Undine monologue — The Black Cat: A Play in Three Acts

(_pouting_) I hate these old sums! Mother's always making me do sums in the holidays. It isn't fair. Seven times three is--what's father reading? (_Rises, and takes up the book._) That's French, I know. Father's always reading French. G.Y.P. Gyp? I wonder what it's about. (_Puts the book down, sits, yawns, and takes up the pencil._) Seven times three is--twenty-one. Put down one and carry two. Oh, but it's pence and shillings. I can't do pence and shillings! (_Throws down the pencil; it falls off the table._) Horrid old things! they're always coming wrong. (_She rises lazily, and stoops to pick up the pencil, then looks round her, stretching her arms and yawning._) I say, what fun to make a libation to Demeter! I will! Let's see. I wish I had mother's Greek dress. I must have one of father's rags. This'll do. (_Drapes herself in a piece of embroidery, runs up stage, jumps on "throne," and poses before the mirror._) It's awfully jolly dressing up. But I have no wine. Oh, I know--I'll take some of father's painting water--though it's rather black-and-whity. (_Takes up the glass, and approaches the statue._) Hail, Demeter! I have no wine for you, but here's some water. (_Makes libation._) I suppose I should pray for something now. Oh, I do wish you'd stop mother persecuting me in the holidays like this! But you can't, you dear old thing. Father says the old gods are dead. I wish they'd come alive again. (_Crosses to table._)