THE SCARLET PARASOL. SCENE III.--_The Hall. A quarter to Three in the afternoon._ _Muriel_ (_to_ ALAN, _who is just taking his hat_). Oh! _May_ I speak to you one moment, Master ROY? _Alan._ Pray do, dear Miss VANE. I am just going for a stroll by myself--to--to develope an idea I've got. _Muriel._ If you should happen to be going for a secret drive along the high road with VIOLA, in a dog-cart from JOHNSTONE'S, _would_ you be so kind as to give her this? (_Hands scarlet parasol._) She forgot it. And don't let her leave it anywhere. You see her initials are carved round it. And she is _always_ losing things. Please be very careful! [_She smiles._ _Alan._ What on earth can have given you such an extraordinary idea, Miss VANE? [_Takes parasol._ _Muriel._ Well, a sort of coach-building, livery-stable person, from JOHNSTONE'S, is engaged to JANE, the housemaid. He came to see her to-day.... She has been ill, poor thing! _Alan._ How very distressing! _Muriel._ VIOLA _said_ she was going to visit cottages. However, in _case_ you _should_ meet--one never knows--you'll give her the sunshade. _Alan._ You may depend upon it, Miss VANE. _In the Dog-cart._ ALAN _is driving very leisurely, and_ VIOLA _trying to hide under her parasol_. _Alan._ That's a perfectly delicious hat of yours! _Viola._ I am so glad you like it! This is a very nice dog-cart, and this is a pretty lane to drive in, so cool and green. [_A pony-carriage passes._ _Viola_ (_starting violently_). Good heavens! There are the clergyman and his wife. [_She bows, blushing crimson._ _Alan._ Why are you agitated, Mrs. TRAVERS? They look very gentle and harmless. _Viola._ Gentle and harmless! If they tell ALBERT? _Alan._ Does he disapprove of the clergy taking exercise in the open air? _Viola_ (_pettishly_). Of course not. How absurd! [_A silence._ _Alan._ Shall we get out presently, and sit in one of these nice fields, and make daisy-chains? There are daisies in fields, I know--though I _am_ rather urban. _Viola._ Oh, yes; and cowslips! _Alan._ You ought to give a cowslip-ball, Mrs. TRAVERS. It would be charming. May I come? _Viola._ If you're old enough by then! _Alan._ Oh, I'm never going to be old enough. _Viola._ Really not? _Alan_ (_candidly_). It's a great thing to have settled on one's pose, Mrs. TRAVERS; and one can't be always changing--it's so much trouble! _In the Field._ _Viola_ (_trying to enjoy herself_). This is lovely! So cool! and the sky so--so blue! _Alan._ You have a perfect passion for scenery! (_He picks some flowers, and gives them to her._) I have so many things I want to tell you---- _Viola._ About yourself?