The Red House Mystery and Other Novels. A. A. Milne
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Название: The Red House Mystery and Other Novels
Автор: A. A. Milne
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Контркультура
isbn: 9781456614010
isbn:
BAXTER (_moving up_ L. _into the inner room_). None the less, the fact would be disturbing.
(DEVENISH _with a wink at_ BELINDA _crosses in front of her and warms his hands at the fire_. BELINDA _watches_ BAXTER _over the back of the Chesterfield_.)
I have never yet considered myself seriously as a step-father. (_Moving round the refectory table_.) I don't think I am going too far if I say that to some extent I have been deceived in this matter. (_He comes down to behind the_ C. _table_.)
BELINDA (_reproachfully_). And so have I. I thought you loved me.
DEVENISH (_sympathetically_). Yes, yes.
BELINDA (_turning to him suddenly_). And Mr. Devenish too.
BAXTER (_moving to_ BELINDA). Er----
DEVENISH. Er----
(_They stand before her guiltily and have nothing to say_.)
BELINDA (_with a shrug_). Well, I shall have to marry somebody else, that's all.
BAXTER (_moving to below table_). Who? Who?
BELINDA. I suppose Mr. Robinson. After all, if I am Delia's mother, and Mr. Baxter says that Mr. Robinson's her father, it's about time we _were_ married.
DEVENISH (_eagerly_). Mrs. Tremayne, what fools we are! He _is_ your husband all the time!
BELINDA. Yes.
BAXTER (_moving up to the_ R. _of_ BELINDA). You've had a husband all the time?
BELINDA (_apologetically_). I lost him; it wasn't my fault.
BAXTER. Really, this is very confusing. I don't know where I am. I gather--I am to gather, it seems, that you are no longer eligible as a possible wife?
BELINDA. I am afraid not, Mr. Baxter.
BAXTER. But this is very confusing--(_moving towards the swing doors_)--this is very disturbing to a man of my age. For weeks past I have been regarding myself as a--a possible benedict. I have--ah--taken steps. (_Back to the_ L. _end of the_ C. _table_.) Only this morning, in writing to my housekeeper, I warned her that she might hear at any moment a most startling announcement.
DEVENISH (_cheerfully_). Oh, that's all right. That might only mean that you were getting a new bowler-hat.
BAXTER (_dropping down_ L.C. _a few steps--suddenly_). Ah, and what about you, sir? How is it that you take this so lightly? (_Triumphantly_.) I have it. It all becomes clear to me. You have transferred your affections to her daughter!
DEVENISH. Oh, I say, Baxter, this is very crude.
BELINDA. And why should he not, Mr. Baxter? (_Softly_.) He has made me very happy.
BAXTER (_staggered_). He has made you happy, Mrs. Tremayne!
BELINDA. Very happy.
BAXTER (_thoughtfully_). Oh! Oh ho! Oh ho! (_He takes a turn up the room into the inner room, muttering to himself_. BELINDA _kneels and watches him over the back of the Chesterfield. Then he comes down again to her_ R. _side_.) Mrs. Tremayne, I have taken a great resolve. (_Solemnly_.) I also will make you happy. (_Thumping his heart_.) I also will woo Miss Delia.
BELINDA. Oh!
DEVENISH. Look here, Baxter--
BAXTER (_suddenly crossing and seizing_ DEVENISH'S _arm and pulling him towards the siding doors up_ R. _between the Chesterfield and the table_). Come, we will seek Miss Delia together.
(BELINDA _seizes_ DEVENISH'S _hand as he is passing and he, clinging to it, nearly pulls her off the Chesterfield. She is very amused_.)
It may be that she will send us upon another quest in which I shall again be victorious.
(BELINDA _releases her hand and slips down into the Chesterfield. Tempestuously_.)
Come, I say--
(_He marches the resisting_ DEVENISH _to the swing doors_.)
Let us put it to the touch, to win or lose it all.
DEVENISH (_turning and appealing to_ BELINDA). Please!
BELINDA (_gently_). Mr. Baxter... Harold.
(BAXTER _stops and turns round_.)
You are too impetuous. I think that as Delia's mother--
BAXTER (_coming down_ R. _to the foot of the_ C. _table_). Your pardon, Mrs. Tremayne. In the intoxication of the moment I am forgetting. (_Formally_.) I have the honour to ask your permission to pay my addresses--(_Moves to chair_ L. _of table_.)
BELINDA. No, no, I didn't mean that. But, as Delia's mother, I ought to warn you that she is hardly fitted to take the place of your housekeeper. She is not very domesticated.
BAXTER (_indignantly_). Not domesticated? (_Sits_ L. _of table_.) Why, did I not hear her tell her father at dinner that she had arranged all the flowers?
BELINDA. There are other things than flowers.
DEVENISH (_on_ BAXTER'S R., _behind the table_). Bed-socks, for instance, Baxter.
(BAXTER _is annoyed_.)
It's a very tricky thing airing bed-socks. I am sure your house-keeper--
BAXTER (_silencing_ DEVENISH). Mrs. Tremayne, she will learn. The daughter of such a mother... I need say no more.
BELINDA. Oh, thank you. But there is something else, Mr. Baxter. You are not being quite fair to yourself. In starting out upon this simultaneous wooing, you forget that Mr. Devenish has already had his turn--(DEVENISH _tries to stop her_. BAXTER _turns round and nearly catches him_.)--this morning alone. You should have yours ... alone ... too.
DEVENISH. Oh, I say!
BAXTER. Yes, yes, you are right. I must introduce myself first as a suitor. I see that. (_Rising, to_ DEVENISH.) You stay here; _I_ will go alone into the garden, and--(_Moving below table and up to the swing doors_.)
BELINDA. It is perhaps a little cold out of doors for people of ... of our age, Mr. Baxter. Now, in the library--
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