Алан Милн - Belinda

DELIA. Didn't you see how friendly father and I got at dinner? I thought I'd better start breaking the ice—because I suppose he'll be kissing me directly.

BELINDA. Say you like him.

DELIA. I think he's going to be awfully nice. ( She kisses BELINDA and rises .) Does he know you know?

BELINDA. Not yet.

DELIA. Oh! ( She moves to the fireplace and warms her hands .)

BELINDA. Just at present I've rather got Mr. Baxter on my mind. I suppose, darling, you wouldn't like him as well as Mr. Devenish! ( Pathetically .) You see, they're so used to going about together.

DELIA. Claude is quite enough.

BELINDA. I think I must see Mr. Baxter and get it over. Do you mind if I have Mr. Devenish too? I feel more at home with both of them. I'll give you him back. Oh dear, I feel so happy to–night! ( She jumps up and goes to DELIA.) And is my little girl going to be happy too? That's what mothers always say on the stage. I think it's so sweet.

( They move together to below table .)

DELIA ( smiling at her ). Yes, I think so, mummy. Of course, I'm not romantic like you. I expect I'm more like father, really.

BELINDA ( dreamily ). Jack can be romantic now. He was telling me this morning all about the people he has proposed to. I mean, I was telling him. Anyhow, he wasn't a bit like a father. Of course, he doesn't know he is a father yet. Darling, I think you might take him into the garden; only don't let him know who he is. You see, he ought to propose to me first, oughtn't he?

( The men come in from R. TREMAYNE goes to the foot of the settee R., DEVENISH to the back of the table up R., while BAXTER stands at the back of the settee . BELINDA moves to the front of the settee and DELIA sits on the table .)

Here you all are! I do hope you haven't been throwing away your cigars, because smoking is allowed all over the house.

TREMAYNE ( as he comes to the foot of the settee ). Oh, we've finished, thank you.

BELINDA ( going up to the swing doors and opening them ). Isn't it a wonderful night?—and so warm for April. Delia, you must show Mr. Robinson the garden by moonlight—it's the only light he hasn't seen it by.

DEVENISH ( quickly coming to R. back of table C.). I don't think I've ever seen it by moonlight, Miss Delia.

BELINDA ( coming down a little ). I thought poets were always seeing things by moonlight.

BAXTER ( moving toward BELINDA). I was hoping, Mrs. Tremayne, that—er—perhaps―–

DELIA ( moving quickly to above TREMAYNE and taking his L. hand, and pulling him up stage to swing doors ). Come along, Mr. Robinson.

(TREMAYNE looks at BELINDA, who gives him a nod . BELINDA then moves down R.)

TREMAYNE (L. of DELIA). It's very kind of you, Miss Robinson. I suppose there is no chance of a nightingale?

BELINDA. There ought to be. I ordered one specially for Mr. Devenish.

(DELIA and TREMAYNE go out together . BELINDA, with a sigh, moves over to the Chesterfield and settles herself comfortably into it . DEVENISH, annoyed by TREMAYNE'S attentions to DELIA, crosses up angrily and looks off through the window up L. above fireplace, then comes down L. of the Chesterfield to the front of the fireplace . BAXTER moves up to the swing doors angrily watching DELIA and TREMAYNE, then moves to the window R. and looks off . BETTY then enters with a salver from R. She moves by the back of the settee to the back of the table C., picks up the coffee–cups and goes out R. BAXTER then moves over to the window facing the audience, up L. He looks off, then comes down to the R. of BELINDA.)

Now we're together again. Well, Mr. Devenish?

DEVENISH. Er—I—

BELINDA. No; I think I'll let Mr. Baxter speak first. I know he's longing to.

BAXTER ( leaning on the back of the chair L. of table—he clears his throat ). H'r'm! Mrs. Tremayne, I beg formally to claim your hand.

BELINDA ( sweetly ). On what grounds, Mr. Baxter?

DEVENISH ( spiritedly ). Yes, sir, on what grounds?

BAXTER ( coming to R. of Chesterfield, close to BELINDA). On the grounds that, as I told you this morning, I had succeeded in the quest.

DEVENISH ( appearing to be greatly surprised ). Succeeded?

BAXTER. Yes, Mr. Devenish, young fellow, you have lost. ( He moves a few paces R. to below the chair L. of the table .) I have discovered the missing Mr. Robinson.

DEVENISH ( wiping hit brow and coming to BAXTER). Who—where—

BAXTER ( dramatically ). Miss Robinson has at this moment gone out with her father.

DEVENISH ( placing his hands heavily on BAXTER'S shoulders, who staggers ). Good heavens! It was he!

( BAXTER pats DEVENISH sympathetically and moves to the back of the Chesterfield and is about to speak to BELINDA. She, however, silences him and he drops down to the front of the fireplace .)

BELINDA ( sympathetically ). Poor Mr. Devenish!

DEVENISH ( pointing tragically to the table ). And to think that I actually sat on that table—no, that seat ( he points to the settee R., then he moves up stage between it and the table )— that I sat there with him this morning, and never guessed! Why, ten minutes ago I was asking him for the nuts!

BAXTER. Aha, Devenish, you're not so clever as you thought you were.

DEVENISH ( coming quickly to the back of the chair L. of the table ). Why, I must have given you the clue myself! He told me he had a scar on his arm, and I never thought any more of it. And then I went away innocently and left you two talking about it.

BELINDA ( alarmed ). A scar on his arm?

DEVENISH. Where a lion mauled him.

(BELINDA gives a little cry and shudder .)

BAXTER. It's quite healed up now, Mrs. Tremayne.

BELINDA ( looking at him admiringly ). A lion! What you two have adventured for my sake!

BAXTER. I suppose you will admit, Devenish, that I may fairly claim to have won?

( Looking the picture of despair, DEVENISH drops down L. of the chair, droops his head, raises his arms and lets them fall hopelessly to his sides .)

BELINDA. Mr. Devenish, I have never admired you so much as I do at this moment. ( She extends her R. hand to DEVENISH, who gropes for it with his L. hand and eventually manages to seize it .)

BAXTER ( noticing he is holding her hand, moving to them and looking at them quizzically—indignantly to DEVENISH). I say, you know, that's not fair. It's all very well to take your defeat like a man, but you mustn't overdo it. ( They release their hands .) Mrs. Tremayne, I claim the reward which I have earned.

BELINDA ( after a pause and rising ). Mr. Baxter—Mr. Devenish, I have something to tell you.

(DEVENISH moves to her R.)

(BELINDA kneels upon the Chesterfield facing them. Penitently .) I have not been quite frank with you. I think you both ought to know that— I—I made a mistake. Delia is not my niece; she is my daughter. ( She buries her face in her hands .)

DEVENISH. Your daughter! I say, how ripping!

(BELINDA gives him an understanding look .)

BAXTER. Your daughter!

BELINDA. Yes.

BAXTER. But—but you aren't old enough to have a daughter of that age.