[Patting The Dean’s cheeks.] You’re putting on too much flesh, Augustin; they should give you a ten-miler daily in a blanket.
The Dean.
[With dignity.] My dear sister!
Georgiana.
Are these your two-year-olds? [To Salome.] Kiss your Aunt! [She kisses Salome with a good hearty smack.] [To Sheba.] Kiss your Aunt! [She embraces Sheba, then stands between the two girls and surveys them critically, touching them alternately with the end of her cane.] Lord bless you both! What names do you run under?
Salome.
I—I am Salome.
Sheba.
I am Sheba.
Georgiana.