_]
TIPPY. How much did you girls, as seniors, put down as your
expectation of earning power in five years?
KATE. We didn't do such sordid things at Vassar. And besides, it's
been six years, not five.
TIPPY. Class of '29. Six years, and six of us. Well, we've stuck
together. In solidarity there is strength.
KATE. This looks like a bust up.
TIPPY. Look here, Kate, you'll take care of Ted, won't you?
KATE. Why should I?
TIPPY. [_Snappily._] As an investment. Business is picking up.
Stocks are going up. Culture is coming back. More dogs are being
washed. Rare books will come next.
KATE. So what?
TIPPY. Ted was born a gentleman. The rest of us merely went to
Harvard.
KATE. Believe it or not.
TIPPY. Katie, the coming revolution is poppycock. What's coming is
the same damn thing we used to have. And when it gets back it'll
take its old darlings back into its lap. Ted is one of them. So
hold his hand a little longer.
[_There is a hanging against the door with a foot._ TIPPY _opens
door, and_ LAURA _enters with a tall sack of groceries, which she
shoves into_ TIPPY'S _arms._]
LAURA. Hello. Where's the gang?
TIPPY. Some are in and some are out.
KATE. We speak of Fortune and Dame Fortune walks in.
LAURA. Bringing her own tea.
TIPPY. Fortune. Tea. Ceres. Cornucopia. [_Drops bag on arm, posing
as Goddess with the horn of plenty, and spewing groceries over the
table, fruit rolling to floor.
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