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