The Red House Mystery and Other Novels. A. A. Milne

Chesterfield to the left end of it_.) And then you're coming to dinner again to-night.

      TREMAYNE (_eagerly and leaning over the Chesterfield_). Am I?

      BELINDA. Yes. Haven't you been asked?

      TREMAYNE (_going round the left end of the Chesterfield_). No, not a word.

      BELINDA. Yes, that's quite right; I remember now, I only thought of it this morning, so I couldn't ask you before, could I?

      TREMAYNE (_earnestly_). What made you think of it then?

      BELINDA (_romantically_). It was at the butcher's.

      TREMAYNE. Eh?

      BELINDA. There was one little lamb cutlet left over and sitting out all by itself, and there was nobody to love it. And I said to myself, suddenly, "I know, that will do for Mr. Robinson." (_Protaically_.) I do hope you like lamb?

      TREMAYNE (_sitting on her left side_). I adore it.

      BELINDA. Oh, I'm so glad I When I saw it sitting there I thought you'd love it. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more about the rest of the dinner, because I wouldn't tell Mr. Devenish, and I want to be fair.

      TREMAYNE (_jealously_). Who's Mr. Devenish?

      BELINDA. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here.

      TREMAYNE Is he in love with you too?

      BELINDA. Too? Oh, you mean Mr. Baxter?

      TREMAYNE (_rising and moving to fireplace_). Confound it, that's three!

      BELINDA (_innocently_). Three? (_She looks up at him and down again_.)

      TREMAYNE. Who is Mr. Baxter?

      BELINDA. Oh, haven't you met him? He's always coming here.

      TREMAYNE (_turning away and looking into fireplace_). Who is Mr. Baxter?

      (BAXTER _appears at cupboard doorway_. BELINDA _hears him and gives a startled look round. She signs to him to go back. BAXTER retreats immediately and closes door_.)

      BELINDA. Oh, he's a sort of statistician. Isn't that a horrid word to say? So stishany.

      TREMAYNE. What does he make statistics about?

      BELINDA. Oh (_giving a sly look round at cupboard door_), umbrellas and things. Don't let's talk about him.

      TREMAYNE. All right, then; (_going up to her jealously_) who is Mr. Devenish?

      BELINDA. Oh, he's a poet. (_She throws up her eyes and sighs deeply_.) Ah me!

      TREMAYNE. What does he write poetry about?

      (BELINDA _looks at him, and down again, and then at him again, and then down, then raises and drops her arms, and gives a little sigh--all of which means, "Can't you guess?"_)

      What does he write poetry about?

      BELINDA (_obediently_). He wrote "The Lute of Love and other Poems, by Claude Devenish."

      (TREMAYNE _is annoyed and turns away to the fireplace_.)

      The Lute of Love--(_To herself_.) I haven't been saying that lately. (_With great expression_.) The Lute of Love--the Lute. (_She pats her mouth back_.)

      TREMAYNE. And who is Mr. Devenish--!

      BELINDA (_putting her hand on his sleeve_). You'll let me know when it's my turn, won't you?

      TREMAYNE. Your turn?

      BELINDA. Yes, to ask questions. I love this game--it's just like clumps. (_She crosses her hands on her lap and waits for the next question_.)

      TREMAYNE. I beg your pardon. I--er--of course have no right to cross- examine you like this.

      BELINDA. Oh, do go on, I love it. (_With childish excitement_.) I've got my question ready.

      TREMAYNE (_smiling and going and sitting beside her again_). I think perhaps it _is_ your turn.

      BELINDA (_eagerly_). Is it really? (_He nods_.) Well then-- (_in a loud voice_)--who is Mr. Robinson?

      TREMAYNE (_alarmed_). What?

      BELINDA. I think it's a fair question. I met you three days ago and you told me you were staying at Mariton. Mariton. You can say it all right now, can't you?

      TREMAYNE. I think so.

      BELINDA (_coaxingly_). Just say it.

      TREMAYNE. Mariton.

      BELINDA (_clapping her hands_). Lovely! I don't think any of the villagers do it as well as that.

      TREMAYNE. Well?

      BELINDA (_looking very hard at TREMAYNE--he wonders whether she has discovered his identity_). Well, that was three days ago. You came the next day to see the garden, and you came the day after to see the garden, and you've come this morning--to see the garden; and you're coming to dinner to-night, and it's so lovely, we shall simply have to go into the garden afterwards. And all I know about you is that you haven't any relations called Robinson.

      TREMAYNE. What do I know about Mrs. Tremayne but that she has a relation called Robinson?

      BELINDA. And two dear friends called Devenish and Baxter.

      TREMAYNE (_rising--annoyed_). I was forgetting them. (_Crosses to below_ L. _end of_ C. _table_.)

      BELINDA (_to herself, with a sly look round at the cupboard_), I mustn't forget Mr. Baxter.

      TREMAYNE. But what does it matter? What would it matter if I knew nothing about you? (_Moving up to_ R. _end of Chesterfield and leaning over it_.) I know everything about you--everything that matters.

      BELINDA (_leaning back and closing her eyes contentedly_). Tell me some of them. TREMAYNE (_bending over her earnestly_). Belinda--

      BELINDA (_still with her eyes shut_). He's going to propose to me. I can feel it coming.

      TREMAYNE (_starting back_). Confound it! how many men _have_ proposed to you?

      BELINDA (_surprised_). Since when?

      TREMAYNE. Since your first husband proposed to you.

      BELINDA. Oh, I thought you meant this year. (_Sitting up_.) Well now, let me see. (_Slowly and thoughtfully_.) One. (_She pushes up her first finger_.) Two. (_She pushes up the second_.) Three. (_She pushes up the third finger, holds it there for a moment and then pushes it gently down again_.) No, I don't think that one ought to count really. (_She pushes up two more fingers and the thumb_.) Three, four, five--do you want the names or just the total?

      TREMAYNE (_moving up_ L. _and then over_ R.). This is horrible.

      BELINDA (_innocently_). But anybody can propose. Now if you'd asked how many I'd accepted--

      (_He turns sharply to her--annoyed_.)

      Let me see, where was I up to?

      (_He moves down_ R.)

      I shan't count yours, because I haven't really had it yet.

      (BETTY