Annys. Mrs. Chinn!
Mrs. Chinn. (She has risen; she curtseys.) Good evening, ma’am.
Annys. (She is taking off her hat.) Nothing wrong, is there?
Mrs. Chinn. My boy, ma’am, my youngest, has been getting into trouble.
Annys. (She pauses, her hat in her hand.) They will, won’t they? It’s nothing serious, I hope?
Mrs. Chinn. I think it will be all right, ma’am, thanks to your good gentleman.
Annys. (She lays aside her hat.) You have had a good many children, haven’t you, Mrs. Chinn?
Mrs. Chinn. Ten altogether, ma’am; six living.
Annys. Can one love ten, all at once?
(The cloak has fallen aside. Mrs. Chinn is a much experienced lady.)