rather important to say to you, you must prepare yourselves for a shock—I—I——  (He dabs his eyes with his handkerchief.)

Mrs. Dermott. What on earth is it, Danny?

Daniel. I—I——  (Another dab.)

Sylvia. Oh, uncle, tell us.

Daniel. I—er—it's this. I consulted my doctor just before I sailed.

Mrs. Dermott. Yes?

Daniel. He—he gave me just three years to live.

Mrs. Dermott. Danny, what do you mean?

Daniel (firmly). It's true—three years, he said.

Mrs. Dermott. It's the most awful thing. Tell us why—what's the matter with you? (Quickly.)

Daniel (rather staggered). The matter with me?

Mrs. Dermott. Yes, of course, you must see a specialist at once.

Daniel (pulling himself together dramatically). No specialist in the world could ever do me any good.

Mrs. Dermott. Well, what is it? For God's sake tell us!

Daniel (takes big breath). Sleeping sickness! (Smiles broadly at Mrs. Dermott.)

Mrs. Dermott. What!! (They all move.)

Daniel. Yes, it's frightfully prevalent out there.

Mrs. Dermott. Oh, Danny, I hope its not infectious.

Oliver. Sleeping sickness! By Jove!

Daniel. Yes, I simply daren't go to sleep without an alarm clock.

Mrs. Dermott. Danny darling, it's all too dreadful—I can't believe it.

Bobbie (rising). But, uncle, I thought sleeping sickness polished you off in one night.

Daniel (embarrassed). So it does, but that one night won't happen to me for three years. The doctor says so. He knows. You see I've got it internally or something.

Mrs. Dermott (firmly). You must never go back there—you shall stay with us until—until—the end——

(She breaks down, sobs on Daniel's shoulder.)

Sylvia (goes behind Chesterfield). Oh, mother darling, don't cry. (She looks at Daniel rather angrily.)

Daniel (rising). I'm sorry I have upset you, Anne. But I have told you this to-day with a purpose in my mind. (Moving to C.)

Oliver. A purpose?

Daniel (L. of arm-chair). Yes, I have a few words to say to you all—words which, though they may sound a little mercenary, are in reality prompted by very deep feeling.

Mrs. Dermott. Poor Danny.

Daniel. Ssh! (waves her to silence). It may seem to all of you "banal" in the extreme to talk of money on an occasion such as this, but believe me, it's best to get it over. I came over to England this time, as I have said, with a purpose—one might almost say a double purpose. Firstly, to comfort my sister, your dear mother, in her hour of—er—tribulation. (He pauses.) If you would just say "yes" or "quite so" whenever I pause, it would help me enormously.

Sylvia. All right, we will.

Daniel. Thank you, you are a good girl. Where was I?

Bobbie. Tribulation.

Evangeline. Hour of tribulation (in his tone.)

Daniel.  ——hour of tribulation. (He pauses.)

Daniel. I thank you. And secondly, to feast my eyes, perhaps for the last time on earth, upon you children—also to talk to you seriously, for after all, you're my only relatives in the world.

Daniel. I am as you may have guessed, a wealthy man——

Everyone (eagerly). Yes, yes! (Movement from all.)

Daniel. And out there (he nods his head descriptively) we don't get much chance of spending our money——

Daniel. And now I come to the point. At the end of three years I shall be no more.

Evangeline. Quite so!

Others. Sh!!

(Mrs. Dermott sniffs.)

Daniel. Bear up, Anne; we must all die sometime.

Mrs. Dermott. Yes, but not of sleeping sickness. It's so horrible. Anything else—but not sleeping sickness.

Daniel. I believe it is very comfortable, but that is neither here nor there. What I was going to say was this, I am a firm believer in the old-fashioned laws of entail. I have no patience with this modern way of dividing up legacies between large numbers of people——

Sylvia (with interest). Yes, yes?

Bobbie (with equal interest). Quite so!

Daniel. When I pass into the great beyond (Mrs. Dermott sniffs. He is obviously rather pleased with that remark, so he repeats it)—pass into the great beyond, I intend to leave the whole bulk of my fortune to the one of you who has made good——

Oliver. How do you mean "Made good"?

Daniel. I mean make good your position in the world, justify your existence, carve for yourself a niche in the Temple of Fame——  (Turning R.)

Bobbie (very quickly and brightly). Yes, yes?

Daniel (turns, sharply). That was entirely unnecessary, I didn't pause.

Bobbie. Sorry.

(They are all self-conscious as he addresses them.)

Daniel. What is the use of idling through life, frittering away your youth, I repeat, frittering away your youth, when you might be working to achieve some great and noble end? (Oliver embarrassed) You, Oliver, you might in time be a great inventor, and know all about the insides of the most complicated machines. You, Evangeline (Evangeline rises, poses by fireplace, one hand on mantel. Joyce laughs—she pulls her hair), might develop into a great poetess; your mother tells me that you already write verses about the moonlight. They all start like that, only unfortunately some of