MRS. DERMOTT (_tidying papers on form_). You mustn't talk like that, dear. After all they are our guests and Bobbie's friends, and we must be kind even if we don't like them very much. (_Picking up waste paper basket from the front of table._) I'm only worrying because darling Daniel may be hurt at our having strangers in the house when he arrives. JOYCE. Oh, Uncle Dan won't mind. He's probably used to face polar bears and things in his shack. EVANGELINE. But it seems hard luck to leave raging bears on one side of the Atlantic and meet Mrs. Crombie on the other. (JOYCE _goes into screams of laughter and then chokes._) MRS. DERMOTT (_anxiously_). Darling--do be careful. (_Drops papers and puts waste paper basket through window_ L.C. _Enter_ BOBBIE _downstairs._ MRS. DERMOTT _continues to tidy up room._) BOBBIE. What's the matter? EVANGELINE. Nothing much, only your crochets and quavers have sent our little ray of sunshine into a rapid decline. BOBBIE. Have you done it? JOYCE (_weakly_). The top treble thing's a little wobbly, but I'll ink it over afterwards. (MRS. DERMOTT _is tidying window seat._) BOBBIE (_kissing her hurriedly and loudly_). Thanks, you're a lamb. I'll try it now. EVANGELINE. Oh! Bobbie, don't try it now! BOBBIE. I shall. (_He goes to piano, then turns furiously._) Well, really it is the _limit_. Why can't Oliver keep his rotten engine in the shed. It will scratch all the polish. (_He takes the model off piano and bangs it on to the floor._) MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, Bobbie, don't break that thing. Oliver's _so_ proud of it. I can't think why. BOBBIE. Well, I wish he'd go and be proud of it somewhere else. Look here, three distinct scratches. MRS. DERMOTT. Never mind dear. Griggs will get them out with sandpaper or something. (BOBBIE _commences to play over the manuscript_ JOYCE _has just copied. Occasionally he stops and alters something with a pencil. No one takes any notice. The dialogue goes on just the same._) (_Coming down to_ EVANGELINE.) If you've nearly finished, Vangy dear, do put the typewriter away. It looks so untidy. EVANGELINE (_rather crossly, rising_). Of course I quite see that until my room's done, I shall never be able to do any work at all. (_Puts cover on typewriter, then pushes table up to back_ L.) MRS. DERMOTT. Don't be cross, darling. You know how worried I am over everything this morning. It's one long rush. EVANGELINE (_kissing her_). Sorry dear. I quite understand, only I must have this story sent to the _Clarion_ by Tuesday. If not, it won't be out until the August number. MRS. DERMOTT. You're a dear darling, and you work terribly hard. I only hope you won't overdo it. EVANGELINE. Oh no, these stories are only pot boilers. They just fill in the time until my next novel is ready. BOBBIE (_suddenly._). Listen, don't you think this is a ripping change? (_He plays a few chords. He then sits back complacently._) MRS. DERMOTT. Perfectly lovely, darling.