GRIGGS. Miss Crombie wished me to say that she is taking breakfast in her bedroom, madam. I'm sending up a tray. MRS. DERMOTT. Quite right, Griggs. I wonder if she's feeling ill or anything. I'll go up presently. Oh, and will you find out if Mr. Davis is coming down soon? GRIGGS. Mr. Davis is not in his room, madam. MRS. DERMOTT. Not? How very strange--he's probably in the garden somewhere. That'll do, Griggs? (_Exit_ GRIGGS, R.) Perhaps you'd better sound the gong again, Bobbie, he might not have heard it. (BOBBIE _crossing in front of table goes to the gong and bangs savagely on it. Every one stops up their ears._) MRS. DERMOTT. You seem to have taken a dislike to that gong, darling. We must start without him, that's all. Do sit down, Oliver, you're much too big to pace backwards and forwards like that. Pour out the coffee, Sylvia dear, if it's ready. (OLIVER _sits on_ EVANGELINE'S _left._ BOBBIE _sits again at the foot of the table._ JOYCE _drops her fork with a loud clatter--every one jumps._ SYLVIA _pours out coffee._) EVANGELINE. If you'd endeavour to cultivate a little more repose, Joyce dear, it would be an advantage. JOYCE (_truculently_). I couldn't help it. MRS. DERMOTT (_brightly_). Fancy--Fanny Harris is engaged. BOBBIE (_gloomily_). What fun. MRS. DERMOTT. It may not be fun to you, but it will be most amusing to Mrs. Harris. I do wish Daniel would come in. Where can he be? BOBBIE. No one cares, anyhow. MRS. DERMOTT. How can you be so horrid, Bobbie--I did think you'd have recovered from your silly temper before this. Fancy not being able to take a joke. OLIVER. It wasn't a joke, it was true. MRS. DERMOTT. You really are utterly absurd. Pass me the toast. I wouldn't have believed you could all have been so silly. I expect Uncle Daniel is just laughing at you. OLIVER. Yes, that's just what he _is_ doing. MRS. DERMOTT. I really think, Oliver, that you, as the eldest, ought to set a little better example. And the marmalade--thank you. After all, considering how good he's been to us, we might allow him to have a little joke without becoming disagreeable--even if it doesn't amuse us very much. Why, I---- JOYCE. But, mother, I tell you it isn't a joke--it's the gospel truth. MRS. DERMOTT. I've never known such a set of maddening children. Pass me the paper, will you, Sylvia? I wish to read it. (SYLVIA _hands her newspaper from window seat and she opens it out and reads it, ignoring the family altogether. Telegraph--with extra pages inserted._) OLIVER (_breaking the silence_). Has any one seen my tennis racquet? JOYCE. Bobbie had it yesterday. BOBBIE. No, I didn't. JOYCE. Yes, you did, you and Faith--I saw you. OLIVER. Well, where is it now? SYLVIA (_ruminatively_). I did see a racquet behind the summer house this morning. Would that be it? OLIVER (_furiously_). Look here, Bobbie, if you go leaving my racquet out all night again I'll punch your head....