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DAN: Isn't it most time for him to come home, Lucy? LUCY: It's hard to tell, Danny, dear; Chris doesn't come home on time anymore. It's half-past twelve, and he ought to be here by the clock, but you can't tell any more--you can't tell. DAN: Where does he go? LUCY: I know where he doesn't go, Dan, but where he does, I can't say. He's not going to Julia's any more lately. I'm afraid, Dan, I'm afraid! DAN: Of what, Little Sister? LUCY: Of everything; oh, Dan, it's too big, too much for me--the world outside, the street--Chris going and coming home nights moody-eyed; I don't understand. DAN: And so you're afraid? That's been the trouble from the beginning of time--we're afraid because we don't understand. LUCY: [coming down front, with a dish cloth in her hand] Oh, Dan, wasn't it