MRS. HOPE. Well, it's beyond me how you can make pets of worms— wriggling, crawling, horrible things!
[ROSE, who is young and comely, in a pale print frock, comes from the house and places letters before her on a silver salver.]
[Taking the letters.]
What about Miss joy's frock, Rose?
ROSE. Please, 'm, I can't get on with the back without Miss Joy.
MRS. HOPE. Well, then you must just find her. I don't know where she is.
ROSE. [In a slow, sidelong manner.] If you please, Mum, I think
Miss Joy's up in the——
[She stops, seeing Miss BEECH signing to her with both hands.]
MRS. HOPE. [Sharply.] What is it, Peachey?
MISS BEECH. [Selecting a finger.] Pricked meself!