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.
Denham.
Here comes mother!
Undine.
Oh, bother these horrid old sums! (_Flops into chair._)
(_Enter Mrs. Denham, with flowers. She comes to the cabinet to place
them in a vase, and sees the water spilt._)
Mrs. Denham.
What's all this mess? What have you been doing, miss? (_Crosses to
Undine._)
Undine.
(_rising and standing before her_) Please, mother, I only made a
libation.
Mrs. Denham.
You naughty, _wicked_ girl! Oh, this wicked, _wicked_ waste of time!
Undine.
(_whimpering_) But, mother, I only--
Mrs.
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