Mother.[Holds out her hand to the DRESSER.] Thank you for your kindly words, Augusta—whatever else I may have been—that—but I was always a tender-hearted mother. I can say that with a clear conscience.
Daughter. Then I suppose it’s no good my asking you if I can go down and have a game of tennis with the others?
Dresser. No, no, young lady. A girl shouldn’t sauce her mamma. And when she won’t oblige those who are nearest and dearest to her, by taking part in their harmless fun, it’s in a manner of speaking adding insult to injury for her to come and ask on top of it, if she can’t go and amuse herself with other people.
Daughter. Yes—yes—yes. I know all that already. I know—I know!
Mother. You’re making yourself disagreeable again. Get something proper to do, and don’t sit slacking there in that fashion. A grown-up girl like you!
Daughter. Then why do you always treat me like a child if I’m grown up?
Mother. Because you behave like one.
Daughter. You have no right to rag me—you yourself wanted me to remain like this.
Mother. Look here, Helen; for some time past I think you’ve been a bit too bloomin’ smart. Come, whom have you been talking to down here?
Daughter. With you two, among others.