MARY. Waiting, and house work.
MR MARCH. Exactly.
FAITH. I'm very quick. I—I'd like to come. [She looks down] I don't care for what I'm doing now. It makes you feel your position.
MARY. Aren't they nice to you?
FAITH. Oh! yes—kind; but— [She looks up] it's against my instincts.
MR MARCH. Oh! [Quizzically] You've got a disciple, Mr Bly.
BLY. [Rolling his eyes at his daughter] Ah! but you mustn't 'ave instincts here, you know. You've got a chance, and you must come to stay, and do yourself credit.
FAITH. [Adapting her face] Yes, I know, I'm very lucky.
MR MARCH. [Deprecating thanks and moral precept] That's all right! Only, Mr Bly, I can't absolutely answer for Mrs March. She may think—
MARY. There is Mother; I heard the door.