(_He brandishes his wooden spoon and noisily hits his plate with it_.)

GAFFER TYL
Come, come, a little more quiet.... You're just as ill-behaved as ever; and
you'll break your plate....

TYLTYL (_half-raising himself on his stool_)
I want more, more!... (_He seizes the tureen, drags it toward him and
upsets it and the soup, which trickles over the table and down over their
knees and scalds them. Yells and screams of pain_.)

GRANNY TYL
There!... I told you so!...

GAFFER TYL (_giving TYLTYL a loud box on the ear_)
That's one for you!...

TYLTYL (_staggered for a moment, next puts his hand to his cheek with an
expression of rapture_)
Oh, that's just like the slaps you used to give me when you were alive?...
Grandad, how nice it was and how good it makes one feel!... I must give you
a kiss!...

GAFFER TYL
Very well; there's more where that came from, if you like them....

(_The clock strikes half-past eight_)

TYLTYL (_starting up_)
Half-past eight!... (_He flings down his spoon_.) Mytyl, we've only