. Mother never will grasp the smallest technicality.

(_Coming down to fireplace, he puts the telegram on the mantelpiece._)

FAITH. You were going to tell me something.

BOBBIE. Yes, I know something that will banish your mother's disapproval
altogether....

FAITH. She hasn't disapproved yet. I only said she might.

BOBBIE. Well, she's pretty certain to want you to make a good match. I
know what mothers are, they all do. I'm not a good match I know, but
what she doesn't know is that I have wonderful prospects.

FAITH (_with interest_). Have you?

BOBBIE. I should never have proposed to you, otherwise.

FAITH. Well, you haven't proposed properly.

BOBBIE. I mean to when I've told you everything. Will you listen?
(_Moves to_ R. _of Chesterfield._)

FAITH. Of course.

BOBBIE. Well, have you ever met my Uncle Daniel? (_Sits by her on
Chesterfield._)

FAITH. No.

BOBBIE. You will to-day, he's a wonderful chap. Eighteen months ago his
doctor told him that he only had three years to live. (FAITH _giggles._)
And the day he came over from South America he gave us all a jolly good
talking to--quite right too.

FAITH. Why?

BOBBIE. You see father had left mother badly off, and we were all
drooping round doing nothing.

FAITH. Of course!

BOBBIE. Then Uncle Dan turned up and said he'd leave his whole fortune
to the one of us who made good in some way or other. Of course that
bucked us up no end, and look at us now--Vangy's raking in the dibs with
her novel, Sylvia's on a fair way to be a big film star, Oliver has just
been made assistant manager at the motor works, which is a good leg-up
considering that he started as an ordinary mechanic. I'm doing jolly
well out of my songs--specially "The Rose of Passion Sweet." Why they
buy the beastly thing I don't know. It's the worst of the lot.

FAITH. Oh! Bobbie!

BOBBIE. Even Joyce has walked off with all the prizes at school and
intends to be a great artist. You see we've all risen to the bait.
Eighteen months ago it seemed providential that Uncle should only have
such a short time to live, now I rather hate it, in spite of the money.
He's a dear, though of course we didn't see much of him. He went back to
South America soon after he'd seen us, but still he left an impression.
Here we are, all working like slaves, and helping mother to keep on the
house. It would have broken her heart to have given it up. There are my
prospects--a huge fortune, quite soon.