Алан Милн - Belinda

(DELIA shakes hands with BAXTER and moves to C. below BELINDA and shakes hands with DEVENISH.)

DELIA. How do you do?

BELINDA. Miss Robinson has just come over from France. Man Dieu, quel pays!

BAXTER. I hope you had a good crossing, Miss Robinson.

DELIA. Oh, I never mind about the crossing. ( Very slowly and shyly .) Aunt Belinda―( She stops and smiles .)

BELINDA. Yes, dear?

DELIA. I believe tea is almost ready. I want mine, and I'm sure Mr. Baxter's hungry. ( He sniggers approvingly .) Mr. Devenish scorns food, I expect.

DEVENISH ( hurt ). Why do you say that?

DELIA. Aren't you a poet?

BELINDA. Yes, darling, but that doesn't prevent him eating. He'll be absolutely lyrical over Betty's sandwiches.

DEVENISH. You won't deny me that inspiration, I hope, Miss Robinson.

BELINDA ( taking DELIA'S arm and moving with her to below deck– chair ). Well, let's go and see what they're like.

(DELIA moves up R.C. to below the porch, accompanied by BAXTER on her R. and DEVENISH, who follows her on her L. They all move towards the porch .)

Mr. Baxter, just a moment.

BAXTER ( apologizing to DELIA and moving in front of the others to back of deck–chair .) Yes?

(DELIA gathers a daffodil from a vase R. and places it in DEVENISH'S buttonhole .)

BELINDA ( secretly ). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must be a surprise for her.

BAXTER. Quite so, I understand.

BELINDA. That's right. (BAXTER rejoins DELIA. Raising her voice .) Oh, Mr. Devenish.

(DEVENISH, who is evidently much attracted by DELIA, apologizes to her and goes back between tree and hammock to L. of BELINDA.)

DEVENISH. Yes, Mrs. Tremayne?

BELINDA ( secretly ). Not a word to her about Mr. Robinson. It must be a surprise for her.

DEVENISH. Of course! I shouldn't dream―( Indignantly .) Robinson! What an unsuitable name!

(BAXTER and DELIA are just going into the house .)

BELINDA ( dismissing DEVENISH). All right, I'll catch you up. (DEVENISH goes after the other two .)

( Left alone , BELINDA laughs happily to herself, and then begins to look rather aimlessly about her. She picks up her sunshade and opens it. She comes to the hammock, picks out her handkerchief, says, "Ah, there you are!" and puts it away. She goes slowly towards the house . TREMAYNE enters from L. and with his back to the audience tries latch of imaginary gate below scenic painted gateway L. BELINDA turns her head, hearing imaginary click of the garden gate L. She comes slowly back R.C.)

BELINDA ( seeing TREMAYNE). Have you lost yourself, or something? No; the latch is this side…. Yes, that's right.

(TREMAYNE comes in. He has been knocking about the world for eighteen years, and is very much a man, though he has kept his manners. His hair is greying a little at the sides, and he looks the forty–odd that he is. Without his moustache and beard he is very different from the boy BELINDA married .)

TREMAYNE ( with his hat in his hand ). I'm afraid I'm trespassing.

BELINDA ( winningly, moving down R. a little ). But it's such a pretty garden ( turns away, dosing her parasol ), isn't it?

(TREMAYNE, half recognizing her, moves to back of hammock and leans across to obtain a better view of her .)

TREMAYNE ( rather confused ). I–I beg your pardon, I–er― ( He is wondering if it can possibly be she . BELINDA thinks his confusion is due to the fact that he is trespassing, and hastens to put him at his ease .)

BELINDA. I should have done the same myself, you know.

TREMAYNE ( pulling himself together ). Oh, but you mustn't think I just came in because I liked the garden―

BELINDA ( clapping her hands ). No; but say you do like it, quick.

TREMAYNE. It's lovely and― ( He hesitates .)

BELINDA ( hopefully ). Yes?

TREMAYNE ( with conviction ). Yes, it's lovely. BELINDA ( with that happy sigh of hers ). O–oh! … Now tell me what really did happen?

TREMAYNE. I was on my way to Marytown―

BELINDA. To where?

TREMAYNE. Marytown.

BELINDA. Oh, you mean Mariton.

TREMAYNE. Do I?

BELINDA. Yes; we always call it Mariton down here. ( Earnestly .) You don't mind, do you?

TREMAYNE ( smiling ). Not a bit.

BELINDA. Just say it—to see if you've got it right.

TREMAYNE. Mariton.

BELINDA ( shaking her head ). Oh no, that's quite wrong. Try it again ( With a rustic accent .) Mariton.

TREMAYNE. Mariton.

BELINDA. Yes, that's much better … . ( As if it were he who had interrupted .) Well, do go on.

TREMAYNE. I'm afraid it isn't much of an apology really. I saw what looked like a private road ( points L.), but what I rather hoped wasn't, and—well, I thought I'd risk it. I do hope you'll forgive me.

BELINDA. Oh, but I love people seeing my garden. Are you staying in Mariton?

TREMAYNE. I think so. Oh yes, decidedly.

BELINDA. Well, perhaps the next time the road won't feel so private.

TREMAYNE. How charming of you! ( He feels he must know. A piano is heard off playing "Belinda." The tune is continued until the fall of the curtain .) Are you Mrs. Tremayne by any chance?

BELINDA. Yes.

TREMAYNE ( nodding to himself ). Yes.

BELINDA. How did you know?

TREMAYNE ( hastily inventing, moving down L. below the hammock ). They use you as a sign–post in the village. Past Mrs. Tremayne's house and then bear to the left—

BELINDA. And you couldn't go past it?

TREMAYNE. I'm afraid I couldn't. Thank you so much for not minding. ( Going up to the L. of her .) Well, I must be getting on, I have trespassed quite enough.

BELINDA ( regretfully ). And you haven't really seen the garden yet.

TREMAYNE. If you won't mind my going on this way, I shall see some more on my way out.

BELINDA. Please do. It likes being looked at. ( With the faintest suggestion of demureness .) All pretty things do.

TREMAYNE. Thank you very much. ( Turns to go up c .) Er―( He hesitates .)

BELINDA ( helpfully ). Yes?

TREMAYNE. I wonder if you'd mind very much if I called one day to thank you formally for the lesson you gave me in pronunciation?

BELINDA ( gravely ). Yes. I almost think you ought to. I think it's the correct thing to do.

TREMAYNE ( contentedly ). Thank you very much, Mrs. Tremayne.

BELINDA. You'll come in quite formally ( pointing to R. with her sunshade ) by the front–door next time, won't you, because— because that seems the only chance of my getting to know your name.

TREMAYNE. Oh, I beg your pardon. My name is—er—er—Robinson.

( She is highly amused and looks round towards the house, recalling to her mind DELIA.)

BELINDA ( laughing ). How very odd!

TREMAYNE ( startled ). Odd?

BELINDA. Yes; we have some one called Robinson ( nodding towards the house ) staying in the house. I wonder if she is any relation?

TREMAYNE ( hastily ). Oh no, no. No, she couldn't be. I have no relations called Robinson—not to speak of.

BELINDA. You must tell me all about your relations when you come and call, Mr. Robinson.