MRS. DERMOTT. Did I? Now what on earth could it have been? Was it a flustered ring, Griggs, or just an ordinary calm one? GRIGGS. Quite calm, madam. MRS. DERMOTT (_in anguish_). Oh, Vangy _dear_, what _did_ I ring for? EVANGELINE. You said something about your knitting just before. MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, of course, yes. Griggs, do you know how many stitches I cast on for this sleeve? GRIGGS. Forty-seven, madam. MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, thank you so much--you're quite sure? GRIGGS. Quite, madam, but if I might suggest it, next time an even number would be easier to remember. MRS. DERMOTT. Yes, Griggs--remind me, won't you? You're a great help. GRIGGS. Yes, madam. MRS. DERMOTT. Thank you, Griggs. (_Exit_ GRIGGS, R.) Really, I don't know what I should do without that man. I believe he's Scotch, but he's quite invaluable. MRS. CROMBIE. So it seems. EVANGELINE. Will Sylvia and Uncle Daniel be here in time for dinner, mother? MRS. DERMOTT. Yes, his train arrived at Euston at eleven-thirty. They ought to be here quite soon now, unless, of course, anything has happened to the car--but still, Sylvia drives very carefully. They taught her to do lots of things like that on the films, you know--they're awfully daring--I shall never forget when they made her jump off Westminster Bridge on a horse--my sister Amy was scandalized, and I said---- MRS. CROMBIE. I can _quite_ imagine it. It was very plucky of your daughter to do it, though I'm glad Faith isn't on the films--I should be worried to death. MRS. DERMOTT. Of course I felt like that at first--but one gets hardened to anything--even my poor brother's approaching death seems less terrible now--at the time when he told us it was a fearful shock, but somehow---- MRS. CROMBIE. It must be terribly sad for you. Faith told me about it this morning. What is he suffering from? MRS. DERMOTT. Well, to tell you the truth, we don't quite know, he will joke about it so--at first he said it was "Sleeping Sickness" and then "Creeping quickness" or pneu-somnia or something or other--one comfort, he doesn't seem to mind a bit. MRS. CROMBIE. Perhaps the doctor diagnosed the case all wrong. MRS. DERMOTT. Oh yes, they are careless--aren't they? Did you say "diagnosed," there now, that's the word you were trying to think of the other day for your short story, Vangy. I knew it was dia----SPACELEFTsomething. (_Enter_ OLIVER _and_ JOYCE _from garden--followed by_ FAITH _and_ BOBBIE.) JOYCE. I won a sett. (_Goes to chair_ L. _of table past._) OLIVER. Only because I had the sun in my eyes. (OLIVER _puts racquet on piano._) JOYCE. Well, I offered to change over, but you wouldn't. MRS. DERMOTT. What time will Sylvia and your uncle arrive? OLIVER (_sitting on top of table_). They ought to be here any moment now, unless Sylvia's bashed up the bus.