CAPT. G. Poor little woman! Let me kiss the place and make it
well. (Unrolling bandage.) You small sinner! Where's that scald?
I can't see it.

MRS. G. On the top of the little finger. There!-It's a most
'normous big burn!

CAPT. G. (Kissing little finger.) Baby! Let Hyder look after the
jam. You know I don't care for sweets.

Mas. G. In-deed?-Pip!

CAPT. G. Not of that kind, anyhow. And now run along, Minnie,
and leave me to my own base devices. I'm busy.

MRS. G. (Calmly settling herself in long chair.) So I see. What a
mess you're making! Why have you brought all that smelly leather
stuff into the house?

CAPT. G. To play with. Do you mind, dear?

MRS. G. Let me play too. I'd like it.

CAPT. G. I'm afraid you wouldn't. Pussy- Don't you think that jam
will burn, or whatever it is that jam does when it's not looked after
by a clever little housekeeper?

MRS. G. I thought you said Hyder could attend to it. I left him in
the veranda, stirring-when I hurt myself so.