and almost beautiful;
she carries a book in her hand._)

BOBBIE (_turning_). Oh, Vangy, do come and join us; we're on the verge
of a congress.

EVANGELINE. I must read some more Maeterlinck. (_Posing._)

BOBBIE. You mean you must let us see you reading Maeterlinck.

EVANGELINE (_goes to him, back of Chesterfield, touches his hair._) Try
not to be so irritating, Bobbie dear; just because you don't happen to
appreciate good literature, it's very small and narrow to laugh at
people who do.

SYLVIA. But seriously, Vangy, we are rather worried (EVANGELINE _moves_)
about mother; she's been looking harassed for days.

EVANGELINE (_sitting in armchair_). What about?

SYLVIA. Money, money, money! Haven't you realized that! Uncle Daniel
sent a pretty substantial cheque from South America (_all nod_) that
helped things on a bit after Father's death, but that must be gone by
now--and mother won't say how much father left.

JOYCE. Perhaps she doesn't know.

BOBBIE. She must know now, he's been dead nearly six
months--inconsiderate old beast!

SYLVIA. Bobbie, you're not to talk about father like that. I won't have
it; after all----

BOBBIE. After all what?--He was perfectly rotten to mother, and never
came near her for four years before his death. Why should we be charming
and reverent about him just because he's our father. When I saw him I
hated him, and his treatment of mum hasn't made me like him any better,
I can tell you.

EVANGELINE. But still, Bobbie, he was _our father_, and mother was fond
of him--(BOBBIE. Ha!)--once, anyhow there's nothing to be gained by
running him down.

SYLVIA. The point is, have we enough money to keep on as we are, or
haven't we?

JOYCE (_quickly_). The only one who knows is mother, and she won't say.

SYLVIA. We haven't asked her yet; we'll make her say. Where is she?

BOBBIE. Up in her room, I think.

SYLVIA. Go and fetch her down. (_Puts sewing on form._)

BOBBIE. What, now?

SYLVIA. Yes, _now_.

BOBBIE. Oh, no!

SYLVIA AND EVANGELINE. Yes, go along.

BOBBIE. Righto! we'll tackle her straight away.

(_Exit_ BOBBIE _upstairs._)

JOYCE (_goes to_ EVANGELINE). Do--do you think we may have to leave this
house?

SYLVIA. I don't know.

JOYCE. I should simply hate that. (_Sits on right end of form._)

EVANGELINE. So should we all--it would be miserable.

SYLVIA. Think how awful it must be for mother.

JOYCE. I say, don't you think Oliver ought to be here--i