Daniel (uncomfortably). Last time? Aye? Why?
Mary. Yes. Don't you remember you said you knew of an awfully nice boy that you met, and you were going to bring him down here.
Daniel. Upon my soul, I had clean forgotten. Yes, yes. I think I did say something about a young fellow I met.
Mary. Was he nice, uncle?
Daniel (becoming absorbed in the newspaper). Eh? I think so. Oh. He was—very nice chap.
Mary. Well, you said he was coming here to see me, and he never turned up yet.
Daniel. Did I? Very possibly. I suppose he must have forgotten.
Mary (walking away to the left and then back again pouting). I'm sick of the boys here. There's only Alick McCready that's anyway passable. When will you see him again, uncle?
Daniel. Well—possibly, when I go up to town again. Very soon, perhaps. That is if your father, Mary, can spare the money.
Mary (thoughtfully). I don't know, uncle. You see that would be five times now, and somehow you never seem to get anything done. That's what he said, mind you, uncle.