BARTHWICK, [With suspicious emphasis.] I welcome any change that
will lead to something better. [He opens a letter.] H'm! This is
that affair of Master Jack's again. "High Street, Oxford. Sir, We
have received Mr. John Barthwick, Senior's, draft for forty pounds!"
Oh! the letter's to him! "We now enclose the cheque you cashed with
us, which, as we stated in our previous letter, was not met on
presentation at your bank. We are, Sir, yours obediently, Moss and
Sons, Tailors." H 'm! [Staring at the cheque.] A pretty business
altogether! The boy might have been prosecuted.
MRS. BARTHWICK. Come, John, you know Jack did n't mean anything; he
only thought he was overdrawing. I still think his bank ought to
have cashed that cheque. They must know your position.
BARTHWICK. [Replacing in the envelope the letter and the cheque.]
Much good that would have done him in a court of law.
[He stops as JACK comes in, fastening his waistcoat and
staunching a razor cut upon his chin.]
JACK. [Sitting down between them, and speaking with an artificial
joviality.] Sorry I 'm late. [He looks lugubriously at the
dishes.] Tea, please, mother.
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