Joyce (weakly). The top treble thing's a little wobbly, but I'll ink it over afterwards.
(Mrs. Dermott is tidying window seat.)
Bobbie (kissing her hurriedly and loudly). Thanks, you're a lamb. I'll try it now.
Evangeline. Oh! Bobbie, don't try it now!
Bobbie. I shall. (He goes to piano, then turns furiously.) Well, really it is the limit. Why can't Oliver keep his rotten engine in the shed. It will scratch all the polish. (He takes the model off piano and bangs it on to the floor.)
Mrs. Dermott. Oh, Bobbie, don't break that thing. Oliver's so proud of it. I can't think why.
Bobbie. Well, I wish he'd go and be proud of it somewhere else. Look here, three distinct scratches.
Mrs. Dermott. Never mind dear. Griggs will get them out with sandpaper or something.
(Bobbie commences to play over the manuscript Joyce has just copied. Occasionally he stops and alters something with a pencil. No one takes any notice. The dialogue goes on just the same.)
(Coming down to Evangeline.) If you've nearly finished, Vangy dear, do put the typewriter away. It looks so untidy.