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Certainly not, in this case!

      MISS BEECH. [From behind the hollow tree.] Special case!

      ERNEST. [Moving chin in collar – very coolly.] Well, of course if you won't play the game!

      COLONEL. [In a towering passion.] If you lose your temper like this, I 'll never play with you again.

      [To LETTY, a pretty soul in a linen suit, approaching through the wall.]

      Do you mean to say that ball was out, Letty?

      LETTY. Of course it was, Father.

      COLONEL. You say that because he's your husband. [He sits on the rustic seat.] If your mother'd been there she'd have backed me up!

      LETTY. Mother wants Joy, Dick, about her frock.

      DICK. I – I don't know where she is.

      MISS BEECH. [From behind the hollow tree.] Ahem!

      LETTY. What's the matter, Peachey?

      MISS BEECH. Swallowed a fly. Poor creature!

      ERNEST. [Returning to his point.] Why I know the ball was out, Colonel, was because it pitched in a line with that arbutus tree.

      COLONEL. [Rising.] Arbutus tree! [To his daughter.] Where's your mother?

      LETTY. In the blue room, Father.

      ERNEST. The ball was a good foot out; at the height it was coming when it passed me.

      COLONEL. [Staring at him.] You're a – you're aa theorist! From where you were you could n't see the ball at all. [To LETTY.] Where's your mother?

      LETTY. [Emphatically.] In the blue room, Father!

      [The COLONEL glares confusedly, and goes away towards the blue room.]

      ERNEST. [In the swing, and with a smile.] Your old Dad'll never be a sportsman!

      LETTY. [Indignantly.] I wish you wouldn't call Father old, Ernie! What time's Molly coming, Peachey?

      [ROSE has come from the house, and stands waiting for a chance to speak.]

      ERNEST. [Breaking in.] Your old Dad's only got one fault: he can't take an impersonal view of things.

      MISS BEECH. Can you find me any one who can?

      ERNEST. [With a smile.] Well, Peachey!

      MISS BEECH. [Ironically.] Oh! of course, there's you!

      ERNEST. I don't know about that! But —

      ROSE. [To LETTY,] Please, Miss, the Missis says will you and Mr. Ernest please to move your things into Miss Peachey's room.

      ERNEST. [Vexed.] Deuce of a nuisance havin' to turn out for this fellow Lever. What did Molly want to bring him for?

      MISS BEECH. Course you've no personal feeling in the matter!

      ROSE. [Speaking to Miss BEECH.] The Missis says you're to please move your things into the blue room, please Miss.

      LETTY. Aha, Peachey! That settles you! Come on, Ernie!

      [She goes towards the house. ERNEST, rising from the swing, turns to Miss BEECH, who follows.]

      ERNEST. [Smiling, faintly superior.] Personal, not a bit! I only think while Molly 's out at grass, she oughtn't to —

      MISS BEECH. [Sharply.] Oh! do you?

      [She hustles ERNEST out through the wall, but his voice is heard faintly from the distance: "I think it's jolly thin."]

      ROSE. [To DICK.] The Missis says you're to take all your worms and things, Sir, and put them where they won't be seen.

      DICK. [Shortly.] Have n't got any!

      ROSE. The Missis says she'll be very angry if you don't put your worms away; and would you come and help kill earwigs in the blue – ?

      DICK. Hang! [He goes, and ROSE is left alone.]

      ROSE. [Looking straight before her.] Please, Miss Joy, the Missis says will you go to her about your frock.

      [There is a little pause, then from the hollow tree joy's voice is heard.]

      JOY. No-o!

      ROSE. If you did n't come, I was to tell you she was going to put you in the blue.

      [Joy looks out of the tree.] [Immovable, but smiling.]

      Oh, Miss joy, you've done your hair up! [Joy retires into the tree.] Please, Miss, what shall I tell the Missis?

      JOY. [Joy's voice is heard.] Anything you like.

      ROSE. [Over her shoulder.] I shall be drove to tell her a story, Miss.

      JOY. All right! Tell it.

      [ROSE goes away, and JOY comes out. She sits on the rustic seat and waits. DICK, coming softly from the house, approaches her.]

      DICK. [Looking at her intently.] Joy! I wanted to say something

      [Joy does not look at him, but twists her fingers.]

      I shan't see you again you know after to-morrow till I come up for the 'Varsity match.

      JOY. [Smiling.] But that's next week.

      DICK. Must you go home to-morrow?

      [Joy nods three times.] [Coming closer.]

      I shall miss you so awfully. You don't know how I —

      [Joy shakes her head.]

      Do look at me! [JOY steals a look.] Oh! Joy!

      [Again joy shakes her head.]

      JOY. [Suddenly.] Don't!

      DICK. [Seizing her hand.] Oh, Joy! Can't you —

      JOY. [Drawing the hand away.] Oh! don't.

      DICK. [Bending his head.] It's – it's – so —

      JOY. [Quietly.] Don't, Dick!

      DICK. But I can't help it! It's too much for me, Joy, I must tell you —

      [MRS. GWYN is seen approaching towards the house.]

      JOY. [Spinning round.] It's Mother – oh, Mother! [She rushes at her.]

      [MRS. GWYN is a handsome creature of thirty-six, dressed in a muslin frock. She twists her daughter round, and kisses her.]

      MRS. GWYN. How sweet you look with your hair up, Joy! Who 's this? [Glancing with a smile at DICK.]

      JOY. Dick Merton – in my letters you know.

      [She looks at DICK as though she wished him gone.]

      MRS. GWYN. How do you do?

      DICK. [Shaking hands.] How d 'you do? I think if you'll excuse me – I'll go in.

      [He goes uncertainly.]

      MRS. GWYN. What's the matter with him?

      JOY. Oh, nothing! [Hugging her.] Mother! You do look such a duck. Why did you come by the towing-path, was n't it cooking?

      MRS. GWYN. [Avoiding her eyes.] Mr. Lever wanted to go into Mr. Henty's.

      [Her manner is rather artificially composed.]

      JOY. [Dully.] Oh! Is he-is he really coming here, Mother?

      MRS. GWYN. [Whose voice has hardened just a little.] If Aunt Nell's got a room for him – of course – why not?

      JOY. [Digging her chin into her mother's shoulder.]

      [Why couldn't he choose some day when we'd gone? I wanted you all to myself.]

      MRS. GWYN. You are a quaint child – when I was your age —

      JOY. [Suddenly looking up.] Oh! Mother, you must have been a chook!

      MRS. GWYN. Well, I was about twice as old as you, I know that.

      JOY. Had you any – any other offers before you were married, Mother?

      MRS.

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