By the way, you won't forget what I
said about the bread-sauce, will you?

MELISANDE. You don't want it remembered, Father, do you? What you
said?

MR. KNOWLE. Not the actual words. All I want, my dear, is that you
should endeavour to explain to the cook the difference between
bread-sauce and a bread-poultice. Make it clear to her that there is
no need to provide a bread-poultice with an obviously healthy chicken,
such as we had to-night, but that a properly made bread-sauce is a
necessity, if the full flavour of the bird is to be obtained.

MELISANDE. "Full flavour of the bird is to be obtained." Yes, Father.

MR. KNOWLE. That's right, my dear. Bring it home to her. A little
quiet talk will do wonders. Well, and so it's Midsummer Night. Why
aren't you two out in the garden looking for fairies?

BOBBY. I say, it's a topping night, you know. We ought to be out.
D'you feel like a stroll, Sandy?

MELISANDE. No, thank you, Bobby, I don't think I'll go out.

BOBBY. Oh, I say, it's awfully warm.

MR. KNOWLE. Well, Jane, I shall take _you_ out. If we meet any of
Sandy's fairy friends, you can introduce me.

MELISANDE (looking across warningly at her). Jane----

JANE (awkwardly). I'm afraid, Uncle Henry, that Melisande and I--I
promised Sandy--we----

MR. KNOWLE (putting her arm firmly through his). Nonsense. I'm not
going to have my niece taken away from me, when she is only staying
with us for such a short time. Besides I insist upon being introduced
to Titania. I want to complain about the rings on the tennis-lawn.
They must dance somewhere else.

JANE (looking anxiously at MELISANDE). You see, Uncle Henry, I'm not
feeling very----

MELISANDE (resigned) All right, Jane.

JANE (brightly). All right, Uncle Henry.

MR. KNOWLE (very brightly). It's all right, Bobby.

JANE. Come along! (They go to the open windows together.)

MR. KNOWLE (as they go). Any message for Oberon, if we meet him?

MELISANDE (gravely). No, thank you, Father.

MR. KNOWLE. It's his turn to write, I suppose.

(JANE laughs as they go out together.)

(Left alone, MELISANDE takes up a book and goes to the sofa with it,
while BOBBY walks about the room unhappily, whistling to himself. He
keeps looking across at her, and at last their eyes meet.)

MELISANDE (putting down her book). Well, Bobby?

BOBBY (awkwardly). Well, Sandy?

MELISANDE (angrily). Don't call me that; you know how I hate it.

BOBBY. Sorry. Melisande. But it's such