DICK—[His pose crumbling—angrily.] Go to the devil!
SHEFFIELD—[With a calm, judicious air.] This wrangling is getting us nowhere. You say she was resentful about our well-meant word to the wise? JAYSON—[Testily.] Surely she must realize that some consideration is due the position she occupies in Bridgetown as Curt's wife.
LILY—Martha is properly unimpressed by big frogs in tiny puddles. And there you are.
MRS. DAVIDSON—[Outraged.] The idea! She takes a lot upon herself—the daughter of a Wild Western coal-miner.
LILY—[Mockingly.] Gold miner, Aunt.
MRS. DAVIDSON—It makes no difference—a common miner! SHEFFIELD— [Keenly inquisitive.] Just before the others came, Lily, you gave out some hints—very definite hints, I should say—
ESTHER—[Excitedly.] Yes, you did, Lily. What did you mean?
LILY—[Uncertainly.] Perhaps I shouldn't have. It's not my secret. [Enjoying herself immensely now that she holds the spotlight—after a pause, in a stage whisper.] Shall I tell you? Yes, I can't help telling. Well, Martha is going to have a son. [They are all stunned and flabbergasted and stare at her speechlessly.]
MRS. DAVIDSON—[Her face lighting up—joyously.] A son! Curt's son!
JAYSON—[Pleased by the idea but bewildered.] A son?