Olivia (rising and looking about her). Brian, find my scissors for me. (Sits again.)
Brian (rising and crossing to C.). Scissors. Sir Brian Strange, R.A., looks for scissors.
(Brian, clasping his hands behind his back, with a very important walk, looks first on the top end of piano, then on writing-table at back. Dinah playfully follows him round, imitating his walk. Brian crosses to cabinet up L. and finds the scissors on top, takes them up and in a threatening attitude turns to Dinah, exclaiming, "Ha, ha!" Dinah with a little playful scream backs to chair below writing-table, and sits. Holding up scissors.)
Once more we must record an unqualified success for the eminent Academician. (Turning to Olivia and with a bow hands them over the back of settee to her.) Your scissors.
Olivia. Thank you so much.
Dinah. Come on, Brian, let's go out. I feel open-airy.
(They go up R.)
Olivia. Don't be late for lunch, there's good people. Lady Marden is coming.
Dinah. Aunt Juli-ah! Help! (She faints in Brian's arms.) That means a clean pinafore. Brian, you'll jolly well have to brush your hair.
Brian (feeling it). I suppose there's no time now to go up to London and get it cut?