Алан Милн - Belinda

BETTY ( looking about her surprised ). The mistress was here a moment ago. ( The two heads pop up from behind the hedge and then down again immediately . BELINDA and DELIA exeunt R.). I expect she'll be back directly, if you'll just wait.

( She goes back into the house .)

(BAXTER, crossing to R., meets DEVENISH who has moved up R. BAXTER is annoyed and with an impatient gesture comes down between the tree and the table to chair L. and sits . DEVENISH throws his felt hat on to the table and walks to the back of the hammock. He sees the review in the hammock and picks it up .)

DEVENISH. Good heavens, Baxter, she's been reading your article!

BAXTER. I dare say she's not the only one.

DEVENISH. That's only guesswork ( going to back of table ); you don't know of anyone else.

BAXTER ( with contempt ). How many people, may I ask, have bought your poems?

DEVENISH ( loftily ). I don't write for the mob.

BAXTER. I think I may say that of my own work.

DEVENISH. Baxter, I don't want to disappoint you, but I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that you are one of the mob. ( Throws magazine down on table, annoyed .) Dash it! what are you doing in the country at all in a bowler–hat?

BAXTER. If I wanted to be personal, I could say, "Why don't you get your hair cut?" Only that form of schoolboy humour doesn't appeal to me.

DEVENISH. This is not a personal matter; I am protesting on behalf of nature. ( Leaning against tree .) What do the birds and the flowers and the beautiful trees think of your hat?

BAXTER. If one began to ask oneself what the birds thought of things—( He pauses .)

DEVENISH. Well, and why shouldn't one ask oneself? It is better than asking oneself what the Stock Exchange thinks of things.

BAXTER. Well ( looking up at DEVENISH'S extravagant hair ), it's the nesting season. Your hair! ( Suddenly .) Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

DEVENISH ( hastily smoothing it down ). Really, Baxter, you're vulgar. ( He turns away and resumes his promenading, going down R. and then round deck–chair to front of hammock. Suddenly he sees his book on the grass beneath the hammock and makes a dash for it .) Ha, my book! ( Gloating over it .) Baxter, she reads my book.

BAXTER. I suppose you gave her a copy.

DEVENISH (exultingly). Yes, I gave her a copy. My next book will be hers and hers alone.

BAXTER. Then let me say that, in my opinion, you took a very great liberty.

DEVENISH. Liberty! And this from a man who is continually forcing his unwelcome statistics upon her.

BAXTER. At any rate, I flatter myself that there is no suggestion of impropriety in anything that I write.

DEVENISH. I'm not so sure about that, Baxter.

BAXTER. What do you mean, sir?

DEVENISH. Did you read The Times this month on the new reviews!

BAXTER. Well!

DEVENISH. Oh, nothing. It just said, "Mr. Baxter's statistics are extremely suggestive."

(BAXTER makes a gesture of annoyance .)

I haven't read them, so of course I don't know what you've been up to.

BAXTER ( rising, turning away in disgust and crossing up L). Pah!

DEVENISH. Poor old Baxter! ( Puts book of poems down on table and crosses below chair and gathers a daffodil from a large vase down R. and saying "Poor old Baxter!" ad lib . BAXTER moves round back of hammock and to R., collides with DEVENISH and much annoyed goes down between table and tree towards chair down L.) Baxter— ( moving to and leaning against tree R.)

BAXTER ( turning to DEVENISH crossly ). I wish you wouldn't keep calling me "Baxter."

DEVENISH. Harold.

(BAXTER displays annoyance, and continues his walk to L.)

BAXTER. It is only by accident—an accident which we both deplore—that we have met at all, and in any case I am a considerably older man than yourself. ( Sits L.)

DEVENISH. Mr. Baxter—father—( gesture of annoyance from BAXTER)— I have a proposal to make. We will leave it to this beautiful flower to decide which of us the lady loves.

BAXTER ( turning round ). Eh?

DEVENISH ( pulling off the petals ). She loves me, she loves Mr. Baxter, she loves me, she loves Mr. Baxter—(BELINDA appears in the porch )—Heaven help her!—she loves me—

BELINDA ( coming down R.). What are you doing, Mr. Devenish!

DEVENISH ( throwing away the flower and bowing very low ). My lady.

(BAXTER rises quickly .)

BAXTER (removing his bowler–hat stiffly). Good afternoon, Mrs. Tremayne.

( She gives her left hand to DEVENISH, who kisses it, and her right to BAXTER, who shakes it .)

BELINDA. How nice of you both to come!

BAXTER. Mr. Devenish and I are inseparable—apparently.

BELINDA. You haven't told me what you were doing, Mr. Devenish. Was it ( plucking an imaginary flower ) "This year, next year?" or "Silk, satin—"

DEVENISH. My lady, it was even more romantic than that. I have the honour to announce to your ladyship that Mr. Baxter is to be a sailor. ( Dances round imitating the hornpipe .)

BELINDA ( to BAXTER). Doesn't he talk nonsense?

BAXTER. He'll grow out of it. I did.

BELINDA ( moving down R. and then to centre towards hammock ). Oh, I hope not. I love talking nonsense, and I'm ever so old. ( As they both start forward to protest .) Now which one of you will say it first?

DEVENISH. You are as old as the stars and as young as the dawn.

BAXTER. You are ten years younger than I am.

BELINDA. What sweet things to say! I don't know which I like best.

DEVENISH. Where will my lady sit!

BELINDA ( with an exaggerated curtsy ). I will recline in the hammock, an it please thee, my lord―—

(BAXTER goes to the right of the hammock, saying "Allow me." DEVENISH moves to the left of the hammock and holds it, takes up a cushion which BAXTER snatches from him and places in hammock again .)

—only it's rather awkward getting in, Mr. Baxter. Perhaps you'd both better look at the tulips for a moment.

BAXTER. Oh—ah—yes. ( Crosses down R., turns his back to the hammock and examines the flowers .)

DEVENISH (leaning over her). If only―—

BELINDA. You'd better not say anything, Mr. Devenlsh. Keep it for your next volume. ( He turns away and examines flowers on L. She sits on hammock .) One, two, three—( throws her legs over )— that was better than last time. ( They turn round to see her safely in the hammock . DEVENISH leans against the L. tree at her feet, and BAXTER draws the deck–chair from the right side of the table and turns it round towards her. He presses his hat more firmly on and sits down .) I wonder if either of you can guess what I've been reading this afternoon!

DEVENISH ( looking at her lovingly ). I know.

BELINDA ( giving him a fleeting look ). How did you know?

DEVENISH. Well, I―–

BELINDA ( to BAXTER). Yes, Mr. Baxter, it was your article I was reading. If you'd come five minutes earlier you'd have found me wrestling—I mean revelling in it.

BAXTER. I am very greatly honoured, Mrs. Tremayne. Ah—it seemed to me a very interesting curve showing the rise and fall of―–

BELINDA. I hadn't got up to the curves. They are interesting, aren't they? They are really more in Mr. Devenish's line. ( To DEVENISH.) Mr. Devenish, it was a great disappointment to me that all the poems in your book seemed to be written to somebody else.