(_WILLIAM, who is just going forward, stops for a moment to jot this down on his shirt cuff. Then, beckoning to ROYCE to follow him, he approaches._) WILLIAM. My heartiest congratulations, sir. BLAYDS. Thank you, William. When you are ninety, I’ll do as much for you. WILLIAM (_laughing heartily_). Ha, ha! Very good, sir. May I present Mr. A. L. Royce, the well-known critic? BLAYDS (_looking thoughtfully at ROYCE_). We have met before, Mr. Royce? ROYCE. At Bournemouth, sir. Eighteen years ago. BLAYDS (_nodding_). Yes. I remember. WILLIAM. Wonderful, wonderful! BLAYDS (_holding out his hand_). Thank you for wasting your time now on an old man. You must stay and talk to me afterwards. ROYCE. It’s very kind of you, sir. I—— WILLIAM. Just a moment, Mr. Royce. (_He indicates SEPTIMA and OLIVER._) ROYCE. Oh, I beg your pardon. (_He steps on one side._) WILLIAM (_in a whisper_). Septima. SEPTIMA (_coming forward_). Congratulations, Grandfather. (_She bends her head, and he kisses her._) BLAYDS. Thank you, my dear. I don’t know what I’ve done, but thank you. OLIVER (_coming forward_). Congratulations, Grandfather. (_He bends down and BLAYDS puts a hand on his head._) BLAYDS. Thank you, my boy, thank you. (_Wistfully_) I was your age once. (_WILLIAM, who has been very busy pouring out port, now gets busy distributing it. When they are all ready he holds up his glass._) WILLIAM. Are we all ready? (_They are._) Blayds! ALL. Blayds! (_They drink._) BLAYDS (_moved as always by this_). Thank you, thank you. (_Recovering himself_) Is that the Jubilee port, William? WILLIAM. Yes, sir. BLAYDS (_looking wistfully at ISOBEL_). May I? ISOBEL. Yes, dear, if you like. William—— WILLIAM (_anxiously_). Do you think——? (_She nods, and he pours out a glass._) Here you are, sir. BLAYDS (_taking it in rather a shaky hand_). Mr. Royce, I will drink to you; and, through you, to all that eager youth which is seeking, each in his own way, for beauty. (_He raises his glass._) May they find it at the last! (_He drinks._) ROYCE. Thank you very much, sir. I shall remember. WILLIAM. Allow me, sir. (_He recovers BLAYDS’ glass._) Marion, you have business to attend to? Oliver——? Septima——? MARION. Yes, dear. (_Cheerfully to BLAYDS_) We’re going now, Grandfather. BLAYDS (_nodding_). I shall talk a little to Mr. Royce. MARION. That’s right, dear; don’t tire yourself. Come along, children. (_OLIVER comes along. SEPTIMA hesitates. She “means to have it out this time.”_) SEPTIMA (_irresolutely_). Grandfather—— BLAYDS. Well? MARION. Come along, dear. SEPTIMA (_overawed by the majesty of BLAYDS_). Oh—all right. (_They go. But she will certainly have it out next time._) WILLIAM (_in a whisper to ROYCE_). The Address? (_To BLAYDS_) Mr. Royce has a message of congratulation from some of the younger writers, which he wishes to present to you, sir. Mr. Royce—— (_ROYCE comes forward with it._) BLAYDS. It is very good of them.