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!