[Nods saucily.] The hornpipe and the Highland fling, hey?
Bos.
Hahaha! Saucy black eye. [To Clementine.] Come, let me have a look.
Clem.
[Petulantly.] No, you don’t understand it, anyway.
Bos.
Oh, thanks!—You educate a daughter. Have her take drawing lessons, but must not ask to see—come! Don’t be so childish!
Clem.
[With spoiled petulance.] No. When it is finished.
Bos.