NOR. Here is the music--see. (_takes it from piano and comes to her R.C._)
_Enter BEATRICE, L.D., and sits un.o.bserved, on sofa._
KATE. (_pointing to note_) What did I tell you?
NOR. You said a quaver.
KATE. No, I said a crotchet.
NOR. Oh!
KATE. Certainly, a crotchet. This is how it goes. (_takes the music, crosses him, and sits at piano and sings one verse of a song_)
NOR. (_enraptured_) Thanks--oh thanks, awfully. (_standing on her R._)
BEA. Rather high for you, isn"t it, my dear? (_both turn_)
NOR. Mrs. Selwyn! (_turns and advances C._)
KATE. (_rises_) I beg your pardon?
BEA. Your voice is so charming, it is a pity to strain it.
KATE. (_goes down R.C._) I wasn"t aware I had an audience. I was simply endeavouring to convince Lord Normantower that a crotchet is not a quaver. I was not attempting to sing.
BEA. My love, you are too modest. I never heard you sing better.
(_KATE grimaces aside_)
NOR. (_aside_) I think, I"d better turn the conversation. (_Goes to R.
of sofa_) How is Philip, this evening?
KATE. Yes, how is Mr. Selwyn?
BEA. I"m glad to say, much stronger.
NOR. That"s good news. I was afraid, as Sir Peter did not dine with us, your husband was worse.
BEA. Sir Peter has been with him all the afternoon, and has announced his intention of remaining till he has solved the mystery of Philip"s illness. It is really very kind of Sir Peter.
KATE. Sir Peter is kindness itself. (_returns to piano, and sits_)
BEA. You can imagine what a satisfaction it is to me, to know that my husband is in such excellent care.
NOR. But has he formed no opinion as to what is the matter with Philip?
BEA. He seems to think, it is nothing worse than an aggravated case of dyspepsia, and he attaches the greatest importance to diet. He has forbidden poor Philip almost everything. Sir Peter is a little crotchety, but he is paying the greatest attention to the case. And he"s so clever! I am charmed with him. (_NORMANTOWER crosses to piano, and stands R. of KATE who plays softly. TOM rises, crosses to MILDRED and takes her hand. She rises, and they advance down a step R.C._)
TOM. (_aside to MILDRED_) Could you die, Mildred?
MIL. I want to, Tom.
TOM. Then let"s die together!
MIL. Yes--but how?
TOM. I don"t know. That"s the worst of me. I"m so beastly ignorant.
MIL. There"s a pond at the bottom of the garden.
TOM. Is there?
MIL. Six feet deep.
TOM. Let"s go at once.
MIL. And throw ourselves in?
TOM. We"ll have a look at it first. (_exit with MILDRED R.C. to R._)
(_PHILIP heard off L. KATE stops playing._)
KATE. Surely that"s Mr. Selwyn! (_BEATRICE rises and goes across up to opening R.C., following TOM and MILDRED_)
(_SIR PETER heard off L._)
NOR. Here they are, both of them.
_Enter PHILIP, followed by SIR PETER, L.D. SIR PETER goes down L., puts snuff-box on mantel, and stands with back to fire; PHILIP comes to C. up stage, KATE rises and meets him._
KATE. You, Mr. Selwyn. Then you"re better!
PHIL. Yes--feeling another man. I"ve even been attending to business, with my solicitor. (_KATE turns away up to R.C._) I must admit, Sir Peter"s treatment is justified by the result, but I can"t say I altogether relish it. (_to NORMANTOWER_) What do you think he"s giving me? (_down, front of sofa_)
NOR. What? (_advances to C._)
PHIL. a.r.s.enic. (_sitting on sofa_)
NOR. Gracious me! (_BEATRICE comes down, and sits R. by piano_)
KATE. (_comes down, L. of BEATRICE_) a.r.s.enic! That"s nothing! Many ladies take it.
NOR. Ladies take a.r.s.enic! (_turning to KATE_)
KATE. Don"t they, Mrs. Selwyn?
BEA. I should hope not, Miss Derwent.
KATE. _You_ never heard of such a thing, of course?