Belinda | Page 2

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