Joy | Page 9

at me! [JOY steals a look.] Oh! Joy!
[Again joy shakes her head.]
JOY. [Suddenly.] Don't!
DICK. [Seizing her hand.] Oh, Joy! Can't you----
JOY. [Drawing the hand away.] Oh! don't.
DICK. [Bending his head.] It's--it's--so----
JOY. [Quietly.] Don't, Dick!
DICK. But I can't help it! It's too much for me, Joy, I must tell you----

[MRS. GWYN is seen approaching towards the house.]
JOY. [Spinning round.] It's Mother--oh, Mother! [She rushes at her.]
[MRS. GWYN is a handsome creature of thirty-six, dressed in a muslin
frock. She twists her daughter round, and kisses her.]
MRS. GWYN. How sweet you look with your hair up, Joy! Who 's this?
[Glancing with a smile at DICK.]
JOY. Dick Merton--in my letters you know.
[She looks at DICK as though she wished him gone.]
MRS. GWYN. How do you do?
DICK. [Shaking hands.] How d 'you do? I think if you'll excuse me
--I'll go in.
[He goes uncertainly.
MRS. GWYN. What's the matter with him?
JOY. Oh, nothing! [Hugging her.] Mother! You do look such a duck.
Why did you come by the towing-path, was n't it cooking?
MRS. GWYN. [Avoiding her eyes.] Mr. Lever wanted to go into Mr.
Henty's.
[Her manner is rather artificially composed.]
JOY. [Dully.] Oh! Is he-is he really coming here, Mother?
MRS. GWYN. [Whose voice has hardened just a little.] If Aunt Nell's
got a room for him--of course--why not?
JOY. [Digging her chin into her mother's shoulder.]
[Why couldn't he choose some day when we'd gone? I wanted you all
to myself.]
MRS. GWYN. You are a quaint child--when I was your age----
JOY. [Suddenly looking up.] Oh! Mother, you must have been a chook!
MRS. GWYN. Well, I was about twice as old as you, I know that.
JOY. Had you any--any other offers before you were married, Mother?
MRS. GWYN. [Smilingly.] Heaps!
JOY. [Reflectively.] Oh!
MRS. GWYN. Why? Have you been having any?
JOY. [Glancing at MRS. GWYN, and then down.] N-o, of course not!
MRS. GWYN. Where are they all? Where's Peachey?
JOY. Fussing about somewhere; don't let's hurry! Oh! you duckie--
duckie! Aren't there any letters from Dad?
MRS. GWYN. [In a harder voice.] Yes, one or two.
JOY. [Hesitating.] Can't I see?

MRS. GWYN. I didn't bring them. [Changing the subject obviously.]
Help me to tidy--I'm so hot I don't know what to do.
[She takes out a powder-puff bag, with a tiny looking-glass.]
JOY. How lovely it'll be to-morrow-going home!
MRS. GWYN. [With an uneasy look.] London's dreadfully stuffy, Joy.
You 'll only get knocked up again.
JOY. [With consternation.] Oh! but Mother, I must come.
MRS. GWYN. (Forcing a smile.) Oh, well, if you must, you must!
[Joy makes a dash at her.]
Don't rumple me again. Here's Uncle Tom.
JOY. [Quickly.] Mother, we're going to dance tonight; promise to
dance with me--there are three more girls than men, at least--and don't
dance too much with--with--you know--because I'm--[dropping her
voice and very still]--jealous.
MRS. GWYN. [Forcing a laugh.] You are funny!
JOY. [Very quickly.] I haven't made any engagements because of you.
[The COLONEL approaches through the wall.]
MRS. GWYN. Well, Uncle Tom?
COLONEL. [Genially.] Why, Molly! [He kisses her.] What made you
come by the towing-path?
JOY. Because it's so much cooler, of course.
COLONEL. Hallo! What's the matter with you? Phew! you've got your
hair up! Go and tell your aunt your mother's on the lawn. Cut along!
[Joy goes, blowing a kiss.]
Cracked about you, Molly! Simply cracked! We shall miss her when
you take her off to-morrow. [He places a chair for her.] Sit down, sit
down, you must be tired in this heat. I 've sent Bob for your things with
the wheelbarrow; what have you got?--only a bag, I suppose.
MRS. GWYN. [Sitting, with a smile.] That's all, Uncle Tom, except--
my trunk and hat-box.
COLONEL. Phew! And what's-his-name brought a bag, I suppose?
MRS. GWYN. They're all together. I hope it's not too much, Uncle
Tom.
COLONEL. [Dubiously.] Oh! Bob'll manage! I suppose you see a good
deal of--of--Lever. That's his brother in the Guards, isn't it?
MRS. GWYN. Yes.
COLONEL. Now what does this chap do?

MRS. GWYN. What should he do, Uncle Tom? He's a Director.
COLONEL. Guinea-pig! [Dubiously.] Your bringing him down was a
good idea.
[MRS. GWYN, looking at him sidelong, bites her lips.]
I should like to have a look at him. But, I say, you know, Molly-- mines,
mines! There are a lot of these chaps about, whose business is to cook
their own dinners. Your aunt thinks----
MRS. GWYN. Oh! Uncle Tom, don't tell me what Aunt Nell thinks!
COLONEL. Well-well! Look here, old girl! It's my experience never
to--what I mean is--never to trust too much to a man who has to do
with mining.