McCready (laughing). Flour? Aye—she's carrying about three stone of it! Boys, but that would make a powerful pudding!
Mary. It was to have been the nicest one I could have baked.
McCready (coming in and going over to her). Mary.
Mary. What?
McCready. You wouldn't come to my house where there would be no stint of flour or raisins or anything else, and I'd eat all you cooked for me no matter if I was dying after it.
Mary. Go to your house!
Alick. Aye. Look here, wee girl. I got this——(He fumbles and produces a ring.) Let me put that on your wee finger, won't you?
Mary. Oh, Alick, what a lovely wee ring. (She allows him to put it on her finger, and is shyly kissing him when John enters, followed by Kate, who is trying vainly to stop a leak in the bag of flour which she is carrying. Kate goes to the dresser and places the bag on it.)
John (severely to Mary). Mary. Did you send her for more flour?
Mary (meekly). Yes, father.