PIERRETTE
Yes, Kittikins, we must let father. Father can make such beautiful songs. We must not stand in his way, Kittikins—we love him so.
(She goes to the shelf and gets down a sheet of paper, the ink horn and a quill pen—takes them to the table, sits and writes.)
PIERRETTE
We’ll just write this: “Mother Merle—will—take—Kittikins.—She—loves—her.—Good-bye—Sweetheart.” We’ll leave it here.
(She folds it and lays it on the table. She half goes once more to the crib; but she controls herself. Then, as she goes to the door, she half turns, looks at Pierrot’s chair, and sings softly)—
Love comes in, a-tip-toe, laughing;
Love trails out with leaden feet—
Love that’s here to-day may leave us,
Banished in a windy street.