There's an account of that West Australian swindle. Set of ruffians! Listen to this, Nell! "It is understood that amongst the share-holders are large numbers of women, clergymen, and Army officers." How people can be such fools! [Becoming aware that his absorption is unobserved, he drops his glasses, and reverses his chair towards the tree.] MRS. HOPE. [Reappearing with a garden syringe.] I simply won't have Dick keep his fishing things in the tree; there's a whole potful of disgusting worms. I can't touch them. You must go and take 'em out, Tom. [In his turn the COLONEL enters the hollow of the tree.] MRS. HOPE. [Personally.] What on earth's the pleasure of it? I can't see! He never catches anything worth eating. [The COLONEL reappears with a paint pot full of worms; he holds them out abstractedly.] MRS. HOPE. [Jumping.] Don't put them near me! MISS BEECH. [From behind the tree.] Don't hurt the poor creatures. COLONEL. [Turning.] Hallo, Peachey? What are you doing round there? [He puts the worms down on the seat.] MRS. HOPE. Tom, take the worms off that seat at once! COLONEL. [Somewhat flurried.] Good gad! I don't know what to do with the beastly worms! MRS. HOPE. It's not my business to look after Dick's worms. Don't put them on the ground. I won't have them anywhere where they can crawl about. [She flicks some greenflies off her roses.] COLONEL. [Looking into the pot as though the worms could tell him where to put them.] Dash! MISS BEECH. Give them to me. MRS. HOPE. [Relieved.] Yes, give them to Peachey. [There comes from round the tree Miss BEECH, old-fashioned, barrel-shaped, balloony in the skirts. She takes the paint pot, and sits beside it on the rustic seat.] MISS BEECH. Poor creatures! MRS. HOPE. Well, it's beyond me how you can make pets of worms-- wriggling, crawling, horrible things! [ROSE, who is young and comely, in a pale print frock, comes from the house and places letters before her on a silver salver.] [Taking the letters.] What about Miss joy's frock, Rose? ROSE. Please, 'm, I can't get on with the back without Miss Joy. MRS. HOPE. Well, then you must just find her. I don't know where she is. ROSE. [In a slow, sidelong manner.] If you please, Mum, I think Miss Joy's up in the---- [She stops, seeing Miss BEECH signing to her with both hands.] MRS. HOPE. [Sharply.] What is it, Peachey? MISS BEECH. [Selecting a finger.] Pricked meself! MRS. HOPE. Let's look! [She bends to look, but Miss BEECH places the finger in her mouth.] ROSE. [Glancing askance at the COLONEL.] If you please, Mum, it's below the waist; I think I can manage with the dummy. MRS. HOPE. Well, you can try. [Opening her letter as ROSE retires.] Here's Molly about her train. MISS BEECH. Is there a letter for me? MRS. HOPE. No, Peachey. MISS BEECH. There never is.