PETER. William? Why should you worry over William? I am looking after him.
I don't understand—
MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Seeing that she has gone too far.] I only meant—it's too bad he had such an M—
PETER. An M—?
MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [In pantomime—mouthing the word so that WILLIAM cannot hear.] Mother … Annamarie.
PETER. Oh! …
MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. She ought to have told you or Mr. Batholommey who the
F— was.
PETER. F—?
MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [In pantomime—as before.] Father.
PETER. Oh… [Spelling out the word.] S-c-o-u-n-d-r-e-l—whoever he is! [Calls.] William. [WILLIAM looks up from his book.] You're very contented here with me, are you not?
WILLIAM. Yes, sir.