JOAN. Look here, Dot; about the baby in this scene. I'm sure I
ought to make more of it.

DOT. Romantic little beast! [She plucks the footstool out by one
ear, and holds it forth] Let's see you try!

JOAN. [Recoiling] But, Dot, what are we really going to have for
the baby? I can't rehearse with that thing. Can't you suggest
something, Freda?

FREDA. Borrow a real one, Miss Joan. There are some that don't
count much.

JOAN. Freda, how horrible!

DOT. [Dropping the footstool back into the basket] You'll just put
up with what you're given.

Then as CHRISTINE and MABEL LANFARNE Come in, FREDA turns
abruptly and goes out.

DOT. Buck up! Where are Bill and Harold? [To JOAN] Go and find
them, mouse-cat.

But BILL and HAROLD, followed by LATTER, are already in the
doorway. They come in, and LATTER, stumbling over the
waste-paper basket, takes it up to improve its position.

DOT. Drop that cradle, John! [As he picks the footstool out of it]
Leave the baby in! Now then! Bill, you enter there! [She points to
the workroom door where BILL and MABEL range themselves close to the
piano; while HAROLD goes to the window] John! get off the stage!
Now then, "Eccles enters breathless, Esther and Polly rise." Wait a
minute. I know now. [She opens the workroom door] Freda, I wanted a
bandbox.

HAROLD. [Cheerfully] I hate beginning to rehearse, you know, you
feel such a fool.

DOT. [With her bandbox-gloomily] You'll feel more of a fool when you
have begun. [To BILL, who is staring into the workroom] Shut the
door. Now. [BILL shuts the door.]

LATTER. [Advancing] Look here! I want to clear up a point of
psychology before we start.

DOT. Good Lord!

LATTER. When I bring in the milk--ought I to bring it in seriously--
as if I were accustomed--I mean, I maintain that if I'm----

JOAN. Oh! John, but I don't think it's meant that you should----

DOT. Shut up! Go back, John! Blow the milk! Begin, begin, begin!
Bill!

LATTER. [Turning round and again advancing] But I think you
underrate the importance of my entrance altogether.

MABEL. Oh! no, Mr. Latter!

LATTER. I don't in the least want to destroy the balance of the
scene, but I do want to be clear about the spirit. What is the
spirit?

DOT. [With gloom] Rollicking!

LATTER. Well, I don't think so. We shall run a great risk, with
this play, if we rollick.

DOT. Shall we? Now look here--