LITMIR.BIZ

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chance. [She glances at the COLONEL.] I've put all my spare cash into it. They're issuing some Preference shares now; if Uncle Tom wants an investment" – [She pauses, then in a changed, decided voice] – Well, I suppose I shall have to screw him in somehow.

      COLONEL. What's that about gold mines? Gambling nonsense! Molly ought to know my views.

      MRS. HOPE. [Folding the letter away out of her consciousness.] Oh! your views! This may be a specially good chance.

      MISS BEECH. Ahem! Special case!

      MRS. HOPE. [Paying no attention.] I 'm sick of these 3 per cent. dividends. When you've only got so little money, to put it all into that India Stock, when it might be earning 6 per cent. at least, quite safely! There are ever so many things I want.

      COLONEL. There you go!

      MRS. HOPE. As to Molly, I think it's high time her husband came home to look after her, instead of sticking out there in that hot place. In fact —

      [Miss BEECH looks up at the tree and exhibits cerebral excitement]

      I don't know what Geoff's about; why doesn't he find something in England, where they could live together.

      COLONEL. Don't say anything against Molly, Nell!

      MRS. HOPE. Well, I don't believe in husband and wife being separated. That's not my idea of married life.

      [The COLONEL whistles quizzically.]

      Ah, yes, she's your niece, not mime! Molly's very —

      MISS BEECH. Ouch! [She sucks her finger.]

      MRS. HOPE. Well, if I couldn't sew at your age, Peachey, without pricking my fingers! Tom, if I have Mr. Lever here, you'll just attend to what I say and look into that mine!

      COLONEL. Look into your grandmother! I have n't made a study of geology for nothing. For every ounce you take out of a gold mine, you put an ounce and a half in. Any fool knows that, eh, Peachey?

      MISS BEECH. I hate your horrid mines, with all the poor creatures underground.

      MRS. HOPE. Nonsense, Peachey! As if they'd go there if they did n't want to!

      COLONEL. Why don't you read your paper, then you'd see what a lot of wild-cat things there are about.

      MRS. HOPE. [Abstractedly.] I can't put Ernest and Letty in the blue room, there's only the single bed. Suppose I put Mr. Lever there, and say nothing about the earwigs. I daresay he'll never notice.

      COLONEL. Treat a guest like that!

      MRS. HOPE. Then where am I to put him for goodness sake?

      COLONEL. Put him in my dressing-room, I'll turn out.

      MRS. HOPE. Rubbish, Tom, I won't have you turned out, that's flat. He can have Joy's room, and she can sleep with the earwigs.

      JOY. [From her hiding-place upon a lower branch of the hollow tree.] I won't.

      [MRS. HOPE and the COLONEL jump.]

      COLONEL. God bless my soul!

      MRS. HOPE. You wretched girl! I told you never to climb that tree again. Did you know, Peachey? [Miss BEECH smiles.] She's always up there, spoiling all her frocks. Come down now, Joy; there's a good child!

      JOY. I don't want to sleep with earwigs, Aunt Nell.

      MISS BEECH. I'll sleep with the poor creatures.

      MRS. HOPE, [After a pause.] Well, it would be a mercy if you would for once, Peachey.

      COLONEL. Nonsense, I won't have Peachey —

      MRS. HOPE. Well, who is to sleep there then?

      JOY. [Coaxingly.] Let me sleep with Mother, Aunt Nell, do!

      MRS. HOPE. Litter her up with a great girl like you, as if we'd only one spare room! Tom, see that she comes down – I can't stay here, I must manage something. [She goes away towards the house.]

      COLONEL. [Moving to the tree, and looking up.] You heard what your aunt said?

      JOY. [Softly.] Oh, Uncle Tom!

      COLONEL. I shall have to come up after you.

      JOY. Oh, do, and Peachey too!

      COLONEL. [Trying to restrain a smile.] Peachey, you talk to her. [Without waiting for MISS BEECH, however, he proceeds.] What'll your aunt say to me if I don't get you down?

      MISS BEECH. Poor creature!

      JOY. I don't want to be worried about my frock.

      COLONEL. [Scratching his bald head.] Well, I shall catch it.

      JOY. Oh, Uncle Tom, your head is so beautiful from here! [Leaning over, she fans it with a leafy twig.]

      MISS BEECH. Disrespectful little toad!

      COLONEL. [Quickly putting on his hat.] You'll fall out, and a pretty mess that'll make on – [he looks uneasily at the ground] – my lawn!

      [A voice is heard calling "Colonel! Colonel!]"

      JOY. There's Dick calling you, Uncle Tom.

      [She disappears.]

      DICK. [Appearing in the opening of the wall.] Ernie's waiting to play you that single, Colonel!

      [He disappears.]

      JOY. Quick, Uncle Tom! Oh! do go, before he finds I 'm up here.

      MISS. BEECH. Secret little creature!

      [The COLONEL picks up his racquet, shakes his fist, and goes away.]

      JOY. [Calmly.] I'm coming down now, Peachey.

      [Climbing down.]

      Look out! I'm dropping on your head.

      MISS BEECH. [Unmoved.] Don't hurt yourself!

      [Joy drops on the rustic seat and rubs her shin. Told you so!] [She hunts in a little bag for plaster.]

      Let's see!

      JOY. [Seeing the worms.] Ugh!

      MISS BEECH. What's the matter with the poor creatures?

      JOY. They're so wriggly!

      [She backs away and sits down in the swing. She is just seventeen, light and slim, brown-haired, fresh-coloured, and grey-eyed; her white frock reaches to her ankles, she wears a sunbonnet.] Peachey, how long were you Mother's governess.

      MISS BEECH. Five years.

      JOY. Was she as bad to teach as me?

      MISS BEECH. Worse!

      [Joy claps her hands.]

      She was the worst girl I ever taught.

      JOY. Then you weren't fond of her?

      MISS BEECH. Oh! yes, I was.

      JOY. Fonder than of me?

      MISS BEECH. Don't you ask such a lot of questions.

      JOY. Peachey, duckie, what was Mother's worst fault?

      MISS BEECH. Doing what she knew she oughtn't.

      JOY. Was she ever sorry?

      MISS BEECH. Yes, but she always went on doin' it.

      JOY. I think being sorry 's stupid!

      MISS BEECH. Oh, do you?

      JOY. It isn't any good. Was Mother revengeful, like me?

      MISS BEECH. Ah! Wasn't she?

      JOY. And jealous?

      MISS BEECH. The most jealous girl I ever saw.

      JOY. [Nodding.] I like to be like her.

      MISS BEECH. [Regarding her intently.] Yes! you've got all your troubles before you.

      JOY. Mother was married at eighteen, wasn't she, Peachey? Was she – was she much in love with Father then?

      MISS BEECH. [With a sniff.] About as much as usual. [She takes the paint pot, and walking round begins to release

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