CRAMPTON. Yes, dear, yes. (He sits down in token of submission.)

DOLLY (following him insistently). Do you like it?

CRAMPTON. My child: how can you expect me to like it or to approve
of it?

DOLLY (determined not to let him off). How can you think it pretty
and not like it?

McCOMAS (rising, angry and scandalized). Really I must say---
(Bohun, who has listened to Dolly with the highest approval, is down on
him instantly.)

BOHUN. No: don't interrupt, McComas. The young lady's method is
right. (To Dolly, with tremendous emphasis.) Press your questions,
Miss Clandon: press your questions.

DOLLY (rising). Oh, dear, you are a regular overwhelmer! Do you
always go on like this?

BOHUN (rising). Yes. Don't you try to put me out of countenance,
young lady: you're too young to do it. (He takes McComas's chair from
beside Mrs. Clandon's and sets it beside his own.) Sit down. (Dolly,
fascinated, obeys; and Bohun sits down again. McComas, robbed of his
seat, takes a chair on the other side between the table and the
ottoman.) Now, Mr. Crampton, the facts are before you---both of them.
You think you'd like to have your two youngest children to live with
you. Well, you wouldn't--- (Crampton tries to protest; but Bohun will
not have it on any terms.) No, you wouldn't: you think you would; but