MRS. CROMBIE. How much is he going to leave? FAITH. I don't know, but it's sure to be a lot. MRS. CROMBIE. Why? FAITH. Well, he's a bachelor and--and he's been mining in South America. MRS. CROMBIE. There are hundreds of bachelors in South America who are absolutely penniless--whether they mine or not. FAITH. You are horrid, mother. (_Sniffs._) I did feel so happy, and I wanted you to be happy too. MRS. CROMBIE (_with slight sarcasm_). It was sweet of you, dear. I really can't work myself up to a high pitch of enthusiasm over an uncle who though apparently in the last throes of a virulent disease is well able to gallop backwards and forwards across the Atlantic gaily arranging to leave an extremely problematic fortune to an extremely scatter-brained young man. FAITH. Bobbie isn't _scatter_-brained. MRS. CROMBIE. The whole family is scatter-brained, and I expect the uncle's the worst of the lot--he wouldn't have been sent to South America otherwise. FAITH. He wasn't _sent_, he went. MRS. CROMBIE. How do you know? He probably did something disgraceful in his youth and had to leave the country. Just like my brother, your Uncle Percy. I'm certain there's a skeleton of some kind in this family--anyhow he's sure not to die when we want him to. FAITH. The doctor said three years. MRS. CROMBIE. Only to frighten him, that's what doctors are for. I believe they cured hundreds of cases in the army like that. FAITH. Did they, mother. MRS. CROMBIE. What's the matter with the man? FAITH. I don't know. MRS. CROMBIE. It strikes me, dear, that you had better find out a bit more before you get engaged another time. FAITH (_tearfully_). But I don't want to be engaged another time. I want to be engaged this time. Oh, mother darling, won't you wait a little while? Just _see_ the uncle. If you got him alone for a while you could find out anything--you're always so clever at that sort of thing. Oh, mother, do. MRS. CROMBIE. I'll interview the man on one condition. That is that whatever decision I may make you promise to abide by it afterwards. FAITH (_rises_). Yes, mother, I promise. (_Kisses her, remains below fireplace._) MRS. CROMBIE. Now I suppose we had better join the rest, they're being feverishly bright on the tennis lawn. (_Enter_ MRS. DERMOTT _followed by_ EVANGELINE. MRS. DERMOTT _motions to_ EVANGELINE _to pick up papers, who does so, placing them on table._) MRS. DERMOTT. Ah, there you are, Mrs. Crombie; you were bored with watching tennis too. Of course Oliver and Joyce's efforts cannot really be called tennis, but still it's an amusement for them. (_Sits in armchair._) Have you seen my knitting anywhere, Vangy darling? I'm certain I left it here. (FAITH _sits on form_ R.) EVANGELINE. You had it in the drawing-room before lunch. I'll go and look. (_Exit_ EVANGELINE R.)