MARY ROSE. You see, dear seat, we live with my daddy and mother, because Simon is so often away at sea. You know, the loveliest thing in the world is the navy, and the loveliest thing in the navy is H.M.S. _Valiant_, and the loveliest thing on H.M.S. _Valiant_ is Lieutenant Simon Sobersides, and the loveliest thing on Lieutenant Simon Sobersides is the little tuft of hair which will keep standing up at the back of his head. (_SIMON, who is lolling on the moss, is so used to her prattle that his eyes close._) But, listen, you trees, I have a much more wonderful secret than that. You can have three guesses. It is this ... I--have--got--a baby! A girl? No thank you. He is two years and nine months, and he says such beautiful things to me about loving me. Oh, rowan, do you think he means them? SIMON. I distinctly heard it say yes. (_He opens his eyes, to see her gazing entranced across the water._) You needn’t pretend that you can see him. MARY ROSE. I do. Can’t you? He is waving his bib to us. SIMON. That is nurse’s cap. MARY ROSE. Then he is waving it. How clever of him. (_She waves her handkerchief._) Now they are gone. Isn’t it funny to think that from this very spot I used to wave to father? That was a happy time. SIMON. I should be happier here if I wasn’t so hungry. I wonder where Cameron is. I told him after he landed us to tie up the boat at any good place and make a fire. I suppose I had better try to make it myself. MARY ROSE. How you can think of food at such a time! SIMON (_who is collecting sticks_). All very well, but you will presently be eating more than your share. MARY ROSE. Do you know, Simon, I don’t think daddy and mother like this island. SIMON (_on his guard_). Help me with the fire, you chatterbox. (_He has long ceased to credit the story he heard four years ago, but he is ever watchful for MARY ROSE._) MARY ROSE. They never seem to want to speak of it. SIMON. Forgotten it, I suppose. MARY ROSE. I shall write to them from the inn this evening. How surprised they will be to know I am there again. SIMON (_casually_). I wouldn’t write from there. Wait till we cross to the mainland. MARY ROSE. Why not from there? SIMON. Oh, no reason. But if they have a distaste for the place, perhaps they wouldn’t like our coming. I say, praise me, I have got this fire alight. MARY ROSE (_who is occasionally pertinacious_). Simon, why did you want to come to my island without me? SIMON. Did I? Oh, I merely suggested your remaining at the inn because I thought you seemed tired. I wonder where Cameron can have got to. MARY ROSE. Here he comes. (_Solicitously._) Do be polite to him, dear; you know how touchy they are. SIMON. I am learning! (_The boat, with CAMERON, draws in. He is a gawky youth of twenty, in the poor but honourable garb of the ghillie, and is not specially impressive until you question him about the universe._)