he way.)

MARGARET (critical, as an artist's daughter should be.) The moon
is rather pale to-night, isn't she?

DEARTH. Comes of keeping late hours.

MARGARET (showing off). Daddy, watch me, look at me. Please, sweet
moon, a pleasant expression. No, no, not as if you were sitting or
it; that is too professional. That is better; thank you. Now keep it.
That is the sort of thing you say to them, Dad.

DEARTH (quickly at work). I oughtn't to have brought you out so late;
you should be tucked up in your cosy bed at home.

MARGARET (pursuing a squirrel that isn't there). With the pillow
anyhow.

DEARTH. Except in its proper place.

MARGARET (wetting the other foot). And the sheet over my face.

DEARTH. Where it oughtn't to be.

MARGARET (more or less upside down). And Daddy tiptoeing in to take it off.

DEARTH. Which is more than you deserve.

MARGARET (in a tree). Then why does he stand so long at the door? And
before he has gone she bursts out laughing, for she has been awake
all the time.

DEARTH. That's about it. What a life! But I oughtn't to have brought
you here. Best to have the sheet over you when the moon is about;
moonlight is bad for little daughters.

MARGARET (pelting him with nuts). I can't sleep when the moon's at the
full; she keeps calling to me to get up. Perhaps I am _her_ daughter
too.

DEARTH. Gad, you look it to-night.

MARGARET. Do I? Then can't you paint me into the picture as well as
Mamma? You could call it 'A Mother and Daughter' or simply 'Two
ladies.' if the moon thinks that calling me her daughter would make
her seem too old.

DEARTH. O matre pulchra filia pulchrior. That means, 'O Moon--more
beautiful than any twopenny-halfpenny daughter.'

MARGARET (emerging in an unexpected place). Daddy, do you really
prefer her?

DEARTH. 'Sh! She's not a patch on you; it's the sort of thing we say
to our sitters to keep them in good humour. (He surveys ruefully a
great stain on her frock.) I wish to heaven, Margaret, we were not
both so fond of apple-tart. And what's this? (Catching hold of her
skirt.)

MARGARET (unnecessarily). It's a tear.

DEARTH. I should think it is a tear.

MARGARET. That boy at the farm did it. He kept calling Snubs after me,
but I got him down and kicked him in the stomach. He is rather a
jolly boy.

DEARTH. He sounds it. Ye Gods, what a night!

MARGARET (considering the picture). And what a moon! Dad, she is not
quite so fine as that.

DEARTH.