BELINDA. My darling child! (They kiss each other frantically.)
DELIA. Say you're glad.
BELINDA (sitting up). My darling, I'm absolutely—Hold the hammock while I get out, dear; we don't want an accident. (Getting out with DELIA'S help) They're all right when you're there, and they'll bear two tons, but they're horrid getting in and out of. (Kissing her again) Darling, it really is you?
DELIA. Oh, it is jolly seeing you again. I believe you were asleep.
BELINDA (with dignity). Certainly not, child. I was reading "The Nineteenth Century"—(with an air)—and after. (Earnestly) Darling, wasn't it next Thursday you were coming back?
DELIA. No, this Thursday, silly.
BELINDA (penitently). Oh, my darling, and I was going over to Paris to bring you home.
DELIA. I half expected you.
BELINDA. So confusing their both being called Thursday. And you were leaving school for the very last time. If you don't forgive me, Delia, I shall cry.
DELIA (stroking her hand fondly). Silly mother!