DANIEL. I think you might have waited for me--I'm a most important factor. What were you discussing? SYLVIA. Oh--er--ways and means. DANIEL. I see, it's as bad as that! SYLVIA. But you wait until mother comes. She'll explain everything. I'll go and hurry her up. (_She goes up stairs._) DANIEL. Don't leave me all alone. I'm a timid creature. SYLVIA (_turns_). After all that Broncho busting! I don't think! (_Exit_ SYLVIA _upstairs._) DANIEL. Broncho busting! What on earth does she mean? (_He walks slowly to fireplace and stands with his back to it._) (_Enter_ MRS. DERMOTT _down stairs. They meet_ C.) MRS. DERMOTT. Danny! Danny! darling---- DANIEL (C.). Anne! (_He kisses her fondly._) MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, my dear, you have been away such a long time. DANIEL (_he turns her round to_ R.). Well, this is splendid--you do look fit! Do you know I've often longed to be home. I've imagined winter afternoons just like this--with a nice crackly fire and tea and muffins in the grate. (_Pulling her on Chesterfield._) MRS. DERMOTT. Oh well, they're not in the grate yet, dear, but they will be soon. I ordered a special lot because I knew you loved them. (_He sits beside her; she is nearest the fire._) MRS. DERMOTT. I can never thank you enough for sending the cheque, Danny. DANIEL. Oh, rubbish. MRS. DERMOTT. It was the greatest help in the world. DANIEL. I started for home the very moment I heard you were in trouble; has everything been very, very trying? MRS. DERMOTT. Only during the last few days. You see, George hadn't been near me for four years before he died, so it wasn't such a terrible shock as it might have been. Of course, he was my husband, and it was upsetting, but still---- DANIEL. He behaved like a beast to you, and---- MRS. DERMOTT. Well, he's dead now--but don't let's discuss my affairs. Tell me about yourself; what have you been doing? DANIEL. That can wait. Considering that the sole object of my coming to England was to help you, I think we ought to concentrate. Tell me now, has he left you very badly off? MRS. DERMOTT. Well, Tibbets says we're ruined, but you know what Tibbets is. Such a pessimist! DANIEL. Tibbets? MRS. DERMOTT. Yes, our lawyer, you know. DANIEL. Do I? How much have you got? MRS. DERMOTT. I think Tibbets said about fifteen hundred; of course we can't keep the house and family going on that, can we? DANIEL. Of course we can't. What do the children intend to do? MRS. DERMOTT. Well, they don't quite know, poor darlings. DANIEL. Poor darlings! Is Oliver at home? MRS. DERMOTT. Yes. He's going to be a barrister or an engineer. He's very vague about it, but has been learning Pelmanism, so I know he's going to be something. DANIEL. I see. Bobbie? MRS. DERMOTT. Oh, Bobbie, he's so young. Of course, it's not his fault. DANIEL. Naturally. MRS. DERMOTT. He composes, you know--beautiful little songs,--mostly about moonlight. Evangeline writes the words. She is _very_ artistic, and----