Belinda | Page 2

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