FAITH. Mother, we're engaged!

MRS. CROMBIE. Of course you are. That has been perfectly obvious from the moment I pa.s.sed the window. Now of course we have all the trouble of getting you disengaged again. Really you are very tiresome. (_Below table._)

FAITH. Mother, how can you be so horrid, you will _not_ understand!

Bobbie has ever so much better prospects than Oliver.

MRS. CROMBIE. Who said so? Bobbie?

FAITH. Yes, but it's true; his Uncle is going to leave him a huge fortune in a year's time.

MRS. CROMBIE. Which Uncle? (_Takes out cigarette from case._)

FAITH. He's only got one--Daniel Davis. He landed in England yesterday, and is coming down here to-day. Eighteen months ago the doctor said he only had three years to live----

MRS. CROMBIE. I've been caught like that before. (_Crosses to mantelpiece for matches._)

FAITH. Why, how do you mean?

MRS. CROMBIE. Experience has taught me one thing, and that is that in this world people _never_ die when they're expected to. (_Sits on Chesterfield._) The old man will probably live to a ripe old age, then where would you be?

FAITH. Well, anyhow Bobbie makes quite a lot out of his songs. (_Sits in armchair._)

MRS. CROMBIE. Don't be childish, Faith. You know perfectly well I should never allow you to marry a man without a settled income--prospects never kept anyone. Besides, if any of them get the uncle's money it will be Oliver--he's the eldest. (_Lights cigarette._)

FAITH (_in chair_ L.C.). That's where you are wrong, mother. Just before he sailed back to America, he took Bobbie aside and told him in confidence that he was the one he meant to leave everything to. Of course the others mustn't know because it would be favouritism--don't you see?

MRS. CROMBIE. How much is he going to leave?

FAITH. I don't know, but it's sure to be a lot.

MRS. CROMBIE. Why?

FAITH. Well, he's a bachelor and--and he's been mining in South America.

MRS. CROMBIE. There are hundreds of bachelors in South America who are absolutely penniless--whether they mine or not.

FAITH. You are horrid, mother. (_Sniffs._) I did feel so happy, and I wanted you to be happy too.

MRS. CROMBIE (_with slight sarcasm_). It was sweet of you, dear. I really can't work myself up to a high pitch of enthusiasm over an uncle who though apparently in the last throes of a virulent disease is well able to gallop backwards and forwards across the Atlantic gaily arranging to leave an extremely problematic fortune to an extremely scatter-brained young man.

FAITH. Bobbie isn't _scatter_-brained.

MRS. CROMBIE. The whole family is scatter-brained, and I expect the uncle's the worst of the lot--he wouldn't have been sent to South America otherwise.

FAITH. He wasn't _sent_, he went.

MRS. CROMBIE. How do you know? He probably did something disgraceful in his youth and had to leave the country. Just like my brother, your Uncle Percy. I'm certain there's a skeleton of some kind in this family--anyhow he's sure not to die when we want him to.

FAITH. The doctor said three years.

MRS. CROMBIE. Only to frighten him, that's what doctors are for. I believe they cured hundreds of cases in the army like that.

FAITH. Did they, mother.

MRS. CROMBIE. What's the matter with the man?

FAITH. I don't know.

MRS. CROMBIE. It strikes me, dear, that you had better find out a bit more before you get engaged another time.

FAITH (_tearfully_). But I don't want to be engaged another time. I want to be engaged this time. Oh, mother darling, won't you wait a little while? Just _see_ the uncle. If you got him alone for a while you could find out anything--you're always so clever at that sort of thing. Oh, mother, do.

MRS. CROMBIE. I'll interview the man on one condition. That is that whatever decision I may make you promise to abide by it afterwards.

FAITH (_rises_). Yes, mother, I promise. (_Kisses her, remains below fireplace._)

MRS. CROMBIE. Now I suppose we had better join the rest, they're being feverishly bright on the tennis lawn.

(_Enter_ MRS. DERMOTT _followed by_ EVANGELINE. MRS. DERMOTT _motions to_ EVANGELINE _to pick up papers, who does so, placing them on table._)

MRS. DERMOTT. Ah, there you are, Mrs. Crombie; you were bored with watching tennis too. Of course Oliver and Joyce's efforts cannot really be called tennis, but still it's an amus.e.m.e.nt for them. (_Sits in armchair._) Have you seen my knitting anywhere, Vangy darling? I'm certain I left it here.

(FAITH _sits on form_ R.)

EVANGELINE. You had it in the drawing-room before lunch. I'll go and look.

(_Exit_ EVANGELINE R.)

MRS. DERMOTT. Thank you so much, dear. You know, Mrs. Crombie, I imagined that all authors became terribly superior after a little time, but Vangy hasn't a bit--it is such a relief to me.

MRS. CROMBIE. I haven't read her book yet; I must really order it from Boots.

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, you belong to Boots too, I did for years--there's something so fascinating in having those little ivory marker things with one's name on them, but, of course, I had to give it up when the crash came.

(_Re-enter_ EVANGELINE _with knitting._)

EVANGELINE. Here you are, mother. (_Crosses to below table._)

MRS. DERMOTT. Thank you so much, darling. Do you know, Mrs. Crombie, I started this at the beginning of the War and I haven't finished it yet?

I do hope you are not being terribly dull here, Mrs. Crombie. (_Drops ball of wool._) I'm afraid we're awfully bad at entertaining.

MRS. CROMBIE. Not at all. You are one of those excellent hostesses who allow their guests to do as they like, it's so much more comfortable.

FAITH (_rising_). I think I'll go and talk to Bobbie in the garden.

(_Goes between Chesterfield and armchair._)

MRS. DERMOTT. Do dear, I'm sure he'd love it. (_Kisses her._ FAITH _giggles._)