Sylvia. But seriously, Vangy, we are rather worried (Evangeline moves) about mother; she's been looking harassed for days.
Evangeline (sitting in armchair). What about?
Sylvia. Money, money, money! Haven't you realized that! Uncle Daniel sent a pretty substantial cheque from South America (all nod) that helped things on a bit after Father's death, but that must be gone by now—and mother won't say how much father left.
Joyce. Perhaps she doesn't know.
Bobbie. She must know now, he's been dead nearly six months—inconsiderate old beast!
Sylvia. Bobbie, you're not to talk about father like that. I won't have it; after all——
Bobbie. After all what?—He was perfectly rotten to mother, and never came near her for four years before his death. Why should we be charming and reverent about him just because he's our father. When I saw him I hated him, and his treatment of mum hasn't made me like him any better, I can tell you.
Evangeline. But still, Bobbie, he was our father, and mother was fond of him—(Bobbie. Ha!)—once, anyhow there's nothing to be gained by running him down.
Sylvia. The point is, have we enough money to keep on as we are, or haven't we?
Joyce (quickly). The only one who knows is mother, and she won't say.