P.—I won't, then! (Gives her mother a thump.) There!
Mrs. S.—She's so unexpected, isn't she? (To Petsy.) If you won't say the poem to Mrs. Roberts, you will play the violin to her, won't you?
Mrs. R.—(Horrified.) The violin!
Mrs. S.—Yes, she does show such talent! You'll be quite surprised.
Mrs. R.—(Aside.) Yes, I shall be quite surprised if she does.
Mrs. S.—Of course, it's a little squeaky at times—but, after all, she's such a child, it's a wonder she plays at all.
Mrs. R.—It is indeed. (Aside.) Especially to visitors who don't want to hear her. (Aloud.) I am sorry I can't stay to-day, I just came to see about that hall.
Mrs. S.—Ah, to be sure, the hall, yes—we've settled nothing. Do stay and have tea with us.
Mrs. R.—Tea…. I am afraid it is rather late.
Mrs. S.—Oh, do stay, we shall be so snug, just we three—for Petsy always comes in. There she sits in her high chair, and keeps me alive with her prattle.