h! look at my face,
I look quite happy now.

(_Exit_ MRS. DERMOTT _upstairs._)

SYLVIA. I think mother is rather mixing up North and South America; they
don't have such awful hardships where Uncle Daniel comes from.

(_Enter_ OLIVER _from hall; he is a thick-set, determined-looking man
of twenty-five._)

OLIVER. Hallo! (_Crossing to table_, L.C.)

JOYCE (_going to him, excitedly_). Something wonderful has happened,
Oliver.

OLIVER. What is it?

JOYCE. We're ruined. I've just got to go and order extra teacakes. Isn't
it all thrilling?

(_Exit_ JOYCE _into hall._)

OLIVER. What on earth's she talking about?

SYLVIA. It's perfectly true. We haven't any money, but Uncle Daniel's
coming to-day, and we're sure he'll help us.

OLIVER (_dazed_). Haven't any money, but----

EVANGELINE (_at fire_). Mother's been rather vague as usual, but we
gather that we're practically penniless, and that we shall have to give
up the house after two years unless something happens.

SYLVIA. Luckily Uncle Daniel is happening--this afternoon. Mother's just
had a wire from him--he's certain to be rich, mother says.

(BOBBIE _leaning against stairs._)

OLIVER. Why?

SYLVIA. Because he's a bachelor, and has been living in South America
for five years.

BOBBIE. Six years.

SYLVIA. Five years.

BOBBIE. Six years--mother said so.

SYLVIA. No, she didn't----

OLIVER. Well, it doesn't matter. How does mother know we're penniless?

BOBBIE (_coming_ C.). She heard from Tibbets this morning, he's coming
down to-night.

OLIVER (_sinking into chair_). By Jove, what a muddle!

(JOYCE _re-enters, crosses to chair_ L.C.,
_takes coat and exits up stairs._)

SYLVIA. It's all quite clear when you think it out.

BOBBIE (C.). We've all got to wash and make ourselves look clean and
sweet for Uncle Daniel. Your collar's filthy; you'd better go and change
it quickly. He may be here at any minute.

SYLVIA. Turn on the lights, Bobbie--and do let's hurry.

(BOBBIE _turns up the lights and goes upstairs followed by_ OLIVER.
EVANGELINE _goes up slowly after them._)

OLIVER. What a muddle! What a muddle! (_As he crosses to stairs._)

EVANGELINE (_following him_). What a muddle! What a muddle! (_Turns on
stairs._) Shall I put on my emerald green tea gown? (_To_ SYLVIA.)

SYLVIA. No, dear; it's ever so much too old for you.

EVANGELINE (_piqued_). I don't think it's at all too old for me. I shall
ce