Belinda: An April Folly in Three Acts Part 6

BELINDA (_happily_). O-oh! You've got such different ways of putting things. How can I choose between you?

DEVENISH. Then you will marry one of us?

BELINDA. You know I really _oughtn't_ to.

BAXTER. I don't see why not.

BELINDA. Well, there's just a little difficulty in the way.

DEVENISH. What is it? I will remove it. For you I could remove anything --yes, even Baxter. (_He looks at_ BAXTER, _who is sitting more solidly than ever in his chair_.)

BELINDA. And anyhow I should have to choose between you.

DEVENISH (_in a whisper_), choose me.

BAXTER (_stiffly_). Mrs. Tremayne does not require any prompting. A fair field and let the best man win.

DEVENISH (_going across to and slapping the astonished_ BAXTER _on the back_). Aye, let the best man win! Well spoken, Baxter.

(BAXTER _is very annoyed. To_ BELINDA _and going back to her_ L.) Send us out into the world upon some knightly quest, lady, and let the victor be rewarded.

BAXTER. I--er--ought to say that I should be unable to go very far. I have an engagement to speak at Newcastle on the 2lst.

DEVENISH. Baxter, I will take no unfair advantage of you. Let the beard of the Lord Mayor of Newcastle be the talisman that my lady demands; I am satisfied.

BAXTER. This sort of thing is entirely contrary to my usual mode of life, but I will not be outfaced by a mere boy. (_Rising_.) I am prepared. (_Going to her_.)

DEVENISH. Speak, lady.

BELINDA (_speaking in a deep, mysterious voice_). Gentlemen, ye put wild thoughts into my head. In sooth, I _am_ minded to send ye forth upon a quest that is pa.s.sing strange. Know ye that there is a maid journeyed hither, hight Robinson--whose--(_in her natural voice_) what's the old for aunt?

BAXTER (_hopefully_). Mother's sister.

BELINDA. You know, I think I shall have to explain this in ordinary language. You won't mind very much, will you, Mr. Devenish?

DEVENISH. It is the spirit of this which matters, not the language which clothes it.

BELINDA. Oh, I'm so glad you think so. Well, now about Miss Robinson.

She's my niece and she's just come to stay with me, and--poor girl-- she's lost her father. Absolutely lost him. He disappeared ever such a long time ago, and poor Miss Robinson--Delia--naturally wants to find him. Poor girl! she _can't_ think where he is.

DEVENISH (_n.o.bly_). I will find him.

BELINDA. Oh, thank you, Mr. Devenish; Miss Robinson would be so much obliged.

BAXTER. Yes--er--but what have we to go upon? Beyond the fact that his name is Robinson--

BELINDA. I shouldn't go on _that_ too much. You see, he may easily have changed it by now. He was never very much of a Robinson. Nothing to do with Peter or any of those.

DEVENISH. I will find him.

BAXTER (_with a look of annoyance at_ DEVENISH). Well, can you tell us what he's like?

BELINDA. Well, it's such a long time since I saw him. (_Looking down modestly_.) Of course, I was quite a girl then. The only thing I know for certain is that he has a mole on his left arm about here. (_She indicates a spot just below the elbow_. BAXTER _examines it closely_.)

DEVENISH (_folding his arms and looking n.o.bly upwards_). I will find him.

BAXTER. I am bound to inform you, Mrs. Tremayne, that even a trained detective could not give you very much hope in such a case. However, I will keep a look-out for him, and, of course, if--

DEVENISH. Fear not, lady, I will find him.

BAXTER (_annoyed_). Yes, you keep on saying that, but what have you got to go on?

DEVENISH (_grandly_). Faith! The faith which moves mountains.

BELINDA. Yes, and this is only just one small mole-hill, Mr. Baxter.

BAXTER. Yes, but still--

BELINDA. S'sh! here is Miss Robinson.

(BAXTER _takes up his hat and moves below the deck-chair to_ R.

_to meet_ DELIA.)

If Mr. Devenish will hold the hammock while I alight--we don't want an accident--

(DELIA _comes out of the house_.)

--I can introduce you. (_He helps her to get out, holding the hammock_.) Thank you. Delia darling (DELIA _moves down_ R.) this is Mr. Baxter,--and Mr. Devenish. My niece, Miss Robinson--

(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 sn.i.g.g.e.rs 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.