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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6992-8.txt b/6992-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f21a0aa --- /dev/null +++ b/6992-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3707 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Belinda, by A. A. Milne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Belinda + +Author: A. A. Milne + +Posting Date: October 26, 2012 [EBook #6992] +Release Date: November, 2004 +First Posted: February 20, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BELINDA *** + + + + +Produced by Curtis A. Weyant, Stan Goodman, Charles Franks, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + + + +BELINDA + +An April Folly in Three Acts + +BY + +A. A. MILNE + + + + +CHARACTERS + + + +Produced by Mr. Dion Boucioault at the New Theatre, London, on April 8, +1918, with the following cast:-- + + BELINDA TREMAYNE .......... _Irene Vanbrugh_. + DELIA (her Daughter) ...... _Isabel Elsom_. + HAROLD BAXTER ............. _Dion Boucicault_. + CLAUDE DEVENISH ........... _Dennis Neilson-Terry_. + JOHN TREMAYNE ............. _Ben Webster_. + BETTY ..................... _Anne Walden_. + +The action takes place in Belinda's country-house in Devonshire at the +end of April, the first act in the garden and the second and last acts +in the hall + + + +[Illustration] + + + +BELINDA + + + +ACT I + + +_It is a lovely April afternoon--a foretaste of summer--in_ +BELINDA'S _garden_. + +BETTY, _a middle-aged servant, is fastening a hammock--its first +appearance this year--to a tree down_ L. _In front there is a +garden-table, with a deck-chair on the right of it and a straight-backed +one to the left. There are books, papers, and magazines on the +table_. BELINDA, _of whom we shall know more presently, is on the +other side of the open windows which look on to the garden, talking +to_ BETTY, _who crosses to_ R. _of hammock, securing it to +tree_ C. + +BELINDA (_from inside the house_). Are you sure you're tying it up +tightly enough, Betty? + +BETTY (_coming to front of hammock_). Yes, ma'am; I think it's +firm. + +BELINDA. Because I'm not the fairy I used to be. + +BETTY (_testing hammock_). Yes, ma'am; it's quite firm this end +too. + +BELINDA (_entering from portico with sunshade open_). It's not the +ends I'm frightened of; it's the middle where the weight's coming. +(_Comes down_ R. _and admiring_.) It looks very nice. (_She crosses +at back of wicker table, hanging her hand-bag on hammock. Closes and +places her sunshade at back of tree_ C.) + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA (_trying the middle of it with her hand_). I asked them at +the Stores if they were quite _sure_ it would bear me, and they +said it would take anything up to--I forget how many tons. I know I +thought it was rather rude of them. (_Looking at it anxiously, and +trying to get in, first with her right leg and then her left_.) How +does one get in! So trying to be a sailor! + +BETTY. I think you sit in it, ma'am, and then (_explaining with her +hands_) throw your legs over. + +BELINDA. I see. (_She sits gingerly in the hammock, and then, with a +sudden flutter of white, does what_ BETTY _suggests_.) Yes. +(_Regretfully_.) I'm afraid that was rather wasted on you, Betty. +We must have some spectators next time. + +BETTY. Yea, ma'am + +BELINDA. Cushions. + +(BETTY _moves to and takes a cushion from deck-chair_. BELINDA +_assists her to place it at back of her head_. BETTY _then goes +to back of hammock and arranges_ BELINDA'S _dress_.) + +There! Now then, Betty, about callers. + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. If Mr. Baxter calls--he is the rather prim gentleman-- + +BETTY. Yea, ma'am; the one who's been here several times before. +(_Moves to below and_ L. _of hammock_.) + +BELINDA (_giving_ BETTY _a quick look_). Yes. Well, if he +calls, you'll say, "Not at home." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. He will say (_imitating_ MR. BAXTER), "Oh--er--oh--er-- +really." Then you'll smile very sweetly and say, "I beg your pardon, was +it Mr_. BAXTER_?" And he'll say, "Yes!" and you'll say, "Oh, I beg +your pardon, sir; _this_ way, please." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. That's right, Betty. Well now, if Mr. Devenish calls--he is the +rather poetical gentleman-- + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am; the one who's _always_ coming here. + +BELINDA (_with a pleased smile_). Yes. Well, if he calls you'll +say, "Not at home." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. He'll immediately (_extending her arms descriptively_) +throw down his bunch of flowers and dive despairingly into the moat. +You'll stop him, just as he is going in, and say, "I beg your pardon, +sir, was it Mr_. DEVENISH_?" And he will say, "Yes!" and you will +say, "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; _this_ way, please." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. And suppose they both call together? + +BELINDA (_non-plussed for a moment_). We won't suppose anything so +exciting, Betty. + +BETTY. No, ma'am. And suppose any other gentleman calls? + +BELINDA (_with a sigh_). There aren't any other gentlemen. + +BETTY. It might be a clergyman, come to ask for a subscription like. + +BELINDA. If it's a clergyman, Betty, I shall--I shall want your +assistance out of the hammock first. + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. That's all. + +(BETTY _crosses below table and chairs to porch_.) + +To anybody else I'm not at home, (_Trying to secure book on table and +nearly falling out of the hammock_.) Oh, just give me that little +green book. (_Pointing to books on the table_.) The one at the +bottom there--that's the one. (BETTY _gives it to her_.) Thank you. +(_Reading the title_.) "The Lute of Love," by Claude Devenish. +(_To herself as she turns the pages_.) It doesn't seem much for +half-a-crown when you think of the _Daily Telegraph_ .... Lute ... +Lute .... I should have quite a pretty mouth if I kept on saying that. +(_With a great deal of expression_.) Lute! (_She pats her mouth +back_.) + +BETTY. Is that all, ma'am? + +BELINDA. That's all. (BETTY _prepares to go_.) Oh, what am I +thinking of! (_Waving to the table_.) I want that review; I think +it's the blue one. (_As_ BETTY _begins to look_.) It has an +article by Mr. Baxter on the "Rise of Lunacy in the Eastern Counties"-- + +(BETTY _gives her "The Nineteenth Century" Magazine_.) + +--yes, that's the one. I'd better have that too; I'm just at the most +exciting place. You shall have it after _me, _Betty. + +BETTY. Is that all, ma'am? + +BELINDA. Yes, that really is all. + +(BETTY _goes into the house_.) + +BELINDA (_reading to herself very pronouncedly_). "It is a matter of +grave concern to all serious students of social problems--" (_Putting +the review down in hammock and shaking her head gently_.) But not in +April. (_Lazily opening the book and reading_.) "Tell me where is +love"--well, that's the question, isn't it? (_She lies back in the +hammock lazily and the book of poems falls from her to the ground_. +DELIA _comes into the garden, from Paris. She is decidedly a modern +girl, pretty and self-possessed. Her hair is half-way up; waiting for +her birthday, perhaps. She sees her mother suddenly, stops, and then +goes on tiptoe to the head of the hammock. She smiles and kisses her +mother on the forehead_. BELINDA, _looking supremely unconscious, +goes on sleeping_. DELIA _kisses her lightly again_. BELINDA +_wakes up with an extraordinarily natural start, and is just about to +say, _"Oh, Mr. Devenish--you mustn't!"--_when she sees_ DELIA.) +Delia! (_They kiss each other frantically_.) + +DELIA. Well, mummy, aren't you glad to see me? + +BELINDA. My darling child! + +DELIA. Say you're glad. + +BELINDA (_sitting up_). My darling, I'm absolutely--(DELIA +_crosses round to_ L. _of hammock_.) Hold the hammock while I +get out, dear; we don't want an accident. (DELIA _holds the_ L. +_end of it and_ BELINDA _struggles out, leaving the magazine and +her handkerchief in the hammock_.) They're all right when you're +there, and they'll bear two tons, but they're horrid getting in and out +of. (_Kissing her again_.) Darling, it really _is_ you? + +DELIA. Oh, it is jolly seeing you again. I believe you were asleep. + +BELINDA (_with dignity_). Certainly not, child. I was reading +_The Nineteenth Century_--(_with an air_)--and after. (_Earnestly_) +Darling, wasn't it next Thursday you were coming back? + +DELIA. No, this Thursday, silly. + +BELINDA (_penitently_). Oh, my darling, and I was going over to +Paris to bring you home. + +DELIA. I half expected you. + +BELINDA. So confusing their both being called Thursday. And you were +leaving school for the very last time. If you don't forgive me, Delia, I +shall cry. + +DELIA (_kissing her and stroking her hand fondly_). Silly mother! + +(BELINDA _sits down in the deck-chair and_ DELIA _sits on the +table_.) + +BELINDA. Isn't it a lovely day for April, darling! I've wanted to say +that to somebody all day, and you're the first person who's given me the +chance. Oh, I said it to Betty, but she only said, "Yes, ma'am." + +DELIA. Poor mother! + +BELINDA (_jumping up suddenly, crossing to_ L. _of and +kissing_ DELIA _again_). I simply must have another one. And to +think that you're never going back to school any more. (_Looking at +her fondly, and backing to_ L.) Darling, you _are_ looking +pretty. + +DELIA. Am I? + +BELINDA. Lovely. (_She kisses her once more, then she takes the +cushion from the hammock, moves at back of table and places it on the +head of the deck-chair_.) And now you're going to stay with me for +just as long as you want a mother. (_Anxiously moving to_ R. _of +deckchair_.) Darling, you didn't mind being sent away to school, did +you? It _is_ the usual thing, you know. + +DELIA. Silly mother! of course it is. + +BELINDA (_relieved, and sitting on deck-chair_). I'm so glad you +think so too. + +DELIA. Have you been very lonely without me? + +BELINDA (_with a sly look at_ DELIA). Very. + +DELIA (_turning to_ BELINDA _and holding up a finger_). The +truth, mummy! + +BELINDA. I've missed you horribly, Delia. (_Primly_.) The absence +of female companionship of the requisite-- + +DELIA. Are you really all alone? + +BELINDA (_smiling mysteriously and coyly_). Well, not always, of +course. + +DELIA (_excitedly, at she slips off the table, and backing to_ L. +_a little_). Mummy, I believe you're being bad again. + +BELINDA. Really, darling, you forget that I'm old enough to be--in fact, +am--your mother. + +DELIA (_nodding her head_). You are being bad. + +BELINDA (_rising with dignity and drawing herself up to her full +height, moving_ L.). My child, that is not the way to--Oh, I say, +what a lot taller I am than you! (_Turning her back to_ DELIA +_and comparing sizes_.) + +DELIA. And prettier. + +BELINDA (_playfully rubbing noses with_ DELIA). Oh, do you think +so? (_Firmly, but pleased_.) Don't be silly, child. + +DELIA (_holding up a finger_). Now tell me all that's been +happening here at once. + +BELINDA (_with a sigh_). And I was just going to ask you how you +were getting on with your French. (_Sits in deck-chair_.) + +DELIA. Bother French! You've been having a much more interesting time +than I have, so you've got to tell. + +BELINDA (_with a happy sigh_). O-oh! (_She sinks back into her +chair_.) + +DELIA (_taking off her coat_). Is it like the Count at Scarborough? + +BELINDA (_surprised and pained_). My darling, what do you mean? + +DELIA. Don't you remember the Count who kept proposing to you at +Scarborough? I do. (_Places coat on hammock_.) + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Dear one, you were the merest child, +paddling about on the beach and digging castles. + +DELIA (_smiling to herself_). I was old enough to notice the Count. + +BELINDA (_sadly_). And I'd bought her a perfectly new spade! How +one deceives oneself! + +DELIA (_at table and leaning across, with hands on table_). And +then there was the M.P. who proposed at Windermere. + +BELINDA. Yes, dear, but it wasn't seconded--I mean he never got very far +with it. + +DELIA. And the artist in Wales. + +BELINDA. Darling child, what a memory you have. No wonder your teachers +are pleased with you. + +DELIA (_settling herself comfortably in deck-chair_ L. _of_ +BELINDA _and lying in her arms_). Now tell me all about this one. + +BELINDA (_meekly_). Which one? + +DELIA (_excitedly_). Oh, are there lots? + +BELINDA (_severely_). Only two. + +DELIA. Two! You abandoned woman! + +BELINDA. It's something in the air, darling. I've never been in +Devonshire in April before. + +DELIA. Is it really serious this time? + +BELINDA (_pained_). I wish you wouldn't say this time, Delia. It +sounds so unromantic. If you'd only put it into French--_cette +fois_--it sounds so much better. _Cette fois_. (_Parentally_.) +When one's daughter has just returned from an expensive schooling in +Paris, one likes to feel----- + +DELIA. What I meant, dear, was, am I to have a stepfather at last? + +BELINDA. Now you're being too French, darling. + +DELIA. Why, do you still think father may be alive? + +BELINDA. Why not? It's only eighteen years since he left us, and he was +quite a young man then. + +DELIA. Yes, but surely, surely you'd have heard from him in all those +years, if he'd been alive? + +BELINDA. Well, he hasn't heard from _me, _and I'm still alive. + +DELIA (_looking earnestly at her mother, rises and moves_ L.C.). I +shall never understand it. + +BELINDA. Understand what? + +DELIA. Were you as heavenly when you were young as you are now? + +BELINDA (_rapturously_). Oh, I was sweet! + +DELIA. And yet he left you after only six months. + +BELINDA (_rather crossly, sitting up_). I wish you wouldn't keep on +saying he left me. I left him too. + +DELIA (_running to and kneeling in front of_ BELINDA _and looking +anxiously into her face_). Why? + +BELINDA (_smiling to herself_). Well, you see, he was quite certain +he knew how to manage women, and I was quite certain I knew how to +manage men. (_Thoughtfully_.) If only one of us had been certain, +it would have been all right. + +DELIA (_seriously_). What really happened, mummy? I'm grown up now, +so I think you ought to tell me. + +BELINDA (_thoughtfully_). That was about all, you know ... except +for his beard. + +DELIA. Had he a beard? (_Laughing_.) How funny! + +BELINDA (_roaring with laughter, in which_ DELIA _joins_). +Yes, dear, it was; but he never would see it. He took it quite +seriously. + +DELIA. And did you say dramatically, "If you really loved me, you'd take +it off"? + +BELINDA (_apologetically_). I'm afraid I did, darling. + +DELIA. And what did he say? + +BELINDA. He said--_very_ rudely--that, if I loved _him, _I'd +do my hair in a different way. + +DELIA (_sinks down on her haunches, facing the audience_). How +ridiculous! + +BELINDA (_touching her hair_). Of course, I didn't do it like this +then. I suppose we never ought to have married, really. + +DELIA. Why did you? + +BELINDA. Mother rather wanted it. (_Solemnly_.) Delia, never get +married because your mother---- Oh, I forgot; _I'm_ your mother. + +DELIA. And I don't want a better one ... (_They embrace_.) And so +you left each other? + +BELINDA. Yes. + +DELIA. But, darling, didn't you tell him there was going to be a Me? + +BELINDA. Oh no! + +DELIA. I wonder why not? + +BELINDA. Well, you see, if I had, he might have wanted to stay. + +DELIA. But---- + +BELINDA (_hurt_). If he didn't want to stay for _me, _I didn't +want him to stay for _you_. (_Penitently_.) Forgive me, darling, +but I didn't know you very well then. We've been very happy together, +haven't we? + +DELIA (_going to the hammock, sitting in it and dangling her +legs_). I should think we have. + +BELINDA (_leaning back in chair_). I don't want to deny you +anything, and, of course, if you'd like a stepfather (_looking down +modestly_) or two-- + +DELIA. Oh, you _have_ been enjoying yourself. + +BELINDA. Only you see how awkward it would be if Jack turned up in the +middle of the wedding, like--like Eugene Aram. + +DELIA. Enoch Arden, darling. + +BELINDA. It's very confusing their having the same initials. Perhaps I'd +better call them both E. A. in future and then I shall be safe. Well, +anyhow it would be awkward, darling, wouldn't it? Not that I should know +him from Adam after all these years--except for a mole on his left arm. + +DELIA. Perhaps Adam had a mole. + +BELINDA. No, darling; you're thinking of Noah. He had two. + +DELIA (_thoughtfully_). I wonder what would happen if you met +somebody whom you really _did_ fall in love with? + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Now you're being serious, and it's +April. + +DELIA. Aren't these two--the present two--serious? + +BELINDA. Oh no! They think they are, but they aren't a bit, really. +Besides, I'm doing them such a lot of good. I'm sure they'd hate to +marry me, but they love to think they're in love with me, and--_I_ +love it, and--and _they_ love it, and--and we _all_ love it. + +DELIA (_rising and crossing to_ BELINDA). You really are the +biggest, darlingest baby who ever lived. (_Kisses her_.) Do say I +shan't spoil your lovely times. + +BELINDA (_surprised_). Spoil them? Why, you'll make them more +lovely than ever. + +DELIA (_turning away and sitting on table_). Well, but do they know +you have a grown-up daughter? + +BELINDA (_suddenly realizing and sitting up_). Oh! + +DELIA. It doesn't really matter, because you don't look a day more than +thirty. + +BELINDA (_absently_). No. (_Hurriedly_.) I mean, how sweet of +you--only---- + +DELIA. What! + +BELINDA (_playing with her rings_). Well, one of them, Mr. Baxter-- +Harold--(_she looks quickly up at_ DELIA _and down again in +pretty affectation, but she is really laughing at herself all the +time_) he writes statistical articles for the Reviews--percentages +and all those things. He's just the sort of man, if he knew that I was +your mother, to work it out that I was more than thirty. The other one, +Mr. Devenish--Claude--(_she looks up and down as before_) he's +rather, rather poetical. He thinks I came straight from heaven--last +week. + +DELIA (_laughing and jumping up and crossing below deck-chair to_ +R. _towards house_). I think _I'd_ better go straight back to +Paris. + +BELINDA (_jumping up and catching her firmly by the left arm_). You +will do nothing of the sort. (_Pulling_ DELIA _back to centre_.) +You will take off that hat--(_she lets go of the arm and begins to +take out the pin_) which is a perfect duck, and I don't know why I +didn't say so before--(_she puts the hat down on the table_) and +let me take a good look at you (_she does so_), and kiss you (_she +does so, then crosses_ DELIA _below her and takes her towards the +house_), and then we'll go to your room and unpack and have a lovely +talk about clothes. And then we'll have tea. + +(BETTY _comes in and stands up at back_.) + +And now here's Betty coming in to upset all our delightful plans, just +when we'vt made them. (BELINDA _and_ DELIA _are now on_ BETTY'S R.) + +DELIA (_leaving_ BELINDA _and shaking hands with_ BETTY). How +are you, Betty? I've left school. + +BETTY. Very nicely, thank you, miss. (_Backing to_ L. _and +admiring_.) You've grown. + +BELINDA (_moving to and patting the top of_ DELIA'S _head_). +I'm much taller than she is... (_Crossing to_ BETTY _in front +of_ DELIA.) Well, Betty, what is it? + +BETTY. The two gentlemen, Mr. Baxter and Mr. Devenish, have both called +together, ma'am. + +BELINDA (_excited_). Oh! How--how very simultaneous of them! + +DELIA (_eagerly, going towards house_). Oh, do let me see them! + +BELINDA (_stopping her_). Darling, you'll see plenty of them before +you've finished. (_To_ BETTY _in an exaggerated whisper_.) What have +you done with them? + +BETTY. They're waiting in the hall, ma'am, while I said I would see if +you were at home. + +BELINDA. All right, Betty. Give me two minutes and then show them out +here. + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +(BETTY _crosses below_ BELINDA _and_ DELIA _and exits into +the house_.) + +BELINDA (_taking_ DELIA _down_ R. _a step_). They can't +do much harm to each other in two minutes. + +DELIA (_taking her hat from table_). Well, I'll go and unpack. +(_She goes back to_ BELINDA.) You really won't mind my coming down +afterwards? + +BELINDA. Of course not. (_A little awkwardly, taking_ DELIA'S +_arm and moving down_ R.) Darling one, I wonder if you'd mind--just +at first--being introduced as my niece. (_By now at foot of +deck-chair_.) You see, I expect they're in a bad temper already +(_now_ C.), having come here together, and we don't want to spoil +their day entirely. + +DELIA (_smiling, on_ BELINDA'S L.). I'll be your mother if you +like. + +BELINDA. Oh no, that wouldn't do, because then Mr. Baxter would feel +that he ought to ask your permission before paying his attentions to me. +He's just that sort of man. A niece is so safe--however good you are at +statistics, you can't really prove anything. + +DELIA. All right, mummy. + +BELINDA (_enjoying herself_). You'd like to be called by a +different name, wouldn't you? There's something so thrilling about +taking a false name. Such a lot of adventures begin like that. How would +you like to be Miss Robinson, darling? It's a nice easy one to remember. +(_Persuasively_.) And you shall put your hair up so as to feel more +disguised. What fun we're going to have! + +DELIA. You baby! All right, then, I'm Miss Robinson, your favourite +niece. (_She takes her jacket from the hammock and moves towards the +house_.) + +BELINDA. How sweet of you! No, no, not that way--you'll meet them. +(_Following quickly up between tree and table to_ DELIA, _who has +now reached the house_.) Oh, I'm coming with you to do your hair. +(_Moving up_ C., _arm in arm with_ DELIA.) You don't think you're +going to be allowed to do it yourself, when so much depends on it, and +husbands leave you because of it, and---- + +(BELINDA, _seeing_ BETTY _entering from house, hurries_ DELIA +_up_ R., _and they bob down behind the yew hedge_ R. BETTY _comes +from the house into the garden, crossing to centre and up stage +looking for_ BELINDA, _followed by_ MR. BAXTER _and_ MR. DEVENISH. +BAXTER _gives an angry look round at_ DEVENISH _as he enters._ MR. +BAXTER _is forty-five, prim and erect, with close-trimmed moustache and +side-whiskers. His clothes are dark and he wears a bowler-hat_. MR. +DEVENISH _is a long-haired, good-looking boy in a négligé costume; +perhaps twenty-two years old, and very scornful of the world._ BAXTER +_crosses to_ L. _below_ BETTY, _and turns to her with a sharp inquiring +glance_. DEVENISH _moves down_ R., _languidly admiring the garden_.) + +BETTY (_looking about her surprised_). The mistress was here a +moment ago. (_The two heads pop up from behind the hedge and then down +again immediately_. BELINDA _and_ DELIA _exeunt_ R.). I expect she'll +be back directly, if you'll just wait. + +(_She goes back into the house_.) + +(BAXTER, _crossing to_ R., _meets_ DEVENISH _who has moved +up_ R. BAXTER _is annoyed and with an impatient gesture comes down +between the tree and the table to chair_ L. _and sits_. DEVENISH +_throws his felt hat on to the table and walks to the back of the +hammock. He sees the review in the hammock and picks it up_.) + +DEVENISH. Good heavens, Baxter, she's been reading your article! + +BAXTER. I dare say she's not the only one. + +DEVENISH. That's only guesswork (_going to back of table_); you +don't know of anyone else. + +BAXTER (_with contempt_). How many people, may I ask, have bought +your poems? + +DEVENISH (_loftily_). I don't write for the mob. + +BAXTER. I think I may say that of my own work. + +DEVENISH. Baxter, I don't want to disappoint you, but I have reluctantly +come to the conclusion that you are one of the mob. (_Throws magazine +down on table, annoyed_.) Dash it! what are you doing in the country +at all in a bowler-hat? + +BAXTER. If I wanted to be personal, I could say, "Why don't you get your +hair cut?" Only that form of schoolboy humour doesn't appeal to me. + +DEVENISH. This is not a personal matter; I am protesting on behalf of +nature. (_Leaning against tree_.) What do the birds and the flowers +and the beautiful trees think of your hat? + +BAXTER. If one began to ask oneself what the _birds_ thought of +things--(_He pauses_.) + +DEVENISH. Well, and why shouldn't one ask oneself? It is better than +asking oneself what the Stock Exchange thinks of things. + +BAXTER. Well (_looking up at_ DEVENISH'S _extravagant hair_), +it's the nesting season. Your hair! (_Suddenly_.) Ha! ha! ha! ha! +ha! ha! + +DEVENISH (_hastily smoothing it down_). Really, Baxter, you're +vulgar. (_He turns away and resumes his promenading, going down R. and +then round deck-chair to front of hammock. Suddenly he sees his book on +the grass beneath the hammock and makes a dash for it_.) Ha, my book! +(_Gloating over it_.) Baxter, she reads my book. + +BAXTER. I suppose you gave her a copy. + +DEVENISH (exultingly). Yes, I gave her a copy. My next book will be hers +and hers alone. + +BAXTER. Then let me say that, in my opinion, you took a very great +liberty. + +DEVENISH. Liberty! And this from a man who is continually forcing his +unwelcome statistics upon her. + +BAXTER. At any rate, I flatter myself that there is no suggestion of +impropriety in anything that _I_ write. + +DEVENISH. I'm not so sure about that, Baxter. + +BAXTER. What do you mean, sir? + +DEVENISH. Did you read The Times this month on the new reviews! + +BAXTER. Well! + +DEVENISH. Oh, nothing. It just said, "Mr. Baxter's statistics are +extremely suggestive." + +(BAXTER _makes a gesture of annoyance_.) + +I haven't read them, so of course I don't know what you've been up to. + +BAXTER (_rising, turning away in disgust and crossing up_ L). Pah! + +DEVENISH. Poor old Baxter! (_Puts book of poems down on table and +crosses below chair and gathers a daffodil from a large vase down_ R. +_and saying_ "Poor old Baxter!" _ad lib_. BAXTER _moves round back +of hammock and to_ R., _collides with_ DEVENISH _and much annoyed +goes down between table and tree towards chair down_ L.) Baxter-- +(_moving to and leaning against tree_ R.) + +BAXTER (_turning to_ DEVENISH _crossly_). I wish you wouldn't +keep calling me "Baxter." + +DEVENISH. Harold. + +(BAXTER _displays annoyance, and continues his walk to_ L.) + +BAXTER. It is only by accident--an accident which we both deplore--that +we have met at all, and in any case I am a considerably older man than +yourself. (_Sits_ L.) + +DEVENISH. Mr. Baxter--father--(_gesture of annoyance from_ BAXTER)-- +I have a proposal to make. We will leave it to this beautiful flower to +decide which of us the lady loves. + +BAXTER (_turning round_). Eh? + +DEVENISH (_pulling off the petals_). She loves me, she loves Mr. +Baxter, she loves me, she loves Mr. Baxter--(BELINDA _appears in the +porch_)--Heaven help her!--she loves me-- + +BELINDA (_coming down_ R.). What are you doing, Mr. Devenish! + +DEVENISH (_throwing away the flower and bowing very low_). My lady. + +(BAXTER _rises quickly_.) + +BAXTER (removing his bowler-hat stiffly). Good afternoon, Mrs. Tremayne. + +(_She gives her left hand to_ DEVENISH, _who kisses it, and her +right to_ BAXTER, _who shakes it_.) + +BELINDA. How nice of you both to come! + +BAXTER. Mr. Devenish and I are inseparable--apparently. + +BELINDA. You haven't told me what you were doing, Mr. Devenish. Was it +(_plucking an imaginary flower_) "This year, next year?" or "Silk, +satin--" + +DEVENISH. My lady, it was even more romantic than that. I have the +honour to announce to your ladyship that Mr. Baxter is to be a sailor. +(_Dances round imitating the hornpipe_.) + +BELINDA (_to_ BAXTER). Doesn't he talk nonsense? + +BAXTER. He'll grow out of it. I did. + +BELINDA (_moving down_ R. _and then to centre towards +hammock_). Oh, I hope not. I love talking nonsense, and I'm ever so +old. (_As they both start forward to protest_.) Now which one of +you will say it first? + +DEVENISH. You are as old as the stars and as young as the dawn. + +BAXTER. You are ten years younger than I am. + +BELINDA. What sweet things to say! I don't know which I like best. + +DEVENISH. Where will my lady sit! + +BELINDA (_with an exaggerated curtsy_). I will recline in the +hammock, an it please thee, my lord------ + +(BAXTER _goes to the right of the hammock, saying_ "Allow me." +DEVENISH _moves to the left of the hammock and holds it, takes up a +cushion which_ BAXTER _snatches from him and places in hammock +again_.) + +--only it's rather awkward getting in, Mr. Baxter. Perhaps you'd both +better look at the tulips for a moment. + +BAXTER. Oh--ah--yes. (_Crosses down_ R., _turns his back to the +hammock and examines the flowers_.) + +DEVENISH (leaning over her). If only------ + +BELINDA. You'd better not say anything, Mr. Devenlsh. Keep it for your +next volume. (_He turns away and examines flowers on_ L. _She +sits on hammock_.) One, two, three--(_throws her legs over_)-- +that was better than last time. (_They turn round to see her safely in +the hammock_. DEVENISH _leans against the_ L. _tree at her feet, +and_ BAXTER _draws the deck-chair from the right side of the table +and turns it round towards her. He presses his hat more firmly on +and sits down_.) I wonder if either of you can guess what I've been +reading this afternoon! + +DEVENISH (_looking at her lovingly_). I know. + +BELINDA (_giving him a fleeting look_). How did you know? + +DEVENISH. Well, I----- + +BELINDA (_to_ BAXTER). Yes, Mr. Baxter, it was your article I was +reading. If you'd come five minutes earlier you'd have found me +wrestling--I mean revelling in it. + +BAXTER. I am very greatly honoured, Mrs. Tremayne. Ah--it seemed to me a +very interesting curve showing the rise and fall of----- + +BELINDA. I hadn't got up to the curves. They _are_ interesting, +aren't they? They are really more in Mr. Devenish's line. (_To_ +DEVENISH.) Mr. Devenish, it was a great disappointment to me that all +the poems in your book seemed to be written to somebody else. + +DEVENISH. It was before I met you, lady. They were addressed to the +goddess of my imagination. It is only in these last few weeks that I +have discovered her. + +BELINDA. And discovered she was dark and not fair. + +DEVENISH. She will be dark in my next volume. + +BELINDA. Oh, how nice of her! + +BAXTER (_kindly_). You should write a real poem to Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_excitedly_). Oh do! "To Belinda." I don't know what +rhymes, except cinder. You could say your heart was like a cinder--all +burnt up. + +DEVENISH (_pained_). Oh, my lady, I'm afraid that is a cockney +rhyme. + +BELINDA. How thrilling! I've never been to Hampstead Heath. + +DEVENISH. "Belinda." It is far too beautiful to rhyme with anything but +itself. + +BELINDA. Fancy! But what about Tremayne? (_Singing_.) Oh, I am Mrs. +Tremayne, and I don't want to marry again. + +DEVENISH (_protesting_). My lady! + +BAXTER (_protesting_). Belinda! + +BELINDA (_pointing excitedly to_ BAXTER). There, that's the first +time he's called me Belinda! This naughty boy--(_indicating_ +DEVENISH)--is always doing it--by accident. + +DEVENISH. Are you serious? + +BELINDA. Not as a rule. + +DEVENISH. You're not going to marry again? + +BELINDA. Well, who could I marry? + +DEVENISH and BAXTER (_together_). Me! + +BELINDA (_dropping her eyes modestly_). But this is England. + +BAXTER (_rising and taking off his hat, which he places on table, and +going up to_ BELINDA). Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age--of my +greater years--to speak first. + +DEVENISH. Mrs. Tremayne, I-- + +BELINDA (_kindly to_ DEVENISH). You can speak afterwards, Mr. +Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together. (_To_ +BAXTER, _giving encouragement_.) Yes? + +BAXTER (_moving down a little and then returning to_ BELINDA). Mrs. +Tremayne, I am a man of substantial position--(DEVENISH _sniggers-- +to_ BAXTER'S _great annoyance_.) and perhaps I may say of some +repute in serious circles. + +(DEVENISH _sniggers again_.) + +All that I have, whether of material or mental endowment, I lay at your +feet, together with an admiration which I cannot readily put into words. +As my wife I think you would be happy, and I feel that with you by my +side I could achieve even greater things. + +BELINDA. How sweet of you! But I ought to tell you that I'm no good at +figures. + +DEVENISH (_protesting_). My lady-- + +BELINDA. I don't mean what you mean, Mr. Devenish. You wait till it's +your turn. (_To_ BAXTER.) Yes? + +BAXTER (_very formally_). I ask you to marry me, Belinda. + +BELINDA (_settling herself happily and closing her eyes_). O-oh!... +Now it's _your_ turn, Mr. Devenish. + +DEVENISH (_excitedly_). Money--thank Heaven, I have no money. +Reputation--thank Heaven, I have no reputation. + +(BAXTER, _very annoyed, moves down and sits on deck-chair_.) + +What can I offer you? Dreams--nothing but dreams. Come with me and I +will show you the world through my dreams. What can I give you? Youth, +freedom, beauty-- + +BAXTER. Debts. + +BELINDA (_still with her eyes shut_). You mustn't interrupt, Mr. +Baxter. + +DEVENISH (_leaning across hammock_). Belinda, marry me and I will +open your eyes to the beauty of the world. Come to me! + +BELINDA (_happily_). O-oh! You've got such different ways of +putting things. How can I choose between you? + +DEVENISH. Then you will marry one of us? + +BELINDA. You know I really _oughtn't_ to. + +BAXTER. I don't see why not. + +BELINDA. Well, there's just a little difficulty in the way. + +DEVENISH. What is it? I will remove it. For you I could remove anything +--yes, even Baxter. (_He looks at_ BAXTER, _who is sitting more +solidly than ever in his chair_.) + +BELINDA. And anyhow I should have to choose between you. + +DEVENISH (_in a whisper_), choose me. + +BAXTER (_stiffly_). Mrs. Tremayne does not require any prompting. A +fair field and let the best man win. + +DEVENISH (_going across to and slapping the astonished_ BAXTER +_on the back_). Aye, let the best man win! Well spoken, Baxter. +(BAXTER _is very annoyed. To_ BELINDA _and going back to her_ +L.) Send us out into the world upon some knightly quest, lady, and let +the victor be rewarded. + +BAXTER. I--er--ought to say that I should be unable to go very far. I +have an engagement to speak at Newcastle on the 2lst. + +DEVENISH. Baxter, I will take no unfair advantage of you. Let the beard +of the Lord Mayor of Newcastle be the talisman that my lady demands; I +am satisfied. + +BAXTER. This sort of thing is entirely contrary to my usual mode of +life, but I will not be outfaced by a mere boy. (_Rising_.) I am +prepared. (_Going to her_.) + +DEVENISH. Speak, lady. + +BELINDA (_speaking in a deep, mysterious voice_). Gentlemen, ye put +wild thoughts into my head. In sooth, I _am_ minded to send ye +forth upon a quest that is passing strange. Know ye that there is a maid +journeyed hither, hight Robinson--whose--(_in her natural voice_) +what's the old for aunt? + +BAXTER (_hopefully_). Mother's sister. + +BELINDA. You know, I think I shall have to explain this in ordinary +language. You won't mind very much, will you, Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH. It is the spirit of this which matters, not the language +which clothes it. + +BELINDA. Oh, I'm so glad you think so. Well, now about Miss Robinson. +She's my niece and she's just come to stay with me, and--poor girl-- +she's lost her father. Absolutely lost him. He disappeared ever such a +long time ago, and poor Miss Robinson--Delia--naturally wants to find +him. Poor girl! she _can't_ think where he is. + +DEVENISH (_nobly_). I will find him. + +BELINDA. Oh, thank you, Mr. Devenish; Miss Robinson would be so much +obliged. + +BAXTER. Yes--er--but what have we to go upon? Beyond the fact that his +name is Robinson-- + +BELINDA. I shouldn't go on _that_ too much. You see, he may easily +have changed it by now. He was never very much of a Robinson. Nothing to +do with Peter or any of those. + +DEVENISH. I will find him. + +BAXTER (_with a look of annoyance at_ DEVENISH). Well, can you tell +us what he's like? + +BELINDA. Well, it's such a long time since I saw him. (_Looking down +modestly_.) Of course, I was quite a girl then. The only thing I know +for certain is that he has a mole on his left arm about here. (_She +indicates a spot just below the elbow_. BAXTER _examines it +closely_.) + +DEVENISH (_folding his arms and looking nobly upwards_). I will +find him. + +BAXTER. I am bound to inform you, Mrs. Tremayne, that even a trained +detective could not give you very much hope in such a case. However, I +will keep a look-out for him, and, of course, if-- + +DEVENISH. Fear not, lady, I will find him. + +BAXTER (_annoyed_). Yes, you keep on saying that, but what have you +got to go on? + +DEVENISH (_grandly_). Faith! The faith which moves mountains. + +BELINDA. Yes, and this is only just one small mole-hill, Mr. Baxter. + +BAXTER. Yes, but still-- + +BELINDA. S'sh! here is Miss Robinson. + +(BAXTER _takes up his hat and moves below the deck-chair to_ R. +_to meet_ DELIA.) + +If Mr. Devenish will hold the hammock while I alight--we don't want an +accident-- + +(DELIA _comes out of the house_.) + +--I can introduce you. (_He helps her to get out, holding the +hammock_.) Thank you. Delia darling (DELIA _moves down_ R.) this +is Mr. Baxter,--and Mr. Devenish. My niece, Miss Robinson-- + +(DELIA _shakes hands with_ BAXTER _and moves to_ C. _below_ +BELINDA _and shakes hands with_ DEVENISH.) + +DELIA. How do you do? + +BELINDA. Miss Robinson has just come over from France. _Man Dieu, quel +pays!_ + +BAXTER. I hope you had a good crossing, Miss Robinson. + +DELIA. Oh, I never mind about the crossing. (_Very slowly and +shyly_.) Aunt Belinda----(_She stops and smiles_.) + +BELINDA. Yes, dear? + +DELIA. I believe tea is almost ready. I want mine, and I'm sure Mr. +Baxter's hungry. (_He sniggers approvingly_.) Mr. Devenish scorns +food, I expect. + +DEVENISH (_hurt_). Why do you say that? + +DELIA. Aren't you a poet? + +BELINDA. Yes, darling, but that doesn't prevent him eating. He'll be +absolutely lyrical over Betty's sandwiches. + +DEVENISH. You won't deny me that inspiration, I hope, Miss Robinson. + +BELINDA (_taking_ DELIA'S_ arm and moving with her to below deck- +chair_). Well, let's go and see what they're like. + +(DELIA _moves up_ R.C. _to below the porch, accompanied by_ +BAXTER _on her_ R. _and_ DEVENISH, _who follows her on her_ L. +_They all move towards the porch_.) + +Mr. Baxter, just a moment. + +BAXTER (_apologizing to_ DELIA _and moving in front of the others +to back of deck-chair_.) Yes? + +(DELIA _gathers a daffodil from a vase_ R. _and places it in +_DEVENISH'S_ buttonhole_.) + +BELINDA (_secretly_). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must +be a surprise for her. + +BAXTER. Quite so, I understand. + +BELINDA. That's right. (BAXTER _rejoins_ DELIA. _Raising her +voice_.) Oh, Mr. Devenish. + +(DEVENISH, _who is evidently much attracted by_ DELIA, _apologizes +to her and goes back between tree and hammock to_ L. _of_ BELINDA.) + +DEVENISH. Yes, Mrs. Tremayne? + +BELINDA (_secretly_). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must +be a surprise for her. + +DEVENISH. Of course! I shouldn't dream----(_Indignantly_.) +Robinson! What an unsuitable name! + +(BAXTER _and_ DELIA _are just going into the house_.) + +BELINDA (_dismissing_ DEVENISH). All right, I'll catch you up. +(DEVENISH _goes after the other two_.) + +(_Left alone_, BELINDA _laughs happily to herself, and then +begins to look rather aimlessly about her. She picks up her sunshade +and opens it. She comes to the hammock, picks out her handkerchief, +says, "Ah, there you are!" and puts it away. She goes slowly towards +the house_. TREMAYNE _enters from_ L. _and with his back to +the audience tries latch of imaginary gate below scenic painted +gateway_ L. BELINDA _turns her head, hearing imaginary click of the +garden gate_ L. _She comes slowly back_ R.C.) + +BELINDA (_seeing_ TREMAYNE). Have you lost yourself, or something? +No; the latch is this side. ... Yes, that's right. + +(TREMAYNE _comes in. He has been knocking about the world for +eighteen years, and is very much a man, though he has kept his manners. +His hair is greying a little at the sides, and he looks the forty-odd +that he is. Without his moustache and beard he is very different from +the boy_ BELINDA _married_.) + +TREMAYNE ( _with his hat in his hand _). I'm afraid I'm +trespassing. + +BELINDA (_winningly, moving down_ R. _a little _). But it's +such a pretty garden (_turns away, dosing her parasol_), isn't it? + +(TREMAYNE, _half recognizing her, moves to back of hammock and leans +across to obtain a better view of her_.) + +TREMAYNE (_rather confused_). I-I beg your pardon, I-er--- (_He +is wondering if it can possibly be she_. BELINDA _thinks his +confusion is due to the fact that he is trespassing, and hastens to put +him at his ease_.) + +BELINDA. I should have done the same myself, you know. + +TREMAYNE (_pulling himself together_). Oh, but you mustn't think I +just came in because I liked the garden--- + +BELINDA (_clapping her hands_). No; but say you do like it, quick. + +TREMAYNE. It's lovely and--- (_He hesitates_.) + +BELINDA (_hopefully_). Yes? + +TREMAYNE (_with conviction_). Yes, it's lovely. BELINDA (_with +that happy sigh of hers_). O-oh! ... Now tell me what really did +happen? + +TREMAYNE. I was on my way to Marytown--- + +BELINDA. To where? + +TREMAYNE. Marytown. + +BELINDA. Oh, you mean Mariton. + +TREMAYNE. Do I? + +BELINDA. Yes; we always call it Mariton down here. (_Earnestly_.) +You don't mind, do you? + +TREMAYNE (_smiling_). Not a bit. + +BELINDA. Just say it--to see if you've got it right. + +TREMAYNE. Mariton. + +BELINDA (_shaking her head_). Oh no, that's quite wrong. Try it +again (_With a rustic accent_.) Mariton. + +TREMAYNE. Mariton. + +BELINDA. Yes, that's much better .... (_As if it were he who had +interrupted_.) Well, do go on. + +TREMAYNE. I'm afraid it isn't much of an apology really. I saw what +looked like a private road (_points_ L.), but what I rather hoped +wasn't, and--well, I thought I'd risk it. I do hope you'll forgive me. + +BELINDA. Oh, but I love people seeing my garden. Are you staying in +Mariton? + +TREMAYNE. I think so. Oh yes, decidedly. + +BELINDA. Well, perhaps the next time the road won't feel so private. + +TREMAYNE. How charming of you! (_He feels he must know. A piano is +heard off playing "Belinda." The tune is continued until the fall of the +curtain_.) Are you Mrs. Tremayne by any chance? + +BELINDA. Yes. + +TREMAYNE (_nodding to himself_). Yes. + +BELINDA. How did _you_ know? + +TREMAYNE (_hastily inventing, moving down_ L. _below the +hammock_). They use you as a sign-post in the village. Past Mrs. +Tremayne's house and then bear to the left-- + +BELINDA. And you couldn't go past it? + +TREMAYNE. I'm afraid I couldn't. Thank you so much for not minding. +(_Going up to the_ L. _of her_.) Well, I must be getting on, I +have trespassed quite enough. + +BELINDA (_regretfully_). And you haven't really seen the garden +yet. + +TREMAYNE. If you won't mind my going on this way, I shall see some more +on my way out. + +BELINDA. Please do. It likes being looked at. (_With the faintest +suggestion of demureness_.) All pretty things do. + +TREMAYNE. Thank you very much. (_Turns to go up c_.) Er----(_He +hesitates_.) + +BELINDA (_helpfully_). Yes? + +TREMAYNE. I wonder if you'd mind very much if I called one day to thank +you formally for the lesson you gave me in pronunciation? + +BELINDA (_gravely_). Yes. I almost think you ought to. I think it's +the correct thing to do. + +TREMAYNE (_contentedly_). Thank you very much, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA. You'll come in quite formally (_pointing to_ R. _with +her sunshade_) by the front-door next time, won't you, because-- +because that seems the only chance of my getting to know your name. + +TREMAYNE. Oh, I beg your pardon. My name is--er--er--Robinson. + +(_She is highly amused and looks round towards the house, recalling to +her mind_ DELIA.) + +BELINDA (_laughing_). How very odd! + +TREMAYNE (_startled_). Odd? + +BELINDA. Yes; we have some one called Robinson (_nodding towards the +house_) staying in the house. I wonder if she is any relation? + +TREMAYNE (_hastily_). Oh no, no. No, she couldn't be. I have no +relations called Robinson--not to speak of. + +BELINDA. You must tell me all about your relations when you come and +call, Mr. Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. I think we can find something better worth talking about than +that. + +BELINDA. Do you think so? (_He says "Yes" with his eyes, bows, and +moves up_ C. _The piano is now forte. BELINDA accompanies him up a +little, then stops. He turns in entrance up C., and they exchange +glances_. TREMAYNE _exits to_ R., _behind yew hedge. BELINDA +stays looking after him, then moves down to back of table and picking up +the book of poems, gives that happy sigh of hers, only even more +so_.) O-oh! + +(_Enter_ BETTY _from porch_.) + +BETTY. If you please, ma'am, Miss Delia says, are you coming in to tea? + +BELINDA (_looking straight in front of her, and taking no notice +of_ BETTY, _in a happy, dreamy voice_). Betty, ... about +callers .... If Mr. Robinson calls--he's the handsome gentleman who +hasn't been here before (_puts book down_)--you will say, "Not at +home." And he will say, "Oh!" And you will say, "I beg your pardon, +sir, was it Mr. Robinson?" And he will say, "Yes!" And you will say, +"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir---" (_Almost as if she were BETTY, she +begins to move towards the house_.) "This way---" (_she would be +smiling an invitation over her shoulder to_ MR. ROBINSON, _if he +were there, and she were_ BETTY)--"please!" (_And the abandoned +woman goes in to tea_.) + +CURTAIN + + + + ACT II + + + +_It is morning in_ BELINDA'S _hall, a low-roofed, oak-beamed +place, comfortably furnished as a sitting-room. There is an inner and an +outer front-door, both of which are open. Up_ C. _is a door leading +to a small room where hats and coats are kept. A door on the_ L. +_leads towards the living-rooms_. + +DEVENISH _enters from up_ L. _at back, passes the windows of the +inner room and crosses to the porch. He rings the electric bell outside, +then enters through the swing doors_ R.C. BETTY _enters_ R. +_and moves up at back of settee_ R. _to_ DEVENISH _by the swing +doors. He is carrying a large bunch of violets and adopts a very aesthetic +attitude_. + +BETTY. Good morning, sir. + +DEVENISH. Good morning. I am afraid this is an unceremonious hour for a +call, but my sense of beauty urged me hither in defiance of convention. + +BETTY. Yes, sir. + +DEVENISH (_holding up his bouquet to_ BETTY). See, the dew is yet +lingering upon them; how could I let them wait until this afternoon? + +BETTY. Yes, sir; but I think the mistress is out. + +DEVENISH. They are not for your mistress; they are for Miss Delia. + +BETTY. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. If you will come in, I'll see if I +can find her. (_She crosses to the door_ R. _and goes away to +find_ DELIA, _dosing the door after her_.) + +(DEVENISH _tries a number of poses about the room for himself and hit +bouquet. He crosses below the table_ C. _and sits_ L. _of it +and is about to place his elbow on the table when he finds the toy dog +which has been placed there is in his way. He removes it to the centre +of the table and then leans with his elbow on table and finds this pose +unsuitable so he crosses to above the fireplace and leans against the +upper portico, resting on his elbow which slips and nearly prostrates +him. He then crosses up to_ L. _of the cupboard door at back centre +and leans on his elbow against the wall_.) + +(_Enter_ DELIA _from the door_ R.) + +DELIA (_shutting the door and going to_ DEVENISH). Oh, good +morning, Mr. Devenish. + +[Illustration :] + +(DEVENISH _kisses her hand_.) + +I'm afraid my--er--aunt is out. + +DEVENISH. I know, Miss Delia, I know. + +DELIA. She'll be so sorry to have missed you. It is her day for you, +isn't it? + +DEVENISH. Her day for me? + +DELIA. Yes; Mr. Baxter generally comes to-morrow, doesn't he? + +DEVENISH (_jealously_). Miss Delia, if our friendship is to +progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I +take no interest whatever (_coming to back of table_ C.) in Mr. +Baxter's movements. + +DELIA (_moving down_ R. _a little_). Oh, I'm so sorry; I +thought you knew. What lovely flowers! Are they for my aunt? + +DEVENISH. To whom does one bring violets? To modest, shrinking, tender +youth. + +DELIA. I don't think we have anybody here like that. + +DEVENISH (_with a bow and holding out the violets to her_). Miss +Delia, they are for you. + +DELIA (_smelling and taking violets_). Oh, how nice of you! But I'm +afraid I oughtn't to take them from you under false pretences; I don't +shrink. + +DEVENISH. A fanciful way of putting it, perhaps. They are none the less +for you. + +DELIA. Well, it's awfully kind of you. (_Puts flowers down. Then she +moves up to the cupboard. He follows on her_ L. _and opens the +door_.) I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. (_Turning to him +in cupboard doorway_.) Aunt Belinda does all the romancing in our +family. + +DEVENISH. Your aunt is a very remarkable woman. + +DELIA. She is. Don't you dare to say a word against her. (_Takes up a +vase from a chair in cupboard and shakes it as if draining it_.) + +DEVENISH. My dear Miss Delia, nothing could be further from my thoughts. +Why, am I not indebted to her for that great happiness which has come to +me in these last few days? + +DELIA (_surprised_). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything +about it. (_Coming down to_ R. _of table with vase_.) But what +about poor Mr. Baxter? + +DEVENISH (_stiffly, crossing over to fireplace, very annoyed_). I +must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation. + +DELIA (_going up to table behind Chesterfield up_ L.). But I +thought Mr. Baxter and you were such friends. + +(DELIA _takes water carafe from the table and smiles at_ DEVENISH-- +_which he does not see_.) + +Do tell me what's happened. (_Moving down to_ R. _of table_ C., +_she sits and arranges the flowers_.) I seem to have lost myself. + +DEVENISH (_coming to the back of_ C. _table and reclining on +it_.) What has happened, Miss Delia, is that I have learnt at last +the secret that my heart has been striving to tell me for weeks past. As +soon as I saw that gracious lady, your aunt, I knew that I was in love. +Foolishly I took it for granted that it was she for whom my heart was +thrilling. How mistaken I was! Directly you came, you opened my eyes, +and now---- + +DELIA. Mr. Devenish, you don't say you're proposing to me? + +DEVENISH. I am. I feel sure I am. (_Leaning towards her_.) Delia, I +love you. + +DELIA. How exciting of you! + +DEVENISH (_with a modest shrug_). It's nothing; I am a poet. + +DELIA. You really want to marry me? + +DEVENISH. Such is my earnest wish. + +DELIA. But what about my aunt? + +DEVENISH (_simply_). She will be my aunt-in-law. + +DELIA. She'll be rather surprised. + +DEVENISH. Delia, I will be frank with you. (_Sits_.) I admit that I +made Mrs. Tremayne an offer of marriage. + +DELIA (_excitedly_). You really did? Was it that first afternoon I +came? + +DEVENISH. Yes. + +DELIA. Oh, I wish I'd been there! + +DEVENISH (_with dignity, rising and moving to_ L. _of table_). +It is not my custom to propose in the presence of a third party. It is +true that on the occasion you mention a man called Baxter was on the +lawn, but I regarded him no more than the old apple-tree or the +flower-beds, or any other of the fixtures. + +DELIA. What did she say? + +DEVENISH. She accepted me conditionally. + +DELIA. Oh, do tell me! + +DEVENISH. It is rather an unhappy story. This man called Baxter in his +vulgar way also made a proposal of marriage. Mrs. Tremayne was gracious +enough to imply that she would marry whichever one of us fulfilled a +certain condition. + +DELIA. How sweet of her! + +DEVENISH. It is my earnest hope, Miss Delia, that the man called Baxter +will be the victor. As far as is consistent with honour, I shall +endeavour to let Mr. Baxter (_banging the table with his hand_) +win. + +DELIA. What was the condition? + +DEVENISH. That I am not at liberty to tell. + +DELIA. Oh! + +DEVENISH. It is, I understand, to be a surprise for you. + +DELIA. How exciting! (_Rising and taking vase of violets which she +places up_ R.) Mr. Devenish, you have been very frank (_coming to +front of settee_ R. _and sitting_). May I be equally so? + +(DEVENISH _crosses to her and bows in acquiescence_.) Why do you +wear your hair so long? + +DEVENISH (_pleased_). You have noticed it? + +DELIA. Well, yes, I have. + +DEVENISH. I wear it so to express my contempt for the conventions of +so-called society. DELIA. I always thought that people wore it very +very short if they despised the conventions of society. + +DEVENISH. I think that the mere fact that my hair annoys Mr. Baxter is +sufficient justification for its length. + +DELIA. But if it annoys me too? + +DEVENISH (_heroically_). It shall go. (_Sits on settee above_ +DELIA.) + +(BELINDA _enters from up_ L. _with a garden basket supposed to +contain cutlets. She crosses the windows at back_.) + +DELIA (_apologetically_). I told you I wasn't a very romantic +person, didn't I? (_Kindly_.) You can always grow it again if you +fall in love with somebody else. + +DEVENISH. That is cruel of you, Delia. I shall never fall in love again. + +(_Enter_ BELINDA _through swing doors B.C_.) + +BELINDA. Why, it's Mr. Devenish! + +(DEVENISH _rises and kisses her hand somewhat sheepishly_.) + +How nice of you to come so early in the morning! How is Mr. Baxter! + +DEVENISH (_annoyed and crossing behind_ BELINDA _to her_ L.). +I do not know, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_coming down to_ DELIA _and sitting in the place vacated +by DEVENISH_). I got most of the things, Delia. (_To_ DEVENISH.) +"The things," Mr. Devenish, is my rather stuffy way of referring to all +the delightful poems that you are going to eat to-night. + +DEVENISH. I am looking forward to it immensely, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA. I do hope I've got all your and Mr. Baxter's favourite dishes. + +DEVENISH (_annoyed and, moving to_ L. _foot of table_ C.). I'm +afraid Mr. Baxter and I are not likely to appreciate the same things. + +BELINDA (_coyly_). Oh, Mr. Devenish! And you were so unanimous a +few days ago. + +DELIA. I think Mr. Devenish was referring entirely to things to eat. + +BELINDA. I felt quite sad when I was buying the lamb cutlets. To think +that, only a few days before, they had been frisking about with their +mammas, and having poems written about them by Mr. Devenish. There! I'm +giving away the whole dinner. Delia, take him away before I tell him +any more. + +(DELIA _rises, goes to table and picks up water carafe which she +replaces on refectory table up_ L.) + +We must keep some surprises for him. + +DELIA (_to_ DEVENISH _as she crosses back to table_ R. _and +picks up the flowers_). Come along, Mr. Devenish. + +BELINDA (_wickedly_). Are those my flowers, Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH (_advancing to_ BELINDA _and laughing awkwardly, after a +little hesitation, with a bow which might refer to either of them_). +They are for the most beautiful lady in the land. + +BELINDA. Oh, how nice of you! + +(DEVENISH _crosses to door_ R. _and opens it for_ DELIA, +_who follows him and exits_. DEVENISH, _standing above door, +catches BELINDA'S eye and with an awkward laugh follows_ DELIA.) + +BELINDA. I suppose he means Delia--bless them! (_She kisses her hand +towards the door_ R. _She then rises and crosses below the +table_ C., _placing her basket on the_ L. _end of it, to the +fireplace. She rings the bell. Then she moves up on the_ R. _side +of the Chesterfield to the refectory table and takes off her hat. She +takes up a mirror from the table and gives a few pats to her hair, and +as she is doing so BETTY enters from door_ R. _and crosses the room +towards_ C.) + +BELINDA (_pointing to basket on the_ C. _table_). Oh, Betty-- + +(BETTY _moves to back of_ C. _table and takes up the basket. +Crosses above settee and exits through door_ R. BELINDA _is moving +towards the swing doors when she catches sight of_ BAXTER _entering +from the garden up_ R. _She moves quickly to the_ L. _of_ C. _table, +takes up a book and going to Chesterfield_ L., _lies down with her +head to_ R. BAXTER _looks in through the window up_ R., _then crosses +round and enters through the portico and the swing doors_. BELINDA +_pretends to be very busy reading_.) + +BAXTER (_rather nervously, in front of wring doors_). Er--may I +come in, Mrs. Tremayne? + +BELINDA (_dropping her book and turning round with a violent +start_). Oh, Mr. Baxter, how you surprised me! (_She puts her hand +to her heart and sits up and faces him_.) + +BAXTER. I must apologize for intruding upon you at this hour, Mrs. +Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_holding up her hand_). Stop! + +BAXTER (_startled_). What? + +BELINDA. I cannot let you come in like that. + +BAXTER (_looking down at himself_). Like what? + +BELINDA (_dropping her eyes_). You called me Belinda once. + +BAXTER (_coming down to her_). May I explain my position, Mrs. +Tremayne? + +BELINDA. Before you begin--have you been seeing my niece lately? + +BAXTER (_surprised_). No. + +BELINDA. Oh! (_Sweetly_.) Please go on. + +BAXTER. Why, is _she_ lost too? + +BELINDA. Oh no; I just---- Do sit down. + +(BAXTER _moves to the chair_ L. _of_ C. _table and sits_. +BELINDA _rises when he has sat down_.) + +Let me put your hat down somewhere for you. + +BAXTER (_keeping it firmly in his hand_). It will be all right +here, thank you. + +BELINDA (_returning to the Chesterfield and sitting_). I'm dying to +hear what you are going to say. + +BAXTER. First as regards the use of your Christian name. I felt that, as +a man of honour, I could not permit myself to use it until I had +established my right over that of Mr. Devenish. + +BELINDA. All my friends call me Belinda. + +BAXTER. As between myself and Mr. Devenish the case is somewhat +different. Until one of us is successful over the other in the quest +upon which you have sent us, I feel that as far as possible we should +hold aloof from you. + +BELINDA (_pleadingly_). Just say "Belinda" once more, in case +you're a long time. + +BAXTER (_very formally_). Belinda. + +BELINDA. How nicely you say it--Harold. + +BAXTER (_getting out of his seat_). Mrs. Tremayne, I must not +listen to this. + +BELINDA (_meekly_). I won't offend again, Mr. Baxter. Please go on. +(_She motions him to sit--he does so_.) Tell me about the quest; +are you winning? + +BAXTER. I am progressing, Mrs. Tremayne. Indeed, I came here this +morning to acquaint you with the results of my investigations. +(_Clears his throat_.) Yesterday I located a man called Robinson +working upon a farm close by. I ventured to ask him if he had any marks +upon him by which he could be recognized. He adopted a threatening +attitude, and replied that if I wanted any he could give me some. With +the aid of half-a-crown I managed to placate him. Putting my inquiry in +another form, I asked if he had any moles. A regrettable +misunderstanding, which led to a fruitless journey to another part of +the village, was eventually cleared up, and on my return I satisfied +myself that this man was in no way related to your niece. + +BELINDA (_admiringly_). How splendid of you! + +BAXTER. Yes. + +BELINDA. Well, now, we know _he's_ not. (_She holds up one +finger_.) + +BAXTER. Yes. In the afternoon I located another Mr. Robinson following +the profession of a carrier. My first inquiries led to a similar result, +with the exception that in this case Mr. Robinson carried his +threatening attitude so far as to take off his coat and roll up his +sleeves. Perceiving at once that he was not the man, I withdrew. + +BELINDA. How brave you are! + +BAXTER. Yes. + +BELINDA. That makes two. + +BAXTER. Yea. + +BELINDA (_holding up another finger_). It still leaves a good many. +(_Pleadingly_.) Just call me Belinda again. + +BAXTER (_rising and backing to_ R. _a little, nervously_). You +mustn't tempt me, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_penitently_). I won't! + +BAXTER (_going slowly to fireplace and placing his hat down on +armchair below fireplace_). To resume, then, my narrative. This +morning I have heard of a third Mr. Robinson. Whether there is actually +any particular fortune attached to the number three I cannot say for +certain. It is doubtful whether statistics would be found to support the +popular belief. But one likes to flatter oneself that in one's own case +it may be true; and so-- + +BELINDA. And so the third Mr. Robinson--? + +BAXTER. Something for which I cannot altogether account inspires me with +hope. He is, I have discovered, staying at Mariton. This afternoon I go +to look for him. + +BELINDA (_to herself_). Mariton! How funny! I wonder if it's the +same one. + +BAXTER. What one? + +BELINDA. Oh, just one of the ones. (_Gratefully_.) Mr. Baxter, you +are doing all this for _me_. + +BAXTER. Pray do not mention it. I don't know if it's Devonshire +(_going to and sitting_ L. _of_ BELINDA), or the time of the +year, or the sort of atmosphere you create, Mrs. Tremayne, but I feel an +entirely different man. There is something in the air which--yes, I +shall certainly go over to Mariton this afternoon. + +BELINDA (_gravely_). I have had the same feeling sometimes, Mr. +Baxter. I am not always the staid respectable matron which I appear to +you to be. Sometimes I--(_She looks absently at the watch on her +wrist_.) Good gracious! + +BAXTER (_alarmed_). What is it! + +BELINDA (_looking anxiously from the door to him_). Mr. Baxter, I'm +going to throw myself on your mercy. + +BAXTER. My dear Mrs. Tremayne-- + +BELINDA (_looking at her watch again, rising and moving up_ L.C., +_looking at door_). A strange man will be here directly. He must not +find you with me. + +BAXTER (_rising, jealously_). A man? + +BELINDA (_excitedly_). Yes, yes, a man! He is pursuing me with his +attentions. If he found you here, there would be a terrible scene. + +BAXTER. I will defend you from him. + +BELINDA (_crossing down to_ R. _of Chesterfield_). No, no. He +is a big man. He will--he will overpower you. (_Moving_ L. _a +little and looking out of windows_.) + +BAXTER. But you----! + +BELINDA. I can defend myself. I will send him away. But he must not find +you here. You must hide before he overpowers you. + +BAXTER (_with dignity, crossing below table to_ R.). I will +withdraw if you wish it. BELINDA (_following to_ R. _at back of +table_ C.). No, not withdraw, hide. He might see you withdrawing. +(_Leading the way to the cupboard door_.) Quick, in here. + +BAXTER (_embarrassed at the thought that this sort of thing really +only happens in a bedroom farce and moving towards her_). I don't +think I quite---- + +BELINDA (_reassuring him_). It's perfectly respectable; it's where +we keep the umbrellas. (_She takes him by the hand_.) + +BAXTER (_resisting and looking nervously into the cupboard_). I'm +not at all sure that I---- + +BELINDA (_earnestly_). Oh, but don't you see what _trust_ I'm +putting in you? (_To herself_.) Some people are so nervous about +their umbrellas. + +BAXTER. Well, of course, if you--but I don't see why I shouldn't just +slip out of the door before he comes. + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Of course, if you grudge me every little +pleasure----(_Crossing in front of_ BAXTER _towards swing doors +and seeing_ TREMAYNE _coming_.) Quick! Here he is. + +(_She bundles him through the cupboard door and closes it and with a +sign of happiness crosses down to_ C. _table. She sees _BAXTER'S +_bowler hat on the arm-chair below the fireplace. She fetches and +carries it over to the cupboard door, knocks and hands it to him, +saying, _"Your hat!") + +BAXTER (_expostulating and nearly knocking her over as he comes +out_). Well, really I---- + +BELINDA (_bundling him into the cupboard and closing the door_). +Hush! + +(BELINDA _straightens her hair, takes up her book from_ L. +_of_ C. _table and sits, stroking the head of the toy dog and +pretending to read_. TREMAYNE _enters from garden up_ R. _and +through the swing doors up_ R.C. BELINDA _gives an assumed cry of +surprise_.) + +TREMAYNE (_at the swing doors_). It's no good your pretending to be +surprised, because you said I could come. (_Coming down to the back of +the table_ C. _and putting down his hat_.) + +BELINDA (_rising, shaking hands and welcoming him_). But I can +still be surprised that you wanted to come. + +TREMAYNE Oh no, you aren't. + +BELINDA (_marking it off on her fingers_). Just a little bit--that +much. + +TREMAYNE. It would be much more surprising if I hadn't come. + +BELINDA (_crossing to the Chesterfield, picking up her book and +handing it to_ TREMAYNE, _who puts it on the table_). It is a +pretty garden, isn't it? (_She sits on_ R. _end of Chesterfield_.) + +TREMAYNE (_coming to her_). You forget that I saw the garden +yesterday. + +BELINDA. Oh, but the things have grown so much since then. Let me see, +this is the third day you've been and we only met three days ago. (_He +moves behind the Chesterfield to the left end of it_.) And then +you're coming to dinner again to-night. + +TREMAYNE (_eagerly and leaning over the Chesterfield_). Am I? + +BELINDA. Yes. Haven't you been asked? + +TREMAYNE (_going round the left end of the Chesterfield_). No, not +a word. + +BELINDA. Yes, that's quite right; I remember now, I only thought of it +this morning, so I couldn't ask you before, could I? + +TREMAYNE (_earnestly_). What made you think of it then? + +BELINDA (_romantically_). It was at the butcher's. + +TREMAYNE. Eh? + +BELINDA. There was one little lamb cutlet left over and sitting out all +by itself, and there was nobody to love it. And I said to myself, +suddenly, "I know, that will do for Mr. Robinson." (_Protaically_.) +I do hope you like lamb? + +TREMAYNE (_sitting on her left side_). I adore it. + +BELINDA. Oh, I'm so glad I When I saw it sitting there I thought you'd +love it. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more about the rest of the +dinner, because I wouldn't tell Mr. Devenish, and I want to be fair. + +TREMAYNE (_jealously_). Who's Mr. Devenish? + +BELINDA. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here. + +TREMAYNE Is he in love with you too? + +BELINDA. Too? Oh, you mean Mr. Baxter? + +TREMAYNE (_rising and moving to fireplace_). Confound it, that's +three! + +BELINDA (_innocently_). Three? (_She looks up at him and down +again_.) + +TREMAYNE. Who is Mr. Baxter? + +BELINDA. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here. + +TREMAYNE (_turning away and looking into fireplace_). Who is Mr. +Baxter? + +(BAXTER _appears at cupboard doorway_. BELINDA _hears him and +gives a startled look round. She signs to him to go back. BAXTER +retreats immediately and closes door_.) + +BELINDA. Oh, he's a sort of statistician. Isn't that a horrid word to +say? So stishany. + +TREMAYNE. What does he make statistics about? + +BELINDA. Oh (_giving a sly look round at cupboard door_), umbrellas +and things. Don't let's talk about him. + +TREMAYNE. All right, then; (_going up to her jealously_) who is Mr. +Devenish? + +BELINDA. Oh, he's a poet. (_She throws up her eyes and sighs +deeply_.) Ah me! + +TREMAYNE. What does he write poetry about? + +(BELINDA _looks at him, and down again, and then at him again, and +then down, then raises and drops her arms, and gives a little sigh--all +of which means, "Can't you guess?"_) + +What does he write poetry about? + +BELINDA (_obediently_). He wrote "The Lute of Love and other Poems, +by Claude Devenish." + +(TREMAYNE _is annoyed and turns away to the fireplace_.) + +The Lute of Love--(_To herself_.) I haven't been saying that +lately. (_With great expression_.) The Lute of Love--the Lute. +(_She pats her mouth back_.) + +TREMAYNE. And who is Mr. Devenish--! + +BELINDA (_putting her hand on his sleeve_). You'll let me know when +it's my turn, won't you? + +TREMAYNE. Your turn? + +BELINDA. Yes, to ask questions. I love this game--it's just like clumps. +(_She crosses her hands on her lap and waits for the next +question_.) + +TREMAYNE. I beg your pardon. I--er--of course have no right to +cross-examine you like this. + +BELINDA. Oh, do go on, I love it. (_With childish excitement_.) +I've got my question ready. + +TREMAYNE (_smiling and going and sitting beside her again_). I +think perhaps it _is_ your turn. + +BELINDA (_eagerly_). Is it really? (_He nods_.) Well then-- +(_in a loud voice_)--who is Mr. Robinson? + +TREMAYNE (_alarmed_). What? + +BELINDA. I think it's a fair question. I met you three days ago and you +told me you were staying at Mariton. Mariton. You can say it all right +now, can't you? + +TREMAYNE. I think so. + +BELINDA (_coaxingly_). Just say it. + +TREMAYNE. Mariton. + +BELINDA (_clapping her hands_). Lovely! I don't think any of the +villagers do it as well as that. + +TREMAYNE. Well? + +BELINDA (_looking very hard at TREMAYNE--he wonders whether she has +discovered his identity_). Well, that was three days ago. You came +the next day to see the garden, and you came the day after to see the +garden, and you've come this morning--to see the garden; and you're +coming to dinner to-night, and it's so lovely, we shall simply have to +go into the garden afterwards. And all I know about you is that you +haven't any relations called Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. What do I know about Mrs. Tremayne but that she has a relation +called Robinson? + +BELINDA. And two dear friends called Devenish and Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_rising--annoyed_). I was forgetting them. (_Crosses to +below_ L. _end of_ C. _table_.) + +BELINDA (_to herself, with a sly look round at the cupboard_), I +mustn't forget Mr. Baxter. + +TREMAYNE. But what does it matter? What would it matter if I knew +nothing about you? (_Moving up to_ R. _end of Chesterfield and +leaning over it_.) I know everything about you--everything that +matters. + +BELINDA (_leaning back and closing her eyes contentedly_). Tell me +some of them. TREMAYNE (_bending over her earnestly_). Belinda-- + +BELINDA (_still with her eyes shut_). He's going to propose to me. +I can feel it coming. + +TREMAYNE (_starting back_). Confound it! how many men _have_ +proposed to you? + +BELINDA (_surprised_). Since when? + +TREMAYNE. Since your first husband proposed to you. + +BELINDA. Oh, I thought you meant this year. (_Sitting up_.) Well +now, let me see. (_Slowly and thoughtfully_.) One. (_She pushes +up her first finger_.) Two. (_She pushes up the second_.) Three. +(_She pushes up the third finger, holds it there for a moment and then +pushes it gently down again_.) No, I don't think that one ought to +count really. (_She pushes up two more fingers and the thumb_.) Three, +four, five--do you want the names or just the total? + +TREMAYNE (_moving up_ L. _and then over_ R.). This is horrible. + +BELINDA (_innocently_). But anybody can propose. Now if you'd asked +how many I'd accepted-- + +(_He turns sharply to her--annoyed_.) + +Let me see, where was I up to? + +(_He moves down_ R.) + +I shan't count yours, because I haven't really had it yet. + +(BETTY _enters down_ R. _and stands behind settee_.) + +Six, seven--Yes, Betty, what is it? + +BETTY. If you please, ma'am, cook would like to speak to you for a +minute. + +(TREMAYNE _goes up_ R.C.) + +BELINDA (_getting up_). Yes, I'll come. + +(BETTY _goes out, leaving the door open_. BELINDA _crosses Before +the table_.) + +(_To_ TREMAYNE.) You'll forgive me, won't you? You'll find some +cigarettes there. (_Points to table up_ R. TREMAYNE _moves by the +back of the settee and holds the door for_ BELINDA. _She turns to him +in the doorway_.) It's probably about the lamb cutlets; I expect your +little one refuses to be cooked. + +(_She goes out after_ BETTY.) + +(_Left alone_ TREMAYNE _stalks moodily about the room, crossing +it and kicking things which come in his way. Violently, he kicks a +hassock which is above the table_ R. _to under the table_ C., +_then he takes up his hat and moves towards the swing doors and half +opens them. He pauses and considers--then he comes down to the centre +table, throws down his hat, moves round the left end of the table, finds +the dog in the way and then sits on the table with his hands in his +pockets, facing the audience. As he has been moving about the room, he +has muttered the names of_ BAXTER _and_ DEVENISH.) + +DEVENISH (_entering from the door_ R., _which he closes and goes +to foot of the settee R.--surprised_). Hullo! + +(_A pause_.) + +TREMAYNE (_jealously, and rising_). Are you Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH. Yes. + +TREMAYNE. Devenish the poet? + +DEVENISH (_coming up and shaking him warmly by the hand_). My dear +fellow, you know my work? + +TREMAYNE (_grimly_). My dear Mr. Devenish, your name is most +familiar to me. + +DEVENISH. I congratulate you. I thought your great-grand-children would +be the first to hear of me. + +TREMAYNE (_moving to_ L.). My name's Robinson, by the way. + +DEVENISH (_connecting him with_ DELIA). Then let me return the +compliment, Robinson. Your name is familiar to me. + +TREMAYNE (_hastily, and going towards_ DEVENISH). I don't think I'm +related to any Robinsons you know. + +DEVENISH (_dubiously_). Well, no, I suppose not. When I was very +much younger I began a collection of Robinsons. Actually it was only +three days ago, but it seems much longer. (_Thinking of_ DELIA.) +Many things have happened since then. + +TREMAYNE (_uninterested, moving_ L.) Really! + +DEVENISH. There is a man called Baxter--(TREMAYNE _displays his +jealousy of_ BAXTER.) who is still collecting, I believe. For myself, +I am only interested in one of the great family--Delia. + +TREMAYNE (_eagerly, and going quickly to him and placing his hand on +DEVENISH'S left shoulder_). You are interested in _her_? + +DEVENISH. Devotedly. In fact, I am at this moment waiting for her to put +on her hat. + +TREMAYNE (_warmly, banging him on the shoulder with both hands_). +My dear Devenish, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. (_He +seizes his hand and grips it heartily_.) How are you? +(DEVENISH _backs to the settee in pain_.) + +DEVENISH (_sitting on settee, feeling his fingers_). Fairly well, +thanks. + +TREMAYNE (_sitting above him and banging him on the back_). That's +right. + +DEVENISH (_still nursing his hand_). You are a very lucky fellow, +Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. In what way? + +DEVENISH. People you meet must be so very reluctant to say good-bye to +you. Have you ever tried strangling lions or anything like that? + +TREMAYNE (_with a laugh_). Well, as a matter of fact, I have. + +DEVENISH. I suppose you won all right? + +TREMAYNE. In the end, with the help of my beater. + +DEVENISH. Personally I should have backed you alone against any two +ordinary lions. + +TREMAYNE. One was quite enough. As it was, he gave me something to +remember him by. (_Putting up his left sleeve, he displays a deep +scar_.) + +DEVENISH (_looking at it casually_). By Jove, that's a nasty one! +(_He suddenly catches sight of the mole and stares at it fascinated, +then stares up at_ TREMAYNE.) Good heavens! + +TREMAYNE. What's the matter? + +DEVENISH (_clasping his head_). Wait. (_Rising and moving up to +L. of_ TREMAYNE.) Let me think. (_After a pause_.) Have you +ever met a man called Baxter? + +TREMAYNE. No. + +DEVENISH. Would you like to? + +TREMAYNE (_grimly_). Very much indeed. + +DEVENISH. He's the man I told you about who's interested in Robinsons. +He'll be delighted to meet you. (_With a nervous laugh_.) Funny +thing, he's rather an authority on lions. You must show him that scar +of yours; it will intrigue him immensely. (_Earnestly_.) +_Don't_ shake hands with him too heartily just at first; it might +put him off the whole thing. + +TREMAYNE. This Mr. Baxter seems to be a curious man. + +DEVENISH (_absently_). Yes, he is rather odd. (_Looking at his +watch_.) I wonder if I----(_To_ TREMAYNE.) I suppose you won't +be-- (_He stops suddenly. A slight tapping noise comes from the room +where they keep umbrellas_.) + +TREMAYNE. What's that! + +(_The tapping noise is repeated, a little more loudly this time. +DEVENISH moves to end of table_.) + +DEVENISH. Come in. + +(_The door opens and_ BAXTER _comes in nervously, holding his +bowler hat in his hand. He moves towards the swing doors_.) + +BAXTER (_apologetically_). Oh, I just--(TREMAYNE _stands up_) +--I just--(_He goes back again_.) + +DEVENISH (_springing across the room_). Baxter! + +(_The door opens nervously again and BAXTER'S head appears round it_.) + +Come in, Baxter, old man; you're just the very person I wanted. + +(BAXTER _comes in carefully_. DEVENISH _closes the door_.) + +Good man. (_To_ TREMAYNE, _taking_ BAXTER _down_ R., +_and placing his arm round his shoulders_.) This is Mr. Baxter that +I was telling you about. + +(BAXTER _removes_ DEVENISH'S _arm from his shoulders_.) + +TREMAYNE (_moving up to_ BAXTER _and much relieved at the +appearance of his rival_). Oh, is this Mr. Baxter? (_Holding out +his hand with great friendliness_.) How are you, Mr. Baxter? + +DEVENISH (_warningly_). Steady! + +(TREMAYNE _shakes_ BAXTER _quite gently by the hand_.) + +Baxter, this is Mr. Robinson. (_Casually_.) R-o-b-i-n-s-o-n. (_He +looks sideways at_ BAXTER _to see how he takes it_. BAXTER _is +noticeably impressed_.) + +BAXTER. Really? I am very glad to meet you, sir. + +TREMAYNE. Very good of you to say so. + +DEVENISH (_to_ BAXTER, _taking his arm_. BAXTER _is annoyed +and gets free_). Robinson is a great big-game hunter. + +BAXTER (_moving down to_ TREMAYNE). Indeed? I have never done +anything in that way myself, but I'm sure it must be an absorbing +pursuit. + +TREMAYNE. Oh, well, it's something to do. + +DEVENISH (_to_ BAXTER). You must get him to tell you about a +wrestle he had with a lion once. Extraordinary story! (_Looking at his +watch suddenly_.) Jove! I must be off. See you again, Baxter. (_He +bangs_ BAXTER _on the shoulder and moves down to_ TREMAYNE.) +Good-bye, Robinson. No, don't shake hands. I'm in a hurry. (_He looks +at his watch again and goes out hurriedly by the door on the_ R.) + +(TREMAYNE _sits on settee_ R. _and_ BAXTER _on chair_ R. +_of_ C. _table. He puts his hat on the table_.) + +TREMAYNE. Unusual man, your friend Devenish. I suppose it comes of being +a poet. + +BAXTER. I have no great liking for Mr. Devenish-- + +TREMAYNE. Oh, he's all right. + +BAXTER. But I am sure that if he is impressed by anything outside +himself or his own works, it must be something rather remarkable. Pray +tell me of your adventure with the lion. + +TREMAYNE (_laughing_). Really, you mustn't think that I go about +telling everybody my adventures. It just happened to come up. I'm afraid +I shook his hand rather more warmly than I meant, and he asked me if I'd +ever tried strangling lions. That was all. + +BAXTER. And had you? + +TREMAYNE. Well, it just happened that I had. + +BAXTER. Indeed! You came off scatheless, I trust? + +TREMAYNE (_carelessly indicating his arm_). Well, he got me one +across there. + +BAXTER (_rising and coming to above_ TREMAYNE, _obviously +excited_). Really, really. (_Points to his arm_.) One across +there. Not bad, I hope? + +TREMAYNE (_laughing_). Well, it doesn't show unless I do that. +(_He pulls up his sleeve carelessly and_ BAXTER _bends eagerly +over his arm and sees the mole and very slowly looks up at_ TREMAYNE, +_then down at the arm again, then up at_ TREMAYNE.) + +BAXTER. Good heavens! I've found it! (_He runs over to the table and +picks up his hat_.) + +TREMAYNE. Found what? (_He pulls down his sleeve_.) + +BAXTER (_going up_ L.). I must see Mrs. Tremayne. Where's Mrs. +Tremayne? + +TREMAYNE. She went out just now. What's the matter? + +BAXTER. Out! I must find her. This is a matter of life and death. (_He +hurries through the swing doors_.) Mrs. Tremayne! Mrs. Tremayne! +(_He exits_ R. _through the garden_.) + +(TREMAYNE _rises and moves to the swing doors, stares after him in +amazement. Then he pulls up his sleeve, looks at his scar again and +shakes his head. While he is still puzzling over it_, BELINDA +_comes back_ R.) + +BELINDA (_crossing below settee_). Such a to-do in the kitchen! The +cook's given notice--at least she will directly--(_up to_ +TREMAYNE)--and your lamb cutlet slipped back to the shop when nobody was +looking + +(TREMAYNE _looks off at swing doors_) + +and I've got to go into the village again, (_going to the refectory +table and getting her hat_) and ok dear, oh dear, I have such a lot +of things to do! (_Looking across at MR. BAXTER'S door_.) Oh yes, +that's another one. (_Coming back to table_ C. _and putting down +her hat on R. side_.) + +TREMAYNE. Belinda-- (_Moving up to her_.) + +BELINDA. No, not even Belinda. Wait till this evening. + +TREMAYNE. I have a thousand things to say to you; I shall say them this +evening. + +BELINDA (_giving him her hand_). Begin about eight o'clock. Good-bye +till then. + +(_He takes her hand, looks at her for a moment, then suddenly bends +and kisses it, takes up his hat and hurries through the swing doors and +off through the garden to_ L.) + +(BELINDA _stands looking from her hand to him, gives a little +wondering exclamation and then presses the back of her hand against her +cheek, and goes to the swing doors. She turns back, and remembers_ MR. +BAXTER _again. With a smile she goes to the door and taps gently_.) + +BELINDA. Mr. Baxter, Mr. Baxter, you may come in now; he has withdrawn. +(_Moves down a little and then back to_ L. _of the door again_.) +Mr. Baxter, I have unhanded him. (_She opens the door and going in, +finds the room empty_.) Oh! + +(BAXTER _comes quickly through the swing doors_.) + +BAXTER (_meeting_ BELINDA _coming out of the cupboard_). Ah, +(_they both start_) there you are! (_Crossing down to_ R. _end of_ +C. _table, he puts down his hat_.) + +BELINDA (_turning with a start_). Oh, how you frightened me, Mr. +Baxter! I couldn't think what had happened to you. (_She closes the +door_.) I thought perhaps you'd been eaten up by one of the +umbrellas. + +BAXTER. Mrs. Tremayne, I have some wonderful news for you. I have found +Miss Robinson's father. + +BELINDA (_on his_ L., _hardly understanding_). Miss Robinson's +father? + +BAXTER. Yes. _Mr_. Robinson. + +BELINDA. Oh, you mean--(_Points to direction when TREMAYNE has +gone_.) Oh yes, he told me his name was Robinson--Oh, but he's no +relation. + +BAXTER. Wait! I saw his arm. By a subterfuge I managed to see his arm. + +BELINDA (_her eyes opening more and more widely as she begins to +realize_). You saw-- + +BAXTER. I saw the mole. + +BELINDA (_coming down to him faintly as she holds out her own +arm_). Show me. + +BAXTER (_very decorously indicating_). There! + +(BELINDA _holds the place with her other hand, and still looking +at_ MR. BAXTER, _slowly begins to laugh--half-laughter, half-tears, +wonderingly, happily, contentedly_.) + +BELINDA (_moving to_ R. _of table and sitting_). And I didn't +know! + +BAXTER (_moving to back of table_). Mrs. Tremayne, I am delighted +to have done this service for your niece---- + +BELINDA (_to herself_). Of course, _he_ knew all the time. + +BAXTER (_to the world_). Still more am I delighted to have gained +the victory over Mr. Devenish in this enterprise. + +BELINDA. Eighteen years--but I _ought_ to have known. + +BAXTER (_at large_). I shall not be accused of exaggerating when I +say that the odds against such an enterprise were enormous. + +BELINDA. Eighteen years---- And now I've eight whole _hours_ to +wait! + +BAXTER (_triumphantly_). It will be announced to-night. "Mr. +Devenish," I shall say, "young fellow----" (_He arranges his speech in +his mind_.) + +BELINDA (_nodding to herself mischievously_). So I was right, after +all! (_Slowly and triumphantly_.) He _does_ look better without +a beard! + +BAXTER (_with his hand on the back of the chair on the_ L. _side +of the table_). "Mr. Devenish, young fellow, when you matched yourself +against a man of my repute, when you matched yourself against a man-- +matched yourself against a man of my repute (_crossing towards +fireplace_) + +(BELINDA _rises stealthily, takes up her hat and exits through the +swing doors and through the garden up_ R.) + +when you matched yourself against a man who has read papers (_moving +towards centre table_) at Soirees of the Royal Statistical Society----" +(_Looking round the room, he discovers that he is alone. He picks up +his hat from the table and jams it down on his head_.) Unusual! + +(_He moves up towards the swing doors_.) + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III + + + +_It is after dinner in BELINDA'S hall. The log fire, chandelier and +wall brackets are all alight_. BELINDA _is lying on the Chesterfield +with a coffee-cup in her hand_. DELIA, _in the chair down_ L. _below +the fireplace, has picked up "The Lute of Love" from a table and is +reading it impatiently. She also has a coffee-cup in her hand_. + +DELIA (_throwing the book away_). What rubbish he writes! + +BELINDA (_coming back from her thoughts_). Who, dear? + +DELIA. Claude + +(BELINDA _gives her a quick look of surprise_.) + +--Mr. Devenish. (_She rises and stands by the fireplace with her cup +in her hand_.) Of course, he's very young. + +BELINDA. So was Keats, darling. + +DELIA. I don't think Claude has had Keats' advantages. Keats started +life as an apothecary. + +BELINDA. So much nicer than a chemist. + +DELIA. Now, Claude started with nothing to do. + +BELINDA (_mildly_). Do you always call him Claude, darling? I hope +you aren't going to grow into a flirt like that horrid Mrs. Tremayne. + +DELIA. Silly mother! (_She moves to_ BELINDA, _takes her cup, +then crosses to the table and places both the cups on the table-- +seriously_.) I don't think he'll ever be any good till he really gets +work. Did you notice his hair this evening? + +BELINDA (_dreamily_). Whose, dear? + +DELIA (_going to the back of the Chesterfield and to the_ L. _of_ +BELINDA). Mummy, look me in the eye and tell me you are not being bad. + +BELINDA (_having playfully turned her head away and hidden her face +with her handkerchief, says innocently_). Bad, darling? + +DELIA (_moving down to the front of the fireplace_). You've made +Mr. Robinson fall in love with you. + +BELINDA (_happily_). Have I? + +DELIA. Yes; it's serious this time. He's not like the other two. + +BELINDA. However did you know that? + +DELIA. Oh, I know. + +BELINDA. Darling, I believe you've grown up. It's quite time I settled +down. + +DELIA. With Mr. Robinson? + +(BELINDA _sits up and looks thoughtfully at_ DELIA _for a little +time_.) + +BELINDA (_mysteriously_). Delia, are you prepared for a great +secret to be revealed to you? + +DELIA (_childishly and jumping on to the_ L. _arm of the +Chesterfield facing_ BELINDA). Oh, I love secrets. + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Darling, you mustn't take it like that. +This is a great, deep, dark secret; you'll probably need your sal +volatile. + +DELIA (_excitedly_). Go on! + +BELINDA. Well---- (_Looking round the room_.) Shall we have the +lights down a little? + +DELIA. Go on, mummy. + +BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is--(_impressively_)--is not quite the +Robinson he appears to be. + +DELIA. Yes? + +BELINDA. In fact, child, he is---- Darling, hadn't you better come and +hold your mother's hand? + +DELIA (_struggling with some emotion and placing her hand on_ +BELINDA'S _arm, who playfully smacks it_). Go on. + +BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is a--sort of relation of yours; in fact-- +(_playing with her rings and looking down coyly_)--he is your-- +father. (_She looks up at_ DELIA _to see how the news is being +received_.) (DELIA _gives a happy laugh_.) + +Dear one, this is not a matter for mirth. + +DELIA. Darling, it is lovely, isn't it? (_Sliding down to the seat of +the Chesterfield next to_ BELINDA, _who moves along to make room +for her_.) I am laughing because I am so happy. + +BELINDA. Aren't you surprised? + +DELIA. No. You see, Claude told me this morning. (BELINDA _displays +annoyance_.) He found out just before Mr. Baxter. + +BELINDA. Well! Every one seems to have known except me. + +DELIA. Didn't you see how friendly father and I got at dinner? I thought +I'd better start breaking the ice--because I suppose he'll be kissing me +directly. + +BELINDA. Say you like him. + +DELIA. I think he's going to be awfully nice. (_She kisses_ BELINDA +_and rises_.) Does he _know_ you know? + +BELINDA. Not yet. + +DELIA. Oh! (_She moves to the fireplace and warms her hands_.) + +BELINDA. Just at present I've rather got Mr. Baxter on my mind. I +suppose, darling, you wouldn't like him as well as Mr. Devenish! +(_Pathetically_.) You see, they're so used to going about together. + +DELIA. Claude is quite enough. + +BELINDA. I think I must see Mr. Baxter and get it over. Do you mind if I +have Mr. Devenish too? I feel more at home with both of them. I'll give +you him back. Oh dear, I feel so happy to-night! (_She jumps up and +goes to_ DELIA.) And is my little girl going to be happy too? That's +what mothers always say on the stage. I think it's so sweet. + +(_They move together to below table_.) + +DELIA (_smiling at her_). Yes, I think so, mummy. Of course, I'm +not romantic like you. I expect I'm more like father, really. + +BELINDA (_dreamily_). Jack can be romantic now. He was telling me +this morning all about the people he has proposed to. I mean, I was +telling him. Anyhow, he wasn't a bit like a father. Of course, he +doesn't know he is a father yet. Darling, I think you might take him +into the garden; only don't let him know who he is. You see, he ought to +propose to me first, oughtn't he? + +(_The men come in from_ R. TREMAYNE _goes to the foot of the +settee R., DEVENISH to the back of the table up_ R., _while_ +BAXTER _stands at the back of the settee_. BELINDA _moves to the +front of the settee and DELIA sits on the table_.) + +Here you all are! I do hope you haven't been throwing away your cigars, +because smoking is allowed all over the house. + +TREMAYNE (_as he comes to the foot of the settee_). Oh, we've +finished, thank you. + +BELINDA (_going up to the swing doors and opening them_). Isn't it +a wonderful night?--and so warm for April. Delia, you must show Mr. +Robinson the garden by moonlight--it's the only light he hasn't seen it +by. + +DEVENISH (_quickly coming to_ R. _back of table_ C.). I don't +think I've ever seen it by moonlight, Miss Delia. + +BELINDA (_coming down a little_). I thought poets were always +seeing things by moonlight. + +BAXTER (_moving toward_ BELINDA). I was hoping, Mrs. Tremayne, +that--er--perhaps----- + +DELIA (_moving quickly to above_ TREMAYNE _and taking his_ L. +_hand, and pulling him up stage to swing doors_). Come along, Mr. +Robinson. + +(TREMAYNE _looks at_ BELINDA, _who gives him a nod_. BELINDA +_then moves down_ R.) + +TREMAYNE (L. _of_ DELIA). It's very kind of you, Miss Robinson. I +suppose there is no chance of a nightingale? + +BELINDA. There ought to be. I ordered one specially for Mr. Devenish. + +(DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE _go out together_. BELINDA, _with a +sigh, moves over to the Chesterfield and settles herself comfortably +into it_. DEVENISH, _annoyed by_ TREMAYNE'S _attentions to_ DELIA, +_crosses up angrily and looks off through the window up_ L. _above +fireplace, then comes down_ L. _of the Chesterfield to the front +of the fireplace_. BAXTER _moves up to the swing doors angrily watching_ +DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE, _then moves to the window_ R. _and looks off_. +BETTY _then enters with a salver from_ R. _She moves by the back of +the settee to the back of the table_ C., _picks up the coffee-cups and +goes out_ R. BAXTER _then moves over to the window facing the audience, +up_ L. _He looks off, then comes down to the_ R. _of_ BELINDA.) + +Now we're together again. Well, Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH. Er--I-- + +BELINDA. No; I think I'll let Mr. Baxter speak first. I know he's +longing to. + +BAXTER (_leaning on the back of the chair_ L. _of table--he +clears his throat_). H'r'm! Mrs. Tremayne, I beg formally to claim +your hand. + +BELINDA (_sweetly_). On what grounds, Mr. Baxter? + +DEVENISH (_spiritedly_). Yes, sir, on what grounds? + +BAXTER (_coming to_ R. _of Chesterfield, close to_ BELINDA). +On the grounds that, as I told you this morning, I had succeeded in the +quest. + +DEVENISH (_appearing to be greatly surprised_). Succeeded? + +BAXTER. Yes, Mr. Devenish, young fellow, you have lost. (_He moves a +few paces_ R. _to below the chair_ L. _of the table_.) I have +discovered the missing Mr. Robinson. + +DEVENISH (_wiping hit brow and coming to_ BAXTER). Who--where-- + +BAXTER (_dramatically_). Miss Robinson has at this moment gone out +with her father. + +DEVENISH (_placing his hands heavily on_ BAXTER'S _shoulders, who +staggers_). Good heavens! It was he! + +(_BAXTER pats_ DEVENISH _sympathetically and moves to the back of +the Chesterfield and is about to speak to_ BELINDA. _She, however, +silences him and he drops down to the front of the fireplace_.) + +BELINDA (_sympathetically_). Poor Mr. Devenish! + +DEVENISH (_pointing tragically to the table_). And to think that I +actually sat on that table--no, that seat (_he points to the +settee_ R., _then he moves up stage between it and the table_)-- +that I sat there with him this morning, and never guessed! Why, ten +minutes ago I was asking him for the nuts! + +BAXTER. Aha, Devenish, you're not so clever as you thought you were. + +DEVENISH (_coming quickly to the back of the chair_ L. _of the +table_). Why, I must have given you the clue myself! He told me he +had a scar on his arm, and I never thought any more of it. And then I +went away innocently and left you two talking about it. + +BELINDA (_alarmed_). A scar on his arm? + +DEVENISH. Where a lion mauled him. + +(BELINDA _gives a little cry and shudder_.) + +BAXTER. It's quite healed up now, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_looking at him admiringly_). A lion! What you two have +adventured for my sake! + +BAXTER. I suppose you will admit, Devenish, that I may fairly claim to +have won? + +(_Looking the picture of despair,_ DEVENISH _drops down_ L. +_of the chair, droops his head, raises his arms and lets them fall +hopelessly to his sides_.) + +BELINDA. Mr. Devenish, I have never admired you so much as I do at this +moment. (_She extends her_ R. _hand to_ DEVENISH, _who gropes +for it with his_ L. _hand and eventually manages to seize it_.) + +BAXTER (_noticing he is holding her hand, moving to them and looking +at them quizzically--indignantly to_ DEVENISH). I say, you know, +that's not fair. It's all very well to take your defeat like a man, but +you mustn't overdo it. (_They release their hands_.) Mrs. Tremayne, +I claim the reward which I have earned. + +BELINDA (_after a pause and rising_). Mr. Baxter--Mr. Devenish, I +have something to tell you. + +(DEVENISH _moves to her_ R.) + +(BELINDA _kneels upon the Chesterfield facing them. Penitently_.) I +have not been quite frank with you. I think you both ought to know that-- +I--I made a mistake. Delia is not my niece; she is my daughter. (_She +buries her face in her hands_.) + +DEVENISH. Your daughter! I say, how ripping! + +(BELINDA _gives him an understanding look_.) + +BAXTER. Your daughter! + +BELINDA. Yes. + +BAXTER. But--but you aren't old enough to have a daughter of that age. + +BELINDA (_apologetically_). Well, there she is. + +BAXTER. But--but she's grown up. + +BELINDA. Quite. + +BAXTER. Then in that case you must be----(_He hesitates, evidently +working it out_.) + +BELINDA (_hastily_). I'm afraid so, Mr. Baxter. + +BAXTER. But this makes a great difference. I had no idea. Why, when I'm +fifty you would be---- + +BELINDA (_sighing_). Yes, I suppose I should. + +BAXTER. And when I'm sixty---- + +BELINDA (_pleadingly to_ DEVENISH). Can't you stop him? + +DEVENISH (_with a threatening gesture_). Look here, Baxter, another +word from you and you'll never _get_ to sixty. + +BAXTER. And then there's Miss--er--Delia. In the event of our marrying, +Mrs. Tremayne, she, I take it, would be my step-daughter. + +BELINDA. I don't think she would trouble us much, Mr. Baxter. (_With a +sly look at_ DEVENISH.) I have an idea that she will be getting +married before long. (_She again glances at_ DEVENISH, _who +returns her look gratefully_.) + +BAXTER (_moving up_ L. _into the inner room_). None the less, +the fact would be disturbing. + +(DEVENISH _with a wink at_ BELINDA _crosses in front of her and +warms his hands at the fire_. BELINDA _watches_ BAXTER _over +the back of the Chesterfield_.) + +I have never yet considered myself seriously as a step-father. +(_Moving round the refectory table_.) I don't think I am going too +far if I say that to some extent I have been deceived in this matter. +(_He comes down to behind the_ C. _table_.) + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). And so have I. I thought you loved me. + +DEVENISH (_sympathetically_). Yes, yes. + +BELINDA (_turning to him suddenly_). And Mr. Devenish too. + +BAXTER (_moving to_ BELINDA). Er---- + +DEVENISH. Er---- + +(_They stand before her guiltily and have nothing to say_.) + +BELINDA (_with a shrug_). Well, I shall have to marry somebody +else, that's all. + +BAXTER (_moving to below table_). Who? Who? + +BELINDA. I suppose Mr. Robinson. After all, if I am Delia's mother, and +Mr. Baxter says that Mr. Robinson's her father, it's about time we +_were_ married. + +DEVENISH (_eagerly_). Mrs. Tremayne, what fools we are! He +_is_ your husband all the time! + +BELINDA. Yes. + +BAXTER (_moving up to the_ R. _of_ BELINDA). You've had a +husband all the time? + +BELINDA (_apologetically_). I lost him; it wasn't my fault. + +BAXTER. Really, this is very confusing. I don't know where I am. I +gather--I am to gather, it seems, that you are no longer eligible as a +possible wife? + +BELINDA. I am afraid not, Mr. Baxter. + +BAXTER. But this is very confusing--(_moving towards the swing +doors_)--this is very disturbing to a man of my age. For weeks past I +have been regarding myself as a--a possible benedict. I have--ah--taken +steps. (_Back to the_ L. _end of the_ C. _table_.) Only this morning, +in writing to my housekeeper, I warned her that she might hear at +any moment a most startling announcement. + +DEVENISH (_cheerfully_). Oh, that's all right. That might only mean +that you were getting a new bowler-hat. + +BAXTER (_dropping down_ L.C. _a few steps--suddenly_). Ah, and +what about you, sir? How is it that you take this so lightly? +(_Triumphantly_.) I have it. It all becomes clear to me. You have +transferred your affections to her daughter! + +DEVENISH. Oh, I say, Baxter, this is very crude. + +BELINDA. And why should he not, Mr. Baxter? (_Softly_.) He has made +me very happy. + +BAXTER (_staggered_). He has made you happy, Mrs. Tremayne! + +BELINDA. Very happy. + +BAXTER (_thoughtfully_). Oh! Oh ho! Oh ho! (_He takes a turn up +the room into the inner room, muttering to himself_. BELINDA +_kneels and watches him over the back of the Chesterfield. Then he +comes down again to her_ R. _side_.) Mrs. Tremayne, I have taken +a great resolve. (_Solemnly_.) I also will make you happy. +(_Thumping his heart_.) I also will woo Miss Delia. + +BELINDA. Oh! + +DEVENISH. Look here, Baxter-- + +BAXTER (_suddenly crossing and seizing_ DEVENISH'S _arm and +pulling him towards the siding doors up_ R. _between the Chesterfield +and the table_). Come, we will seek Miss Delia together. + +(BELINDA _seizes_ DEVENISH'S _hand as he is passing and he, clinging +to it, nearly pulls her off the Chesterfield. She is very amused_.) + +It may be that she will send us upon another quest in which I shall +again be victorious. + +(BELINDA _releases her hand and slips down into the Chesterfield. +Tempestuously_.) + +Come, I say-- + +(_He marches the resisting_ DEVENISH _to the swing doors_.) + +Let us put it to the touch, to win or lose it all. + +DEVENISH (_turning and appealing to_ BELINDA). Please! + +BELINDA (_gently_). Mr. Baxter... Harold. + +(BAXTER _stops and turns round_.) + +You are too impetuous. I think that as Delia's mother-- + +BAXTER (_coming down_ R. _to the foot of the_ C. +_table_). Your pardon, Mrs. Tremayne. In the intoxication of the +moment I am forgetting. (_Formally_.) I have the honour to ask your +permission to pay my addresses--(_Moves to chair_ L. _of table_.) + +BELINDA. No, no, I didn't mean that. But, as Delia's mother, I ought to +warn you that she is hardly fitted to take the place of your +housekeeper. She is not very domesticated. + +BAXTER (_indignantly_). Not domesticated? (_Sits_ L. _of +table_.) Why, did I not hear her tell her father at dinner that she +had arranged all the flowers? + +BELINDA. There are other things than flowers. + +DEVENISH (_on_ BAXTER'S R., _behind the table_). Bed-socks, +for instance, Baxter. + +(BAXTER _is annoyed_.) + +It's a very tricky thing airing bed-socks. I am sure your house-keeper-- + +BAXTER (_silencing_ DEVENISH). Mrs. Tremayne, she will learn. The +daughter of such a mother... I need say no more. + +BELINDA. Oh, thank you. But there is something else, Mr. Baxter. You are +not being quite fair to yourself. In starting out upon this simultaneous +wooing, you forget that Mr. Devenish has already had his turn--(DEVENISH +_tries to stop her_. BAXTER _turns round and nearly catches +him_.)--this morning alone. You should have yours ... alone ... too. + +DEVENISH. Oh, I say! + +BAXTER. Yes, yes, you are right. I must introduce myself first as a +suitor. I see that. (_Rising, to_ DEVENISH.) You stay here; +_I_ will go alone into the garden, and--(_Moving below table and +up to the swing doors_.) + +BELINDA. It is perhaps a little cold out of doors for people of ... of +our age, Mr. Baxter. Now, in the library-- + +BAXTER (_at the swing doors, turning to her, astonished_). Library? + +BELINDA. Yes. + +BAXTER (_moving down_ R. _a little_). You have a library? + +BELINDA (_to_ DEVENISH). He doesn't believe I have a library. + +DEVENISH. You ought to see the library, Baxter. + +BAXTER (_moving more down to below_ R. _of table_). But you +are continually springing surprises on me this evening, Mrs. Tremayne. +First a daughter, then a husband, and then--a library! I have been here +three weeks, and I never knew you had a library. Dear me, I wonder how +it is that I never saw it? + +BELINDA (_modestly, rising_). I thought you came to see _me_. + +BAXTER. Yes, yes, to see you, certainly. But if I had known you had a +library .... + +BELINDA. Oh, I am so glad I mentioned it. Wasn't it lucky, Mr. Devenish? + +BAXTER. My work has been greatly handicapped of late. + +(DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE _enter the garden from up_ L. _and +pass the window at the back_.) + +BELINDA (_sweetly_). By me? + +BAXTER. I was about to say by lack of certain books to which I wanted to +refer. It would be a great help. (_He moves up R, reflectively +muttering "Library."_) + +BELINDA (_moving below and to_ R. _of_ C. _table_). My +dear Mr. Baxter, my whole library is at your disposal. (_She turns +to_ DEVENISH, _who is on her_ L., _and at the back of the table. +She speaks in a confidential whisper_.) I'm just going to show him +the Encyclopedia Britannica. (_She moves below the settee to the door_ +R.) You won't mind waiting--Delia will be in directly. + +(BAXTER, _still muttering "Library," crosses to the door and opens it +for her. She goes out and he follows her_. DEVENISH _moves to the +R. of the swing doors and welcomes_ DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE. TREMAYNE +_enters from the portico and holds open the swing doors for_ DELIA.) + +DELIA (_speaking from the portico_). Hullo, we're just coming in. + +(_They enter and_ DELIA _moves down_ R. _of the +table_.) + +TREMAYNE. Where's Mrs. Tremayne? + +DEVENISH (_moving to down_ R.). She's gone to the library with +Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_coming down on_ DELIA'S R. _side--carelessly_). Oh, +the library. Where's that? + +DEVENISH (_promptly going towards the door, opening it and standing +above it_). The end door on the right. + +(DELIA _sits on the_ R. _end of the table facing_ R.) + +Right at the end. You can't mistake it. On the right. + +TREMAYNE. Ah, yes. (_He looks round at_ DELIA, _who points +significantly at the door twice_.) Yes. (_He looks at_ DEVENISH.) +Yes. (_He goes out_.) + +(DEVENISH _hastily shuts the door and comes back to_ DELIA.) + +DEVENISH. I say, your mother is a ripper. + +DELIA (_enthusiastically_). Isn't she! (_Remembering_.) At +least, you mean my aunt? + +DEVENISH (_smiling at her_). No, I mean your mother. To think that +I once had the cheek to propose to her. + +DELIA. Oh! Is it cheek to propose to people! + +DEVENISH. To _her_. + +DELIA. But not to me? + +DEVENISH. Oh I say, Delia! + +DELIA (_with great dignity_). Thank you, my name is Miss Robinson-- +I mean, Tremayne. + +DEVENISH. Well, if you're not quite sure which it is, it's much safer to +call you Delia. + +DELIA (_smiling_). Well, perhaps it is. + +DEVENISH. And if I did propose to you, you haven't answered + +DELIA (_sitting in the chair_ R. _of the table_). If you want +an answer now, it's no; but if you like to wait till next April----- + +DEVENISH (_moving up to behind table--reproachfully_). Oh, I say, +and I cut my hair for you the same afternoon. (_Turning quickly_.) +You haven't really told me how you like it yet. + +DELIA. Oh, how bad of me! You look lovely. + +DEVENISH (_sitting at back of the table_). And I promised to give +up poetry for your sake. + +DELIA. Perhaps I oughtn't to have asked you that. + +DEVENISH. As far as I'm concerned, Delia, I'll do it gladly, but, of +course, one has to think about posterity. + +DELIA. But you needn't be a poet. You could give posterity plenty to +think about if you were a statesman. + +DEVENISH. I don't quite see your objection to poetry. + +DELIA. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every +day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me +all about it. + +DEVENISH. Then you _are_ thinking of marrying me! + +DELIA. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to. + +DEVENISH (_he rises and taking her hands, raises her from the chair. +She backs a step to_ R.). Do. It would be rather fun if you did. And +look here--(_he pulls her gently back. They both sit on the table. He +places his arm round her waist_)--I _will_ be a statesman, if +you like, and go up to Downing Street every day, and come back in the +evening and tell you all about it. + +DELIA. How nice of you! + +DEVENISH (_magnificently, holding up his_ L. _hand to +Heaven_). Farewell, Parnassus! + +DELIA (_pulling down his hand_). What does that mean? + +DEVENISH. Well, it means that I've chucked poetry. A statesman's life +is the life for me; behold Mr. Devenish, the new M.P.--(_she holds up +her_ L. _hand admonishingly and he laughs apologetically _)--no, +look here, that was quite accidental. + +DELIA (_smiling at him_). I believe I shall really like you when I +get to know you. + +DEVENISH. I don't know if it's you, or Devonshire, or the fact that I've +had my hair cut, but I feel quite a different being from what I was +three days ago. + +DELIA. You _are_ different. (_They both rise from the table. She +pulls him to_ R. _one step_.) Perhaps it's your sense of humour +coming back. + +DEVENISH. Perhaps that's it. It's a curious feeling. + +DELIA (_pulling him towards the swing doors_). Let's go outside; +there's a heavenly moon. + +DEVENISH. Moon? Moon? Now where have I heard that word before? + +DELIA. What _do_ you mean? + +DEVENISH. I was trying not to be a poet. + +(DELIA _opens the doors_.) + +Well, I'll come with you, but I shall refuse to look at it. (_Putting +his_ L. _hand behind his back, he walks slowly out with her, saying +to himself_) The Prime Minister then left the House. + +(_They cross the windows at the back and go off_ L.) + +(BELINDA _and_ TREMAYNE _come from the library, the latter +holding the door for her to pass_.) + +BELINDA (_moving below the settee across the room_). Thank you. I +don't think it's unkind to leave him, do you? He seemed quite happy. + +TREMAYNE (_following her_). I shouldn't have been happy if we'd +stayed. + +BELINDA (_reaching the Chesterfield she puts her feet up. Her head it +towards_ L.). Yes, but I was really thinking of Mr. Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_above table_ C.). Not of me? + +BELINDA. Well, I thought it was Mr. Baxter's turn. Poor man, he's had a +disappointment lately. + +TREMAYNE (_coming to B. of the Chesterfield--eagerly_). A +disappointment? + +BELINDA. Yes, he thought I was--younger than I was. + +TREMAYNE (_smiling to himself_). How old are you, Belinda? + +BELINDA (_dropping her eyes_). Twenty-two. (_After a pause_.) +He thought I was eighteen. Such a disappointment! + +TREMAYNE (_smiling openly at her_). Belinda, how old are you? + +BELINDA. Just about the right age, Mr. Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. The right age for what? + +BELINDA. For this sort of conversation. + +TREMAYNE. Shall I tell you how old you are? + +BELINDA. Do you mean in figures or--poetically? + +TREMAYNE. I meant----- + +BELINDA. Mr. Devenish said I was as old as the--now, I must get this the +right way round--as old as the----- + +TREMAYNE. I don't want to talk about Mr. Devenish. + +BELINDA (_with a sigh_). Nobody ever does--except Mr. Devenish. As +old as the stars, and as young as the dawn. (_Settling herself +cosily_.) I think that's rather a nice age to be, don't you? + +TREMAYNE. A very nice age to be. + +BELINDA. It's a pity he's thrown me over for Delia; I shall miss that +sort of thing rather. You don't say those sort of things about your +aunt-in-law----not so often. + +TREMAYNE (_eagerly_). He really is in love with Miss Robinson! + +BELINDA. Oh yes. I expect he is out in the moonlight with her now, +comparing her to Diana. + +TREMAYNE. Well, that accounts for _him. _Now what about Baxter? + +BELINDA. I thought I told you. Deeply disappointed to find that I was +four years older than he expected, Mr. Baxter hurried from the +drawing-room and buried himself in a column of the _Encyclopedia +Britannica_. + +TREMAYNE. Well, that settles Baxter. Are there any more men in the +neighbourhood? + +BELINDA (_shaking her head_). Isn't it awful? I've only had those +two for the last three weeks. + +(TREMAYNE _sits on the back of the Chesterfield and looks down at +her_.) + +TREMAYNE. Belinda. + +BELINDA. Yes, Henry! + +TREMAYNE. My name is John. + +BELINDA. Well, you never told me. I had to guess. Everybody thinks they +can call me Belinda without giving me the least idea what their own +names are. You were saying, John? + +TREMAYNE. My friends call me Jack. + +BELINDA. Jack Robinson. That's the man who always goes away so quickly. +I hope you're making more of a stay? + +TREMAYNE (_seizing her by both arms_). Oh, you maddening, maddening +woman! + +BELINDA. Well, I have to keep the conversation going. You do nothing but +say "Belinda." + +TREMAYNE (_taking her hand_). Have you ever loved anybody +seriously, Belinda? + +BELINDA. I don't ever do anything very seriously. The late Mr. Tremayne, +my first husband--Jack---- Isn't it funny, _his_ name was Jack--he +used to complain about it too sometimes. + +TREMAYNE (_with conviction_). Silly ass! + +BELINDA. Ah, I think you are a little hard on the late Mr. Tremayne. + +TREMAYNE. Belinda, I want you to marry me and forget about him. + +BELINDA (_happily to herself and lying back_). This is the proposal +that those lamb cutlets interrupted this morning. + +TREMAYNE. Belinda, I love you--do you understand? + +BELINDA. Suppose my first husband turns up suddenly like--like E. A.? + +TREMAYNE. Like who? + +BELINDA. Well, like anybody. + +TREMAYNE. He won't--I know he won't. Don't you love me enough to risk +it, Belinda? + +BELINDA. I haven't really said I love you at all yet. + +TREMAYNE. Well, say it now. + +(BELINDA _looks at him, and then down again_.) + +You do! Well, I'm going to have a kiss, anyway, (_He kisses her +quickly--moves to_ L. _of Chesterfield_.) There! + +BELINDA (_rising_). O-oh I The late Mr. Tremayne never did that. +(_She powders her nose_.) + +TREMAYNE. I have already told you that he was a silly ass. (_He makes +a move as if to kiss her again_.) + +BELINDA (_holding up her hand and sitting on the_ R. _side of the +Chesterfield_). I shall scream for Mr. Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_sitting down on the Chesterfield, on her_ L, _side_.) +Belinda---- + +BELINDA. Yes, Henry--I mean, Jack? + +TREMAYNE. Do you know who I am! (_He is thoroughly enjoying the +surprise he is about to give her_.) + +BELINDA (_nodding_). Yes, Jack. + +TREMAYNE. Who? + +BELINDA. Jack Tremayne. + +TREMAYNE (_jumping up_). Good heavens, you _know_! + +BELINDA (_gently_). Yes, Jack. + +TREMAYNE (_angrily_). You've known all the time that I was your +husband, and you've been playing with me and leading me on. + +BELINDA (_mildly_). Well, darling, you knew all the time that I was +your wife, and you've been making love to me and leading me on. + +TREMAYNE. That's different. + +BELINDA (_to herself_). That's just what the late Mr. Tremayne +said, and then he slammed the door and went straight off to the Rocky +Mountains and shot bears; and I didn't see him again for eighteen years. + +TREMAYNE (_remorsefully_). Darling, I was a fool then, and I'm a +fool now. + +BELINDA. I was a fool then, but I'm not such a fool now--I'm not going +to let you go. It's quite time I married and settled down. + +TREMAYNE. You darling I (_He kisses her_.) How did you find out who +I was? + +BELINDA (_awkwardly_). Well, it was rather curious, darling. +(_After a pause_.) It was April, and I felt all sort of Aprily, +and--and--there was the garden all full of daffodils--and--and there was +Mr. Baxter--the one we left in the library--knowing all about moles. +He's probably got the M. volume down now. Well, we were talking about +them one day, and I happened to say that the late Mr. Tremayne--that was +you, darling--had rather a peculiar one on his arm. And then he happened +to see it this morning and told me about it. + +TREMAYNE. What an extraordinary story! + +BELINDA. Yes, darling; it's really much more extraordinary than that. I +think perhaps I'd better tell you the rest of it another time. +(_Coaxingly_.) Now show me where the nasty lion scratched you. + +(TREMAYNE _pulls up his sleeve_.) Oh! (_She kisses his arm_.) +You shouldn't have left Chelsea, darling. + +TREMAYNE. I should never have found you if I hadn't. + +BELINDA (_squeezing his arm_). No, Jack, you wouldn't. (_After a +pause_.) I--I've got another little surprise for you if--if you're +ready for it. (_Standing up and moving to the chair_ L. _of the +table_.) Properly speaking, I ought to be wearing white. I shall +certainly stand up while I'm telling you. (_Modestly_.) Darling, we +have a daughter--our little Delia. (_He is standing in front of the +fireplace_.) + +TREMAYNE. Delia? You said her name was Robinson. + +BELINDA. Yes, darling, but you said yours was. One always takes one's +father's name. Unless, of course, you were Lord Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. But you said her name was Robinson before you-- + +(_She makes a playful move_.) + +--Oh, never mind about that. A daughter? Belinda, how could you let me +go and not tell me? + +BELINDA. You forget how you'd slammed the door. It isn't the sort of +thing you shout through the window to a man on his way to America. + +TREMAYNE (_taking her in his arms_). Oh, Belinda, don't let me ever +go away again. + +(DEVENISH _and_ DELIA _enter from up_ L. _and pass the +windows on the way to the swing doors_.) + +BELINDA. I'm not going to, Jack. I'm going to settle down into a staid +old married woman. + +TREMAYNE. Oh no, you're not. You're going on just as you did before. And +I'm going to propose to you every April, and win you, over all the other +men in love with you. + +BELINDA. You darling! (_They embrace_.) + +(DELIA _and_ DEVENISH _come in from the garden_.) + +TREMAYNE (_quietly to_ BELINDA). Our daughter. + +DELIA (_going up to_ TREMAYNE). You're my father. + +TREMAYNE. If you don't mind very much, Delia. + +DELIA. You've been away a long time. + +TREMAYNE. I'll do my best to make up for it. + +BELINDA. Delia, darling, I think you might kiss your poor old father. + +(_As the does to,_ DEVENISH _suddenly and hastily kisses_ +BELINDA _on the cheek_.) + +DEVENISH. Just in case you're going to be my mother-in-law. + +TREMAYNE. We seem to be rather a family party. + +BELINDA (_suddenly_). There! (_Moving to the door_ L.) We've +forgotten Mr. Baxter again. + +BAXTER (_who has come in quietly with a book in his hand_). Oh, don't mind +about me, Mrs. Tremayne. I've enjoyed myself immensely. (_He crosses to +the arm-chair below the fireplace and places it in front of the fire_.) + +(BELINDA _and_ TREMAYNE _move up into the inner room by the +refectory table and embrace, their backs to_ BAXTER. DELIA _and_ +DEVENISH _are by the swing doors. They also embrace, their backs to_ +BAXTER.) + +(_Referring to his book_.) I have been collecting some most valuable +information on (looking round at them and sitting in the arm-chair and +continuing to read) lunacy in the--er--county of Devonshire. + +(_The_ CURTAIN _falls_.) + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Belinda, by A. A. Milne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BELINDA *** + +***** This file should be named 6992-8.txt or 6992-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/9/9/6992/ + +Produced by Curtis A. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/6992-8.zip b/6992-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ea409c --- /dev/null +++ b/6992-8.zip diff --git a/6992-h.zip b/6992-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b3f923 --- /dev/null +++ b/6992-h.zip diff --git a/6992-h/6992-h.htm b/6992-h/6992-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..be35c28 --- /dev/null +++ b/6992-h/6992-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3705 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8" ?> +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + +<head> + <title>Belinda: An April Folly in Three Acts, by A. A. Milne</title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- h1,h2,h3,h4 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps } + h1 { margin-top: 2em } + h2 { margin-top: 1.5em } + li.toc { font-variant: small-caps } + p.smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + span.char { font-variant: small-caps; } + span.stage { font-variant: small-caps; } + --> + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Belinda, by A. A. Milne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Belinda + +Author: A. A. Milne + +Posting Date: October 26, 2012 [EBook #6992] +Release Date: November, 2004 +First Posted: February 20, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BELINDA *** + + + + +Produced by Curtis A. Weyant, Stan Goodman, Charles Franks, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>Belinda</h1> +<h2>An April Folly in Three Acts</h2> + +<p style="text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps">by</p> + +<h2>A. A. Milne</h2> + + +<h1>Characters</h1> + + +<p>Produced by Mr. Dion Boucioault at the New Theatre, London, on April 8, +1918, with the following cast:—</p> + +<blockquote><span class="char">Belinda Tremayne</span> .......... <i>Irene Vanbrugh</i>.<br /> +<span class="char">Delia</span> (her Daughter) ...... <i>Isabel Elsom</i>.<br /> +<span class="char">Harold Baxter</span> ............. <i>Dion Boucicault</i>.<br /> +<span class="char">Claude Devenish</span> ........... <i>Dennis Neilson-Terry</i>.<br /> +<span class="char">John Tremayne</span> ............. <i>Ben Webster</i>.<br /> +<span class="char">Betty</span> ..................... <i>Anne Walden</i>.</blockquote> + +<p>The action takes place in Belinda's country-house in Devonshire at the +end of April, the first act in the garden and the second and last acts +in the hall</p> + + +<p>[Illustration]</p> + + +<h1>Belinda</h1> + + +<h2>Act I</h2> + +<p><i>It is a lovely April afternoon–a foretaste of summer–in</i> +<span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>garden</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>a middle-aged servant, is fastening a hammock–its first +appearance this year–to a tree down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>In front there is a +garden-table, with a deck-chair on the right of it and a straight-backed +one to the left. There are books, papers, and magazines on the +table</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>of whom we shall know more presently, is on the +other side of the open windows which look on to the garden, talking +to</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>who crosses to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of hammock, securing it to +tree</i> <span class="stage">C.</span></p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>from inside the house</i>). Are you sure you're tying it up +tightly enough, Betty?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span> (<i>coming to front of hammock</i>). Yes, ma'am; I think it's +firm.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Because I'm not the fairy I used to be.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span> (<i>testing hammock</i>). Yes, ma'am; it's quite firm this end +too.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>entering from portico with sunshade open</i>). It's not the +ends I'm frightened of; it's the middle where the weight's coming. +(<i>Comes down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and admiring</i>.) It looks very nice. (<i>She crosses +at back of wicker table, hanging her hand-bag on hammock. Closes and +places her sunshade at back of tree</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>trying the middle of it with her hand</i>). I asked them at +the Stores if they were quite <i>sure</i> it would bear me, and they +said it would take anything up to–I forget how many tons. I know I +thought it was rather rude of them. (<i>Looking at it anxiously, and +trying to get in, first with her right leg and then her left</i>.) How +does one get in! So trying to be a sailor!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. I think you sit in it, ma'am, and then (<i>explaining with her +hands</i>) throw your legs over.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I see. (<i>She sits gingerly in the hammock, and then, with a +sudden flutter of white, does what</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>suggests</i>.) Yes. +(<i>Regretfully</i>.) I'm afraid that was rather wasted on you, Betty. +We must have some spectators next time.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yea, ma'am</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Cushions.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>moves to and takes a cushion from deck-chair</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>assists her to place it at back of her head</i>. <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>then goes +to back of hammock and arranges</i> <span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>dress</i>.)</p> + +<p>There! Now then, Betty, about callers.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. If Mr. Baxter calls–he is the rather prim gentleman—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yea, ma'am; the one who's been here several times before. +(<i>Moves to below and</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of hammock</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>giving</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>a quick look</i>). Yes. Well, if he +calls, you'll say, "Not at home."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. He will say (<i>imitating</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter</span>), "Oh–er–oh–er–really." Then you'll smile very sweetly and say, "I beg your pardon, was +it Mr. <i>Baxter</i>?" And he'll say, "Yes!" and you'll say, "Oh, I beg +your pardon, sir; <i>this</i> way, please."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's right, Betty. Well now, if Mr. Devenish calls–he is the +rather poetical gentleman—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am; the one who's <i>always</i> coming here.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a pleased smile</i>). Yes. Well, if he calls you'll +say, "Not at home."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. He'll immediately (<i>extending her arms descriptively</i>) +throw down his bunch of flowers and dive despairingly into the moat. +You'll stop him, just as he is going in, and say, "I beg your pardon, +sir, was it Mr. <i>Devenish</i>?" And he will say, "Yes!" and you will +say, "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; <i>this</i> way, please."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am. And suppose they both call together?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>non-plussed for a moment</i>). We won't suppose anything so +exciting, Betty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. No, ma'am. And suppose any other gentleman calls?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sigh</i>). There aren't any other gentlemen.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. It might be a clergyman, come to ask for a subscription like.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. If it's a clergyman, Betty, I shall–I shall want your +assistance out of the hammock first.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's all.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>crosses below table and chairs to porch</i>.)</p> + +<p>To anybody else I'm not at home, (<i>Trying to secure book on table and +nearly falling out of the hammock</i>.) Oh, just give me that little +green book. (<i>Pointing to books on the table</i>.) The one at the +bottom there–that's the one. (<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>gives it to her</i>.) Thank you. +(<i>Reading the title</i>.) "The Lute of Love," by Claude Devenish. +(<i>To herself as she turns the pages</i>.) It doesn't seem much for +half-a-crown when you think of the <i>Daily Telegraph</i> .... Lute ... +Lute .... I should have quite a pretty mouth if I kept on saying that. +(<i>With a great deal of expression</i>.) Lute! (<i>She pats her mouth +back</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Is that all, ma'am?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's all. (<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>prepares to go</i>.) Oh, what am I +thinking of! (<i>Waving to the table</i>.) I want that review; I think +it's the blue one. (<i>As</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>begins to look</i>.) It has an +article by Mr. Baxter on the "Rise of Lunacy in the Eastern Counties"—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>gives her "The Nineteenth Century" Magazine</i>.)</p> + +<p>–yes, that's the one. I'd better have that too; I'm just at the most +exciting place. You shall have it after <i>me</i>, Betty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Is that all, ma'am?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, that really is all.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>goes into the house</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reading to herself very pronouncedly</i>). "It is a matter of +grave concern to all serious students of social problems–" (<i>Putting +the review down in hammock and shaking her head gently</i>.) But not in +April. (<i>Lazily opening the book and reading</i>.) "Tell me where is +love"–well, that's the question, isn't it? (<i>She lies back in the +hammock lazily and the book of poems falls from her to the ground</i>. +<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>comes into the garden, from Paris. She is decidedly a modern +girl, pretty and self-possessed. Her hair is half-way up; waiting for +her birthday, perhaps. She sees her mother suddenly, stops, and then +goes on tiptoe to the head of the hammock. She smiles and kisses her +mother on the forehead</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>looking supremely unconscious, +goes on sleeping</i>. <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>kisses her lightly again</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>wakes up with an extraordinarily natural start, and is just about to +say</i>, "Oh, Mr. Devenish–you mustn't!"–<i>when she sees</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) +Delia! (<i>They kiss each other frantically</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, mummy, aren't you glad to see me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. My darling child!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Say you're glad.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sitting up</i>). My darling, I'm absolutely–(<span class="char">Delia</span> +<i>crosses round to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of hammock</i>.) Hold the hammock while I +get out, dear; we don't want an accident. (<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>holds the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>end of it and</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>struggles out, leaving the magazine and +her handkerchief in the hammock</i>.) They're all right when you're +there, and they'll bear two tons, but they're horrid getting in and out +of. (<i>Kissing her again</i>.) Darling, it really <i>is</i> you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, it is jolly seeing you again. I believe you were asleep.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with dignity</i>). Certainly not, child. I was reading +<i>The Nineteenth Century</i>–(<i>with an air</i>)–and after. (<i>Earnestly</i>) Darling, +wasn't it next Thursday you were coming back?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. No, this Thursday, silly.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>penitently</i>). Oh, my darling, and I was going over to +Paris to bring you home.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I half expected you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. So confusing their both being called Thursday. And you were +leaving school for the very last time. If you don't forgive me, Delia, I +shall cry.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>kissing her and stroking her hand fondly</i>). Silly mother!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>sits down in the deck-chair and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>sits on the +table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Isn't it a lovely day for April, darling! I've wanted to say +that to somebody all day, and you're the first person who's given me the +chance. Oh, I said it to Betty, but she only said, "Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Poor mother!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>jumping up suddenly, crossing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of and +kissing</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>again</i>). I simply must have another one. And to +think that you're never going back to school any more. (<i>Looking at +her fondly, and backing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) Darling, you <i>are</i> looking +pretty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Am I?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Lovely. (<i>She kisses her once more, then she takes the +cushion from the hammock, moves at back of table and places it on the +head of the deck-chair</i>.) And now you're going to stay with me for +just as long as you want a mother. (<i>Anxiously moving to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of +deckchair</i>.) Darling, you didn't mind being sent away to school, did +you? It <i>is</i> the usual thing, you know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Silly mother! of course it is.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>relieved, and sitting on deck-chair</i>). I'm so glad you +think so too.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Have you been very lonely without me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sly look at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). Very.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>turning to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and holding up a finger</i>). The +truth, mummy!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I've missed you horribly, Delia. (<i>Primly</i>.) The absence +of female companionship of the requisite—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Are you really all alone?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>smiling mysteriously and coyly</i>). Well, not always, of +course.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly, at she slips off the table, and backing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>a little</i>). Mummy, I believe you're being bad again.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Really, darling, you forget that I'm old enough to be–in fact, +am–your mother.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>nodding her head</i>). You are being bad.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rising with dignity and drawing herself up to her full +height, moving</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). My child, that is not the way to–Oh, I say, +what a lot taller I am than you! (<i>Turning her back to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> +<i>and comparing sizes</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And prettier.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>playfully rubbing noses with</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). Oh, do you think +so? (<i>Firmly, but pleased</i>.) Don't be silly, child.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>holding up a finger</i>). Now tell me all that's been +happening here at once.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sigh</i>). And I was just going to ask you how you +were getting on with your French. (<i>Sits in deck-chair</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Bother French! You've been having a much more interesting time +than I have, so you've got to tell.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a happy sigh</i>). O-oh! (<i>She sinks back into her +chair</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>taking off her coat</i>). Is it like the Count at Scarborough?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>surprised and pained</i>). My darling, what do you mean?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Don't you remember the Count who kept proposing to you at +Scarborough? I do. (<i>Places coat on hammock</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Dear one, you were the merest child, +paddling about on the beach and digging castles.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling to herself</i>). I was old enough to notice the Count.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sadly</i>). And I'd bought her a perfectly new spade! How +one deceives oneself!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>at table and leaning across, with hands on table</i>). And +then there was the M.P. who proposed at Windermere.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, dear, but it wasn't seconded–I mean he never got very far +with it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And the artist in Wales.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Darling child, what a memory you have. No wonder your teachers +are pleased with you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>settling herself comfortably in deck-chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> +<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and lying in her arms</i>). Now tell me all about this one.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>meekly</i>). Which one?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Oh, are there lots?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>severely</i>). Only two.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Two! You abandoned woman!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It's something in the air, darling. I've never been in +Devonshire in April before.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Is it really serious this time?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pained</i>). I wish you wouldn't say this time, Delia. It +sounds so unromantic. If you'd only put it into French–<i>cette +fois</i>–it sounds so much better. <i>Cette fois</i>. (<i>Parentally</i>.) +When one's daughter has just returned from an expensive schooling in +Paris, one likes to feel—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What I meant, dear, was, am I to have a stepfather at last?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Now you're being too French, darling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Why, do you still think father may be alive?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Why not? It's only eighteen years since he left us, and he was +quite a young man then.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes, but surely, surely you'd have heard from him in all those +years, if he'd been alive?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, he hasn't heard from <i>me</i>, and I'm still alive.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>looking earnestly at her mother, rises and moves</i> <span class="stage">L.C.</span>). I +shall never understand it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Understand what?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Were you as heavenly when you were young as you are now?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rapturously</i>). Oh, I was sweet!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And yet he left you after only six months.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rather crossly, sitting up</i>). I wish you wouldn't keep on +saying he left me. I left him too.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>running to and kneeling in front of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and looking +anxiously into her face</i>). Why?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>smiling to herself</i>). Well, you see, he was quite certain +he knew how to manage women, and I was quite certain I knew how to +manage men. (<i>Thoughtfully</i>.) If only one of us had been certain, +it would have been all right.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>seriously</i>). What really happened, mummy? I'm grown up now, +so I think you ought to tell me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>thoughtfully</i>). That was about all, you know ... except +for his beard.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Had he a beard? (<i>Laughing</i>.) How funny!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>roaring with laughter, in which</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>joins</i>). +Yes, dear, it was; but he never would see it. He took it quite +seriously.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And did you say dramatically, "If you really loved me, you'd take +it off"?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). I'm afraid I did, darling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And what did he say?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. He said–<i>very</i> rudely–that, if I loved <i>him</i>, I'd +do my hair in a different way.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>sinks down on her haunches, facing the audience</i>). How +ridiculous!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>touching her hair</i>). Of course, I didn't do it like this +then. I suppose we never ought to have married, really.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Why did you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mother rather wanted it. (<i>Solemnly</i>.) Delia, never get +married because your mother— Oh, I forgot; <i>I'm</i> your mother.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And I don't want a better one ... (<i>They embrace</i>.) And so +you left each other?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But, darling, didn't you tell him there was going to be a Me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I wonder why not?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, you see, if I had, he might have wanted to stay.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>hurt</i>). If he didn't want to stay for <i>me</i>, I didn't +want him to stay for <i>you</i>. (<i>Penitently</i>.) Forgive me, darling, +but I didn't know you very well then. We've been very happy together, +haven't we?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going to the hammock, sitting in it and dangling her +legs</i>). I should think we have.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>leaning back in chair</i>). I don't want to deny you +anything, and, of course, if you'd like a stepfather (<i>looking down +modestly</i>) or two—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, you <i>have</i> been enjoying yourself.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Only you see how awkward it would be if Jack turned up in the +middle of the wedding, like–like Eugene Aram.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Enoch Arden, darling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It's very confusing their having the same initials. Perhaps I'd +better call them both E. A. in future and then I shall be safe. Well, +anyhow it would be awkward, darling, wouldn't it? Not that I should know +him from Adam after all these years–except for a mole on his left arm.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Perhaps Adam had a mole.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No, darling; you're thinking of Noah. He had two.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>thoughtfully</i>). I wonder what would happen if you met +somebody whom you really <i>did</i> fall in love with?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Now you're being serious, and it's +April.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Aren't these two–the present two–serious?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no! They think they are, but they aren't a bit, really. +Besides, I'm doing them such a lot of good. I'm sure they'd hate to +marry me, but they love to think they're in love with me, and–<i>I</i> +love it, and–and <i>they</i> love it, and–and we <i>all</i> love it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>rising and crossing to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). You really are the +biggest, darlingest baby who ever lived. (<i>Kisses her</i>.) Do say I +shan't spoil your lovely times.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>surprised</i>). Spoil them? Why, you'll make them more +lovely than ever.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>turning away and sitting on table</i>). Well, but do they know +you have a grown-up daughter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>suddenly realizing and sitting up</i>). Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. It doesn't really matter, because you don't look a day more than +thirty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>absently</i>). No. (<i>Hurriedly</i>.) I mean, how sweet of +you–only—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>playing with her rings</i>). Well, one of them, Mr. Baxter–Harold–(<i>she looks quickly up at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and down again in +pretty affectation, but she is really laughing at herself all the +time</i>) he writes statistical articles for the Reviews–percentages +and all those things. He's just the sort of man, if he knew that I was +your mother, to work it out that I was more than thirty. The other one, +Mr. Devenish–Claude–(<i>she looks up and down as before</i>) he's +rather, rather poetical. He thinks I came straight from heaven–last +week.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>laughing and jumping up and crossing below deck-chair to</i> +<span class="stage">R.</span> <i>towards house</i>). I think <i>I'd</i> better go straight back to +Paris.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>jumping up and catching her firmly by the left arm</i>). You +will do nothing of the sort. (<i>Pulling</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>back to centre</i>.) +You will take off that hat–(<i>she lets go of the arm and begins to +take out the pin</i>) which is a perfect duck, and I don't know why I +didn't say so before–(<i>she puts the hat down on the table</i>) and +let me take a good look at you (<i>she does so</i>), and kiss you (<i>she +does so, then crosses</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>below her and takes her towards the +house</i>), and then we'll go to your room and unpack and have a lovely +talk about clothes. And then we'll have tea.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>comes in and stands up at back</i>.)</p> + +<p>And now here's Betty coming in to upset all our delightful plans, just +when we'vt made them. (<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>are now on</i> <span class="char">Betty's</span> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>leaving</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and shaking hands with</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>). How +are you, Betty? I've left school.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Very nicely, thank you, miss. (<i>Backing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and +admiring</i>.) You've grown.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving to and patting the top of</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span> <i>head</i>). +I'm much taller than she is... (<i>Crossing to</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>in front +of</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) Well, Betty, what is it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. The two gentlemen, Mr. Baxter and Mr. Devenish, have both called +together, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>excited</i>). Oh! How–how very simultaneous of them!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>eagerly, going towards house</i>). Oh, do let me see them!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>stopping her</i>). Darling, you'll see plenty of them before +you've finished. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>in an exaggerated whisper</i>.) What have +you done with them?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. They're waiting in the hall, ma'am, while I said I would see if +you were at home.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. All right, Betty. Give me two minutes and then show them out +here.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>crosses below</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and exits into +the house</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>taking</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a step</i>). They can't +do much harm to each other in two minutes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>taking her hat from table</i>). Well, I'll go and unpack. +(<i>She goes back to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>.) You really won't mind my coming down +afterwards?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Of course not. (<i>A little awkwardly, taking</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span> +<i>arm and moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>) Darling one, I wonder if you'd mind–just +at first–being introduced as my niece. (<i>By now at foot of deck-chair</i>.) You see, I expect they're in a bad temper already +(<i>now</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>), having come here together, and we don't want to spoil +their day entirely.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling, on</i> <span class="char">Belinda's</span> <span class="stage">L.</span>). I'll be your mother if you +like.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no, that wouldn't do, because then Mr. Baxter would feel +that he ought to ask your permission before paying his attentions to me. +He's just that sort of man. A niece is so safe–however good you are at +statistics, you can't really prove anything.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. All right, mummy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>enjoying herself</i>). You'd like to be called by a +different name, wouldn't you? There's something so thrilling about +taking a false name. Such a lot of adventures begin like that. How would +you like to be Miss Robinson, darling? It's a nice easy one to remember. +(<i>Persuasively</i>.) And you shall put your hair up so as to feel more +disguised. What fun we're going to have!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You baby! All right, then, I'm Miss Robinson, your favourite +niece. (<i>She takes her jacket from the hammock and moves towards the +house</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How sweet of you! No, no, not that way–you'll meet them. +(<i>Following quickly up between tree and table to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>who has +now reached the house</i>.) Oh, I'm coming with you to do your hair. +(<i>Moving up</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, <i>arm in arm with</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) You don't think you're +going to be allowed to do it yourself, when so much depends on it, and +husbands leave you because of it, and—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>seeing</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>entering from house, hurries</i> +<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>and they bob down behind the yew hedge</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> +<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>comes from the house into the garden, crossing to centre and up +stage looking for</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Mr. Devenish</span>. +<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>gives an angry look round at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>as he enters</i>. <span class="char">Mr. +Baxter</span> <i>is forty-five, prim and erect, with close-trimmed moustache and +side-whiskers. His clothes are dark and he wears a bowler-hat</i>. <span class="char">Mr. Devenish</span> <i>is a long-haired, good-looking boy in a négligé costume; +perhaps twenty-two years old, and very scornful of the world</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> +<i>crosses to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>below</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>and turns to her with a sharp inquiring +glance</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>languidly admiring the garden</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span> (<i>looking about her surprised</i>). The mistress was here a +moment ago. (<i>The two heads pop up from behind the hedge and then down +again immediately</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>exeunt</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). I expect she'll +be back directly, if you'll just wait.</p> + +<p>(<i>She goes back into the house</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>crossing to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>meets</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>who has moved +up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is annoyed and with an impatient gesture comes down +between the tree and the table to chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and sits</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> +<i>throws his felt hat on to the table and walks to the back of the +hammock. He sees the review in the hammock and picks it up</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Good heavens, Baxter, she's been reading your article!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I dare say she's not the only one.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. That's only guesswork (<i>going to back of table</i>); you +don't know of anyone else.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with contempt</i>). How many people, may I ask, have bought +your poems?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>loftily</i>). I don't write for the mob.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I think I may say that of my own work.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Baxter, I don't want to disappoint you, but I have reluctantly +come to the conclusion that you are one of the mob. (<i>Throws magazine +down on table, annoyed</i>.) Dash it! what are you doing in the country +at all in a bowler-hat?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. If I wanted to be personal, I could say, "Why don't you get your +hair cut?" Only that form of schoolboy humour doesn't appeal to me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. This is not a personal matter; I am protesting on behalf of +nature. (<i>Leaning against tree</i>.) What do the birds and the flowers +and the beautiful trees think of your hat?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. If one began to ask oneself what the <i>birds</i> thought of +things–(<i>He pauses</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, and why shouldn't one ask oneself? It is better than +asking oneself what the Stock Exchange thinks of things.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Well (<i>looking up at</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>extravagant hair</i>), +it's the nesting season. Your hair! (<i>Suddenly</i>.) Ha! ha! ha! ha! +ha! ha!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>hastily smoothing it down</i>). Really, Baxter, you're +vulgar. (<i>He turns away and resumes his promenading, going down <span class="stage">R.</span> and +then round deck-chair to front of hammock. Suddenly he sees his book on +the grass beneath the hammock and makes a dash for it</i>.) Ha, my book! +(<i>Gloating over it</i>.) Baxter, she reads my book.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I suppose you gave her a copy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (exultingly). Yes, I gave her a copy. My next book will be hers +and hers alone.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Then let me say that, in my opinion, you took a very great +liberty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Liberty! And this from a man who is continually forcing his +unwelcome statistics upon her.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. At any rate, I flatter myself that there is no suggestion of +impropriety in anything that <i>I</i> write.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I'm not so sure about that, Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. What do you mean, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Did you read The Times this month on the new reviews!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Well!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh, nothing. It just said, "Mr. Baxter's statistics are +extremely suggestive."</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>makes a gesture of annoyance</i>.)</p> + +<p>I haven't read them, so of course I don't know what you've been up to.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising, turning away in disgust and crossing up</i> L). Pah!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Poor old Baxter! (<i>Puts book of poems down on table and +crosses below chair and gathers a daffodil from a large vase down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> +<i>and saying</i> "Poor old Baxter!" <i>ad lib</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>moves round back +of hammock and to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>collides with</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>and much annoyed +goes down between table and tree towards chair down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) Baxter–(<i>moving to and leaning against tree</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>turning to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>crossly</i>). I wish you wouldn't +keep calling me "Baxter."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Harold.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>displays annoyance, and continues his walk to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. It is only by accident–an accident which we both deplore–that +we have met at all, and in any case I am a considerably older man than +yourself. (<i>Sits</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Mr. Baxter–father–(<i>gesture of annoyance from</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>)–I have a proposal to make. We will leave it to this beautiful flower to +decide which of us the lady loves.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>turning round</i>). Eh?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pulling off the petals</i>). She loves me, she loves Mr. +Baxter, she loves me, she loves Mr. Baxter–(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>appears in the +porch</i>)–Heaven help her!–she loves me—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). What are you doing, Mr. Devenish!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>throwing away the flower and bowing very low</i>). My lady.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>rises quickly</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (removing his bowler-hat stiffly). Good afternoon, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p>(<i>She gives her left hand to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who kisses it, and her +right to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>who shakes it</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How nice of you both to come!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Mr. Devenish and I are inseparable–apparently.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You haven't told me what you were doing, Mr. Devenish. Was it +(<i>plucking an imaginary flower</i>) "This year, next year?" or "Silk, +satin–"</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. My lady, it was even more romantic than that. I have the +honour to announce to your ladyship that Mr. Baxter is to be a sailor. +(<i>Dances round imitating the hornpipe</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). Doesn't he talk nonsense?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. He'll grow out of it. I did.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and then to centre towards +hammock</i>). Oh, I hope not. I love talking nonsense, and I'm ever so +old. (<i>As they both start forward to protest</i>.) Now which one of +you will say it first?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You are as old as the stars and as young as the dawn.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. You are ten years younger than I am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. What sweet things to say! I don't know which I like best. + +<span class="char">Devenish</span>. Where will my lady sit!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with an exaggerated curtsy</i>). I will recline in the +hammock, an it please thee, my lord—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>goes to the right of the hammock, saying</i> "Allow me." +<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves to the left of the hammock and holds it, takes up a +cushion which</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>snatches from him and places in hammock +again</i>.)</p> + +<p>–only it's rather awkward getting in, Mr. Baxter. Perhaps you'd both +better look at the tulips for a moment.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Oh–ah–yes. (<i>Crosses down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>turns his back to the +hammock and examines the flowers</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (leaning over her). If only—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You'd better not say anything, Mr. Devenlsh. Keep it for your +next volume. (<i>He turns away and examines flowers on</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>She +sits on hammock</i>.) One, two, three–(<i>throws her legs over</i>)–that was better than last time. (<i>They turn round to see her safely in +the hammock</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>leans against the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>tree at her feet, +and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>draws the deck-chair from the right side of the table +and turns it round towards her. He presses his hat more firmly on +and sits down</i>.) I wonder if either of you can guess what I've been +reading this afternoon!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>looking at her lovingly</i>). I know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>giving him a fleeting look</i>). How did you know?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, I—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). Yes, Mr. Baxter, it was your article I was +reading. If you'd come five minutes earlier you'd have found me +wrestling–I mean revelling in it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I am very greatly honoured, Mrs. Tremayne. Ah–it seemed to me a +very interesting curve showing the rise and fall of—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I hadn't got up to the curves. They <i>are</i> interesting, +aren't they? They are really more in Mr. Devenish's line. (<i>To</i> +<span class="char">Devenish</span>.) Mr. Devenish, it was a great disappointment to me that all +the poems in your book seemed to be written to somebody else.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It was before I met you, lady. They were addressed to the +goddess of my imagination. It is only in these last few weeks that I +have discovered her.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And discovered she was dark and not fair.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. She will be dark in my next volume.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, how nice of her!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>kindly</i>). You should write a real poem to Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Oh do! "To Belinda." I don't know what +rhymes, except cinder. You could say your heart was like a cinder–all +burnt up.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pained</i>). Oh, my lady, I'm afraid that is a cockney +rhyme.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How thrilling! I've never been to Hampstead Heath.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. "Belinda." It is far too beautiful to rhyme with anything but +itself.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Fancy! But what about Tremayne? (<i>Singing</i>.) Oh, I am Mrs. +Tremayne, and I don't want to marry again.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>protesting</i>). My lady!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>protesting</i>). Belinda!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pointing excitedly to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). There, that's the first +time he's called me Belinda! This naughty boy–(<i>indicating</i> +<span class="char">Devenish</span>)–is always doing it–by accident.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Are you serious?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Not as a rule.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You're not going to marry again?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, who could I marry?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> and <span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>together</i>). Me!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her eyes modestly</i>). But this is England.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising and taking off his hat, which he places on table, and +going up to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age–of my +greater years–to speak first.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Mrs. Tremayne, I—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>kindly to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). You can speak afterwards, Mr. +Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together. (<i>To</i> +<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>giving encouragement</i>.) Yes?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving down a little and then returning to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Mrs. +Tremayne, I am a man of substantial position–(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>sniggers–to</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span> <i>great annoyance</i>.) and perhaps I may say of some +repute in serious circles.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>sniggers again</i>.)</p> + +<p>All that I have, whether of material or mental endowment, I lay at your +feet, together with an admiration which I cannot readily put into words. +As my wife I think you would be happy, and I feel that with you by my +side I could achieve even greater things.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How sweet of you! But I ought to tell you that I'm no good at +figures.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>protesting</i>). My lady—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I don't mean what you mean, Mr. Devenish. You wait till it's +your turn. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>.) Yes?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>very formally</i>). I ask you to marry me, Belinda.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>settling herself happily and closing her eyes</i>). O-oh!... +Now it's <i>your</i> turn, Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Money–thank Heaven, I have no money. +Reputation–thank Heaven, I have no reputation.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>very annoyed, moves down and sits on deck-chair</i>.)</p> + +<p>What can I offer you? Dreams–nothing but dreams. Come with me and I +will show you the world through my dreams. What can I give you? Youth, +freedom, beauty—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Debts.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>still with her eyes shut</i>). You mustn't interrupt, Mr. +Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>leaning across hammock</i>). Belinda, marry me and I will +open your eyes to the beauty of the world. Come to me!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>happily</i>). O-oh! You've got such different ways of +putting things. How can I choose between you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Then you will marry one of us?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You know I really <i>oughtn't</i> to.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I don't see why not.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, there's just a little difficulty in the way.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. What is it? I will remove it. For you I could remove anything +–yes, even Baxter. (<i>He looks at</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>who is sitting more +solidly than ever in his chair</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And anyhow I should have to choose between you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>in a whisper</i>), choose me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>stiffly</i>). Mrs. Tremayne does not require any prompting. A +fair field and let the best man win.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>going across to and slapping the astonished</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> +<i>on the back</i>). Aye, let the best man win! Well spoken, Baxter. +(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is very annoyed. To</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and going back to her</i> +<span class="stage">L.</span>) Send us out into the world upon some knightly quest, lady, and let +the victor be rewarded.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I–er–ought to say that I should be unable to go very far. I +have an engagement to speak at Newcastle on the 2lst.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Baxter, I will take no unfair advantage of you. Let the beard +of the Lord Mayor of Newcastle be the talisman that my lady demands; I +am satisfied.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. This sort of thing is entirely contrary to my usual mode of +life, but I will not be outfaced by a mere boy. (<i>Rising</i>.) I am +prepared. (<i>Going to her</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Speak, lady.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>speaking in a deep, mysterious voice</i>). Gentlemen, ye put +wild thoughts into my head. In sooth, I <i>am</i> minded to send ye +forth upon a quest that is passing strange. Know ye that there is a maid +journeyed hither, hight Robinson–whose–(<i>in her natural voice</i>) +what's the old for aunt?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>hopefully</i>). Mother's sister.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You know, I think I shall have to explain this in ordinary +language. You won't mind very much, will you, Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is the spirit of this which matters, not the language +which clothes it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I'm so glad you think so. Well, now about Miss Robinson. +She's my niece and she's just come to stay with me, and–poor girl–she's lost her father. Absolutely lost him. He disappeared ever such a +long time ago, and poor Miss Robinson–Delia–naturally wants to find +him. Poor girl! she <i>can't</i> think where he is.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>nobly</i>). I will find him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, thank you, Mr. Devenish; Miss Robinson would be so much +obliged.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes–er–but what have we to go upon? Beyond the fact that his +name is Robinson—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I shouldn't go on <i>that</i> too much. You see, he may easily +have changed it by now. He was never very much of a Robinson. Nothing to +do with Peter or any of those.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I will find him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with a look of annoyance at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Well, can you tell +us what he's like?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, it's such a long time since I saw him. (<i>Looking down +modestly</i>.) Of course, I was quite a girl then. The only thing I know +for certain is that he has a mole on his left arm about here. (<i>She +indicates a spot just below the elbow</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>examines it +closely</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>folding his arms and looking nobly upwards</i>). I will +find him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I am bound to inform you, Mrs. Tremayne, that even a trained +detective could not give you very much hope in such a case. However, I +will keep a look-out for him, and, of course, if—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Fear not, lady, I will find him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>annoyed</i>). Yes, you keep on saying that, but what have you +got to go on?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>grandly</i>). Faith! The faith which moves mountains.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, and this is only just one small mole-hill, Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, but still—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. S'sh! here is Miss Robinson.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>takes up his hat and moves below the deck-chair to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> +<i>to meet</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p>If Mr. Devenish will hold the hammock while I alight–we don't want an +accident—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>comes out of the house</i>.)</p> + +<p>–I can introduce you. (<i>He helps her to get out, holding the +hammock</i>.) Thank you. Delia darling (<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>) this +is Mr. Baxter,–and Mr. Devenish. My niece, Miss Robinson—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>shakes hands with</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and moves to</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>below</i> +<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and shakes hands with</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How do you do?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Miss Robinson has just come over from France. <i>Man Dieu, quel +pays!</i></p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I hope you had a good crossing, Miss Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, I never mind about the crossing. (<i>Very slowly and +shyly</i>.) Aunt Belinda–(<i>She stops and smiles</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, dear?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I believe tea is almost ready. I want mine, and I'm sure Mr. +Baxter's hungry. (<i>He sniggers approvingly</i>.) Mr. Devenish scorns +food, I expect.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>hurt</i>). Why do you say that?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Aren't you a poet?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, darling, but that doesn't prevent him eating. He'll be +absolutely lyrical over Betty's sandwiches.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You won't deny me that inspiration, I hope, Miss Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>taking</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span> <i>arm and moving with her to below deck-chair</i>). Well, let's go and see what they're like.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>moves up</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span> <i>to below the porch, accompanied by</i> +<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>on her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who follows her on +her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>They all move towards the porch</i>.)</p> + +<p>Mr. Baxter, just a moment.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>apologizing to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and moving in front of the others +to back of deck-chair</i>.) Yes?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>gathers a daffodil from a vase</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and places it in</i> +<span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>buttonhole</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>secretly</i>). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must +be a surprise for her.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Quite so, I understand.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's right. (<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>rejoins</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>. <i>Raising her +voice</i>.) Oh, Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who is evidently much attracted by</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, +<i>apologizes to her and goes back between tree and hammock to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> +<span class="char">Belinda</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Yes, Mrs. Tremayne?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>secretly</i>). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must +be a surprise for her.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Of course! I shouldn't dream–(<i>Indignantly</i>.) +Robinson! What an unsuitable name!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>are just going into the house</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dismissing</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). All right, I'll catch you up. +(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>goes after the other two</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<i>Left alone</i>, <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>laughs happily to herself, and then +begins to look rather aimlessly about her. She picks up her sunshade +and opens it. She comes to the hammock, picks out her handkerchief, +says, "Ah, there you are!" and puts it away. She goes slowly towards +the house</i>. <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>enters from</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and with his back to +the audience tries latch of imaginary gate below scenic painted +gateway</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>turns her head, hearing imaginary click of the +garden gate</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>She comes slowly back</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>seeing</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>). Have you lost yourself, or something? +No; the latch is this side. ... Yes, that's right.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>comes in. He has been knocking about the world for +eighteen years, and is very much a man, though he has kept his manners. +His hair is greying a little at the sides, and he looks the forty-odd +that he is. Without his moustache and beard he is very different from +the boy</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>married</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> ( <i>with his hat in his hand</i> ). I'm afraid I'm +trespassing.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>winningly, moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little</i> ). But it's +such a pretty garden (<i>turns away, dosing her parasol</i>), isn't it?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>half recognizing her, moves to back of hammock and leans +across to obtain a better view of her</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>rather confused</i>). I-I beg your pardon, I-er— (<i>He +is wondering if it can possibly be she</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>thinks his +confusion is due to the fact that he is trespassing, and hastens to put +him at his ease</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I should have done the same myself, you know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>pulling himself together</i>). Oh, but you mustn't think I +just came in because I liked the garden—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>clapping her hands</i>). No; but say you do like it, quick.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. It's lovely and— (<i>He hesitates</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>hopefully</i>). Yes?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>with conviction</i>). Yes, it's lovely. <span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with +that happy sigh of hers</i>). O-oh! ... Now tell me what really did +happen?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I was on my way to Marytown—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. To where?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Marytown.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, you mean Mariton.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Do I?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes; we always call it Mariton down here. (<i>Earnestly</i>.) +You don't mind, do you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling</i>). Not a bit.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Just say it–to see if you've got it right.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Mariton.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>shaking her head</i>). Oh no, that's quite wrong. Try it +again (<i>With a rustic accent</i>.) Mariton.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Mariton.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, that's much better .... (<i>As if it were he who had +interrupted</i>.) Well, do go on.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I'm afraid it isn't much of an apology really. I saw what +looked like a private road (<i>points</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>), but what I rather hoped +wasn't, and–well, I thought I'd risk it. I do hope you'll forgive me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, but I love people seeing my garden. Are you staying in +Mariton?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I think so. Oh yes, decidedly.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, perhaps the next time the road won't feel so private.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. How charming of you! (<i>He feels he must know. A piano is +heard off playing "Belinda." The tune is continued until the fall of the +curtain</i>.) Are you Mrs. Tremayne by any chance?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>nodding to himself</i>). Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How did <i>you</i> know?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>hastily inventing, moving down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>below the +hammock</i>). They use you as a sign-post in the village. Past Mrs. +Tremayne's house and then bear to the left—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And you couldn't go past it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I'm afraid I couldn't. Thank you so much for not minding. +(<i>Going up to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of her</i>.) Well, I must be getting on, I +have trespassed quite enough.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>regretfully</i>). And you haven't really seen the garden +yet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. If you won't mind my going on this way, I shall see some more +on my way out.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Please do. It likes being looked at. (<i>With the faintest +suggestion of demureness</i>.) All pretty things do.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Thank you very much. (<i>Turns to go up c</i>.) Er–(<i>He +hesitates</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>helpfully</i>). Yes?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I wonder if you'd mind very much if I called one day to thank +you formally for the lesson you gave me in pronunciation?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gravely</i>). Yes. I almost think you ought to. I think it's +the correct thing to do.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>contentedly</i>). Thank you very much, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You'll come in quite formally (<i>pointing to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>with +her sunshade</i>) by the front-door next time, won't you, because–because that seems the only chance of my getting to know your name.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh, I beg your pardon. My name is–er–er–Robinson.</p> + +<p>(<i>She is highly amused and looks round towards the house, recalling to +her mind</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>laughing</i>). How very odd!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>startled</i>). Odd?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes; we have some one called Robinson (<i>nodding towards the +house</i>) staying in the house. I wonder if she is any relation?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>hastily</i>). Oh no, no. No, she couldn't be. I have no +relations called Robinson–not to speak of.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You must tell me all about your relations when you come and +call, Mr. Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I think we can find something better worth talking about than +that.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Do you think so? (<i>He says "Yes" with his eyes, bows, and +moves up</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>The piano is now forte. <span class="char">Belinda</span> accompanies him up a +little, then stops. He turns in entrance up <span class="stage">C.</span>, and they exchange +glances</i>. <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>exits to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>behind yew hedge. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +stays looking after him, then moves down to back of table and picking up +the book of poems, gives that happy sigh of hers, only even more +so</i>.) O-oh!</p> + +<p>(<i>Enter</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>from porch</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. If you please, ma'am, Miss Delia says, are you coming in to tea?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking straight in front of her, and taking no notice +of</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>in a happy, dreamy voice</i>). Betty, ... about +callers .... If Mr. Robinson calls–he's the handsome gentleman who +hasn't been here before (<i>puts book down</i>)–you will say, "Not at +home." And he will say, "Oh!" And you will say, "I beg your pardon, +sir, was it Mr. Robinson?" And he will say, "Yes!" And you will say, +"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir–" (<i>Almost as if she were <span class="char">Betty</span>, she +begins to move towards the house</i>.) "This way–" (<i>she would be +smiling an invitation over her shoulder to</i> <span class="char">Mr. Robinson</span>, <i>if he +were there, and she were</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>)–"please!" (<i>And the abandoned +woman goes in to tea</i>.)</p> + +<p style="text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps">Curtain</p> + + +<h2>Act II</h2> + + +<p><i>It is morning in</i> <span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>hall, a low-roofed, oak-beamed +place, comfortably furnished as a sitting-room. There is an inner and an +outer front-door, both of which are open. Up</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>is a door leading +to a small room where hats and coats are kept. A door on the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>leads towards the living-rooms</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>enters from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>at back, passes the windows of the +inner room and crosses to the porch. He rings the electric bell outside, +then enters through the swing doors</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>enters</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> +<i>and moves up at back of settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>by the swing +doors. He is carrying a large bunch of violets and adopts a very aesthetic +attitude</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Good morning, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Good morning. I am afraid this is an unceremonious hour for a +call, but my sense of beauty urged me hither in defiance of convention.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>holding up his bouquet to</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>). See, the dew is yet +lingering upon them; how could I let them wait until this afternoon?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, sir; but I think the mistress is out.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. They are not for your mistress; they are for Miss Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. If you will come in, I'll see if I +can find her. (<i>She crosses to the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and goes away to +find</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>dosing the door after her</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>tries a number of poses about the room for himself and hit +bouquet. He crosses below the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>and sits</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of it +and is about to place his elbow on the table when he finds the toy dog +which has been placed there is in his way. He removes it to the centre +of the table and then leans with his elbow on table and finds this pose +unsuitable so he crosses to above the fireplace and leans against the +upper portico, resting on his elbow which slips and nearly prostrates +him. He then crosses up to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the cupboard door at back centre +and leans on his elbow against the wall</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<i>Enter</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>from the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>shutting the door and going to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Oh, good +morning, Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p>[Illustration :]</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>kisses her hand</i>.)</p> + +<p>I'm afraid my–er–aunt is out.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I know, Miss Delia, I know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. She'll be so sorry to have missed you. It is her day for you, +isn't it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Her day for me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes; Mr. Baxter generally comes to-morrow, doesn't he?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>jealously</i>). Miss Delia, if our friendship is to +progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I +take no interest whatever (<i>coming to back of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>) in Mr. +Baxter's movements.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little</i>). Oh, I'm so sorry; I +thought you knew. What lovely flowers! Are they for my aunt?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. To whom does one bring violets? To modest, shrinking, tender +youth.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I don't think we have anybody here like that.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with a bow and holding out the violets to her</i>). Miss +Delia, they are for you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smelling and taking violets</i>). Oh, how nice of you! But I'm +afraid I oughtn't to take them from you under false pretences; I don't +shrink.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. A fanciful way of putting it, perhaps. They are none the less +for you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, it's awfully kind of you. (<i>Puts flowers down. Then she +moves up to the cupboard. He follows on her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and opens the +door</i>.) I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. (<i>Turning to him +in cupboard doorway</i>.) Aunt Belinda does all the romancing in our +family.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Your aunt is a very remarkable woman.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. She is. Don't you dare to say a word against her. (<i>Takes up a +vase from a chair in cupboard and shakes it as if draining it</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. My dear Miss Delia, nothing could be further from my thoughts. +Why, am I not indebted to her for that great happiness which has come to +me in these last few days?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>surprised</i>). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything +about it. (<i>Coming down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table with vase</i>.) But what +about poor Mr. Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>stiffly, crossing over to fireplace, very annoyed</i>). I +must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going up to table behind Chesterfield up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). But I +thought Mr. Baxter and you were such friends.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>takes water carafe from the table and smiles at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>–<i>which he does not see</i>.)</p> + +<p>Do tell me what's happened. (<i>Moving down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, +<i>she sits and arranges the flowers</i>.) I seem to have lost myself.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>coming to the back of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and reclining on +it</i>.) What has happened, Miss Delia, is that I have learnt at last +the secret that my heart has been striving to tell me for weeks past. As +soon as I saw that gracious lady, your aunt, I knew that I was in love. +Foolishly I took it for granted that it was she for whom my heart was +thrilling. How mistaken I was! Directly you came, you opened my eyes, +and now—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Mr. Devenish, you don't say you're proposing to me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I am. I feel sure I am. (<i>Leaning towards her</i>.) Delia, I +love you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How exciting of you!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with a modest shrug</i>). It's nothing; I am a poet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You really want to marry me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Such is my earnest wish.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But what about my aunt?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>simply</i>). She will be my aunt-in-law.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. She'll be rather surprised.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Delia, I will be frank with you. (<i>Sits</i>.) I admit that I +made Mrs. Tremayne an offer of marriage.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). You really did? Was it that first afternoon I +came?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, I wish I'd been there!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with dignity, rising and moving to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of table</i>). +It is not my custom to propose in the presence of a third party. It is +true that on the occasion you mention a man called Baxter was on the +lawn, but I regarded him no more than the old apple-tree or the flower-beds, or any other of the fixtures.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What did she say?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. She accepted me conditionally.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, do tell me!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is rather an unhappy story. This man called Baxter in his +vulgar way also made a proposal of marriage. Mrs. Tremayne was gracious +enough to imply that she would marry whichever one of us fulfilled a +certain condition.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How sweet of her!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is my earnest hope, Miss Delia, that the man called Baxter +will be the victor. As far as is consistent with honour, I shall +endeavour to let Mr. Baxter (<i>banging the table with his hand</i>) +win.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What was the condition?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. That I am not at liberty to tell.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is, I understand, to be a surprise for you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How exciting! (<i>Rising and taking vase of violets which she +places up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>) Mr. Devenish, you have been very frank (<i>coming to +front of settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and sitting</i>). May I be equally so?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>crosses to her and bows in acquiescence</i>.) Why do you +wear your hair so long?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pleased</i>). You have noticed it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, yes, I have.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I wear it so to express my contempt for the conventions of +so-called society. <span class="char">Delia</span>. I always thought that people wore it very +very short if they despised the conventions of society.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I think that the mere fact that my hair annoys Mr. Baxter is +sufficient justification for its length.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But if it annoys me too?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>heroically</i>). It shall go. (<i>Sits on settee above</i> +<span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>enters from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>with a garden basket supposed to +contain cutlets. She crosses the windows at back</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). I told you I wasn't a very romantic +person, didn't I? (<i>Kindly</i>.) You can always grow it again if you +fall in love with somebody else.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. That is cruel of you, Delia. I shall never fall in love again.</p> + +<p>(<i>Enter</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>through swing doors</i> <span class="stage">B.C.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Why, it's Mr. Devenish!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>rises and kisses her hand somewhat sheepishly</i>.)</p> + +<p>How nice of you to come so early in the morning! How is Mr. Baxter!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>annoyed and crossing behind</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>to her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). +I do not know, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and sitting in the place vacated +by <span class="char">Devenish</span></i>). I got most of the things, Delia. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.) +"The things," Mr. Devenish, is my rather stuffy way of referring to all +the delightful poems that you are going to eat to-night.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I am looking forward to it immensely, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I do hope I've got all your and Mr. Baxter's favourite dishes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>annoyed and, moving to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>foot of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). I'm +afraid Mr. Baxter and I are not likely to appreciate the same things.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coyly</i>). Oh, Mr. Devenish! And you were so unanimous a +few days ago.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I think Mr. Devenish was referring entirely to things to eat.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I felt quite sad when I was buying the lamb cutlets. To think +that, only a few days before, they had been frisking about with their +mammas, and having poems written about them by Mr. Devenish. There! I'm +giving away the whole dinner. Delia, take him away before I tell him +any more.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>rises, goes to table and picks up water carafe which she +replaces on refectory table up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p> + +<p>We must keep some surprises for him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>as she crosses back to table</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and +picks up the flowers</i>). Come along, Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>wickedly</i>). Are those my flowers, Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>advancing to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and laughing awkwardly, after a +little hesitation, with a bow which might refer to either of them</i>). +They are for the most beautiful lady in the land.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, how nice of you!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>crosses to door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and opens it for</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, +<i>who follows him and exits</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>standing above door, +catches <span class="char">Belinda's</span> eye and with an awkward laugh follows</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I suppose he means Delia–bless them! (<i>She kisses her hand +towards the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>She then rises and crosses below the +table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, <i>placing her basket on the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>end of it, to the +fireplace. She rings the bell. Then she moves up on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side +of the Chesterfield to the refectory table and takes off her hat. She +takes up a mirror from the table and gives a few pats to her hair, and +as she is doing so <span class="char">Betty</span> enters from door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and crosses the room +towards</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pointing to basket on the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>). Oh, Betty—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>moves to back of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and takes up the basket. +Crosses above settee and exits through door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>is moving +towards the swing doors when she catches sight of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>entering +from the garden up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>She moves quickly to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table, +takes up a book and going to Chesterfield</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>, <i>lies down with her +head to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>looks in through the window up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>then crosses +round and enters through the portico and the swing doors</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>pretends to be very busy reading</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rather nervously, in front of wring doors</i>). Er–may I +come in, Mrs. Tremayne?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her book and turning round with a violent +start</i>). Oh, Mr. Baxter, how you surprised me! (<i>She puts her hand +to her heart and sits up and faces him</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I must apologize for intruding upon you at this hour, Mrs. +Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>holding up her hand</i>). Stop!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>startled</i>). What?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I cannot let you come in like that.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>looking down at himself</i>). Like what?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her eyes</i>). You called me Belinda once.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>coming down to her</i>). May I explain my position, Mrs. +Tremayne?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Before you begin–have you been seeing my niece lately?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>surprised</i>). No.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh! (<i>Sweetly</i>.) Please go on.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Why, is <i>she</i> lost too?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no; I just— Do sit down.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>moves to the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and sits</i>. +<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>rises when he has sat down</i>.)</p> + +<p>Let me put your hat down somewhere for you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>keeping it firmly in his hand</i>). It will be all right +here, thank you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>returning to the Chesterfield and sitting</i>). I'm dying to +hear what you are going to say.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. First as regards the use of your Christian name. I felt that, as +a man of honour, I could not permit myself to use it until I had +established my right over that of Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. All my friends call me Belinda.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. As between myself and Mr. Devenish the case is somewhat +different. Until one of us is successful over the other in the quest +upon which you have sent us, I feel that as far as possible we should +hold aloof from you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pleadingly</i>). Just say "Belinda" once more, in case +you're a long time.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>very formally</i>). Belinda.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How nicely you say it–Harold.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>getting out of his seat</i>). Mrs. Tremayne, I must not +listen to this.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>meekly</i>). I won't offend again, Mr. Baxter. Please go on. +(<i>She motions him to sit–he does so</i>.) Tell me about the quest; +are you winning?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I am progressing, Mrs. Tremayne. Indeed, I came here this +morning to acquaint you with the results of my investigations. +(<i>Clears his throat</i>.) Yesterday I located a man called Robinson +working upon a farm close by. I ventured to ask him if he had any marks +upon him by which he could be recognized. He adopted a threatening +attitude, and replied that if I wanted any he could give me some. With +the aid of half-a-crown I managed to placate him. Putting my inquiry in +another form, I asked if he had any moles. A regrettable +misunderstanding, which led to a fruitless journey to another part of +the village, was eventually cleared up, and on my return I satisfied +myself that this man was in no way related to your niece.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>admiringly</i>). How splendid of you!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, now, we know <i>he's</i> not. (<i>She holds up one +finger</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes. In the afternoon I located another Mr. Robinson following +the profession of a carrier. My first inquiries led to a similar result, +with the exception that in this case Mr. Robinson carried his +threatening attitude so far as to take off his coat and roll up his +sleeves. Perceiving at once that he was not the man, I withdrew.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How brave you are!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That makes two.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yea.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>holding up another finger</i>). It still leaves a good many. +(<i>Pleadingly</i>.) Just call me Belinda again.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising and backing to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little, nervously</i>). You +mustn't tempt me, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>penitently</i>). I won't!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>going slowly to fireplace and placing his hat down on +armchair below fireplace</i>). To resume, then, my narrative. This +morning I have heard of a third Mr. Robinson. Whether there is actually +any particular fortune attached to the number three I cannot say for +certain. It is doubtful whether statistics would be found to support the +popular belief. But one likes to flatter oneself that in one's own case +it may be true; and so—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And so the third Mr. Robinson–?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Something for which I cannot altogether account inspires me with +hope. He is, I have discovered, staying at Mariton. This afternoon I go +to look for him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself</i>). Mariton! How funny! I wonder if it's the +same one.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. What one?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, just one of the ones. (<i>Gratefully</i>.) Mr. Baxter, you +are doing all this for <i>me</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Pray do not mention it. I don't know if it's Devonshire +(<i>going to and sitting</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>), or the time of the +year, or the sort of atmosphere you create, Mrs. Tremayne, but I feel an +entirely different man. There is something in the air which–yes, I +shall certainly go over to Mariton this afternoon.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gravely</i>). I have had the same feeling sometimes, Mr. +Baxter. I am not always the staid respectable matron which I appear to +you to be. Sometimes I–(<i>She looks absently at the watch on her +wrist</i>.) Good gracious!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>alarmed</i>). What is it!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking anxiously from the door to him</i>). Mr. Baxter, I'm +going to throw myself on your mercy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. My dear Mrs. Tremayne—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking at her watch again, rising and moving up</i> <span class="stage">L.C.</span>, +<i>looking at door</i>). A strange man will be here directly. He must not +find you with me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising, jealously</i>). A man?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Yes, yes, a man! He is pursuing me with his +attentions. If he found you here, there would be a terrible scene.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I will defend you from him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>crossing down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of Chesterfield</i>). No, no. He +is a big man. He will–he will overpower you. (<i>Moving</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>a +little and looking out of windows</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But you–!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I can defend myself. I will send him away. But he must not find +you here. You must hide before he overpowers you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with dignity, crossing below table to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). I will +withdraw if you wish it. <span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>following to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>at back of +table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). No, not withdraw, hide. He might see you withdrawing. +(<i>Leading the way to the cupboard door</i>.) Quick, in here.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>embarrassed at the thought that this sort of thing really +only happens in a bedroom farce and moving towards her</i>). I don't +think I quite—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reassuring him</i>). It's perfectly respectable; it's where +we keep the umbrellas. (<i>She takes him by the hand</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>resisting and looking nervously into the cupboard</i>). I'm +not at all sure that I—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>earnestly</i>). Oh, but don't you see what <i>trust</i> I'm +putting in you? (<i>To herself</i>.) Some people are so nervous about +their umbrellas.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Well, of course, if you–but I don't see why I shouldn't just +slip out of the door before he comes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Of course, if you grudge me every little +pleasure–(<i>Crossing in front of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>towards swing doors +and seeing</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>coming</i>.) Quick! Here he is.</p> + +<p>(<i>She bundles him through the cupboard door and closes it and with a +sign of happiness crosses down to</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table. She sees</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span> +<i>bowler hat on the arm-chair below the fireplace. She fetches and +carries it over to the cupboard door, knocks and hands it to him, +saying</i>, "Your hat!")</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>expostulating and nearly knocking her over as he comes +out</i>). Well, really I—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>bundling him into the cupboard and closing the door</i>). +Hush!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>straightens her hair, takes up her book from</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and sits, stroking the head of the toy dog and +pretending to read</i>. <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>enters from garden up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and +through the swing doors up</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives an assumed cry of +surprise</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>at the swing doors</i>). It's no good your pretending to be +surprised, because you said I could come. (<i>Coming down to the back of +the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>and putting down his hat</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rising, shaking hands and welcoming him</i>). But I can +still be surprised that you wanted to come.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> Oh no, you aren't.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>marking it off on her fingers</i>). Just a little bit–that +much.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. It would be much more surprising if I hadn't come.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>crossing to the Chesterfield, picking up her book and +handing it to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>who puts it on the table</i>). It is a +pretty garden, isn't it? (<i>She sits on</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of Chesterfield</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>coming to her</i>). You forget that I saw the garden +yesterday.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, but the things have grown so much since then. Let me see, +this is the third day you've been and we only met three days ago. (<i>He +moves behind the Chesterfield to the left end of it</i>.) And then +you're coming to dinner again to-night.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>eagerly and leaning over the Chesterfield</i>). Am I?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes. Haven't you been asked?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>going round the left end of the Chesterfield</i>). No, not +a word.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, that's quite right; I remember now, I only thought of it +this morning, so I couldn't ask you before, could I?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>earnestly</i>). What made you think of it then?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>romantically</i>). It was at the butcher's.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Eh?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. There was one little lamb cutlet left over and sitting out all +by itself, and there was nobody to love it. And I said to myself, +suddenly, "I know, that will do for Mr. Robinson." (<i>Protaically</i>.) +I do hope you like lamb?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>sitting on her left side</i>). I adore it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I'm so glad I When I saw it sitting there I thought you'd +love it. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more about the rest of the +dinner, because I wouldn't tell Mr. Devenish, and I want to be fair.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>jealously</i>). Who's Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> Is he in love with you too?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Too? Oh, you mean Mr. Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>rising and moving to fireplace</i>). Confound it, that's +three!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>innocently</i>). Three? (<i>She looks up at him and down +again</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Who is Mr. Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>turning away and looking into fireplace</i>). Who is Mr. +Baxter?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>appears at cupboard doorway</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>hears him and +gives a startled look round. She signs to him to go back. <span class="char">Baxter</span> +retreats immediately and closes door</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, he's a sort of statistician. Isn't that a horrid word to +say? So stishany.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What does he make statistics about?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh (<i>giving a sly look round at cupboard door</i>), umbrellas +and things. Don't let's talk about him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. All right, then; (<i>going up to her jealously</i>) who is Mr. +Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, he's a poet. (<i>She throws up her eyes and sighs +deeply</i>.) Ah me!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What does he write poetry about?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>looks at him, and down again, and then at him again, and +then down, then raises and drops her arms, and gives a little sigh–all +of which means, "Can't you guess?"</i>)</p> + +<p>What does he write poetry about?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>obediently</i>). He wrote "The Lute of Love and other Poems, +by Claude Devenish."</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>is annoyed and turns away to the fireplace</i>.)</p> + +<p>The Lute of Love–(<i>To herself</i>.) I haven't been saying that +lately. (<i>With great expression</i>.) The Lute of Love–the Lute. +(<i>She pats her mouth back</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. And who is Mr. Devenish–!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>putting her hand on his sleeve</i>). You'll let me know when +it's my turn, won't you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Your turn?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, to ask questions. I love this game–it's just like clumps. +(<i>She crosses her hands on her lap and waits for the next +question</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I beg your pardon. I–er–of course have no right to cross-examine you like this.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, do go on, I love it. (<i>With childish excitement</i>.) +I've got my question ready.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling and going and sitting beside her again</i>). I +think perhaps it <i>is</i> your turn.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>eagerly</i>). Is it really? (<i>He nods</i>.) Well then–(<i>in a loud voice</i>)–who is Mr. Robinson?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>alarmed</i>). What?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I think it's a fair question. I met you three days ago and you +told me you were staying at Mariton. Mariton. You can say it all right +now, can't you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I think so.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coaxingly</i>). Just say it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Mariton.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>clapping her hands</i>). Lovely! I don't think any of the +villagers do it as well as that.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking very hard at <span class="char">Tremayne</span>–he wonders whether she has +discovered his identity</i>). Well, that was three days ago. You came +the next day to see the garden, and you came the day after to see the +garden, and you've come this morning–to see the garden; and you're +coming to dinner to-night, and it's so lovely, we shall simply have to +go into the garden afterwards. And all I know about you is that you +haven't any relations called Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What do I know about Mrs. Tremayne but that she has a relation +called Robinson?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And two dear friends called Devenish and Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>rising–annoyed</i>). I was forgetting them. (<i>Crosses to +below</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>end of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself, with a sly look round at the cupboard</i>), I +mustn't forget Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. But what does it matter? What would it matter if I knew +nothing about you? (<i>Moving up to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of Chesterfield and +leaning over it</i>.) I know everything about you–everything that +matters.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>leaning back and closing her eyes contentedly</i>). Tell me +some of them. <span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>bending over her earnestly</i>). Belinda—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>still with her eyes shut</i>). He's going to propose to me. +I can feel it coming.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>starting back</i>). Confound it! how many men <i>have</i> +proposed to you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>surprised</i>). Since when?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Since your first husband proposed to you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I thought you meant this year. (<i>Sitting up</i>.) Well +now, let me see. (<i>Slowly and thoughtfully</i>.) One. (<i>She pushes +up her first finger</i>.) Two. (<i>She pushes up the second</i>.) Three. +(<i>She pushes up the third finger, holds it there for a moment and then +pushes it gently down again</i>.) No, I don't think that one ought to +count really. (<i>She pushes up two more fingers and the thumb</i>.) Three, +four, five–do you want the names or just the total?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>moving up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and then over</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). This is horrible.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>innocently</i>). But anybody can propose. Now if you'd asked +how many I'd accepted—</p> + +<p>(<i>He turns sharply to her–annoyed</i>.)</p> + +<p>Let me see, where was I up to?</p> + +<p>(<i>He moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p>I shan't count yours, because I haven't really had it yet.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>enters down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and stands behind settee</i>.)</p> + +<p>Six, seven–Yes, Betty, what is it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. If you please, ma'am, cook would like to speak to you for a +minute.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>goes up</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>getting up</i>). Yes, I'll come.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>goes out, leaving the door open</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>crosses Before +the table</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<i>To</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) You'll forgive me, won't you? You'll find some +cigarettes there. (<i>Points to table up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>moves by the +back of the settee and holds the door for</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>. <i>She turns to him in +the doorway</i>.) It's probably about the lamb cutlets; I expect your +little one refuses to be cooked.</p> + +<p>(<i>She goes out after</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>.)</p> + +<p>(<i>Left alone</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>stalks moodily about the room, crossing +it and kicking things which come in his way. Violently, he kicks a +hassock which is above the table</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to under the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, +<i>then he takes up his hat and moves towards the swing doors and half +opens them. He pauses and considers–then he comes down to the centre +table, throws down his hat, moves round the left end of the table, finds +the dog in the way and then sits on the table with his hands in his +pockets, facing the audience. As he has been moving about the room, he +has muttered the names of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>entering from the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>which he closes and goes +to foot of the settee <span class="stage">R.</span>–surprised</i>). Hullo!</p> + +<p>(<i>A pause</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>jealously, and rising</i>). Are you Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Devenish the poet?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>coming up and shaking him warmly by the hand</i>). My dear +fellow, you know my work?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>grimly</i>). My dear Mr. Devenish, your name is most +familiar to me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I congratulate you. I thought your great-grand-children would +be the first to hear of me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>moving to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). My name's Robinson, by the way.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>connecting him with</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). Then let me return the +compliment, Robinson. Your name is familiar to me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>hastily, and going towards</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). I don't think I'm +related to any Robinsons you know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>dubiously</i>). Well, no, I suppose not. When I was very +much younger I began a collection of Robinsons. Actually it was only +three days ago, but it seems much longer. (<i>Thinking of</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) +Many things have happened since then.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>uninterested, moving</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) Really!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. There is a man called Baxter–(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>displays his +jealousy of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>.) who is still collecting, I believe. For myself, +I am only interested in one of the great family–Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>eagerly, and going quickly to him and placing his hand on +<span class="char">Devenish's</span> left shoulder</i>). You are interested in <i>her</i>?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Devotedly. In fact, I am at this moment waiting for her to put +on her hat.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>warmly, banging him on the shoulder with both hands</i>). +My dear Devenish, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. (<i>He +seizes his hand and grips it heartily</i>.) How are you? +(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>backs to the settee in pain</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>sitting on settee, feeling his fingers</i>). Fairly well, +thanks.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>sitting above him and banging him on the back</i>). That's +right.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>still nursing his hand</i>). You are a very lucky fellow, +Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. In what way?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. People you meet must be so very reluctant to say good-bye to +you. Have you ever tried strangling lions or anything like that?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>with a laugh</i>). Well, as a matter of fact, I have.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I suppose you won all right?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. In the end, with the help of my beater.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Personally I should have backed you alone against any two +ordinary lions.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. One was quite enough. As it was, he gave me something to +remember him by. (<i>Putting up his left sleeve, he displays a deep +scar</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>looking at it casually</i>). By Jove, that's a nasty one! +(<i>He suddenly catches sight of the mole and stares at it fascinated, +then stares up at</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) Good heavens!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What's the matter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>clasping his head</i>). Wait. (<i>Rising and moving up to</i> +<span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) Let me think. (<i>After a pause</i>.) Have you +ever met a man called Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. No.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Would you like to?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>grimly</i>). Very much indeed.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. He's the man I told you about who's interested in Robinsons. +He'll be delighted to meet you. (<i>With a nervous laugh</i>.) Funny +thing, he's rather an authority on lions. You must show him that scar +of yours; it will intrigue him immensely. (<i>Earnestly</i>.) +<i>Don't</i> shake hands with him too heartily just at first; it might +put him off the whole thing.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. This Mr. Baxter seems to be a curious man.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>absently</i>). Yes, he is rather odd. (<i>Looking at his +watch</i>.) I wonder if I–(<i>To</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) I suppose you won't +be— (<i>He stops suddenly. A slight tapping noise comes from the room +where they keep umbrellas</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What's that!</p> + +<p>(<i>The tapping noise is repeated, a little more loudly this time. +<span class="char">Devenish</span> moves to end of table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Come in.</p> + +<p>(<i>The door opens and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>comes in nervously, holding his +bowler hat in his hand. He moves towards the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). Oh, I just–(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>stands up</i>) +–I just–(<i>He goes back again</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>springing across the room</i>). Baxter!</p> + +<p>(<i>The door opens nervously again and <span class="char">Baxter's</span> head appears round it</i>.)</p> + +<p>Come in, Baxter, old man; you're just the very person I wanted.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>comes in carefully</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>closes the door</i>.)</p> + +<p>Good man. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>taking</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, +<i>and placing his arm round his shoulders</i>.) This is Mr. Baxter that +I was telling you about.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>removes</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>arm from his shoulders</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>moving up to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and much relieved at the +appearance of his rival</i>). Oh, is this Mr. Baxter? (<i>Holding out +his hand with great friendliness</i>.) How are you, Mr. Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>warningly</i>). Steady!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>shakes</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>quite gently by the hand</i>.)</p> + +<p>Baxter, this is Mr. Robinson. (<i>Casually</i>.) R-o-b-i-n-s-o-n. (<i>He +looks sideways at</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>to see how he takes it</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is +noticeably impressed</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Really? I am very glad to meet you, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Very good of you to say so.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>taking his arm</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is annoyed +and gets free</i>). Robinson is a great big-game hunter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving down to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>). Indeed? I have never done +anything in that way myself, but I'm sure it must be an absorbing +pursuit.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh, well, it's something to do.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). You must get him to tell you about a +wrestle he had with a lion once. Extraordinary story! (<i>Looking at his +watch suddenly</i>.) Jove! I must be off. See you again, Baxter. (<i>He +bangs</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>on the shoulder and moves down to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) +Good-bye, Robinson. No, don't shake hands. I'm in a hurry. (<i>He looks +at his watch again and goes out hurriedly by the door on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>sits on settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>on chair</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> +<i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table. He puts his hat on the table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Unusual man, your friend Devenish. I suppose it comes of being +a poet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I have no great liking for Mr. Devenish—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh, he's all right.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But I am sure that if he is impressed by anything outside +himself or his own works, it must be something rather remarkable. Pray +tell me of your adventure with the lion.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>laughing</i>). Really, you mustn't think that I go about +telling everybody my adventures. It just happened to come up. I'm afraid +I shook his hand rather more warmly than I meant, and he asked me if I'd +ever tried strangling lions. That was all.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. And had you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, it just happened that I had.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Indeed! You came off scatheless, I trust?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>carelessly indicating his arm</i>). Well, he got me one +across there.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising and coming to above</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>obviously +excited</i>). Really, really. (<i>Points to his arm</i>.) One across +there. Not bad, I hope?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>laughing</i>). Well, it doesn't show unless I do that. +(<i>He pulls up his sleeve carelessly and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>bends eagerly +over his arm and sees the mole and very slowly looks up at</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, +<i>then down at the arm again, then up at</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Good heavens! I've found it! (<i>He runs over to the table and +picks up his hat</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Found what? (<i>He pulls down his sleeve</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>going up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). I must see Mrs. Tremayne. Where's Mrs. +Tremayne?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. She went out just now. What's the matter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Out! I must find her. This is a matter of life and death. (<i>He +hurries through the swing doors</i>.) Mrs. Tremayne! Mrs. Tremayne! +(<i>He exits</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>through the garden</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>rises and moves to the swing doors, stares after him in +amazement. Then he pulls up his sleeve, looks at his scar again and +shakes his head. While he is still puzzling over it</i>, <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>comes back</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>crossing below settee</i>). Such a to-do in the kitchen! The +cook's given notice–at least she will directly–(<i>up to</i> +<span class="char">Tremayne</span>)–and your lamb cutlet slipped back to the shop when nobody was +looking</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>looks off at swing doors</i>)</p> + +<p>and I've got to go into the village again, (<i>going to the refectory +table and getting her hat</i>) and ok dear, oh dear, I have such a lot +of things to do! (<i>Looking across at</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter's</span> <i>door</i>.) Oh yes, +that's another one. (<i>Coming back to table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>and putting down +her hat on <span class="stage">R.</span> side</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda— (<i>Moving up to her</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No, not even Belinda. Wait till this evening.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I have a thousand things to say to you; I shall say them this +evening.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>giving him her hand</i>). Begin about eight o'clock. Good-bye +till then.</p> + +<p>(<i>He takes her hand, looks at her for a moment, then suddenly bends +and kisses it, takes up his hat and hurries through the swing doors and +off through the garden to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>stands looking from her hand to him, gives a little +wondering exclamation and then presses the back of her hand against her +cheek, and goes to the swing doors. She turns back, and remembers</i> <span class="char">Mr. +Baxter</span> <i>again. With a smile she goes to the door and taps gently</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mr. Baxter, Mr. Baxter, you may come in now; he has withdrawn. +(<i>Moves down a little and then back to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the door again</i>.) +Mr. Baxter, I have unhanded him. (<i>She opens the door and going in, +finds the room empty</i>.) Oh!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>comes quickly through the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>meeting</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>coming out of the cupboard</i>). Ah, +(<i>they both start</i>) there you are! (<i>Crossing down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of</i> +<span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table, he puts down his hat</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>turning with a start</i>). Oh, how you frightened me, Mr. +Baxter! I couldn't think what had happened to you. (<i>She closes the +door</i>.) I thought perhaps you'd been eaten up by one of the +umbrellas.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Mrs. Tremayne, I have some wonderful news for you. I have found +Miss Robinson's father.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>on his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>, <i>hardly understanding</i>). Miss Robinson's +father?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes. <i>Mr</i>. Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, you mean–(<i>Points to direction when <span class="char">Tremayne</span> has +gone</i>.) Oh yes, he told me his name was Robinson–Oh, but he's no +relation.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Wait! I saw his arm. By a subterfuge I managed to see his arm.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>her eyes opening more and more widely as she begins to +realize</i>). You saw—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I saw the mole.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down to him faintly as she holds out her own +arm</i>). Show me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>very decorously indicating</i>). There!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>holds the place with her other hand, and still looking +at</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter</span>, <i>slowly begins to laugh–half-laughter, half-tears, +wonderingly, happily, contentedly</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table and sitting</i>). And I didn't +know!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving to back of table</i>). Mrs. Tremayne, I am delighted +to have done this service for your niece—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself</i>). Of course, <i>he</i> knew all the time.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>to the world</i>). Still more am I delighted to have gained +the victory over Mr. Devenish in this enterprise.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Eighteen years–but I <i>ought</i> to have known.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>at large</i>). I shall not be accused of exaggerating when I +say that the odds against such an enterprise were enormous.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Eighteen years— And now I've eight whole <i>hours</i> to +wait!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>triumphantly</i>). It will be announced to-night. "Mr. +Devenish," I shall say, "young fellow–" (<i>He arranges his speech in +his mind</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>nodding to herself mischievously</i>). So I was right, after +all! (<i>Slowly and triumphantly</i>.) He <i>does</i> look better without +a beard!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with his hand on the back of the chair on the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>side +of the table</i>). "Mr. Devenish, young fellow, when you matched yourself +against a man of my repute, when you matched yourself against a man–matched yourself against a man of my repute (<i>crossing towards +fireplace</i>)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>rises stealthily, takes up her hat and exits through the +swing doors and through the garden up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p>when you matched yourself against a man who has read papers (<i>moving +towards centre table</i>) at Soirees of the Royal Statistical Society–" +(<i>Looking round the room, he discovers that he is alone. He picks up +his hat from the table and jams it down on his head</i>.) Unusual!</p> + +<p>(<i>He moves up towards the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p style="text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps">Curtain.</p> + + +<h2>Act III</h2> + + +<p><i>It is after dinner in <span class="char">Belinda's</span> hall. The log fire, chandelier and +wall brackets are all alight</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>is lying on the Chesterfield +with a coffee-cup in her hand</i>. <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>in the chair down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>below +the fireplace, has picked up "The Lute of Love" from a table and is +reading it impatiently. She also has a coffee-cup in her hand</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>throwing the book away</i>). What rubbish he writes!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming back from her thoughts</i>). Who, dear?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Claude</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives her a quick look of surprise</i>.)</p> + +<p>–Mr. Devenish. (<i>She rises and stands by the fireplace with her cup +in her hand</i>.) Of course, he's very young.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. So was Keats, darling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I don't think Claude has had Keats' advantages. Keats started +life as an apothecary.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. So much nicer than a chemist.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Now, Claude started with nothing to do.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>mildly</i>). Do you always call him Claude, darling? I hope +you aren't going to grow into a flirt like that horrid Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Silly mother! (<i>She moves to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>takes her cup, +then crosses to the table and places both the cups on the table–seriously</i>.) I don't think he'll ever be any good till he really gets +work. Did you notice his hair this evening?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dreamily</i>). Whose, dear?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going to the back of the Chesterfield and to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> +<span class="char">Belinda</span>). Mummy, look me in the eye and tell me you are not being bad.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>having playfully turned her head away and hidden her face +with her handkerchief, says innocently</i>). Bad, darling?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>moving down to the front of the fireplace</i>). You've made +Mr. Robinson fall in love with you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>happily</i>). Have I?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes; it's serious this time. He's not like the other two.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. However did you know that?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, I know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Darling, I believe you've grown up. It's quite time I settled +down.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. With Mr. Robinson?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>sits up and looks thoughtfully at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>for a little +time</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>mysteriously</i>). Delia, are you prepared for a great +secret to be revealed to you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>childishly and jumping on to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>arm of the +Chesterfield facing</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Oh, I love secrets.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Darling, you mustn't take it like that. +This is a great, deep, dark secret; you'll probably need your sal +volatile.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Go on!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well— (<i>Looking round the room</i>.) Shall we have the +lights down a little?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Go on, mummy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, Mr. Robinson is–(<i>impressively</i>)–is not quite the +Robinson he appears to be.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. In fact, child, he is— Darling, hadn't you better come and +hold your mother's hand?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>struggling with some emotion and placing her hand on</i> +<span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>arm, who playfully smacks it</i>). Go on.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, Mr. Robinson is a–sort of relation of yours; in fact–(<i>playing with her rings and looking down coyly</i>)–he is your–father. (<i>She looks up at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>to see how the news is being +received</i>.) (<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>gives a happy laugh</i>.)</p> + +<p>Dear one, this is not a matter for mirth.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Darling, it is lovely, isn't it? (<i>Sliding down to the seat of +the Chesterfield next to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>who moves along to make room +for her</i>.) I am laughing because I am so happy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Aren't you surprised?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. No. You see, Claude told me this morning. (<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>displays +annoyance</i>.) He found out just before Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well! Every one seems to have known except me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Didn't you see how friendly father and I got at dinner? I thought +I'd better start breaking the ice–because I suppose he'll be kissing me +directly.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Say you like him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I think he's going to be awfully nice. (<i>She kisses</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>and rises</i>.) Does he <i>know</i> you know?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Not yet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh! (<i>She moves to the fireplace and warms her hands</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Just at present I've rather got Mr. Baxter on my mind. I +suppose, darling, you wouldn't like him as well as Mr. Devenish! +(<i>Pathetically</i>.) You see, they're so used to going about together.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Claude is quite enough.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I think I must see Mr. Baxter and get it over. Do you mind if I +have Mr. Devenish too? I feel more at home with both of them. I'll give +you him back. Oh dear, I feel so happy to-night! (<i>She jumps up and +goes to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) And is my little girl going to be happy too? That's +what mothers always say on the stage. I think it's so sweet.</p> + +<p>(<i>They move together to below table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling at her</i>). Yes, I think so, mummy. Of course, I'm +not romantic like you. I expect I'm more like father, really.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dreamily</i>). Jack can be romantic now. He was telling me +this morning all about the people he has proposed to. I mean, I was +telling him. Anyhow, he wasn't a bit like a father. Of course, he +doesn't know he is a father yet. Darling, I think you might take him +into the garden; only don't let him know who he is. You see, he ought to +propose to me first, oughtn't he?</p> + +<p>(<i>The men come in from</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>goes to the foot of the +settee <span class="stage">R.</span>, <span class="char">Devenish</span> to the back of the table up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>while</i> +<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>stands at the back of the settee</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>moves to the +front of the settee and <span class="char">Delia</span> sits on the table</i>.)</p> + +<p>Here you all are! I do hope you haven't been throwing away your cigars, +because smoking is allowed all over the house.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>as he comes to the foot of the settee</i>). Oh, we've +finished, thank you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>going up to the swing doors and opening them</i>). Isn't it +a wonderful night?–and so warm for April. Delia, you must show Mr. +Robinson the garden by moonlight–it's the only light he hasn't seen it +by.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>quickly coming to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>back of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). I don't +think I've ever seen it by moonlight, Miss Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down a little</i>). I thought poets were always +seeing things by moonlight.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving toward</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). I was hoping, Mrs. Tremayne, +that–er–perhaps—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>moving quickly to above</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>and taking his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>hand, and pulling him up stage to swing doors</i>). Come along, Mr. +Robinson.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>looks at</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>who gives him a nod</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>then moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). It's very kind of you, Miss Robinson. I +suppose there is no chance of a nightingale?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. There ought to be. I ordered one specially for Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>go out together</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>with a +sigh, moves over to the Chesterfield and settles herself comfortably +into it</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>annoyed by</i> <span class="char">Tremayne's</span> <i>attentions to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, +<i>crosses up angrily and looks off through the window up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>above +fireplace, then comes down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the Chesterfield to the front +of the fireplace</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>moves up to the swing doors angrily watching</i> +<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>then moves to the window</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and looks off</i>. +<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>then enters with a salver from</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>She moves by the back of +the settee to the back of the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, <i>picks up the coffee-cups and +goes out</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>then moves over to the window facing the audience, +up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>He looks off, then comes down to the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>.)</p> + +<p>Now we're together again. Well, Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Er–I—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No; I think I'll let Mr. Baxter speak first. I know he's +longing to.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>leaning on the back of the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of table–he +clears his throat</i>). H'r'm! Mrs. Tremayne, I beg formally to claim +your hand.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sweetly</i>). On what grounds, Mr. Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>spiritedly</i>). Yes, sir, on what grounds?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>coming to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of Chesterfield, close to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). +On the grounds that, as I told you this morning, I had succeeded in the +quest.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>appearing to be greatly surprised</i>). Succeeded?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, Mr. Devenish, young fellow, you have lost. (<i>He moves a +few paces</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to below the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the table</i>.) I have +discovered the missing Mr. Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>wiping hit brow and coming to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). Who–where—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>dramatically</i>). Miss Robinson has at this moment gone out +with her father.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>placing his hands heavily on</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span> <i>shoulders, who +staggers</i>). Good heavens! It was he!</p> + +<p>(<i><span class="char">Baxter</span> pats</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>sympathetically and moves to the back of +the Chesterfield and is about to speak to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>. <i>She, however, +silences him and he drops down to the front of the fireplace</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sympathetically</i>). Poor Mr. Devenish!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pointing tragically to the table</i>). And to think that I +actually sat on that table–no, that seat (<i>he points to the +settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>then he moves up stage between it and the table</i>)–that I sat there with him this morning, and never guessed! Why, ten +minutes ago I was asking him for the nuts!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Aha, Devenish, you're not so clever as you thought you were.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>coming quickly to the back of the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the +table</i>). Why, I must have given you the clue myself! He told me he +had a scar on his arm, and I never thought any more of it. And then I +went away innocently and left you two talking about it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>alarmed</i>). A scar on his arm?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Where a lion mauled him.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives a little cry and shudder</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. It's quite healed up now, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking at him admiringly</i>). A lion! What you two have +adventured for my sake!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I suppose you will admit, Devenish, that I may fairly claim to +have won?</p> + +<p>(<i>Looking the picture of despair</i>, <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>drops down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>of the chair, droops his head, raises his arms and lets them fall +hopelessly to his sides</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mr. Devenish, I have never admired you so much as I do at this +moment. (<i>She extends her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>hand to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who gropes +for it with his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand and eventually manages to seize it</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>noticing he is holding her hand, moving to them and looking +at them quizzically–indignantly to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). I say, you know, +that's not fair. It's all very well to take your defeat like a man, but +you mustn't overdo it. (<i>They release their hands</i>.) Mrs. Tremayne, +I claim the reward which I have earned.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>after a pause and rising</i>). Mr. Baxter–Mr. Devenish, I +have something to tell you.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves to her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>kneels upon the Chesterfield facing them. Penitently</i>.) I +have not been quite frank with you. I think you both ought to know that–I–I made a mistake. Delia is not my niece; she is my daughter. (<i>She +buries her face in her hands</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Your daughter! I say, how ripping!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives him an understanding look</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Your daughter!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But–but you aren't old enough to have a daughter of that age.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). Well, there she is.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But–but she's grown up.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Quite.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Then in that case you must be–(<i>He hesitates, evidently +working it out</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>hastily</i>). I'm afraid so, Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But this makes a great difference. I had no idea. Why, when I'm +fifty you would be—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sighing</i>). Yes, I suppose I should.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. And when I'm sixty—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pleadingly to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Can't you stop him?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with a threatening gesture</i>). Look here, Baxter, another +word from you and you'll never <i>get</i> to sixty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. And then there's Miss–er–Delia. In the event of our marrying, +Mrs. Tremayne, she, I take it, would be my step-daughter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I don't think she would trouble us much, Mr. Baxter. (<i>With a +sly look at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.) I have an idea that she will be getting +married before long. (<i>She again glances at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who +returns her look gratefully</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>into the inner room</i>). None the less, +the fact would be disturbing.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>with a wink at</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>crosses in front of her and +warms his hands at the fire</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>watches</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>over +the back of the Chesterfield</i>.)</p> + +<p>I have never yet considered myself seriously as a step-father. +(<i>Moving round the refectory table</i>.) I don't think I am going too +far if I say that to some extent I have been deceived in this matter. +(<i>He comes down to behind the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). And so have I. I thought you loved me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>sympathetically</i>). Yes, yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>turning to him suddenly</i>). And Mr. Devenish too.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Er—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Er—</p> + +<p>(<i>They stand before her guiltily and have nothing to say</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a shrug</i>). Well, I shall have to marry somebody +else, that's all.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving to below table</i>). Who? Who?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I suppose Mr. Robinson. After all, if I am Delia's mother, and +Mr. Baxter says that Mr. Robinson's her father, it's about time we +<i>were</i> married.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>eagerly</i>). Mrs. Tremayne, what fools we are! He +<i>is</i> your husband all the time!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving up to the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). You've had a +husband all the time?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). I lost him; it wasn't my fault.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Really, this is very confusing. I don't know where I am. I +gather–I am to gather, it seems, that you are no longer eligible as a +possible wife?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I am afraid not, Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But this is very confusing–(<i>moving towards the swing +doors</i>)–this is very disturbing to a man of my age. For weeks past I +have been regarding myself as a–a possible benedict. I have–ah–taken +steps. (<i>Back to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>end of the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>.) Only this morning, +in writing to my housekeeper, I warned her that she might hear at +any moment a most startling announcement.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>cheerfully</i>). Oh, that's all right. That might only mean +that you were getting a new bowler-hat.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>dropping down</i> <span class="stage">L.C.</span> <i>a few steps–suddenly</i>). Ah, and +what about you, sir? How is it that you take this so lightly? +(<i>Triumphantly</i>.) I have it. It all becomes clear to me. You have +transferred your affections to her daughter!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh, I say, Baxter, this is very crude.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And why should he not, Mr. Baxter? (<i>Softly</i>.) He has made +me very happy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>staggered</i>). He has made you happy, Mrs. Tremayne!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Very happy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>thoughtfully</i>). Oh! Oh ho! Oh ho! (<i>He takes a turn up +the room into the inner room, muttering to himself</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>kneels and watches him over the back of the Chesterfield. Then he +comes down again to her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side</i>.) Mrs. Tremayne, I have taken +a great resolve. (<i>Solemnly</i>.) I also will make you happy. +(<i>Thumping his heart</i>.) I also will woo Miss Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Look here, Baxter—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>suddenly crossing and seizing</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>arm and +pulling him towards the siding doors up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>between the Chesterfield +and the table</i>). Come, we will seek Miss Delia together.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>seizes</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>hand as he is passing and he, clinging +to it, nearly pulls her off the Chesterfield. She is very amused</i>.)</p> + +<p>It may be that she will send us upon another quest in which I shall +again be victorious.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>releases her hand and slips down into the Chesterfield. +Tempestuously</i>.)</p> + +<p>Come, I say—</p> + +<p>(<i>He marches the resisting</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>to the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p>Let us put it to the touch, to win or lose it all.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>turning and appealing to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Please!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gently</i>). Mr. Baxter... Harold.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>stops and turns round</i>.)</p> + +<p>You are too impetuous. I think that as Delia's mother—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>coming down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to the foot of the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> +<i>table</i>). Your pardon, Mrs. Tremayne. In the intoxication of the +moment I am forgetting. (<i>Formally</i>.) I have the honour to ask your +permission to pay my addresses–(<i>Moves to chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No, no, I didn't mean that. But, as Delia's mother, I ought to +warn you that she is hardly fitted to take the place of your +housekeeper. She is not very domesticated.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>indignantly</i>). Not domesticated? (<i>Sits</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of +table</i>.) Why, did I not hear her tell her father at dinner that she +had arranged all the flowers?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. There are other things than flowers.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>on</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>behind the table</i>). Bed-socks, +for instance, Baxter.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is annoyed</i>.)</p> + +<p>It's a very tricky thing airing bed-socks. I am sure your house-keeper—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>silencing</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Mrs. Tremayne, she will learn. The +daughter of such a mother... I need say no more.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, thank you. But there is something else, Mr. Baxter. You are +not being quite fair to yourself. In starting out upon this simultaneous +wooing, you forget that Mr. Devenish has already had his turn–(<span class="char">Devenish</span> +<i>tries to stop her</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>turns round and nearly catches +him</i>.)–this morning alone. You should have yours ... alone ... too.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh, I say!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, yes, you are right. I must introduce myself first as a +suitor. I see that. (<i>Rising, to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.) You stay here; +<i>I</i> will go alone into the garden, and–(<i>Moving below table and +up to the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It is perhaps a little cold out of doors for people of ... of +our age, Mr. Baxter. Now, in the library—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>at the swing doors, turning to her, astonished</i>). Library?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little</i>). You have a library?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). He doesn't believe I have a library.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You ought to see the library, Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving more down to below</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table</i>). But you +are continually springing surprises on me this evening, Mrs. Tremayne. +First a daughter, then a husband, and then–a library! I have been here +three weeks, and I never knew you had a library. Dear me, I wonder how +it is that I never saw it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>modestly, rising</i>). I thought you came to see <i>me</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, yes, to see you, certainly. But if I had known you had a +library ....</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I am so glad I mentioned it. Wasn't it lucky, Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. My work has been greatly handicapped of late.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>enter the garden from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and +pass the window at the back</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sweetly</i>). By me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I was about to say by lack of certain books to which I wanted to +refer. It would be a great help. (<i>He moves up R, reflectively +muttering "Library."</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving below and to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>). My +dear Mr. Baxter, my whole library is at your disposal. (<i>She turns +to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who is on her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>, <i>and at the back of the table. +She speaks in a confidential whisper</i>.) I'm just going to show him +the Encyclopedia Britannica. (<i>She moves below the settee to the door</i> +<span class="stage">R.</span>) You won't mind waiting–Delia will be in directly.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>still muttering "Library," crosses to the door and opens it +for her. She goes out and he follows her</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves to the +<span class="stage">R.</span> of the swing doors and welcomes</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>. <span class="char">Tremayne</span> +<i>enters from the portico and holds open the swing doors for</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>speaking from the portico</i>). Hullo, we're just coming in.</p> + +<p>(<i>They enter and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of the +table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Where's Mrs. Tremayne?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>moving to down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). She's gone to the library with +Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>coming down on</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side–carelessly</i>). Oh, +the library. Where's that?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>promptly going towards the door, opening it and standing +above it</i>). The end door on the right.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>sits on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of the table facing</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p>Right at the end. You can't mistake it. On the right.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Ah, yes. (<i>He looks round at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>who points +significantly at the door twice</i>.) Yes. (<i>He looks at</i> +<span class="char">Devenish</span>.) Yes. (<i>He goes out</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>hastily shuts the door and comes back to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I say, your mother is a ripper.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>enthusiastically</i>). Isn't she! (<i>Remembering</i>.) At +least, you mean my aunt?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>smiling at her</i>). No, I mean your mother. To think that +I once had the cheek to propose to her.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh! Is it cheek to propose to people!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. To <i>her</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But not to me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh I say, Delia!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>with great dignity</i>). Thank you, my name is Miss Robinson–I mean, Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, if you're not quite sure which it is, it's much safer to +call you Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling</i>). Well, perhaps it is.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. And if I did propose to you, you haven't answered</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>sitting in the chair</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of the table</i>). If you want +an answer now, it's no; but if you like to wait till next April—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>moving up to behind table–reproachfully</i>). Oh, I say, +and I cut my hair for you the same afternoon. (<i>Turning quickly</i>.) +You haven't really told me how you like it yet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, how bad of me! You look lovely.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>sitting at back of the table</i>). And I promised to give +up poetry for your sake.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Perhaps I oughtn't to have asked you that.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. As far as I'm concerned, Delia, I'll do it gladly, but, of +course, one has to think about posterity.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But you needn't be a poet. You could give posterity plenty to +think about if you were a statesman.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I don't quite see your objection to poetry.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every +day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me +all about it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Then you <i>are</i> thinking of marrying me!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>he rises and taking her hands, raises her from the chair. +She backs a step to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). Do. It would be rather fun if you did. And +look here–(<i>he pulls her gently back. They both sit on the table. He +places his arm round her waist</i>)–I <i>will</i> be a statesman, if +you like, and go up to Downing Street every day, and come back in the +evening and tell you all about it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How nice of you!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>magnificently, holding up his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand to +Heaven</i>). Farewell, Parnassus!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>pulling down his hand</i>). What does that mean?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, it means that I've chucked poetry. A statesman's life +is the life for me; behold Mr. Devenish, the new M.P.–(<i>she holds up +her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand admonishingly and he laughs apologetically</i> )–no, +look here, that was quite accidental.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling at him</i>). I believe I shall really like you when I +get to know you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I don't know if it's you, or Devonshire, or the fact that I've +had my hair cut, but I feel quite a different being from what I was +three days ago.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You <i>are</i> different. (<i>They both rise from the table. She +pulls him to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>one step</i>.) Perhaps it's your sense of humour +coming back.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Perhaps that's it. It's a curious feeling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>pulling him towards the swing doors</i>). Let's go outside; +there's a heavenly moon.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Moon? Moon? Now where have I heard that word before?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What <i>do</i> you mean?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I was trying not to be a poet.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>opens the doors</i>.)</p> + +<p>Well, I'll come with you, but I shall refuse to look at it. (<i>Putting +his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand behind his back, he walks slowly out with her, saying +to himself</i>) The Prime Minister then left the House.</p> + +<p>(<i>They cross the windows at the back and go off</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>come from the library, the latter +holding the door for her to pass</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving below the settee across the room</i>). Thank you. I +don't think it's unkind to leave him, do you? He seemed quite happy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>following her</i>). I shouldn't have been happy if we'd +stayed.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reaching the Chesterfield she puts her feet up. Her head it +towards</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). Yes, but I was really thinking of Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>above table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). Not of me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, I thought it was Mr. Baxter's turn. Poor man, he's had a +disappointment lately.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>coming to <span class="stage">R.</span> of the Chesterfield–eagerly</i>). A +disappointment?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, he thought I was–younger than I was.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling to himself</i>). How old are you, Belinda?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her eyes</i>). Twenty-two. (<i>After a pause</i>.) +He thought I was eighteen. Such a disappointment!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling openly at her</i>). Belinda, how old are you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Just about the right age, Mr. Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. The right age for what?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. For this sort of conversation.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Shall I tell you how old you are?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Do you mean in figures or–poetically?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I meant—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mr. Devenish said I was as old as the–now, I must get this the +right way round–as old as the—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I don't want to talk about Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sigh</i>). Nobody ever does–except Mr. Devenish. As +old as the stars, and as young as the dawn. (<i>Settling herself +cosily</i>.) I think that's rather a nice age to be, don't you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. A very nice age to be.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It's a pity he's thrown me over for Delia; I shall miss that +sort of thing rather. You don't say those sort of things about your +aunt-in-law–not so often.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>eagerly</i>). He really is in love with Miss Robinson!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh yes. I expect he is out in the moonlight with her now, +comparing her to Diana.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, that accounts for <i>him</i>. Now what about Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I thought I told you. Deeply disappointed to find that I was +four years older than he expected, Mr. Baxter hurried from the drawing-room and buried himself in a column of the <i>Encyclopedia Britannica</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, that settles Baxter. Are there any more men in the +neighbourhood?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>shaking her head</i>). Isn't it awful? I've only had those +two for the last three weeks.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>sits on the back of the Chesterfield and looks down at +her</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, Henry!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. My name is John.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, you never told me. I had to guess. Everybody thinks they +can call me Belinda without giving me the least idea what their own +names are. You were saying, John?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. My friends call me Jack.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Jack Robinson. That's the man who always goes away so quickly. +I hope you're making more of a stay?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>seizing her by both arms</i>). Oh, you maddening, maddening +woman!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, I have to keep the conversation going. You do nothing but +say "Belinda."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>taking her hand</i>). Have you ever loved anybody +seriously, Belinda?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I don't ever do anything very seriously. The late Mr. Tremayne, +my first husband–Jack— Isn't it funny, <i>his</i> name was Jack–he +used to complain about it too sometimes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>with conviction</i>). Silly ass!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Ah, I think you are a little hard on the late Mr. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda, I want you to marry me and forget about him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>happily to herself and lying back</i>). This is the proposal +that those lamb cutlets interrupted this morning.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda, I love you–do you understand?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Suppose my first husband turns up suddenly like–like E. A.?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Like who?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, like anybody.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. He won't–I know he won't. Don't you love me enough to risk +it, Belinda?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I haven't really said I love you at all yet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, say it now.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>looks at him, and then down again</i>.)</p> + +<p>You do! Well, I'm going to have a kiss, anyway, (<i>He kisses her +quickly–moves to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of Chesterfield</i>.) There!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rising</i>). O-oh I The late Mr. Tremayne never did that. +(<i>She powders her nose</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I have already told you that he was a silly ass. (<i>He makes +a move as if to kiss her again</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>holding up her hand and sitting on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side of the +Chesterfield</i>). I shall scream for Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>sitting down on the Chesterfield, on her</i> L, <i>side</i>.) +Belinda—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, Henry–I mean, Jack?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Do you know who I am! (<i>He is thoroughly enjoying the +surprise he is about to give her</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>nodding</i>). Yes, Jack.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Who?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Jack Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>jumping up</i>). Good heavens, you <i>know</i>!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gently</i>). Yes, Jack.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>angrily</i>). You've known all the time that I was your +husband, and you've been playing with me and leading me on.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>mildly</i>). Well, darling, you knew all the time that I was +your wife, and you've been making love to me and leading me on.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. That's different.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself</i>). That's just what the late Mr. Tremayne +said, and then he slammed the door and went straight off to the Rocky +Mountains and shot bears; and I didn't see him again for eighteen years.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>remorsefully</i>). Darling, I was a fool then, and I'm a +fool now.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I was a fool then, but I'm not such a fool now–I'm not going +to let you go. It's quite time I married and settled down.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. You darling I (<i>He kisses her</i>.) How did you find out who +I was?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>awkwardly</i>). Well, it was rather curious, darling. +(<i>After a pause</i>.) It was April, and I felt all sort of Aprily, +and–and–there was the garden all full of daffodils–and–and there was +Mr. Baxter–the one we left in the library–knowing all about moles. +He's probably got the M. volume down now. Well, we were talking about +them one day, and I happened to say that the late Mr. Tremayne–that was +you, darling–had rather a peculiar one on his arm. And then he happened +to see it this morning and told me about it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What an extraordinary story!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, darling; it's really much more extraordinary than that. I +think perhaps I'd better tell you the rest of it another time. +(<i>Coaxingly</i>.) Now show me where the nasty lion scratched you.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>pulls up his sleeve</i>.) Oh! (<i>She kisses his arm</i>.) +You shouldn't have left Chelsea, darling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I should never have found you if I hadn't.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>squeezing his arm</i>). No, Jack, you wouldn't. (<i>After a +pause</i>.) I–I've got another little surprise for you if–if you're +ready for it. (<i>Standing up and moving to the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the +table</i>.) Properly speaking, I ought to be wearing white. I shall +certainly stand up while I'm telling you. (<i>Modestly</i>.) Darling, we +have a daughter–our little Delia. (<i>He is standing in front of the +fireplace</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Delia? You said her name was Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, darling, but you said yours was. One always takes one's +father's name. Unless, of course, you were Lord Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. But you said her name was Robinson before you—</p> + +<p>(<i>She makes a playful move</i>.)</p> + +<p>–Oh, never mind about that. A daughter? Belinda, how could you let me +go and not tell me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You forget how you'd slammed the door. It isn't the sort of +thing you shout through the window to a man on his way to America.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>taking her in his arms</i>). Oh, Belinda, don't let me ever +go away again.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>enter from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and pass the +windows on the way to the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I'm not going to, Jack. I'm going to settle down into a staid +old married woman.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh no, you're not. You're going on just as you did before. And +I'm going to propose to you every April, and win you, over all the other +men in love with you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You darling! (<i>They embrace</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>come in from the garden</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>quietly to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Our daughter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going up to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>). You're my father.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. If you don't mind very much, Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You've been away a long time.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I'll do my best to make up for it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Delia, darling, I think you might kiss your poor old father.</p> + +<p>(<i>As the does to</i>, <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>suddenly and hastily kisses</i> +<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>on the cheek</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Just in case you're going to be my mother-in-law.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. We seem to be rather a family party.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>suddenly</i>). There! (<i>Moving to the door</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) We've +forgotten Mr. Baxter again.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>who has come in quietly with a book in his hand</i>). Oh, don't mind +about me, Mrs. Tremayne. I've enjoyed myself immensely. (<i>He crosses to +the arm-chair below the fireplace and places it in front of the fire</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>move up into the inner room by the +refectory table and embrace, their backs to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>. <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>are by the swing doors. They also embrace, their backs to</i> +<span class="char">Baxter</span>.)</p> + +<p>(<i>Referring to his book</i>.) I have been collecting some most valuable +information on (looking round at them and sitting in the arm-chair and +continuing to read) lunacy in the–er–county of Devonshire.</p> + +<p>(<i>The</i> <span style="font-variant: small-caps">Curtain</span> <i>falls</i>.)</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Belinda, by A. A. 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Milne + +Posting Date: October 26, 2012 [EBook #6992] +Release Date: November, 2004 +First Posted: February 20, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BELINDA *** + + + + +Produced by Curtis A. Weyant, Stan Goodman, Charles Franks, +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + + + + +BELINDA + +An April Folly in Three Acts + +BY + +A. A. MILNE + + + + +CHARACTERS + + + +Produced by Mr. Dion Boucioault at the New Theatre, London, on April 8, +1918, with the following cast:-- + + BELINDA TREMAYNE .......... _Irene Vanbrugh_. + DELIA (her Daughter) ...... _Isabel Elsom_. + HAROLD BAXTER ............. _Dion Boucicault_. + CLAUDE DEVENISH ........... _Dennis Neilson-Terry_. + JOHN TREMAYNE ............. _Ben Webster_. + BETTY ..................... _Anne Walden_. + +The action takes place in Belinda's country-house in Devonshire at the +end of April, the first act in the garden and the second and last acts +in the hall + + + +[Illustration] + + + +BELINDA + + + +ACT I + + +_It is a lovely April afternoon--a foretaste of summer--in_ +BELINDA'S _garden_. + +BETTY, _a middle-aged servant, is fastening a hammock--its first +appearance this year--to a tree down_ L. _In front there is a +garden-table, with a deck-chair on the right of it and a straight-backed +one to the left. There are books, papers, and magazines on the +table_. BELINDA, _of whom we shall know more presently, is on the +other side of the open windows which look on to the garden, talking +to_ BETTY, _who crosses to_ R. _of hammock, securing it to +tree_ C. + +BELINDA (_from inside the house_). Are you sure you're tying it up +tightly enough, Betty? + +BETTY (_coming to front of hammock_). Yes, ma'am; I think it's +firm. + +BELINDA. Because I'm not the fairy I used to be. + +BETTY (_testing hammock_). Yes, ma'am; it's quite firm this end +too. + +BELINDA (_entering from portico with sunshade open_). It's not the +ends I'm frightened of; it's the middle where the weight's coming. +(_Comes down_ R. _and admiring_.) It looks very nice. (_She crosses +at back of wicker table, hanging her hand-bag on hammock. Closes and +places her sunshade at back of tree_ C.) + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA (_trying the middle of it with her hand_). I asked them at +the Stores if they were quite _sure_ it would bear me, and they +said it would take anything up to--I forget how many tons. I know I +thought it was rather rude of them. (_Looking at it anxiously, and +trying to get in, first with her right leg and then her left_.) How +does one get in! So trying to be a sailor! + +BETTY. I think you sit in it, ma'am, and then (_explaining with her +hands_) throw your legs over. + +BELINDA. I see. (_She sits gingerly in the hammock, and then, with a +sudden flutter of white, does what_ BETTY _suggests_.) Yes. +(_Regretfully_.) I'm afraid that was rather wasted on you, Betty. +We must have some spectators next time. + +BETTY. Yea, ma'am + +BELINDA. Cushions. + +(BETTY _moves to and takes a cushion from deck-chair_. BELINDA +_assists her to place it at back of her head_. BETTY _then goes +to back of hammock and arranges_ BELINDA'S _dress_.) + +There! Now then, Betty, about callers. + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. If Mr. Baxter calls--he is the rather prim gentleman-- + +BETTY. Yea, ma'am; the one who's been here several times before. +(_Moves to below and_ L. _of hammock_.) + +BELINDA (_giving_ BETTY _a quick look_). Yes. Well, if he +calls, you'll say, "Not at home." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. He will say (_imitating_ MR. BAXTER), "Oh--er--oh--er-- +really." Then you'll smile very sweetly and say, "I beg your pardon, was +it Mr_. BAXTER_?" And he'll say, "Yes!" and you'll say, "Oh, I beg +your pardon, sir; _this_ way, please." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. That's right, Betty. Well now, if Mr. Devenish calls--he is the +rather poetical gentleman-- + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am; the one who's _always_ coming here. + +BELINDA (_with a pleased smile_). Yes. Well, if he calls you'll +say, "Not at home." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. He'll immediately (_extending her arms descriptively_) +throw down his bunch of flowers and dive despairingly into the moat. +You'll stop him, just as he is going in, and say, "I beg your pardon, +sir, was it Mr_. DEVENISH_?" And he will say, "Yes!" and you will +say, "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; _this_ way, please." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. And suppose they both call together? + +BELINDA (_non-plussed for a moment_). We won't suppose anything so +exciting, Betty. + +BETTY. No, ma'am. And suppose any other gentleman calls? + +BELINDA (_with a sigh_). There aren't any other gentlemen. + +BETTY. It might be a clergyman, come to ask for a subscription like. + +BELINDA. If it's a clergyman, Betty, I shall--I shall want your +assistance out of the hammock first. + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. That's all. + +(BETTY _crosses below table and chairs to porch_.) + +To anybody else I'm not at home, (_Trying to secure book on table and +nearly falling out of the hammock_.) Oh, just give me that little +green book. (_Pointing to books on the table_.) The one at the +bottom there--that's the one. (BETTY _gives it to her_.) Thank you. +(_Reading the title_.) "The Lute of Love," by Claude Devenish. +(_To herself as she turns the pages_.) It doesn't seem much for +half-a-crown when you think of the _Daily Telegraph_ .... Lute ... +Lute .... I should have quite a pretty mouth if I kept on saying that. +(_With a great deal of expression_.) Lute! (_She pats her mouth +back_.) + +BETTY. Is that all, ma'am? + +BELINDA. That's all. (BETTY _prepares to go_.) Oh, what am I +thinking of! (_Waving to the table_.) I want that review; I think +it's the blue one. (_As_ BETTY _begins to look_.) It has an +article by Mr. Baxter on the "Rise of Lunacy in the Eastern Counties"-- + +(BETTY _gives her "The Nineteenth Century" Magazine_.) + +--yes, that's the one. I'd better have that too; I'm just at the most +exciting place. You shall have it after _me, _Betty. + +BETTY. Is that all, ma'am? + +BELINDA. Yes, that really is all. + +(BETTY _goes into the house_.) + +BELINDA (_reading to herself very pronouncedly_). "It is a matter of +grave concern to all serious students of social problems--" (_Putting +the review down in hammock and shaking her head gently_.) But not in +April. (_Lazily opening the book and reading_.) "Tell me where is +love"--well, that's the question, isn't it? (_She lies back in the +hammock lazily and the book of poems falls from her to the ground_. +DELIA _comes into the garden, from Paris. She is decidedly a modern +girl, pretty and self-possessed. Her hair is half-way up; waiting for +her birthday, perhaps. She sees her mother suddenly, stops, and then +goes on tiptoe to the head of the hammock. She smiles and kisses her +mother on the forehead_. BELINDA, _looking supremely unconscious, +goes on sleeping_. DELIA _kisses her lightly again_. BELINDA +_wakes up with an extraordinarily natural start, and is just about to +say, _"Oh, Mr. Devenish--you mustn't!"--_when she sees_ DELIA.) +Delia! (_They kiss each other frantically_.) + +DELIA. Well, mummy, aren't you glad to see me? + +BELINDA. My darling child! + +DELIA. Say you're glad. + +BELINDA (_sitting up_). My darling, I'm absolutely--(DELIA +_crosses round to_ L. _of hammock_.) Hold the hammock while I +get out, dear; we don't want an accident. (DELIA _holds the_ L. +_end of it and_ BELINDA _struggles out, leaving the magazine and +her handkerchief in the hammock_.) They're all right when you're +there, and they'll bear two tons, but they're horrid getting in and out +of. (_Kissing her again_.) Darling, it really _is_ you? + +DELIA. Oh, it is jolly seeing you again. I believe you were asleep. + +BELINDA (_with dignity_). Certainly not, child. I was reading +_The Nineteenth Century_--(_with an air_)--and after. (_Earnestly_) +Darling, wasn't it next Thursday you were coming back? + +DELIA. No, this Thursday, silly. + +BELINDA (_penitently_). Oh, my darling, and I was going over to +Paris to bring you home. + +DELIA. I half expected you. + +BELINDA. So confusing their both being called Thursday. And you were +leaving school for the very last time. If you don't forgive me, Delia, I +shall cry. + +DELIA (_kissing her and stroking her hand fondly_). Silly mother! + +(BELINDA _sits down in the deck-chair and_ DELIA _sits on the +table_.) + +BELINDA. Isn't it a lovely day for April, darling! I've wanted to say +that to somebody all day, and you're the first person who's given me the +chance. Oh, I said it to Betty, but she only said, "Yes, ma'am." + +DELIA. Poor mother! + +BELINDA (_jumping up suddenly, crossing to_ L. _of and +kissing_ DELIA _again_). I simply must have another one. And to +think that you're never going back to school any more. (_Looking at +her fondly, and backing to_ L.) Darling, you _are_ looking +pretty. + +DELIA. Am I? + +BELINDA. Lovely. (_She kisses her once more, then she takes the +cushion from the hammock, moves at back of table and places it on the +head of the deck-chair_.) And now you're going to stay with me for +just as long as you want a mother. (_Anxiously moving to_ R. _of +deckchair_.) Darling, you didn't mind being sent away to school, did +you? It _is_ the usual thing, you know. + +DELIA. Silly mother! of course it is. + +BELINDA (_relieved, and sitting on deck-chair_). I'm so glad you +think so too. + +DELIA. Have you been very lonely without me? + +BELINDA (_with a sly look at_ DELIA). Very. + +DELIA (_turning to_ BELINDA _and holding up a finger_). The +truth, mummy! + +BELINDA. I've missed you horribly, Delia. (_Primly_.) The absence +of female companionship of the requisite-- + +DELIA. Are you really all alone? + +BELINDA (_smiling mysteriously and coyly_). Well, not always, of +course. + +DELIA (_excitedly, at she slips off the table, and backing to_ L. +_a little_). Mummy, I believe you're being bad again. + +BELINDA. Really, darling, you forget that I'm old enough to be--in fact, +am--your mother. + +DELIA (_nodding her head_). You are being bad. + +BELINDA (_rising with dignity and drawing herself up to her full +height, moving_ L.). My child, that is not the way to--Oh, I say, +what a lot taller I am than you! (_Turning her back to_ DELIA +_and comparing sizes_.) + +DELIA. And prettier. + +BELINDA (_playfully rubbing noses with_ DELIA). Oh, do you think +so? (_Firmly, but pleased_.) Don't be silly, child. + +DELIA (_holding up a finger_). Now tell me all that's been +happening here at once. + +BELINDA (_with a sigh_). And I was just going to ask you how you +were getting on with your French. (_Sits in deck-chair_.) + +DELIA. Bother French! You've been having a much more interesting time +than I have, so you've got to tell. + +BELINDA (_with a happy sigh_). O-oh! (_She sinks back into her +chair_.) + +DELIA (_taking off her coat_). Is it like the Count at Scarborough? + +BELINDA (_surprised and pained_). My darling, what do you mean? + +DELIA. Don't you remember the Count who kept proposing to you at +Scarborough? I do. (_Places coat on hammock_.) + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Dear one, you were the merest child, +paddling about on the beach and digging castles. + +DELIA (_smiling to herself_). I was old enough to notice the Count. + +BELINDA (_sadly_). And I'd bought her a perfectly new spade! How +one deceives oneself! + +DELIA (_at table and leaning across, with hands on table_). And +then there was the M.P. who proposed at Windermere. + +BELINDA. Yes, dear, but it wasn't seconded--I mean he never got very far +with it. + +DELIA. And the artist in Wales. + +BELINDA. Darling child, what a memory you have. No wonder your teachers +are pleased with you. + +DELIA (_settling herself comfortably in deck-chair_ L. _of_ +BELINDA _and lying in her arms_). Now tell me all about this one. + +BELINDA (_meekly_). Which one? + +DELIA (_excitedly_). Oh, are there lots? + +BELINDA (_severely_). Only two. + +DELIA. Two! You abandoned woman! + +BELINDA. It's something in the air, darling. I've never been in +Devonshire in April before. + +DELIA. Is it really serious this time? + +BELINDA (_pained_). I wish you wouldn't say this time, Delia. It +sounds so unromantic. If you'd only put it into French--_cette +fois_--it sounds so much better. _Cette fois_. (_Parentally_.) +When one's daughter has just returned from an expensive schooling in +Paris, one likes to feel----- + +DELIA. What I meant, dear, was, am I to have a stepfather at last? + +BELINDA. Now you're being too French, darling. + +DELIA. Why, do you still think father may be alive? + +BELINDA. Why not? It's only eighteen years since he left us, and he was +quite a young man then. + +DELIA. Yes, but surely, surely you'd have heard from him in all those +years, if he'd been alive? + +BELINDA. Well, he hasn't heard from _me, _and I'm still alive. + +DELIA (_looking earnestly at her mother, rises and moves_ L.C.). I +shall never understand it. + +BELINDA. Understand what? + +DELIA. Were you as heavenly when you were young as you are now? + +BELINDA (_rapturously_). Oh, I was sweet! + +DELIA. And yet he left you after only six months. + +BELINDA (_rather crossly, sitting up_). I wish you wouldn't keep on +saying he left me. I left him too. + +DELIA (_running to and kneeling in front of_ BELINDA _and looking +anxiously into her face_). Why? + +BELINDA (_smiling to herself_). Well, you see, he was quite certain +he knew how to manage women, and I was quite certain I knew how to +manage men. (_Thoughtfully_.) If only one of us had been certain, +it would have been all right. + +DELIA (_seriously_). What really happened, mummy? I'm grown up now, +so I think you ought to tell me. + +BELINDA (_thoughtfully_). That was about all, you know ... except +for his beard. + +DELIA. Had he a beard? (_Laughing_.) How funny! + +BELINDA (_roaring with laughter, in which_ DELIA _joins_). +Yes, dear, it was; but he never would see it. He took it quite +seriously. + +DELIA. And did you say dramatically, "If you really loved me, you'd take +it off"? + +BELINDA (_apologetically_). I'm afraid I did, darling. + +DELIA. And what did he say? + +BELINDA. He said--_very_ rudely--that, if I loved _him, _I'd +do my hair in a different way. + +DELIA (_sinks down on her haunches, facing the audience_). How +ridiculous! + +BELINDA (_touching her hair_). Of course, I didn't do it like this +then. I suppose we never ought to have married, really. + +DELIA. Why did you? + +BELINDA. Mother rather wanted it. (_Solemnly_.) Delia, never get +married because your mother---- Oh, I forgot; _I'm_ your mother. + +DELIA. And I don't want a better one ... (_They embrace_.) And so +you left each other? + +BELINDA. Yes. + +DELIA. But, darling, didn't you tell him there was going to be a Me? + +BELINDA. Oh no! + +DELIA. I wonder why not? + +BELINDA. Well, you see, if I had, he might have wanted to stay. + +DELIA. But---- + +BELINDA (_hurt_). If he didn't want to stay for _me, _I didn't +want him to stay for _you_. (_Penitently_.) Forgive me, darling, +but I didn't know you very well then. We've been very happy together, +haven't we? + +DELIA (_going to the hammock, sitting in it and dangling her +legs_). I should think we have. + +BELINDA (_leaning back in chair_). I don't want to deny you +anything, and, of course, if you'd like a stepfather (_looking down +modestly_) or two-- + +DELIA. Oh, you _have_ been enjoying yourself. + +BELINDA. Only you see how awkward it would be if Jack turned up in the +middle of the wedding, like--like Eugene Aram. + +DELIA. Enoch Arden, darling. + +BELINDA. It's very confusing their having the same initials. Perhaps I'd +better call them both E. A. in future and then I shall be safe. Well, +anyhow it would be awkward, darling, wouldn't it? Not that I should know +him from Adam after all these years--except for a mole on his left arm. + +DELIA. Perhaps Adam had a mole. + +BELINDA. No, darling; you're thinking of Noah. He had two. + +DELIA (_thoughtfully_). I wonder what would happen if you met +somebody whom you really _did_ fall in love with? + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Now you're being serious, and it's +April. + +DELIA. Aren't these two--the present two--serious? + +BELINDA. Oh no! They think they are, but they aren't a bit, really. +Besides, I'm doing them such a lot of good. I'm sure they'd hate to +marry me, but they love to think they're in love with me, and--_I_ +love it, and--and _they_ love it, and--and we _all_ love it. + +DELIA (_rising and crossing to_ BELINDA). You really are the +biggest, darlingest baby who ever lived. (_Kisses her_.) Do say I +shan't spoil your lovely times. + +BELINDA (_surprised_). Spoil them? Why, you'll make them more +lovely than ever. + +DELIA (_turning away and sitting on table_). Well, but do they know +you have a grown-up daughter? + +BELINDA (_suddenly realizing and sitting up_). Oh! + +DELIA. It doesn't really matter, because you don't look a day more than +thirty. + +BELINDA (_absently_). No. (_Hurriedly_.) I mean, how sweet of +you--only---- + +DELIA. What! + +BELINDA (_playing with her rings_). Well, one of them, Mr. Baxter-- +Harold--(_she looks quickly up at_ DELIA _and down again in +pretty affectation, but she is really laughing at herself all the +time_) he writes statistical articles for the Reviews--percentages +and all those things. He's just the sort of man, if he knew that I was +your mother, to work it out that I was more than thirty. The other one, +Mr. Devenish--Claude--(_she looks up and down as before_) he's +rather, rather poetical. He thinks I came straight from heaven--last +week. + +DELIA (_laughing and jumping up and crossing below deck-chair to_ +R. _towards house_). I think _I'd_ better go straight back to +Paris. + +BELINDA (_jumping up and catching her firmly by the left arm_). You +will do nothing of the sort. (_Pulling_ DELIA _back to centre_.) +You will take off that hat--(_she lets go of the arm and begins to +take out the pin_) which is a perfect duck, and I don't know why I +didn't say so before--(_she puts the hat down on the table_) and +let me take a good look at you (_she does so_), and kiss you (_she +does so, then crosses_ DELIA _below her and takes her towards the +house_), and then we'll go to your room and unpack and have a lovely +talk about clothes. And then we'll have tea. + +(BETTY _comes in and stands up at back_.) + +And now here's Betty coming in to upset all our delightful plans, just +when we'vt made them. (BELINDA _and_ DELIA _are now on_ BETTY'S R.) + +DELIA (_leaving_ BELINDA _and shaking hands with_ BETTY). How +are you, Betty? I've left school. + +BETTY. Very nicely, thank you, miss. (_Backing to_ L. _and +admiring_.) You've grown. + +BELINDA (_moving to and patting the top of_ DELIA'S _head_). +I'm much taller than she is... (_Crossing to_ BETTY _in front +of_ DELIA.) Well, Betty, what is it? + +BETTY. The two gentlemen, Mr. Baxter and Mr. Devenish, have both called +together, ma'am. + +BELINDA (_excited_). Oh! How--how very simultaneous of them! + +DELIA (_eagerly, going towards house_). Oh, do let me see them! + +BELINDA (_stopping her_). Darling, you'll see plenty of them before +you've finished. (_To_ BETTY _in an exaggerated whisper_.) What have +you done with them? + +BETTY. They're waiting in the hall, ma'am, while I said I would see if +you were at home. + +BELINDA. All right, Betty. Give me two minutes and then show them out +here. + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +(BETTY _crosses below_ BELINDA _and_ DELIA _and exits into +the house_.) + +BELINDA (_taking_ DELIA _down_ R. _a step_). They can't +do much harm to each other in two minutes. + +DELIA (_taking her hat from table_). Well, I'll go and unpack. +(_She goes back to_ BELINDA.) You really won't mind my coming down +afterwards? + +BELINDA. Of course not. (_A little awkwardly, taking_ DELIA'S +_arm and moving down_ R.) Darling one, I wonder if you'd mind--just +at first--being introduced as my niece. (_By now at foot of +deck-chair_.) You see, I expect they're in a bad temper already +(_now_ C.), having come here together, and we don't want to spoil +their day entirely. + +DELIA (_smiling, on_ BELINDA'S L.). I'll be your mother if you +like. + +BELINDA. Oh no, that wouldn't do, because then Mr. Baxter would feel +that he ought to ask your permission before paying his attentions to me. +He's just that sort of man. A niece is so safe--however good you are at +statistics, you can't really prove anything. + +DELIA. All right, mummy. + +BELINDA (_enjoying herself_). You'd like to be called by a +different name, wouldn't you? There's something so thrilling about +taking a false name. Such a lot of adventures begin like that. How would +you like to be Miss Robinson, darling? It's a nice easy one to remember. +(_Persuasively_.) And you shall put your hair up so as to feel more +disguised. What fun we're going to have! + +DELIA. You baby! All right, then, I'm Miss Robinson, your favourite +niece. (_She takes her jacket from the hammock and moves towards the +house_.) + +BELINDA. How sweet of you! No, no, not that way--you'll meet them. +(_Following quickly up between tree and table to_ DELIA, _who has +now reached the house_.) Oh, I'm coming with you to do your hair. +(_Moving up_ C., _arm in arm with_ DELIA.) You don't think you're +going to be allowed to do it yourself, when so much depends on it, and +husbands leave you because of it, and---- + +(BELINDA, _seeing_ BETTY _entering from house, hurries_ DELIA +_up_ R., _and they bob down behind the yew hedge_ R. BETTY _comes +from the house into the garden, crossing to centre and up stage +looking for_ BELINDA, _followed by_ MR. BAXTER _and_ MR. DEVENISH. +BAXTER _gives an angry look round at_ DEVENISH _as he enters._ MR. +BAXTER _is forty-five, prim and erect, with close-trimmed moustache and +side-whiskers. His clothes are dark and he wears a bowler-hat_. MR. +DEVENISH _is a long-haired, good-looking boy in a neglige costume; +perhaps twenty-two years old, and very scornful of the world._ BAXTER +_crosses to_ L. _below_ BETTY, _and turns to her with a sharp inquiring +glance_. DEVENISH _moves down_ R., _languidly admiring the garden_.) + +BETTY (_looking about her surprised_). The mistress was here a +moment ago. (_The two heads pop up from behind the hedge and then down +again immediately_. BELINDA _and_ DELIA _exeunt_ R.). I expect she'll +be back directly, if you'll just wait. + +(_She goes back into the house_.) + +(BAXTER, _crossing to_ R., _meets_ DEVENISH _who has moved +up_ R. BAXTER _is annoyed and with an impatient gesture comes down +between the tree and the table to chair_ L. _and sits_. DEVENISH +_throws his felt hat on to the table and walks to the back of the +hammock. He sees the review in the hammock and picks it up_.) + +DEVENISH. Good heavens, Baxter, she's been reading your article! + +BAXTER. I dare say she's not the only one. + +DEVENISH. That's only guesswork (_going to back of table_); you +don't know of anyone else. + +BAXTER (_with contempt_). How many people, may I ask, have bought +your poems? + +DEVENISH (_loftily_). I don't write for the mob. + +BAXTER. I think I may say that of my own work. + +DEVENISH. Baxter, I don't want to disappoint you, but I have reluctantly +come to the conclusion that you are one of the mob. (_Throws magazine +down on table, annoyed_.) Dash it! what are you doing in the country +at all in a bowler-hat? + +BAXTER. If I wanted to be personal, I could say, "Why don't you get your +hair cut?" Only that form of schoolboy humour doesn't appeal to me. + +DEVENISH. This is not a personal matter; I am protesting on behalf of +nature. (_Leaning against tree_.) What do the birds and the flowers +and the beautiful trees think of your hat? + +BAXTER. If one began to ask oneself what the _birds_ thought of +things--(_He pauses_.) + +DEVENISH. Well, and why shouldn't one ask oneself? It is better than +asking oneself what the Stock Exchange thinks of things. + +BAXTER. Well (_looking up at_ DEVENISH'S _extravagant hair_), +it's the nesting season. Your hair! (_Suddenly_.) Ha! ha! ha! ha! +ha! ha! + +DEVENISH (_hastily smoothing it down_). Really, Baxter, you're +vulgar. (_He turns away and resumes his promenading, going down R. and +then round deck-chair to front of hammock. Suddenly he sees his book on +the grass beneath the hammock and makes a dash for it_.) Ha, my book! +(_Gloating over it_.) Baxter, she reads my book. + +BAXTER. I suppose you gave her a copy. + +DEVENISH (exultingly). Yes, I gave her a copy. My next book will be hers +and hers alone. + +BAXTER. Then let me say that, in my opinion, you took a very great +liberty. + +DEVENISH. Liberty! And this from a man who is continually forcing his +unwelcome statistics upon her. + +BAXTER. At any rate, I flatter myself that there is no suggestion of +impropriety in anything that _I_ write. + +DEVENISH. I'm not so sure about that, Baxter. + +BAXTER. What do you mean, sir? + +DEVENISH. Did you read The Times this month on the new reviews! + +BAXTER. Well! + +DEVENISH. Oh, nothing. It just said, "Mr. Baxter's statistics are +extremely suggestive." + +(BAXTER _makes a gesture of annoyance_.) + +I haven't read them, so of course I don't know what you've been up to. + +BAXTER (_rising, turning away in disgust and crossing up_ L). Pah! + +DEVENISH. Poor old Baxter! (_Puts book of poems down on table and +crosses below chair and gathers a daffodil from a large vase down_ R. +_and saying_ "Poor old Baxter!" _ad lib_. BAXTER _moves round back +of hammock and to_ R., _collides with_ DEVENISH _and much annoyed +goes down between table and tree towards chair down_ L.) Baxter-- +(_moving to and leaning against tree_ R.) + +BAXTER (_turning to_ DEVENISH _crossly_). I wish you wouldn't +keep calling me "Baxter." + +DEVENISH. Harold. + +(BAXTER _displays annoyance, and continues his walk to_ L.) + +BAXTER. It is only by accident--an accident which we both deplore--that +we have met at all, and in any case I am a considerably older man than +yourself. (_Sits_ L.) + +DEVENISH. Mr. Baxter--father--(_gesture of annoyance from_ BAXTER)-- +I have a proposal to make. We will leave it to this beautiful flower to +decide which of us the lady loves. + +BAXTER (_turning round_). Eh? + +DEVENISH (_pulling off the petals_). She loves me, she loves Mr. +Baxter, she loves me, she loves Mr. Baxter--(BELINDA _appears in the +porch_)--Heaven help her!--she loves me-- + +BELINDA (_coming down_ R.). What are you doing, Mr. Devenish! + +DEVENISH (_throwing away the flower and bowing very low_). My lady. + +(BAXTER _rises quickly_.) + +BAXTER (removing his bowler-hat stiffly). Good afternoon, Mrs. Tremayne. + +(_She gives her left hand to_ DEVENISH, _who kisses it, and her +right to_ BAXTER, _who shakes it_.) + +BELINDA. How nice of you both to come! + +BAXTER. Mr. Devenish and I are inseparable--apparently. + +BELINDA. You haven't told me what you were doing, Mr. Devenish. Was it +(_plucking an imaginary flower_) "This year, next year?" or "Silk, +satin--" + +DEVENISH. My lady, it was even more romantic than that. I have the +honour to announce to your ladyship that Mr. Baxter is to be a sailor. +(_Dances round imitating the hornpipe_.) + +BELINDA (_to_ BAXTER). Doesn't he talk nonsense? + +BAXTER. He'll grow out of it. I did. + +BELINDA (_moving down_ R. _and then to centre towards +hammock_). Oh, I hope not. I love talking nonsense, and I'm ever so +old. (_As they both start forward to protest_.) Now which one of +you will say it first? + +DEVENISH. You are as old as the stars and as young as the dawn. + +BAXTER. You are ten years younger than I am. + +BELINDA. What sweet things to say! I don't know which I like best. + +DEVENISH. Where will my lady sit! + +BELINDA (_with an exaggerated curtsy_). I will recline in the +hammock, an it please thee, my lord------ + +(BAXTER _goes to the right of the hammock, saying_ "Allow me." +DEVENISH _moves to the left of the hammock and holds it, takes up a +cushion which_ BAXTER _snatches from him and places in hammock +again_.) + +--only it's rather awkward getting in, Mr. Baxter. Perhaps you'd both +better look at the tulips for a moment. + +BAXTER. Oh--ah--yes. (_Crosses down_ R., _turns his back to the +hammock and examines the flowers_.) + +DEVENISH (leaning over her). If only------ + +BELINDA. You'd better not say anything, Mr. Devenlsh. Keep it for your +next volume. (_He turns away and examines flowers on_ L. _She +sits on hammock_.) One, two, three--(_throws her legs over_)-- +that was better than last time. (_They turn round to see her safely in +the hammock_. DEVENISH _leans against the_ L. _tree at her feet, +and_ BAXTER _draws the deck-chair from the right side of the table +and turns it round towards her. He presses his hat more firmly on +and sits down_.) I wonder if either of you can guess what I've been +reading this afternoon! + +DEVENISH (_looking at her lovingly_). I know. + +BELINDA (_giving him a fleeting look_). How did you know? + +DEVENISH. Well, I----- + +BELINDA (_to_ BAXTER). Yes, Mr. Baxter, it was your article I was +reading. If you'd come five minutes earlier you'd have found me +wrestling--I mean revelling in it. + +BAXTER. I am very greatly honoured, Mrs. Tremayne. Ah--it seemed to me a +very interesting curve showing the rise and fall of----- + +BELINDA. I hadn't got up to the curves. They _are_ interesting, +aren't they? They are really more in Mr. Devenish's line. (_To_ +DEVENISH.) Mr. Devenish, it was a great disappointment to me that all +the poems in your book seemed to be written to somebody else. + +DEVENISH. It was before I met you, lady. They were addressed to the +goddess of my imagination. It is only in these last few weeks that I +have discovered her. + +BELINDA. And discovered she was dark and not fair. + +DEVENISH. She will be dark in my next volume. + +BELINDA. Oh, how nice of her! + +BAXTER (_kindly_). You should write a real poem to Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_excitedly_). Oh do! "To Belinda." I don't know what +rhymes, except cinder. You could say your heart was like a cinder--all +burnt up. + +DEVENISH (_pained_). Oh, my lady, I'm afraid that is a cockney +rhyme. + +BELINDA. How thrilling! I've never been to Hampstead Heath. + +DEVENISH. "Belinda." It is far too beautiful to rhyme with anything but +itself. + +BELINDA. Fancy! But what about Tremayne? (_Singing_.) Oh, I am Mrs. +Tremayne, and I don't want to marry again. + +DEVENISH (_protesting_). My lady! + +BAXTER (_protesting_). Belinda! + +BELINDA (_pointing excitedly to_ BAXTER). There, that's the first +time he's called me Belinda! This naughty boy--(_indicating_ +DEVENISH)--is always doing it--by accident. + +DEVENISH. Are you serious? + +BELINDA. Not as a rule. + +DEVENISH. You're not going to marry again? + +BELINDA. Well, who could I marry? + +DEVENISH and BAXTER (_together_). Me! + +BELINDA (_dropping her eyes modestly_). But this is England. + +BAXTER (_rising and taking off his hat, which he places on table, and +going up to_ BELINDA). Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age--of my +greater years--to speak first. + +DEVENISH. Mrs. Tremayne, I-- + +BELINDA (_kindly to_ DEVENISH). You can speak afterwards, Mr. +Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together. (_To_ +BAXTER, _giving encouragement_.) Yes? + +BAXTER (_moving down a little and then returning to_ BELINDA). Mrs. +Tremayne, I am a man of substantial position--(DEVENISH _sniggers-- +to_ BAXTER'S _great annoyance_.) and perhaps I may say of some +repute in serious circles. + +(DEVENISH _sniggers again_.) + +All that I have, whether of material or mental endowment, I lay at your +feet, together with an admiration which I cannot readily put into words. +As my wife I think you would be happy, and I feel that with you by my +side I could achieve even greater things. + +BELINDA. How sweet of you! But I ought to tell you that I'm no good at +figures. + +DEVENISH (_protesting_). My lady-- + +BELINDA. I don't mean what you mean, Mr. Devenish. You wait till it's +your turn. (_To_ BAXTER.) Yes? + +BAXTER (_very formally_). I ask you to marry me, Belinda. + +BELINDA (_settling herself happily and closing her eyes_). O-oh!... +Now it's _your_ turn, Mr. Devenish. + +DEVENISH (_excitedly_). Money--thank Heaven, I have no money. +Reputation--thank Heaven, I have no reputation. + +(BAXTER, _very annoyed, moves down and sits on deck-chair_.) + +What can I offer you? Dreams--nothing but dreams. Come with me and I +will show you the world through my dreams. What can I give you? Youth, +freedom, beauty-- + +BAXTER. Debts. + +BELINDA (_still with her eyes shut_). You mustn't interrupt, Mr. +Baxter. + +DEVENISH (_leaning across hammock_). Belinda, marry me and I will +open your eyes to the beauty of the world. Come to me! + +BELINDA (_happily_). O-oh! You've got such different ways of +putting things. How can I choose between you? + +DEVENISH. Then you will marry one of us? + +BELINDA. You know I really _oughtn't_ to. + +BAXTER. I don't see why not. + +BELINDA. Well, there's just a little difficulty in the way. + +DEVENISH. What is it? I will remove it. For you I could remove anything +--yes, even Baxter. (_He looks at_ BAXTER, _who is sitting more +solidly than ever in his chair_.) + +BELINDA. And anyhow I should have to choose between you. + +DEVENISH (_in a whisper_), choose me. + +BAXTER (_stiffly_). Mrs. Tremayne does not require any prompting. A +fair field and let the best man win. + +DEVENISH (_going across to and slapping the astonished_ BAXTER +_on the back_). Aye, let the best man win! Well spoken, Baxter. +(BAXTER _is very annoyed. To_ BELINDA _and going back to her_ +L.) Send us out into the world upon some knightly quest, lady, and let +the victor be rewarded. + +BAXTER. I--er--ought to say that I should be unable to go very far. I +have an engagement to speak at Newcastle on the 2lst. + +DEVENISH. Baxter, I will take no unfair advantage of you. Let the beard +of the Lord Mayor of Newcastle be the talisman that my lady demands; I +am satisfied. + +BAXTER. This sort of thing is entirely contrary to my usual mode of +life, but I will not be outfaced by a mere boy. (_Rising_.) I am +prepared. (_Going to her_.) + +DEVENISH. Speak, lady. + +BELINDA (_speaking in a deep, mysterious voice_). Gentlemen, ye put +wild thoughts into my head. In sooth, I _am_ minded to send ye +forth upon a quest that is passing strange. Know ye that there is a maid +journeyed hither, hight Robinson--whose--(_in her natural voice_) +what's the old for aunt? + +BAXTER (_hopefully_). Mother's sister. + +BELINDA. You know, I think I shall have to explain this in ordinary +language. You won't mind very much, will you, Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH. It is the spirit of this which matters, not the language +which clothes it. + +BELINDA. Oh, I'm so glad you think so. Well, now about Miss Robinson. +She's my niece and she's just come to stay with me, and--poor girl-- +she's lost her father. Absolutely lost him. He disappeared ever such a +long time ago, and poor Miss Robinson--Delia--naturally wants to find +him. Poor girl! she _can't_ think where he is. + +DEVENISH (_nobly_). I will find him. + +BELINDA. Oh, thank you, Mr. Devenish; Miss Robinson would be so much +obliged. + +BAXTER. Yes--er--but what have we to go upon? Beyond the fact that his +name is Robinson-- + +BELINDA. I shouldn't go on _that_ too much. You see, he may easily +have changed it by now. He was never very much of a Robinson. Nothing to +do with Peter or any of those. + +DEVENISH. I will find him. + +BAXTER (_with a look of annoyance at_ DEVENISH). Well, can you tell +us what he's like? + +BELINDA. Well, it's such a long time since I saw him. (_Looking down +modestly_.) Of course, I was quite a girl then. The only thing I know +for certain is that he has a mole on his left arm about here. (_She +indicates a spot just below the elbow_. BAXTER _examines it +closely_.) + +DEVENISH (_folding his arms and looking nobly upwards_). I will +find him. + +BAXTER. I am bound to inform you, Mrs. Tremayne, that even a trained +detective could not give you very much hope in such a case. However, I +will keep a look-out for him, and, of course, if-- + +DEVENISH. Fear not, lady, I will find him. + +BAXTER (_annoyed_). Yes, you keep on saying that, but what have you +got to go on? + +DEVENISH (_grandly_). Faith! The faith which moves mountains. + +BELINDA. Yes, and this is only just one small mole-hill, Mr. Baxter. + +BAXTER. Yes, but still-- + +BELINDA. S'sh! here is Miss Robinson. + +(BAXTER _takes up his hat and moves below the deck-chair to_ R. +_to meet_ DELIA.) + +If Mr. Devenish will hold the hammock while I alight--we don't want an +accident-- + +(DELIA _comes out of the house_.) + +--I can introduce you. (_He helps her to get out, holding the +hammock_.) Thank you. Delia darling (DELIA _moves down_ R.) this +is Mr. Baxter,--and Mr. Devenish. My niece, Miss Robinson-- + +(DELIA _shakes hands with_ BAXTER _and moves to_ C. _below_ +BELINDA _and shakes hands with_ DEVENISH.) + +DELIA. How do you do? + +BELINDA. Miss Robinson has just come over from France. _Man Dieu, quel +pays!_ + +BAXTER. I hope you had a good crossing, Miss Robinson. + +DELIA. Oh, I never mind about the crossing. (_Very slowly and +shyly_.) Aunt Belinda----(_She stops and smiles_.) + +BELINDA. Yes, dear? + +DELIA. I believe tea is almost ready. I want mine, and I'm sure Mr. +Baxter's hungry. (_He sniggers approvingly_.) Mr. Devenish scorns +food, I expect. + +DEVENISH (_hurt_). Why do you say that? + +DELIA. Aren't you a poet? + +BELINDA. Yes, darling, but that doesn't prevent him eating. He'll be +absolutely lyrical over Betty's sandwiches. + +DEVENISH. You won't deny me that inspiration, I hope, Miss Robinson. + +BELINDA (_taking_ DELIA'S_ arm and moving with her to below deck- +chair_). Well, let's go and see what they're like. + +(DELIA _moves up_ R.C. _to below the porch, accompanied by_ +BAXTER _on her_ R. _and_ DEVENISH, _who follows her on her_ L. +_They all move towards the porch_.) + +Mr. Baxter, just a moment. + +BAXTER (_apologizing to_ DELIA _and moving in front of the others +to back of deck-chair_.) Yes? + +(DELIA _gathers a daffodil from a vase_ R. _and places it in +_DEVENISH'S_ buttonhole_.) + +BELINDA (_secretly_). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must +be a surprise for her. + +BAXTER. Quite so, I understand. + +BELINDA. That's right. (BAXTER _rejoins_ DELIA. _Raising her +voice_.) Oh, Mr. Devenish. + +(DEVENISH, _who is evidently much attracted by_ DELIA, _apologizes +to her and goes back between tree and hammock to_ L. _of_ BELINDA.) + +DEVENISH. Yes, Mrs. Tremayne? + +BELINDA (_secretly_). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must +be a surprise for her. + +DEVENISH. Of course! I shouldn't dream----(_Indignantly_.) +Robinson! What an unsuitable name! + +(BAXTER _and_ DELIA _are just going into the house_.) + +BELINDA (_dismissing_ DEVENISH). All right, I'll catch you up. +(DEVENISH _goes after the other two_.) + +(_Left alone_, BELINDA _laughs happily to herself, and then +begins to look rather aimlessly about her. She picks up her sunshade +and opens it. She comes to the hammock, picks out her handkerchief, +says, "Ah, there you are!" and puts it away. She goes slowly towards +the house_. TREMAYNE _enters from_ L. _and with his back to +the audience tries latch of imaginary gate below scenic painted +gateway_ L. BELINDA _turns her head, hearing imaginary click of the +garden gate_ L. _She comes slowly back_ R.C.) + +BELINDA (_seeing_ TREMAYNE). Have you lost yourself, or something? +No; the latch is this side. ... Yes, that's right. + +(TREMAYNE _comes in. He has been knocking about the world for +eighteen years, and is very much a man, though he has kept his manners. +His hair is greying a little at the sides, and he looks the forty-odd +that he is. Without his moustache and beard he is very different from +the boy_ BELINDA _married_.) + +TREMAYNE ( _with his hat in his hand _). I'm afraid I'm +trespassing. + +BELINDA (_winningly, moving down_ R. _a little _). But it's +such a pretty garden (_turns away, dosing her parasol_), isn't it? + +(TREMAYNE, _half recognizing her, moves to back of hammock and leans +across to obtain a better view of her_.) + +TREMAYNE (_rather confused_). I-I beg your pardon, I-er--- (_He +is wondering if it can possibly be she_. BELINDA _thinks his +confusion is due to the fact that he is trespassing, and hastens to put +him at his ease_.) + +BELINDA. I should have done the same myself, you know. + +TREMAYNE (_pulling himself together_). Oh, but you mustn't think I +just came in because I liked the garden--- + +BELINDA (_clapping her hands_). No; but say you do like it, quick. + +TREMAYNE. It's lovely and--- (_He hesitates_.) + +BELINDA (_hopefully_). Yes? + +TREMAYNE (_with conviction_). Yes, it's lovely. BELINDA (_with +that happy sigh of hers_). O-oh! ... Now tell me what really did +happen? + +TREMAYNE. I was on my way to Marytown--- + +BELINDA. To where? + +TREMAYNE. Marytown. + +BELINDA. Oh, you mean Mariton. + +TREMAYNE. Do I? + +BELINDA. Yes; we always call it Mariton down here. (_Earnestly_.) +You don't mind, do you? + +TREMAYNE (_smiling_). Not a bit. + +BELINDA. Just say it--to see if you've got it right. + +TREMAYNE. Mariton. + +BELINDA (_shaking her head_). Oh no, that's quite wrong. Try it +again (_With a rustic accent_.) Mariton. + +TREMAYNE. Mariton. + +BELINDA. Yes, that's much better .... (_As if it were he who had +interrupted_.) Well, do go on. + +TREMAYNE. I'm afraid it isn't much of an apology really. I saw what +looked like a private road (_points_ L.), but what I rather hoped +wasn't, and--well, I thought I'd risk it. I do hope you'll forgive me. + +BELINDA. Oh, but I love people seeing my garden. Are you staying in +Mariton? + +TREMAYNE. I think so. Oh yes, decidedly. + +BELINDA. Well, perhaps the next time the road won't feel so private. + +TREMAYNE. How charming of you! (_He feels he must know. A piano is +heard off playing "Belinda." The tune is continued until the fall of the +curtain_.) Are you Mrs. Tremayne by any chance? + +BELINDA. Yes. + +TREMAYNE (_nodding to himself_). Yes. + +BELINDA. How did _you_ know? + +TREMAYNE (_hastily inventing, moving down_ L. _below the +hammock_). They use you as a sign-post in the village. Past Mrs. +Tremayne's house and then bear to the left-- + +BELINDA. And you couldn't go past it? + +TREMAYNE. I'm afraid I couldn't. Thank you so much for not minding. +(_Going up to the_ L. _of her_.) Well, I must be getting on, I +have trespassed quite enough. + +BELINDA (_regretfully_). And you haven't really seen the garden +yet. + +TREMAYNE. If you won't mind my going on this way, I shall see some more +on my way out. + +BELINDA. Please do. It likes being looked at. (_With the faintest +suggestion of demureness_.) All pretty things do. + +TREMAYNE. Thank you very much. (_Turns to go up c_.) Er----(_He +hesitates_.) + +BELINDA (_helpfully_). Yes? + +TREMAYNE. I wonder if you'd mind very much if I called one day to thank +you formally for the lesson you gave me in pronunciation? + +BELINDA (_gravely_). Yes. I almost think you ought to. I think it's +the correct thing to do. + +TREMAYNE (_contentedly_). Thank you very much, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA. You'll come in quite formally (_pointing to_ R. _with +her sunshade_) by the front-door next time, won't you, because-- +because that seems the only chance of my getting to know your name. + +TREMAYNE. Oh, I beg your pardon. My name is--er--er--Robinson. + +(_She is highly amused and looks round towards the house, recalling to +her mind_ DELIA.) + +BELINDA (_laughing_). How very odd! + +TREMAYNE (_startled_). Odd? + +BELINDA. Yes; we have some one called Robinson (_nodding towards the +house_) staying in the house. I wonder if she is any relation? + +TREMAYNE (_hastily_). Oh no, no. No, she couldn't be. I have no +relations called Robinson--not to speak of. + +BELINDA. You must tell me all about your relations when you come and +call, Mr. Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. I think we can find something better worth talking about than +that. + +BELINDA. Do you think so? (_He says "Yes" with his eyes, bows, and +moves up_ C. _The piano is now forte. BELINDA accompanies him up a +little, then stops. He turns in entrance up C., and they exchange +glances_. TREMAYNE _exits to_ R., _behind yew hedge. BELINDA +stays looking after him, then moves down to back of table and picking up +the book of poems, gives that happy sigh of hers, only even more +so_.) O-oh! + +(_Enter_ BETTY _from porch_.) + +BETTY. If you please, ma'am, Miss Delia says, are you coming in to tea? + +BELINDA (_looking straight in front of her, and taking no notice +of_ BETTY, _in a happy, dreamy voice_). Betty, ... about +callers .... If Mr. Robinson calls--he's the handsome gentleman who +hasn't been here before (_puts book down_)--you will say, "Not at +home." And he will say, "Oh!" And you will say, "I beg your pardon, +sir, was it Mr. Robinson?" And he will say, "Yes!" And you will say, +"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir---" (_Almost as if she were BETTY, she +begins to move towards the house_.) "This way---" (_she would be +smiling an invitation over her shoulder to_ MR. ROBINSON, _if he +were there, and she were_ BETTY)--"please!" (_And the abandoned +woman goes in to tea_.) + +CURTAIN + + + + ACT II + + + +_It is morning in_ BELINDA'S _hall, a low-roofed, oak-beamed +place, comfortably furnished as a sitting-room. There is an inner and an +outer front-door, both of which are open. Up_ C. _is a door leading +to a small room where hats and coats are kept. A door on the_ L. +_leads towards the living-rooms_. + +DEVENISH _enters from up_ L. _at back, passes the windows of the +inner room and crosses to the porch. He rings the electric bell outside, +then enters through the swing doors_ R.C. BETTY _enters_ R. +_and moves up at back of settee_ R. _to_ DEVENISH _by the swing +doors. He is carrying a large bunch of violets and adopts a very aesthetic +attitude_. + +BETTY. Good morning, sir. + +DEVENISH. Good morning. I am afraid this is an unceremonious hour for a +call, but my sense of beauty urged me hither in defiance of convention. + +BETTY. Yes, sir. + +DEVENISH (_holding up his bouquet to_ BETTY). See, the dew is yet +lingering upon them; how could I let them wait until this afternoon? + +BETTY. Yes, sir; but I think the mistress is out. + +DEVENISH. They are not for your mistress; they are for Miss Delia. + +BETTY. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. If you will come in, I'll see if I +can find her. (_She crosses to the door_ R. _and goes away to +find_ DELIA, _dosing the door after her_.) + +(DEVENISH _tries a number of poses about the room for himself and hit +bouquet. He crosses below the table_ C. _and sits_ L. _of it +and is about to place his elbow on the table when he finds the toy dog +which has been placed there is in his way. He removes it to the centre +of the table and then leans with his elbow on table and finds this pose +unsuitable so he crosses to above the fireplace and leans against the +upper portico, resting on his elbow which slips and nearly prostrates +him. He then crosses up to_ L. _of the cupboard door at back centre +and leans on his elbow against the wall_.) + +(_Enter_ DELIA _from the door_ R.) + +DELIA (_shutting the door and going to_ DEVENISH). Oh, good +morning, Mr. Devenish. + +[Illustration :] + +(DEVENISH _kisses her hand_.) + +I'm afraid my--er--aunt is out. + +DEVENISH. I know, Miss Delia, I know. + +DELIA. She'll be so sorry to have missed you. It is her day for you, +isn't it? + +DEVENISH. Her day for me? + +DELIA. Yes; Mr. Baxter generally comes to-morrow, doesn't he? + +DEVENISH (_jealously_). Miss Delia, if our friendship is to +progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I +take no interest whatever (_coming to back of table_ C.) in Mr. +Baxter's movements. + +DELIA (_moving down_ R. _a little_). Oh, I'm so sorry; I +thought you knew. What lovely flowers! Are they for my aunt? + +DEVENISH. To whom does one bring violets? To modest, shrinking, tender +youth. + +DELIA. I don't think we have anybody here like that. + +DEVENISH (_with a bow and holding out the violets to her_). Miss +Delia, they are for you. + +DELIA (_smelling and taking violets_). Oh, how nice of you! But I'm +afraid I oughtn't to take them from you under false pretences; I don't +shrink. + +DEVENISH. A fanciful way of putting it, perhaps. They are none the less +for you. + +DELIA. Well, it's awfully kind of you. (_Puts flowers down. Then she +moves up to the cupboard. He follows on her_ L. _and opens the +door_.) I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. (_Turning to him +in cupboard doorway_.) Aunt Belinda does all the romancing in our +family. + +DEVENISH. Your aunt is a very remarkable woman. + +DELIA. She is. Don't you dare to say a word against her. (_Takes up a +vase from a chair in cupboard and shakes it as if draining it_.) + +DEVENISH. My dear Miss Delia, nothing could be further from my thoughts. +Why, am I not indebted to her for that great happiness which has come to +me in these last few days? + +DELIA (_surprised_). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything +about it. (_Coming down to_ R. _of table with vase_.) But what +about poor Mr. Baxter? + +DEVENISH (_stiffly, crossing over to fireplace, very annoyed_). I +must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation. + +DELIA (_going up to table behind Chesterfield up_ L.). But I +thought Mr. Baxter and you were such friends. + +(DELIA _takes water carafe from the table and smiles at_ DEVENISH-- +_which he does not see_.) + +Do tell me what's happened. (_Moving down to_ R. _of table_ C., +_she sits and arranges the flowers_.) I seem to have lost myself. + +DEVENISH (_coming to the back of_ C. _table and reclining on +it_.) What has happened, Miss Delia, is that I have learnt at last +the secret that my heart has been striving to tell me for weeks past. As +soon as I saw that gracious lady, your aunt, I knew that I was in love. +Foolishly I took it for granted that it was she for whom my heart was +thrilling. How mistaken I was! Directly you came, you opened my eyes, +and now---- + +DELIA. Mr. Devenish, you don't say you're proposing to me? + +DEVENISH. I am. I feel sure I am. (_Leaning towards her_.) Delia, I +love you. + +DELIA. How exciting of you! + +DEVENISH (_with a modest shrug_). It's nothing; I am a poet. + +DELIA. You really want to marry me? + +DEVENISH. Such is my earnest wish. + +DELIA. But what about my aunt? + +DEVENISH (_simply_). She will be my aunt-in-law. + +DELIA. She'll be rather surprised. + +DEVENISH. Delia, I will be frank with you. (_Sits_.) I admit that I +made Mrs. Tremayne an offer of marriage. + +DELIA (_excitedly_). You really did? Was it that first afternoon I +came? + +DEVENISH. Yes. + +DELIA. Oh, I wish I'd been there! + +DEVENISH (_with dignity, rising and moving to_ L. _of table_). +It is not my custom to propose in the presence of a third party. It is +true that on the occasion you mention a man called Baxter was on the +lawn, but I regarded him no more than the old apple-tree or the +flower-beds, or any other of the fixtures. + +DELIA. What did she say? + +DEVENISH. She accepted me conditionally. + +DELIA. Oh, do tell me! + +DEVENISH. It is rather an unhappy story. This man called Baxter in his +vulgar way also made a proposal of marriage. Mrs. Tremayne was gracious +enough to imply that she would marry whichever one of us fulfilled a +certain condition. + +DELIA. How sweet of her! + +DEVENISH. It is my earnest hope, Miss Delia, that the man called Baxter +will be the victor. As far as is consistent with honour, I shall +endeavour to let Mr. Baxter (_banging the table with his hand_) +win. + +DELIA. What was the condition? + +DEVENISH. That I am not at liberty to tell. + +DELIA. Oh! + +DEVENISH. It is, I understand, to be a surprise for you. + +DELIA. How exciting! (_Rising and taking vase of violets which she +places up_ R.) Mr. Devenish, you have been very frank (_coming to +front of settee_ R. _and sitting_). May I be equally so? + +(DEVENISH _crosses to her and bows in acquiescence_.) Why do you +wear your hair so long? + +DEVENISH (_pleased_). You have noticed it? + +DELIA. Well, yes, I have. + +DEVENISH. I wear it so to express my contempt for the conventions of +so-called society. DELIA. I always thought that people wore it very +very short if they despised the conventions of society. + +DEVENISH. I think that the mere fact that my hair annoys Mr. Baxter is +sufficient justification for its length. + +DELIA. But if it annoys me too? + +DEVENISH (_heroically_). It shall go. (_Sits on settee above_ +DELIA.) + +(BELINDA _enters from up_ L. _with a garden basket supposed to +contain cutlets. She crosses the windows at back_.) + +DELIA (_apologetically_). I told you I wasn't a very romantic +person, didn't I? (_Kindly_.) You can always grow it again if you +fall in love with somebody else. + +DEVENISH. That is cruel of you, Delia. I shall never fall in love again. + +(_Enter_ BELINDA _through swing doors B.C_.) + +BELINDA. Why, it's Mr. Devenish! + +(DEVENISH _rises and kisses her hand somewhat sheepishly_.) + +How nice of you to come so early in the morning! How is Mr. Baxter! + +DEVENISH (_annoyed and crossing behind_ BELINDA _to her_ L.). +I do not know, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_coming down to_ DELIA _and sitting in the place vacated +by DEVENISH_). I got most of the things, Delia. (_To_ DEVENISH.) +"The things," Mr. Devenish, is my rather stuffy way of referring to all +the delightful poems that you are going to eat to-night. + +DEVENISH. I am looking forward to it immensely, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA. I do hope I've got all your and Mr. Baxter's favourite dishes. + +DEVENISH (_annoyed and, moving to_ L. _foot of table_ C.). I'm +afraid Mr. Baxter and I are not likely to appreciate the same things. + +BELINDA (_coyly_). Oh, Mr. Devenish! And you were so unanimous a +few days ago. + +DELIA. I think Mr. Devenish was referring entirely to things to eat. + +BELINDA. I felt quite sad when I was buying the lamb cutlets. To think +that, only a few days before, they had been frisking about with their +mammas, and having poems written about them by Mr. Devenish. There! I'm +giving away the whole dinner. Delia, take him away before I tell him +any more. + +(DELIA _rises, goes to table and picks up water carafe which she +replaces on refectory table up_ L.) + +We must keep some surprises for him. + +DELIA (_to_ DEVENISH _as she crosses back to table_ R. _and +picks up the flowers_). Come along, Mr. Devenish. + +BELINDA (_wickedly_). Are those my flowers, Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH (_advancing to_ BELINDA _and laughing awkwardly, after a +little hesitation, with a bow which might refer to either of them_). +They are for the most beautiful lady in the land. + +BELINDA. Oh, how nice of you! + +(DEVENISH _crosses to door_ R. _and opens it for_ DELIA, +_who follows him and exits_. DEVENISH, _standing above door, +catches BELINDA'S eye and with an awkward laugh follows_ DELIA.) + +BELINDA. I suppose he means Delia--bless them! (_She kisses her hand +towards the door_ R. _She then rises and crosses below the +table_ C., _placing her basket on the_ L. _end of it, to the +fireplace. She rings the bell. Then she moves up on the_ R. _side +of the Chesterfield to the refectory table and takes off her hat. She +takes up a mirror from the table and gives a few pats to her hair, and +as she is doing so BETTY enters from door_ R. _and crosses the room +towards_ C.) + +BELINDA (_pointing to basket on the_ C. _table_). Oh, Betty-- + +(BETTY _moves to back of_ C. _table and takes up the basket. +Crosses above settee and exits through door_ R. BELINDA _is moving +towards the swing doors when she catches sight of_ BAXTER _entering +from the garden up_ R. _She moves quickly to the_ L. _of_ C. _table, +takes up a book and going to Chesterfield_ L., _lies down with her +head to_ R. BAXTER _looks in through the window up_ R., _then crosses +round and enters through the portico and the swing doors_. BELINDA +_pretends to be very busy reading_.) + +BAXTER (_rather nervously, in front of wring doors_). Er--may I +come in, Mrs. Tremayne? + +BELINDA (_dropping her book and turning round with a violent +start_). Oh, Mr. Baxter, how you surprised me! (_She puts her hand +to her heart and sits up and faces him_.) + +BAXTER. I must apologize for intruding upon you at this hour, Mrs. +Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_holding up her hand_). Stop! + +BAXTER (_startled_). What? + +BELINDA. I cannot let you come in like that. + +BAXTER (_looking down at himself_). Like what? + +BELINDA (_dropping her eyes_). You called me Belinda once. + +BAXTER (_coming down to her_). May I explain my position, Mrs. +Tremayne? + +BELINDA. Before you begin--have you been seeing my niece lately? + +BAXTER (_surprised_). No. + +BELINDA. Oh! (_Sweetly_.) Please go on. + +BAXTER. Why, is _she_ lost too? + +BELINDA. Oh no; I just---- Do sit down. + +(BAXTER _moves to the chair_ L. _of_ C. _table and sits_. +BELINDA _rises when he has sat down_.) + +Let me put your hat down somewhere for you. + +BAXTER (_keeping it firmly in his hand_). It will be all right +here, thank you. + +BELINDA (_returning to the Chesterfield and sitting_). I'm dying to +hear what you are going to say. + +BAXTER. First as regards the use of your Christian name. I felt that, as +a man of honour, I could not permit myself to use it until I had +established my right over that of Mr. Devenish. + +BELINDA. All my friends call me Belinda. + +BAXTER. As between myself and Mr. Devenish the case is somewhat +different. Until one of us is successful over the other in the quest +upon which you have sent us, I feel that as far as possible we should +hold aloof from you. + +BELINDA (_pleadingly_). Just say "Belinda" once more, in case +you're a long time. + +BAXTER (_very formally_). Belinda. + +BELINDA. How nicely you say it--Harold. + +BAXTER (_getting out of his seat_). Mrs. Tremayne, I must not +listen to this. + +BELINDA (_meekly_). I won't offend again, Mr. Baxter. Please go on. +(_She motions him to sit--he does so_.) Tell me about the quest; +are you winning? + +BAXTER. I am progressing, Mrs. Tremayne. Indeed, I came here this +morning to acquaint you with the results of my investigations. +(_Clears his throat_.) Yesterday I located a man called Robinson +working upon a farm close by. I ventured to ask him if he had any marks +upon him by which he could be recognized. He adopted a threatening +attitude, and replied that if I wanted any he could give me some. With +the aid of half-a-crown I managed to placate him. Putting my inquiry in +another form, I asked if he had any moles. A regrettable +misunderstanding, which led to a fruitless journey to another part of +the village, was eventually cleared up, and on my return I satisfied +myself that this man was in no way related to your niece. + +BELINDA (_admiringly_). How splendid of you! + +BAXTER. Yes. + +BELINDA. Well, now, we know _he's_ not. (_She holds up one +finger_.) + +BAXTER. Yes. In the afternoon I located another Mr. Robinson following +the profession of a carrier. My first inquiries led to a similar result, +with the exception that in this case Mr. Robinson carried his +threatening attitude so far as to take off his coat and roll up his +sleeves. Perceiving at once that he was not the man, I withdrew. + +BELINDA. How brave you are! + +BAXTER. Yes. + +BELINDA. That makes two. + +BAXTER. Yea. + +BELINDA (_holding up another finger_). It still leaves a good many. +(_Pleadingly_.) Just call me Belinda again. + +BAXTER (_rising and backing to_ R. _a little, nervously_). You +mustn't tempt me, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_penitently_). I won't! + +BAXTER (_going slowly to fireplace and placing his hat down on +armchair below fireplace_). To resume, then, my narrative. This +morning I have heard of a third Mr. Robinson. Whether there is actually +any particular fortune attached to the number three I cannot say for +certain. It is doubtful whether statistics would be found to support the +popular belief. But one likes to flatter oneself that in one's own case +it may be true; and so-- + +BELINDA. And so the third Mr. Robinson--? + +BAXTER. Something for which I cannot altogether account inspires me with +hope. He is, I have discovered, staying at Mariton. This afternoon I go +to look for him. + +BELINDA (_to herself_). Mariton! How funny! I wonder if it's the +same one. + +BAXTER. What one? + +BELINDA. Oh, just one of the ones. (_Gratefully_.) Mr. Baxter, you +are doing all this for _me_. + +BAXTER. Pray do not mention it. I don't know if it's Devonshire +(_going to and sitting_ L. _of_ BELINDA), or the time of the +year, or the sort of atmosphere you create, Mrs. Tremayne, but I feel an +entirely different man. There is something in the air which--yes, I +shall certainly go over to Mariton this afternoon. + +BELINDA (_gravely_). I have had the same feeling sometimes, Mr. +Baxter. I am not always the staid respectable matron which I appear to +you to be. Sometimes I--(_She looks absently at the watch on her +wrist_.) Good gracious! + +BAXTER (_alarmed_). What is it! + +BELINDA (_looking anxiously from the door to him_). Mr. Baxter, I'm +going to throw myself on your mercy. + +BAXTER. My dear Mrs. Tremayne-- + +BELINDA (_looking at her watch again, rising and moving up_ L.C., +_looking at door_). A strange man will be here directly. He must not +find you with me. + +BAXTER (_rising, jealously_). A man? + +BELINDA (_excitedly_). Yes, yes, a man! He is pursuing me with his +attentions. If he found you here, there would be a terrible scene. + +BAXTER. I will defend you from him. + +BELINDA (_crossing down to_ R. _of Chesterfield_). No, no. He +is a big man. He will--he will overpower you. (_Moving_ L. _a +little and looking out of windows_.) + +BAXTER. But you----! + +BELINDA. I can defend myself. I will send him away. But he must not find +you here. You must hide before he overpowers you. + +BAXTER (_with dignity, crossing below table to_ R.). I will +withdraw if you wish it. BELINDA (_following to_ R. _at back of +table_ C.). No, not withdraw, hide. He might see you withdrawing. +(_Leading the way to the cupboard door_.) Quick, in here. + +BAXTER (_embarrassed at the thought that this sort of thing really +only happens in a bedroom farce and moving towards her_). I don't +think I quite---- + +BELINDA (_reassuring him_). It's perfectly respectable; it's where +we keep the umbrellas. (_She takes him by the hand_.) + +BAXTER (_resisting and looking nervously into the cupboard_). I'm +not at all sure that I---- + +BELINDA (_earnestly_). Oh, but don't you see what _trust_ I'm +putting in you? (_To herself_.) Some people are so nervous about +their umbrellas. + +BAXTER. Well, of course, if you--but I don't see why I shouldn't just +slip out of the door before he comes. + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Of course, if you grudge me every little +pleasure----(_Crossing in front of_ BAXTER _towards swing doors +and seeing_ TREMAYNE _coming_.) Quick! Here he is. + +(_She bundles him through the cupboard door and closes it and with a +sign of happiness crosses down to_ C. _table. She sees _BAXTER'S +_bowler hat on the arm-chair below the fireplace. She fetches and +carries it over to the cupboard door, knocks and hands it to him, +saying, _"Your hat!") + +BAXTER (_expostulating and nearly knocking her over as he comes +out_). Well, really I---- + +BELINDA (_bundling him into the cupboard and closing the door_). +Hush! + +(BELINDA _straightens her hair, takes up her book from_ L. +_of_ C. _table and sits, stroking the head of the toy dog and +pretending to read_. TREMAYNE _enters from garden up_ R. _and +through the swing doors up_ R.C. BELINDA _gives an assumed cry of +surprise_.) + +TREMAYNE (_at the swing doors_). It's no good your pretending to be +surprised, because you said I could come. (_Coming down to the back of +the table_ C. _and putting down his hat_.) + +BELINDA (_rising, shaking hands and welcoming him_). But I can +still be surprised that you wanted to come. + +TREMAYNE Oh no, you aren't. + +BELINDA (_marking it off on her fingers_). Just a little bit--that +much. + +TREMAYNE. It would be much more surprising if I hadn't come. + +BELINDA (_crossing to the Chesterfield, picking up her book and +handing it to_ TREMAYNE, _who puts it on the table_). It is a +pretty garden, isn't it? (_She sits on_ R. _end of Chesterfield_.) + +TREMAYNE (_coming to her_). You forget that I saw the garden +yesterday. + +BELINDA. Oh, but the things have grown so much since then. Let me see, +this is the third day you've been and we only met three days ago. (_He +moves behind the Chesterfield to the left end of it_.) And then +you're coming to dinner again to-night. + +TREMAYNE (_eagerly and leaning over the Chesterfield_). Am I? + +BELINDA. Yes. Haven't you been asked? + +TREMAYNE (_going round the left end of the Chesterfield_). No, not +a word. + +BELINDA. Yes, that's quite right; I remember now, I only thought of it +this morning, so I couldn't ask you before, could I? + +TREMAYNE (_earnestly_). What made you think of it then? + +BELINDA (_romantically_). It was at the butcher's. + +TREMAYNE. Eh? + +BELINDA. There was one little lamb cutlet left over and sitting out all +by itself, and there was nobody to love it. And I said to myself, +suddenly, "I know, that will do for Mr. Robinson." (_Protaically_.) +I do hope you like lamb? + +TREMAYNE (_sitting on her left side_). I adore it. + +BELINDA. Oh, I'm so glad I When I saw it sitting there I thought you'd +love it. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more about the rest of the +dinner, because I wouldn't tell Mr. Devenish, and I want to be fair. + +TREMAYNE (_jealously_). Who's Mr. Devenish? + +BELINDA. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here. + +TREMAYNE Is he in love with you too? + +BELINDA. Too? Oh, you mean Mr. Baxter? + +TREMAYNE (_rising and moving to fireplace_). Confound it, that's +three! + +BELINDA (_innocently_). Three? (_She looks up at him and down +again_.) + +TREMAYNE. Who is Mr. Baxter? + +BELINDA. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here. + +TREMAYNE (_turning away and looking into fireplace_). Who is Mr. +Baxter? + +(BAXTER _appears at cupboard doorway_. BELINDA _hears him and +gives a startled look round. She signs to him to go back. BAXTER +retreats immediately and closes door_.) + +BELINDA. Oh, he's a sort of statistician. Isn't that a horrid word to +say? So stishany. + +TREMAYNE. What does he make statistics about? + +BELINDA. Oh (_giving a sly look round at cupboard door_), umbrellas +and things. Don't let's talk about him. + +TREMAYNE. All right, then; (_going up to her jealously_) who is Mr. +Devenish? + +BELINDA. Oh, he's a poet. (_She throws up her eyes and sighs +deeply_.) Ah me! + +TREMAYNE. What does he write poetry about? + +(BELINDA _looks at him, and down again, and then at him again, and +then down, then raises and drops her arms, and gives a little sigh--all +of which means, "Can't you guess?"_) + +What does he write poetry about? + +BELINDA (_obediently_). He wrote "The Lute of Love and other Poems, +by Claude Devenish." + +(TREMAYNE _is annoyed and turns away to the fireplace_.) + +The Lute of Love--(_To herself_.) I haven't been saying that +lately. (_With great expression_.) The Lute of Love--the Lute. +(_She pats her mouth back_.) + +TREMAYNE. And who is Mr. Devenish--! + +BELINDA (_putting her hand on his sleeve_). You'll let me know when +it's my turn, won't you? + +TREMAYNE. Your turn? + +BELINDA. Yes, to ask questions. I love this game--it's just like clumps. +(_She crosses her hands on her lap and waits for the next +question_.) + +TREMAYNE. I beg your pardon. I--er--of course have no right to +cross-examine you like this. + +BELINDA. Oh, do go on, I love it. (_With childish excitement_.) +I've got my question ready. + +TREMAYNE (_smiling and going and sitting beside her again_). I +think perhaps it _is_ your turn. + +BELINDA (_eagerly_). Is it really? (_He nods_.) Well then-- +(_in a loud voice_)--who is Mr. Robinson? + +TREMAYNE (_alarmed_). What? + +BELINDA. I think it's a fair question. I met you three days ago and you +told me you were staying at Mariton. Mariton. You can say it all right +now, can't you? + +TREMAYNE. I think so. + +BELINDA (_coaxingly_). Just say it. + +TREMAYNE. Mariton. + +BELINDA (_clapping her hands_). Lovely! I don't think any of the +villagers do it as well as that. + +TREMAYNE. Well? + +BELINDA (_looking very hard at TREMAYNE--he wonders whether she has +discovered his identity_). Well, that was three days ago. You came +the next day to see the garden, and you came the day after to see the +garden, and you've come this morning--to see the garden; and you're +coming to dinner to-night, and it's so lovely, we shall simply have to +go into the garden afterwards. And all I know about you is that you +haven't any relations called Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. What do I know about Mrs. Tremayne but that she has a relation +called Robinson? + +BELINDA. And two dear friends called Devenish and Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_rising--annoyed_). I was forgetting them. (_Crosses to +below_ L. _end of_ C. _table_.) + +BELINDA (_to herself, with a sly look round at the cupboard_), I +mustn't forget Mr. Baxter. + +TREMAYNE. But what does it matter? What would it matter if I knew +nothing about you? (_Moving up to_ R. _end of Chesterfield and +leaning over it_.) I know everything about you--everything that +matters. + +BELINDA (_leaning back and closing her eyes contentedly_). Tell me +some of them. TREMAYNE (_bending over her earnestly_). Belinda-- + +BELINDA (_still with her eyes shut_). He's going to propose to me. +I can feel it coming. + +TREMAYNE (_starting back_). Confound it! how many men _have_ +proposed to you? + +BELINDA (_surprised_). Since when? + +TREMAYNE. Since your first husband proposed to you. + +BELINDA. Oh, I thought you meant this year. (_Sitting up_.) Well +now, let me see. (_Slowly and thoughtfully_.) One. (_She pushes +up her first finger_.) Two. (_She pushes up the second_.) Three. +(_She pushes up the third finger, holds it there for a moment and then +pushes it gently down again_.) No, I don't think that one ought to +count really. (_She pushes up two more fingers and the thumb_.) Three, +four, five--do you want the names or just the total? + +TREMAYNE (_moving up_ L. _and then over_ R.). This is horrible. + +BELINDA (_innocently_). But anybody can propose. Now if you'd asked +how many I'd accepted-- + +(_He turns sharply to her--annoyed_.) + +Let me see, where was I up to? + +(_He moves down_ R.) + +I shan't count yours, because I haven't really had it yet. + +(BETTY _enters down_ R. _and stands behind settee_.) + +Six, seven--Yes, Betty, what is it? + +BETTY. If you please, ma'am, cook would like to speak to you for a +minute. + +(TREMAYNE _goes up_ R.C.) + +BELINDA (_getting up_). Yes, I'll come. + +(BETTY _goes out, leaving the door open_. BELINDA _crosses Before +the table_.) + +(_To_ TREMAYNE.) You'll forgive me, won't you? You'll find some +cigarettes there. (_Points to table up_ R. TREMAYNE _moves by the +back of the settee and holds the door for_ BELINDA. _She turns to him +in the doorway_.) It's probably about the lamb cutlets; I expect your +little one refuses to be cooked. + +(_She goes out after_ BETTY.) + +(_Left alone_ TREMAYNE _stalks moodily about the room, crossing +it and kicking things which come in his way. Violently, he kicks a +hassock which is above the table_ R. _to under the table_ C., +_then he takes up his hat and moves towards the swing doors and half +opens them. He pauses and considers--then he comes down to the centre +table, throws down his hat, moves round the left end of the table, finds +the dog in the way and then sits on the table with his hands in his +pockets, facing the audience. As he has been moving about the room, he +has muttered the names of_ BAXTER _and_ DEVENISH.) + +DEVENISH (_entering from the door_ R., _which he closes and goes +to foot of the settee R.--surprised_). Hullo! + +(_A pause_.) + +TREMAYNE (_jealously, and rising_). Are you Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH. Yes. + +TREMAYNE. Devenish the poet? + +DEVENISH (_coming up and shaking him warmly by the hand_). My dear +fellow, you know my work? + +TREMAYNE (_grimly_). My dear Mr. Devenish, your name is most +familiar to me. + +DEVENISH. I congratulate you. I thought your great-grand-children would +be the first to hear of me. + +TREMAYNE (_moving to_ L.). My name's Robinson, by the way. + +DEVENISH (_connecting him with_ DELIA). Then let me return the +compliment, Robinson. Your name is familiar to me. + +TREMAYNE (_hastily, and going towards_ DEVENISH). I don't think I'm +related to any Robinsons you know. + +DEVENISH (_dubiously_). Well, no, I suppose not. When I was very +much younger I began a collection of Robinsons. Actually it was only +three days ago, but it seems much longer. (_Thinking of_ DELIA.) +Many things have happened since then. + +TREMAYNE (_uninterested, moving_ L.) Really! + +DEVENISH. There is a man called Baxter--(TREMAYNE _displays his +jealousy of_ BAXTER.) who is still collecting, I believe. For myself, +I am only interested in one of the great family--Delia. + +TREMAYNE (_eagerly, and going quickly to him and placing his hand on +DEVENISH'S left shoulder_). You are interested in _her_? + +DEVENISH. Devotedly. In fact, I am at this moment waiting for her to put +on her hat. + +TREMAYNE (_warmly, banging him on the shoulder with both hands_). +My dear Devenish, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. (_He +seizes his hand and grips it heartily_.) How are you? +(DEVENISH _backs to the settee in pain_.) + +DEVENISH (_sitting on settee, feeling his fingers_). Fairly well, +thanks. + +TREMAYNE (_sitting above him and banging him on the back_). That's +right. + +DEVENISH (_still nursing his hand_). You are a very lucky fellow, +Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. In what way? + +DEVENISH. People you meet must be so very reluctant to say good-bye to +you. Have you ever tried strangling lions or anything like that? + +TREMAYNE (_with a laugh_). Well, as a matter of fact, I have. + +DEVENISH. I suppose you won all right? + +TREMAYNE. In the end, with the help of my beater. + +DEVENISH. Personally I should have backed you alone against any two +ordinary lions. + +TREMAYNE. One was quite enough. As it was, he gave me something to +remember him by. (_Putting up his left sleeve, he displays a deep +scar_.) + +DEVENISH (_looking at it casually_). By Jove, that's a nasty one! +(_He suddenly catches sight of the mole and stares at it fascinated, +then stares up at_ TREMAYNE.) Good heavens! + +TREMAYNE. What's the matter? + +DEVENISH (_clasping his head_). Wait. (_Rising and moving up to +L. of_ TREMAYNE.) Let me think. (_After a pause_.) Have you +ever met a man called Baxter? + +TREMAYNE. No. + +DEVENISH. Would you like to? + +TREMAYNE (_grimly_). Very much indeed. + +DEVENISH. He's the man I told you about who's interested in Robinsons. +He'll be delighted to meet you. (_With a nervous laugh_.) Funny +thing, he's rather an authority on lions. You must show him that scar +of yours; it will intrigue him immensely. (_Earnestly_.) +_Don't_ shake hands with him too heartily just at first; it might +put him off the whole thing. + +TREMAYNE. This Mr. Baxter seems to be a curious man. + +DEVENISH (_absently_). Yes, he is rather odd. (_Looking at his +watch_.) I wonder if I----(_To_ TREMAYNE.) I suppose you won't +be-- (_He stops suddenly. A slight tapping noise comes from the room +where they keep umbrellas_.) + +TREMAYNE. What's that! + +(_The tapping noise is repeated, a little more loudly this time. +DEVENISH moves to end of table_.) + +DEVENISH. Come in. + +(_The door opens and_ BAXTER _comes in nervously, holding his +bowler hat in his hand. He moves towards the swing doors_.) + +BAXTER (_apologetically_). Oh, I just--(TREMAYNE _stands up_) +--I just--(_He goes back again_.) + +DEVENISH (_springing across the room_). Baxter! + +(_The door opens nervously again and BAXTER'S head appears round it_.) + +Come in, Baxter, old man; you're just the very person I wanted. + +(BAXTER _comes in carefully_. DEVENISH _closes the door_.) + +Good man. (_To_ TREMAYNE, _taking_ BAXTER _down_ R., +_and placing his arm round his shoulders_.) This is Mr. Baxter that +I was telling you about. + +(BAXTER _removes_ DEVENISH'S _arm from his shoulders_.) + +TREMAYNE (_moving up to_ BAXTER _and much relieved at the +appearance of his rival_). Oh, is this Mr. Baxter? (_Holding out +his hand with great friendliness_.) How are you, Mr. Baxter? + +DEVENISH (_warningly_). Steady! + +(TREMAYNE _shakes_ BAXTER _quite gently by the hand_.) + +Baxter, this is Mr. Robinson. (_Casually_.) R-o-b-i-n-s-o-n. (_He +looks sideways at_ BAXTER _to see how he takes it_. BAXTER _is +noticeably impressed_.) + +BAXTER. Really? I am very glad to meet you, sir. + +TREMAYNE. Very good of you to say so. + +DEVENISH (_to_ BAXTER, _taking his arm_. BAXTER _is annoyed +and gets free_). Robinson is a great big-game hunter. + +BAXTER (_moving down to_ TREMAYNE). Indeed? I have never done +anything in that way myself, but I'm sure it must be an absorbing +pursuit. + +TREMAYNE. Oh, well, it's something to do. + +DEVENISH (_to_ BAXTER). You must get him to tell you about a +wrestle he had with a lion once. Extraordinary story! (_Looking at his +watch suddenly_.) Jove! I must be off. See you again, Baxter. (_He +bangs_ BAXTER _on the shoulder and moves down to_ TREMAYNE.) +Good-bye, Robinson. No, don't shake hands. I'm in a hurry. (_He looks +at his watch again and goes out hurriedly by the door on the_ R.) + +(TREMAYNE _sits on settee_ R. _and_ BAXTER _on chair_ R. +_of_ C. _table. He puts his hat on the table_.) + +TREMAYNE. Unusual man, your friend Devenish. I suppose it comes of being +a poet. + +BAXTER. I have no great liking for Mr. Devenish-- + +TREMAYNE. Oh, he's all right. + +BAXTER. But I am sure that if he is impressed by anything outside +himself or his own works, it must be something rather remarkable. Pray +tell me of your adventure with the lion. + +TREMAYNE (_laughing_). Really, you mustn't think that I go about +telling everybody my adventures. It just happened to come up. I'm afraid +I shook his hand rather more warmly than I meant, and he asked me if I'd +ever tried strangling lions. That was all. + +BAXTER. And had you? + +TREMAYNE. Well, it just happened that I had. + +BAXTER. Indeed! You came off scatheless, I trust? + +TREMAYNE (_carelessly indicating his arm_). Well, he got me one +across there. + +BAXTER (_rising and coming to above_ TREMAYNE, _obviously +excited_). Really, really. (_Points to his arm_.) One across +there. Not bad, I hope? + +TREMAYNE (_laughing_). Well, it doesn't show unless I do that. +(_He pulls up his sleeve carelessly and_ BAXTER _bends eagerly +over his arm and sees the mole and very slowly looks up at_ TREMAYNE, +_then down at the arm again, then up at_ TREMAYNE.) + +BAXTER. Good heavens! I've found it! (_He runs over to the table and +picks up his hat_.) + +TREMAYNE. Found what? (_He pulls down his sleeve_.) + +BAXTER (_going up_ L.). I must see Mrs. Tremayne. Where's Mrs. +Tremayne? + +TREMAYNE. She went out just now. What's the matter? + +BAXTER. Out! I must find her. This is a matter of life and death. (_He +hurries through the swing doors_.) Mrs. Tremayne! Mrs. Tremayne! +(_He exits_ R. _through the garden_.) + +(TREMAYNE _rises and moves to the swing doors, stares after him in +amazement. Then he pulls up his sleeve, looks at his scar again and +shakes his head. While he is still puzzling over it_, BELINDA +_comes back_ R.) + +BELINDA (_crossing below settee_). Such a to-do in the kitchen! The +cook's given notice--at least she will directly--(_up to_ +TREMAYNE)--and your lamb cutlet slipped back to the shop when nobody was +looking + +(TREMAYNE _looks off at swing doors_) + +and I've got to go into the village again, (_going to the refectory +table and getting her hat_) and ok dear, oh dear, I have such a lot +of things to do! (_Looking across at MR. BAXTER'S door_.) Oh yes, +that's another one. (_Coming back to table_ C. _and putting down +her hat on R. side_.) + +TREMAYNE. Belinda-- (_Moving up to her_.) + +BELINDA. No, not even Belinda. Wait till this evening. + +TREMAYNE. I have a thousand things to say to you; I shall say them this +evening. + +BELINDA (_giving him her hand_). Begin about eight o'clock. Good-bye +till then. + +(_He takes her hand, looks at her for a moment, then suddenly bends +and kisses it, takes up his hat and hurries through the swing doors and +off through the garden to_ L.) + +(BELINDA _stands looking from her hand to him, gives a little +wondering exclamation and then presses the back of her hand against her +cheek, and goes to the swing doors. She turns back, and remembers_ MR. +BAXTER _again. With a smile she goes to the door and taps gently_.) + +BELINDA. Mr. Baxter, Mr. Baxter, you may come in now; he has withdrawn. +(_Moves down a little and then back to_ L. _of the door again_.) +Mr. Baxter, I have unhanded him. (_She opens the door and going in, +finds the room empty_.) Oh! + +(BAXTER _comes quickly through the swing doors_.) + +BAXTER (_meeting_ BELINDA _coming out of the cupboard_). Ah, +(_they both start_) there you are! (_Crossing down to_ R. _end of_ +C. _table, he puts down his hat_.) + +BELINDA (_turning with a start_). Oh, how you frightened me, Mr. +Baxter! I couldn't think what had happened to you. (_She closes the +door_.) I thought perhaps you'd been eaten up by one of the +umbrellas. + +BAXTER. Mrs. Tremayne, I have some wonderful news for you. I have found +Miss Robinson's father. + +BELINDA (_on his_ L., _hardly understanding_). Miss Robinson's +father? + +BAXTER. Yes. _Mr_. Robinson. + +BELINDA. Oh, you mean--(_Points to direction when TREMAYNE has +gone_.) Oh yes, he told me his name was Robinson--Oh, but he's no +relation. + +BAXTER. Wait! I saw his arm. By a subterfuge I managed to see his arm. + +BELINDA (_her eyes opening more and more widely as she begins to +realize_). You saw-- + +BAXTER. I saw the mole. + +BELINDA (_coming down to him faintly as she holds out her own +arm_). Show me. + +BAXTER (_very decorously indicating_). There! + +(BELINDA _holds the place with her other hand, and still looking +at_ MR. BAXTER, _slowly begins to laugh--half-laughter, half-tears, +wonderingly, happily, contentedly_.) + +BELINDA (_moving to_ R. _of table and sitting_). And I didn't +know! + +BAXTER (_moving to back of table_). Mrs. Tremayne, I am delighted +to have done this service for your niece---- + +BELINDA (_to herself_). Of course, _he_ knew all the time. + +BAXTER (_to the world_). Still more am I delighted to have gained +the victory over Mr. Devenish in this enterprise. + +BELINDA. Eighteen years--but I _ought_ to have known. + +BAXTER (_at large_). I shall not be accused of exaggerating when I +say that the odds against such an enterprise were enormous. + +BELINDA. Eighteen years---- And now I've eight whole _hours_ to +wait! + +BAXTER (_triumphantly_). It will be announced to-night. "Mr. +Devenish," I shall say, "young fellow----" (_He arranges his speech in +his mind_.) + +BELINDA (_nodding to herself mischievously_). So I was right, after +all! (_Slowly and triumphantly_.) He _does_ look better without +a beard! + +BAXTER (_with his hand on the back of the chair on the_ L. _side +of the table_). "Mr. Devenish, young fellow, when you matched yourself +against a man of my repute, when you matched yourself against a man-- +matched yourself against a man of my repute (_crossing towards +fireplace_) + +(BELINDA _rises stealthily, takes up her hat and exits through the +swing doors and through the garden up_ R.) + +when you matched yourself against a man who has read papers (_moving +towards centre table_) at Soirees of the Royal Statistical Society----" +(_Looking round the room, he discovers that he is alone. He picks up +his hat from the table and jams it down on his head_.) Unusual! + +(_He moves up towards the swing doors_.) + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III + + + +_It is after dinner in BELINDA'S hall. The log fire, chandelier and +wall brackets are all alight_. BELINDA _is lying on the Chesterfield +with a coffee-cup in her hand_. DELIA, _in the chair down_ L. _below +the fireplace, has picked up "The Lute of Love" from a table and is +reading it impatiently. She also has a coffee-cup in her hand_. + +DELIA (_throwing the book away_). What rubbish he writes! + +BELINDA (_coming back from her thoughts_). Who, dear? + +DELIA. Claude + +(BELINDA _gives her a quick look of surprise_.) + +--Mr. Devenish. (_She rises and stands by the fireplace with her cup +in her hand_.) Of course, he's very young. + +BELINDA. So was Keats, darling. + +DELIA. I don't think Claude has had Keats' advantages. Keats started +life as an apothecary. + +BELINDA. So much nicer than a chemist. + +DELIA. Now, Claude started with nothing to do. + +BELINDA (_mildly_). Do you always call him Claude, darling? I hope +you aren't going to grow into a flirt like that horrid Mrs. Tremayne. + +DELIA. Silly mother! (_She moves to_ BELINDA, _takes her cup, +then crosses to the table and places both the cups on the table-- +seriously_.) I don't think he'll ever be any good till he really gets +work. Did you notice his hair this evening? + +BELINDA (_dreamily_). Whose, dear? + +DELIA (_going to the back of the Chesterfield and to the_ L. _of_ +BELINDA). Mummy, look me in the eye and tell me you are not being bad. + +BELINDA (_having playfully turned her head away and hidden her face +with her handkerchief, says innocently_). Bad, darling? + +DELIA (_moving down to the front of the fireplace_). You've made +Mr. Robinson fall in love with you. + +BELINDA (_happily_). Have I? + +DELIA. Yes; it's serious this time. He's not like the other two. + +BELINDA. However did you know that? + +DELIA. Oh, I know. + +BELINDA. Darling, I believe you've grown up. It's quite time I settled +down. + +DELIA. With Mr. Robinson? + +(BELINDA _sits up and looks thoughtfully at_ DELIA _for a little +time_.) + +BELINDA (_mysteriously_). Delia, are you prepared for a great +secret to be revealed to you? + +DELIA (_childishly and jumping on to the_ L. _arm of the +Chesterfield facing_ BELINDA). Oh, I love secrets. + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Darling, you mustn't take it like that. +This is a great, deep, dark secret; you'll probably need your sal +volatile. + +DELIA (_excitedly_). Go on! + +BELINDA. Well---- (_Looking round the room_.) Shall we have the +lights down a little? + +DELIA. Go on, mummy. + +BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is--(_impressively_)--is not quite the +Robinson he appears to be. + +DELIA. Yes? + +BELINDA. In fact, child, he is---- Darling, hadn't you better come and +hold your mother's hand? + +DELIA (_struggling with some emotion and placing her hand on_ +BELINDA'S _arm, who playfully smacks it_). Go on. + +BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is a--sort of relation of yours; in fact-- +(_playing with her rings and looking down coyly_)--he is your-- +father. (_She looks up at_ DELIA _to see how the news is being +received_.) (DELIA _gives a happy laugh_.) + +Dear one, this is not a matter for mirth. + +DELIA. Darling, it is lovely, isn't it? (_Sliding down to the seat of +the Chesterfield next to_ BELINDA, _who moves along to make room +for her_.) I am laughing because I am so happy. + +BELINDA. Aren't you surprised? + +DELIA. No. You see, Claude told me this morning. (BELINDA _displays +annoyance_.) He found out just before Mr. Baxter. + +BELINDA. Well! Every one seems to have known except me. + +DELIA. Didn't you see how friendly father and I got at dinner? I thought +I'd better start breaking the ice--because I suppose he'll be kissing me +directly. + +BELINDA. Say you like him. + +DELIA. I think he's going to be awfully nice. (_She kisses_ BELINDA +_and rises_.) Does he _know_ you know? + +BELINDA. Not yet. + +DELIA. Oh! (_She moves to the fireplace and warms her hands_.) + +BELINDA. Just at present I've rather got Mr. Baxter on my mind. I +suppose, darling, you wouldn't like him as well as Mr. Devenish! +(_Pathetically_.) You see, they're so used to going about together. + +DELIA. Claude is quite enough. + +BELINDA. I think I must see Mr. Baxter and get it over. Do you mind if I +have Mr. Devenish too? I feel more at home with both of them. I'll give +you him back. Oh dear, I feel so happy to-night! (_She jumps up and +goes to_ DELIA.) And is my little girl going to be happy too? That's +what mothers always say on the stage. I think it's so sweet. + +(_They move together to below table_.) + +DELIA (_smiling at her_). Yes, I think so, mummy. Of course, I'm +not romantic like you. I expect I'm more like father, really. + +BELINDA (_dreamily_). Jack can be romantic now. He was telling me +this morning all about the people he has proposed to. I mean, I was +telling him. Anyhow, he wasn't a bit like a father. Of course, he +doesn't know he is a father yet. Darling, I think you might take him +into the garden; only don't let him know who he is. You see, he ought to +propose to me first, oughtn't he? + +(_The men come in from_ R. TREMAYNE _goes to the foot of the +settee R., DEVENISH to the back of the table up_ R., _while_ +BAXTER _stands at the back of the settee_. BELINDA _moves to the +front of the settee and DELIA sits on the table_.) + +Here you all are! I do hope you haven't been throwing away your cigars, +because smoking is allowed all over the house. + +TREMAYNE (_as he comes to the foot of the settee_). Oh, we've +finished, thank you. + +BELINDA (_going up to the swing doors and opening them_). Isn't it +a wonderful night?--and so warm for April. Delia, you must show Mr. +Robinson the garden by moonlight--it's the only light he hasn't seen it +by. + +DEVENISH (_quickly coming to_ R. _back of table_ C.). I don't +think I've ever seen it by moonlight, Miss Delia. + +BELINDA (_coming down a little_). I thought poets were always +seeing things by moonlight. + +BAXTER (_moving toward_ BELINDA). I was hoping, Mrs. Tremayne, +that--er--perhaps----- + +DELIA (_moving quickly to above_ TREMAYNE _and taking his_ L. +_hand, and pulling him up stage to swing doors_). Come along, Mr. +Robinson. + +(TREMAYNE _looks at_ BELINDA, _who gives him a nod_. BELINDA +_then moves down_ R.) + +TREMAYNE (L. _of_ DELIA). It's very kind of you, Miss Robinson. I +suppose there is no chance of a nightingale? + +BELINDA. There ought to be. I ordered one specially for Mr. Devenish. + +(DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE _go out together_. BELINDA, _with a +sigh, moves over to the Chesterfield and settles herself comfortably +into it_. DEVENISH, _annoyed by_ TREMAYNE'S _attentions to_ DELIA, +_crosses up angrily and looks off through the window up_ L. _above +fireplace, then comes down_ L. _of the Chesterfield to the front +of the fireplace_. BAXTER _moves up to the swing doors angrily watching_ +DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE, _then moves to the window_ R. _and looks off_. +BETTY _then enters with a salver from_ R. _She moves by the back of +the settee to the back of the table_ C., _picks up the coffee-cups and +goes out_ R. BAXTER _then moves over to the window facing the audience, +up_ L. _He looks off, then comes down to the_ R. _of_ BELINDA.) + +Now we're together again. Well, Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH. Er--I-- + +BELINDA. No; I think I'll let Mr. Baxter speak first. I know he's +longing to. + +BAXTER (_leaning on the back of the chair_ L. _of table--he +clears his throat_). H'r'm! Mrs. Tremayne, I beg formally to claim +your hand. + +BELINDA (_sweetly_). On what grounds, Mr. Baxter? + +DEVENISH (_spiritedly_). Yes, sir, on what grounds? + +BAXTER (_coming to_ R. _of Chesterfield, close to_ BELINDA). +On the grounds that, as I told you this morning, I had succeeded in the +quest. + +DEVENISH (_appearing to be greatly surprised_). Succeeded? + +BAXTER. Yes, Mr. Devenish, young fellow, you have lost. (_He moves a +few paces_ R. _to below the chair_ L. _of the table_.) I have +discovered the missing Mr. Robinson. + +DEVENISH (_wiping hit brow and coming to_ BAXTER). Who--where-- + +BAXTER (_dramatically_). Miss Robinson has at this moment gone out +with her father. + +DEVENISH (_placing his hands heavily on_ BAXTER'S _shoulders, who +staggers_). Good heavens! It was he! + +(_BAXTER pats_ DEVENISH _sympathetically and moves to the back of +the Chesterfield and is about to speak to_ BELINDA. _She, however, +silences him and he drops down to the front of the fireplace_.) + +BELINDA (_sympathetically_). Poor Mr. Devenish! + +DEVENISH (_pointing tragically to the table_). And to think that I +actually sat on that table--no, that seat (_he points to the +settee_ R., _then he moves up stage between it and the table_)-- +that I sat there with him this morning, and never guessed! Why, ten +minutes ago I was asking him for the nuts! + +BAXTER. Aha, Devenish, you're not so clever as you thought you were. + +DEVENISH (_coming quickly to the back of the chair_ L. _of the +table_). Why, I must have given you the clue myself! He told me he +had a scar on his arm, and I never thought any more of it. And then I +went away innocently and left you two talking about it. + +BELINDA (_alarmed_). A scar on his arm? + +DEVENISH. Where a lion mauled him. + +(BELINDA _gives a little cry and shudder_.) + +BAXTER. It's quite healed up now, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_looking at him admiringly_). A lion! What you two have +adventured for my sake! + +BAXTER. I suppose you will admit, Devenish, that I may fairly claim to +have won? + +(_Looking the picture of despair,_ DEVENISH _drops down_ L. +_of the chair, droops his head, raises his arms and lets them fall +hopelessly to his sides_.) + +BELINDA. Mr. Devenish, I have never admired you so much as I do at this +moment. (_She extends her_ R. _hand to_ DEVENISH, _who gropes +for it with his_ L. _hand and eventually manages to seize it_.) + +BAXTER (_noticing he is holding her hand, moving to them and looking +at them quizzically--indignantly to_ DEVENISH). I say, you know, +that's not fair. It's all very well to take your defeat like a man, but +you mustn't overdo it. (_They release their hands_.) Mrs. Tremayne, +I claim the reward which I have earned. + +BELINDA (_after a pause and rising_). Mr. Baxter--Mr. Devenish, I +have something to tell you. + +(DEVENISH _moves to her_ R.) + +(BELINDA _kneels upon the Chesterfield facing them. Penitently_.) I +have not been quite frank with you. I think you both ought to know that-- +I--I made a mistake. Delia is not my niece; she is my daughter. (_She +buries her face in her hands_.) + +DEVENISH. Your daughter! I say, how ripping! + +(BELINDA _gives him an understanding look_.) + +BAXTER. Your daughter! + +BELINDA. Yes. + +BAXTER. But--but you aren't old enough to have a daughter of that age. + +BELINDA (_apologetically_). Well, there she is. + +BAXTER. But--but she's grown up. + +BELINDA. Quite. + +BAXTER. Then in that case you must be----(_He hesitates, evidently +working it out_.) + +BELINDA (_hastily_). I'm afraid so, Mr. Baxter. + +BAXTER. But this makes a great difference. I had no idea. Why, when I'm +fifty you would be---- + +BELINDA (_sighing_). Yes, I suppose I should. + +BAXTER. And when I'm sixty---- + +BELINDA (_pleadingly to_ DEVENISH). Can't you stop him? + +DEVENISH (_with a threatening gesture_). Look here, Baxter, another +word from you and you'll never _get_ to sixty. + +BAXTER. And then there's Miss--er--Delia. In the event of our marrying, +Mrs. Tremayne, she, I take it, would be my step-daughter. + +BELINDA. I don't think she would trouble us much, Mr. Baxter. (_With a +sly look at_ DEVENISH.) I have an idea that she will be getting +married before long. (_She again glances at_ DEVENISH, _who +returns her look gratefully_.) + +BAXTER (_moving up_ L. _into the inner room_). None the less, +the fact would be disturbing. + +(DEVENISH _with a wink at_ BELINDA _crosses in front of her and +warms his hands at the fire_. BELINDA _watches_ BAXTER _over +the back of the Chesterfield_.) + +I have never yet considered myself seriously as a step-father. +(_Moving round the refectory table_.) I don't think I am going too +far if I say that to some extent I have been deceived in this matter. +(_He comes down to behind the_ C. _table_.) + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). And so have I. I thought you loved me. + +DEVENISH (_sympathetically_). Yes, yes. + +BELINDA (_turning to him suddenly_). And Mr. Devenish too. + +BAXTER (_moving to_ BELINDA). Er---- + +DEVENISH. Er---- + +(_They stand before her guiltily and have nothing to say_.) + +BELINDA (_with a shrug_). Well, I shall have to marry somebody +else, that's all. + +BAXTER (_moving to below table_). Who? Who? + +BELINDA. I suppose Mr. Robinson. After all, if I am Delia's mother, and +Mr. Baxter says that Mr. Robinson's her father, it's about time we +_were_ married. + +DEVENISH (_eagerly_). Mrs. Tremayne, what fools we are! He +_is_ your husband all the time! + +BELINDA. Yes. + +BAXTER (_moving up to the_ R. _of_ BELINDA). You've had a +husband all the time? + +BELINDA (_apologetically_). I lost him; it wasn't my fault. + +BAXTER. Really, this is very confusing. I don't know where I am. I +gather--I am to gather, it seems, that you are no longer eligible as a +possible wife? + +BELINDA. I am afraid not, Mr. Baxter. + +BAXTER. But this is very confusing--(_moving towards the swing +doors_)--this is very disturbing to a man of my age. For weeks past I +have been regarding myself as a--a possible benedict. I have--ah--taken +steps. (_Back to the_ L. _end of the_ C. _table_.) Only this morning, +in writing to my housekeeper, I warned her that she might hear at +any moment a most startling announcement. + +DEVENISH (_cheerfully_). Oh, that's all right. That might only mean +that you were getting a new bowler-hat. + +BAXTER (_dropping down_ L.C. _a few steps--suddenly_). Ah, and +what about you, sir? How is it that you take this so lightly? +(_Triumphantly_.) I have it. It all becomes clear to me. You have +transferred your affections to her daughter! + +DEVENISH. Oh, I say, Baxter, this is very crude. + +BELINDA. And why should he not, Mr. Baxter? (_Softly_.) He has made +me very happy. + +BAXTER (_staggered_). He has made you happy, Mrs. Tremayne! + +BELINDA. Very happy. + +BAXTER (_thoughtfully_). Oh! Oh ho! Oh ho! (_He takes a turn up +the room into the inner room, muttering to himself_. BELINDA +_kneels and watches him over the back of the Chesterfield. Then he +comes down again to her_ R. _side_.) Mrs. Tremayne, I have taken +a great resolve. (_Solemnly_.) I also will make you happy. +(_Thumping his heart_.) I also will woo Miss Delia. + +BELINDA. Oh! + +DEVENISH. Look here, Baxter-- + +BAXTER (_suddenly crossing and seizing_ DEVENISH'S _arm and +pulling him towards the siding doors up_ R. _between the Chesterfield +and the table_). Come, we will seek Miss Delia together. + +(BELINDA _seizes_ DEVENISH'S _hand as he is passing and he, clinging +to it, nearly pulls her off the Chesterfield. She is very amused_.) + +It may be that she will send us upon another quest in which I shall +again be victorious. + +(BELINDA _releases her hand and slips down into the Chesterfield. +Tempestuously_.) + +Come, I say-- + +(_He marches the resisting_ DEVENISH _to the swing doors_.) + +Let us put it to the touch, to win or lose it all. + +DEVENISH (_turning and appealing to_ BELINDA). Please! + +BELINDA (_gently_). Mr. Baxter... Harold. + +(BAXTER _stops and turns round_.) + +You are too impetuous. I think that as Delia's mother-- + +BAXTER (_coming down_ R. _to the foot of the_ C. +_table_). Your pardon, Mrs. Tremayne. In the intoxication of the +moment I am forgetting. (_Formally_.) I have the honour to ask your +permission to pay my addresses--(_Moves to chair_ L. _of table_.) + +BELINDA. No, no, I didn't mean that. But, as Delia's mother, I ought to +warn you that she is hardly fitted to take the place of your +housekeeper. She is not very domesticated. + +BAXTER (_indignantly_). Not domesticated? (_Sits_ L. _of +table_.) Why, did I not hear her tell her father at dinner that she +had arranged all the flowers? + +BELINDA. There are other things than flowers. + +DEVENISH (_on_ BAXTER'S R., _behind the table_). Bed-socks, +for instance, Baxter. + +(BAXTER _is annoyed_.) + +It's a very tricky thing airing bed-socks. I am sure your house-keeper-- + +BAXTER (_silencing_ DEVENISH). Mrs. Tremayne, she will learn. The +daughter of such a mother... I need say no more. + +BELINDA. Oh, thank you. But there is something else, Mr. Baxter. You are +not being quite fair to yourself. In starting out upon this simultaneous +wooing, you forget that Mr. Devenish has already had his turn--(DEVENISH +_tries to stop her_. BAXTER _turns round and nearly catches +him_.)--this morning alone. You should have yours ... alone ... too. + +DEVENISH. Oh, I say! + +BAXTER. Yes, yes, you are right. I must introduce myself first as a +suitor. I see that. (_Rising, to_ DEVENISH.) You stay here; +_I_ will go alone into the garden, and--(_Moving below table and +up to the swing doors_.) + +BELINDA. It is perhaps a little cold out of doors for people of ... of +our age, Mr. Baxter. Now, in the library-- + +BAXTER (_at the swing doors, turning to her, astonished_). Library? + +BELINDA. Yes. + +BAXTER (_moving down_ R. _a little_). You have a library? + +BELINDA (_to_ DEVENISH). He doesn't believe I have a library. + +DEVENISH. You ought to see the library, Baxter. + +BAXTER (_moving more down to below_ R. _of table_). But you +are continually springing surprises on me this evening, Mrs. Tremayne. +First a daughter, then a husband, and then--a library! I have been here +three weeks, and I never knew you had a library. Dear me, I wonder how +it is that I never saw it? + +BELINDA (_modestly, rising_). I thought you came to see _me_. + +BAXTER. Yes, yes, to see you, certainly. But if I had known you had a +library .... + +BELINDA. Oh, I am so glad I mentioned it. Wasn't it lucky, Mr. Devenish? + +BAXTER. My work has been greatly handicapped of late. + +(DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE _enter the garden from up_ L. _and +pass the window at the back_.) + +BELINDA (_sweetly_). By me? + +BAXTER. I was about to say by lack of certain books to which I wanted to +refer. It would be a great help. (_He moves up R, reflectively +muttering "Library."_) + +BELINDA (_moving below and to_ R. _of_ C. _table_). My +dear Mr. Baxter, my whole library is at your disposal. (_She turns +to_ DEVENISH, _who is on her_ L., _and at the back of the table. +She speaks in a confidential whisper_.) I'm just going to show him +the Encyclopedia Britannica. (_She moves below the settee to the door_ +R.) You won't mind waiting--Delia will be in directly. + +(BAXTER, _still muttering "Library," crosses to the door and opens it +for her. She goes out and he follows her_. DEVENISH _moves to the +R. of the swing doors and welcomes_ DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE. TREMAYNE +_enters from the portico and holds open the swing doors for_ DELIA.) + +DELIA (_speaking from the portico_). Hullo, we're just coming in. + +(_They enter and_ DELIA _moves down_ R. _of the +table_.) + +TREMAYNE. Where's Mrs. Tremayne? + +DEVENISH (_moving to down_ R.). She's gone to the library with +Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_coming down on_ DELIA'S R. _side--carelessly_). Oh, +the library. Where's that? + +DEVENISH (_promptly going towards the door, opening it and standing +above it_). The end door on the right. + +(DELIA _sits on the_ R. _end of the table facing_ R.) + +Right at the end. You can't mistake it. On the right. + +TREMAYNE. Ah, yes. (_He looks round at_ DELIA, _who points +significantly at the door twice_.) Yes. (_He looks at_ DEVENISH.) +Yes. (_He goes out_.) + +(DEVENISH _hastily shuts the door and comes back to_ DELIA.) + +DEVENISH. I say, your mother is a ripper. + +DELIA (_enthusiastically_). Isn't she! (_Remembering_.) At +least, you mean my aunt? + +DEVENISH (_smiling at her_). No, I mean your mother. To think that +I once had the cheek to propose to her. + +DELIA. Oh! Is it cheek to propose to people! + +DEVENISH. To _her_. + +DELIA. But not to me? + +DEVENISH. Oh I say, Delia! + +DELIA (_with great dignity_). Thank you, my name is Miss Robinson-- +I mean, Tremayne. + +DEVENISH. Well, if you're not quite sure which it is, it's much safer to +call you Delia. + +DELIA (_smiling_). Well, perhaps it is. + +DEVENISH. And if I did propose to you, you haven't answered + +DELIA (_sitting in the chair_ R. _of the table_). If you want +an answer now, it's no; but if you like to wait till next April----- + +DEVENISH (_moving up to behind table--reproachfully_). Oh, I say, +and I cut my hair for you the same afternoon. (_Turning quickly_.) +You haven't really told me how you like it yet. + +DELIA. Oh, how bad of me! You look lovely. + +DEVENISH (_sitting at back of the table_). And I promised to give +up poetry for your sake. + +DELIA. Perhaps I oughtn't to have asked you that. + +DEVENISH. As far as I'm concerned, Delia, I'll do it gladly, but, of +course, one has to think about posterity. + +DELIA. But you needn't be a poet. You could give posterity plenty to +think about if you were a statesman. + +DEVENISH. I don't quite see your objection to poetry. + +DELIA. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every +day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me +all about it. + +DEVENISH. Then you _are_ thinking of marrying me! + +DELIA. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to. + +DEVENISH (_he rises and taking her hands, raises her from the chair. +She backs a step to_ R.). Do. It would be rather fun if you did. And +look here--(_he pulls her gently back. They both sit on the table. He +places his arm round her waist_)--I _will_ be a statesman, if +you like, and go up to Downing Street every day, and come back in the +evening and tell you all about it. + +DELIA. How nice of you! + +DEVENISH (_magnificently, holding up his_ L. _hand to +Heaven_). Farewell, Parnassus! + +DELIA (_pulling down his hand_). What does that mean? + +DEVENISH. Well, it means that I've chucked poetry. A statesman's life +is the life for me; behold Mr. Devenish, the new M.P.--(_she holds up +her_ L. _hand admonishingly and he laughs apologetically _)--no, +look here, that was quite accidental. + +DELIA (_smiling at him_). I believe I shall really like you when I +get to know you. + +DEVENISH. I don't know if it's you, or Devonshire, or the fact that I've +had my hair cut, but I feel quite a different being from what I was +three days ago. + +DELIA. You _are_ different. (_They both rise from the table. She +pulls him to_ R. _one step_.) Perhaps it's your sense of humour +coming back. + +DEVENISH. Perhaps that's it. It's a curious feeling. + +DELIA (_pulling him towards the swing doors_). Let's go outside; +there's a heavenly moon. + +DEVENISH. Moon? Moon? Now where have I heard that word before? + +DELIA. What _do_ you mean? + +DEVENISH. I was trying not to be a poet. + +(DELIA _opens the doors_.) + +Well, I'll come with you, but I shall refuse to look at it. (_Putting +his_ L. _hand behind his back, he walks slowly out with her, saying +to himself_) The Prime Minister then left the House. + +(_They cross the windows at the back and go off_ L.) + +(BELINDA _and_ TREMAYNE _come from the library, the latter +holding the door for her to pass_.) + +BELINDA (_moving below the settee across the room_). Thank you. I +don't think it's unkind to leave him, do you? He seemed quite happy. + +TREMAYNE (_following her_). I shouldn't have been happy if we'd +stayed. + +BELINDA (_reaching the Chesterfield she puts her feet up. Her head it +towards_ L.). Yes, but I was really thinking of Mr. Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_above table_ C.). Not of me? + +BELINDA. Well, I thought it was Mr. Baxter's turn. Poor man, he's had a +disappointment lately. + +TREMAYNE (_coming to B. of the Chesterfield--eagerly_). A +disappointment? + +BELINDA. Yes, he thought I was--younger than I was. + +TREMAYNE (_smiling to himself_). How old are you, Belinda? + +BELINDA (_dropping her eyes_). Twenty-two. (_After a pause_.) +He thought I was eighteen. Such a disappointment! + +TREMAYNE (_smiling openly at her_). Belinda, how old are you? + +BELINDA. Just about the right age, Mr. Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. The right age for what? + +BELINDA. For this sort of conversation. + +TREMAYNE. Shall I tell you how old you are? + +BELINDA. Do you mean in figures or--poetically? + +TREMAYNE. I meant----- + +BELINDA. Mr. Devenish said I was as old as the--now, I must get this the +right way round--as old as the----- + +TREMAYNE. I don't want to talk about Mr. Devenish. + +BELINDA (_with a sigh_). Nobody ever does--except Mr. Devenish. As +old as the stars, and as young as the dawn. (_Settling herself +cosily_.) I think that's rather a nice age to be, don't you? + +TREMAYNE. A very nice age to be. + +BELINDA. It's a pity he's thrown me over for Delia; I shall miss that +sort of thing rather. You don't say those sort of things about your +aunt-in-law----not so often. + +TREMAYNE (_eagerly_). He really is in love with Miss Robinson! + +BELINDA. Oh yes. I expect he is out in the moonlight with her now, +comparing her to Diana. + +TREMAYNE. Well, that accounts for _him. _Now what about Baxter? + +BELINDA. I thought I told you. Deeply disappointed to find that I was +four years older than he expected, Mr. Baxter hurried from the +drawing-room and buried himself in a column of the _Encyclopedia +Britannica_. + +TREMAYNE. Well, that settles Baxter. Are there any more men in the +neighbourhood? + +BELINDA (_shaking her head_). Isn't it awful? I've only had those +two for the last three weeks. + +(TREMAYNE _sits on the back of the Chesterfield and looks down at +her_.) + +TREMAYNE. Belinda. + +BELINDA. Yes, Henry! + +TREMAYNE. My name is John. + +BELINDA. Well, you never told me. I had to guess. Everybody thinks they +can call me Belinda without giving me the least idea what their own +names are. You were saying, John? + +TREMAYNE. My friends call me Jack. + +BELINDA. Jack Robinson. That's the man who always goes away so quickly. +I hope you're making more of a stay? + +TREMAYNE (_seizing her by both arms_). Oh, you maddening, maddening +woman! + +BELINDA. Well, I have to keep the conversation going. You do nothing but +say "Belinda." + +TREMAYNE (_taking her hand_). Have you ever loved anybody +seriously, Belinda? + +BELINDA. I don't ever do anything very seriously. The late Mr. Tremayne, +my first husband--Jack---- Isn't it funny, _his_ name was Jack--he +used to complain about it too sometimes. + +TREMAYNE (_with conviction_). Silly ass! + +BELINDA. Ah, I think you are a little hard on the late Mr. Tremayne. + +TREMAYNE. Belinda, I want you to marry me and forget about him. + +BELINDA (_happily to herself and lying back_). This is the proposal +that those lamb cutlets interrupted this morning. + +TREMAYNE. Belinda, I love you--do you understand? + +BELINDA. Suppose my first husband turns up suddenly like--like E. A.? + +TREMAYNE. Like who? + +BELINDA. Well, like anybody. + +TREMAYNE. He won't--I know he won't. Don't you love me enough to risk +it, Belinda? + +BELINDA. I haven't really said I love you at all yet. + +TREMAYNE. Well, say it now. + +(BELINDA _looks at him, and then down again_.) + +You do! Well, I'm going to have a kiss, anyway, (_He kisses her +quickly--moves to_ L. _of Chesterfield_.) There! + +BELINDA (_rising_). O-oh I The late Mr. Tremayne never did that. +(_She powders her nose_.) + +TREMAYNE. I have already told you that he was a silly ass. (_He makes +a move as if to kiss her again_.) + +BELINDA (_holding up her hand and sitting on the_ R. _side of the +Chesterfield_). I shall scream for Mr. Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_sitting down on the Chesterfield, on her_ L, _side_.) +Belinda---- + +BELINDA. Yes, Henry--I mean, Jack? + +TREMAYNE. Do you know who I am! (_He is thoroughly enjoying the +surprise he is about to give her_.) + +BELINDA (_nodding_). Yes, Jack. + +TREMAYNE. Who? + +BELINDA. Jack Tremayne. + +TREMAYNE (_jumping up_). Good heavens, you _know_! + +BELINDA (_gently_). Yes, Jack. + +TREMAYNE (_angrily_). You've known all the time that I was your +husband, and you've been playing with me and leading me on. + +BELINDA (_mildly_). Well, darling, you knew all the time that I was +your wife, and you've been making love to me and leading me on. + +TREMAYNE. That's different. + +BELINDA (_to herself_). That's just what the late Mr. Tremayne +said, and then he slammed the door and went straight off to the Rocky +Mountains and shot bears; and I didn't see him again for eighteen years. + +TREMAYNE (_remorsefully_). Darling, I was a fool then, and I'm a +fool now. + +BELINDA. I was a fool then, but I'm not such a fool now--I'm not going +to let you go. It's quite time I married and settled down. + +TREMAYNE. You darling I (_He kisses her_.) How did you find out who +I was? + +BELINDA (_awkwardly_). Well, it was rather curious, darling. +(_After a pause_.) It was April, and I felt all sort of Aprily, +and--and--there was the garden all full of daffodils--and--and there was +Mr. Baxter--the one we left in the library--knowing all about moles. +He's probably got the M. volume down now. Well, we were talking about +them one day, and I happened to say that the late Mr. Tremayne--that was +you, darling--had rather a peculiar one on his arm. And then he happened +to see it this morning and told me about it. + +TREMAYNE. What an extraordinary story! + +BELINDA. Yes, darling; it's really much more extraordinary than that. I +think perhaps I'd better tell you the rest of it another time. +(_Coaxingly_.) Now show me where the nasty lion scratched you. + +(TREMAYNE _pulls up his sleeve_.) Oh! (_She kisses his arm_.) +You shouldn't have left Chelsea, darling. + +TREMAYNE. I should never have found you if I hadn't. + +BELINDA (_squeezing his arm_). No, Jack, you wouldn't. (_After a +pause_.) I--I've got another little surprise for you if--if you're +ready for it. (_Standing up and moving to the chair_ L. _of the +table_.) Properly speaking, I ought to be wearing white. I shall +certainly stand up while I'm telling you. (_Modestly_.) Darling, we +have a daughter--our little Delia. (_He is standing in front of the +fireplace_.) + +TREMAYNE. Delia? You said her name was Robinson. + +BELINDA. Yes, darling, but you said yours was. One always takes one's +father's name. Unless, of course, you were Lord Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. But you said her name was Robinson before you-- + +(_She makes a playful move_.) + +--Oh, never mind about that. A daughter? Belinda, how could you let me +go and not tell me? + +BELINDA. You forget how you'd slammed the door. It isn't the sort of +thing you shout through the window to a man on his way to America. + +TREMAYNE (_taking her in his arms_). Oh, Belinda, don't let me ever +go away again. + +(DEVENISH _and_ DELIA _enter from up_ L. _and pass the +windows on the way to the swing doors_.) + +BELINDA. I'm not going to, Jack. I'm going to settle down into a staid +old married woman. + +TREMAYNE. Oh no, you're not. You're going on just as you did before. And +I'm going to propose to you every April, and win you, over all the other +men in love with you. + +BELINDA. You darling! (_They embrace_.) + +(DELIA _and_ DEVENISH _come in from the garden_.) + +TREMAYNE (_quietly to_ BELINDA). Our daughter. + +DELIA (_going up to_ TREMAYNE). You're my father. + +TREMAYNE. If you don't mind very much, Delia. + +DELIA. You've been away a long time. + +TREMAYNE. I'll do my best to make up for it. + +BELINDA. Delia, darling, I think you might kiss your poor old father. + +(_As the does to,_ DEVENISH _suddenly and hastily kisses_ +BELINDA _on the cheek_.) + +DEVENISH. Just in case you're going to be my mother-in-law. + +TREMAYNE. We seem to be rather a family party. + +BELINDA (_suddenly_). There! (_Moving to the door_ L.) We've +forgotten Mr. Baxter again. + +BAXTER (_who has come in quietly with a book in his hand_). Oh, don't mind +about me, Mrs. Tremayne. I've enjoyed myself immensely. (_He crosses to +the arm-chair below the fireplace and places it in front of the fire_.) + +(BELINDA _and_ TREMAYNE _move up into the inner room by the +refectory table and embrace, their backs to_ BAXTER. DELIA _and_ +DEVENISH _are by the swing doors. They also embrace, their backs to_ +BAXTER.) + +(_Referring to his book_.) I have been collecting some most valuable +information on (looking round at them and sitting in the arm-chair and +continuing to read) lunacy in the--er--county of Devonshire. + +(_The_ CURTAIN _falls_.) + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Belinda, by A. A. Milne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BELINDA *** + +***** This file should be named 6992.txt or 6992.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/9/9/6992/ + +Produced by Curtis A. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!**** + + +Title: Belinda + +Author: A. A. Milne + +Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6992] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on February 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BELINDA *** + + + + +This eBook was published by Curtis A. Weyant, Stan Goodman, +Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +BELINDA + +An April Folly in Three Acts + +BY + +A. A. MILNE + + + + +CHARACTERS + + + +Produced by Mr. Dion Boucioault at the New Theatre, London, on April 8, +1918, with the following cast:-- + + BELINDA TREMAYNE .......... _Irene Vanbrugh_. + DELIA (her Daughter) ...... _Isabel Elsom_. + HAROLD BAXTER ............. _Dion Boucicault_. + CLAUDE DEVENISH ........... _Dennis Neilson-Terry_. + JOHN TREMAYNE ............. _Ben Webster_. + BETTY ..................... _Anne Walden_. + +The action takes place in Belinda's country-house in Devonshire at the +end of April, the first act in the garden and the second and last acts +in the hall + + + +[Illustration] + + + +BELINDA + + + +ACT I + + +_It is a lovely April afternoon--a foretaste of summer--in_ +BELINDA'S garden_. + +BETTY, _a middle-aged servant, is fastening a hammock--its first +appearance this year--to a tree down_ L. _In front there is a +garden-table, with a deck-chair on the right of it and a straight-backed +one to the left. There are books, papers, and magazines on the +table_. BELINDA, _of whom we shall know more presently, is on the +other side of the open windows which look on to the garden, talking +to_ BETTY, _who crosses to_ R. _of hammock, securing it to +tree_ C. + +BELINDA (_from inside the house_). Are you sure you're tying it up +tightly enough, Betty? + +BETTY (_coming to front of hammock_). Yes, ma'am; I think it's +firm. + +BELINDA. Because I'm not the fairy I used to be. + +BETTY (_testing hammock_). Yes, ma'am; it's quite firm this end +too. + +BELINDA (_entering from portico with sunshade open_). It's not the +ends I'm frightened of; it's the middle where the weight's coming. +(_Comes down_ R. _and admiring_.) It looks very nice. (_She crosses +at back of wicker table, hanging her hand-bag on hammock. Closes and +places her sunshade at back of tree_ C.) + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA (_trying the middle of it with her hand_). I asked them at +the Stores if they were quite _sure_ it would bear me, and they +said it would take anything up to--I forget how many tons. I know I +thought it was rather rude of them. (_Looking at it anxiously, and +trying to get in, first with her right leg and then her left_.) How +does one get in! So trying to be a sailor! + +BETTY. I think you sit in it, ma'am, and then (_explaining with her +hands_) throw your legs over. + +BELINDA. I see. (_She sits gingerly in the hammock, and then, with a +sudden flutter of white, does what_ BETTY _suggests_.) Yes. +(_Regretfully_.) I'm afraid that was rather wasted on you, Betty. +We must have some spectators next time. + +BETTY. Yea, ma'am + +BELINDA. Cushions. + +(BETTY _moves to and takes a cushion from deck-chair_. BELINDA +_assists her to place it at back of her head_. BETTY _then goes +to back of hammock and arranges_ BELINDA'S _dress_.) + +There! Now then, Betty, about callers. + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. If Mr. Baxter calls--he is the rather prim gentleman-- + +BETTY. Yea, ma'am; the one who's been here several times before. +(_Moves to below and_ L. _of hammock_.) + +BELINDA (_giving_ BETTY _a quick look_). Yes. Well, if he +calls, you'll say, "Not at home." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. He will say (_imitating_ MR. BAXTER), "Oh--er--oh--er-- +really." Then you'll smile very sweetly and say, "I beg your pardon, was +it Mr_. BAXTER_?" And he'll say, "Yes!" and you'll say, "Oh, I beg +your pardon, sir; _this_ way, please." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. That's right, Betty. Well now, if Mr. Devenish calls--he is the +rather poetical gentleman-- + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am; the one who's _always_ coming here. + +BELINDA (_with a pleased smile_). Yes. Well, if he calls you'll +say, "Not at home." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. He'll immediately (_extending her arms descriptively_) +throw down his bunch of flowers and dive despairingly into the moat. +You'll stop him, just as he is going in, and say, "I beg your pardon, +sir, was it Mr_. DEVENISH_?" And he will say, "Yes!" and you will +say, "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; _this_ way, please." + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. And suppose they both call together? + +BELINDA (_non-plussed for a moment_). We won't suppose anything so +exciting, Betty. + +BETTY. No, ma'am. And suppose any other gentleman calls? + +BELINDA (_with a sigh_). There aren't any other gentlemen. + +BETTY. It might be a clergyman, come to ask for a subscription like. + +BELINDA. If it's a clergyman, Betty, I shall--I shall want your +assistance out of the hammock first. + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +BELINDA. That's all. + +(BETTY _crosses below table and chairs to porch_.) + +To anybody else I'm not at home, (_Trying to secure book on table and +nearly falling out of the hammock_.) Oh, just give me that little +green book. (_Pointing to books on the table_.) The one at the +bottom there--that's the one. (BETTY _gives it to her_.) Thank you. +(_Reading the title_.) "The Lute of Love," by Claude Devenish. +(_To herself as she turns the pages_.) It doesn't seem much for +half-a-crown when you think of the _Daily Telegraph_ .... Lute ... +Lute .... I should have quite a pretty mouth if I kept on saying that. +(_With a great deal of expression_.) Lute! (_She pats her mouth +back_.) + +BETTY. Is that all, ma'am? + +BELINDA. That's all. (BETTY _prepares to go_.) Oh, what am I +thinking of! (_Waving to the table_.) I want that review; I think +it's the blue one. (_As_ BETTY _begins to look_.) It has an +article by Mr. Baxter on the "Rise of Lunacy in the Eastern Counties"-- + +(BETTY _gives her "The Nineteenth Century" Magazine_.) + +--yes, that's the one. I'd better have that too; I'm just at the most +exciting place. You shall have it after _me, _Betty. + +BETTY. Is that all, ma'am? + +BELINDA. Yes, that really is all. + +(BETTY _goes into the house_.) + +BELINDA (_reading to herself very pronouncedly_). "It is a matter of +grave concern to all serious students of social problems--" (_Putting +the review down in hammock and shaking her head gently_.) But not in +April. (_Lazily opening the book and reading_.) "Tell me where is +love"--well, that's the question, isn't it? (_She lies back in the +hammock lazily and the book of poems falls from her to the ground_. +DELIA _comes into the garden, from Paris. She is decidedly a modern +girl, pretty and self-possessed. Her hair is half-way up; waiting for +her birthday, perhaps. She sees her mother suddenly, stops, and then +goes on tiptoe to the head of the hammock. She smiles and kisses her +mother on the forehead_. BELINDA, _looking supremely unconscious, +goes on sleeping_. DELIA _kisses her lightly again_. BELINDA +_wakes up with an extraordinarily natural start, and is just about to +say, _"Oh, Mr. Devenish--you mustn't!"--_when she sees_ DELIA.) +Delia! (_They kiss each other frantically_.) + +DELIA. Well, mummy, aren't you glad to see me? + +BELINDA. My darling child! + +DELIA. Say you're glad. + +BELINDA (_sitting up_). My darling, I'm absolutely--(DELIA +_crosses round to_ L. _of hammock_.) Hold the hammock while I +get out, dear; we don't want an accident. (DELIA _holds the_ L. +_end of it and_ BELINDA _struggles out, leaving the magazine and +her handkerchief in the hammock_.) They're all right when you're +there, and they'll bear two tons, but they're horrid getting in and out +of. (_Kissing her again_.) Darling, it really _is_ you? + +DELIA. Oh, it is jolly seeing you again. I believe you were asleep. + +BELINDA (_with dignity_). Certainly not, child. I was reading +_The Nineteenth Century_--(_with an air_)--and after. (_Earnestly_) +Darling, wasn't it next Thursday you were coming back? + +DELIA. No, this Thursday, silly. + +BELINDA (_penitently_). Oh, my darling, and I was going over to +Paris to bring you home. + +DELIA. I half expected you. + +BELINDA. So confusing their both being called Thursday. And you were +leaving school for the very last time. If you don't forgive me, Delia, I +shall cry. + +DELIA (_kissing her and stroking her hand fondly_). Silly mother! + +(BELINDA _sits down in the deck-chair and_ DELIA _sits on the +table_.) + +BELINDA. Isn't it a lovely day for April, darling! I've wanted to say +that to somebody all day, and you're the first person who's given me the +chance. Oh, I said it to Betty, but she only said, "Yes, ma'am." + +DELIA. Poor mother! + +BELINDA (_jumping up suddenly, crossing to_ L. _of and +kissing_ DELIA _again_). I simply must have another one. And to +think that you're never going back to school any more. (_Looking at +her fondly, and backing to_ L.) Darling, you _are_ looking +pretty. + +DELIA. Am I? + +BELINDA. Lovely. (_She kisses her once more, then she takes the +cushion from the hammock, moves at back of table and places it on the +head of the deck-chair_.) And now you're going to stay with me for +just as long as you want a mother. (_Anxiously moving to_ R. _of +deckchair_.) Darling, you didn't mind being sent away to school, did +you? It _is_ the usual thing, you know. + +DELIA. Silly mother! of course it is. + +BELINDA (_relieved, and sitting on deck-chair_). I'm so glad you +think so too. + +DELIA. Have you been very lonely without me? + +BELINDA (_with a sly look at_ DELIA). Very. + +DELIA (_turning to_ BELINDA _and holding up a finger_). The +truth, mummy! + +BELINDA. I've missed you horribly, Delia. (_Primly_.) The absence +of female companionship of the requisite-- + +DELIA. Are you really all alone? + +BELINDA (_smiling mysteriously and coyly_). Well, not always, of +course. + +DELIA (_excitedly, at she slips off the table, and backing to_ L. +_a little_). Mummy, I believe you're being bad again. + +BELINDA. Really, darling, you forget that I'm old enough to be--in fact, +am--your mother. + +DELIA (_nodding her head_). You are being bad. + +BELINDA (_rising with dignity and drawing herself up to her full +height, moving_ L.). My child, that is not the way to--Oh, I say, +what a lot taller I am than you! (_Turning her back to_ DELIA +_and comparing sizes_.) + +DELIA. And prettier. + +BELINDA (_playfully rubbing noses with_ DELIA). Oh, do you think +so? (_Firmly, but pleased_.) Don't be silly, child. + +DELIA (_holding up a finger_). Now tell me all that's been +happening here at once. + +BELINDA (_with a sigh_). And I was just going to ask you how you +were getting on with your French. (_Sits in deck-chair_.) + +DELIA. Bother French! You've been having a much more interesting time +than I have, so you've got to tell. + +BELINDA (_with a happy sigh_). O-oh! (_She sinks back into her +chair_.) + +DELIA (_taking off her coat_). Is it like the Count at Scarborough? + +BELINDA (_surprised and pained_). My darling, what do you mean? + +DELIA. Don't you remember the Count who kept proposing to you at +Scarborough? I do. (_Places coat on hammock_.) + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Dear one, you were the merest child, +paddling about on the beach and digging castles. + +DELIA (_smiling to herself_). I was old enough to notice the Count. + +BELINDA (_sadly_). And I'd bought her a perfectly new spade! How +one deceives oneself! + +DELIA (_at table and leaning across, with hands on table_). And +then there was the M.P. who proposed at Windermere. + +BELINDA. Yes, dear, but it wasn't seconded--I mean he never got very far +with it. + +DELIA. And the artist in Wales. + +BELINDA. Darling child, what a memory you have. No wonder your teachers +are pleased with you. + +DELIA (_settling herself comfortably in deck-chair_ L. _of_ +BELINDA _and lying in her arms_). Now tell me all about this one. + +BELINDA (_meekly_). Which one? + +DELIA (_excitedly_). Oh, are there lots? + +BELINDA (_severely_). Only two. + +DELIA. Two! You abandoned woman! + +BELINDA. It's something in the air, darling. I've never been in +Devonshire in April before. + +DELIA. Is it really serious this time? + +BELINDA (_pained_). I wish you wouldn't say this time, Delia. It +sounds so unromantic. If you'd only put it into French--_cette +fois_--it sounds so much better. _Cette fois_. (_Parentally_.) +When one's daughter has just returned from an expensive schooling in +Paris, one likes to feel----- + +DELIA. What I meant, dear, was, am I to have a stepfather at last? + +BELINDA. Now you're being too French, darling. + +DELIA. Why, do you still think father may be alive? + +BELINDA. Why not? It's only eighteen years since he left us, and he was +quite a young man then. + +DELIA. Yes, but surely, surely you'd have heard from him in all those +years, if he'd been alive? + +BELINDA. Well, he hasn't heard from _me, _and I'm still alive. + +DELIA (_looking earnestly at her mother, rises and moves_ L.C.). I +shall never understand it. + +BELINDA. Understand what? + +DELIA. Were you as heavenly when you were young as you are now? + +BELINDA (_rapturously_). Oh, I was sweet! + +DELIA. And yet he left you after only six months. + +BELINDA (_rather crossly, sitting up_). I wish you wouldn't keep on +saying he left me. I left him too. + +DELIA (_running to and kneeling in front of_ BELINDA _and looking +anxiously into her face_). Why? + +BELINDA (_smiling to herself_). Well, you see, he was quite certain +he knew how to manage women, and I was quite certain I knew how to +manage men. (_Thoughtfully_.) If only one of us had been certain, +it would have been all right. + +DELIA (_seriously_). What really happened, mummy? I'm grown up now, +so I think you ought to tell me. + +BELINDA (_thoughtfully_). That was about all, you know ... except +for his beard. + +DELIA. Had he a beard? (_Laughing_.) How funny! + +BELINDA (_roaring with laughter, in which_ DELIA _joins_). +Yes, dear, it was; but he never would see it. He took it quite +seriously. + +DELIA. And did you say dramatically, "If you really loved me, you'd take +it off"? + +BELINDA (_apologetically_). I'm afraid I did, darling. + +DELIA. And what did he say? + +BELINDA. He said--_very_ rudely--that, if I loved _him, _I'd +do my hair in a different way. + +DELIA (_sinks down on her haunches, facing the audience_). How +ridiculous! + +BELINDA (_touching her hair_). Of course, I didn't do it like this +then. I suppose we never ought to have married, really. + +DELIA. Why did you? + +BELINDA. Mother rather wanted it. (_Solemnly_.) Delia, never get +married because your mother---- Oh, I forgot; _I'm_ your mother. + +DELIA. And I don't want a better one ... (_They embrace_.) And so +you left each other? + +BELINDA. Yes. + +DELIA. But, darling, didn't you tell him there was going to be a Me? + +BELINDA. Oh no! + +DELIA. I wonder why not? + +BELINDA. Well, you see, if I had, he might have wanted to stay. + +DELIA. But---- + +BELINDA (_hurt_). If he didn't want to stay for _me, _I didn't +want him to stay for _you_. (_Penitently_.) Forgive me, darling, +but I didn't know you very well then. We've been very happy together, +haven't we? + +DELIA (_going to the hammock, sitting in it and dangling her +legs_). I should think we have. + +BELINDA (_leaning back in chair_). I don't want to deny you +anything, and, of course, if you'd like a stepfather (_looking down +modestly_) or two-- + +DELIA. Oh, you _have_ been enjoying yourself. + +BELINDA. Only you see how awkward it would be if Jack turned up in the +middle of the wedding, like--like Eugene Aram. + +DELIA. Enoch Arden, darling. + +BELINDA. It's very confusing their having the same initials. Perhaps I'd +better call them both E. A. in future and then I shall be safe. Well, +anyhow it would be awkward, darling, wouldn't it? Not that I should know +him from Adam after all these years--except for a mole on his left arm. + +DELIA. Perhaps Adam had a mole. + +BELINDA. No, darling; you're thinking of Noah. He had two. + +DELIA (_thoughtfully_). I wonder what would happen if you met +somebody whom you really _did_ fall in love with? + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Now you're being serious, and it's +April. + +DELIA. Aren't these two--the present two--serious? + +BELINDA. Oh no! They think they are, but they aren't a bit, really. +Besides, I'm doing them such a lot of good. I'm sure they'd hate to +marry me, but they love to think they're in love with me, and--_I_ +love it, and--and _they_ love it, and--and we _all_ love it. + +DELIA (_rising and crossing to_ BELINDA). You really are the +biggest, darlingest baby who ever lived. (_Kisses her_.) Do say I +shan't spoil your lovely times. + +BELINDA (_surprised_). Spoil them? Why, you'll make them more +lovely than ever. + +DELIA (_turning away and sitting on table_). Well, but do they know +you have a grown-up daughter? + +BELINDA (_suddenly realizing and sitting up_). Oh! + +DELIA. It doesn't really matter, because you don't look a day more than +thirty. + +BELINDA (_absently_). No. (_Hurriedly_.) I mean, how sweet of +you--only---- + +DELIA. What! + +BELINDA (_playing with her rings_). Well, one of them, Mr. Baxter-- +Harold--(_she looks quickly up at_ DELIA _and down again in +pretty affectation, but she is really laughing at herself all the +time_) he writes statistical articles for the Reviews--percentages +and all those things. He's just the sort of man, if he knew that I was +your mother, to work it out that I was more than thirty. The other one, +Mr. Devenish--Claude--(_she looks up and down as before_) he's +rather, rather poetical. He thinks I came straight from heaven--last +week. + +DELIA (_laughing and jumping up and crossing below deck-chair to_ +R. _towards house_). I think _I'd_ better go straight back to +Paris. + +BELINDA (_jumping up and catching her firmly by the left arm_). You +will do nothing of the sort. (_Pulling_ DELIA _back to centre_.) +You will take off that hat--(_she lets go of the arm and begins to +take out the pin_) which is a perfect duck, and I don't know why I +didn't say so before--(_she puts the hat down on the table_) and +let me take a good look at you (_she does so_), and kiss you (_she +does so, then crosses_ DELIA _below her and takes her towards the +house_), and then we'll go to your room and unpack and have a lovely +talk about clothes. And then we'll have tea. + +(BETTY _comes in and stands up at back_.) + +And now here's Betty coming in to upset all our delightful plans, just +when we'vt made them. (BELINDA _and_ DELIA _are now on_ BETTY'S R.) + +DELIA (_leaving_ BELINDA _and shaking hands with_ BETTY). How +are you, Betty? I've left school. + +BETTY. Very nicely, thank you, miss. (_Backing to_ L. _and +admiring_.) You've grown. + +BELINDA (_moving to and patting the top of_ DELIA'S _head_). +I'm much taller than she is... (_Crossing to_ BETTY _in front +of_ DELIA.) Well, Betty, what is it? + +BETTY. The two gentlemen, Mr. Baxter and Mr. Devenish, have both called +together, ma'am. + +BELINDA (_excited_). Oh! How--how very simultaneous of them! + +DELIA (_eagerly, going towards house_). Oh, do let me see them! + +BELINDA (_stopping her_). Darling, you'll see plenty of them before +you've finished. (_To_ BETTY _in an exaggerated whisper_.) What have +you done with them? + +BETTY. They're waiting in the hall, ma'am, while I said I would see if +you were at home. + +BELINDA. All right, Betty. Give me two minutes and then show them out +here. + +BETTY. Yes, ma'am. + +(BETTY _crosses below_ BELINDA _and_ DELIA _and exits into +the house_.) + +BELINDA (_taking_ DELIA _down_ R. _a step_). They can't +do much harm to each other in two minutes. + +DELIA (_taking her hat from table_). Well, I'll go and unpack. +(_She goes back to_ BELINDA.) You really won't mind my coming down +afterwards? + +BELINDA. Of course not. (_A little awkwardly, taking_ DELIA'S +_arm and moving down_ R.) Darling one, I wonder if you'd mind--just +at first--being introduced as my niece. (_By now at foot of deck- +chair_.) You see, I expect they're in a bad temper already +(_now_ C.), having come here together, and we don't want to spoil +their day entirely. + +DELIA (_smiling, on_ BELINDA'S L.). I'll be your mother if you +like. + +BELINDA. Oh no, that wouldn't do, because then Mr. Baxter would feel +that he ought to ask your permission before paying his attentions to me. +He's just that sort of man. A niece is so safe--however good you are at +statistics, you can't really prove anything. + +DELIA. All right, mummy. + +BELINDA (_enjoying herself_). You'd like to be called by a +different name, wouldn't you? There's something so thrilling about +taking a false name. Such a lot of adventures begin like that. How would +you like to be Miss Robinson, darling? It's a nice easy one to remember. +(_Persuasively_.) And you shall put your hair up so as to feel more +disguised. What fun we're going to have! + +DELIA. You baby! All right, then, I'm Miss Robinson, your favourite +niece. (_She takes her jacket from the hammock and moves towards the +house_.) + +BELINDA. How sweet of you! No, no, not that way--you'll meet them. +(_Following quickly up between tree and table to_ DELIA, _who has +now reached the house_.) Oh, I'm coming with you to do your hair. +(_Moving up_ C., _arm in arm with_ DELIA.) You don't think you're +going to be allowed to do it yourself, when so much depends on it, and +husbands leave you because of it, and---- + +(BELINDA, _seeing_ BETTY _entering from house, hurries_ DELIA +_up_ R., _and they bob down behind the yew hedge_ R. BETTY _comes +from the house into the garden, crossing to centre and up stage +looking for_ BELINDA, _followed by_ MR. BAXTER _and_ MR. DEVENISH. +BAXTER _gives an angry look round at_ DEVENISH _as he enters._ MR. +BAXTER _is forty-five, prim and erect, with close-trimmed moustache and +side-whiskers. His clothes are dark and he wears a bowler-hat_. MR. +DEVENISH _is a long-haired, good-looking boy in a n glig costume; +perhaps twenty-two years old, and very scornful of the world._ BAXTER +_crosses to_ L. _below_ BETTY, _and turns to her with a sharp inquiring +glance_. DEVENISH _moves down_ R., _languidly admiring the garden_.) + +BETTY (_looking about her surprised_). The mistress was here a +moment ago. (_The two heads pop up from behind the hedge and then down +again immediately_. BELINDA _and_ DELIA _exeunt_ R.). I expect she'll +be back directly, if you'll just wait. + +(_She goes back into the house_.) + +(BAXTER, _crossing to_ R., _meets_ DEVENISH _who has moved +up_ R. BAXTER _is annoyed and with an impatient gesture comes down +between the tree and the table to chair_ L. _and sits_. DEVENISH +_throws his felt hat on to the table and walks to the back of the +hammock. He sees the review in the hammock and picks it up_.) + +DEVENISH. Good heavens, Baxter, she's been reading your article! + +BAXTER. I dare say she's not the only one. + +DEVENISH. That's only guesswork (_going to back of table_); you +don't know of anyone else. + +BAXTER (_with contempt_). How many people, may I ask, have bought +your poems? + +DEVENISH (_loftily_). I don't write for the mob. + +BAXTER. I think I may say that of my own work. + +DEVENISH. Baxter, I don't want to disappoint you, but I have reluctantly +come to the conclusion that you are one of the mob. (_Throws magazine +down on table, annoyed_.) Dash it! what are you doing in the country +at all in a bowler-hat? + +BAXTER. If I wanted to be personal, I could say, "Why don't you get your +hair cut?" Only that form of schoolboy humour doesn't appeal to me. + +DEVENISH. This is not a personal matter; I am protesting on behalf of +nature. (_Leaning against tree_.) What do the birds and the flowers +and the beautiful trees think of your hat? + +BAXTER. If one began to ask oneself what the _birds_ thought of +things--(_He pauses_.) + +DEVENISH. Well, and why shouldn't one ask oneself? It is better than +asking oneself what the Stock Exchange thinks of things. + +BAXTER. Well (_looking up at_ DEVENISH'S _extravagant hair_), +it's the nesting season. Your hair! (_Suddenly_.) Ha! ha! ha! ha! +ha! ha! + +DEVENISH (_hastily smoothing it down_). Really, Baxter, you're +vulgar. (_He turns away and resumes his promenading, going down R. and +then round deck-chair to front of hammock. Suddenly he sees his book on +the grass beneath the hammock and makes a dash for it_.) Ha, my book! +(_Gloating over it_.) Baxter, she reads my book. + +BAXTER. I suppose you gave her a copy. + +DEVENISH (exultingly). Yes, I gave her a copy. My next book will be hers +and hers alone. + +BAXTER. Then let me say that, in my opinion, you took a very great +liberty. + +DEVENISH. Liberty! And this from a man who is continually forcing his +unwelcome statistics upon her. + +BAXTER. At any rate, I flatter myself that there is no suggestion of +impropriety in anything that _I_ write. + +DEVENISH. I'm not so sure about that, Baxter. + +BAXTER. What do you mean, sir? + +DEVENISH. Did you read The Times this month on the new reviews! + +BAXTER. Well! + +DEVENISH. Oh, nothing. It just said, "Mr. Baxter's statistics are +extremely suggestive." + +(BAXTER _makes a gesture of annoyance_.) + +I haven't read them, so of course I don't know what you've been up to. + +BAXTER (_rising, turning away in disgust and crossing up_ L). Pah! + +DEVENISH. Poor old Baxter! (_Puts book of poems down on table and +crosses below chair and gathers a daffodil from a large vase down_ R. +_and saying_ "Poor old Baxter!" _ad lib_. BAXTER _moves round back +of hammock and to_ R., _collides with_ DEVENISH _and much annoyed +goes down between table and tree towards chair down_ L.) Baxter-- +(_moving to and leaning against tree_ R.) + +BAXTER (_turning to_ DEVENISH _crossly_). I wish you wouldn't +keep calling me "Baxter." + +DEVENISH. Harold. + +(BAXTER _displays annoyance, and continues his walk to_ L.) + +BAXTER. It is only by accident--an accident which we both deplore--that +we have met at all, and in any case I am a considerably older man than +yourself. (_Sits_ L.) + +DEVENISH. Mr. Baxter--father--(_gesture of annoyance from_ BAXTER)-- +I have a proposal to make. We will leave it to this beautiful flower to +decide which of us the lady loves. + +BAXTER (_turning round_). Eh? + +DEVENISH (_pulling off the petals_). She loves me, she loves Mr. +Baxter, she loves me, she loves Mr. Baxter--(BELINDA _appears in the +porch_)--Heaven help her!--she loves me-- + +BELINDA (_coming down_ R.). What are you doing, Mr. Devenish! + +DEVENISH (_throwing away the flower and bowing very low_). My lady. + +(BAXTER _rises quickly_.) + +BAXTER (removing his bowler-hat stiffly). Good afternoon, Mrs. Tremayne. + +(_She gives her left hand to_ DEVENISH, _who kisses it, and her +right to_ BAXTER, _who shakes it_.) + +BELINDA. How nice of you both to come! + +BAXTER. Mr. Devenish and I are inseparable--apparently. + +BELINDA. You haven't told me what you were doing, Mr. Devenish. Was it +(_plucking an imaginary flower_) "This year, next year?" or "Silk, +satin--" + +DEVENISH. My lady, it was even more romantic than that. I have the +honour to announce to your ladyship that Mr. Baxter is to be a sailor. +(_Dances round imitating the hornpipe_.) + +BELINDA (_to_ BAXTER). Doesn't he talk nonsense? + +BAXTER. He'll grow out of it. I did. + +BELINDA (_moving down_ R. _and then to centre towards +hammock_). Oh, I hope not. I love talking nonsense, and I'm ever so +old. (_As they both start forward to protest_.) Now which one of +you will say it first? + +DEVENISH. You are as old as the stars and as young as the dawn. + +BAXTER. You are ten years younger than I am. + +BELINDA. What sweet things to say! I don't know which I like best. + +DEVENISH. Where will my lady sit! + +BELINDA (_with an exaggerated curtsy_). I will recline in the +hammock, an it please thee, my lord------ + +(BAXTER _goes to the right of the hammock, saying_ "Allow me." +DEVENISH _moves to the left of the hammock and holds it, takes up a +cushion which_ BAXTER _snatches from him and places in hammock +again_.) + +--only it's rather awkward getting in, Mr. Baxter. Perhaps you'd both +better look at the tulips for a moment. + +BAXTER. Oh--ah--yes. (_Crosses down_ R., _turns his back to the +hammock and examines the flowers_.) + +DEVENISH (leaning over her). If only------ + +BELINDA. You'd better not say anything, Mr. Devenlsh. Keep it for your +next volume. (_He turns away and examines flowers on_ L. _She +sits on hammock_.) One, two, three--(_throws her legs over_)-- +that was better than last time. (_They turn round to see her safely in +the hammock_. DEVENISH _leans against the_ L. _tree at her feet, +and_ BAXTER _draws the deck-chair from the right side of the table +and turns it round towards her. He presses his hat more firmly on +and sits down_.) I wonder if either of you can guess what I've been +reading this afternoon! + +DEVENISH (_looking at her lovingly_). I know. + +BELINDA (_giving him a fleeting look_). How did you know? + +DEVENISH. Well, I----- + +BELINDA (_to_ BAXTER). Yes, Mr. Baxter, it was your article I was +reading. If you'd come five minutes earlier you'd have found me +wrestling--I mean revelling in it. + +BAXTER. I am very greatly honoured, Mrs. Tremayne. Ah--it seemed to me a +very interesting curve showing the rise and fall of----- + +BELINDA. I hadn't got up to the curves. They _are_ interesting, +aren't they? They are really more in Mr. Devenish's line. (_To_ +DEVENISH.) Mr. Devenish, it was a great disappointment to me that all +the poems in your book seemed to be written to somebody else. + +DEVENISH. It was before I met you, lady. They were addressed to the +goddess of my imagination. It is only in these last few weeks that I +have discovered her. + +BELINDA. And discovered she was dark and not fair. + +DEVENISH. She will be dark in my next volume. + +BELINDA. Oh, how nice of her! + +BAXTER (_kindly_). You should write a real poem to Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_excitedly_). Oh do! "To Belinda." I don't know what +rhymes, except cinder. You could say your heart was like a cinder--all +burnt up. + +DEVENISH (_pained_). Oh, my lady, I'm afraid that is a cockney +rhyme. + +BELINDA. How thrilling! I've never been to Hampstead Heath. + +DEVENISH. "Belinda." It is far too beautiful to rhyme with anything but +itself. + +BELINDA. Fancy! But what about Tremayne? (_Singing_.) Oh, I am Mrs. +Tremayne, and I don't want to marry again. + +DEVENISH (_protesting_). My lady! + +BAXTER (_protesting_). Belinda! + +BELINDA (_pointing excitedly to_ BAXTER). There, that's the first +time he's called me Belinda! This naughty boy--(_indicating_ +DEVENISH)--is always doing it--by accident. + +DEVENISH. Are you serious? + +BELINDA. Not as a rule. + +DEVENISH. You're not going to marry again? + +BELINDA. Well, who could I marry? + +DEVENISH and BAXTER (_together_). Me! + +BELINDA (_dropping her eyes modestly_). But this is England. + +BAXTER (_rising and taking off his hat, which he places on table, and +going up to_ BELINDA). Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age--of my +greater years--to speak first. + +DEVENISH. Mrs. Tremayne, I-- + +BELINDA (_kindly to_ DEVENISH). You can speak afterwards, Mr. +Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together. (_To_ +BAXTER, _giving encouragement_.) Yes? + +BAXTER (_moving down a little and then returning to_ BELINDA). Mrs. +Tremayne, I am a man of substantial position--(DEVENISH _sniggers-- +to_ BAXTER'S _great annoyance_.) and perhaps I may say of some +repute in serious circles. + +(DEVENISH _sniggers again_.) + +All that I have, whether of material or mental endowment, I lay at your +feet, together with an admiration which I cannot readily put into words. +As my wife I think you would be happy, and I feel that with you by my +side I could achieve even greater things. + +BELINDA. How sweet of you! But I ought to tell you that I'm no good at +figures. + +DEVENISH (_protesting_). My lady-- + +BELINDA. I don't mean what you mean, Mr. Devenish. You wait till it's +your turn. (_To_ BAXTER.) Yes? + +BAXTER (_very formally_). I ask you to marry me, Belinda. + +BELINDA (_settling herself happily and closing her eyes_). O-oh!... +Now it's _your_ turn, Mr. Devenish. + +DEVENISH (_excitedly_). Money--thank Heaven, I have no money. +Reputation--thank Heaven, I have no reputation. + +(BAXTER, _very annoyed, moves down and sits on deck-chair_.) + +What can I offer you? Dreams--nothing but dreams. Come with me and I +will show you the world through my dreams. What can I give you? Youth, +freedom, beauty-- + +BAXTER. Debts. + +BELINDA (_still with her eyes shut_). You mustn't interrupt, Mr. +Baxter. + +DEVENISH (_leaning across hammock_). Belinda, marry me and I will +open your eyes to the beauty of the world. Come to me! + +BELINDA (_happily_). O-oh! You've got such different ways of +putting things. How can I choose between you? + +DEVENISH. Then you will marry one of us? + +BELINDA. You know I really _oughtn't_ to. + +BAXTER. I don't see why not. + +BELINDA. Well, there's just a little difficulty in the way. + +DEVENISH. What is it? I will remove it. For you I could remove anything +--yes, even Baxter. (_He looks at_ BAXTER, _who is sitting more +solidly than ever in his chair_.) + +BELINDA. And anyhow I should have to choose between you. + +DEVENISH (_in a whisper_), choose me. + +BAXTER (_stiffly_). Mrs. Tremayne does not require any prompting. A +fair field and let the best man win. + +DEVENISH (_going across to and slapping the astonished_ BAXTER +_on the back_). Aye, let the best man win! Well spoken, Baxter. +(BAXTER _is very annoyed. To_ BELINDA _and going back to her_ +L.) Send us out into the world upon some knightly quest, lady, and let +the victor be rewarded. + +BAXTER. I--er--ought to say that I should be unable to go very far. I +have an engagement to speak at Newcastle on the 2lst. + +DEVENISH. Baxter, I will take no unfair advantage of you. Let the beard +of the Lord Mayor of Newcastle be the talisman that my lady demands; I +am satisfied. + +BAXTER. This sort of thing is entirely contrary to my usual mode of +life, but I will not be outfaced by a mere boy. (_Rising_.) I am +prepared. (_Going to her_.) + +DEVENISH. Speak, lady. + +BELINDA (_speaking in a deep, mysterious voice_). Gentlemen, ye put +wild thoughts into my head. In sooth, I _am_ minded to send ye +forth upon a quest that is passing strange. Know ye that there is a maid +journeyed hither, hight Robinson--whose--(_in her natural voice_) +what's the old for aunt? + +BAXTER (_hopefully_). Mother's sister. + +BELINDA. You know, I think I shall have to explain this in ordinary +language. You won't mind very much, will you, Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH. It is the spirit of this which matters, not the language +which clothes it. + +BELINDA. Oh, I'm so glad you think so. Well, now about Miss Robinson. +She's my niece and she's just come to stay with me, and--poor girl-- +she's lost her father. Absolutely lost him. He disappeared ever such a +long time ago, and poor Miss Robinson--Delia--naturally wants to find +him. Poor girl! she _can't_ think where he is. + +DEVENISH (_nobly_). I will find him. + +BELINDA. Oh, thank you, Mr. Devenish; Miss Robinson would be so much +obliged. + +BAXTER. Yes--er--but what have we to go upon? Beyond the fact that his +name is Robinson-- + +BELINDA. I shouldn't go on _that_ too much. You see, he may easily +have changed it by now. He was never very much of a Robinson. Nothing to +do with Peter or any of those. + +DEVENISH. I will find him. + +BAXTER (_with a look of annoyance at_ DEVENISH). Well, can you tell +us what he's like? + +BELINDA. Well, it's such a long time since I saw him. (_Looking down +modestly_.) Of course, I was quite a girl then. The only thing I know +for certain is that he has a mole on his left arm about here. (_She +indicates a spot just below the elbow_. BAXTER _examines it +closely_.) + +DEVENISH (_folding his arms and looking nobly upwards_). I will +find him. + +BAXTER. I am bound to inform you, Mrs. Tremayne, that even a trained +detective could not give you very much hope in such a case. However, I +will keep a look-out for him, and, of course, if-- + +DEVENISH. Fear not, lady, I will find him. + +BAXTER (_annoyed_). Yes, you keep on saying that, but what have you +got to go on? + +DEVENISH (_grandly_). Faith! The faith which moves mountains. + +BELINDA. Yes, and this is only just one small mole-hill, Mr. Baxter. + +BAXTER. Yes, but still-- + +BELINDA. S'sh! here is Miss Robinson. + +(BAXTER _takes up his hat and moves below the deck-chair to_ R. +_to meet_ DELIA.) + +If Mr. Devenish will hold the hammock while I alight--we don't want an +accident-- + +(DELIA _comes out of the house_.) + +--I can introduce you. (_He helps her to get out, holding the +hammock_.) Thank you. Delia darling (DELIA _moves down_ R.) this +is Mr. Baxter,--and Mr. Devenish. My niece, Miss Robinson-- + +(DELIA _shakes hands with_ BAXTER _and moves to_ C. _below_ +BELINDA _and shakes hands with_ DEVENISH.) + +DELIA. How do you do? + +BELINDA. Miss Robinson has just come over from France. _Man Dieu, quel +pays!_ + +BAXTER. I hope you had a good crossing, Miss Robinson. + +DELIA. Oh, I never mind about the crossing. (_Very slowly and +shyly_.) Aunt Belinda----(_She stops and smiles_.) + +BELINDA. Yes, dear? + +DELIA. I believe tea is almost ready. I want mine, and I'm sure Mr. +Baxter's hungry. (_He sniggers approvingly_.) Mr. Devenish scorns +food, I expect. + +DEVENISH (_hurt_). Why do you say that? + +DELIA. Aren't you a poet? + +BELINDA. Yes, darling, but that doesn't prevent him eating. He'll be +absolutely lyrical over Betty's sandwiches. + +DEVENISH. You won't deny me that inspiration, I hope, Miss Robinson. + +BELINDA (_taking_ DELIA'S_ arm and moving with her to below deck- +chair_). Well, let's go and see what they're like. + +(DELIA _moves up_ R.C. _to below the porch, accompanied by_ +BAXTER _on her_ R. _and_ DEVENISH, _who follows her on her_ L. +_They all move towards the porch_.) + +Mr. Baxter, just a moment. + +BAXTER (_apologizing to_ DELIA _and moving in front of the others +to back of deck-chair_.) Yes? + +(DELIA _gathers a daffodil from a vase_ R. _and places it in +_DEVENISH'S_ buttonhole_.) + +BELINDA (_secretly_). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must +be a surprise for her. + +BAXTER. Quite so, I understand. + +BELINDA. That's right. (BAXTER _rejoins_ DELIA. _Raising her +voice_.) Oh, Mr. Devenish. + +(DEVENISH, _who is evidently much attracted by_ DELIA, _apologizes +to her and goes back between tree and hammock to_ L. _of_ BELINDA.) + +DEVENISH. Yes, Mrs. Tremayne? + +BELINDA (_secretly_). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must +be a surprise for her. + +DEVENISH. Of course! I shouldn't dream----(_Indignantly_.) +Robinson! What an unsuitable name! + +(BAXTER _and_ DELIA _are just going into the house_.) + +BELINDA (_dismissing_ DEVENISH). All right, I'll catch you up. +(DEVENISH _goes after the other two_.) + +(_Left alone_, BELINDA _laughs happily to herself, and then +begins to look rather aimlessly about her. She picks up her sunshade +and opens it. She comes to the hammock, picks out her handkerchief, +says, "Ah, there you are!" and puts it away. She goes slowly towards +the house_. TREMAYNE _enters from_ L. _and with his back to +the audience tries latch of imaginary gate below scenic painted +gateway_ L. BELINDA _turns her head, hearing imaginary click of the +garden gate_ L. _She comes slowly back_ R.C.) + +BELINDA (_seeing_ TREMAYNE). Have you lost yourself, or something? +No; the latch is this side. ... Yes, that's right. + +(TREMAYNE _comes in. He has been knocking about the world for +eighteen years, and is very much a man, though he has kept his manners. +His hair is greying a little at the sides, and he looks the forty-odd +that he is. Without his moustache and beard he is very different from +the boy_ BELINDA _married_.) + +TREMAYNE ( _with his hat in his hand _). I'm afraid I'm +trespassing. + +BELINDA (_winningly, moving down_ R. _a little _). But it's +such a pretty garden (_turns away, dosing her parasol_), isn't it? + +(TREMAYNE, _half recognizing her, moves to back of hammock and leans +across to obtain a better view of her_.) + +TREMAYNE (_rather confused_). I-I beg your pardon, I-er--- (_He +is wondering if it can possibly be she_. BELINDA _thinks his +confusion is due to the fact that he is trespassing, and hastens to put +him at his ease_.) + +BELINDA. I should have done the same myself, you know. + +TREMAYNE (_pulling himself together_). Oh, but you mustn't think I +just came in because I liked the garden--- + +BELINDA (_clapping her hands_). No; but say you do like it, quick. + +TREMAYNE. It's lovely and--- (_He hesitates_.) + +BELINDA (_hopefully_). Yes? + +TREMAYNE (_with conviction_). Yes, it's lovely. BELINDA (_with +that happy sigh of hers_). O-oh! ... Now tell me what really did +happen? + +TREMAYNE. I was on my way to Marytown--- + +BELINDA. To where? + +TREMAYNE. Marytown. + +BELINDA. Oh, you mean Mariton. + +TREMAYNE. Do I? + +BELINDA. Yes; we always call it Mariton down here. (_Earnestly_.) +You don't mind, do you? + +TREMAYNE (_smiling_). Not a bit. + +BELINDA. Just say it--to see if you've got it right. + +TREMAYNE. Mariton. + +BELINDA (_shaking her head_). Oh no, that's quite wrong. Try it +again (_With a rustic accent_.) Mariton. + +TREMAYNE. Mariton. + +BELINDA. Yes, that's much better .... (_As if it were he who had +interrupted_.) Well, do go on. + +TREMAYNE. I'm afraid it isn't much of an apology really. I saw what +looked like a private road (_points_ L.), but what I rather hoped +wasn't, and--well, I thought I'd risk it. I do hope you'll forgive me. + +BELINDA. Oh, but I love people seeing my garden. Are you staying in +Mariton? + +TREMAYNE. I think so. Oh yes, decidedly. + +BELINDA. Well, perhaps the next time the road won't feel so private. + +TREMAYNE. How charming of you! (_He feels he must know. A piano is +heard off playing "Belinda." The tune is continued until the fall of the +curtain_.) Are you Mrs. Tremayne by any chance? + +BELINDA. Yes. + +TREMAYNE (_nodding to himself_). Yes. + +BELINDA. How did _you_ know? + +TREMAYNE (_hastily inventing, moving down_ L. _below the +hammock_). They use you as a sign-post in the village. Past Mrs. +Tremayne'a house and then bear to the left-- + +BELINDA. And you couldn't go past it? + +TREMAYNE. I'm afraid I couldn't. Thank you so much for not minding. +(_Going up to the_ L. _of her_.) Well, I must be getting on, I +have trespassed quite enough. + +BELINDA (_regretfully_). And you haven't really seen the garden +yet. + +TREMAYNE. If you won't mind my going on this way, I shall see some more +on my way out. + +BELINDA. Please do. It likes being looked at. (_With the faintest +suggestion of demureness_.) All pretty things do. + +TREMAYNE. Thank you very much. (_Turns to go up c_.) Er----(_He +hesitates_.) + +BELINDA (_helpfully_). Yes? + +TREMAYNE. I wonder if you'd mind very much if I called one day to thank +you formally for the lesson you gave me in pronunciation? + +BELINDA (_gravely_). Yes. I almost think you ought to. I think it's +the correct thing to do. + +TREMAYNE (_contentedly_). Thank you very much, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA. You'll come in quite formally (_pointing to_ R. _with +her sunshade_) by the front-door next time, won't you, because-- +because that seems the only chance of my getting to know your name. + +TREMAYNE. Oh, I beg your pardon. My name is--er--er--Robinson. + +(_She is highly amused and looks round towards the house, recalling to +her mind_ DELIA.) + +BELINDA (_laughing_). How very odd! + +TREMAYNE (_startled_). Odd? + +BELINDA. Yes; we have some one called Robinson (_nodding towards the +house_) staying in the house. I wonder if she is any relation? + +TREMAYNE (_hastily_). Oh no, no. No, she couldn't be. I have no +relations called Robinson--not to speak of. + +BELINDA. You must tell me all about your relations when you come and +call, Mr. Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. I think we can find something better worth talking about than +that. + +BELINDA. Do you think so? (_He says "Yes" with his eyes, bows, and +moves up_ C. _The piano is now forte. BELINDA accompanies him up a +little, then stops. He turns in entrance up C., and they exchange +glances_. TREMAYNE _exits to_ R., _behind yew hedge. BELINDA +stays looking after him, then moves down to back of table and picking up +the book of poems, gives that happy sigh of hers, only even more +so_.) O-oh! + +(_Enter_ BETTY _from porch_.) + +BETTY. If you please, ma'am, Miss Delia says, are you coming in to tea? + +BELINDA (_looking straight in front of her, and taking no notice +of_ BETTY, _in a happy, dreamy voice_). Betty, ... about +callers .... If Mr. Robinson calls--he's the handsome gentleman who +hasn't been here before (_puts book down_)--you will say, "Not at +home." And he will say, "Oh!" And you will say, "I beg your pardon, +sir, was it Mr. Robinson?" And he will say, "Yes!" And you will say, +"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir---" (_Almost as if she were BETTY, she +begins to move towards the house_.) "This way---" (_she would be +smiling an invitation over her shoulder to_ MR. ROBINSON, _if he +were there, and she were_ BETTY)--"please!" (_And the abandoned +woman goes in to tea_.) + +CURTAIN + + + + ACT II + + + +_It is morning in_ BELINDA'S _hall, a low-roofed, oak-beamed +place, comfortably furnished as a sitting-room. There is an inner and an +outer front-door, both of which are open. Up_ C. _is a door leading +to a small room where hats and coats are kept. A door on the_ L. +_leads towards the living-rooms_. + +DEVENISH _enters from up_ L. _at back, passes the windows of the +inner room and crosses to the porch. He rings the electric bell outside, +then enters through the swing doors_ R.C. BETTY _enters_ R. +_and moves up at back of settee_ R. _to_ DEVENISH _by the swing +doors. He is carrying a large bunch of violets and adopts a very aesthetic +attitude_. + +BETTY. Good morning, sir. + +DEVENISH. Good morning. I am afraid this is an unceremonious hour for a +call, but my sense of beauty urged me hither in defiance of convention. + +BETTY. Yes, sir. + +DEVENISH (_holding up his bouquet to_ BETTY). See, the dew is yet +lingering upon them; how could I let them wait until this afternoon? + +BETTY. Yes, sir; but I think the mistress is out. + +DEVENISH. They are not for your mistress; they are for Miss Delia. + +BETTY. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. If you will come in, I'll see if I +can find her. (_She crosses to the door_ R. _and goes away to +find_ DELIA, _dosing the door after her_.) + +(DEVENISH _tries a number of poses about the room for himself and hit +bouquet. He crosses below the table_ C. _and sits_ L. _of it +and is about to place his elbow on the table when he finds the toy dog +which has been placed there is in his way. He removes it to the centre +of the table and then leans with his elbow on table and finds this pose +unsuitable so he crosses to above the fireplace and leans against the +upper portico, resting on his elbow which slips and nearly prostrates +him. He then crosses up to_ L. _of the cupboard door at back centre +and leans on his elbow against the wall_.) + +(_Enter_ DELIA _from the door_ R.) + +DELIA (_shutting the door and going to_ DEVENISH). Oh, good +morning, Mr. Devenish. + +[Illustration :] + +(DEVENISH _kisses her hand_.) + +I'm afraid my--er--aunt is out. + +DEVENISH. I know, Miss Delia, I know. + +DELIA. She'll be so sorry to have missed you. It is her day for you, +isn't it? + +DEVENISH. Her day for me? + +DELIA. Yes; Mr. Baxter generally comes to-morrow, doesn't he? + +DEVENISH (_jealously_). Miss Delia, if our friendship is to +progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I +take no interest whatever (_coming to back of table_ C.) in Mr. +Baxter's movements. + +DELIA (_moving down_ R. _a little_). Oh, I'm so sorry; I +thought you knew. What lovely flowers! Are they for my aunt? + +DEVENISH. To whom does one bring violets? To modest, shrinking, tender +youth. + +DELIA. I don't think we have anybody here like that. + +DEVENISH (_with a bow and holding out the violets to her_). Miss +Delia, they are for you. + +DELIA (_smelling and taking violets_). Oh, how nice of you! But I'm +afraid I oughtn't to take them from you under false pretences; I don't +shrink. + +DEVENISH. A fanciful way of putting it, perhaps. They are none the less +for you. + +DELIA. Well, it's awfully kind of you. (_Puts flowers down. Then she +moves up to the cupboard. He follows on her_ L. _and opens the +door_.) I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. (_Turning to him +in cupboard doorway_.) Aunt Belinda does all the romancing in our +family. + +DEVENISH. Your aunt is a very remarkable woman. + +DELIA. She is. Don't you dare to say a word against her. (_Takes up a +vase from a chair in cupboard and shakes it as if draining it_.) + +DEVENISH. My dear Miss Delia, nothing could be further from my thoughts. +Why, am I not indebted to her for that great happiness which has come to +me in these last few days? + +DELIA (_surprised_). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything +about it. (_Coming down to_ R. _of table with vase_.) But what +about poor Mr. Baxter? + +DEVENISH (_stiffly, crossing over to fireplace, very annoyed_). I +must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation. + +DELIA (_going up to table behind Chesterfield up_ L.). But I +thought Mr. Baxter and you were such friends. + +(DELIA _takes water carafe from the table and smiles at_ DEVENISH-- +_which he does not see_.) + +Do tell me what's happened. (_Moving down to_ R. _of table_ C., +_she sits and arranges the flowers_.) I seem to have lost myself. + +DEVENISH (_coming to the back of_ C. _table and reclining on +it_.) What has happened, Miss Delia, is that I have learnt at last +the secret that my heart has been striving to tell me for weeks past. As +soon as I saw that gracious lady, your aunt, I knew that I was in love. +Foolishly I took it for granted that it was she for whom my heart was +thrilling. How mistaken I was! Directly you came, you opened my eyes, +and now---- + +DELIA. Mr. Devenish, you don't say you're proposing to me? + +DEVENISH. I am. I feel sure I am. (_Leaning towards her_.) Delia, I +love you. + +DELIA. How exciting of you! + +DEVENISH (_with a modest shrug_). It's nothing; I am a poet. + +DELIA. You really want to marry me? + +DEVENISH. Such is my earnest wish. + +DELIA. But what about my aunt? + +DEVENISH (_simply_). She will be my aunt-in-law. + +DELIA. She'll be rather surprised. + +DEVENISH. Delia, I will be frank with you. (_Sits_.) I admit that I +made Mrs. Tremayne an offer of marriage. + +DELIA (_excitedly_). You really did? Was it that first afternoon I +came? + +DEVENISH. Yes. + +DELIA. Oh, I wish I'd been there! + +DEVENISH (_with dignity, rising and moving to_ L. _of table_). +It is not my custom to propose in the presence of a third party. It is +true that on the occasion you mention a man called Baxter was on the +lawn, but I regarded him no more than the old apple-tree or the flower- +beds, or any other of the fixtures. + +DELIA. What did she say? + +DEVENISH. She accepted me conditionally. + +DELIA. Oh, do tell me! + +DEVENISH. It is rather an unhappy story. This man called Baxter in his +vulgar way also made a proposal of marriage. Mrs. Tremayne was gracious +enough to imply that she would marry whichever one of us fulfilled a +certain condition. + +DELIA. How sweet of her! + +DEVENISH. It is my earnest hope, Miss Delia, that the man called Baxter +will be the victor. As far as is consistent with honour, I shall +endeavour to let Mr. Baxter (_banging the table with his hand_) +win. + +DELIA. What was the condition? + +DEVENISH. That I am not at liberty to tell. + +DELIA. Oh! + +DEVENISH. It is, I understand, to be a surprise for you. + +DELIA. How exciting! (_Rising and taking vase of violets which she +places up_ R.) Mr. Devenish, you have been very frank (_coming to +front of settee_ R. _and sitting_). May I be equally so? + +(DEVENISH _crosses to her and bows in acquiescence_.) Why do you +wear your hair so long? + +DEVENISH (_pleased_). You have noticed it? + +DELIA. Well, yes, I have. + +DEVENISH. I wear it so to express my contempt for the conventions of +so-called society. DELIA. I always thought that people wore it very +very short if they despised the conventions of society. + +DEVENISH. I think that the mere fact that my hair annoys Mr. Baxter is +sufficient justification for its length. + +DELIA. But if it annoys me too? + +DEVENISH (_heroically_). It shall go. (_Sits on settee above_ +DELIA.) + +(BELINDA _enters from up_ L. _with a garden basket supposed to +contain cutlets. She crosses the windows at back_.) + +DELIA (_apologetically_). I told you I wasn't a very romantic +person, didn't I? (_Kindly_.) You can always grow it again if you +fall in love with somebody else. + +DEVENISH. That is cruel of you, Delia. I shall never fall in love again. + +(_Enter_ BELINDA _through swing doors B.C_.) + +BELINDA. Why, it's Mr. Devenish! + +(DEVENISH _rises and kisses her hand somewhat sheepishly_.) + +How nice of you to come so early in the morning! How is Mr. Baxter! + +DEVENISH (_annoyed and crossing behind_ BELINDA _to her_ L.). +I do not know, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_coming down to_ DELIA _and sitting in the place vacated +by DEVENISH_). I got most of the things, Delia. (_To_ DEVENISH.) +"The things," Mr. Devenish, is my rather stuffy way of referring to all +the delightful poems that you are going to eat to-night. + +DEVENISH. I am looking forward to it immensely, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA. I do hope I've got all your and Mr. Baxter's favourite dishes. + +DEVENISH (_annoyed and, moving to_ L. _foot of table_ C.). I'm +afraid Mr. Baxter and I are not likely to appreciate the same things. + +BELINDA (_coyly_). Oh, Mr. Devenish! And you were so unanimous a +few days ago. + +DELIA. I think Mr. Devenish. was referring entirely to things to eat. + +BELINDA. I felt quite sad when I was buying the lamb cutlets. To think +that, only a few days before, they had been frisking about with their +mammas, and having poems written about them by Mr. Devenish. There! I'm +giving away the whole dinner. Delia, take him away before I tell him +any more. + +(DELIA _rises, goes to table and picks up water carafe which she +replaces on refectory table up_ L.) + +We must keep some surprises for him. + +DELIA (_to_ DEVENISH _as she crosses back to table_ R. _and +picks up the flowers_). Come along, Mr. Devenish. + +BELINDA (_wickedly_). Are those my flowers, Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH (_advancing to_ BELINDA _and laughing awkwardly, after a +little hesitation, with a bow which might refer to either of them_). +They are for the most beautiful lady in the land. + +BELINDA. Oh, how nice of you! + +(DEVENISH _crosses to door_ R. _and opens it for_ DELIA, +_who follows him and exits_. DEVENISH, _standing above door, +catches BELINDA'S eye and with an awkward laugh follows_ DELIA.) + +BELINDA. I suppose he means Delia--bless them! (_She kisses her hand +towards the door_ R. _She then rises and crosses below the +table_ C., _placing her basket on the_ L. _end of it, to the +fireplace. She rings the bell. Then she moves up on the_ R. _side +of the Chesterfield to the refectory table and takes off her hat. She +takes up a mirror from the table and gives a few pats to her hair, and +as she is doing so BETTY enters from door_ R. _and crosses the room +towards_ C.) + +BELINDA (_pointing to basket on the_ C. _table_). Oh, Betty-- + +(BETTY _moves to back of_ C. _table and takes up the basket. +Crosses above settee and exits through door_ R. BELINDA _is moving +towards the swing doors when she catches sight of_ BAXTER _entering +from the garden up_ R. _She moves quickly to the_ L. _of_ C. _table, +takes up a book and going to Chesterfield_ L., _lies down with her +head to_ R. BAXTER _looks in through the window up_ R., _then crosses +round and enters through the portico and the swing doors_. BELINDA +_pretends to be very busy reading_.) + +BAXTER (_rather nervously, in front of wring doors_). Er--may I +come in, Mrs. Tremayne? + +BELINDA (_dropping her book and turning round with a violent +start_). Oh, Mr. Baxter, how you surprised me! (_She puts her hand +to her heart and sits up and faces him_.) + +BAXTER. I must apologize for intruding upon you at this hour, Mrs. +Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_holding up her hand_). Stop! + +BAXTER (_startled_). What? + +BELINDA. I cannot let you come in like that. + +BAXTER (_looking down at himself_). Like what? + +BELINDA (_dropping her eyes_). You called me Belinda once. + +BAXTER (_coming down to her_). May I explain my position, Mrs. +Tremayne? + +BELINDA. Before you begin--have you been seeing my niece lately? + +BAXTER (_surprised_). No. + +BELINDA. Oh! (_Sweetly_.) Please go on. + +BAXTER. Why, is _she_ lost too? + +BELINDA. Oh no; I just---- Do sit down. + +(BAXTER _moves to the chair_ L. _of_ C. _table and sits_. +BELINDA _rises when he has sat down_.) + +Let me put your hat down somewhere for you. + +BAXTER (_keeping it firmly in his hand_). It will be all right +here, thank you. + +BELINDA (_returning to the Chesterfield and sitting_). I'm dying to +hear what you are going to say. + +BAXTER. First as regards the use of your Christian name. I felt that, as +a man of honour, I could not permit myself to use it until I had +established my right over that of Mr. Devenish. + +BELINDA. All my friends call me Belinda. + +BAXTER. As between myself and Mr. Devenish the case is somewhat +different. Until one of us is successful over the other in the quest +upon which you have sent us, I feel that as far as possible we should +hold aloof from you. + +BELINDA (_pleadingly_). Just say "Belinda" once more, in case +you're a long time. + +BAXTER (_very formally_). Belinda. + +BELINDA. How nicely you say it--Harold. + +BAXTER (_getting out of his seat_). Mrs. Tremayne, I must not +listen to this. + +BELINDA (_meekly_). I won't offend again, Mr. Baxter. Please go on. +(_She motions him to sit--he does so_.) Tell me about the quest; +are you winning? + +BAXTER. I am progressing, Mrs. Tremayne. Indeed, I came here this +morning to acquaint you with the results of my investigations. +(_Clears his throat_.) Yesterday I located a man called Robinson +working upon a farm close by. I ventured to ask him if he had any marks +upon him by which he could be recognized. He adopted a threatening +attitude, and replied that if I wanted any he could give me some. With +the aid of half-a-crown I managed to placate him. Putting my inquiry in +another form, I asked if he had any moles. A regrettable +misunderstanding, which led to a fruitless journey to another part of +the village, was eventually cleared up, and on my return I satisfied +myself that this man was in no way related to your niece. + +BELINDA (_admiringly_). How splendid of you! + +BAXTER. Yes. + +BELINDA. Well, now, we know _he's_ not. (_She holds up one +finger_.) + +BAXTER. Yes. In the afternoon I located another Mr. Robinson following +the profession of a carrier. My first inquiries led to a similar result, +with the exception that in this case Mr. Robinson carried his +threatening attitude so far as to take off his coat and roll up his +sleeves. Perceiving at once that he was not the man, I withdrew. + +BELINDA. How brave you are! + +BAXTER. Yes. + +BELINDA. That makes two. + +BAXTER. Yea. + +BELINDA (_holding up another finger_). It still leaves a good many. +(_Pleadingly_.) Just call me Belinda again. + +BAXTER (_rising and backing to_ R. _a little, nervously_). You +mustn't tempt me, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_penitently_). I won't! + +BAXTER (_going slowly to fireplace and placing his hat down on +urmchair below fireplace_). To resume, then, my narrative. This +morning I have heard of a third Mr. Robinson. Whether there is actually +any particular fortune attached to the number three I cannot say for +certain. It is doubtful whether statistics would be found to support the +popular belief. But one likes to flatter oneself that in one's own case +it may be true; and so-- + +BELINDA. And so the third Mr. Robinson--? + +BAXTER. Something for which I cannot altogether account inspires me with +hope. He is, I have discovered, staying at Mariton. This afternoon I go +to look for him. + +BELINDA (_to herself_). Mariton! How funny! I wonder if it's the +same one. + +BAXTER. What one? + +BELINDA. Oh, just one of the ones. (_Gratefully_.) Mr. Baxter, you +are doing all this for _me_. + +BAXTER. Pray do not mention it. I don't know if it's Devonshire +(_going to and sitting_ L. _of_ BELINDA), or the time of the +year, or the sort of atmosphere you create, Mrs. Tremayne, but I feel an +entirely different man. There is something in the air which--yes, I +shall certainly go over to Mariton this afternoon. + +BELINDA (_gravely_). I have had the same feeling sometimes, Mr. +Baxter. I am not always the staid respectable matron which I appear to +you to be. Sometimes I--(_She looks absently at the watch on her +wrist_.) Good gracious! + +BAXTER (_alarmed_). What is it! + +BELINDA (_looking anxiously from the door to him_). Mr. Baxter, I'm +going to throw myself on your mercy. + +BAXTER. My dear Mrs. Tremayne-- + +BELINDA (_looking at her watch again, rising and moving up_ L.C., +_looking at door_). A strange man will be here directly. He must not +find you with me. + +BAXTER (_rising, jealously_). A man? + +BELINDA (_excitedly_). Yes, yes, a man! He is pursuing me with his +attentions. If he found you here, there would be a terrible scene. + +BAXTER. I will defend you from him. + +BELINDA (_crossing down to_ R. _of Chesterfield_). No, no. He +is a big man. He will--he will overpower you. (_Moving_ L. _a +little and looking out of windows_.) + +BAXTER. But you----! + +BELINDA. I can defend myself. I will send him away. But he must not find +you here. You must hide before he overpowers you. + +BAXTER (_with dignity, crossing below table to_ R.). I will +withdraw if you wish it. BELINDA (_following to_ R. _at back of +table_ C.). No, not withdraw, hide. He might see you withdrawing. +(_Leading the way to the cupboard door_.) Quick, in here. + +BAXTER (_embarrassed at the thought that this sort of thing really +only happens in a bedroom farce and moving towards her_). I don't +think I quite---- + +BELINDA (_reassuring him_). It's perfectly respectable; it's where +we keep the umbrellas. (_She takes him by the hand_.) + +BAXTER (_resisting and looking nervously into the cupboard_). I'm +not at all sure that I---- + +BELINDA (_earnestly_). Oh, but don't you see what _trust_ I'm +putting in you? (_To herself_.) Some people are so nervous about +their umbrellas. + +BAXTER. Well, of course, if you--but I don't see why I shouldn't just +slip out of the door before he comes. + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Of course, if you grudge me every little +pleasure----(_Crossing in front of_ BAXTER _towards swing doors +and seeing_ TREMAYNE _coming_.) Quick! Here he is. + +(_She bundles him through the cupboard door and closes it and with a +sign of happiness crosses down to_ C. _table. She sees _BAXTER'S +_bowler hat on the arm-chair below the fireplace. She fetches and +carries it over to the cupboard door, knocks and hands it to him, +saying, _"Your hat!") + +BAXTER (_expostulating and nearly knocking her over as he comes +out_). Well, really I---- + +BELINDA (_bundling him into the cupboard and closing the door_). +Hush! + +(BELINDA _straightens her hair, takes up her book from_ L. +_of_ C. _table and sits, stroking the head of the toy dog and +pretending to read_. TREMAYNE _enters from garden up_ R. _and +through the swing doors up_ R.C. BELINDA _gives an assumed cry of +surprise_.) + +TREMAYNE (_at the swing doors_). It's no good your pretending to be +surprised, because you said I could come. (_Coming down to the back of +the table_ C. _and putting down his hat_.) + +BELINDA (_rising, shaking hands and welcoming him_). But I can +still be surprised that you wanted to come. + +TREMAYNE Oh no, you aren't. + +BELINDA (_markng it off on her fingers_). Just a little bit--that +much. + +TREMAYNE. It would be much more surprising if I hadn't come. + +BELINDA (_crossing to the Chesterfield, picking up her book and +handing it to_ TREMAYNE, _who puts it on the table_). It is a +pretty garden, isn't it? (_She sits on_ R. _end of Chesterfield_.) + +TREMAYNE (_coming to her_). You forget that I saw the garden +yesterday. + +BELINDA. Oh, but the things have grown so much since then. Let me see, +this is the third day you've been and we only met three days ago. (_He +moves behind the Chesterfield to the left end of it_.) And then +you're coming to dinner again to-night. + +TREMAYNE (_eagerly and leaning over the Chesterfield_). Am I? + +BELINDA. Yes. Haven't you been asked? + +TREMAYNE (_going round the left end of the Chesterfield_). No, not +a word. + +BELINDA. Yes, that's quite right; I remember now, I only thought of it +this morning, so I couldn't ask you before, could I? + +TREMAYNE (_earnestly_). What made you think of it then? + +BELINDA (_romantically_). It was at the butcher's. + +TREMAYNE. Eh? + +BELINDA. There was one little lamb cutlet left over and sitting out all +by itself, and there was nobody to love it. And I said to myself, +suddenly, "I know, that will do for Mr. Robinson." (_Protaically_.) +I do hope you like lamb? + +TREMAYNE (_sitting on her left side_). I adore it. + +BELINDA. Oh, I'm so glad I When I saw it sitting there I thought you'd +love it. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more about the rest of the +dinner, because I wouldn't tell Mr. Devenish, and I want to be fair. + +TREMAYNE (_jealously_). Who's Mr. Devenish? + +BELINDA. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here. + +TREMAYNE Is he in love with you too? + +BELINDA. Too? Oh, you mean Mr. Baxter? + +TREMAYNE (_rising and moving to fireplace_). Confound it, that's +three! + +BELINDA (_innocently_). Three? (_She looks up at him and down +again_.) + +TREMAYNE. Who is Mr. Baxter? + +BELINDA. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here. + +TREMAYNE (_turning away and looking into fireplace_). Who is Mr. +Baxter? + +(BAXTER _appears at cupboard doorway_. BELINDA _hears him and +gives a startled look round. She signs to him to go back. BAXTER +retreats immediately and closes door_.) + +BELINDA. Oh, he's a sort of statistician. Isn't that a horrid word to +say? So stishany. + +TREMAYNE. What does he make statistics about? + +BELINDA. Oh (_giving a sly look round at cupboard door_), umbrellas +and things. Don't let's talk about him. + +TREMAYNE. All right, then; (_going up to her jealously_) who is Mr. +Devenish? + +BELINDA. Oh, he's a poet. (_She throws up her eyes and sighs +deeply_.) Ah me! + +TREMAYNE. What does he write poetry about? + +(BELINDA _looks at him, and down again, and then at him again, and +then down, then raises and drops her arms, and gives a little sigh--all +of which means, "Can't you guess?"_) + +What does he write poetry about? + +BELINDA (_obediently_). He wrote "The Lute of Love and other Poems, +by Claude Devenish." + +(TREMAYNE _is annoyed and turns away to the fireplace_.) + +The Lute of Love--(_To herself_.) I haven't been saying that +lately. (_With great expression_.) The Lute of Love--the Lute. +(_She pats her mouth back_.) + +TREMAYNE. And who is Mr. Devenish--! + +BELINDA (_putting her hand on his sleeve_). You'll let me know when +it's my turn, won't you? + +TREMAYNE. Your turn? + +BELINDA. Yes, to ask questions. I love this game--it's just like clumps. +(_She crosses her hands on her lap and waits for the next +question_.) + +TREMAYNE. I beg your pardon. I--er--of course have no right to cross- +examine you like this. + +BELINDA. Oh, do go on, I love it. (_With childish excitement_.) +I've got my question ready. + +TREMAYNE (_smiling and going and sitting beside her again_). I +think perhaps it _is_ your turn. + +BELINDA (_eagerly_). Is it really? (_He nods_.) Well then-- +(_in a loud voice_)--who is Mr. Robinson? + +TREMAYNE (_alarmed_). What? + +BELINDA. I think it's a fair question. I met you three days ago and you +told me you were staying at Mariton. Mariton. You can say it all right +now, can't you? + +TREMAYNE. I think so. + +BELINDA (_coaxingly_). Just say it. + +TREMAYNE. Mariton. + +BELINDA (_clapping her hands_). Lovely! I don't think any of the +villagers do it as well as that. + +TREMAYNE. Well? + +BELINDA (_looking very hard at TREMAYNE--he wonders whether she has +discovered his identity_). Well, that was three days ago. You came +the next day to see the garden, and you came the day after to see the +garden, and you've come this morning--to see the garden; and you're +coming to dinner to-night, and it's so lovely, we shall simply have to +go into the garden afterwards. And all I know about you is that you +haven't any relations called Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. What do I know about Mrs. Tremayne but that she has a relation +called Robinson? + +BELINDA. And two dear friends called Devenish and Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_rising--annoyed_). I was forgetting them. (_Crosses to +below_ L. _end of_ C. _table_.) + +BELINDA (_to herself, with a sly look round at the cupboard_), I +mustn't forget Mr. Baxter. + +TREMAYNE. But what does it matter? What would it matter if I knew +nothing about you? (_Moving up to_ R. _end of Chesterfield and +leaning over it_.) I know everything about you--everything that +matters. + +BELINDA (_leaning back and closing her eyes contentedly_). Tell me +some of them. TREMAYNE (_bending over her earnestly_). Belinda-- + +BELINDA (_still with her eyes shut_). He's going to propose to me. +I can feel it coming. + +TREMAYNE (_starting back_). Confound it! how many men _have_ +proposed to you? + +BELINDA (_surprised_). Since when? + +TREMAYNE. Since your first husband proposed to you. + +BELINDA. Oh, I thought you meant this year. (_Sitting up_.) Well +now, let me see. (_Slowly and thoughtfully_.) One. (_She pushes +up her first finger_.) Two. (_She pushes up the second_.) Three. +(_She pushes up the third finger, holds it there for a moment and then +pushes it gently down again_.) No, I don't think that one ought to +count really. (_She pushes up two more fingers and the thumb_.) Three, +four, five--do you want the names or just the total? + +TREMAYNE (_moving up_ L. _and then over_ R.). This is horrible. + +BELINDA (_innocently_). But anybody can propose. Now if you'd asked +how many I'd accepted-- + +(_He turns sharply to her--annoyed_.) + +Let me see, where was I up to? + +(_He moves down_ R.) + +I shan't count yours, because I haven't really had it yet. + +(BETTY _enters down_ R. _and stands behind settee_.) + +Six, seven--Yes, Betty, what is it? + +BETTY. If you please, ma'am, cook would like to speak to you for a +minute. + +(TREMAYNE _goes up_ R.C.) + +BELINDA (_getting up_). Yes, I'll come. + +(BETTY _goes out, leaving the door open_. BELINDA _crosses Before +the table_.) + +(_To_ TREMAYNE.) You'll forgive me, won't you? You'll find some +cigarettes there. (_Points to table up_ R. TREMAYNE _moves by the +back of the settee and holds the door for_ BELINDA. _She turns to him +in the doorway_.) It's probably about the lamb cutlets; I expect your +little one refuses to be cooked. + +(_She goes out after_ BETTY.) + +(_Left alone_ TREMAYNE _stalks moodily about the room, crossing +it and kicking things which come in his way. Violently, he kicks a +hassock which is above the table_ R. _to under the table_ C., +_then he takes up his hat and moves towards the swing doors and half +opens them. He pauses and considers--then he comes down to the centre +table, throws down his hat, moves round the left end of the table, finds +the dog in the way and then sits on the table with his hands in his +pockets, facing the audience. As he has been moving about the room, he +has muttered the names of_ BAXTER _and_ DEVENISH.) + +DEVENISH (_entering from the door_ R., _which he closes and goes +to foot of the settee R.--surprised_). Hullo! + +(_A pause_.) + +TREMAYNE (_jealously, and rising_). Are you Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH. Yes. + +TREMAYNE. Devenish the poet? + +DEVENISH (_coming up and shaking him warmly by the hand_). My dear +fellow, you know my work? + +TREMAYNE (_grimly_). My dear Mr. Devenish, your name is most +familiar to me. + +DEVENISH. I congratulate you. I thought your great-grand-children would +be the first to hear of me. + +TREMAYNE (_moving to_ L.). My name's Robinson, by the way. + +DEVENISH (_connecting him with_ DELIA). Then let me return the +compliment, Robinson. Your name is familiar to me. + +TREMAYNE (_hastily, and going towards_ DEVENISH). I don't think I'm +related to any Robinsons you know. + +DEVENISH (_dubiously_). Well, no, I suppose not. When I was very +much younger I began a collection of Robinsons. Actually it was only +three days ago, but it seems much longer. (_Thinking of_ DELIA.) +Many things have happened since then. + +TREMAYNE (_uninterested, moving_ L.) Really! + +DEVENISH. There is a man called Baxter--(TREMAYNE _displays his +jealousy of_ BAXTER.) who is still collecting, I believe. For myself, +I am only interested in one of the great family--Delia. + +TREMAYNE (_eagerly, and going quickly to him and placing his hand on +DEVENISH'S left shoulder_). You are interested in _her_? + +DEVENISH. Devotedly. In fact, I am at this moment waiting for her to put +on her hat. + +TREMAYNE (_warmly, banging him on the shoulder with both hands_). +My dear Devenish, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. (_He +seizes his hand and grips it heartily_.) How are you? +(DEVENISH _backs to the settee in pain_.) + +DEVENISH (_sitting on settee, feeling his fingers_). Fairly well, +thanks. + +TREMAYNE (_sitting above him and banging him on the back_). That's +right. + +DEVENISH (_still nursing his hand_). You are a very lucky fellow, +Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. In what way? + +DEVENISH. People you meet must be so very reluctant to say good-bye to +you. Have you ever tried strangling lions or anything like that? + +TREMAYNE (_with a laugh_). Well, as a matter of fact, I have. + +DEVENISH. I suppose you won all right? + +TREMAYNE. In the end, with the help of my beater. + +DEVENISH. Personally I should have backed you alone against any two +ordinary lions. + +TREMAYNE. One was quite enough. As it was, he gave me something to +remember him by. (_Putting up his left sleeve, he displays a deep +scar_.) + +DEVENISH (_looking at it casually_). By Jove, that's a nasty one! +(_He suddenly catches sight of the mole and stares at it fascinated, +then stares up at_ TREMAYNE.) Good heavens! + +TREMAYNE. What's the matter? + +DEVENISH (_clasping his head_). Wait. (_Rising and moving up to +L. _of_ TREMAYNE.) Let me think. (_After a pause_.) Have you +ever met a man called Baxter? + +TREMAYNE. No. + +DEVENISH. Would you like to? + +TREMAYNE (_grimly_). Very much indeed. + +DEVENISH. He's the man I told you about who's interested in Robinsons. +He'll be delighted to meet you. (_With a nervous laugh_.) Funny +thing, he's rather an authority on lions. You must show him that scar +of yours; it will intrigue him immensely. (_Earnestly_.) +_Don't_ shake hands with him too heartily just at first; it might +put him off the whole thing. + +TREMAYNE. This Mr. Baxter seems to be a curious man. + +DIVENISH (_absently_). Yes, he is rather odd. (_Looking at his +watch_.) I wonder if I----(_To_ TREMAYNE.) I suppose you won't +be-- (_He stops suddenly. A slight tapping noise comes from the room +where they keep umbrellas_.) + +TREMAYNE. What's that! + +(_The tapping noise is repeated, a little more loudly this time. +DEVENISH moves to end of table_.) + +DEVENISH. Come in. + +(_The door opens and_ BAXTER _comes in nervously, holding his +bowler hat in his hand. He moves towards the swing doors_.) + +BAXTER (_apologetically_). Oh, I just--(TREMAYNE _stands up_) +--I just--(_He goes back again_.) + +DEVENISH (_springing across the room_). Baxter! + +(_The door opens nervously again and BAXTER'S head appears round it_.) + +Come in, Baxter, old man; you're just the very person I wanted. + +(BAXTER _comes in carefully_. DEVENISH _closes the door_.) + +Good man. (_To_ TREMAYNE, _taking_ BAXTER _down_ R., +_and placing his arm round his shoulders_.) This is Mr. Baxter that +I was telling you about. + +(BAXTER _removes_ DEVENISH'S _arm from his shoulders_.) + +TREMAYNE (_moving up to_ BAXTER _and much relieved at the +appearance of his rival_). Oh, is this Mr. Baxter? (_Holding out +his hand with great friendliness_.) How are you, Mr. Baxter? + +DEVENISH (_warningly_). Steady! + +(TREMAYNE _shakes_ BAXTER _quite gently by the hand_.) + +Baxter, this is Mr. Robinson. (_Casually_.) R-o-b-i-n-s-o-n. (_He +looks sideways at_ BAXTER _to see how he takes it_. BAXTER _is +noticeably impressed_.) + +BAXTER. Really? I am very glad to meet you, sir. + +TREMAYNE. Very good of you to say so. + +DEVENISH (_to_ BAXTER, _taking his arm_. BAXTER _is annoyed +and gets free_). Robinson is a great big-game hunter. + +BAXTER (_moving down to_ TREMAYNE). Indeed? I have never done +anything in that way myself, but I'm sure it must be an absorbing +pursuit. + +TREMAYNE. Oh, well, it's something to do. + +DEVENISH (_to_ BAXTER). You must get him to tell you about a +wrestle he had with a lion once. Extraordinary story! (_Looking at his +watch suddenly_.) Jove! I must be off. See you again, Baxter. (_He +bangs_ BAXTER _on the shoulder and moves down to_ TREMAYNE.) +Good-bye, Robinson. No, don't shake hands. I'm in a hurry. (_He looks +at his watch again and goes out hurriedly by the door on the_ R.) + +(TREMAYNE _sits on settee_ R. _and_ BAXTER _on chair_ R. +_of_ C. _table. He puts his hat on the table_.) + +TREMAYNE. Unusual man, your friend Devenish. I suppose it comes of being +a poet. + +BAXTER. I have no great liking for Mr. Devenish-- + +TREMAYNE. Oh, he's all right. + +BAXTER. But I am sure that if he is impressed by anything outside +himself or his own works, it must be something rather remarkable. Pray +tell me of your adventure with the lion. + +TREMAYNE (_laughing_). Really, you mustn't think that I go about +telling everybody my adventures. It just happened to come up. I'm afraid +I shook his hand rather more warmly than I meant, and he asked me if I'd +ever tried strangling lions. That was all. + +BAXTER. And had you? + +TREMAYNE. Well, it just happened that I had. + +BAXTER. Indeed! You came off scatheless, I trust? + +TREMAYNE (_carelessly indicating his arm_). Well, he got me one +across there. + +BAXTER (_rising and coming to above_ TREMAYNE, _obviously +excited_). Really, really. (_Points to his arm_.) One across +there. Not bad, I hope? + +TREMAYNE (_laughing_). Well, it doesn't show unless I do that. +(_He pulls up his sleeve carelessly and_ BAXTER _bends eagerly +over his arm and sees the mole and very slowly looks up at_ TREMAYNE, +_then down at the arm again, then up at_ TREMAYNE.) + +BAXTER. Good heavens! I've found it! (_He runs over to the table and +picks up his hat_.) + +TREMAYNE. Found what? (_He pulls down his sleeve_.) + +BAXTER (_going up_ L.). I must see Mrs. Tremayne. Where's Mrs. +Tremayne? + +TREMAYNE. She went out just now. What's the matter? + +BAXTER. Out! I must find her. This is a matter of life and death. (_He +hurries through the swing doors_.) Mrs. Tremayne! Mrs. Tremayne! +(_He exits_ R. _through the garden_.) + +(TREMAYNE _rises and moves to the swing doors, stares after him in +amazement. Then he pulls up his sleeve, looks at his scar again and +shakes his head. While he is still puzzling over it_, BELINDA +_comes back_ R.) + +BELINDA (_crossing below settee_). Such a to-do in the kitchen! The +cook's given notice--at least she will directly--(_up to_ +TREMAYNE)--and your lamb cutlet slipped back to the shop when nobody was +looking + +(TREMAYNE _looks off at swing doors_) + +and I've got to go into the village again, (_going to the refectory +table and getting her hat_) and ok dear, oh dear, I have such a lot +of things to do! (_Looking across at MR. BAXTER'S door_.) Oh yes, +that's another one. (_Coming back to table_ C. _and putting down +her hat on R. side_.) + +TREMAYNE. Belinda-- (_Moving up to her_.) + +BELINDA. No, not even Belinda. Wait till this evening. + +TREMAYNE. I have a thousand things to say to you; I shall say them this +evening. + +BELINDA (_giving him her hand_). Begin about eight o'clock. Good-bye +till then. + +(_He takes her hand, looks at her for a moment, then suddenly bends +and kisses it, takes up his hat and hurries through the swing doors and +off through the garden to_ L.) + +(BELINDA _stands looking from her hand to him, gives a little +wondering exclamation and then presses the back of her hand against her +cheek, and goes to the swing doors. She turns back, and remembers MR. +BAXTER _again. With a smile she goes to the door and taps gently_.) + +BELINDA. Mr. Baxter, Mr. Baxter, you may come in now; he has withdrawn. +(_Moves down a little and then back to_ L. _of the door again_.) +Mr. Baxter, I have unhanded him. (_She opens the door and going in, +finds the room empty_.) Oh! + +(BAXTER _comes quickly through the swing doors_.) + +BAXTER (_meeting_ BELINDA _coming out of the cupboard_). Ah, +(_they both start_) there you are! (_Crossing down to_ R. _end of_ +C. _table, he puts down his hat_.) + +BELINDA (_turning with a start_). Oh, how you frightened me, Mr. +Baxter! I couldn't think what had happened to you. (_She closes the +door_.) I thought perhaps you'd been eaten up by one of the +umbrellas. + +BAXTER. Mrs. Tremayne, I have some wonderful news for you. I have found +Miss Robinson's father. + +BELINDA (_on his_ L., _hardly understanding_). Miss Bobinson's +father? + +BAXTER. Yes. _Mr_. Robinson. + +BELINDA. Oh, you mean--(_Points to direction when TREMAYNE has +gone_.) Oh yes, he told me his name was Robinson--Oh, but he's no +relation. + +BAXTER. Wait! I saw his arm. By a subterfuge I managed to see his arm. + +BELINDA (_her eyes opening more and more widely as she begins to +realize_). You saw-- + +BAXTER. I saw the mole. + +BELINDA (_coming down to him faintly as she holds out her own +arm_). Show me. + +BAXTER (_very decorously indicating_). There! + +(BELINDA _holds the place with her other hand, and stitt looking +at_ MR. BAXTER, _slowly begins to laugh--half-laughter, half-tears, +wonderingly, happily, contentedly_.) + +BELINDA (_moving to_ R. _of table and sitting_). And I didn't +know! + +BAXTER (_moving to back of table_). Mrs. Tremayne, I am delighted +to have done this service for your niece---- + +BELINDA (_to herself_). Of course, _he_ knew all the time. + +BAXTER (_to the world_). Still more am I delighted to have gained +the victory over Mr. Devenish in this enterprise. + +BELINDA. Eighteen years--but I _ought_ to have known. + +BAXTER (_at large_). I shall not be accused of exaggerating when I +say that the odds against such an enterprise were enormous. + +BELINDA. Eighteen years---- And now I've eight whole _hours_ to +wait! + +BAXTER (_triumphantly_). It will be announced to-night. "Mr. +Devenish," I shall say, "young fellow----" (_He arranges his speech in +his mind_.) + +BELINDA (_nodding to herself mischievously_). So I was right, after +all! (_Slowly and triumphantly_.) He _does_ look better without +a beard! + +BAXTER (_with his hand on the back of the chair on the_ L. _side +of the table_). "Mr. Devenish, young fellow, when you matched yourself +against a man of my repute, when you matched yourself against a man-- +matched yourself against a man of my repute (_crossing towards +fireplace_) + +(BELINDA _rises stealthily, takes up her hat and exits through the +swing doors and through the garden up_ R.) + +when you matched yourself against a man who has read papers (_moving +towards centre table_) at Soirees of the Royal Statistical Society----" +(_Looking round the room, he discovers that he is alone. He picks up +his hat from the table and jams it down on his head_.) Unusual! + +(_He moves up towards the swing doors_.) + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III + + + +_It is after dinner in BELINDA'S hall. The log fire, chandelier and +wall brackets are all alight_. BELINDA _is lying on the Chesterfield +with a coffee-cup in her hand_. DELIA, _in the chair down_ L. _below +the fireplace, has picked up "The Lute of Love" from a table and is +reading it impatiently. She also has a coffee-cup in her hand_. + +DELIA (_throwing the book away_). What rubbish he writes! + +BELINDA (_coming back from her thoughts_). Who, dear? + +DELIA. Claude + +(BELINDA _gives her a quick look of surprise_.) + +--Mr. Devenish. (_She rises and stands by the fireplace with her cup +in her hand_.) Of course, he's very young. + +BELINDA. So was Keats, darling. + +DELIA. I don't think Claude has had Keats' advantages. Keats started +life as an apothecary. + +BELINDA. So much nicer than a chemist. + +DELIA. Now, Claude started with nothing to do. + +BELINDA (_mildly_). Do you always call him Claude, darling? I hope +you aren't going to grow into a flirt like that horrid Mrs. Tremayne. + +DELIA. Silly mother! (_She moves to_ BELINDA, _takes her cup, +then crosses to the table and places both the cups on the table-- +seriously_.) I don't think he'll ever be any good till he really gets +work. Did you notice his hair this evening? + +BELINDA (_dreamily_). Whose, dear? + +DELIA (_going to the back of the Chesterfield and to the_ L. _of_ +BELINDA). Mummy, look me in the eye and tell me you are not being bad. + +BELINDA (_having playfully turned her head away and hidden her face +with her handkerchief, says innocently_). Bad, darling? + +DELIA (_moving down to the front of the fireplace_). You've made +Mr. Robinson fall in love with you. + +BELINDA (_happily_). Have I? + +DELIA. Yes; it's serious this time. He's not like the other two. + +BELINDA. However did you know that? + +DELIA. Oh, I know. + +BELINDA. Darling, I believe you've grown up. It's quite time I settled +down. + +DELIA. With Mr. Robinson? + +(BELINDA _sits up and looks thoughtfully at_ DELIA _for a little +time_.) + +BELINDA (_mysteriously_). Delia, are you prepared for a great +secret to be revealed to you? + +DELIA (_childishly and jumping on to the_ L. _arm of the +Chesterfield facing_ BELINDA). Oh, I love secrets. + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). Darling, you mustn't take it like that. +This is a great, deep, dark secret; you'll probably need your sal +volatile. + +DELIA (_excitedly_). Go on! + +BELINDA. Well---- (_Looking round the room_.) Shall we have the +lights down a little? + +DELIA. Go on, mummy. + +BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is--(_impressively_)--is not quite the +Robinson he appears to be. + +DELIA. Yes? + +BELINDA. In fact, child, he is---- Darling, hadn't you better come and +hold your mother's hand? + +DELIA (_struggling with some emotion and placing her hand on_ +BELINDA'S _arm, who playfully smacks it_). Go on. + +BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is a--sort of relation of yours; in fact-- +(_playing with her rings and looking down coyly_)--he is your-- +father. (_She looks up at_ DELIA _to see how the news is being +received_.) (DELIA _gives a happy laugh_.) + +Dear one, this is not a matter for mirth. + +DELIA. Darling, it is lovely, isn't it? (_Sliding down to the seat of +the Chesterfield next to_ BELINDA, _who moves along to make room +for her_.) I am laughing because I am so happy. + +BELINDA. Aren't you surprised? + +DELIA. No. You see, Claude told me this morning. (BELINDA _displays +annoyance_.) He found out just before Mr. Baxter. + +BELINDA. Well! Every one seems to have known except me. + +DELIA. Didn't you see how friendly father and I got at dinner? I thought +I'd better start breaking the ice--because I suppose he'll be kissing me +directly. + +BELINDA. Say you like him. + +DELIA. I think he's going to be awfully nice. (_She kisses_ BELINDA +_and rises_.) Does he _know_ you know? + +BELINDA. Not yet. + +DELIA. Oh! (_She moves to the fireplace and warms her hands_.) + +BELINDA. Just at present I've rather got Mr. Baxter on my mind. I +suppose, darling, you wouldn't like him as well as Mr. Devenish! +(_Pathetically_.) You see, they're so used to going about together. + +DELIA. Claude is quite enough. + +BELINDA. I think I must see Mr. Baxter and get it over. Do you mind if I +have Mr. Devenish too? I feel more at home with both of them. I'll give +you him back. Oh dear, I feel so happy to-night! (_She jumps up and +goes to_ DELIA.) And is my little girl going to be happy too? That's +what mothers always say on the stage. I think it's so sweet. + +(_They move together to below table_.) + +DELIA (_smiling at her_). Yes, I think so, mummy. Of course, I'm +not romantic like you. I expect I'm more like father, really. + +BELINDA (_dreamily_). Jack can be romantic now. He was telling me +this morning all about the people he has proposed to. I mean, I was +telling him. Anyhow, he wasn't a bit like a father. Of course, he +doesn't know he is a father yet. Darling, I think you might take him +into the garden; only don't let him know who he is. You see, he ought to +propose to me first, oughtn't he? + +(_The men come in from_ R. TREMAYNE _goes to the foot of the +settee R., DEVENISH to the back of the table up_ R., _while_ +BAXTER _stands at the back of the settee_. BELINDA _moves to the +front of the settee and DELIA sits on the table_.) + +Here you all are! I do hope you haven't been throwing away your cigars, +because smoking is allowed all over the house. + +TREMAYNE (_as he comes to the foot of the settee_). Oh, we've +finished, thank you. + +BELINDA (_going up to the swing doors and opening them_). Isn't it +a wonderful night?--and so warm for April. Delia, you must show Mr. +Robinson the garden by moonlight--it's the only light he hasn't seen it +by. + +DEVENISH (_quickly coming to_ R. _back of table_ C.). I don't +think I've ever seen it by moonlight, Miss Delia. + +BELINDA (_coming down a little_). I thought poets were always +seeing things by moonlight. + +BAXTER (_moving toward_ BELINDA). I was hoping, Mrs. Tremayne, +that--er--perhaps----- + +DELIA (_moving quickly to above_ TREMAYNE _and taking his_ L. +_hand, and pulling him up stage to swing doors_). Come along, Mr. +Robinson. + +(TREMAYNE _looks at_ BELINDA, _who gives him a nod_. BELINDA +_then moves down_ R.) + +TREMAYNE (L. _of_ DELIA). It's very kind of you, Miss Robinson. I +suppose there is no chance of a nightingale? + +BELINDA. There ought to be. I ordered one specially for Mr. Devenish. + +(DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE _go out together_. BELINDA, _with a +sigh, moves over to the Chesterfield and settles herself comfortably +into it_. DEVENISH, _annoyed by_ TREMAYNE'S _attentions to_ DELIA, +_crosses up angrily and looks off through the window up_ L. _above +fireplace, then comes down_ L. _of the Chesterfield to the front +of the fireplace_. BAXTER _moves up to the swing doors angrily watching_ +DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE, _then moves to the window_ R. _and looks off_. +BETTY _then enters with a salver from_ R. _She moves by the back of +the settee to the back of the table_ C., _picks up the coffee-cups and +goes out_ R. BAXTER _then moves over to the window facing the audience, +up_ L. _He looks off, then comes down to the_ R. _of_ BELINDA.) + +Now we're together again. Well, Mr. Devenish? + +DEVENISH. Er--I-- + +BELINDA. No; I think I'll let Mr. Baxter speak first. I know he's +longing to. + +BAXTER (_leaning on the back of the chair_ L. _of table--he +clears his throat_). H'r'm! Mrs. Tremayne, I beg formally to claim +your hand. + +BELINDA (_sweetly_). On what grounds, Mr. Baxter? + +DEVENISH (_spiritedly_). Yes, sir, on what grounds? + +BAXTER (_coming to_ R. _of Chesterfield, close to_ BELINDA). +On the grounds that, as I told you this morning, I had succeeded in the +quest. + +DEVENISH (_appearing to be greatly surprised_). Succeeded? + +BAXTER. Yes, Mr. Devenish, young fellow, you have lost. (_He moves a +few paces_ R. _to below the chair_ L. _of the table_.) I have +discovered the missing Mr. Robinson. + +DEVENISH (_wiping hit brow and coming to_ BAXTER). Who--where-- + +BAXTER (_dramatically_). Miss Robinson has at this moment gone out +with her father. + +DEVENISH (_placing his hands heavily on_ BAXTER'S _shoulders, who +staggers_). Good heavens! It was he! + +(_BAXTER pats_ DEVENISH _sympathetically and moves to the back of +the Chesterfield and is about to speak to_ BELINDA. _She, however, +silences him and he drops down to the front of the fireplace_.) + +BELINDA (_sympathetically_). Poor Mr. Devenish! + +DEVENISH (_pointing tragically to the table_). And to think that I +actually sat on that table--no, that seat (_he points to the +settee_ R., _then he moves up stage between it and the table_)-- +that I sat there with him this morning, and never guessed! Why, ten +minutes ago I was asking him for the nuts! + +BAXTER. Aha, Devenish, you're not so clever as you thought you were. + +DEVENISH (_coming quickly to the back of the chair_ L. _of the +table_). Why, I must have given you the clue myself! He told me he +had a scar on his arm, and I never thought any more of it. And then I +went away innocently and left you two talking about it. + +BELINDA (_alarmed_). A scar on his arm? + +DEVENISH. Where a lion mauled him. + +(BELINDA _gives a little cry and shudder_.) + +BAXTER. It's quite healed up now, Mrs. Tremayne. + +BELINDA (_looking at him admiringly_). A lion! What you two have +adventured for my sake! + +BAXTER. I suppose you will admit, Devenish, that I may fairly claim to +have won? + +(_Looking the picture of despair,_ DEVENISH _drops down_ L. +_of the chair, droops his head, raises his arms and lets them fall +hopelessly to his sides_.) + +BELINDA. Mr. Devenish, I have never admired you so much as I do at this +moment. (_She extends her_ R. _hand to_ DEVENISH, _who gropes +for it with his_ L. _hand and eventually manages to seize it_.) + +BAXTER (_noticing he is holding her hand, moving to them and looking +at them quizzically--indignantly to_ DEVENISH). I say, you know, +that's not fair. It's all very well to take your defeat like a man, but +you mustn't overdo it. (_They release their hands_.) Mrs. Tremayne, +I claim the reward which I have earned. + +BELINDA (_after a pause and rising_). Mr. Baxter--Mr. Devenish, I +have something to tell you. + +(DEVENISH _moves to her_ R.) + +(BELINDA _kneels upon the Chesterfield facing them. Penitently_.) I +have not been quite frank with you. I think you both ought to know that-- +I--I made a mistake. Delia is not my niece; she is my daughter. (_She +buries her face in her hands_.) + +DEVENISH. Your daughter! I say, how ripping! + +(BELINDA _gives him an understanding look_.) + +BAXTER. Your daughter! + +BELINDA. Yes. + +BAXTER. But--but you aren't old enough to have a daughter of that age. + +BELINDA (_apologetically_). Well, there she is. + +BAXTER. But--but she's grown up. + +BELINDA. Quite. + +BAXTER. Then in that case you must be----(_He hesitates, evidently +working it out_.) + +BELINDA (_hastily_). I'm afraid so, Mr. Baxter. + +BAXTER. But this makes a great difference. I had no idea. Why, when I'm +fifty you would be---- + +BELINDA (_sighing_). Yes, I suppose I should. + +BAXTER. And when I'm sixty---- + +BELINDA (_pleadingly to_ DEVENISH). Can't you stop him? + +DEVENISH (_with a threatening gesture_). Look here, Baxter, another +word from you and you'll never _get_ to sixty. + +BAXTER. And then there's Miss--er--Delia. In the event of our marrying, +Mrs. Tremayne, she, I take it, would be my step-daughter. + +BELINDA. I don't think she would trouble us much, Mr. Baxter. (_With a +sly look at_ DEVENISH.) I have an idea that she will be getting +married before long. (_She again glances at_ DEVENISH, _who +returns her look gratefully_.) + +BAXTER (_moving up_ L. _into the inner room_). None the less, +the fact would be disturbing. + +(DEVENISH _with a wink at_ BELINDA _crosses in front of her and +warms his hands at the fire_. BELINDA _watches_ BAXTER _over +the back of the Chesterfield_.) + +I have never yet considered myself seriously as a step-father. +(_Moving round the refectory table_.) I don't think I am going too +far if I say that to some extent I have been deceived in this matter. +(_He comes down to behind the_ C. _table_.) + +BELINDA (_reproachfully_). And so have I. I thought you loved me. + +DEVENISH (_sympathetically_). Yes, yes. + +BELINDA (_turning to him suddenly_). And Mr. Devenish too. + +BAXTER (_moving to_ BELINDA). Er---- + +DEVENISH. Er---- + +(_They stand before her guiltily and have nothing to say_.) + +BELINDA (_with a shrug_). Well, I shall have to marry somebody +else, that's all. + +BAXTER (_moving to below table_). Who? Who? + +BELINDA. I suppose Mr. Robinson. After all, if I am Delia's mother, and +Mr. Baxter says that Mr. Robinson's her father, it's about time we +_were_ married. + +DEVENISH (_eagerly_). Mrs. Tremayne, what fools we are! He +_is_ your husband all the time! + +BELINDA. Yes. + +BAXTER (_moving up to the_ R. _of_ BELINDA). You've had a +husband all the time? + +BELINDA (_apologetically_). I lost him; it wasn't my fault. + +BAXTER. Really, this is very confusing. I don't know where I am. I +gather--I am to gather, it seems, that you are no longer eligible as a +possible wife? + +BELINDA. I am afraid not, Mr. Baxter. + +BAXTER. But this is very confusing--(_moving towards the swing +doors_)--this is very disturbing to a man of my age. For weeks past I +have been regarding myself as a--a possible benedict. I have--ah--taken +steps. (_Back to the_ L. _end of the_ C. _table_.) Only this morning, +in writing to my housekeeper, I warned her that she might hear at +any moment a most startling announcement. + +DEVENISH (_cheerfully_). Oh, that's all right. That might only mean +that you were getting a new bowler-hat. + +BAXTER (_dropping down_ L.C. _a few steps--suddenly_). Ah, and +what about you, sir? How is it that you take this so lightly? +(_Triumphantly_.) I have it. It all becomes clear to me. You have +transferred your affections to her daughter! + +DEVENISH. Oh, I say, Baxter, this is very crude. + +BELINDA. And why should he not, Mr. Baxter? (_Softly_.) He has made +me very happy. + +BAXTER (_staggered_). He has made you happy, Mrs. Tremayne! + +BELINDA. Very happy. + +BAXTER (_thoughtfully_). Oh! Oh ho! Oh ho! (_He takes a turn up +the room into the inner room, muttering to himself_. BELINDA +_kneels and watches him over the back of the Chesterfield. Then he +comes down again to her_ R. _side_.) Mrs. Tremayne, I have taken +a great resolve. (_Solemnly_.) I also will make you happy. +(_Thumping his heart_.) I also will woo Miss Delia. + +BELINDA. Oh! + +DEVENISH. Look here, Baxter-- + +BAXTER (_suddenly crossing and seizing_ DEVENISH'S _arm and +pulling him towards the siding doors up_ R. _between the Chesterfield +and the table_). Come, we will seek Miss Delia together. + +(BELINDA _seizes_ DEVENISH'S _hand as he is passing and he, clinging +to it, nearly pulls her off the Chesterfield. She is very amused_.) + +It may be that she will send us upon another quest in which I shall +again be victorious. + +(BELINDA _releases her hand and slips down into the Chesterfield. +Tempestuously_.) + +Come, I say-- + +(_He marches the resisting_ DEVENISH _to the swing doors_.) + +Let us put it to the touch, to win or lose it all. + +DEVENISH (_turning and appealing to_ BELINDA). Please! + +BELINDA (_gently_). Mr. Baxter... Harold. + +(BAXTER _stops and turns round_.) + +You are too impetuous. I think that as Delia's mother-- + +BAXTER (_coming down_ R. _to the foot of the_ C. +_table_). Your pardon, Mrs. Tremayne. In the intoxication of the +moment I am forgetting. (_Formally_.) I have the honour to ask your +permission to pay my addresses--(_Moves to chair_ L. _of table_.) + +BELINDA. No, no, I didn't mean that. But, as Delia's mother, I ought to +warn you that she is hardly fitted to take the place of your +housekeeper. She is not very domesticated. + +BAXTER (_indignantly_). Not domesticated? (_Sits_ L. _of +table_.) Why, did I not hear her tell her father at dinner that she +had arranged all the flowers? + +BELINDA. There are other things than flowers. + +DEVENISH (_on_ BAXTER'S R., _behind the table_). Bed-socks, +for instance, Baxter. + +(BAXTER _is annoyed_.) + +It's a very tricky thing airing bed-socks. I am sure your house-keeper-- + +BAXTER (_silencing_ DEVENISH). Mrs. Tremayne, she will learn. The +daughter of such a mother... I need say no more. + +BELINDA. Oh, thank you. But there is something else, Mr. Baxter. You are +not being quite fair to yourself. In starting out upon this simultaneous +wooing, you forget that Mr. Devenish has already had his turn--(DEVENISH +_tries to stop her_. BAXTER _turns round and nearly catches +him_.)--this morning alone. You should have yours ... alone ... too. + +DEVENISH. Oh, I say! + +BAXTER. Yes, yes, you are right. I must introduce myself first as a +suitor. I see that. (_Rising, to_ DEVENISH.) You stay here; +_I_ will go alone into the garden, and--(_Moving below table and +up to the swing doors_.) + +BELINDA. It is perhaps a little cold out of doors for people of ... of +our age, Mr. Baxter. Now, in the library-- + +BAXTER (_at the swing doors, turning to her, astonished_). Library? + +BELINDA. Yes. + +BAXTER (_moving down_ R. _a little_). You have a library? + +BELINDA (_to_ DEVENISH). He doesn't believe I have a library. + +DEVENISH. You ought to see the library, Baxter. + +BAXTER (_moving more down to below_ R. _of table_). But you +are continually springing surprises on me this evening, Mrs. Tremayne. +First a daughter, then a husband, and then--a library! I have been here +three weeks, and I never knew you had a library. Dear me, I wonder how +it is that I never saw it? + +BELINDA (_modestly, rising_). I thought you came to see _me_. + +BAXTER. Yes, yes, to see you, certainly. But if I had known you had a +library .... + +BELINDA. Oh, I am so glad I mentioned it. Wasn't it lucky, Mr. Devenish? + +BAXTER. My work has been greatly handicapped of late. + +(DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE _enter the garden from up_ L. _and +pass the window at the back_.) + +BELINDA (_sweetly_). By me? + +BAXTER. I was about to say by lack of certain books to which I wanted to +refer. It would be a great help. (_He moves up R, reflectively +muttering "Library."_) + +BELINDA (_moving below and to_ R. _of_ C. _table_). My +dear Mr. Baxter, my whole library is at your disposal. (_She turns +to_ DEVENISH, _who is on her_ L., _and at the back of the table. +She speaks in a confidential whisper_.) I'm just going to show him +the Encyclopedia Britannica. (_She moves below the settee to the door_ +R.) You won't mind waiting--Delia will be in directly. + +(BAXTER, _still muttering "Library," crosses to the door and opens it +for her. She goes out and he follows her_. DEVENISH _moves to the +R. of the swing doors and welcomes_ DELIA _and_ TREMAYNE. TREMAYNE +_enters from the portico and holds open the swing doors for_ DELIA.) + +DELIA (_speaking from the portico_). Hullo, we're just coming in. + +(_They enter and_ DELIA _moves down_ R. _of the +table_.) + +TREMAYNE. Where's Mrs. Tremayne? + +DEVENISH (_moving to down_ R.). She's gone to the library with +Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_coming down on_ DELIA'S R. _side--carelessly_). Oh, +the library. Where's that? + +DEVENISH (_promptly going towards the door, opening it and standing +above it_). The end door on the right. + +(DELIA _sits on the_ R. _end of the table facing_ R.) + +Right at the end. You can't mistake it. On the right. + +TREMAYNE. Ah, yes. (_He looks round at_ DELIA, _who points +significantly at the door twice_.) Yes. (_He looks at_ DEVENISH.) +Yes. (_He goes out_.) + +(DEVENISH _hastily shuts the door and comes back to_ DELIA.) + +DEVENISH. I say, your mother is a ripper. + +DELIA (_enthusiastically_). Isn't she! (_Remembering_.) At +least, you mean my aunt? + +DEVENISH (_smiling at her_). No, I mean your mother. To think that +I once had the cheek to propose to her. + +DELIA. Oh! Is it cheek to propose to people! + +DEVENISH. To _her_. + +DELIA. But not to me? + +DEVENISH. Oh I say, Delia! + +DELIA (_with great dignity_). Thank you, my name is Miss Robinson-- +I mean, Tremayne. + +DEVENISH. Well, if you're not quite sure which it is, it's much safer to +call you Delia. + +DELIA (_smiling_). Well, perhaps it is. + +DEVENISH. And if I did propose to you, you haven't answered + +DELIA (_sitting in the chair_ R. _of the table_). If you want +an answer now, it's no; but if you like to wait till next April----- + +DEVENISH (_moving up to behind table--reproachfully_). Oh, I say, +and I cut my hair for you the same afternoon. (_Turning quickly_.) +You haven't really told me how you like it yet. + +DELIA. Oh, how bad of me! You look lovely. + +DEVENISH (_sitting at back of the table_). And I promised to give +up poetry for your sake. + +DELIA. Perhaps I oughtn't to have asked you that. + +DEVENISH. As far as I'm concerned, Delia, I'll do it gladly, but, of +course, one has to think about posterity. + +DELIA. But you needn't be a poet. You could give posterity plenty to +think about if you were a statesman. + +DEVENISH. I don't quite see your objection to poetry. + +DELIA. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every +day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me +all about it. + +DEVENISH. Then you _are_ thinking of marrying me! + +DELIA. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to. + +DEVENISH (_he rises and taking her hands, raises her from the chair. +She backs a step to_ R.). Do. It would be rather fun if you did. And +look here--(_he pulls her gently back. They both sit on the table. He +places his arm round her waist_)--I _will_ be a statesman, if +you like, and go up to Downing Street every day, and come back in the +evening and tell you all about it. + +DELIA. How nice of you! + +DEVENISH (_magnificently, holding up his_ L. _hand to +Heaven_). Farewell, Parnassus! + +DELIA (_pulling down his hand_). What does that mean? + +DEVENISH. Well, it means that I've chucked poetry. A statesman's life +is the life for me; behold Mr. Devenish, the new M.P.--(_she holds up +her_ L. _hand admonishingly and he laughs apologetically _)--no, +look here, that was quite accidental. + +DELIA (_smiling at him_). I believe I shall really like you when I +get to know you. + +DEVENISH. I don't know if it's you, or Devonshire, or the fact that I've +had my hair cut, but I feel quite a different being from what I was +three days ago. + +DELIA. You _are_ different. (_They both rise from the table. She +pulls him to_ R. _one step_.) Perhaps it's your sense of humour +coming back. + +DEVENISH. Perhaps that's it. It's a curious feeling. + +DELIA (_pulling him towards the swing doors_). Let's go outside; +there's a heavenly moon. + +DEVENISH. Moon? Moon? Now where have I heard that word before? + +DELIA. What _do_ you mean? + +DEVENISH. I was trying not to be a poet. + +(DELIA _opens the doors_.) + +Well, I'll come with you, but I shall refuse to look at it. (_Putting +his_ L. _hand behind his back, he walks slowly out with her, saying +to himself_) The Prime Minister then left the House. + +(_They cross the windows at the back and go off_ L.) + +(BELINDA _and_ TREMAYNE _come from the library, the latter +holding the door for her to pass_.) + +BELINDA (_moving below the settee across the room_). Thank you. I +don't think it's unkind to leave him, do you? He seemed quite happy. + +TREMAYNE (_following her_). I shouldn't have been happy if we'd +stayed. + +BELINDA (_reaching the Chesterfield she puts her feet up. Her head it +towards_ L.). Yes, but I was really thinking of Mr. Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_above table_ C.). Not of me? + +BELINDA. Well, I thought it was Mr. Baxter's turn. Poor man, he's had a +disappointment lately. + +TREMAYNE (_coming to B. of the Chesterfield--eagerly_). A +disappointment? + +BELINDA. Yes, he thought I was--younger than I was. + +TREMAYNE (_smiling to himself_). How old are you, Belinda? + +BELINDA (_dropping her eyes_). Twenty-two. (_After a pause_.) +He thought I was eighteen. Such a disappointment! + +TREMAYNE (_smiling openly at her_). Belinda, how old are you? + +BELINDA. Just about the right age, Mr. Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. The right age for what? + +BELINDA. For this sort of conversation. + +TREMAYNE. Shall I tell you how old you are? + +BELINDA. Do you mean in figures or--poetically? + +TREMAYNE. I meant----- + +BELINDA. Mr. Devenish said I was as old as the--now, I must get this the +right way round--as old as the----- + +TREMAYNE. I don't want to talk about Mr. Devenish. + +BELINDA (_with a sigh_). Nobody ever does--except Mr. Devenish. As +old as the stars, and as young as the dawn. (_Settling herself +cosily_.) I think that's rather a nice age to be, don't you? + +TREMAYNE. A very nice age to be. + +BELINDA. It's a pity he's thrown me over for Delia; I shall miss that +sort of thing rather. You don't say those sort of things about your +aunt-in-law----not so often. + +TREMAYNE (_eagerly_). He really is in love with Miss Robinson! + +BELINDA. Oh yes. I expect he is out in the moonlight with her now, +comparing her to Diana. + +TREMAYNE. Well, that accounts for _him. _Now what about Baxter? + +BELINDA. I thought I told you. Deeply disappointed to find that I was +four years older than he expected, Mr. Baxter hurried from the drawing- +room and buried himself in a column of the _Encyclopedia Britannica_. + +TREMAYNE. Well, that settles Baxter. Are there any more men in the +neighbourhood? + +BELINDA (_shaking her head_). Isn't it awful? I've only had those +two for the last three weeks. + +(TREMAYNE _sits on the back of the Chesterfield and looks down at +her_.) + +TREMAYNE. Belinda. + +BELINDA. Yes, Henry! + +TREMAYNE. My name is John. + +BELINDA. Well, you never told me. I had to guess. Everybody thinks they +can call me Belinda without giving me the least idea what their own +names are. You were saying, John? + +TREMAYNE. My friends call me Jack. + +BELINDA. Jack Robinson. That's the man who always goes away so quickly. +I hope you're making more of a stay? + +TREMAYNE (_seizing her by both arms_). Oh, you maddening, maddening +woman! + +BELINDA. Well, I have to keep the conversation going. You do nothing but +say "Belinda." + +TREMAYNE (_taking her hand_). Have you ever loved anybody +seriously, Belinda? + +BELINDA. I don't ever do anything very seriously. The late Mr. Tremayne, +my first husband--Jack---- Isn't it funny, _his_ name was Jack--he +used to complain about it too sometimes. + +TREMAYNE (_with conviction_). Silly ass! + +BELINDA. Ah, I think you are a little hard on the late Mr. Tremayne. + +TREMAYNE. Belinda, I want you to marry me and forget about him. + +BELINDA (_happily to herself and lying back_). This is the proposal +that those lamb cutlets interrupted this morning. + +TREMAYNE. Belinda, I love you--do you understand? + +BELINDA. Suppose my first husband turns up suddenly like--like E. A.? + +TREMAYNE. Like who? + +BELINDA. Well, like anybody. + +TREMAYNE. He won't--I know he won't. Don't you love me enough to risk +it, Belinda? + +BELINDA. I haven't really said I love you at all yet. + +TREMAYNE. Well, say it now. + +(BELINDA _looks at him, and then down again_.) + +You do! Well, I'm going to have a kiss, anyway, (_He kisses her +quickly--moves to_ L. _of Chesterfield_.) There! + +BELINDA (_rising_). O-oh I The late Mr. Tremayne never did that. +(_She powders her nose_.) + +TREMAYNE. I have already told you that he was a silly ass. (_He makes +a move as if to kiss her again_.) + +BELINDA (_holding up her hand and sitting on the_ R. _side of the +Chesterfield_). I shall scream for Mr. Baxter. + +TREMAYNE (_sitting down on the Chesterfield, on her_ L, _side_.) +Belinda---- + +BELINDA. Yes, Henry--I mean, Jack? + +TREMAYNE. Do you know who I am! (_He is thoroughly enjoying the +surprise he is about to give her_.) + +BELINDA (_nodding_). Yes, Jack. + +TREMAYNE. Who? + +BELINDA. Jack Tremayne. + +TREMAYNE (_jumping up_). Good heavens, you _know_! + +BELINDA (_gently_). Yes, Jack. + +TREMAYNE (_angrily_). You've known all the time that I was your +husband, and you've been playing with me and leading me on. + +BELINDA (_mildly_). Well, darling, you knew all the time that I was +your wife, and you've been making love to me and leading me on. + +TREMAYNE. That's different. + +BELINDA (_to herself_). That's just what the late Mr. Tremayne +said, and then he slammed the door and went straight off to the Rocky +Mountains and shot bears; and I didn't see him again for eighteen years. + +TREMAYNE (_remorsefully_). Darling, I was a fool then, and I'm a +fool now. + +BELINDA. I was a fool then, but I'm not such a fool now--I'm not going +to let you go. It's quite time I married and settled down. + +TREMAYNE. You darling I (_He kisses her_.) How did you find out who +I was? + +BELINDA (_awkwardly_). Well, it was rather curious, darling. +(_After a pause_.) It was April, and I felt all sort of Aprily, +and--and--there was the garden all full of daffodils--and--and there was +Mr. Baxter--the one we left in the library--knowing all about moles. +He's probably got the M. volume down now. Well, we were talking about +them one day, and I happened to say that the late Mr. Tremayne--that was +you, darling--had rather a peculiar one on his arm. And then he happened +to see it this morning and told me about it. + +TREMAYNE. What an extraordinary story! + +BELINDA. Yes, darling; it's really much more extraordinary than that. I +think perhaps I'd better tell you the rest of it another time. +(_Coaxingly_.) Now show me where the nasty lion scratched you. + +(TREMAYNE _pulls up his sleeve_.) Oh! (_She kisses his arm_.) +You shouldn't have left Chelsea, darling. + +TREMAYNE. I should never have found you if I hadn't. + +BELINDA (_squeezing his arm_). No, Jack, you wouldn't. (_After a +pause_.) I--I've got another little surprise for you if--if you're +ready for it. (_Standing up and moving to the chair_ L. _of the +table_.) Properly speaking, I ought to be wearing white. I shall +certainly stand up while I'm telling you. (_Modestly_.) Darling, we +have a daughter--our little Delia. (_He is standing in front of the +fireplace_.) + +TREMAYNE. Delia? You said her name was Robinson. + +BELINDA. Yes, darling, but you said yours was. One always takes one's +father's name. Unless, of course, you were Lord Robinson. + +TREMAYNE. But you said her name was Robinson before you-- + +(_She makes a playful move_.) + +--Oh, never mind about that. A daughter? Belinda, how could you let me +go and not tell me? + +BELINDA. You forget how you'd slammed the door. It isn't the sort of +thing you shout through the window to a man on his way to America. + +TREMAYNE (_taking her in his arms_). Oh, Belinda, don't let me ever +go away again. + +(DEVENISH _and_ DELIA _enter from up_ L. _and pass the +windows on the way to the swing doors_.) + +BELINDA. I'm not going to, Jack. I'm going to settle down into a staid +old married woman. + +TREMAYNE. Oh no, you're not. You're going on just as you did before. And +I'm going to propose to you every April, and win you, over all the other +men in love with you. + +BELINDA. You darling! (_They embrace_.) + +(DELIA _and_ DEVENISH _come in from the garden_.) + +TREMAYNE (_quietly to_ BELINDA). Our daughter. + +DELIA (_going up to_ TREMAYNE). You're my father. + +TREMAYNE. If you don't mind very much, Delia. + +DELIA. You've been away a long time. + +TREMAYNE. I'll do my best to make up for it. + +BELINDA. Delia, darling, I think you might kiss your poor old father. + +(_As the does to,_ DEVENISH _suddenly and hastily kisses_ +BELINDA _on the cheek_.) + +DEVENISH. Just in case you're going to be my mother-in-law. + +TREMAYNE. We seem to be rather a family party. + +BELINDA (_suddenly_). There! (_Moving to the door_ L.) We've +forgotten Mr. Baxter again. + +BAXTER (_who has come in quietly with a book in his hand_). Oh, don't mind +about me, Mrs. Tremayne. I've enjoyed myself immensely. (_He crosses to +the arm-chair below the fireplace and places it in front of the fire_.) + +(BELINDA _and_ TREMAYNE _move up into the inner room by the +refectory table and embrace, their backs to_ BAXTER. DELIA _and_ +DEVENISH _are by the swing doors. They also embrace, their backs to_ +BAXTER.) + +(_Referring to his book_.) I have been collecting some most valuable +information on (looking round at them and sitting in the arm-chair and +continuing to read) lunacy in the--er--county of Devonshire. + +(_The_ CURTAIN _falls_.) + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Belinda, by A. A. Milne + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BELINDA *** + +This file should be named belda10.txt or belda10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, belda11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, belda10a.txt + +This eBook was produced by Curtis A. Weyant, Stan Goodman, +Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Milne</title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- h1,h2,h3,h4 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps } + h1 { margin-top: 2em } + h2 { margin-top: 1.5em } + li.toc { font-variant: small-caps } + p.smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + span.char { font-variant: small-caps; } + span.stage { font-variant: small-caps; } + --> + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Belinda, by A. A. Milne +#4 in our series by A. A. Milne + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Belinda + +Author: A. A. Milne + +Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6992] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on February 20, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BELINDA *** + + + + +This eBook was produced by Curtis A. Weyant, Stan Goodman, +Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>Belinda</h1> +<h2>An April Folly in Three Acts</h2> + +<p style="text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps">by</p> + +<h2>A. A. Milne</h2> + + +<h1>Characters</h1> + + +<p>Produced by Mr. Dion Boucioault at the New Theatre, London, on April 8, +1918, with the following cast:—</p> + +<blockquote><span class="char">Belinda Tremayne</span> .......... <i>Irene Vanbrugh</i>.<br /> +<span class="char">Delia</span> (her Daughter) ...... <i>Isabel Elsom</i>.<br /> +<span class="char">Harold Baxter</span> ............. <i>Dion Boucicault</i>.<br /> +<span class="char">Claude Devenish</span> ........... <i>Dennis Neilson-Terry</i>.<br /> +<span class="char">John Tremayne</span> ............. <i>Ben Webster</i>.<br /> +<span class="char">Betty</span> ..................... <i>Anne Walden</i>.</blockquote> + +<p>The action takes place in Belinda's country-house in Devonshire at the +end of April, the first act in the garden and the second and last acts +in the hall</p> + + +<p>[Illustration]</p> + + +<h1>Belinda</h1> + + +<h2>Act I</h2> + +<p><i>It is a lovely April afternoon–a foretaste of summer–in</i> +<span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>garden</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>a middle-aged servant, is fastening a hammock–its first +appearance this year–to a tree down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>In front there is a +garden-table, with a deck-chair on the right of it and a straight-backed +one to the left. There are books, papers, and magazines on the +table</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>of whom we shall know more presently, is on the +other side of the open windows which look on to the garden, talking +to</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>who crosses to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of hammock, securing it to +tree</i> <span class="stage">C.</span></p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>from inside the house</i>). Are you sure you're tying it up +tightly enough, Betty?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span> (<i>coming to front of hammock</i>). Yes, ma'am; I think it's +firm.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Because I'm not the fairy I used to be.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span> (<i>testing hammock</i>). Yes, ma'am; it's quite firm this end +too.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>entering from portico with sunshade open</i>). It's not the +ends I'm frightened of; it's the middle where the weight's coming. +(<i>Comes down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and admiring</i>.) It looks very nice. (<i>She crosses +at back of wicker table, hanging her hand-bag on hammock. Closes and +places her sunshade at back of tree</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>trying the middle of it with her hand</i>). I asked them at +the Stores if they were quite <i>sure</i> it would bear me, and they +said it would take anything up to–I forget how many tons. I know I +thought it was rather rude of them. (<i>Looking at it anxiously, and +trying to get in, first with her right leg and then her left</i>.) How +does one get in! So trying to be a sailor!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. I think you sit in it, ma'am, and then (<i>explaining with her +hands</i>) throw your legs over.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I see. (<i>She sits gingerly in the hammock, and then, with a +sudden flutter of white, does what</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>suggests</i>.) Yes. +(<i>Regretfully</i>.) I'm afraid that was rather wasted on you, Betty. +We must have some spectators next time.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yea, ma'am</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Cushions.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>moves to and takes a cushion from deck-chair</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>assists her to place it at back of her head</i>. <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>then goes +to back of hammock and arranges</i> <span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>dress</i>.)</p> + +<p>There! Now then, Betty, about callers.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. If Mr. Baxter calls–he is the rather prim gentleman—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yea, ma'am; the one who's been here several times before. +(<i>Moves to below and</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of hammock</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>giving</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>a quick look</i>). Yes. Well, if he +calls, you'll say, "Not at home."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. He will say (<i>imitating</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter</span>), "Oh–er–oh–er–really." Then you'll smile very sweetly and say, "I beg your pardon, was +it Mr. <i>Baxter</i>?" And he'll say, "Yes!" and you'll say, "Oh, I beg +your pardon, sir; <i>this</i> way, please."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's right, Betty. Well now, if Mr. Devenish calls–he is the +rather poetical gentleman—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am; the one who's <i>always</i> coming here.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a pleased smile</i>). Yes. Well, if he calls you'll +say, "Not at home."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. He'll immediately (<i>extending her arms descriptively</i>) +throw down his bunch of flowers and dive despairingly into the moat. +You'll stop him, just as he is going in, and say, "I beg your pardon, +sir, was it Mr. <i>Devenish</i>?" And he will say, "Yes!" and you will +say, "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; <i>this</i> way, please."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am. And suppose they both call together?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>non-plussed for a moment</i>). We won't suppose anything so +exciting, Betty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. No, ma'am. And suppose any other gentleman calls?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sigh</i>). There aren't any other gentlemen.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. It might be a clergyman, come to ask for a subscription like.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. If it's a clergyman, Betty, I shall–I shall want your +assistance out of the hammock first.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's all.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>crosses below table and chairs to porch</i>.)</p> + +<p>To anybody else I'm not at home, (<i>Trying to secure book on table and +nearly falling out of the hammock</i>.) Oh, just give me that little +green book. (<i>Pointing to books on the table</i>.) The one at the +bottom there–that's the one. (<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>gives it to her</i>.) Thank you. +(<i>Reading the title</i>.) "The Lute of Love," by Claude Devenish. +(<i>To herself as she turns the pages</i>.) It doesn't seem much for +half-a-crown when you think of the <i>Daily Telegraph</i> .... Lute ... +Lute .... I should have quite a pretty mouth if I kept on saying that. +(<i>With a great deal of expression</i>.) Lute! (<i>She pats her mouth +back</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Is that all, ma'am?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's all. (<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>prepares to go</i>.) Oh, what am I +thinking of! (<i>Waving to the table</i>.) I want that review; I think +it's the blue one. (<i>As</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>begins to look</i>.) It has an +article by Mr. Baxter on the "Rise of Lunacy in the Eastern Counties"—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>gives her "The Nineteenth Century" Magazine</i>.)</p> + +<p>–yes, that's the one. I'd better have that too; I'm just at the most +exciting place. You shall have it after <i>me</i>, Betty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Is that all, ma'am?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, that really is all.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>goes into the house</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reading to herself very pronouncedly</i>). "It is a matter of +grave concern to all serious students of social problems–" (<i>Putting +the review down in hammock and shaking her head gently</i>.) But not in +April. (<i>Lazily opening the book and reading</i>.) "Tell me where is +love"–well, that's the question, isn't it? (<i>She lies back in the +hammock lazily and the book of poems falls from her to the ground</i>. +<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>comes into the garden, from Paris. She is decidedly a modern +girl, pretty and self-possessed. Her hair is half-way up; waiting for +her birthday, perhaps. She sees her mother suddenly, stops, and then +goes on tiptoe to the head of the hammock. She smiles and kisses her +mother on the forehead</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>looking supremely unconscious, +goes on sleeping</i>. <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>kisses her lightly again</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>wakes up with an extraordinarily natural start, and is just about to +say</i>, "Oh, Mr. Devenish–you mustn't!"–<i>when she sees</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) +Delia! (<i>They kiss each other frantically</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, mummy, aren't you glad to see me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. My darling child!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Say you're glad.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sitting up</i>). My darling, I'm absolutely–(<span class="char">Delia</span> +<i>crosses round to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of hammock</i>.) Hold the hammock while I +get out, dear; we don't want an accident. (<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>holds the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>end of it and</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>struggles out, leaving the magazine and +her handkerchief in the hammock</i>.) They're all right when you're +there, and they'll bear two tons, but they're horrid getting in and out +of. (<i>Kissing her again</i>.) Darling, it really <i>is</i> you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, it is jolly seeing you again. I believe you were asleep.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with dignity</i>). Certainly not, child. I was reading +<i>The Nineteenth Century</i>–(<i>with an air</i>)–and after. (<i>Earnestly</i>) Darling, +wasn't it next Thursday you were coming back?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. No, this Thursday, silly.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>penitently</i>). Oh, my darling, and I was going over to +Paris to bring you home.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I half expected you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. So confusing their both being called Thursday. And you were +leaving school for the very last time. If you don't forgive me, Delia, I +shall cry.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>kissing her and stroking her hand fondly</i>). Silly mother!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>sits down in the deck-chair and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>sits on the +table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Isn't it a lovely day for April, darling! I've wanted to say +that to somebody all day, and you're the first person who's given me the +chance. Oh, I said it to Betty, but she only said, "Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Poor mother!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>jumping up suddenly, crossing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of and +kissing</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>again</i>). I simply must have another one. And to +think that you're never going back to school any more. (<i>Looking at +her fondly, and backing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) Darling, you <i>are</i> looking +pretty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Am I?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Lovely. (<i>She kisses her once more, then she takes the +cushion from the hammock, moves at back of table and places it on the +head of the deck-chair</i>.) And now you're going to stay with me for +just as long as you want a mother. (<i>Anxiously moving to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of +deckchair</i>.) Darling, you didn't mind being sent away to school, did +you? It <i>is</i> the usual thing, you know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Silly mother! of course it is.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>relieved, and sitting on deck-chair</i>). I'm so glad you +think so too.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Have you been very lonely without me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sly look at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). Very.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>turning to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and holding up a finger</i>). The +truth, mummy!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I've missed you horribly, Delia. (<i>Primly</i>.) The absence +of female companionship of the requisite—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Are you really all alone?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>smiling mysteriously and coyly</i>). Well, not always, of +course.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly, at she slips off the table, and backing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>a little</i>). Mummy, I believe you're being bad again.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Really, darling, you forget that I'm old enough to be–in fact, +am–your mother.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>nodding her head</i>). You are being bad.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rising with dignity and drawing herself up to her full +height, moving</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). My child, that is not the way to–Oh, I say, +what a lot taller I am than you! (<i>Turning her back to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> +<i>and comparing sizes</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And prettier.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>playfully rubbing noses with</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). Oh, do you think +so? (<i>Firmly, but pleased</i>.) Don't be silly, child.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>holding up a finger</i>). Now tell me all that's been +happening here at once.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sigh</i>). And I was just going to ask you how you +were getting on with your French. (<i>Sits in deck-chair</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Bother French! You've been having a much more interesting time +than I have, so you've got to tell.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a happy sigh</i>). O-oh! (<i>She sinks back into her +chair</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>taking off her coat</i>). Is it like the Count at Scarborough?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>surprised and pained</i>). My darling, what do you mean?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Don't you remember the Count who kept proposing to you at +Scarborough? I do. (<i>Places coat on hammock</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Dear one, you were the merest child, +paddling about on the beach and digging castles.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling to herself</i>). I was old enough to notice the Count.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sadly</i>). And I'd bought her a perfectly new spade! How +one deceives oneself!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>at table and leaning across, with hands on table</i>). And +then there was the M.P. who proposed at Windermere.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, dear, but it wasn't seconded–I mean he never got very far +with it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And the artist in Wales.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Darling child, what a memory you have. No wonder your teachers +are pleased with you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>settling herself comfortably in deck-chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> +<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and lying in her arms</i>). Now tell me all about this one.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>meekly</i>). Which one?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Oh, are there lots?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>severely</i>). Only two.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Two! You abandoned woman!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It's something in the air, darling. I've never been in +Devonshire in April before.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Is it really serious this time?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pained</i>). I wish you wouldn't say this time, Delia. It +sounds so unromantic. If you'd only put it into French–<i>cette +fois</i>–it sounds so much better. <i>Cette fois</i>. (<i>Parentally</i>.) +When one's daughter has just returned from an expensive schooling in +Paris, one likes to feel—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What I meant, dear, was, am I to have a stepfather at last?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Now you're being too French, darling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Why, do you still think father may be alive?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Why not? It's only eighteen years since he left us, and he was +quite a young man then.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes, but surely, surely you'd have heard from him in all those +years, if he'd been alive?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, he hasn't heard from <i>me</i>, and I'm still alive.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>looking earnestly at her mother, rises and moves</i> <span class="stage">L.C.</span>). I +shall never understand it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Understand what?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Were you as heavenly when you were young as you are now?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rapturously</i>). Oh, I was sweet!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And yet he left you after only six months.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rather crossly, sitting up</i>). I wish you wouldn't keep on +saying he left me. I left him too.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>running to and kneeling in front of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and looking +anxiously into her face</i>). Why?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>smiling to herself</i>). Well, you see, he was quite certain +he knew how to manage women, and I was quite certain I knew how to +manage men. (<i>Thoughtfully</i>.) If only one of us had been certain, +it would have been all right.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>seriously</i>). What really happened, mummy? I'm grown up now, +so I think you ought to tell me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>thoughtfully</i>). That was about all, you know ... except +for his beard.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Had he a beard? (<i>Laughing</i>.) How funny!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>roaring with laughter, in which</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>joins</i>). +Yes, dear, it was; but he never would see it. He took it quite +seriously.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And did you say dramatically, "If you really loved me, you'd take +it off"?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). I'm afraid I did, darling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And what did he say?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. He said–<i>very</i> rudely–that, if I loved <i>him</i>, I'd +do my hair in a different way.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>sinks down on her haunches, facing the audience</i>). How +ridiculous!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>touching her hair</i>). Of course, I didn't do it like this +then. I suppose we never ought to have married, really.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Why did you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mother rather wanted it. (<i>Solemnly</i>.) Delia, never get +married because your mother— Oh, I forgot; <i>I'm</i> your mother.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. And I don't want a better one ... (<i>They embrace</i>.) And so +you left each other?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But, darling, didn't you tell him there was going to be a Me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I wonder why not?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, you see, if I had, he might have wanted to stay.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>hurt</i>). If he didn't want to stay for <i>me</i>, I didn't +want him to stay for <i>you</i>. (<i>Penitently</i>.) Forgive me, darling, +but I didn't know you very well then. We've been very happy together, +haven't we?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going to the hammock, sitting in it and dangling her +legs</i>). I should think we have.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>leaning back in chair</i>). I don't want to deny you +anything, and, of course, if you'd like a stepfather (<i>looking down +modestly</i>) or two—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, you <i>have</i> been enjoying yourself.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Only you see how awkward it would be if Jack turned up in the +middle of the wedding, like–like Eugene Aram.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Enoch Arden, darling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It's very confusing their having the same initials. Perhaps I'd +better call them both E. A. in future and then I shall be safe. Well, +anyhow it would be awkward, darling, wouldn't it? Not that I should know +him from Adam after all these years–except for a mole on his left arm.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Perhaps Adam had a mole.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No, darling; you're thinking of Noah. He had two.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>thoughtfully</i>). I wonder what would happen if you met +somebody whom you really <i>did</i> fall in love with?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Now you're being serious, and it's +April.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Aren't these two–the present two–serious?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no! They think they are, but they aren't a bit, really. +Besides, I'm doing them such a lot of good. I'm sure they'd hate to +marry me, but they love to think they're in love with me, and–<i>I</i> +love it, and–and <i>they</i> love it, and–and we <i>all</i> love it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>rising and crossing to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). You really are the +biggest, darlingest baby who ever lived. (<i>Kisses her</i>.) Do say I +shan't spoil your lovely times.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>surprised</i>). Spoil them? Why, you'll make them more +lovely than ever.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>turning away and sitting on table</i>). Well, but do they know +you have a grown-up daughter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>suddenly realizing and sitting up</i>). Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. It doesn't really matter, because you don't look a day more than +thirty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>absently</i>). No. (<i>Hurriedly</i>.) I mean, how sweet of +you–only—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>playing with her rings</i>). Well, one of them, Mr. Baxter–Harold–(<i>she looks quickly up at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and down again in +pretty affectation, but she is really laughing at herself all the +time</i>) he writes statistical articles for the Reviews–percentages +and all those things. He's just the sort of man, if he knew that I was +your mother, to work it out that I was more than thirty. The other one, +Mr. Devenish–Claude–(<i>she looks up and down as before</i>) he's +rather, rather poetical. He thinks I came straight from heaven–last +week.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>laughing and jumping up and crossing below deck-chair to</i> +<span class="stage">R.</span> <i>towards house</i>). I think <i>I'd</i> better go straight back to +Paris.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>jumping up and catching her firmly by the left arm</i>). You +will do nothing of the sort. (<i>Pulling</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>back to centre</i>.) +You will take off that hat–(<i>she lets go of the arm and begins to +take out the pin</i>) which is a perfect duck, and I don't know why I +didn't say so before–(<i>she puts the hat down on the table</i>) and +let me take a good look at you (<i>she does so</i>), and kiss you (<i>she +does so, then crosses</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>below her and takes her towards the +house</i>), and then we'll go to your room and unpack and have a lovely +talk about clothes. And then we'll have tea.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>comes in and stands up at back</i>.)</p> + +<p>And now here's Betty coming in to upset all our delightful plans, just +when we'vt made them. (<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>are now on</i> <span class="char">Betty's</span> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>leaving</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and shaking hands with</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>). How +are you, Betty? I've left school.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Very nicely, thank you, miss. (<i>Backing to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and +admiring</i>.) You've grown.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving to and patting the top of</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span> <i>head</i>). +I'm much taller than she is... (<i>Crossing to</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>in front +of</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) Well, Betty, what is it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. The two gentlemen, Mr. Baxter and Mr. Devenish, have both called +together, ma'am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>excited</i>). Oh! How–how very simultaneous of them!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>eagerly, going towards house</i>). Oh, do let me see them!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>stopping her</i>). Darling, you'll see plenty of them before +you've finished. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>in an exaggerated whisper</i>.) What have +you done with them?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. They're waiting in the hall, ma'am, while I said I would see if +you were at home.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. All right, Betty. Give me two minutes and then show them out +here.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, ma'am.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>crosses below</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and exits into +the house</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>taking</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a step</i>). They can't +do much harm to each other in two minutes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>taking her hat from table</i>). Well, I'll go and unpack. +(<i>She goes back to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>.) You really won't mind my coming down +afterwards?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Of course not. (<i>A little awkwardly, taking</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span> +<i>arm and moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>) Darling one, I wonder if you'd mind–just +at first–being introduced as my niece. (<i>By now at foot of deck-chair</i>.) You see, I expect they're in a bad temper already +(<i>now</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>), having come here together, and we don't want to spoil +their day entirely.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling, on</i> <span class="char">Belinda's</span> <span class="stage">L.</span>). I'll be your mother if you +like.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no, that wouldn't do, because then Mr. Baxter would feel +that he ought to ask your permission before paying his attentions to me. +He's just that sort of man. A niece is so safe–however good you are at +statistics, you can't really prove anything.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. All right, mummy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>enjoying herself</i>). You'd like to be called by a +different name, wouldn't you? There's something so thrilling about +taking a false name. Such a lot of adventures begin like that. How would +you like to be Miss Robinson, darling? It's a nice easy one to remember. +(<i>Persuasively</i>.) And you shall put your hair up so as to feel more +disguised. What fun we're going to have!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You baby! All right, then, I'm Miss Robinson, your favourite +niece. (<i>She takes her jacket from the hammock and moves towards the +house</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How sweet of you! No, no, not that way–you'll meet them. +(<i>Following quickly up between tree and table to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>who has +now reached the house</i>.) Oh, I'm coming with you to do your hair. +(<i>Moving up</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, <i>arm in arm with</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) You don't think you're +going to be allowed to do it yourself, when so much depends on it, and +husbands leave you because of it, and—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>seeing</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>entering from house, hurries</i> +<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>and they bob down behind the yew hedge</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> +<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>comes from the house into the garden, crossing to centre and up +stage looking for</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Mr. Devenish</span>. +<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>gives an angry look round at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>as he enters</i>. <span class="char">Mr. +Baxter</span> <i>is forty-five, prim and erect, with close-trimmed moustache and +side-whiskers. His clothes are dark and he wears a bowler-hat</i>. <span class="char">Mr. Devenish</span> <i>is a long-haired, good-looking boy in a négligé costume; +perhaps twenty-two years old, and very scornful of the world</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> +<i>crosses to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>below</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>and turns to her with a sharp inquiring +glance</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>languidly admiring the garden</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span> (<i>looking about her surprised</i>). The mistress was here a +moment ago. (<i>The two heads pop up from behind the hedge and then down +again immediately</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>exeunt</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). I expect she'll +be back directly, if you'll just wait.</p> + +<p>(<i>She goes back into the house</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>crossing to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>meets</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>who has moved +up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is annoyed and with an impatient gesture comes down +between the tree and the table to chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and sits</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> +<i>throws his felt hat on to the table and walks to the back of the +hammock. He sees the review in the hammock and picks it up</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Good heavens, Baxter, she's been reading your article!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I dare say she's not the only one.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. That's only guesswork (<i>going to back of table</i>); you +don't know of anyone else.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with contempt</i>). How many people, may I ask, have bought +your poems?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>loftily</i>). I don't write for the mob.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I think I may say that of my own work.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Baxter, I don't want to disappoint you, but I have reluctantly +come to the conclusion that you are one of the mob. (<i>Throws magazine +down on table, annoyed</i>.) Dash it! what are you doing in the country +at all in a bowler-hat?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. If I wanted to be personal, I could say, "Why don't you get your +hair cut?" Only that form of schoolboy humour doesn't appeal to me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. This is not a personal matter; I am protesting on behalf of +nature. (<i>Leaning against tree</i>.) What do the birds and the flowers +and the beautiful trees think of your hat?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. If one began to ask oneself what the <i>birds</i> thought of +things–(<i>He pauses</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, and why shouldn't one ask oneself? It is better than +asking oneself what the Stock Exchange thinks of things.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Well (<i>looking up at</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>extravagant hair</i>), +it's the nesting season. Your hair! (<i>Suddenly</i>.) Ha! ha! ha! ha! +ha! ha!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>hastily smoothing it down</i>). Really, Baxter, you're +vulgar. (<i>He turns away and resumes his promenading, going down <span class="stage">R.</span> and +then round deck-chair to front of hammock. Suddenly he sees his book on +the grass beneath the hammock and makes a dash for it</i>.) Ha, my book! +(<i>Gloating over it</i>.) Baxter, she reads my book.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I suppose you gave her a copy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (exultingly). Yes, I gave her a copy. My next book will be hers +and hers alone.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Then let me say that, in my opinion, you took a very great +liberty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Liberty! And this from a man who is continually forcing his +unwelcome statistics upon her.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. At any rate, I flatter myself that there is no suggestion of +impropriety in anything that <i>I</i> write.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I'm not so sure about that, Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. What do you mean, sir?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Did you read The Times this month on the new reviews!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Well!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh, nothing. It just said, "Mr. Baxter's statistics are +extremely suggestive."</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>makes a gesture of annoyance</i>.)</p> + +<p>I haven't read them, so of course I don't know what you've been up to.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising, turning away in disgust and crossing up</i> L). Pah!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Poor old Baxter! (<i>Puts book of poems down on table and +crosses below chair and gathers a daffodil from a large vase down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> +<i>and saying</i> "Poor old Baxter!" <i>ad lib</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>moves round back +of hammock and to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>collides with</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>and much annoyed +goes down between table and tree towards chair down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) Baxter–(<i>moving to and leaning against tree</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>turning to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>crossly</i>). I wish you wouldn't +keep calling me "Baxter."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Harold.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>displays annoyance, and continues his walk to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. It is only by accident–an accident which we both deplore–that +we have met at all, and in any case I am a considerably older man than +yourself. (<i>Sits</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Mr. Baxter–father–(<i>gesture of annoyance from</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>)–I have a proposal to make. We will leave it to this beautiful flower to +decide which of us the lady loves.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>turning round</i>). Eh?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pulling off the petals</i>). She loves me, she loves Mr. +Baxter, she loves me, she loves Mr. Baxter–(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>appears in the +porch</i>)–Heaven help her!–she loves me—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). What are you doing, Mr. Devenish!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>throwing away the flower and bowing very low</i>). My lady.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>rises quickly</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (removing his bowler-hat stiffly). Good afternoon, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p>(<i>She gives her left hand to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who kisses it, and her +right to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>who shakes it</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How nice of you both to come!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Mr. Devenish and I are inseparable–apparently.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You haven't told me what you were doing, Mr. Devenish. Was it +(<i>plucking an imaginary flower</i>) "This year, next year?" or "Silk, +satin–"</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. My lady, it was even more romantic than that. I have the +honour to announce to your ladyship that Mr. Baxter is to be a sailor. +(<i>Dances round imitating the hornpipe</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). Doesn't he talk nonsense?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. He'll grow out of it. I did.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and then to centre towards +hammock</i>). Oh, I hope not. I love talking nonsense, and I'm ever so +old. (<i>As they both start forward to protest</i>.) Now which one of +you will say it first?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You are as old as the stars and as young as the dawn.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. You are ten years younger than I am.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. What sweet things to say! I don't know which I like best. + +<span class="char">Devenish</span>. Where will my lady sit!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with an exaggerated curtsy</i>). I will recline in the +hammock, an it please thee, my lord—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>goes to the right of the hammock, saying</i> "Allow me." +<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves to the left of the hammock and holds it, takes up a +cushion which</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>snatches from him and places in hammock +again</i>.)</p> + +<p>–only it's rather awkward getting in, Mr. Baxter. Perhaps you'd both +better look at the tulips for a moment.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Oh–ah–yes. (<i>Crosses down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>turns his back to the +hammock and examines the flowers</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (leaning over her). If only—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You'd better not say anything, Mr. Devenlsh. Keep it for your +next volume. (<i>He turns away and examines flowers on</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>She +sits on hammock</i>.) One, two, three–(<i>throws her legs over</i>)–that was better than last time. (<i>They turn round to see her safely in +the hammock</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>leans against the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>tree at her feet, +and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>draws the deck-chair from the right side of the table +and turns it round towards her. He presses his hat more firmly on +and sits down</i>.) I wonder if either of you can guess what I've been +reading this afternoon!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>looking at her lovingly</i>). I know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>giving him a fleeting look</i>). How did you know?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, I—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). Yes, Mr. Baxter, it was your article I was +reading. If you'd come five minutes earlier you'd have found me +wrestling–I mean revelling in it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I am very greatly honoured, Mrs. Tremayne. Ah–it seemed to me a +very interesting curve showing the rise and fall of—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I hadn't got up to the curves. They <i>are</i> interesting, +aren't they? They are really more in Mr. Devenish's line. (<i>To</i> +<span class="char">Devenish</span>.) Mr. Devenish, it was a great disappointment to me that all +the poems in your book seemed to be written to somebody else.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It was before I met you, lady. They were addressed to the +goddess of my imagination. It is only in these last few weeks that I +have discovered her.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And discovered she was dark and not fair.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. She will be dark in my next volume.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, how nice of her!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>kindly</i>). You should write a real poem to Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Oh do! "To Belinda." I don't know what +rhymes, except cinder. You could say your heart was like a cinder–all +burnt up.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pained</i>). Oh, my lady, I'm afraid that is a cockney +rhyme.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How thrilling! I've never been to Hampstead Heath.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. "Belinda." It is far too beautiful to rhyme with anything but +itself.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Fancy! But what about Tremayne? (<i>Singing</i>.) Oh, I am Mrs. +Tremayne, and I don't want to marry again.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>protesting</i>). My lady!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>protesting</i>). Belinda!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pointing excitedly to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). There, that's the first +time he's called me Belinda! This naughty boy–(<i>indicating</i> +<span class="char">Devenish</span>)–is always doing it–by accident.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Are you serious?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Not as a rule.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You're not going to marry again?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, who could I marry?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> and <span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>together</i>). Me!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her eyes modestly</i>). But this is England.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising and taking off his hat, which he places on table, and +going up to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the right of age–of my +greater years–to speak first.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Mrs. Tremayne, I—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>kindly to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). You can speak afterwards, Mr. +Devenish. It's so awkward when you both speak together. (<i>To</i> +<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>giving encouragement</i>.) Yes?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving down a little and then returning to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Mrs. +Tremayne, I am a man of substantial position–(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>sniggers–to</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span> <i>great annoyance</i>.) and perhaps I may say of some +repute in serious circles.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>sniggers again</i>.)</p> + +<p>All that I have, whether of material or mental endowment, I lay at your +feet, together with an admiration which I cannot readily put into words. +As my wife I think you would be happy, and I feel that with you by my +side I could achieve even greater things.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How sweet of you! But I ought to tell you that I'm no good at +figures.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>protesting</i>). My lady—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I don't mean what you mean, Mr. Devenish. You wait till it's +your turn. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>.) Yes?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>very formally</i>). I ask you to marry me, Belinda.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>settling herself happily and closing her eyes</i>). O-oh!... +Now it's <i>your</i> turn, Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Money–thank Heaven, I have no money. +Reputation–thank Heaven, I have no reputation.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>very annoyed, moves down and sits on deck-chair</i>.)</p> + +<p>What can I offer you? Dreams–nothing but dreams. Come with me and I +will show you the world through my dreams. What can I give you? Youth, +freedom, beauty—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Debts.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>still with her eyes shut</i>). You mustn't interrupt, Mr. +Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>leaning across hammock</i>). Belinda, marry me and I will +open your eyes to the beauty of the world. Come to me!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>happily</i>). O-oh! You've got such different ways of +putting things. How can I choose between you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Then you will marry one of us?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You know I really <i>oughtn't</i> to.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I don't see why not.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, there's just a little difficulty in the way.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. What is it? I will remove it. For you I could remove anything +–yes, even Baxter. (<i>He looks at</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>who is sitting more +solidly than ever in his chair</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And anyhow I should have to choose between you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>in a whisper</i>), choose me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>stiffly</i>). Mrs. Tremayne does not require any prompting. A +fair field and let the best man win.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>going across to and slapping the astonished</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> +<i>on the back</i>). Aye, let the best man win! Well spoken, Baxter. +(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is very annoyed. To</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and going back to her</i> +<span class="stage">L.</span>) Send us out into the world upon some knightly quest, lady, and let +the victor be rewarded.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I–er–ought to say that I should be unable to go very far. I +have an engagement to speak at Newcastle on the 2lst.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Baxter, I will take no unfair advantage of you. Let the beard +of the Lord Mayor of Newcastle be the talisman that my lady demands; I +am satisfied.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. This sort of thing is entirely contrary to my usual mode of +life, but I will not be outfaced by a mere boy. (<i>Rising</i>.) I am +prepared. (<i>Going to her</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Speak, lady.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>speaking in a deep, mysterious voice</i>). Gentlemen, ye put +wild thoughts into my head. In sooth, I <i>am</i> minded to send ye +forth upon a quest that is passing strange. Know ye that there is a maid +journeyed hither, hight Robinson–whose–(<i>in her natural voice</i>) +what's the old for aunt?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>hopefully</i>). Mother's sister.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You know, I think I shall have to explain this in ordinary +language. You won't mind very much, will you, Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is the spirit of this which matters, not the language +which clothes it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I'm so glad you think so. Well, now about Miss Robinson. +She's my niece and she's just come to stay with me, and–poor girl–she's lost her father. Absolutely lost him. He disappeared ever such a +long time ago, and poor Miss Robinson–Delia–naturally wants to find +him. Poor girl! she <i>can't</i> think where he is.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>nobly</i>). I will find him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, thank you, Mr. Devenish; Miss Robinson would be so much +obliged.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes–er–but what have we to go upon? Beyond the fact that his +name is Robinson—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I shouldn't go on <i>that</i> too much. You see, he may easily +have changed it by now. He was never very much of a Robinson. Nothing to +do with Peter or any of those.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I will find him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with a look of annoyance at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Well, can you tell +us what he's like?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, it's such a long time since I saw him. (<i>Looking down +modestly</i>.) Of course, I was quite a girl then. The only thing I know +for certain is that he has a mole on his left arm about here. (<i>She +indicates a spot just below the elbow</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>examines it +closely</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>folding his arms and looking nobly upwards</i>). I will +find him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I am bound to inform you, Mrs. Tremayne, that even a trained +detective could not give you very much hope in such a case. However, I +will keep a look-out for him, and, of course, if—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Fear not, lady, I will find him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>annoyed</i>). Yes, you keep on saying that, but what have you +got to go on?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>grandly</i>). Faith! The faith which moves mountains.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, and this is only just one small mole-hill, Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, but still—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. S'sh! here is Miss Robinson.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>takes up his hat and moves below the deck-chair to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> +<i>to meet</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p>If Mr. Devenish will hold the hammock while I alight–we don't want an +accident—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>comes out of the house</i>.)</p> + +<p>–I can introduce you. (<i>He helps her to get out, holding the +hammock</i>.) Thank you. Delia darling (<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>) this +is Mr. Baxter,–and Mr. Devenish. My niece, Miss Robinson—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>shakes hands with</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and moves to</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>below</i> +<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and shakes hands with</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How do you do?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Miss Robinson has just come over from France. <i>Man Dieu, quel +pays!</i></p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I hope you had a good crossing, Miss Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, I never mind about the crossing. (<i>Very slowly and +shyly</i>.) Aunt Belinda–(<i>She stops and smiles</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, dear?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I believe tea is almost ready. I want mine, and I'm sure Mr. +Baxter's hungry. (<i>He sniggers approvingly</i>.) Mr. Devenish scorns +food, I expect.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>hurt</i>). Why do you say that?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Aren't you a poet?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, darling, but that doesn't prevent him eating. He'll be +absolutely lyrical over Betty's sandwiches.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You won't deny me that inspiration, I hope, Miss Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>taking</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span> <i>arm and moving with her to below deck-chair</i>). Well, let's go and see what they're like.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>moves up</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span> <i>to below the porch, accompanied by</i> +<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>on her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who follows her on +her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>They all move towards the porch</i>.)</p> + +<p>Mr. Baxter, just a moment.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>apologizing to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and moving in front of the others +to back of deck-chair</i>.) Yes?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>gathers a daffodil from a vase</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and places it in</i> +<span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>buttonhole</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>secretly</i>). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must +be a surprise for her.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Quite so, I understand.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That's right. (<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>rejoins</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>. <i>Raising her +voice</i>.) Oh, Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who is evidently much attracted by</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, +<i>apologizes to her and goes back between tree and hammock to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> +<span class="char">Belinda</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Yes, Mrs. Tremayne?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>secretly</i>). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must +be a surprise for her.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Of course! I shouldn't dream–(<i>Indignantly</i>.) +Robinson! What an unsuitable name!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>are just going into the house</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dismissing</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). All right, I'll catch you up. +(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>goes after the other two</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<i>Left alone</i>, <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>laughs happily to herself, and then +begins to look rather aimlessly about her. She picks up her sunshade +and opens it. She comes to the hammock, picks out her handkerchief, +says, "Ah, there you are!" and puts it away. She goes slowly towards +the house</i>. <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>enters from</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and with his back to +the audience tries latch of imaginary gate below scenic painted +gateway</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>turns her head, hearing imaginary click of the +garden gate</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>She comes slowly back</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>seeing</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>). Have you lost yourself, or something? +No; the latch is this side. ... Yes, that's right.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>comes in. He has been knocking about the world for +eighteen years, and is very much a man, though he has kept his manners. +His hair is greying a little at the sides, and he looks the forty-odd +that he is. Without his moustache and beard he is very different from +the boy</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>married</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> ( <i>with his hat in his hand</i> ). I'm afraid I'm +trespassing.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>winningly, moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little</i> ). But it's +such a pretty garden (<i>turns away, dosing her parasol</i>), isn't it?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>half recognizing her, moves to back of hammock and leans +across to obtain a better view of her</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>rather confused</i>). I-I beg your pardon, I-er— (<i>He +is wondering if it can possibly be she</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>thinks his +confusion is due to the fact that he is trespassing, and hastens to put +him at his ease</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I should have done the same myself, you know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>pulling himself together</i>). Oh, but you mustn't think I +just came in because I liked the garden—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>clapping her hands</i>). No; but say you do like it, quick.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. It's lovely and— (<i>He hesitates</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>hopefully</i>). Yes?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>with conviction</i>). Yes, it's lovely. <span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with +that happy sigh of hers</i>). O-oh! ... Now tell me what really did +happen?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I was on my way to Marytown—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. To where?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Marytown.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, you mean Mariton.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Do I?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes; we always call it Mariton down here. (<i>Earnestly</i>.) +You don't mind, do you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling</i>). Not a bit.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Just say it–to see if you've got it right.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Mariton.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>shaking her head</i>). Oh no, that's quite wrong. Try it +again (<i>With a rustic accent</i>.) Mariton.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Mariton.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, that's much better .... (<i>As if it were he who had +interrupted</i>.) Well, do go on.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I'm afraid it isn't much of an apology really. I saw what +looked like a private road (<i>points</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>), but what I rather hoped +wasn't, and–well, I thought I'd risk it. I do hope you'll forgive me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, but I love people seeing my garden. Are you staying in +Mariton?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I think so. Oh yes, decidedly.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, perhaps the next time the road won't feel so private.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. How charming of you! (<i>He feels he must know. A piano is +heard off playing "Belinda." The tune is continued until the fall of the +curtain</i>.) Are you Mrs. Tremayne by any chance?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>nodding to himself</i>). Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How did <i>you</i> know?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>hastily inventing, moving down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>below the +hammock</i>). They use you as a sign-post in the village. Past Mrs. +Tremayne'a house and then bear to the left—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And you couldn't go past it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I'm afraid I couldn't. Thank you so much for not minding. +(<i>Going up to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of her</i>.) Well, I must be getting on, I +have trespassed quite enough.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>regretfully</i>). And you haven't really seen the garden +yet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. If you won't mind my going on this way, I shall see some more +on my way out.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Please do. It likes being looked at. (<i>With the faintest +suggestion of demureness</i>.) All pretty things do.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Thank you very much. (<i>Turns to go up c</i>.) Er–(<i>He +hesitates</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>helpfully</i>). Yes?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I wonder if you'd mind very much if I called one day to thank +you formally for the lesson you gave me in pronunciation?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gravely</i>). Yes. I almost think you ought to. I think it's +the correct thing to do.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>contentedly</i>). Thank you very much, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You'll come in quite formally (<i>pointing to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>with +her sunshade</i>) by the front-door next time, won't you, because–because that seems the only chance of my getting to know your name.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh, I beg your pardon. My name is–er–er–Robinson.</p> + +<p>(<i>She is highly amused and looks round towards the house, recalling to +her mind</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>laughing</i>). How very odd!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>startled</i>). Odd?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes; we have some one called Robinson (<i>nodding towards the +house</i>) staying in the house. I wonder if she is any relation?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>hastily</i>). Oh no, no. No, she couldn't be. I have no +relations called Robinson–not to speak of.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You must tell me all about your relations when you come and +call, Mr. Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I think we can find something better worth talking about than +that.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Do you think so? (<i>He says "Yes" with his eyes, bows, and +moves up</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>The piano is now forte. <span class="char">Belinda</span> accompanies him up a +little, then stops. He turns in entrance up <span class="stage">C.</span>, and they exchange +glances</i>. <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>exits to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>behind yew hedge. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +stays looking after him, then moves down to back of table and picking up +the book of poems, gives that happy sigh of hers, only even more +so</i>.) O-oh!</p> + +<p>(<i>Enter</i> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>from porch</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. If you please, ma'am, Miss Delia says, are you coming in to tea?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking straight in front of her, and taking no notice +of</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>, <i>in a happy, dreamy voice</i>). Betty, ... about +callers .... If Mr. Robinson calls–he's the handsome gentleman who +hasn't been here before (<i>puts book down</i>)–you will say, "Not at +home." And he will say, "Oh!" And you will say, "I beg your pardon, +sir, was it Mr. Robinson?" And he will say, "Yes!" And you will say, +"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir–" (<i>Almost as if she were <span class="char">Betty</span>, she +begins to move towards the house</i>.) "This way–" (<i>she would be +smiling an invitation over her shoulder to</i> <span class="char">Mr. Robinson</span>, <i>if he +were there, and she were</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>)–"please!" (<i>And the abandoned +woman goes in to tea</i>.)</p> + +<p style="text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps">Curtain</p> + + +<h2>Act II</h2> + + +<p><i>It is morning in</i> <span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>hall, a low-roofed, oak-beamed +place, comfortably furnished as a sitting-room. There is an inner and an +outer front-door, both of which are open. Up</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>is a door leading +to a small room where hats and coats are kept. A door on the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>leads towards the living-rooms</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>enters from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>at back, passes the windows of the +inner room and crosses to the porch. He rings the electric bell outside, +then enters through the swing doors</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span> <span class="char">Betty</span> <i>enters</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> +<i>and moves up at back of settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>by the swing +doors. He is carrying a large bunch of violets and adopts a very aesthetic +attitude</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Good morning, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Good morning. I am afraid this is an unceremonious hour for a +call, but my sense of beauty urged me hither in defiance of convention.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>holding up his bouquet to</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>). See, the dew is yet +lingering upon them; how could I let them wait until this afternoon?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Yes, sir; but I think the mistress is out.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. They are not for your mistress; they are for Miss Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. If you will come in, I'll see if I +can find her. (<i>She crosses to the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and goes away to +find</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>dosing the door after her</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>tries a number of poses about the room for himself and hit +bouquet. He crosses below the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>and sits</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of it +and is about to place his elbow on the table when he finds the toy dog +which has been placed there is in his way. He removes it to the centre +of the table and then leans with his elbow on table and finds this pose +unsuitable so he crosses to above the fireplace and leans against the +upper portico, resting on his elbow which slips and nearly prostrates +him. He then crosses up to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the cupboard door at back centre +and leans on his elbow against the wall</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<i>Enter</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>from the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>shutting the door and going to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Oh, good +morning, Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p>[Illustration :]</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>kisses her hand</i>.)</p> + +<p>I'm afraid my–er–aunt is out.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I know, Miss Delia, I know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. She'll be so sorry to have missed you. It is her day for you, +isn't it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Her day for me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes; Mr. Baxter generally comes to-morrow, doesn't he?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>jealously</i>). Miss Delia, if our friendship is to +progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I +take no interest whatever (<i>coming to back of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>) in Mr. +Baxter's movements.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little</i>). Oh, I'm so sorry; I +thought you knew. What lovely flowers! Are they for my aunt?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. To whom does one bring violets? To modest, shrinking, tender +youth.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I don't think we have anybody here like that.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with a bow and holding out the violets to her</i>). Miss +Delia, they are for you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smelling and taking violets</i>). Oh, how nice of you! But I'm +afraid I oughtn't to take them from you under false pretences; I don't +shrink.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. A fanciful way of putting it, perhaps. They are none the less +for you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, it's awfully kind of you. (<i>Puts flowers down. Then she +moves up to the cupboard. He follows on her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and opens the +door</i>.) I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. (<i>Turning to him +in cupboard doorway</i>.) Aunt Belinda does all the romancing in our +family.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Your aunt is a very remarkable woman.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. She is. Don't you dare to say a word against her. (<i>Takes up a +vase from a chair in cupboard and shakes it as if draining it</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. My dear Miss Delia, nothing could be further from my thoughts. +Why, am I not indebted to her for that great happiness which has come to +me in these last few days?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>surprised</i>). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything +about it. (<i>Coming down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table with vase</i>.) But what +about poor Mr. Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>stiffly, crossing over to fireplace, very annoyed</i>). I +must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going up to table behind Chesterfield up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). But I +thought Mr. Baxter and you were such friends.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>takes water carafe from the table and smiles at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>–<i>which he does not see</i>.)</p> + +<p>Do tell me what's happened. (<i>Moving down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, +<i>she sits and arranges the flowers</i>.) I seem to have lost myself.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>coming to the back of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and reclining on +it</i>.) What has happened, Miss Delia, is that I have learnt at last +the secret that my heart has been striving to tell me for weeks past. As +soon as I saw that gracious lady, your aunt, I knew that I was in love. +Foolishly I took it for granted that it was she for whom my heart was +thrilling. How mistaken I was! Directly you came, you opened my eyes, +and now—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Mr. Devenish, you don't say you're proposing to me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I am. I feel sure I am. (<i>Leaning towards her</i>.) Delia, I +love you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How exciting of you!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with a modest shrug</i>). It's nothing; I am a poet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You really want to marry me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Such is my earnest wish.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But what about my aunt?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>simply</i>). She will be my aunt-in-law.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. She'll be rather surprised.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Delia, I will be frank with you. (<i>Sits</i>.) I admit that I +made Mrs. Tremayne an offer of marriage.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). You really did? Was it that first afternoon I +came?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, I wish I'd been there!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with dignity, rising and moving to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of table</i>). +It is not my custom to propose in the presence of a third party. It is +true that on the occasion you mention a man called Baxter was on the +lawn, but I regarded him no more than the old apple-tree or the flower-beds, or any other of the fixtures.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What did she say?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. She accepted me conditionally.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, do tell me!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is rather an unhappy story. This man called Baxter in his +vulgar way also made a proposal of marriage. Mrs. Tremayne was gracious +enough to imply that she would marry whichever one of us fulfilled a +certain condition.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How sweet of her!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is my earnest hope, Miss Delia, that the man called Baxter +will be the victor. As far as is consistent with honour, I shall +endeavour to let Mr. Baxter (<i>banging the table with his hand</i>) +win.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What was the condition?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. That I am not at liberty to tell.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. It is, I understand, to be a surprise for you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How exciting! (<i>Rising and taking vase of violets which she +places up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>) Mr. Devenish, you have been very frank (<i>coming to +front of settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and sitting</i>). May I be equally so?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>crosses to her and bows in acquiescence</i>.) Why do you +wear your hair so long?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pleased</i>). You have noticed it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, yes, I have.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I wear it so to express my contempt for the conventions of +so-called society. <span class="char">Delia</span>. I always thought that people wore it very +very short if they despised the conventions of society.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I think that the mere fact that my hair annoys Mr. Baxter is +sufficient justification for its length.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But if it annoys me too?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>heroically</i>). It shall go. (<i>Sits on settee above</i> +<span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>enters from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>with a garden basket supposed to +contain cutlets. She crosses the windows at back</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). I told you I wasn't a very romantic +person, didn't I? (<i>Kindly</i>.) You can always grow it again if you +fall in love with somebody else.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. That is cruel of you, Delia. I shall never fall in love again.</p> + +<p>(<i>Enter</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>through swing doors</i> <span class="stage">B.C.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Why, it's Mr. Devenish!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>rises and kisses her hand somewhat sheepishly</i>.)</p> + +<p>How nice of you to come so early in the morning! How is Mr. Baxter!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>annoyed and crossing behind</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>to her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). +I do not know, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and sitting in the place vacated +by <span class="char">Devenish</span></i>). I got most of the things, Delia. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.) +"The things," Mr. Devenish, is my rather stuffy way of referring to all +the delightful poems that you are going to eat to-night.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I am looking forward to it immensely, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I do hope I've got all your and Mr. Baxter's favourite dishes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>annoyed and, moving to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>foot of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). I'm +afraid Mr. Baxter and I are not likely to appreciate the same things.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coyly</i>). Oh, Mr. Devenish! And you were so unanimous a +few days ago.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I think Mr. Devenish. was referring entirely to things to eat.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I felt quite sad when I was buying the lamb cutlets. To think +that, only a few days before, they had been frisking about with their +mammas, and having poems written about them by Mr. Devenish. There! I'm +giving away the whole dinner. Delia, take him away before I tell him +any more.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>rises, goes to table and picks up water carafe which she +replaces on refectory table up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p> + +<p>We must keep some surprises for him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>as she crosses back to table</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and +picks up the flowers</i>). Come along, Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>wickedly</i>). Are those my flowers, Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>advancing to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and laughing awkwardly, after a +little hesitation, with a bow which might refer to either of them</i>). +They are for the most beautiful lady in the land.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, how nice of you!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>crosses to door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and opens it for</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, +<i>who follows him and exits</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>standing above door, +catches <span class="char">Belinda's</span> eye and with an awkward laugh follows</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I suppose he means Delia–bless them! (<i>She kisses her hand +towards the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>She then rises and crosses below the +table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, <i>placing her basket on the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>end of it, to the +fireplace. She rings the bell. Then she moves up on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side +of the Chesterfield to the refectory table and takes off her hat. She +takes up a mirror from the table and gives a few pats to her hair, and +as she is doing so <span class="char">Betty</span> enters from door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and crosses the room +towards</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pointing to basket on the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>). Oh, Betty—</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>moves to back of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and takes up the basket. +Crosses above settee and exits through door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>is moving +towards the swing doors when she catches sight of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>entering +from the garden up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>She moves quickly to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table, +takes up a book and going to Chesterfield</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>, <i>lies down with her +head to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>looks in through the window up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>then crosses +round and enters through the portico and the swing doors</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>pretends to be very busy reading</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rather nervously, in front of wring doors</i>). Er–may I +come in, Mrs. Tremayne?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her book and turning round with a violent +start</i>). Oh, Mr. Baxter, how you surprised me! (<i>She puts her hand +to her heart and sits up and faces him</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I must apologize for intruding upon you at this hour, Mrs. +Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>holding up her hand</i>). Stop!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>startled</i>). What?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I cannot let you come in like that.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>looking down at himself</i>). Like what?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her eyes</i>). You called me Belinda once.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>coming down to her</i>). May I explain my position, Mrs. +Tremayne?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Before you begin–have you been seeing my niece lately?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>surprised</i>). No.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh! (<i>Sweetly</i>.) Please go on.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Why, is <i>she</i> lost too?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh no; I just— Do sit down.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>moves to the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and sits</i>. +<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>rises when he has sat down</i>.)</p> + +<p>Let me put your hat down somewhere for you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>keeping it firmly in his hand</i>). It will be all right +here, thank you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>returning to the Chesterfield and sitting</i>). I'm dying to +hear what you are going to say.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. First as regards the use of your Christian name. I felt that, as +a man of honour, I could not permit myself to use it until I had +established my right over that of Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. All my friends call me Belinda.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. As between myself and Mr. Devenish the case is somewhat +different. Until one of us is successful over the other in the quest +upon which you have sent us, I feel that as far as possible we should +hold aloof from you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pleadingly</i>). Just say "Belinda" once more, in case +you're a long time.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>very formally</i>). Belinda.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How nicely you say it–Harold.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>getting out of his seat</i>). Mrs. Tremayne, I must not +listen to this.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>meekly</i>). I won't offend again, Mr. Baxter. Please go on. +(<i>She motions him to sit–he does so</i>.) Tell me about the quest; +are you winning?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I am progressing, Mrs. Tremayne. Indeed, I came here this +morning to acquaint you with the results of my investigations. +(<i>Clears his throat</i>.) Yesterday I located a man called Robinson +working upon a farm close by. I ventured to ask him if he had any marks +upon him by which he could be recognized. He adopted a threatening +attitude, and replied that if I wanted any he could give me some. With +the aid of half-a-crown I managed to placate him. Putting my inquiry in +another form, I asked if he had any moles. A regrettable +misunderstanding, which led to a fruitless journey to another part of +the village, was eventually cleared up, and on my return I satisfied +myself that this man was in no way related to your niece.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>admiringly</i>). How splendid of you!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, now, we know <i>he's</i> not. (<i>She holds up one +finger</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes. In the afternoon I located another Mr. Robinson following +the profession of a carrier. My first inquiries led to a similar result, +with the exception that in this case Mr. Robinson carried his +threatening attitude so far as to take off his coat and roll up his +sleeves. Perceiving at once that he was not the man, I withdrew.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. How brave you are!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. That makes two.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yea.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>holding up another finger</i>). It still leaves a good many. +(<i>Pleadingly</i>.) Just call me Belinda again.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising and backing to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little, nervously</i>). You +mustn't tempt me, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>penitently</i>). I won't!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>going slowly to fireplace and placing his hat down on +urmchair below fireplace</i>). To resume, then, my narrative. This +morning I have heard of a third Mr. Robinson. Whether there is actually +any particular fortune attached to the number three I cannot say for +certain. It is doubtful whether statistics would be found to support the +popular belief. But one likes to flatter oneself that in one's own case +it may be true; and so—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And so the third Mr. Robinson–?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Something for which I cannot altogether account inspires me with +hope. He is, I have discovered, staying at Mariton. This afternoon I go +to look for him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself</i>). Mariton! How funny! I wonder if it's the +same one.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. What one?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, just one of the ones. (<i>Gratefully</i>.) Mr. Baxter, you +are doing all this for <i>me</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Pray do not mention it. I don't know if it's Devonshire +(<i>going to and sitting</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>), or the time of the +year, or the sort of atmosphere you create, Mrs. Tremayne, but I feel an +entirely different man. There is something in the air which–yes, I +shall certainly go over to Mariton this afternoon.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gravely</i>). I have had the same feeling sometimes, Mr. +Baxter. I am not always the staid respectable matron which I appear to +you to be. Sometimes I–(<i>She looks absently at the watch on her +wrist</i>.) Good gracious!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>alarmed</i>). What is it!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking anxiously from the door to him</i>). Mr. Baxter, I'm +going to throw myself on your mercy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. My dear Mrs. Tremayne—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking at her watch again, rising and moving up</i> <span class="stage">L.C.</span>, +<i>looking at door</i>). A strange man will be here directly. He must not +find you with me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising, jealously</i>). A man?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Yes, yes, a man! He is pursuing me with his +attentions. If he found you here, there would be a terrible scene.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I will defend you from him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>crossing down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of Chesterfield</i>). No, no. He +is a big man. He will–he will overpower you. (<i>Moving</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>a +little and looking out of windows</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But you–!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I can defend myself. I will send him away. But he must not find +you here. You must hide before he overpowers you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with dignity, crossing below table to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). I will +withdraw if you wish it. <span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>following to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>at back of +table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). No, not withdraw, hide. He might see you withdrawing. +(<i>Leading the way to the cupboard door</i>.) Quick, in here.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>embarrassed at the thought that this sort of thing really +only happens in a bedroom farce and moving towards her</i>). I don't +think I quite—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reassuring him</i>). It's perfectly respectable; it's where +we keep the umbrellas. (<i>She takes him by the hand</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>resisting and looking nervously into the cupboard</i>). I'm +not at all sure that I—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>earnestly</i>). Oh, but don't you see what <i>trust</i> I'm +putting in you? (<i>To herself</i>.) Some people are so nervous about +their umbrellas.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Well, of course, if you–but I don't see why I shouldn't just +slip out of the door before he comes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Of course, if you grudge me every little +pleasure–(<i>Crossing in front of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>towards swing doors +and seeing</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>coming</i>.) Quick! Here he is.</p> + +<p>(<i>She bundles him through the cupboard door and closes it and with a +sign of happiness crosses down to</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table. She sees</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span> +<i>bowler hat on the arm-chair below the fireplace. She fetches and +carries it over to the cupboard door, knocks and hands it to him, +saying</i>, "Your hat!")</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>expostulating and nearly knocking her over as he comes +out</i>). Well, really I—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>bundling him into the cupboard and closing the door</i>). +Hush!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>straightens her hair, takes up her book from</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table and sits, stroking the head of the toy dog and +pretending to read</i>. <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>enters from garden up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and +through the swing doors up</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives an assumed cry of +surprise</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>at the swing doors</i>). It's no good your pretending to be +surprised, because you said I could come. (<i>Coming down to the back of +the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>and putting down his hat</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rising, shaking hands and welcoming him</i>). But I can +still be surprised that you wanted to come.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> Oh no, you aren't.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>markng it off on her fingers</i>). Just a little bit–that +much.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. It would be much more surprising if I hadn't come.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>crossing to the Chesterfield, picking up her book and +handing it to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>who puts it on the table</i>). It is a +pretty garden, isn't it? (<i>She sits on</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of Chesterfield</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>coming to her</i>). You forget that I saw the garden +yesterday.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, but the things have grown so much since then. Let me see, +this is the third day you've been and we only met three days ago. (<i>He +moves behind the Chesterfield to the left end of it</i>.) And then +you're coming to dinner again to-night.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>eagerly and leaning over the Chesterfield</i>). Am I?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes. Haven't you been asked?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>going round the left end of the Chesterfield</i>). No, not +a word.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, that's quite right; I remember now, I only thought of it +this morning, so I couldn't ask you before, could I?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>earnestly</i>). What made you think of it then?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>romantically</i>). It was at the butcher's.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Eh?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. There was one little lamb cutlet left over and sitting out all +by itself, and there was nobody to love it. And I said to myself, +suddenly, "I know, that will do for Mr. Robinson." (<i>Protaically</i>.) +I do hope you like lamb?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>sitting on her left side</i>). I adore it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I'm so glad I When I saw it sitting there I thought you'd +love it. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more about the rest of the +dinner, because I wouldn't tell Mr. Devenish, and I want to be fair.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>jealously</i>). Who's Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> Is he in love with you too?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Too? Oh, you mean Mr. Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>rising and moving to fireplace</i>). Confound it, that's +three!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>innocently</i>). Three? (<i>She looks up at him and down +again</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Who is Mr. Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>turning away and looking into fireplace</i>). Who is Mr. +Baxter?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>appears at cupboard doorway</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>hears him and +gives a startled look round. She signs to him to go back. <span class="char">Baxter</span> +retreats immediately and closes door</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, he's a sort of statistician. Isn't that a horrid word to +say? So stishany.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What does he make statistics about?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh (<i>giving a sly look round at cupboard door</i>), umbrellas +and things. Don't let's talk about him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. All right, then; (<i>going up to her jealously</i>) who is Mr. +Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, he's a poet. (<i>She throws up her eyes and sighs +deeply</i>.) Ah me!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What does he write poetry about?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>looks at him, and down again, and then at him again, and +then down, then raises and drops her arms, and gives a little sigh–all +of which means, "Can't you guess?"</i>)</p> + +<p>What does he write poetry about?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>obediently</i>). He wrote "The Lute of Love and other Poems, +by Claude Devenish."</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>is annoyed and turns away to the fireplace</i>.)</p> + +<p>The Lute of Love–(<i>To herself</i>.) I haven't been saying that +lately. (<i>With great expression</i>.) The Lute of Love–the Lute. +(<i>She pats her mouth back</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. And who is Mr. Devenish–!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>putting her hand on his sleeve</i>). You'll let me know when +it's my turn, won't you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Your turn?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, to ask questions. I love this game–it's just like clumps. +(<i>She crosses her hands on her lap and waits for the next +question</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I beg your pardon. I–er–of course have no right to cross-examine you like this.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, do go on, I love it. (<i>With childish excitement</i>.) +I've got my question ready.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling and going and sitting beside her again</i>). I +think perhaps it <i>is</i> your turn.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>eagerly</i>). Is it really? (<i>He nods</i>.) Well then–(<i>in a loud voice</i>)–who is Mr. Robinson?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>alarmed</i>). What?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I think it's a fair question. I met you three days ago and you +told me you were staying at Mariton. Mariton. You can say it all right +now, can't you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I think so.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coaxingly</i>). Just say it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Mariton.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>clapping her hands</i>). Lovely! I don't think any of the +villagers do it as well as that.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking very hard at <span class="char">Tremayne</span>–he wonders whether she has +discovered his identity</i>). Well, that was three days ago. You came +the next day to see the garden, and you came the day after to see the +garden, and you've come this morning–to see the garden; and you're +coming to dinner to-night, and it's so lovely, we shall simply have to +go into the garden afterwards. And all I know about you is that you +haven't any relations called Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What do I know about Mrs. Tremayne but that she has a relation +called Robinson?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And two dear friends called Devenish and Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>rising–annoyed</i>). I was forgetting them. (<i>Crosses to +below</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>end of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself, with a sly look round at the cupboard</i>), I +mustn't forget Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. But what does it matter? What would it matter if I knew +nothing about you? (<i>Moving up to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of Chesterfield and +leaning over it</i>.) I know everything about you–everything that +matters.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>leaning back and closing her eyes contentedly</i>). Tell me +some of them. <span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>bending over her earnestly</i>). Belinda—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>still with her eyes shut</i>). He's going to propose to me. +I can feel it coming.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>starting back</i>). Confound it! how many men <i>have</i> +proposed to you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>surprised</i>). Since when?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Since your first husband proposed to you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I thought you meant this year. (<i>Sitting up</i>.) Well +now, let me see. (<i>Slowly and thoughtfully</i>.) One. (<i>She pushes +up her first finger</i>.) Two. (<i>She pushes up the second</i>.) Three. +(<i>She pushes up the third finger, holds it there for a moment and then +pushes it gently down again</i>.) No, I don't think that one ought to +count really. (<i>She pushes up two more fingers and the thumb</i>.) Three, +four, five–do you want the names or just the total?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>moving up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and then over</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). This is horrible.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>innocently</i>). But anybody can propose. Now if you'd asked +how many I'd accepted—</p> + +<p>(<i>He turns sharply to her–annoyed</i>.)</p> + +<p>Let me see, where was I up to?</p> + +<p>(<i>He moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p>I shan't count yours, because I haven't really had it yet.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>enters down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and stands behind settee</i>.)</p> + +<p>Six, seven–Yes, Betty, what is it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Betty</span>. If you please, ma'am, cook would like to speak to you for a +minute.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>goes up</i> <span class="stage">R.C.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>getting up</i>). Yes, I'll come.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>goes out, leaving the door open</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>crosses Before +the table</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<i>To</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) You'll forgive me, won't you? You'll find some +cigarettes there. (<i>Points to table up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>moves by the +back of the settee and holds the door for</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>. <i>She turns to him in +the doorway</i>.) It's probably about the lamb cutlets; I expect your +little one refuses to be cooked.</p> + +<p>(<i>She goes out after</i> <span class="char">Betty</span>.)</p> + +<p>(<i>Left alone</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>stalks moodily about the room, crossing +it and kicking things which come in his way. Violently, he kicks a +hassock which is above the table</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to under the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, +<i>then he takes up his hat and moves towards the swing doors and half +opens them. He pauses and considers–then he comes down to the centre +table, throws down his hat, moves round the left end of the table, finds +the dog in the way and then sits on the table with his hands in his +pockets, facing the audience. As he has been moving about the room, he +has muttered the names of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>entering from the door</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>which he closes and goes +to foot of the settee <span class="stage">R.</span>–surprised</i>). Hullo!</p> + +<p>(<i>A pause</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>jealously, and rising</i>). Are you Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Devenish the poet?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>coming up and shaking him warmly by the hand</i>). My dear +fellow, you know my work?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>grimly</i>). My dear Mr. Devenish, your name is most +familiar to me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I congratulate you. I thought your great-grand-children would +be the first to hear of me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>moving to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). My name's Robinson, by the way.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>connecting him with</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). Then let me return the +compliment, Robinson. Your name is familiar to me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>hastily, and going towards</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). I don't think I'm +related to any Robinsons you know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>dubiously</i>). Well, no, I suppose not. When I was very +much younger I began a collection of Robinsons. Actually it was only +three days ago, but it seems much longer. (<i>Thinking of</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) +Many things have happened since then.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>uninterested, moving</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) Really!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. There is a man called Baxter–(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>displays his +jealousy of</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>.) who is still collecting, I believe. For myself, +I am only interested in one of the great family–Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>eagerly, and going quickly to him and placing his hand on +<span class="char">Devenish's</span> left shoulder</i>). You are interested in <i>her</i>?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Devotedly. In fact, I am at this moment waiting for her to put +on her hat.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>warmly, banging him on the shoulder with both hands</i>). +My dear Devenish, I am delighted to make your acquaintance. (<i>He +seizes his hand and grips it heartily</i>.) How are you? +(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>backs to the settee in pain</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>sitting on settee, feeling his fingers</i>). Fairly well, +thanks.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>sitting above him and banging him on the back</i>). That's +right.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>still nursing his hand</i>). You are a very lucky fellow, +Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. In what way?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. People you meet must be so very reluctant to say good-bye to +you. Have you ever tried strangling lions or anything like that?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>with a laugh</i>). Well, as a matter of fact, I have.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I suppose you won all right?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. In the end, with the help of my beater.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Personally I should have backed you alone against any two +ordinary lions.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. One was quite enough. As it was, he gave me something to +remember him by. (<i>Putting up his left sleeve, he displays a deep +scar</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>looking at it casually</i>). By Jove, that's a nasty one! +(<i>He suddenly catches sight of the mole and stares at it fascinated, +then stares up at</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) Good heavens!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What's the matter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>clasping his head</i>). Wait. (<i>Rising and moving up to</i> +<span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) Let me think. (<i>After a pause</i>.) Have you +ever met a man called Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. No.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Would you like to?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>grimly</i>). Very much indeed.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. He's the man I told you about who's interested in Robinsons. +He'll be delighted to meet you. (<i>With a nervous laugh</i>.) Funny +thing, he's rather an authority on lions. You must show him that scar +of yours; it will intrigue him immensely. (<i>Earnestly</i>.) +<i>Don't</i> shake hands with him too heartily just at first; it might +put him off the whole thing.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. This Mr. Baxter seems to be a curious man.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>absently</i>). Yes, he is rather odd. (<i>Looking at his +watch</i>.) I wonder if I–(<i>To</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) I suppose you won't +be— (<i>He stops suddenly. A slight tapping noise comes from the room +where they keep umbrellas</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What's that!</p> + +<p>(<i>The tapping noise is repeated, a little more loudly this time. +<span class="char">Devenish</span> moves to end of table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Come in.</p> + +<p>(<i>The door opens and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>comes in nervously, holding his +bowler hat in his hand. He moves towards the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). Oh, I just–(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>stands up</i>) +–I just–(<i>He goes back again</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>springing across the room</i>). Baxter!</p> + +<p>(<i>The door opens nervously again and <span class="char">Baxter's</span> head appears round it</i>.)</p> + +<p>Come in, Baxter, old man; you're just the very person I wanted.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>comes in carefully</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>closes the door</i>.)</p> + +<p>Good man. (<i>To</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>taking</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, +<i>and placing his arm round his shoulders</i>.) This is Mr. Baxter that +I was telling you about.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>removes</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>arm from his shoulders</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>moving up to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>and much relieved at the +appearance of his rival</i>). Oh, is this Mr. Baxter? (<i>Holding out +his hand with great friendliness</i>.) How are you, Mr. Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>warningly</i>). Steady!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>shakes</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>quite gently by the hand</i>.)</p> + +<p>Baxter, this is Mr. Robinson. (<i>Casually</i>.) R-o-b-i-n-s-o-n. (<i>He +looks sideways at</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>to see how he takes it</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is +noticeably impressed</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Really? I am very glad to meet you, sir.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Very good of you to say so.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>taking his arm</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is annoyed +and gets free</i>). Robinson is a great big-game hunter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving down to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>). Indeed? I have never done +anything in that way myself, but I'm sure it must be an absorbing +pursuit.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh, well, it's something to do.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). You must get him to tell you about a +wrestle he had with a lion once. Extraordinary story! (<i>Looking at his +watch suddenly</i>.) Jove! I must be off. See you again, Baxter. (<i>He +bangs</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>on the shoulder and moves down to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.) +Good-bye, Robinson. No, don't shake hands. I'm in a hurry. (<i>He looks +at his watch again and goes out hurriedly by the door on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>sits on settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>on chair</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> +<i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table. He puts his hat on the table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Unusual man, your friend Devenish. I suppose it comes of being +a poet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I have no great liking for Mr. Devenish—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh, he's all right.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But I am sure that if he is impressed by anything outside +himself or his own works, it must be something rather remarkable. Pray +tell me of your adventure with the lion.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>laughing</i>). Really, you mustn't think that I go about +telling everybody my adventures. It just happened to come up. I'm afraid +I shook his hand rather more warmly than I meant, and he asked me if I'd +ever tried strangling lions. That was all.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. And had you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, it just happened that I had.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Indeed! You came off scatheless, I trust?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>carelessly indicating his arm</i>). Well, he got me one +across there.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>rising and coming to above</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>obviously +excited</i>). Really, really. (<i>Points to his arm</i>.) One across +there. Not bad, I hope?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>laughing</i>). Well, it doesn't show unless I do that. +(<i>He pulls up his sleeve carelessly and</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>bends eagerly +over his arm and sees the mole and very slowly looks up at</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, +<i>then down at the arm again, then up at</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Good heavens! I've found it! (<i>He runs over to the table and +picks up his hat</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Found what? (<i>He pulls down his sleeve</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>going up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). I must see Mrs. Tremayne. Where's Mrs. +Tremayne?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. She went out just now. What's the matter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Out! I must find her. This is a matter of life and death. (<i>He +hurries through the swing doors</i>.) Mrs. Tremayne! Mrs. Tremayne! +(<i>He exits</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>through the garden</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>rises and moves to the swing doors, stares after him in +amazement. Then he pulls up his sleeve, looks at his scar again and +shakes his head. While he is still puzzling over it</i>, <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>comes back</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>crossing below settee</i>). Such a to-do in the kitchen! The +cook's given notice–at least she will directly–(<i>up to</i> +<span class="char">Tremayne</span>)–and your lamb cutlet slipped back to the shop when nobody was +looking</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>looks off at swing doors</i>)</p> + +<p>and I've got to go into the village again, (<i>going to the refectory +table and getting her hat</i>) and ok dear, oh dear, I have such a lot +of things to do! (<i>Looking across at</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter's</span> <i>door</i>.) Oh yes, +that's another one. (<i>Coming back to table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>and putting down +her hat on <span class="stage">R.</span> side</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda— (<i>Moving up to her</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No, not even Belinda. Wait till this evening.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I have a thousand things to say to you; I shall say them this +evening.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>giving him her hand</i>). Begin about eight o'clock. Good-bye +till then.</p> + +<p>(<i>He takes her hand, looks at her for a moment, then suddenly bends +and kisses it, takes up his hat and hurries through the swing doors and +off through the garden to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>stands looking from her hand to him, gives a little +wondering exclamation and then presses the back of her hand against her +cheek, and goes to the swing doors. She turns back, and remembers</i> <span class="char">Mr. +Baxter</span> <i>again. With a smile she goes to the door and taps gently</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mr. Baxter, Mr. Baxter, you may come in now; he has withdrawn. +(<i>Moves down a little and then back to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the door again</i>.) +Mr. Baxter, I have unhanded him. (<i>She opens the door and going in, +finds the room empty</i>.) Oh!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>comes quickly through the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>meeting</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>coming out of the cupboard</i>). Ah, +(<i>they both start</i>) there you are! (<i>Crossing down to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of</i> +<span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table, he puts down his hat</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>turning with a start</i>). Oh, how you frightened me, Mr. +Baxter! I couldn't think what had happened to you. (<i>She closes the +door</i>.) I thought perhaps you'd been eaten up by one of the +umbrellas.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Mrs. Tremayne, I have some wonderful news for you. I have found +Miss Robinson's father.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>on his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>, <i>hardly understanding</i>). Miss Bobinson's +father?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes. <i>Mr</i>. Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, you mean–(<i>Points to direction when <span class="char">Tremayne</span> has +gone</i>.) Oh yes, he told me his name was Robinson–Oh, but he's no +relation.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Wait! I saw his arm. By a subterfuge I managed to see his arm.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>her eyes opening more and more widely as she begins to +realize</i>). You saw—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I saw the mole.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down to him faintly as she holds out her own +arm</i>). Show me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>very decorously indicating</i>). There!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>holds the place with her other hand, and stitt looking +at</i> <span class="char">Mr. Baxter</span>, <i>slowly begins to laugh–half-laughter, half-tears, +wonderingly, happily, contentedly</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table and sitting</i>). And I didn't +know!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving to back of table</i>). Mrs. Tremayne, I am delighted +to have done this service for your niece—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself</i>). Of course, <i>he</i> knew all the time.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>to the world</i>). Still more am I delighted to have gained +the victory over Mr. Devenish in this enterprise.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Eighteen years–but I <i>ought</i> to have known.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>at large</i>). I shall not be accused of exaggerating when I +say that the odds against such an enterprise were enormous.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Eighteen years— And now I've eight whole <i>hours</i> to +wait!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>triumphantly</i>). It will be announced to-night. "Mr. +Devenish," I shall say, "young fellow–" (<i>He arranges his speech in +his mind</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>nodding to herself mischievously</i>). So I was right, after +all! (<i>Slowly and triumphantly</i>.) He <i>does</i> look better without +a beard!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>with his hand on the back of the chair on the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>side +of the table</i>). "Mr. Devenish, young fellow, when you matched yourself +against a man of my repute, when you matched yourself against a man–matched yourself against a man of my repute (<i>crossing towards +fireplace</i>)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>rises stealthily, takes up her hat and exits through the +swing doors and through the garden up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p>when you matched yourself against a man who has read papers (<i>moving +towards centre table</i>) at Soirees of the Royal Statistical Society–" +(<i>Looking round the room, he discovers that he is alone. He picks up +his hat from the table and jams it down on his head</i>.) Unusual!</p> + +<p>(<i>He moves up towards the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p style="text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps">Curtain.</p> + + +<h2>Act III</h2> + + +<p><i>It is after dinner in <span class="char">Belinda's</span> hall. The log fire, chandelier and +wall brackets are all alight</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>is lying on the Chesterfield +with a coffee-cup in her hand</i>. <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>in the chair down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>below +the fireplace, has picked up "The Lute of Love" from a table and is +reading it impatiently. She also has a coffee-cup in her hand</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>throwing the book away</i>). What rubbish he writes!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming back from her thoughts</i>). Who, dear?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Claude</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives her a quick look of surprise</i>.)</p> + +<p>–Mr. Devenish. (<i>She rises and stands by the fireplace with her cup +in her hand</i>.) Of course, he's very young.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. So was Keats, darling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I don't think Claude has had Keats' advantages. Keats started +life as an apothecary.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. So much nicer than a chemist.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Now, Claude started with nothing to do.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>mildly</i>). Do you always call him Claude, darling? I hope +you aren't going to grow into a flirt like that horrid Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Silly mother! (<i>She moves to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>takes her cup, +then crosses to the table and places both the cups on the table–seriously</i>.) I don't think he'll ever be any good till he really gets +work. Did you notice his hair this evening?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dreamily</i>). Whose, dear?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going to the back of the Chesterfield and to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> +<span class="char">Belinda</span>). Mummy, look me in the eye and tell me you are not being bad.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>having playfully turned her head away and hidden her face +with her handkerchief, says innocently</i>). Bad, darling?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>moving down to the front of the fireplace</i>). You've made +Mr. Robinson fall in love with you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>happily</i>). Have I?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes; it's serious this time. He's not like the other two.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. However did you know that?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, I know.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Darling, I believe you've grown up. It's quite time I settled +down.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. With Mr. Robinson?</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>sits up and looks thoughtfully at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>for a little +time</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>mysteriously</i>). Delia, are you prepared for a great +secret to be revealed to you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>childishly and jumping on to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>arm of the +Chesterfield facing</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Oh, I love secrets.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). Darling, you mustn't take it like that. +This is a great, deep, dark secret; you'll probably need your sal +volatile.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>excitedly</i>). Go on!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well— (<i>Looking round the room</i>.) Shall we have the +lights down a little?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Go on, mummy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, Mr. Robinson is–(<i>impressively</i>)–is not quite the +Robinson he appears to be.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Yes?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. In fact, child, he is— Darling, hadn't you better come and +hold your mother's hand?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>struggling with some emotion and placing her hand on</i> +<span class="char">Belinda's</span> <i>arm, who playfully smacks it</i>). Go on.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, Mr. Robinson is a–sort of relation of yours; in fact–(<i>playing with her rings and looking down coyly</i>)–he is your–father. (<i>She looks up at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>to see how the news is being +received</i>.) (<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>gives a happy laugh</i>.)</p> + +<p>Dear one, this is not a matter for mirth.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Darling, it is lovely, isn't it? (<i>Sliding down to the seat of +the Chesterfield next to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>who moves along to make room +for her</i>.) I am laughing because I am so happy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Aren't you surprised?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. No. You see, Claude told me this morning. (<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>displays +annoyance</i>.) He found out just before Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well! Every one seems to have known except me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Didn't you see how friendly father and I got at dinner? I thought +I'd better start breaking the ice–because I suppose he'll be kissing me +directly.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Say you like him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. I think he's going to be awfully nice. (<i>She kisses</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>and rises</i>.) Does he <i>know</i> you know?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Not yet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh! (<i>She moves to the fireplace and warms her hands</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Just at present I've rather got Mr. Baxter on my mind. I +suppose, darling, you wouldn't like him as well as Mr. Devenish! +(<i>Pathetically</i>.) You see, they're so used to going about together.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Claude is quite enough.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I think I must see Mr. Baxter and get it over. Do you mind if I +have Mr. Devenish too? I feel more at home with both of them. I'll give +you him back. Oh dear, I feel so happy to-night! (<i>She jumps up and +goes to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.) And is my little girl going to be happy too? That's +what mothers always say on the stage. I think it's so sweet.</p> + +<p>(<i>They move together to below table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling at her</i>). Yes, I think so, mummy. Of course, I'm +not romantic like you. I expect I'm more like father, really.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dreamily</i>). Jack can be romantic now. He was telling me +this morning all about the people he has proposed to. I mean, I was +telling him. Anyhow, he wasn't a bit like a father. Of course, he +doesn't know he is a father yet. Darling, I think you might take him +into the garden; only don't let him know who he is. You see, he ought to +propose to me first, oughtn't he?</p> + +<p>(<i>The men come in from</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>goes to the foot of the +settee <span class="stage">R.</span>, <span class="char">Devenish</span> to the back of the table up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>while</i> +<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>stands at the back of the settee</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>moves to the +front of the settee and <span class="char">Delia</span> sits on the table</i>.)</p> + +<p>Here you all are! I do hope you haven't been throwing away your cigars, +because smoking is allowed all over the house.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>as he comes to the foot of the settee</i>). Oh, we've +finished, thank you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>going up to the swing doors and opening them</i>). Isn't it +a wonderful night?–and so warm for April. Delia, you must show Mr. +Robinson the garden by moonlight–it's the only light he hasn't seen it +by.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>quickly coming to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>back of table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). I don't +think I've ever seen it by moonlight, Miss Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>coming down a little</i>). I thought poets were always +seeing things by moonlight.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving toward</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). I was hoping, Mrs. Tremayne, +that–er–perhaps—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>moving quickly to above</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>and taking his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>hand, and pulling him up stage to swing doors</i>). Come along, Mr. +Robinson.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>looks at</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>who gives him a nod</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>then moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>). It's very kind of you, Miss Robinson. I +suppose there is no chance of a nightingale?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. There ought to be. I ordered one specially for Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>go out together</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span>, <i>with a +sigh, moves over to the Chesterfield and settles herself comfortably +into it</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>annoyed by</i> <span class="char">Tremayne's</span> <i>attentions to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, +<i>crosses up angrily and looks off through the window up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>above +fireplace, then comes down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the Chesterfield to the front +of the fireplace</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>moves up to the swing doors angrily watching</i> +<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>, <i>then moves to the window</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>and looks off</i>. +<span class="char">Betty</span> <i>then enters with a salver from</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>She moves by the back of +the settee to the back of the table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>, <i>picks up the coffee-cups and +goes out</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>then moves over to the window facing the audience, +up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>He looks off, then comes down to the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>.)</p> + +<p>Now we're together again. Well, Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Er–I—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No; I think I'll let Mr. Baxter speak first. I know he's +longing to.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>leaning on the back of the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of table–he +clears his throat</i>). H'r'm! Mrs. Tremayne, I beg formally to claim +your hand.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sweetly</i>). On what grounds, Mr. Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>spiritedly</i>). Yes, sir, on what grounds?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>coming to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of Chesterfield, close to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). +On the grounds that, as I told you this morning, I had succeeded in the +quest.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>appearing to be greatly surprised</i>). Succeeded?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, Mr. Devenish, young fellow, you have lost. (<i>He moves a +few paces</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to below the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the table</i>.) I have +discovered the missing Mr. Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>wiping hit brow and coming to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>). Who–where—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>dramatically</i>). Miss Robinson has at this moment gone out +with her father.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>placing his hands heavily on</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span> <i>shoulders, who +staggers</i>). Good heavens! It was he!</p> + +<p>(<i><span class="char">Baxter</span> pats</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>sympathetically and moves to the back of +the Chesterfield and is about to speak to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>. <i>She, however, +silences him and he drops down to the front of the fireplace</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sympathetically</i>). Poor Mr. Devenish!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>pointing tragically to the table</i>). And to think that I +actually sat on that table–no, that seat (<i>he points to the +settee</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>then he moves up stage between it and the table</i>)–that I sat there with him this morning, and never guessed! Why, ten +minutes ago I was asking him for the nuts!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Aha, Devenish, you're not so clever as you thought you were.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>coming quickly to the back of the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the +table</i>). Why, I must have given you the clue myself! He told me he +had a scar on his arm, and I never thought any more of it. And then I +went away innocently and left you two talking about it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>alarmed</i>). A scar on his arm?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Where a lion mauled him.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives a little cry and shudder</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. It's quite healed up now, Mrs. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>looking at him admiringly</i>). A lion! What you two have +adventured for my sake!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I suppose you will admit, Devenish, that I may fairly claim to +have won?</p> + +<p>(<i>Looking the picture of despair</i>, <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>drops down</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> +<i>of the chair, droops his head, raises his arms and lets them fall +hopelessly to his sides</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mr. Devenish, I have never admired you so much as I do at this +moment. (<i>She extends her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>hand to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who gropes +for it with his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand and eventually manages to seize it</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>noticing he is holding her hand, moving to them and looking +at them quizzically–indignantly to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). I say, you know, +that's not fair. It's all very well to take your defeat like a man, but +you mustn't overdo it. (<i>They release their hands</i>.) Mrs. Tremayne, +I claim the reward which I have earned.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>after a pause and rising</i>). Mr. Baxter–Mr. Devenish, I +have something to tell you.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves to her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>kneels upon the Chesterfield facing them. Penitently</i>.) I +have not been quite frank with you. I think you both ought to know that–I–I made a mistake. Delia is not my niece; she is my daughter. (<i>She +buries her face in her hands</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Your daughter! I say, how ripping!</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>gives him an understanding look</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Your daughter!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But–but you aren't old enough to have a daughter of that age.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). Well, there she is.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But–but she's grown up.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Quite.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Then in that case you must be–(<i>He hesitates, evidently +working it out</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>hastily</i>). I'm afraid so, Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But this makes a great difference. I had no idea. Why, when I'm +fifty you would be—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sighing</i>). Yes, I suppose I should.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. And when I'm sixty—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>pleadingly to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Can't you stop him?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>with a threatening gesture</i>). Look here, Baxter, another +word from you and you'll never <i>get</i> to sixty.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. And then there's Miss–er–Delia. In the event of our marrying, +Mrs. Tremayne, she, I take it, would be my step-daughter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I don't think she would trouble us much, Mr. Baxter. (<i>With a +sly look at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.) I have an idea that she will be getting +married before long. (<i>She again glances at</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who +returns her look gratefully</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>into the inner room</i>). None the less, +the fact would be disturbing.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>with a wink at</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>crosses in front of her and +warms his hands at the fire</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>watches</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>over +the back of the Chesterfield</i>.)</p> + +<p>I have never yet considered myself seriously as a step-father. +(<i>Moving round the refectory table</i>.) I don't think I am going too +far if I say that to some extent I have been deceived in this matter. +(<i>He comes down to behind the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reproachfully</i>). And so have I. I thought you loved me.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>sympathetically</i>). Yes, yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>turning to him suddenly</i>). And Mr. Devenish too.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Er—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Er—</p> + +<p>(<i>They stand before her guiltily and have nothing to say</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a shrug</i>). Well, I shall have to marry somebody +else, that's all.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving to below table</i>). Who? Who?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I suppose Mr. Robinson. After all, if I am Delia's mother, and +Mr. Baxter says that Mr. Robinson's her father, it's about time we +<i>were</i> married.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>eagerly</i>). Mrs. Tremayne, what fools we are! He +<i>is</i> your husband all the time!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving up to the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). You've had a +husband all the time?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>apologetically</i>). I lost him; it wasn't my fault.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Really, this is very confusing. I don't know where I am. I +gather–I am to gather, it seems, that you are no longer eligible as a +possible wife?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I am afraid not, Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. But this is very confusing–(<i>moving towards the swing +doors</i>)–this is very disturbing to a man of my age. For weeks past I +have been regarding myself as a–a possible benedict. I have–ah–taken +steps. (<i>Back to the</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>end of the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>.) Only this morning, +in writing to my housekeeper, I warned her that she might hear at +any moment a most startling announcement.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>cheerfully</i>). Oh, that's all right. That might only mean +that you were getting a new bowler-hat.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>dropping down</i> <span class="stage">L.C.</span> <i>a few steps–suddenly</i>). Ah, and +what about you, sir? How is it that you take this so lightly? +(<i>Triumphantly</i>.) I have it. It all becomes clear to me. You have +transferred your affections to her daughter!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh, I say, Baxter, this is very crude.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. And why should he not, Mr. Baxter? (<i>Softly</i>.) He has made +me very happy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>staggered</i>). He has made you happy, Mrs. Tremayne!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Very happy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>thoughtfully</i>). Oh! Oh ho! Oh ho! (<i>He takes a turn up +the room into the inner room, muttering to himself</i>. <span class="char">Belinda</span> +<i>kneels and watches him over the back of the Chesterfield. Then he +comes down again to her</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side</i>.) Mrs. Tremayne, I have taken +a great resolve. (<i>Solemnly</i>.) I also will make you happy. +(<i>Thumping his heart</i>.) I also will woo Miss Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Look here, Baxter—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>suddenly crossing and seizing</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>arm and +pulling him towards the siding doors up</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>between the Chesterfield +and the table</i>). Come, we will seek Miss Delia together.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>seizes</i> <span class="char">Devenish's</span> <i>hand as he is passing and he, clinging +to it, nearly pulls her off the Chesterfield. She is very amused</i>.)</p> + +<p>It may be that she will send us upon another quest in which I shall +again be victorious.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>releases her hand and slips down into the Chesterfield. +Tempestuously</i>.)</p> + +<p>Come, I say—</p> + +<p>(<i>He marches the resisting</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>to the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p>Let us put it to the touch, to win or lose it all.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>turning and appealing to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Please!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gently</i>). Mr. Baxter... Harold.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>stops and turns round</i>.)</p> + +<p>You are too impetuous. I think that as Delia's mother—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>coming down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>to the foot of the</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> +<i>table</i>). Your pardon, Mrs. Tremayne. In the intoxication of the +moment I am forgetting. (<i>Formally</i>.) I have the honour to ask your +permission to pay my addresses–(<i>Moves to chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. No, no, I didn't mean that. But, as Delia's mother, I ought to +warn you that she is hardly fitted to take the place of your +housekeeper. She is not very domesticated.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>indignantly</i>). Not domesticated? (<i>Sits</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of +table</i>.) Why, did I not hear her tell her father at dinner that she +had arranged all the flowers?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. There are other things than flowers.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>on</i> <span class="char">Baxter's</span> <span class="stage">R.</span>, <i>behind the table</i>). Bed-socks, +for instance, Baxter.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>is annoyed</i>.)</p> + +<p>It's a very tricky thing airing bed-socks. I am sure your house-keeper—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>silencing</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). Mrs. Tremayne, she will learn. The +daughter of such a mother... I need say no more.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, thank you. But there is something else, Mr. Baxter. You are +not being quite fair to yourself. In starting out upon this simultaneous +wooing, you forget that Mr. Devenish has already had his turn–(<span class="char">Devenish</span> +<i>tries to stop her</i>. <span class="char">Baxter</span> <i>turns round and nearly catches +him</i>.)–this morning alone. You should have yours ... alone ... too.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh, I say!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, yes, you are right. I must introduce myself first as a +suitor. I see that. (<i>Rising, to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>.) You stay here; +<i>I</i> will go alone into the garden, and–(<i>Moving below table and +up to the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It is perhaps a little cold out of doors for people of ... of +our age, Mr. Baxter. Now, in the library—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>at the swing doors, turning to her, astonished</i>). Library?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>a little</i>). You have a library?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>). He doesn't believe I have a library.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. You ought to see the library, Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>moving more down to below</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of table</i>). But you +are continually springing surprises on me this evening, Mrs. Tremayne. +First a daughter, then a husband, and then–a library! I have been here +three weeks, and I never knew you had a library. Dear me, I wonder how +it is that I never saw it?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>modestly, rising</i>). I thought you came to see <i>me</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. Yes, yes, to see you, certainly. But if I had known you had a +library ....</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh, I am so glad I mentioned it. Wasn't it lucky, Mr. Devenish?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. My work has been greatly handicapped of late.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>enter the garden from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and +pass the window at the back</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>sweetly</i>). By me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span>. I was about to say by lack of certain books to which I wanted to +refer. It would be a great help. (<i>He moves up R, reflectively +muttering "Library."</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving below and to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of</i> <span class="stage">C.</span> <i>table</i>). My +dear Mr. Baxter, my whole library is at your disposal. (<i>She turns +to</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span>, <i>who is on her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>, <i>and at the back of the table. +She speaks in a confidential whisper</i>.) I'm just going to show him +the Encyclopedia Britannica. (<i>She moves below the settee to the door</i> +<span class="stage">R.</span>) You won't mind waiting–Delia will be in directly.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Baxter</span>, <i>still muttering "Library," crosses to the door and opens it +for her. She goes out and he follows her</i>. <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>moves to the +<span class="stage">R.</span> of the swing doors and welcomes</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>. <span class="char">Tremayne</span> +<i>enters from the portico and holds open the swing doors for</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>speaking from the portico</i>). Hullo, we're just coming in.</p> + +<p>(<i>They enter and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>moves down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of the +table</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Where's Mrs. Tremayne?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>moving to down</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). She's gone to the library with +Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>coming down on</i> <span class="char">Delia's</span> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side–carelessly</i>). Oh, +the library. Where's that?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>promptly going towards the door, opening it and standing +above it</i>). The end door on the right.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>sits on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>end of the table facing</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>)</p> + +<p>Right at the end. You can't mistake it. On the right.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Ah, yes. (<i>He looks round at</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>, <i>who points +significantly at the door twice</i>.) Yes. (<i>He looks at</i> +<span class="char">Devenish</span>.) Yes. (<i>He goes out</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>hastily shuts the door and comes back to</i> <span class="char">Delia</span>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I say, your mother is a ripper.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>enthusiastically</i>). Isn't she! (<i>Remembering</i>.) At +least, you mean my aunt?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>smiling at her</i>). No, I mean your mother. To think that +I once had the cheek to propose to her.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh! Is it cheek to propose to people!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. To <i>her</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But not to me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Oh I say, Delia!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>with great dignity</i>). Thank you, my name is Miss Robinson–I mean, Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, if you're not quite sure which it is, it's much safer to +call you Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling</i>). Well, perhaps it is.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. And if I did propose to you, you haven't answered</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>sitting in the chair</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>of the table</i>). If you want +an answer now, it's no; but if you like to wait till next April—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>moving up to behind table–reproachfully</i>). Oh, I say, +and I cut my hair for you the same afternoon. (<i>Turning quickly</i>.) +You haven't really told me how you like it yet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Oh, how bad of me! You look lovely.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>sitting at back of the table</i>). And I promised to give +up poetry for your sake.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Perhaps I oughtn't to have asked you that.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. As far as I'm concerned, Delia, I'll do it gladly, but, of +course, one has to think about posterity.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. But you needn't be a poet. You could give posterity plenty to +think about if you were a statesman.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I don't quite see your objection to poetry.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You would be about the house so much. I want you to go away every +day and do great things, and then come home in the evening and tell me +all about it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Then you <i>are</i> thinking of marrying me!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. Well, I was just thinking in case I had to.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>he rises and taking her hands, raises her from the chair. +She backs a step to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span>). Do. It would be rather fun if you did. And +look here–(<i>he pulls her gently back. They both sit on the table. He +places his arm round her waist</i>)–I <i>will</i> be a statesman, if +you like, and go up to Downing Street every day, and come back in the +evening and tell you all about it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. How nice of you!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span> (<i>magnificently, holding up his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand to +Heaven</i>). Farewell, Parnassus!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>pulling down his hand</i>). What does that mean?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Well, it means that I've chucked poetry. A statesman's life +is the life for me; behold Mr. Devenish, the new M.P.–(<i>she holds up +her</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand admonishingly and he laughs apologetically</i> )–no, +look here, that was quite accidental.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>smiling at him</i>). I believe I shall really like you when I +get to know you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I don't know if it's you, or Devonshire, or the fact that I've +had my hair cut, but I feel quite a different being from what I was +three days ago.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You <i>are</i> different. (<i>They both rise from the table. She +pulls him to</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>one step</i>.) Perhaps it's your sense of humour +coming back.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Perhaps that's it. It's a curious feeling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>pulling him towards the swing doors</i>). Let's go outside; +there's a heavenly moon.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Moon? Moon? Now where have I heard that word before?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. What <i>do</i> you mean?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. I was trying not to be a poet.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>opens the doors</i>.)</p> + +<p>Well, I'll come with you, but I shall refuse to look at it. (<i>Putting +his</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>hand behind his back, he walks slowly out with her, saying +to himself</i>) The Prime Minister then left the House.</p> + +<p>(<i>They cross the windows at the back and go off</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>come from the library, the latter +holding the door for her to pass</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>moving below the settee across the room</i>). Thank you. I +don't think it's unkind to leave him, do you? He seemed quite happy.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>following her</i>). I shouldn't have been happy if we'd +stayed.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>reaching the Chesterfield she puts her feet up. Her head it +towards</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>). Yes, but I was really thinking of Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>above table</i> <span class="stage">C.</span>). Not of me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, I thought it was Mr. Baxter's turn. Poor man, he's had a +disappointment lately.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>coming to <span class="stage">R.</span> of the Chesterfield–eagerly</i>). A +disappointment?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, he thought I was–younger than I was.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling to himself</i>). How old are you, Belinda?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>dropping her eyes</i>). Twenty-two. (<i>After a pause</i>.) +He thought I was eighteen. Such a disappointment!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>smiling openly at her</i>). Belinda, how old are you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Just about the right age, Mr. Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. The right age for what?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. For this sort of conversation.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Shall I tell you how old you are?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Do you mean in figures or–poetically?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I meant—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Mr. Devenish said I was as old as the–now, I must get this the +right way round–as old as the—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I don't want to talk about Mr. Devenish.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>with a sigh</i>). Nobody ever does–except Mr. Devenish. As +old as the stars, and as young as the dawn. (<i>Settling herself +cosily</i>.) I think that's rather a nice age to be, don't you?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. A very nice age to be.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. It's a pity he's thrown me over for Delia; I shall miss that +sort of thing rather. You don't say those sort of things about your +aunt-in-law–not so often.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>eagerly</i>). He really is in love with Miss Robinson!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Oh yes. I expect he is out in the moonlight with her now, +comparing her to Diana.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, that accounts for <i>him</i>. Now what about Baxter?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I thought I told you. Deeply disappointed to find that I was +four years older than he expected, Mr. Baxter hurried from the drawing-room and buried himself in a column of the <i>Encyclopedia Britannica</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, that settles Baxter. Are there any more men in the +neighbourhood?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>shaking her head</i>). Isn't it awful? I've only had those +two for the last three weeks.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>sits on the back of the Chesterfield and looks down at +her</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, Henry!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. My name is John.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, you never told me. I had to guess. Everybody thinks they +can call me Belinda without giving me the least idea what their own +names are. You were saying, John?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. My friends call me Jack.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Jack Robinson. That's the man who always goes away so quickly. +I hope you're making more of a stay?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>seizing her by both arms</i>). Oh, you maddening, maddening +woman!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, I have to keep the conversation going. You do nothing but +say "Belinda."</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>taking her hand</i>). Have you ever loved anybody +seriously, Belinda?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I don't ever do anything very seriously. The late Mr. Tremayne, +my first husband–Jack— Isn't it funny, <i>his</i> name was Jack–he +used to complain about it too sometimes.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>with conviction</i>). Silly ass!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Ah, I think you are a little hard on the late Mr. Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda, I want you to marry me and forget about him.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>happily to herself and lying back</i>). This is the proposal +that those lamb cutlets interrupted this morning.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Belinda, I love you–do you understand?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Suppose my first husband turns up suddenly like–like E. A.?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Like who?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Well, like anybody.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. He won't–I know he won't. Don't you love me enough to risk +it, Belinda?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I haven't really said I love you at all yet.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Well, say it now.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>looks at him, and then down again</i>.)</p> + +<p>You do! Well, I'm going to have a kiss, anyway, (<i>He kisses her +quickly–moves to</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of Chesterfield</i>.) There!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>rising</i>). O-oh I The late Mr. Tremayne never did that. +(<i>She powders her nose</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I have already told you that he was a silly ass. (<i>He makes +a move as if to kiss her again</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>holding up her hand and sitting on the</i> <span class="stage">R.</span> <i>side of the +Chesterfield</i>). I shall scream for Mr. Baxter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>sitting down on the Chesterfield, on her</i> L, <i>side</i>.) +Belinda—</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, Henry–I mean, Jack?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Do you know who I am! (<i>He is thoroughly enjoying the +surprise he is about to give her</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>nodding</i>). Yes, Jack.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Who?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Jack Tremayne.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>jumping up</i>). Good heavens, you <i>know</i>!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>gently</i>). Yes, Jack.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>angrily</i>). You've known all the time that I was your +husband, and you've been playing with me and leading me on.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>mildly</i>). Well, darling, you knew all the time that I was +your wife, and you've been making love to me and leading me on.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. That's different.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>to herself</i>). That's just what the late Mr. Tremayne +said, and then he slammed the door and went straight off to the Rocky +Mountains and shot bears; and I didn't see him again for eighteen years.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>remorsefully</i>). Darling, I was a fool then, and I'm a +fool now.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I was a fool then, but I'm not such a fool now–I'm not going +to let you go. It's quite time I married and settled down.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. You darling I (<i>He kisses her</i>.) How did you find out who +I was?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>awkwardly</i>). Well, it was rather curious, darling. +(<i>After a pause</i>.) It was April, and I felt all sort of Aprily, +and–and–there was the garden all full of daffodils–and–and there was +Mr. Baxter–the one we left in the library–knowing all about moles. +He's probably got the M. volume down now. Well, we were talking about +them one day, and I happened to say that the late Mr. Tremayne–that was +you, darling–had rather a peculiar one on his arm. And then he happened +to see it this morning and told me about it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. What an extraordinary story!</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, darling; it's really much more extraordinary than that. I +think perhaps I'd better tell you the rest of it another time. +(<i>Coaxingly</i>.) Now show me where the nasty lion scratched you.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>pulls up his sleeve</i>.) Oh! (<i>She kisses his arm</i>.) +You shouldn't have left Chelsea, darling.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I should never have found you if I hadn't.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>squeezing his arm</i>). No, Jack, you wouldn't. (<i>After a +pause</i>.) I–I've got another little surprise for you if–if you're +ready for it. (<i>Standing up and moving to the chair</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>of the +table</i>.) Properly speaking, I ought to be wearing white. I shall +certainly stand up while I'm telling you. (<i>Modestly</i>.) Darling, we +have a daughter–our little Delia. (<i>He is standing in front of the +fireplace</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Delia? You said her name was Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Yes, darling, but you said yours was. One always takes one's +father's name. Unless, of course, you were Lord Robinson.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. But you said her name was Robinson before you—</p> + +<p>(<i>She makes a playful move</i>.)</p> + +<p>–Oh, never mind about that. A daughter? Belinda, how could you let me +go and not tell me?</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You forget how you'd slammed the door. It isn't the sort of +thing you shout through the window to a man on his way to America.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>taking her in his arms</i>). Oh, Belinda, don't let me ever +go away again.</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>enter from up</i> <span class="stage">L.</span> <i>and pass the +windows on the way to the swing doors</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. I'm not going to, Jack. I'm going to settle down into a staid +old married woman.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. Oh no, you're not. You're going on just as you did before. And +I'm going to propose to you every April, and win you, over all the other +men in love with you.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. You darling! (<i>They embrace</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>come in from the garden</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span> (<i>quietly to</i> <span class="char">Belinda</span>). Our daughter.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span> (<i>going up to</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span>). You're my father.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. If you don't mind very much, Delia.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Delia</span>. You've been away a long time.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. I'll do my best to make up for it.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span>. Delia, darling, I think you might kiss your poor old father.</p> + +<p>(<i>As the does to</i>, <span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>suddenly and hastily kisses</i> +<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>on the cheek</i>.)</p> + +<p><span class="char">Devenish</span>. Just in case you're going to be my mother-in-law.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Tremayne</span>. We seem to be rather a family party.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Belinda</span> (<i>suddenly</i>). There! (<i>Moving to the door</i> <span class="stage">L.</span>) We've +forgotten Mr. Baxter again.</p> + +<p><span class="char">Baxter</span> (<i>who has come in quietly with a book in his hand</i>). Oh, don't mind +about me, Mrs. Tremayne. I've enjoyed myself immensely. (<i>He crosses to +the arm-chair below the fireplace and places it in front of the fire</i>.)</p> + +<p>(<span class="char">Belinda</span> <i>and</i> <span class="char">Tremayne</span> <i>move up into the inner room by the +refectory table and embrace, their backs to</i> <span class="char">Baxter</span>. <span class="char">Delia</span> <i>and</i> +<span class="char">Devenish</span> <i>are by the swing doors. They also embrace, their backs to</i> +<span class="char">Baxter</span>.)</p> + +<p>(<i>Referring to his book</i>.) I have been collecting some most valuable +information on (looking round at them and sitting in the arm-chair and +continuing to read) lunacy in the–er–county of Devonshire.</p> + +<p>(<i>The</i> <span style="font-variant: small-caps">Curtain</span> <i>falls</i>.)</p> + + + +<pre> + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Belinda, by A. A. 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