of himself, anywhere. He
loves flop houses and flop people.

TIPPY. And what about Ted?

KEN. Ted is Kate's problem.

KATE. Why do you feel so bitter toward him?

KEN. [_Savagely._] If you'll recall, we only took him in
temporarily because your mother was coming.

[_Angrily, to_ TIPPY.] Why the hell do you have to plan for Ted? Or
Martin? Or me? I'm not planning for anyone.--I'm clearing out.

TIPPY. Where are you going?

KEN. That's my affair. I'm packing tonight and leaving tomorrow.
[_He goes into bedroom._]

KATE. Lord, what a mess!

TIPPY. Katie, I'm afraid our children are showing too much spirit.

KATE. What's Ken planning? Going on Laura?

TIPPY. Lord, no.

KATE. I'd hardly think so with all that bluff at independence!
[_Pause._]

TIPPY. How much did you girls, as seniors, put down as your
expectation of earning power in five years?

KATE. We didn't do such sordid things at Vassar. And besides, it's
been six years, not five.

TIPPY. Class of '29. Six years, and six of us. Well, we've stuck
together. In solidarity there is strength.

KATE. This looks like a bust up.

TIPPY. Look here, Kate, you'll take care of Ted, won't you?

KATE. Why should I?

TIPPY. [_Snappily._] As an investment. Business is picking up.
Stocks are going up. Culture is coming back. More dogs are being
washed. Rare books will come next.

KATE. So what?

TIPPY. Ted was born a gentleman. The rest of us merely went to
Harvard.

KATE. Believe it or not.

TIPPY. Katie, the coming revolution is poppycock. What's coming is
the same damn thing we used to have. And when it gets back it'll
take its old darlings back into its lap. Ted is one of them. So
hold his hand a little longer.

[_There is a hanging against the door with a foot._ TIPPY _opens
door, and_ LAURA _enters with a tall sack of groceries, which she
shoves into_ TIPPY'S _arms._]

LAURA. Hello. Where's the gang?

TIPPY. Some are in and some are out.

KATE. We speak of Fortune and Dame Fortune walks in.

LAURA. Bringing her own tea.

TIPPY. Fortune. Tea. Ceres. Cornucopia. [_Drops bag on arm, posing
as Goddess with the horn of plenty, and spewing groceries over the
table, fruit rolling to floor._]

KEN. [_Entering from bedroom._] What in ...?

TIPPY. Tea.

KATE. Thank God it wasn't eggs.

LAURA. [_To_ KEN.] Hello, darling.

[TIPPY _retrieves groceries._]

KEN. [_Severely._] What's the idea, Laura?

LAURA. What idea, honey?

KEN. You pro