‘Whether mine does, Ginevra, I don’t even know. This is a very strange position I am in, awaiting the return from India of parents I have not seen since I was twelve years old. I don’t even know if they will like the house. The rent is what they told me to give, but perhaps my scheme of decoration won’t appeal to them; they may think my housekeeping has been defective, and may not make allowance for my being so new to it.’ Ginevra takes Amy in her arms. ‘My ownest Amy, if they are not both on their knees to you for the noble way in which you have striven to prepare this house for them--’ ‘Darling Ginevra, all I ask is to be allowed to do my duty.’ ‘Listen, then, Amy: your duty is to be able to help your parents in every way when they return. Your mother having been so long in India can know little about Life; how sweet, then, for you to be able to place your knowledge at her feet.’ ‘I had thought of that, dearest.’ ‘Then Amy, it would be simply wrong of us not to go to another theatre to-night. I have three and ninepence, so that if you can scrape together one and threepence--’ ‘Generous girl, it can’t be.’ ‘Why not, Amy?’ The return of Cosmo handling the telegram more pugnaciously than ever provides the answer. ‘Cosmo, show Miss Dunbar the telegram.’ Miss Dunbar reads: ‘Boat arrived Southampton this morning.’ ‘A day earlier than they expected,’ Amy explains. ‘It’s the other bit I am worrying about,’ Cosmo says darkly. The other bit proves to be ‘Hope to reach our pets this afternoon. Kisses from both to all. Deliriously excited. Mummy and Dad.’ Now we see why Cosmo has been in distress. ‘Pets, kisses,’ he cries. ‘What can the telegraph people think.’ ‘Surely,’ Amy says, ‘you want to kiss your mother.’ ‘I’m going to kiss her,’ he replies stoutly. ‘I mean to do it. It’s father I am worrying about; with his “kisses to _both_ from _all_.” All I can say is that, if father comes slobbering over me, I’ll surprise him.’ Here the outer door slams, and the three start to their feet as if Philippi had dawned. To Cosmo the slam sounds uncommonly like a father’s kiss. He immediately begins to rehearse the greeting which is meant to ward off the fatal blow. ‘How are you, father? I’m glad to see you, father; it’s a long journey from India; won’t you sit down?’ Amy is the first to recover. ‘How silly of us,’ she says; ‘it is only nurse with baby.’ Presumably what we hear is a perambulator backing into its stall in the passage. Then nurse is distinctly heard in the adjoining room, and we may gather that this is for the nonce the nursery of the house, though to most occupants it would be the back dining-room. There is a door between the two rooms, and Cosmo, peeping through a chink in it, sounds to his fellow-conspirators the All’s Well. ‘Poor nurse,’ Amy says with a kind sigh, ‘I suppose I had better show her the telegram. She is sure to cry. She looks upon mother as a thief who has come to steal baby from her.’