NANCY: Can’t fool the old astronomer, can I?

NANCY heads for the street door and BARNEY takes an exuberant farewell.

BARNEY: Goin’ to hit the high spots, Emma. Don’t wait up for us. It’s open slather all the way, and batten down the hatches.

He follows NANCY through the open street door to where she is standing on the front verandah, and slips an arm around her.

[With mock tenderness] Fanny by Gaslight.

NANCY: You know what? Some day I’m going to meet a feller who not only knows the look of it, but who’s read the book as well.

She points a finger, pistol fashion, at his head and fires, using her thumb as the firing pin. BARNEY responds with a barking laugh of protest, and draws away a little uncertainly, as OLIVE and BUBBA come downstairs, on a wave of gaiety and inconsequential chatter. OLIVE is dressed in her best and wearing the silver fox cape.

OLIVE: Must have known that you were coming back—I been goin’ through your Queensland bits and pieces—

She takes BUBBA to view the boxes as evidence, EMMA in her armchair an unregarded witness.

Roo said what I ought to do was put ’em up round here, to keep ’em safe and sound—

BUBBA: Would you?—Golly, that’d be great. And I can always see them then, when I come in and out—

OLIVE: [hugging her] Whatever you want. As long as you keep coming in—and now, you got to see us off.

She leads BUBBA to the street door.

BUBBA: Oh, yes. Dressed up in your cape, and everything—looks beautiful, Ol.

OLIVE: Soon know. Once the world gets an eyeful. [An announcement] Look at this, folks—

NANCY and BARNEY on the verandah turn to look at her as OLIVE shows off the silver fox cape.

—whaddya think?

NANCY issues a wry judgment:

NANCY: Move over, Mrs Patterson.

OLIVE collapses into laughter, to be joined by NANCY, an echo of the mad mirth of their earlier days.

Come on—

She links her arm with OLIVE, to lead her off towards the street.

—we’ll stand at the front gate. Give the old biddies somethin’ to click their tongues and shake their heads at.

BARNEY follows them off with a wolf whistle and BUBBA remains on the front verandah, watching after them with warm appreciation.

Within the house, ROO descends the stairs, carrying his hat. He moves into the living room. His concern is with EMMA, leaning back in her armchair with closed eyes.

ROO: [a last try] This Bromige bloke—only got to say the word, y’know.

EMMA opens her eyes to look at him, in itself a refusal, and he makes a fumbling attempt at a consolation:

Well—’least, you’ve still got this place.

EMMA: Tuppenny ha’penny boarders? After Kiewa Valley? [She shakes her head, a dismissal.] You take that lot off somewhere, and enjoy yourselves.