estion of your self-respect; I can't give you any real advice. But
just remember that if you want a friend----

ROSE. [With a gulp] I'm not so 'ard, really. I only want him to do
what's right by me.

LADY CHESHIRE. [With a little lift of her eyebrow--gently] Yes,
yes--I see.

ROSE. [Glancing back at the door] I don't like meeting the servants.

LADY CHESHIRE. Come along, I'll take you out another way. [As they
reach the door, DOT comes in.]

DOT. [With a glance at ROSE] Can we have this room for the mouldy
rehearsal, Mother?

LADY CHESHIRE. Yes, dear, you can air it here.

Holding the door open for ROSE she follows her out. And DOT,
with a book of "Caste" in her hand, arranges the room according
to a diagram.

DOT. Chair--chair--table--chair--Dash! Table--piano--fire--window!
[Producing a pocket comb] Comb for Eccles. Cradle?--Cradle--[She
viciously dumps a waste-paper basket down, and drops a footstool into
it] Brat! [Then reading from the book gloomily] "Enter Eccles
breathless. Esther and Polly rise-Esther puts on lid of bandbox."
Bandbox!

Searching for something to represent a bandbox, she opens the
workroom door.

DOT. Freda?

FREDA comes in.

DOT. I say, Freda. Anything the matter? You seem awfully down.
[FREDA does not answer.]

DOT. You haven't looked anything of a lollipop lately.

FREDA. I'm quite all right, thank you, Miss Dot.

DOT. Has Mother been givin' you a tonic?

FREDA. [Smiling a little] Not yet.

DOT. That doesn't account for it then. [With a sudden warm impulse]
What is it, Freda?

FREDA. Nothing.

DOT. [Switching of on a different line of thought] Are you very busy
this morning?

FREDA. Only this cloak for my lady.

DOT. Oh! that can wait. I may have to get you in to prompt, if I
can't keep 'em straight. [Gloomily] They stray so. Would you mind?

FREDA. [Stolidly] I shall be very glad, Miss Dot.

DOT. [Eyeing her dubiously] All right. Let's see--what did I want?

JOAN has come in.

JOAN. Look here, Dot; about the baby in this scene. I'm sure I
ought to make more of it.

DOT. Romantic little beast! [She plucks the footstool out by one
ear, and holds it forth] Let's see you try!

JOAN. [Recoiling] But, Dot, what are we really going to have for
the baby? I can't rehearse with that thing. Can't you suggest
something, Freda?

FREDA. Borrow a real one, Miss Joan. There are some that don