Jane. (Relenting.) Gracious! Bobby, did he bite you?
Bobby. Did he?
Jane. (Seizing bottle from table.) Heavens! You must put something on it! Some antiseptic! Bobby come here!
Bobby. Oh, no, no! No, it’s not serious!
Jane. Come here this instant!
Bobby. (Flatly.) I won’t do it!
(He succeeds so well in working upon her sympathies that even a knock at Aunt Sophy’s door is not enough to make her change her attitude. She now as obstinately refuses to let him descend to certain death as previously he had refused to do it. The knocks are continued. Jane is rapidly losing her head when it suddenly occurs to her that if she stores Bobby away under the bed until Towser has departed or Aunt Sophy has gone to sleep, all may yet be well. While Bobby is ensconcing himself in this new position a three cornered conversation takes place, in which Jane becomes more and more involved.)
Aunt Sophy. (Outside.) Jane, Jane, are you ill?
Jane. Ill? Oh, oh! I don’t know!
Aunt Sophy. Open the door this minute or I’ll break it down!