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?
