The Grandfather. Are all the windows open, Ursula?
The Daughter. The glass door is open, grandfather.
The Grandfather. It seems to me that the cold is penetrating into the room.
The Daughter. There is a little wind in the garden, grandfather, and the rose-leaves are falling.
The Father. Well, shut the door. It is late.
The Daughter. Yes, father.... I cannot shut the door.
The Two Other Daughters. We cannot shut the door.
The Grandfather. Why, what is the matter with the door, my children?
The Uncle. You need not say that in such an extraordinary voice. I will go and help them.
The Eldest Daughter. We cannot manage to shut it quite.