SYLVIA (_turns_). After all that Broncho busting! I don't think!

(_Exit_ SYLVIA _upstairs._)

DANIEL. Broncho busting! What on earth does she mean? (_He walks slowly to fireplace and stands with his back to it._)

(_Enter_ MRS. DERMOTT _down stairs. They meet_ C.)

MRS. DERMOTT. Danny! Danny! darling----

DANIEL (C.). Anne! (_He kisses her fondly._)

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, my dear, you have been away such a long time.

DANIEL (_he turns her round to_ R.). Well, this is splendid--you do look fit! Do you know I've often longed to be home. I've imagined winter afternoons just like this--with a nice crackly fire and tea and m.u.f.fins in the grate. (_Pulling her on Chesterfield._)

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh well, they're not in the grate yet, dear, but they will be soon. I ordered a special lot because I knew you loved them.

(_He sits beside her; she is nearest the fire._)

MRS. DERMOTT. I can never thank you enough for sending the cheque, Danny.

DANIEL. Oh, rubbish.

MRS. DERMOTT. It was the greatest help in the world.

DANIEL. I started for home the very moment I heard you were in trouble; has everything been very, very trying?

MRS. DERMOTT. Only during the last few days. You see, George hadn't been near me for four years before he died, so it wasn't such a terrible shock as it might have been. Of course, he was my husband, and it was upsetting, but still----

DANIEL. He behaved like a beast to you, and----

MRS. DERMOTT. Well, he's dead now--but don't let's discuss my affairs.

Tell me about yourself; what have you been doing?

DANIEL. That can wait. Considering that the sole object of my coming to England was to help you, I think we ought to concentrate. Tell me now, has he left you very badly off?

MRS. DERMOTT. Well, Tibbets says we're ruined, but you know what Tibbets is. Such a pessimist!

DANIEL. Tibbets?

MRS. DERMOTT. Yes, our lawyer, you know.

DANIEL. Do I? How much have you got?

MRS. DERMOTT. I think Tibbets said about fifteen hundred; of course we can't keep the house and family going on that, can we?

DANIEL. Of course we can't. What do the children intend to do?

MRS. DERMOTT. Well, they don't quite know, poor darlings.

DANIEL. Poor darlings! Is Oliver at home?

MRS. DERMOTT. Yes. He's going to be a barrister or an engineer. He's very vague about it, but has been learning Pelmanism, so I know he's going to be something.

DANIEL. I see. Bobbie?

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, Bobbie, he's so young. Of course, it's not his fault.

DANIEL. Naturally.

MRS. DERMOTT. He composes, you know--beautiful little songs,--mostly about moonlight. Evangeline writes the words. She is _very_ artistic, and----

DANIEL. What does Sylvia do?

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, she helps me.

DANIEL. In what way?

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh--er--she--well--she does the flowers, and comes calling with me, and she's _invaluable_ at jumble sales, when we have them.

DANIEL. And the youngest?

MRS. DERMOTT. Joyce? Oh, she's still at school--she's going to Roedean next year to be finished.

DANIEL. Finished? Oh, I see! Well! They sound a pretty hopeless lot.

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, Danny, how can you be so horrid? Why, they're all darlings! You can't expect them to work. They've not been brought up to it.

DANIEL. I think it's about time they started.

(_Enter_ EVANGELINE _down stairs, followed by_ OLIVER, BOBBIE _and_ JOYCE. SYLVIA _comes last._)

MRS. DERMOTT (_rising, back to audience_). Here they are. Children this is Uncle Daniel.

(DANIEL _rises, stands_ L. _of Chesterfield._)

EVANGELINE (_gracefully embracing him_). I remember you quite well.

DANIEL. Splendid. Evangeline?

EVANGELINE. Yes, Evangeline. (_Crosses to fire, down stage._)

OLIVER (_shaking hands_). So do I. (_Moves to above_ EVANGELINE.)

BOBBIE (_shaking hands_). I don't remember you a bit, but I may later when we all start reminiscencing. (_Goes_ L.)

JOYCE (_kissing him_). We've been simply longing for you to come home.