The Red House Mystery and Other Novels. A. A. Milne
BELINDA (fluttering her eyelids). Oh, do you think so? (Firmly) Don't be silly, child.
DELIA (holding up a finger). Now tell me all that's been happening here at once.
BELINDA (with a sigh). And I was just going to ask you how you were getting on with your French.
DELIA. Bother French! You've been having a much more interesting time than I have, so you've got to tell.
BELINDA (with a happy sigh). O-oh! (She sinks back into her chair.)
DELIA. Is it like the Count at Scarborough?
BELINDA (surprised and pained). My darling, what _do_ you mean?
DELIA. Don't you remember the Count who kept proposing to you at Scarborough? I do.
BELINDA (reproachfully). Dear one, you were the merest child, paddling about on the beach and digging castles.
DELIA (smiling to herself). I was old enough to notice the Count.
BELINDA (sadly). And I'd bought her a perfectly new spade! How one deceives oneself!
DELIA. And then there was the M.P. who proposed at Windermere.
BELINDA. Yes, dear, but it wasn't seconded--I mean he never got very far with it.
DELIA. And the artist in Wales.
BELINDA. Darling child, what a memory you have. No wonder your teachers are pleased with you.
DELIA (settling herself comfortably). Now tell me all about this one.
BELINDA (meekly). Which one?
DELIA (excitedly). Oh, are there lots?
BELINDA (severely). Only two.
DELIA. Two! You abandoned woman!
BELINDA. It's something in the air, darling. I've never been in Devonshire in April before.
DELIA. Is it really serious this time?
BELINDA (pained). I wish you wouldn't say _this_ time, Delia. It sounds so unromantic. If you'd only put it into French--_cette fois_--it sounds so much better. _Cette fois_. (Parentally.) When one's daughter has just returned from an expensive schooling in Paris, one likes to feel--
DELIA. What I meant, dear, was, am I to have a stepfather at last?
BELINDA. Now you're being _too_ French, darling.
DELIA. Why, do you still think father may be alive?
BELINDA. Why not? It's only eighteen years since he left us, and he was quite a young man then.
DELIA. Yes, but surely you'd have heard from him in all those years, if he'd been alive?
BELINDA. Well, he hasn't heard from _me, _and I'm still alive.
DELIA (looking earnestly at her mother). I shall never understand it.
BELINDA. Understand what?
DELIA. Were you as heavenly when you were young as you are now?
BELINDA (rapturously). Oh, I was sweet!
DELIA. And yet he left you after only six months.
BELINDA (rather crossly). I wish you wouldn't keep on saying he left me. I left him too.
DELIA. Why?
BELINDA (smiling to herself). Well, you see, he was quite certain he knew how to manage women, and I was quite certain I knew how to manage men. (Thoughtfully.) If only one of us had been certain, it would have been all right.
DELIA (seriously). What really happened, mummy? I'm grown up now, so I think you ought to tell me.
BELINDA (thoughtfully). That was about all, you know ... except for his beard.
DELIA. Had he a beard? How funny!
BELINDA. Yes, dear, it was; but he never would see it. He took it quite seriously.
DELIA. And did you say dramatically, "If you really loved me, you'd take it off"?
BELINDA (apologetically). I'm afraid I did, darling.
DELIA. And what did _he_ say?
BELINDA. He said--_very_ rudely--that, if I loved _him_, I'd do my hair in a different way.
DELIA. How ridiculous!
BELINDA (touching her hair). Of course, I didn't do it like this then. (With a sigh.) I suppose we never ought to have married, really.
DELIA. Why did you?
BELINDA. Mother rather wanted it. (Solemnly.) Delia, never get married because your mother--Oh, I forgot; _I'm_ your mother.
DELIA. And I don't want a better one. ... And so you left each other?
BELINDA. Yes.
DELIA. But, darling, didn't you tell him there was going to be a Me?
BELINDA. Oh no!
DELIA. I wonder why not?
BELINDA. Well, you see, if I had, he might have wanted to stay.
DELIA. But--
BELINDA (hurt). If he didn't want to stay for _me_, I didn't want him to stay for _you_. (Penitently.) Forgive me, darling, but I didn't know you very well then. (DELIA jumps off the table and hugs her mother impetuously.) We've been very happy together, haven't we?
DELIA (going back to her seat). I should think we have.
BELINDA. I don't want to deny you anything, and, of course, if you'd like a stepfather (looking down modestly) or two--
DELIA. Oh, you _have_ been enjoying yourself.
BELINDA. Only you see how awkward it would be if Jack turned up in the middle of the wedding, like--like Eugene Aram.
DELIA. Enoch Arden, darling.
BELINDA. It's very confusing their having the same initials. Perhaps I'd better call them both E. A. in future and then I shall be safe. Well, anyhow it would be awkward, darling, wouldn't it? Not that I should know him from Adam after all these years--except for a mole on his left arm.
DELIA. Perhaps Adam had a mole.
BELINDA. No, darling; you're thinking of Noah. He had two.
DELIA (thoughtfully). I wonder what would happen if you met somebody whom you really did fall in love with?
BELINDA (reproachfully). Now you're being serious, and it's April.
DELIA. Aren't these two--the present two--serious?
BELINDA. Oh no! They think they are, but they aren't a bit, really. Besides, I'm doing them such a lot of good. I'm sure they'd hate to marry me, but they love to think they're in love with me, and--_I_ love it, and--and _they_ love it, and--and we _all_ love it.
DELIA. You really are the biggest, darlingest