Searching for something to represent a bandbox, she opens the workroom door.
DOT. Freda?
FREDA comes in.
DOT. I say, Freda. Anything the matter? You seem awfully down.
[FREDA does not answer.]
DOT. You haven't looked anything of a lollipop lately.
FREDA. I'm quite all right, thank you, Miss Dot.
DOT. Has Mother been givin' you a tonic?
FREDA. [Smiling a little] Not yet.
DOT. That doesn't account for it then. [With a sudden warm impulse]
What is it, Freda?
FREDA. Nothing.