I'll Leave It To You Part 6

MRS. DERMOTT. Poor Danny.

DANIEL. Ss.h.!.+ (_waves her to silence_). It may seem to all of you "ba.n.a.l"

in the extreme to talk of money on an occasion such as this, but believe me, it's best to get it over. I came over to England this time, as I have said, with a purpose--one might almost say a double purpose.

Firstly, to comfort my sister, your dear mother, in her hour of--er--tribulation. (_He pauses._) If you would just say "yes" or "quite so" whenever I pause, it would help me enormously.

SYLVIA. All right, we will.

DANIEL. Thank you, you are a good girl. Where was I?

BOBBIE. Tribulation.

EVANGELINE. Hour of tribulation (_in his tone._)

DANIEL.s.p.a.cELEFT----hour of tribulation. (_He pauses._)

SYLVIA. } Yes.

BOBBIE. } Quite so.

DANIEL. I thank you. And secondly, to feast my eyes, perhaps for the last time on earth, upon you children--also to talk to you seriously, for after all, you're my only relatives in the world.

SYLVIA. } Yes, yes.

BOBBIE. } Quite so.

DANIEL. I am as you may have guessed, a wealthy man----

EVERYONE (_eagerly_). Yes, yes! (_Movement from all._)

DANIEL. And out there (_he nods his head descriptively_) we don't get much chance of spending our money----

BOBBIE. } Quite so.

OLIVER. } No, no!

DANIEL. And now I come to the point. At the end of three years I shall be no more.

EVANGELINE. Quite so!

OTHERS. s.h.!.+

(MRS. DERMOTT _sniffs._)

DANIEL. Bear up, Anne; we must all die sometime.

MRS. DERMOTT. Yes, but not of sleeping sickness. It's so horrible.

Anything else--but not sleeping sickness.

DANIEL. I believe it is very comfortable, but that is neither here nor there. What I was going to say was this, I am a firm believer in the old-fas.h.i.+oned laws of entail. I have no patience with this modern way of dividing up legacies between large numbers of people----

SYLVIA (_with interest_). Yes, yes?

BOBBIE (_with equal interest_). Quite so!

DANIEL. When I pa.s.s into the great beyond (MRS. DERMOTT _sniffs. He is obviously rather pleased with that remark, so he repeats it_)--pa.s.s into the great beyond, I intend to leave the whole bulk of my fortune to the one of you who has made good----

OLIVER. How do you mean "Made good"?

DANIEL. I mean make good your position in the world, justify your existence, carve for yourself a niche in the Temple of Fame----s.p.a.cELEFT(_Turning_ R.)

BOBBIE (_very quickly and brightly_). Yes, yes?

DANIEL (_turns, sharply_). That was entirely unnecessary, I didn't pause.

BOBBIE. Sorry.

(_They are all self-conscious as he addresses them._)

DANIEL. What is the use of idling through life, frittering away your youth, I repeat, frittering away your youth, when you might be working to achieve some great and n.o.ble end? (OLIVER _embarra.s.sed_) You, Oliver, you might in time be a great inventor, and know all about the insides of the most complicated machines. You, Evangeline (EVANGELINE _rises, poses by fireplace, one hand on mantel._ JOYCE _laughs--she pulls her hair_), might develop into a great poetess; your mother tells me that you already write verses about the moonlight. They all start like that, only unfortunately some of them stay like it. (_She sits again._) You, Bobbie, you are artistic, too, you might without undue strain become a world famed composer, artist, actor. (BOBBIE _rises, moves down_ L., _posing as actor._) Sylvia, for you I foresee a marvellous career as a decorative designer. You already arrange flowers and jumble sales--and last, but not by any means least, little Joyce (JOYCE _hangs her head, polishes her nails_), now on the very threshold of life. What are you going to do with yourself? Sit at home and wait for a nice husband with mediocre prospects and perhaps an over-developed Adam's apple? Never, never! You too must rise and go forth--the world is calling to you. Do what you will. I can't think of a career for you at the moment, but no matter. I only want to impress upon you all the necessity of making good at something--make good, make good, make good! And the one I consider has done best for himself and the family name, to him--or her--I will bequeath every penny I possess. (_Goes up four stairs._)

OLIVER } (_rising and all talking at once_). But look here---- EVANGELINE.} Uncle dear, of course---- BOBBIE. } How in Heaven's name are we to---- SYLVIA. } Really I don't quite see---- JOYCE. } It's going to be very difficult----

(_All looking towards_ DANIEL, _the positions are now as follows:_ --DANIEL, _up four stairs._ MRS. DERMOTT _extreme_ R. SYLVIA _up_ R.C. OLIVER _down_ R.C. EVANGELINE _down_ C. JOYCE _up_ L.C..

BOBBIE _down_ L.)

DANIEL (_holding up his hand._) Please--couldn't you possibly speak one at a time? Sylvia? (_Motions to her._)

SYLVIA (_stepping forward_). What we want to know, uncle, is how on earth are we to start?

(_They all nod._)

DANIEL (_smiling benignly, arms outstretched_). I'll leave it to you!

_All turn to audience open-mouthed as the_ CURTAIN _descends._

ACT II.

_The_ SCENE _is the same as Act I. Eighteen months have elapsed.

All the windows are wide open. It is a glorious summer day.

Alterations in the furniture are noted at the end of the play. At the table_ L. EVANGELINE _is seated when the_ CURTAIN _rises, typewriting slowly but firmly. There are a lot of papers strewn about. On the piano there is a sort of a pastry board to which is affixed a working model of a motor engine in miniature._ JOYCE _is seated at table_ L.C. _laboriously copying out a sheet of music on to some ma.n.u.script paper._

JOYCE (_showing music_). Is it a crotchet or a quaver that has a waggle on the end of it?

EVANGELINE. I haven't the remotest idea.

JOYCE. I do think Bobbie might write them a little more distinctly, it's awfully difficult to copy.