valign="middle">Mother!

(The girls rise.)

Mrs. Dermott (shaking her head sadly). Yes, we're ruined; we haven't a penny. (Moves to chair below table.)

Sylvia. Why didn't you tell us before?

Mrs. Dermott (sitting). I only knew it myself this morning, I had a letter from Tibbets; he's been through all the papers and things.

Evangeline. Father's papers?

Mrs. Dermott. I suppose so, dear. There wouldn't be any others, would there?

Bobbie (coming down). But mother, what did he say, how did he put it?

Mrs. Dermott. I really forget—but I know it worried me dreadfully.

(Joyce sits on form.)

Evangeline. And we literally haven't a penny?

Mrs. Dermott. Well, only fifteen hundred a year; it's almost as bad.

(Evangeline sits in armchair.)

Joyce. Shall we have to give up the house?

Mrs. Dermott. I'm afraid so, darling; you see there are taxes and rates and things. Tibbets knows all about it—he's coming down to-night.

Sylvia. Can't Uncle Daniel do anything?

(Bobbie sits on table.)

Mrs. Dermott. He's my only hope. I cabled to South America three weeks ago. I didn't know the worst then, but I felt I wanted some one to lean on—after all, his cheque was a great help.

Joyce. Is he very, very rich?

Mrs. Dermott. He must be, he's a bachelor, and he has a ranch and a mine and things.

Bobbie. Has he answered your cable?

Mrs. Dermott. No, but of course he may have been out prospecting or broncho-breaking or something when it arrived. They live such restless lives out there—oh, no, I don't think he'll fail me, he's my only brother.

Evangeline. I wonder how much he has got.

Mrs. Dermott. Perhaps Tibbets will know—we'll ask him.

Bobbie. Why, is he Uncle Daniel's lawyer as well?

Mrs. Dermott. No, dear, but you know lawyers are always clever at knowing other people's business—I shall never forget——

Bobbie. Yes—but mother, what will happen if he isn't rich, and doesn't help us after all?

Mrs. Dermott. I really don't know, darling. It's terribly upsetting, isn't it?

Joyce. It will be awful having to give up the house.

Mrs. Dermott. Well, Tibbets says we needn't for another two years. It's paid for until then or something.

Sylvia (sits on the Chesterfield). Thank heaven! What a relief!

Mrs. Dermott. But we shall have to be awfully careful. Oh, darlings (she breaks down), thank God I've got you. (Weeps on Bobbie's knee.)

Sylvia. Buck up mother, it isn't as bad as all that. After all, we can work.

Bobbie (without enthusiasm). Yes, we can work. (Moving from table to R.)

Evangeline. I shall write things, really artistic little fragments——

Bobbie. We want to make money, Vangy.

Mrs. Dermott. But, darlings, you know you can't make money unless you're Socialists and belong to Unions and things.

Evangeline. Well, I know I should make money in time. There's a great demand for really good stuff now.

Sylvia. Do you think yours is really good?

Evangeline. I'm sure it is.

(Mrs. Dermott reads a magazine.)

Bobbie. Well, God help the bad.

Evangeline (rising). Look here, Bobbie, I'm tired of your silly jeering at me. Just stop trying to be funny. (Moves to L.C.)

Bobbie (hotly). I realize the futility of endeavour when I see how funny others can be without trying (following her.)

Evangeline. Ill-bred little pip squeak!

Joyce (jumping up; firing). He's not a pip squeak. Fanny Harris says he's the most good-looking boy she's ever seen.

Evangeline. She can't have seen many then. (Moves to fireplace.)

Bobbie. Oh! Don't betray your jealousy of my looks, Evangeline. It's so degrading.

Evangeline. I tell you——

Mrs. Dermott. Children, stop quarelling at once. I think it's most inconsiderate of you under the circumstances.

(Bobbie sits on table back to audience. There is silence for a moment.
Enter Griggs from hall with a telegram.)

Griggs. For you, madam.

(All show an interest.)

Mrs. Dermott (taking it). Thank you, Griggs. (She opens it and reads it.) There is no answer, Griggs.

(Exit Griggs, r.)

My dears!

Joyce. What is it, mother, quick?

Mrs. Dermott (reading). Arrive this afternoon—about tea time, Daniel.

Sylvia. Uncle Daniel!

Evangeline. In England!

Mrs. Dermott. I suppose so. It was handed in at Charing Cross.

Bobbie. What luck! (Gets off table.)

Mrs. Dermott. We're saved—oh, my darlings! (She breaks down again.)

Joyce. He may not have any money after all.

Mrs. Dermott. He'd never have got across so quickly if he hadn't. (She sniffs.) Oh, it's too, too wonderful—I have not seen him for six years.

Bobbie. As a matter of fact it is jolly decent of him to be so prompt.

Mrs. Dermott. Where's Oliver? He ought to be here to welcome him too.

Bobbie (c.). Oliver has gone for a brisk walk, to keep fit he said, as if it made any difference whether he kept fit or not.

Mrs. Dermott. It makes a lot of difference, dear. He is the athletic one of the family. (Bobbie is annoyed.) I don't like the way you speak of him, Bobbie. We can't all compose songs and be brilliant. You must try and cultivate a little toleration for others, darling. (Oliver passes window from l.) Oliver is a great comfort to me. Tibbets only said——

Evangeline (glancing out of the window). Here he is, anyhow. Who's going to tell him the news?

Mrs. Dermott (rising, goes to stairs).