QUECKETT.
[Irritably.] I am not your uncle.
PEGGY.
To-night you are. But you needn't be our uncle to-morrow.
QUECKETT.
[Gloomily.] Somebody will have to be my uncle to-morrow. Then I understand there's a lark pudding ordered for half-past nine. I can't allow the account to be sent in to—to—
PEGGY.
To Auntie?
QUECKETT.
Well—to—to Auntie. Who pays for the lark pudding?