(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.