MASSEY. Tea? MAGGIE. Yes, Daddy. MASSEY. In here? There's no room. MAGGIE. It's cosey. I'll bring yours to the sofa. MASSEY. Where am I to put it?--on the floor? MAGGIE. I'll bring up a table for you if you must have one. You wouldn't do for a Society gentleman. Can't you balance a cup on your knee? MASSEY. I don't mean to try. Hope you haven't got out those finnicky little cups. I want my own. MAGGIE. I've got your own--here. [_She holds up a very big breakfast cup, plain white with gilt band._] MASSEY. I didn't hear you come in, Lil. Where's Charley? LILY. Coming on. MASSEY. What've you done with Foster, Mag? MAGGIE. He's not coming. _MAGGIE takes tea round._ MASSEY. Gone away for the week end? MAGGIE. [_taking a cup for herself and sitting down beside LILY._] Oh, no! He's not coming. That's all. Lily and I are grass widows. It's a very nice feeling. MASSEY. It's all right about you, but Lil looks a bit off. You've got a cold. Your eyes are red. LILY. Yes, father. MRS. M. You've dropped some bread and butter on the carpet, Alfred. MASSEY. [_irritably._] Of course I have! I knew I should. MAGGIE. [_running to pick it up._] Percy hasn't come back with Sybil yet, Dad. We expect they're sitting in the Park. MASSEY. [_his attention taken from his grievance._] What, in this weather? MAGGIE. The seats will be dry and they sit close together, you know. I've often seen them do it. MASSEY. [_chuckling._] You have, have you? And what about yourself? What about yourself? You! Lord! what a nest of turtle doves it is--nothing but billing and cooing! MAGGIE. Especially Percy. MASSEY. P'raps so. He's young at it. Well, he'll be the next, I suppose. And you, too, Mag? MAGGIE. I'm in no hurry. MRS. M. [_a little impatiently to MAGGIE._] Don't talk like that, my dear. MASSEY. Of course she says she isn't. She's a modest young woman--I never heard _you_ say you were in a hurry, my dear. MRS. M. Of course I shouldn't--to you. MASSEY. Ha, ha! You put on the shy business then. Lord! these women. [_MAGGIE moves towards table._] Come, now, Mag, confess! You think of it sometimes. MAGGIE. I think of it a lot. MASSEY. There you are! There you are! What did I say? MAGGIE. And what do you think I think about it? MASSEY. How should I know. Wedding, I suppose. I bet you never think of anything else after the wedding day. MAGGIE. [_slowly._] I think of the wedding dress, and the bridesmaids, and the pages. Shall I have pages, Mum? MRS. M. Maggie! MAGGIE. I suppose I shan't. I think of the house I'm going to have, Daddy--and the furniture, and I'm going to have a cat and a dog-- MASSEY. [_slyly._] Nothing else, of course. Just a cat and a dog. Ha, ha! MRS. M. Alfred, don't suggest. It isn't nice. MASSEY. A cat and dog--ha, ha, ha! MAGGIE. Don't laugh, Daddy. I'm telling you the solemn truth--I think most of all that I shall never, never, never have to go into a shop again. MASSEY. I wish old Foster could hear you. MAGGIE. Why?