ns_). Sometimes I wish you were, then I could tell you what
I really think of you.

SYLVIA (_rises and goes to him--laughing_). There, uncle, I won't tease
you any more, but still it must have been a wonderful moment when you
discovered you had made a fortune out of your mine.

DANIEL. I didn't.

SYLVIA (_relentlessly_). But I thought----

DANIEL. That is--not exactly--you see it was like this....

(_Enter_ OLIVER _from garden._)

DANIEL (_under his breath_). Thank God! (_Sits chair below table._)

OLIVER (_above arm-chair_). Hallo Sylvia. Mother's been looking for
you--she wants you to help her pick strawberries for tea. Joyce is with
her now, but she isn't much use because she eats them as fast as she
picks them.

SYLVIA. I'll go now. Stay and keep Uncle Dan company, Oliver. Get him to
tell you some of his South American experiences. They're awfully
interesting. Bye-bye for the present, uncle.

DANIEL. Cheerio!

(_Exit_ SYLVIA, R.)

I suppose you haven't such a thing as a whisky and soda about you, have
you, Oliver?

OLIVER. Of course, I'll get you one.

DANIEL. I'm feeling rather exhausted.

(OLIVER _goes to side table, mixes a drink and gives it to him._)

(_Weakly_) Thank you very much.

OLIVER (C., _fingering arm-chair_). I say, uncle--can you--er--spare me
a few minutes?

DANIEL (_apprehensively_). Yes--what is it?

OLIVER (_awkwardly_). Well, it's like this--I know it's rather bad form
to talk about your will----

DANIEL. Yes, it is.

OLIVER. But I feel I must. I----

DANIEL (_hurriedly_). Wait until another time, don't you worry yourself
about it now. You wait until I'm dead.

OLIVER (_firmly_). No, I must get it over--I want to ask you to leave
your money to one of the others and not to me at all. It was awfully
decent of you to single me out and it bucked me up a lot to feel that
you thought well of me, but now--well, I'm earning steadily and I really
don't need a lot, in fact, it might do me harm to feel that I needn't
work--also it would seem frightfully caddish to the others for me to
have known all along that I was going to get it. Don't you see what I'm
driving at?

DANIEL. In a way, I do, yes....

OLIVER. Well, you'll do what I ask, won't you? It's a ripping feeling
being independent (EVANGELINE _passes the window_) and earning money,
and I want to go on at it--(_He glances out of the window_). Here comes
Vangy. Now leave it to her. Novel writing is a frightf