Clara. If she was a nice old lady with lots of money and delicate health, I wouldn't mind that position myself.
Ruth. Clara, you seem to take this matter as a supreme joke!
Mrs. Hunter. [With mock humility.] May I speak? [She waits. All turn to her. A moment's, silence.] May I speak?
Ruth. Yes, yes. Go on, Florence; don't you see we're listening?
Mrs. Hunter. I didn't know! I've been so completely ignored in this entire conversation. But there is one thing for the girls—the easiest possible way for them to earn their living—which you don't seem for a moment to have thought of!
[She waits with a smile of coming triumph on her face.
Ruth. Nursing!
Mrs. Hunter. [Disgusted.] No!
Clara. Manicuring?
Mrs. Hunter. Darling!