Belinda | Page 8

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