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PDFUndine.
(pouting) It’s very hard to have to do sums in the holidays.
Denham.
(crosses to table behind Undine) You are behind your class, you know. (Looking over her.) Well, seven times three?
Undine.
Let’s see—twenty-one?
Denham.
And how many shillings in that?
Undine.
I suppose two shillings and one penny.
Denham.
Nonsense! Don’t suppose anything so un-English. How many pence in a shilling?
Undine.
Twelve—I suppose.
Denham.
Well, twelve from twenty-one leaves—
(Undine counts on her fingers)
How many?
Undine.
About eight, I think.
Denham.
Try again, stupid!
Undine.
But, father, I think there ought to be ten pence in a shilling.
Denham.
Why ought there, you monkey?
Undine.
Oh, because then, don’t you see, you could count on your fingers all right, but now there are too many pennies for your fingers, and so you never can tell how many are over.
Denham.
Very convenient. But come now, twelve from twenty-one?
Undine.
(counting again) Nine?
Denham.
(resuming his book) All right then. Down with it in the pence column, and get on.
Undine.
(kissing him) Oh, you jolly old father! I should like to do my sums with you always.
Denham.
Heaven forbid! Get on! Get on! (Crosses to chair L.)
(A pause.)
Undine.
Father! Father!
Denham.
H’m!
Undine.
I say, FATHER!
Denham.
Do let me read in peace.
Undine.
But, father—
Denham.
Well?
Undine.
Do the Greeks worship Demeter now?
Denham.
No, not now.
Undine.
The old Greeks were the cleverest people that ever lived, and they had the nicest gods. Don’t you wish there were goddesses now, father? (Rises, and leans against table.)
Denham.
(absently) Yes, of course.
Undine.
Goddesses sometimes fell in love with people, father—didn’t they?
Denham.
People who didn’t happen to be gods? It did occur sometimes, they say.
Undine.
And one might fall in love with you, father. That would be fun!
Denham.
That would be awful. But do stop this chatter, and get on.
Undine.
She’d give me all sorts of jolly things.
(A pause.)
Mrs. Denham (outside the door) In a quarter of an hour will do, Jane.
