(_Enter_ MRS. DERMOTT _downstairs._)

MRS. DERMOTT. Danny darling, why were you so silly as to take any notice of the children? They're unkind and heartless, and I ordered the mushrooms specially for you this morning. Sit down and have them now.

They'll be quite hot still. (_She pushes him into chair._) Sylvia, get them, if you please. I can't think why they're all behaving like this, I shall never forgive them, Danny dear. You won't let them upset you, will you?

(_She kisses him._ MRS. DERMOTT _sits in_ SYLVIA'S _chair_, DANIEL _in_ MRS. DERMOTT'S.)

DANIEL. Well, they seem to have upset everything else.

(_Enter_ GRIGGS, R.)

MRS. DERMOTT. Bring some more toast and coffee, Griggs. Or would you rather have tea?

DANIEL. Tea, please.

MRS. DERMOTT. Tea then, Griggs.

GRIGGS. Very good, madam. (_Picks up remains of paper above Chesterfield and exit_ R.)

SYLVIA (_handing him plate of mushrooms and bacon_). Here you are, uncle dear--I'm going upstairs. Call me if you want anything.

(_Exit_ SYLVIA _upstairs._)

DANIEL. I will.

MRS. DERMOTT. I'm sure he won't.

DANIEL. Now look here, Anne, you're not to include Sylvia in your fury against the family. She has been perfectly sweet.

MRS. DERMOTT. So she ought to be--and the others as well. Such nonsense, I never heard of such a thing. Not being able to take a joke better than that. I don't know what's happened to them, they were such dear good-natured children. They used to make b.o.o.by traps and apple-pie beds for one another and not mind a bit.

(MRS. DERMOTT _keeps b.u.t.tering toast for him, arranging it round his plate._)

DANIEL. But you see, Anne, this perhaps has irritated them more than an apple-pie bed.

MRS. DERMOTT. I don't see why, it's just as harmless, and much less trouble.

DANIEL. If I had known they were going to take it so badly I should have thought of something else. I have lots of ideas. But even now, when I come to look back over everything, I don't see what else I could have done.

MRS. DERMOTT. You're just the kindest old darling in the world and everything, every single thing you have done for us, has been perfect.

DANIEL. Dear Anne, don't be absurd. It was nothing, worse than nothing, but I'd given it a lot of thought, and after all it has bucked them up and made them work. They're looking much better in health, too.

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, Danny, I only wish you were better in health. The shadow of your illness just hangs over me like a nightmare. I can't pa.s.s a flower shop without thinking of you.

DANIEL (_puts down knife and fork_). But I'm not ill at all. I've no intention of dying until I'm eighty-three or even eighty-four.

MRS. DERMOTT. Dear old boy, you're only saying that so that I shan't worry. (_She dabs her eyes._) But it's no use, you can't deceive me, you know.

DANIEL. But, Anne, I swear.--

MRS. DERMOTT. There, there, we'll say no more about it. It only upsets me and here's your tea.

(_She takes tea from_ GRIGGS, _who has entered with tea and toast. He goes off again._)

Have you seen your doctor lately?

DANIEL (_resignedly_). Yes, I saw him the other day.

MRS. DERMOTT (_pouring out tea_). And what did he say?

DANIEL (_confused_). Well--er--I don't know--he sounded me.

MRS. DERMOTT. Yes, they always do that. I wonder why. Your illness has nothing to do with your heart has it?

DANIEL (_firmly_). My dear Anne, I haven't got an illness.

MRS. DERMOTT. I'm sure I hope not, dear, but if he said that, I should really get another more expert opinion if I were you. A man like that can't be really reliable. I don't believe in doctors ever since poor Millicent Jenkins died.

DANIEL. Look here, Anne, I really do want to make you understand that what I told the children is perfectly true. I haven't any money.

MRS. DERMOTT. Nonsense, dear, you can't pull my leg as easily as that.

How were you able to send that cheque when I most needed it, and those lovely Christmas presents, and the fares backwards and forwards to America--I believe you've got some big surprise for us all later on and you're afraid that we'll guess it.

DANIEL. Yes, I have.

MRS. DERMOTT (_rising_). Now look here, dear, I must leave you for a little while. Sat.u.r.day is the busiest morning in the whole week. Finish off your breakfast and smoke a pipe--or a cigar or something; if any of the children come near you, just ignore them or pretend to be frightfully angry with them. That will bring them round.

(_Enter_ GRIGGS _hurriedly_, R.)

GRIGGS. If you please, madam, the boiler is making the most peculiar noises. Shall I send for Brown to come and look at it?

MRS. DERMOTT. I don't think that will do it any good, but still perhaps you'd better. I'll come myself in a minute.

(_Exit_ GRIGGS, R.)

MRS. DERMOTT (C.). Really, everything is going wrong this morning, first you, Danny, then the boiler; sometimes life isn't worth living--I do hope it won't burst.

(_Exit_ MRS. DERMOTT, R. DANIEL _sits thoughtful for a moment and_ _then resumes his breakfast. Enter_ JOYCE _from garden. She sees_ UNCLE DANIEL _and comes rather sheepishly up to him._)

JOYCE. Uncle, I----

DANIEL (_gruffly_). Good morning.

JOYCE (_feebly_). Good morning. (_There is a long pause._) Uncle Daniel--we've--er--we've all been talking----

DANIEL. That's quite a natural and healthy occupation.

JOYCE. We--we were talking about you.