JACK (sitting down and picking up the pencil). Oh, but—Iris, you’ll have to stand for Ajax. Imagine Dad’s the lightning and defy him like the dickens. (Beginning to draw) Right foot out a bit more. Hands [85]behind the back, I think. Keep the head well up—as though you thought nothing of him.
IRIS. Daddy Broxopp, I defy you. (She gives a glance at JACK to make sure he is not looking, blows a hasty kiss to BROXOPP, and hastily resumes her defiant attitude.)
JACK (drawing). You’d find yourself much safer with a model, Mother, even for a rough sketch. You get so much more life into it.
NANCY. Oh, Jack, I wish I could draw like that.
IRIS. He isn’t bad, is he?
JACK (still at it). Keep your head up.... I can’t draw—but when I say I can’t draw, I don’t mean the same as when I say I can’t paint. You see—Listen!
(A loud knocking is heard at the outer door.)
IRIS (nodding her head at BROXOPP). That’s you, Daddy Broxopp. You did the lightning so well that you’ve brought on the thunder.
NANCY. Oh, I’d better go. The maid’s out.
JACK (getting up). No, you don’t; I’ll go. It’s Dad’s lady friend—I’ll bet you what you like—come to see his tie. Perhaps I can buy her off on the mat.