is is
a great, deep, dark secret; you'll probably need your sal volatile.

DELIA (excitedly). Go on!

BELINDA. Well--(Looking round the room.) Shall we have the lights down a
little?

DELIA. Go _on_, mummy.

BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is--(impressively)--is not quite the
Robinson he appears to be.

DELIA. Yes?

BELINDA. In fact, child, he is--Hadn't you better come and hold your
mother's hand?

DELIA (struggling with some emotion). Go _on_.

BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is a--sort of relation of yours;
in fact--(playing with her rings and looking down coyly)--he is
your--father. (She looks up at DELIA to see how the news is being
received.) Dear one, this is not a matter for mirth.

DELIA (coming over and kissing her). Darling, it is lovely, isn't it? I
am laughing because I am so happy.

BELINDA. Aren't you surprised?

DELIA. No. You see, Claude told me this morning. He found out just
before Mr. Baxter.

BELINDA. Well! Every one seems to have known except me.

DELIA. Didn't you see how friendly father and I got at dinner? I thought
I'd better start breaking the ice--because I suppose he'll be kissing me
directly.

BELINDA. Say you like him.

DELIA. I think he's going to be awfully nice. Does he know you know?
(She goes back to her seat.)

BELINDA. Not yet. Just at present I've rather got Mr. Baxter on my
mind. I suppose, darling, you wouldn't like him as well as Mr. Devenish!
(Pathetically.) You see, they're so used to going about together.

DELIA. Claude is quite enough.

BELINDA. I think I must see Mr. Baxter and get it over. Do you mind if I
have Mr. Devenish too? I feel more at home with both of them. I'll give
you him back. Oh dear, I feel so happy to-night! (She jumps up and goes
over to DELIA.) And is my little girl going to be happy too? That's what
mothers always say on the stage. I think it's so sweet.

DELIA (smiling at her). Yes, I think so, mummy. Of course, I'm not
romantic like you. I expect I'm more like father, really.

BELINDA (dreamily). Jack can be romantic now. He was telling me this
morning all about the people he has proposed to. I mean, I was telling
_him_. Anyhow, he wasn't a bit like a father. Of course, he doesn't know
he is a father yet. Darling, I think you might take him into the garden;
only don't let him know who he is. You see, he ought to propose to me
first, oughtn't he? (As the men come in, she gets up.) Here you all are!
I do hope you haven't been throwin