He wouldn't let me, ma'am.

I'm not cold, mamma.

I said you were to put it on, didn't I?

But where is the cold?

[Takes a comb from her head and combs his hair back at both sides.] And the sleep is in your eyes still.

He went to bed immediately after you went out last night, ma'am.

You know he's going to let me drive, mamma.

[Replacing the comb in her hair, embraces him suddenly.] O, what a big man to drive a horse!

Well, he's daft on horses, anyhow.

[Releasing himself.] I'll make him go quick. You will see from the window, mamma. With the whip. [He makes the gesture of cracking a whip and shouts at the top of his voice.] Avanti!

Beat the poor horse, is it?