Daniel. I'll do my best to get hold of him.
Mary. No. I want a good definite promise. Promise, uncle.
Daniel. Well, really you know, my dear, he——
Mary. Uncle, promise.
Daniel. Um——well, I promise.
Mary. You're a dear old thing. You see, uncle, I don't want to marry Alick McCready or Jim McDowell or any of those boys, unless there's nobody else.
Daniel. Quite right, my dear, quite right. Two weeks in London. Splendid! But it's time I was going into my workshop. (He rises and takes the paper with him.) I must really try and do something this morning. (Exit by workshop door.)
Mary (calling after him). You won't forget, uncle? Will you?
Daniel. No, certainly not.
Mary. I do hope uncle brings that nice boy. Dark—tall—well set up—well to do.