Celia: Anything that is worth doing is worth
doing well. (To Rock.) Look now at the marks
of your boots upon the ground. Get up out of
that till I'll bustle it with the broom!
Rock: (Getting up.) There is a change indeed
and a queer change. Where she used to be singing
she is screeching the same as a slate where you'd
be casting sums!
Celia: (To Flannery.) What's that I see in
under your chair? Rise up. (He gets up.) It's
a pin! (Sticks it in her dress.) Everything in its
right place! (Goes on flicking at the furniture.)
Mother: Leave now knocking the furniture to
flitters.
Celia: I will not, till I'll free it from the dust
and dander of the year.
Mother: That'll do now. I see no dust.
Celia: You'll see it presently. (Sweeps up a cloud.)
Mother: Let you speak to her, Conan.
Conan: Leave now buzzing and banging about
the room the same as a fly without a head!
Celia: Never put off till to-morrow what you
can do to-day.