The Red House Mystery and Other Novels. A. A. Milne
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shoulder to_ MR. ROBINSON, _if he were there, and she were_ BETTY)--"please!" (_And the abandoned woman goes in to tea_.)
CURTAIN
ACT II
_It is morning in_ BELINDA'S _hall, a low-roofed, oak-beamed place, comfortably furnished as a sitting-room. There is an inner and an outer front-door, both of which are open. Up_ C. _is a door leading to a small room where hats and coats are kept. A door on the_ L. _leads towards the living-rooms_.
DEVENISH _enters from up_ L. _at back, passes the windows of the inner room and crosses to the porch. He rings the electric bell outside, then enters through the swing doors_ R.C. BETTY _enters_ R. _and moves up at back of settee_ R. _to_ DEVENISH _by the swing doors. He is carrying a large bunch of violets and adopts a very aesthetic attitude_.
BETTY. Good morning, sir.
DEVENISH. Good morning. I am afraid this is an unceremonious hour for a call, but my sense of beauty urged me hither in defiance of convention.
BETTY. Yes, sir.
DEVENISH (_holding up his bouquet to_ BETTY). See, the dew is yet lingering upon them; how could I let them wait until this afternoon?
BETTY. Yes, sir; but I think the mistress is out.
DEVENISH. They are not for your mistress; they are for Miss Delia.
BETTY. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. If you will come in, I'll see if I can find her. (_She crosses to the door_ R. _and goes away to find_ DELIA, _dosing the door after her_.)
(DEVENISH _tries a number of poses about the room for himself and hit bouquet. He crosses below the table_ C. _and sits_ L. _of it and is about to place his elbow on the table when he finds the toy dog which has been placed there is in his way. He removes it to the centre of the table and then leans with his elbow on table and finds this pose unsuitable so he crosses to above the fireplace and leans against the upper portico, resting on his elbow which slips and nearly prostrates him. He then crosses up to_ L. _of the cupboard door at back centre and leans on his elbow against the wall_.)
(_Enter_ DELIA _from the door_ R.)
DELIA (_shutting the door and going to_ DEVENISH). Oh, good morning, Mr. Devenish.
[Illustration :]
(DEVENISH _kisses her hand_.)
I'm afraid my--er--aunt is out.
DEVENISH. I know, Miss Delia, I know.
DELIA. She'll be so sorry to have missed you. It is her day for you, isn't it?
DEVENISH. Her day for me?
DELIA. Yes; Mr. Baxter generally comes to-morrow, doesn't he?
DEVENISH (_jealously_). Miss Delia, if our friendship is to progress at all, it can only be on the distinct understanding that I take no interest whatever (_coming to back of table_ C.) in Mr. Baxter's movements.
DELIA (_moving down_ R. _a little_). Oh, I'm so sorry; I thought you knew. What lovely flowers! Are they for my aunt?
DEVENISH. To whom does one bring violets? To modest, shrinking, tender youth.
DELIA. I don't think we have anybody here like that.
DEVENISH (_with a bow and holding out the violets to her_). Miss Delia, they are for you.
DELIA (_smelling and taking violets_). Oh, how nice of you! But I'm afraid I oughtn't to take them from you under false pretences; I don't shrink.
DEVENISH. A fanciful way of putting it, perhaps. They are none the less for you.
DELIA. Well, it's awfully kind of you. (_Puts flowers down. Then she moves up to the cupboard. He follows on her_ L. _and opens the door_.) I'm afraid I'm not a very romantic person. (_Turning to him in cupboard doorway_.) Aunt Belinda does all the romancing in our family.
DEVENISH. Your aunt is a very remarkable woman.
DELIA. She is. Don't you dare to say a word against her. (_Takes up a vase from a chair in cupboard and shakes it as if draining it_.)
DEVENISH. My dear Miss Delia, nothing could be further from my thoughts. Why, am I not indebted to her for that great happiness which has come to me in these last few days?
DELIA (_surprised_). Good gracious! and I didn't know anything about it. (_Coming down to_ R. _of table with vase_.) But what about poor Mr. Baxter?
DEVENISH (_stiffly, crossing over to fireplace, very annoyed_). I must beg that Mr. Baxter's name be kept out of our conversation.
DELIA (_going up to table behind Chesterfield up_ L.). But I thought Mr. Baxter and you were such friends.
(DELIA _takes water carafe from the table and smiles at_ DEVENISH-- _which he does not see_.)
Do tell me what's happened. (_Moving down to_ R. _of table_ C., _she sits and arranges the flowers_.) I seem to have lost myself.
DEVENISH (_coming to the back of_ C. _table and reclining on it_.) What has happened, Miss Delia, is that I have learnt at last the secret that my heart has been striving to tell me for weeks past. As soon as I saw that gracious lady, your aunt, I knew that I was in love. Foolishly I took it for granted that it was she for whom my heart was thrilling. How mistaken I was! Directly you came, you opened my eyes, and now----
DELIA. Mr. Devenish, you don't say you're proposing to me?
DEVENISH. I am. I feel sure I am. (_Leaning towards her_.) Delia, I love you.
DELIA. How exciting of you!
DEVENISH (_with a modest shrug_). It's nothing; I am a poet.
DELIA. You really want to marry me?
DEVENISH. Such is my earnest wish.
DELIA. But what about my aunt?
DEVENISH (_simply_). She will be my aunt-in-law.
DELIA. She'll be rather surprised.
DEVENISH. Delia, I will be frank with you. (_Sits_.) I admit that I made Mrs. Tremayne an offer of marriage.
DELIA (_excitedly_). You really did? Was it that first afternoon I came?
DEVENISH. Yes.
DELIA. Oh, I wish I'd been there!
DEVENISH (_with dignity, rising and moving to_ L. _of table_). It is not my custom to propose in the presence of a third party. It is true that on the occasion you mention a man called Baxter was on the lawn, but I regarded him no more than the old apple-tree or the flower- beds, or any other of the fixtures.
DELIA. What did she say?
DEVENISH. She accepted me conditionally.
DELIA. Oh, do tell me!
DEVENISH. It is rather an unhappy story. This man called Baxter in his vulgar way also made a proposal of marriage. Mrs. Tremayne was gracious enough to imply that she would marry whichever one of us fulfilled a certain condition.
DELIA. How sweet of her!
DEVENISH. It is my earnest hope, Miss Delia, that the man called Baxter will be the victor.