GERALD. A quarter to nine, father.
MR. BARLOW. Not late yet. I can sit with you another half-hour. I am feeling better to-day. Winifred, sing something for us.
WINIFRED. Something jolly, father?
MR. BARLOW. Very jolly, darling.
WINIFRED. I'll sing "The Lincolnshire Poacher," shall I?
MR. BARLOW. Do, darling, and we'll all join in the chorus.—Will you join in the chorus, Miss Wrath?
ANABEL. I will. It is a good song.
MR. BARLOW. Yes, isn't it!
WINIFRED. All dance for the chorus, as well as singing.
(They sing; some pirouette a little for the chorus.)