Undine.

Yes, mother.

Mrs. Denham.

That's my nice clean little girl. (_She embraces and kisses her._)
Why does my little girl make mother angry?

Undine.

I don't know.

Mrs. Denham.

Well, kiss father, and go out while it is fine and bright.

Undine.

(_coming behind Denham, and pulling back his head_) Father, I'm
going to bring you some buttercups, to put on your table and make
your work look pretty.

Denham.

Thanks, my wee one. And bring me some sunshine in their cups, like a
good little fairy.

Undine.