATILDA: Please, m'm, it's only Mrs. Cobley's daughter
To say the washing shall be sent to-morrow,
And would you check the list again and see,
Because she thinks she never had two collars
Of what you sent, but only five, because
You marked it seven; and Mrs. Cobley says
There must be some mistake.

REV. A. HAVERTON (pompously): I will attend to it.

  MRS. HAVERTON (whispering angrily): How can
    you, Archibald! You haven't got
The ghost of an idea about the washing!
Sit down. (He does so.) (To Matilda) Send the
    Girl in here.

MRS. HAVERTON sits down in a fume.

REV. A. HAVERTON: I think….

  MRS. HAVERTON (snapping): I don't care what you think!
      (Groans.) Oh, dear!
I'm nearly off my head!

Enter MISS COBLEY.