Chains: A Play, in Four Acts

by Elizabeth Baker

MRS. M. You’ve dropped some bread and butter on the carpet, Alfred.

MASSEY. [irritably.] Of course I have! I knew I should.

MAGGIE. [running to pick it up.] Percy hasn’t come back with Sybil yet, Dad. We expect they’re sitting in the Park.

MASSEY. [his attention taken from his grievance.] What, in this weather?

MAGGIE. The seats will be dry and they sit close together, you know. I’ve often seen them do it.

MASSEY. [chuckling.] You have, have you? And what about yourself? What about yourself? You! Lord! what a nest of turtle doves it is—nothing but billing and cooing!

MAGGIE. Especially Percy.

MASSEY. P’raps so. He’s young at it. Well, he’ll be the next, I suppose. And you, too, Mag?

MAGGIE. I’m in no hurry.