HILDEGARDE. She'll be here in a moment. She's fussing round dad.
JOHN. Is he really ill?
HILDEGARDE. Well of course. It came on in the night, after he'd had time to think things over. Why?
JOHN. I read in some paper about the Prime Minister having only a political chill. So I thought perhaps the pater—under the circs—
HILDEGARDE ( shaking her head ). You can't have political dyspepsia. Can't fake the symptoms. Who is to begin this affair, you or me?
JOHN. Depends. What line are you going on with her?
HILDEGARDE. I'm going to treat her exactly as she treats me. I've just thought of it. Only I shan't lose my temper.
JOHN. Sugarsticks?
HILDEGARDE. Yes.
JOHN. You'll never be able to keep it up.