Farrell here.

THE ORDERLY (calling into the corridor). Mrs. Farrell! (To Balsquith.) This way sir. (He goes out with Balsquith.)

Mrs. Farrell, a lean, highly respectable Irish Charwoman of about 50 comes in.

MITCHENER. Mrs. Farrell: Ive a very important visit to pay: I shall want my full dress uniform and all my medals and orders and my presentation sword. There was a time when the British Army contained men capable of discharging these duties for their commanding officer. Those days are over. The compulsorily enlisted soldier runs to a woman for everything. Im therefore reluctantly obliged to trouble you.

MRS FARRELL. Your meddles n ordhers n the crooked sword with the ivory handle n your full dress uniform is in the waxworks in the Chamber o Military Glory over in the place they used to call the Banquetin Hall. I told you youd be sorry for sendin them away; n you told me to mind me own business. Youre wiser now.

MITCHENER. I am. I had not at that time discovered that you were the only person in the whole military establishment of this capital who could be trusted to remember where anything was, or to understand an order and obey it.

MRS. FARRELL. Its no good flattherin me. Im too old.

MITCHENER. Not at all, Mrs. Farrell. How is your daughter?

MRS. FARRELL. Which daughther.

MITCHENER. The one who has made such a gratifying success in the Music Halls.

MRS. FARRELL. Theres no music halls nowadays: theyre Variety Theatres. Shes got an offer of marriage from a young jook.

MITCHENER. Is it possible? What did you do?

MRS. FARRELL.