Lucy. Hold on! I mean to be a clinking parson's wife, but I have my limitations. Church on Sunday—how many times?
Thor. (hesitatingly) Three?
Lucy. Oh, no! Mornings generally, evenings sometimes, afternoons never.
Thor. Never?
Lucy. Never! (Thorsby moves to C.; Lucy rises and follows) Now you're shocked—your face has grown a couple of inches longer. Well, if I'm not orthodox enough for you it's off, and I'll go back to bed again. (moves to go)
Thor. Lucy dear, (catches her arm) in answer to what you said, I shall merely exact one promise.
Lucy. Which is?
Thor. That in all things—and in all seasons—you will do—or not do—whatever you please. Do you promise?
Lucy. (after slight pause. She puts left hand on shoulder) Harry, I do promise; it shall be exactly as you say. Indeed, indeed, I'll keep my word. Now then, fasten my glove, and we'll go and get it over. (he proceeds to fasten her glove, as Caroline enters, carrying a small tray with coffee, bread and butter, etc.; she also carries a large shoe under her arm)