Not a baby
FATHER: | What are you going to do this evening, Jill? |
JILL: | I'm going to meet some friends, Dad. |
FATHER: | You mustn't come home late. You must be home at half past ten. |
JILL: | I can't get home so early, Dad! |
JILL: | Can I have the key to the front door, please? |
FATHER: | No, you can't. |
MOTHER: | Jill's eighteen years old, Tom. She's not a baby. Give her the key. She always comes home early. |
FATHER: | Oh, all right! |
FATHER: | Here you are. But you mustn't come home after a quarter past eleven. Do you hear? |
JILL: | Yes, Dad. |
JILL: | Thanks, Mum. |
MOTHER: | That's all right. Goodbye. Enjoy yourself! |
JILL: | We always enjoy ourselves, Mum. Bye-bye. |