Chapter I: Front Matter

Samuel French

I'LL LEAVE IT TO YOU

A LIGHT COMEDY

NOEL COWARD

"I'LL LEAVE IT TO YOU"

A LIGHT COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

BY

NOEL COWARD

SAMUEL FRENCH

LONDON

NEW YORK TORONTO SYDNEY HOLLYWOOD

[The following text concerning the copyright and royalties was printed at the beginning of the book. It is included here for historical interest only. (note of transcriber)]

Copyright 1920 by Samuel French Ltd

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ISBN 0 573 01199 0

To

MY MOTHER

"I'LL LEAVE IT TO YOU"

Produced on Wednesday, July 21, 1920, at the New Theatre, London, with the following Cast of Characters:--

MRS. DERMOTT _Miss Kate Cutler_.
OLIVER } { _Mr. Douglas Jefferies_.
EVANGELINE } { _Miss Muriel Pope_.
SYLVIA }(Her Children){ _Miss Stella Jesse_.
BOBBIE } { _Mr. Noel Coward_.
JOYCE } { _Miss Moya Nugent_.
DANIEL DAVIS (Her Brother) _Mr. E. Holman Clark_.
MRS. CROMBIE _Miss Lois Stuart_.
FAITH CROMBIE _Miss Esme Wynne_.
GRIGGS (Butler) _Mr. David Clarkson_.

The action of the play takes place in MULBERRY MANOR, MRS. DERMOTT'S house, a few miles out of London.

Eighteen months elapse between acts one and two, and one night between acts two and three.

"I'LL LEAVE IT TO YOU"

_A plan of the stage of the New Theatre, London, set for the play is given at the end of the book._

SCENE.--_The Hall of Mulberry Manor. All the furniture looks very comfortable. Through the window can be seen a glimpse of a snowy garden; there is a log fire. The light is a little dim, being late afternoon. Seated on the table swinging her legs is_ JOYCE, _she is attired in a fur coat and goloshes, very little else can be seen, except a pink healthy looking young face._ SYLVIA _is seated on the Chesterfield_ R. _She is twenty-one and exceedingly pretty. It is about five days before Christmas._

JOYCE (_brightly_). My feet are simply soaking.

SYLVIA (_sewing_). Why on earth don't you go and change them? You'll catch cold.

(BOBBIE _enters_ R. _He is a slim, bright-looking youth of twenty._)

JOYCE. I don't mind if I do. (_Laughs._) Colds are fun.

BOBBIE. She loves having a fuss made of her, beef tea--chicken--jelly with whipped cream--and fires in her bedroom, little Sybarite.

JOYCE. So do you.

BOBBIE (_comes_ C.). No, I don't; whenever my various ailments confine me to my bed, I chafe--positively chafe at the terrible inactivity. I want to be up and about, shooting, riding, cricket, football, judo, the usual run of manly sports.

SYLVIA. Knowing you for what you are--lazy, luxurious----

BOBBIE (_pained_). Please, please, please, not in front of the child. (JOYCE _kicks_). It's demoralizing for her to hear her idolized brother held up to ridicule.

JOYCE. You're not my idolized brother at all--Oliver is. (_Turning away, pouting._)

BOBBIE (_seated_ R. _on Chesterfield, sweetly_). If that were really so, dear, I know you have much too kind a heart to let me know it.

SYLVIA. What is the matter with you this afternoon, Bobbie--you are very up in the air about something.

(JOYCE _takes her coat off, puts on back of chair_ R. _of table_).

BOBBIE (_rising and sitting on club fender_). Merely another instance of the triumph of mind over matter; in this case a long and healthy walk was the matter. I went into the lobby to put on my snow boots and then--as is usually the case with me--my mind won. I thought of tea, crumpets and comfort. Oliver has gone without me, he simply bursts with health and extraordinary dullness. Personally I shall continue to be delicate and interesting.

SYLVIA (_seriously_). You may _have_ to work, Bobbie.

BOBBIE. Really, Sylvia, you do say the most awful things, remember Joyce is only a school-girl, she'll be quite shocked.

JOYCE. We work jolly hard at school, anyhow.

BOBBIE. Oh, no, you don't. I've read the modern novelists, and I _know_; all you do is walk about with arms entwined, and write poems of tigerish adoration to your mistresses. It's a beautiful existence.

JOYCE. You are a silly ass. (_Picks up magazine._)

SYLVIA. It's all very well to go on fooling Bobbie, but _really_ we shall have to pull ourselves together a bit. Mother's very worried, as you know, money troubles are perfectly beastly, and she hasn't told us nearly all. I do so hate her to be upset, poor darling.

BOBBIE. What can we do? (_Sits_ L. _end of Chesterfield._ JOYCE _puts down magazine and listens._)

SYLVIA. Think of a way to make money.

BOBBIE. It's difficult now that the war is over.

SYLVIA. That's cheap wit, dear; also it's the wrong moment for it. (JOYCE _giggles._)

BOBBIE. It's always the wrong moment for cheap wit, admitting for one moment that it was, which it wasn't.

JOYCE. Oh, do shut up, you make my head go round.

(_Enter_ EVANGELINE _downstairs; she is tall and almost beautiful;
she carries a book in her hand._)

BOBBIE (_turning_). Oh, Vangy, do come and join us; we're on the verge of a congress.

EVANGELINE. I must read some more Maeterlinck. (_Posing._)

BOBBIE. You mean you must let us see you reading Maeterlinck.

EVANGELINE (_goes to him, back of Chesterfield, touches his hair._) Try not to be so irritating, Bobbie dear; just because you don't happen to appreciate good literature, it's very small and narrow to laugh at people who do.

SYLVIA. But seriously, Vangy, we are rather worried (EVANGELINE _moves_) about mother; she's been looking harassed for days.

EVANGELINE (_sitting in armchair_). What about?

SYLVIA. Money, money, money! Haven't you realized that! Uncle Daniel sent a pretty substantial cheque from South America (_all nod_) that helped things on a bit after Father's death, but that must be gone by now--and mother won't say how much father left.

JOYCE. Perhaps she doesn't know.

BOBBIE. She must know now, he's been dead nearly six months--inconsiderate old beast!

SYLVIA. Bobbie, you're not to talk about father like that. I won't have it; after all----

BOBBIE. After all what?--He was perfectly rotten to mother, and never came near her for four years before his death. Why should we be charming and reverent about him just because he's our father. When I saw him I hated him, and his treatment of mum hasn't made me like him any better, I can tell you.

EVANGELINE. But still, Bobbie, he was _our father_, and mother was fond of him--(BOBBIE. Ha!)--once, anyhow there's nothing to be gained by running him down.

SYLVIA. The point is, have we enough money to keep on as we are, or haven't we?

JOYCE (_quickly_). The only one who knows is mother, and she won't say.

SYLVIA. We haven't asked her yet; we'll make her say. Where is she?

BOBBIE. Up in her room, I think.

SYLVIA. Go and fetch her down. (_Puts sewing on form._)

BOBBIE. What, now?

SYLVIA. Yes, _now_.

BOBBIE. Oh, no!

SYLVIA AND EVANGELINE. Yes, go along.

BOBBIE. Righto! we'll tackle her straight away.

(_Exit_ BOBBIE _upstairs._)

JOYCE (_goes to_ EVANGELINE). Do--do you think we may have to leave this house?

SYLVIA. I don't know.

JOYCE. I should simply hate that. (_Sits on right end of form._)

EVANGELINE. So should we all--it would be miserable.

SYLVIA. Think how awful it must be for mother.

JOYCE. I say, don't you think Oliver ought to be here--if anything's going to happen? He's the eldest.

SYLVIA. He wouldn't be any help. He cares for nothing but the inside of motors and the outside of Maisie Stuart; he's not observant enough to know her inside.

EVANGELINE. What a perfectly horrible thing to say!

SYLVIA. Well, it's absolutely true; he thinks she's everything that's good and noble, when all the time she's painfully ordinary and a bit of a cat; what fools men are.

JOYCE (_blase_). One can't help falling in love.

(_Enter_ MRS. DERMOTT _downstairs followed by_ BOBBIE; _she is a pretty
little woman with rather a plaintive manner._)

MRS. DERMOTT (_as she descends_). Bobbie says you all want to talk to me! What's the matter, darlings? (_Comes_ C.)

SYLVIA. That's what we want to know, mum; come on now, out with it. You've been looking worried for ever so long.

(BOBBIE _stays at foot of stairs._)

MRS. DERMOTT. I don't know what you mean, Sylvia dear I----

SYLVIA. Now listen to me, mother; you've got something on your mind, that's obvious to any one; you're not a bit good at hiding your feelings. Surely we're all old enough to share the worry, whatever it is.

MRS. DERMOTT. (_kissing her_). Silly old darlings--it's true I have been a little worried--you see, we're ruined.

SYLVIA. }
EVANGELINE. } Mother!
BOBBIE. }
JOYCE. }

(_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_). Well, I've no time now, I must change my dress for Daniel. Turn on the lights, Bobbie; make everything look as cosy and festive as you can. (_On stairs._) Run into the kitchen, Joyce dear, and tell cook to make an extra supply of hot cakes for tea. I'm sure Daniel will love them after being so long abroad and living on venison and bully beef and things. (_Ascending, then turns._) You will all wash before tea, won't you, darlings? It's always so important to make a good first impression, and he hasn't seen any of you since you've been grown up. (_Glances in mirror._) Oh! look at my face, I look quite happy now.

(_Exit_ MRS. DERMOTT _upstairs._)

SYLVIA. I think mother is rather mixing up North and South America; they don't have such awful hardships where Uncle Daniel comes from.

(_Enter_ OLIVER _from hall; he is a thick-set, determined-looking man
of twenty-five._)

OLIVER. Hallo! (_Crossing to table_, L.C.)

JOYCE (_going to him, excitedly_). Something wonderful has happened, Oliver.

OLIVER. What is it?

JOYCE. We're ruined. I've just got to go and order extra teacakes. Isn't it all thrilling?

(_Exit_ JOYCE _into hall._)

OLIVER. What on earth's she talking about?

SYLVIA. It's perfectly true. We haven't any money, but Uncle Daniel's coming to-day, and we're sure he'll help us.

OLIVER (_dazed_). Haven't any money, but----

EVANGELINE (_at fire_). Mother's been rather vague as usual, but we gather that we're practically penniless, and that we shall have to give up the house after two years unless something happens.

SYLVIA. Luckily Uncle Daniel is happening--this afternoon. Mother's just had a wire from him--he's certain to be rich, mother says.

(BOBBIE _leaning against stairs._)

OLIVER. Why?

SYLVIA. Because he's a bachelor, and has been living in South America for five years.

BOBBIE. Six years.

SYLVIA. Five years.

BOBBIE. Six years--mother said so.

SYLVIA. No, she didn't----

OLIVER. Well, it doesn't matter. How does mother know we're penniless?

BOBBIE (_coming_ C.). She heard from Tibbets this morning, he's coming down to-night.

OLIVER (_sinking into chair_). By Jove, what a muddle!

(JOYCE _re-enters, crosses to chair_ L.C.,
_takes coat and exits up stairs._)

SYLVIA. It's all quite clear when you think it out.

BOBBIE (C.). We've all got to wash and make ourselves look clean and sweet for Uncle Daniel. Your collar's filthy; you'd better go and change it quickly. He may be here at any minute.

SYLVIA. Turn on the lights, Bobbie--and do let's hurry.

(BOBBIE _turns up the lights and goes upstairs followed by_ OLIVER.
EVANGELINE _goes up slowly after them._)

OLIVER. What a muddle! What a muddle! (_As he crosses to stairs._)

EVANGELINE (_following him_). What a muddle! What a muddle! (_Turns on stairs._) Shall I put on my emerald green tea gown? (_To_ SYLVIA.)

SYLVIA. No, dear; it's ever so much too old for you.

EVANGELINE (_piqued_). I don't think it's at all too old for me. I shall certainly put it on.

(_She disappears upstairs._ SYLVIA _is left alone. Suddenly there comes
a loud peal at the front door bell._ SYLVIA _sees some half-made
crepe-de-chine underclothes on form, takes them, hides them under
cushions on window seat_ L. _Draws curtains to window_ L., _then_
L.C. _as enter_ GRIGGS, _followed by_ UNCLE DANIEL _in an opulent-looking
fur coat--he is a tall, stoutish man of about forty-five._
SYLVIA _shrinks back by stairs._)

GRIGGS (_assisting him off with his coat_). If you will wait, sir, I'll tell Mrs. Dermott you are here.

DANIEL. Thank you. (_Goes round to fireplace, warms hands, turns._)

(GRIGGS _has meanwhile taken his coat into the lobby._ SYLVIA _creeps
cautiously from behind and goes towards stairs._ DANIEL _looks
round and sees her. He watches her in silence for a moment, as
she goes up a few stairs._)

Excuse me--have you been stealing anything?

SYLVIA (_jumping_). Oh, Uncle Daniel--I didn't want you to see me.

DANIEL. Why not?

SYLVIA. I wanted to change my frock and do my hair.

DANIEL. It looks quite charming as it is--I suppose you are Evangeline?

SYLVIA. No I'm not, I'm Sylvia. (_Coming to him._)

DANIEL (_below Chesterfield_). Sylvia! I didn't know there was a Sylvia.

SYLVIA (R.C., _laughing_). I was having concussion last time you were here, having cut my head open on a door scraper at school. Naturally you wouldn't remember me.

DANIEL. Oh, but I do now, you were the sole topic of conversation at lunch. How foolish of me to have let you slip my memory. Where are all the others?

SYLVIA. They're upstairs improving on the Almighty's conception of them as much as possible in your honour; I was just going to do the same when you caught me.

DANIEL. You looked extraordinarily furtive.

SYLVIA. And untidy. We've just been having a sort of family conference. It was very heating.

DANIEL. I think you might have waited for me--I'm a most important factor. What were you discussing?

SYLVIA. Oh--er--ways and means.

DANIEL. I see, it's as bad as that!

SYLVIA. But you wait until mother comes. She'll explain everything. I'll go and hurry her up. (_She goes up stairs._)

DANIEL. Don't leave me all alone. I'm a timid creature.

SYLVIA (_turns_). After all that Broncho busting! I don't think!

(_Exit_ SYLVIA _upstairs._)

DANIEL. Broncho busting! What on earth does she mean? (_He walks slowly to fireplace and stands with his back to it._)

(_Enter_ MRS. DERMOTT _down stairs. They meet_ C.)

MRS. DERMOTT. Danny! Danny! darling----

DANIEL (C.). Anne! (_He kisses her fondly._)

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, my dear, you have been away such a long time.

DANIEL (_he turns her round to_ R.). Well, this is splendid--you do look fit! Do you know I've often longed to be home. I've imagined winter afternoons just like this--with a nice crackly fire and tea and muffins in the grate. (_Pulling her on Chesterfield._)

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh well, they're not in the grate yet, dear, but they will be soon. I ordered a special lot because I knew you loved them.

(_He sits beside her; she is nearest the fire._)

MRS. DERMOTT. I can never thank you enough for sending the cheque, Danny.

DANIEL. Oh, rubbish.

MRS. DERMOTT. It was the greatest help in the world.

DANIEL. I started for home the very moment I heard you were in trouble; has everything been very, very trying?

MRS. DERMOTT. Only during the last few days. You see, George hadn't been near me for four years before he died, so it wasn't such a terrible shock as it might have been. Of course, he was my husband, and it was upsetting, but still----

DANIEL. He behaved like a beast to you, and----

MRS. DERMOTT. Well, he's dead now--but don't let's discuss my affairs. Tell me about yourself; what have you been doing?

DANIEL. That can wait. Considering that the sole object of my coming to England was to help you, I think we ought to concentrate. Tell me now, has he left you very badly off?

MRS. DERMOTT. Well, Tibbets says we're ruined, but you know what Tibbets is. Such a pessimist!

DANIEL. Tibbets?

MRS. DERMOTT. Yes, our lawyer, you know.

DANIEL. Do I? How much have you got?

MRS. DERMOTT. I think Tibbets said about fifteen hundred; of course we can't keep the house and family going on that, can we?

DANIEL. Of course we can't. What do the children intend to do?

MRS. DERMOTT. Well, they don't quite know, poor darlings.

DANIEL. Poor darlings! Is Oliver at home?

MRS. DERMOTT. Yes. He's going to be a barrister or an engineer. He's very vague about it, but has been learning Pelmanism, so I know he's going to be something.

DANIEL. I see. Bobbie?

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, Bobbie, he's so young. Of course, it's not his fault.

DANIEL. Naturally.

MRS. DERMOTT. He composes, you know--beautiful little songs,--mostly about moonlight. Evangeline writes the words. She is _very_ artistic, and----

DANIEL. What does Sylvia do?

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, she helps me.

DANIEL. In what way?

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh--er--she--well--she does the flowers, and comes calling with me, and she's _invaluable_ at jumble sales, when we have them.

DANIEL. And the youngest?

MRS. DERMOTT. Joyce? Oh, she's still at school--she's going to Roedean next year to be finished.

DANIEL. Finished? Oh, I see! Well! They sound a pretty hopeless lot.

MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, Danny, how can you be so horrid? Why, they're all darlings! You can't expect them to work. They've not been brought up to it.

DANIEL. I think it's about time they started.

(_Enter_ EVANGELINE _down stairs, followed by_ OLIVER, BOBBIE _and_
JOYCE. SYLVIA _comes last._)

MRS. DERMOTT (_rising, back to audience_). Here they are. Children this is Uncle Daniel.

(DANIEL _rises, stands_ L. _of Chesterfield._)

EVANGELINE (_gracefully embracing him_). I remember you quite well.

DANIEL. Splendid. Evangeline?

EVANGELINE. Yes, Evangeline. (_Crosses to fire, down stage._)

OLIVER (_shaking hands_). So do I. (_Moves to above_ EVANGELINE.)

BOBBIE (_shaking hands_). I don't remember you a bit, but I may later when we all start reminiscencing. (_Goes_ L.)

JOYCE (_kissing him_). We've been simply longing for you to come home.

DANIEL. Little Joyce----SPACELEFT(_Joyce moves to top of table_)

SYLVIA (_kissing him_). D'you know you haven't changed a bit since I last saw you!

(DANIEL _smiles at her._)

DANIEL. May I say that it gives me immeasurable joy to be here once more in the bosom of my family. (_Sits on Chesterfield._)

BOBBIE. We're not really your family, but never mind.

DANIEL. I don't. But I have looked forward to this moment through the long sun-scorched nights with the great dome of the sky above me--shapes have drifted out of the surrounding blackness and beckoned to me, crying "Home, home" in depressing voices. I have heard the sand-bug calling to its mate. "Home," it said, and bit me----

(SYLVIA _sits on arm of chair_, R.C.)

MRS. DERMOTT. Silly old darling, Danny. (_Sits_ R. _of Chesterfield_.)

JOYCE. What did you do out there, Uncle?

DANIEL. Lots of things--gold mining, ranching, auction----

BOBBIE. Auction? (_Leaning on table._)

MRS. DERMOTT. Is it a very wonderful life, Danny?

DANIEL. Occasionally--on good days.

BOBBIE. How do you mean, good days?

DANIEL (_rather embarrassed_). Well--er--just good days.

MRS. DERMOTT. Do come and sit down, all of you; you look so terribly restless.

(_They sit,_ OLIVER _on arm of Chesterfield,_ JOYCE _crosses to form_ R.,
EVANGELINE _on club-fender,_ BOBBIE _chair below table,_ SYLVIA
_arm-chair._)

DANIEL. I feel restless. It must be the home surroundings after all these years.

BOBBIE. I should love to go abroad.

DANIEL. It would make a man of you, my boy.

BOBBIE. I should simply loathe that.

DANIEL. So should I between ourselves, but still----. Oh, by the way, I--I have something rather important to say to you, you must prepare yourselves for a shock--I--I----SPACELEFT(_He dabs his eyes with his handkerchief._)

MRS. DERMOTT. What on earth is it, Danny?

DANIEL. I--I----SPACELEFT(_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.SPACELEFT----hour of tribulation. (_He pauses._)

SYLVIA. } Yes.
BOBBIE. } Quite so.

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.

SYLVIA. } Yes, yes.
BOBBIE. } Quite so.

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----

BOBBIE. } Quite so.
OLIVER. } No, no!

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----SPACELEFT(_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 them stay like it. (_She sits again._) You, Bobbie, you are artistic, too, you might without undue strain become a world famed composer, artist, actor. (BOBBIE _rises, moves down_ L., _posing as actor._) Sylvia, for you I foresee a marvellous career as a decorative designer. You already arrange flowers and jumble sales--and last, but not by any means least, little Joyce (JOYCE _hangs her head, polishes her nails_), now on the very threshold of life. What are you going to do with yourself? Sit at home and wait for a nice husband with mediocre prospects and perhaps an over-developed Adam's apple? Never, never! You too must rise and go forth--the world is calling to you. Do what you will. I can't think of a career for you at the moment, but no matter. I only want to impress upon you all the necessity of making good at something--make good, make good, make good! And the one I consider has done best for himself and the family name, to him--or her--I will bequeath every penny I possess. (_Goes up four stairs._)

OLIVER } (_rising and all talking at once_). But look here----
EVANGELINE.} Uncle dear, of course----
BOBBIE. } How in Heaven's name are we to----
SYLVIA. } Really I don't quite see----
JOYCE. } It's going to be very difficult----

(_All looking towards_ DANIEL, _the positions are now as follows:_
--DANIEL, _up four stairs._ MRS. DERMOTT _extreme_ R. SYLVIA _up_
R.C. OLIVER _down_ R.C. EVANGELINE _down_ C. JOYCE _up_ L.C..
BOBBIE _down_ L.)

DANIEL (_holding up his hand._) Please--couldn't you possibly speak one at a time? Sylvia? (_Motions to her._)

SYLVIA (_stepping forward_). What we want to know, uncle, is how on earth are we to start?

(_They all nod._)

DANIEL (_smiling benignly, arms outstretched_). I'll leave it to you!

_All turn to audience open-mouthed as the_ CURTAIN _descends._