I like it.
CHRISTOPHER. Me too--it makes soup!
[_Copying_ TOOTS.
MRS. CARLEY. Your collar's crooked, Chris.
[_Arranging it._
CHRISTOPHER. Ouch!
[_Squirming._
MRS. CARLEY. Phil, shall grandma cut your cake for you?
PHILIP. No, ma'am, Auntie Georgiana's going to cut it.
MRS. CARLEY. Oh, very well. How's your mamma, Elaine? Is she going to
the big ball to-morrow?
ELAINE. Yes, ma'am.
MRS. CARLEY. We feel dreadfully. Philip's mamma's illness prevents our
going.
ELAINE. Mamma said you weren't invited.
MRS. CARLEY. [_Pats_ PHILIP _on the head, to his great disgust and
discomfort._] Your mamma had better mind! Your mamma is mistaken!
Good-by, children, grandma is sorry she can't stay and have a good time
with you. I am going to call, Elaine, on the Countess of Worling, Mrs.
Tom Cooley's daughter. I don't think your mother knows them. Good-by,
dears, enjoy yourselves.
[_She goes out Left._
[_Silence till the door is well shut behind grandma, and then the
children break out with shouts, all of them, of "Good-by, Grandma.
Good-by," repeated ad lib. Then they calm down._
PHILIP. Bully! Grandma's gone!
CHRISTOPHER.
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