Hilda. Well, I won't.
Jamie [gleefully]. There, didn't I tell you you would?
Hilda. Well, I won't again.
Jamie. Oh, you won't, eh?
Hilda. [No answer.]
Jamie. So that's it, is it?
Hilda. [Still no answer.]
Jamie [shrugging his shoulders]. Oh, very well; just as you like! [How fortunate for the sympathetic man in the moon that he's not here to see. Now, the eastern sky shows a tinge of pale gray, shading into light violet. Here and there a bird lifts its voice; the notes are taken up and passed along as sentries pass the call for the corporal of the guard. From afar comes the jangle of metal, and the bell of an early milkman clangs. A sleepy girl issues from the back door of the two-story house across the street. A canvas-covered wagon drawn by two horses lumbers past.]
Hilda [rising and indicating the basket with dignity]. Hug!