Jane. Of course if you have no father, that settles it. You have often spoken to us of one, just the same.
Jack. So I have. But he's not a real father.
Gloria. What sort of a father is it that's not a real father?
Jack. Oh, mine's adopted.
Jane. You mean that you're an orphan, an adopted son, or something of the sort?
Jack. Yes; father found me; on a Friday.
Jane. Found you? On a Friday?
Gloria (rising). I don't see anything peculiar in the day at all, Jane. It is one of the seven, and to be found in all the best calendars. (Brusquely.) Have you found Kathryn, Jack? (Enter Dill.)
Jack. I think I have. I think she's in the next room. (Edges off C.)
Dill. Pardon the contradiction, sir, but Miss Kathryn is in the Park. Picking convolvulus I think. Convolvulus very sweet today, sir.