MARY ROSE (in a voice more quaking than is its wont). I’m here, Daddy.
MR. MORLAND (rising). Where are you, Mary Rose?
MARY ROSE. I am in the apple-tree.
(MRS. MORLAND smiles and is going to the window, but her husband checks her with a further exhibition of the marvel of the future.)
MR. MORLAND. What are you doing in the apple-tree, hoyden?
MARY ROSE. I’m hiding.
MR. MORLAND. From Simon?
MARY ROSE. No; I’m not sure whom I’m hiding from. From myself, I think. Daddy, I’m frightened.
MR. MORLAND. What has frightened you? Simon?
MARY ROSE. Yes—partly.