(_A young girl is seen outside_. HARRY _gets the door open for her and brings_ ELIZABETH _in_.)
HARRY: There's heat here. And two of your mother's friends. Mr Demming--Richard Demming--the artist--and I think you and Mr Edgeworthy are old friends.
(ELIZABETH _comes forward. She is the creditable young American--well built, poised, 'cultivated', so sound an expression of the usual as to be able to meet the world with assurance--assurance which training has made rather graceful. She is about seventeen--and mature. You feel solid things behind her_.)
TOM: I knew you when you were a baby. You used to kick a great deal then.
ELIZABETH: (_laughing, with ease_) And scream, I haven't a doubt. But I've stopped that. One does, doesn't one? And it was you who gave me the idol.
TOM: Proselytizing, I'm afraid.
ELIZABETH: I beg--? Oh--_yes (laughing cordially_) I _see. (she doesn't_) I dressed the idol up in my doll's clothes. They fitted perfectly--the idol was just the size of my doll Ailine. But mother didn't like the idol that way, and tore the clothes getting them off.
(_to_ HARRY, _after looking around_) Is mother here?
HARRY: (_crossly_) Yes, she's here. Of course she's here. And she must know you're here, (_after looking in the inner room he goes to the trap-door and makes a great noise_)
ELIZABETH: Oh--_please_. Really--it doesn't make the least difference.
HARRY: Well, all I can say is, your manners are better than your mother's.
ELIZABETH: But you see I don't do anything interesting, so I have to have good manners. (_lightly, but leaving the impression there is a certain superiority in not doing anything interesting. Turning cordially to_ DICK) My father was an artist.
DICK: Yes, I know.
ELIZABETH: He was a portrait painter. Do you do portraits?
DICK: Well, not the kind people buy.
ELIZABETH: They bought father's.
DICK: Yes, I know he did that kind.
HARRY: (_still irritated_) Why, you don't do portraits.
DICK: I did one of you the other day. You thought it was a milk-can.
ELIZABETH: (_laughing delightedly_) No? Not really? Did you think--How could you think--(_as_ HARRY _does not join the laugh_) Oh, I beg your pardon. I--Does mother grow beautiful roses now?
HARRY: No, she does not.
(_The trap-door begins to move_. CLAIRE's _head appears_.)
ELIZABETH: Mother! It's been so long--(_she tries to overcome the difficulties and embrace her mother_)
CLAIRE: (_protecting a box she has_) Careful, Elizabeth. We mustn't upset the lice.
ELIZABETH: (_retreating_) Lice? (_but quickly equal even to lice_) Oh--yes. You take it--them--off plants, don't you?
CLAIRE: I'm putting them on certain plants.
ELIZABETH: (_weakly_) Oh, I thought you took them off.
CLAIRE: (_calling_) Anthony! (_he comes_) The lice. (_he takes them from her_) (CLAIRE, _who has not fully ascended, looks at_ ELIZABETH, _hesitates, then suddenly starts back down the stairs_.)
HARRY: (_outraged_) Claire! (_slowly she re-ascends--sits on the top step. After a long pause in which he has waited for_ CLAIRE _to open a conversation with her daughter_.) Well, and what have you been doing at school all this time?
ELIZABETH: Oh--studying.
CLAIRE: Studying what?
ELIZABETH: Why--the things one studies, mother.
CLAIRE: Oh! The things one studies. (_looks down cellar again_)
DICK: (_after another wait_) And what have you been doing besides studying?
ELIZABETH: Oh--the things one does. Tennis and skating and dancing and--
CLAIRE: The things one does.
ELIZABETH: Yes. All the things. The--the things one does. Though I haven't been in school these last few months, you know. Miss Lane took us to Europe.
TOM: And how did you like Europe?
ELIZABETH: (_capably_) Oh, I thought it was awfully amusing. All the girls were quite mad about Europe. Of course, I'm glad I'm an American.
CLAIRE: Why?
ELIZABETH: (_laughing_) Why--mother! Of course one is glad one is an American. All the girls--
CLAIRE: (_turning away_) O--h! (_a moan under the breath_)
ELIZABETH: Why, mother--aren't you well?
HARRY: Your mother has been working pretty hard at all this.
ELIZABETH: Oh, I do so want to know all about it? Perhaps I can help you! I think it's just awfully amusing that you're doing something. One does nowadays, doesn't one?--if you know what I mean. It was the war, wasn't it, made it the thing to do something?
DICK: (_slyly_) And you thought, Claire, that the war was lost.
ELIZABETH: The _war? Lost!_ (_her capable laugh_) Fancy our losing a war! Miss Lane says we should give _thanks_. She says we should each do some expressive thing--you know what I mean? And that this is the _keynote_ of the age. Of course, one's own kind of thing. Like mother--growing flowers.
CLAIRE: You think that is one's own kind of thing?
ELIZABETH: Why, of course I do, mother. And so does Miss Lane. All the girls--
CLAIRE: (_shaking her head as if to get something out_) S-hoo.