Warner
I'll see you down-stairs, doctor. (Exit.)
Philo (turning to Mrs. W.)
And you, mother?
Mrs. W. (bustling up and gathering tray and glasses)
I've got to set my bread. (Crosses to machine and stares at it, holding tray.) What'll we come to if folks in the stars begin pesterin'? We've got enough to 'tend to right here. (Goes out muttering.) Got to set my bread.
(Seymour and Philo look at each other and smile.)
Seymour
Won't you come down, Philo?