MRS. MORLAND. Down at the boat-house with Simon, I think.
MR. MORLAND. That is all right. Let her play about with Simon and the like. It may make a tomboy of her, but it will keep young men out of her head.
(She wonders at his obtuseness.)
MRS. MORLAND. You still think of Simon as a boy?
MR. MORLAND. Bless the woman, he is only a midshipman.
MRS. MORLAND. A sub-lieutenant now.
MR. MORLAND. Same thing. Why, Fanny, I still tip him. At least I did a year ago. And he liked it: ‘Thanks no end, you are a trump,’ he said, and then slipped behind the screen to see how much it was.
MRS. MORLAND. He is a very delightful creature; but he isn’t a boy any more.
MR. MORLAND. It’s not nice of you to put such ideas into my head. I’ll go down to the boat-house at once. If this new invention was in working order, Fanny, I could send him packing without rising from my seat. I should simply say from this sofa, ‘Is my little Mary Rose there?’
(To their surprise there is an answer from MARY ROSE unseen.)