This was rank mutiny. Mrs. Porter stared haughtily at Kirk. He met her gaze with determination. 

 “As you please,” she snapped. 

 “Thank you,” said Kirk. “I don’t want to take any risks with George. I couldn’t afford to lose him. There aren’t any more like him: they’ve mislaid the pattern.” 

 He went to the telephone. 

 Mrs. Porter watched him narrowly. She was more than ever impressed by the perfection of his physique. She appraised his voice as he spoke to the doctor. It gave evidence of excellent lungs. He was a wonderfully perfect physical specimen. 

 An idea concerning this young man came into her mind, startling as all great ideas are at birth. The older it grew, the more she approved of it. She decided to put a few questions to him. She had a habit of questioning people, and it never occurred to her that they might resent it. If it had occurred to her, she would have done it just the same. She was like that. 

 “Mr. Winfield?” 

 “Yes?” 

 “I should like to ask you a few questions.” 

 This woman delighted Kirk. 

 “Please do,” he said. 

 Mrs. Porter scanned him closely. 

 “You are an extraordinarily healthy man, to all appearances. Have you ever suffered from bad health?” 

 “Measles.” 

 “Immaterial.” 

 “Very unpleasant, though.” 

 “Nothing else?” 

 “Mumps.” 

 “Unimportant.” 

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