MRS. METHERELL (drily). His room's upstairs.
ELSIE. I'm going to see that it's right.
MRS. METHERELL. His room's my job.
ELSIE. Yes, yes. I know. But I must make sure. Don't you realize he's gone on playing with a broken arm?
MRS. METHERELL. He was always a fool. But he's not so soft as to take to his bed for a damaged arm.
ELSIE (wildly). Anything may have happened. Complications. Fever. I'm going to his room. Which is it, please?
MRS. METHERELL (guarding the door). You're not going. Elsie. I am. Please don't be stupid, Mrs. Metherell. Edmund. Elsie!
MRS. METHERELL. Do you think I'll have a girl I've never set eyes on before ferreting round my house?
ELSIE. But—oh, you tell her, uncle. (Darts past Mrs. Metherell and exit.)
MRS. METHERELL (calling after her). Here, you come back. Cheek!