ELIZABETH: (_laughing, with ease_) And scream, I haven't a doubt. But
I've stopped that. One does, doesn't one? And it was you who gave me the
idol.
TOM: Proselytizing, I'm afraid.
ELIZABETH: I beg--? Oh--_yes (laughing cordially_) I _see. (she
doesn't_) I dressed the idol up in my doll's clothes. They fitted
perfectly--the idol was just the size of my doll Ailine. But mother
didn't like the idol that way, and tore the clothes getting them off.
(_to_ HARRY, _after looking around_) Is mother here?
HARRY: (_crossly_) Yes, she's here. Of course she's here. And she must
know you're here, (_after looking in the inner room he goes to the
trap-door and makes a great noise_)
ELIZABETH: Oh--_please_. Really--it doesn't make the least difference.
HARRY: Well, all I can say is, your manners are better than your
mother's.
ELIZABETH: But you see I don't do anything interesting, so I have to
have good manners. (_lightly, but leaving the impression there is a
certain superiority in not doing anything interesting. Turning cordially
to_ DICK) My father was an artist.
DICK: Yes, I know.
ELIZABETH: He was a portrait painter. Do you do portraits?
DICK: Well, not the kind people buy.
ELIZABETH: They bought father's.
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