Mrs. Crombie. You are a little fool, Fai...

Mrs. Crombie. You are a little fool, Faith. Fancy flirting with that—the elder one has much more in him.

Faith. But I don't like Oliver so much, his chin's so scrubby.

Mrs. Crombie. Oliver is a steady man with an assured career in front of him—this one——

Faith. Mother, we're engaged!

Mrs. Crombie. Of course you are. That has been perfectly obvious from the moment I passed the window. Now of course we have all the trouble of getting you disengaged again. Really you are very tiresome. (Below table.)

Faith. Mother, how can you be so horrid, you will not understand! Bobbie has ever so much better prospects than Oliver.

Mrs. Crombie. Who said so? Bobbie?

Faith. Yes, but it's true; his Uncle is going to leave him a huge fortune in a year's time.

Mrs. Crombie. Which Uncle? (Takes out cigarette from case.)

Faith. He's only got one—Daniel Davis. He landed in England yesterday, and is coming down here to-day. Eighteen months ago the doctor said he only had three years to live——

Mrs. Crombie. I've been caught like that before. (Crosses to mantelpiece for matches.)

Faith. Why, how do you mean?

Mrs. Crombie. Experience has taught me one thing, and that is that in this world people never die when they're expected to. (Sits on Chesterfield.) The old man will probably live to a ripe old age, then where would you be?

Faith. Well, anyhow Bobbie makes quite a lot out of his songs. (Sits in armchair.)

Mrs. Crombie. Don't be childish, Faith. You know perfectly well I should never allow you to marry a man without a settled income—prospects never kept anyone. Besides, if any of them get the uncle's money it will be Oliver—he's the eldest. (Lights cigarette.)

Faith (in chair L.C.). That's where you are wrong, mother. Just before he sailed back to America, he took Bobbie aside and told him in confidence that he was the one he meant to leave everything to. Of course the others mustn't know because it would be favouritism—don't you see?

Mrs. Crombie. How much is he going to leave?

Faith. I don't know, but it's sure to be a lot.

Mrs. Crombie. Why?

Faith. Well, he's a bachelor and—and he's been mining in South America.

Mrs. Crombie. There are hundreds of bachelors in South America who are absolutely penniless—whether they mine or not.

Faith. You are horrid, mother. (Sniffs.) I did feel so happy, and I wanted you to be happy too.

Mrs. Crombie (with slight sarcasm). It was sweet of you, dear. I really can't work myself up to a high pitch of enthusiasm over an uncle who though apparently in the last throes of a virulent disease is well able to gallop backwards and forwards across the Atlantic gaily arranging to leave an extremely problematic fortune to an extremely scatter-brained young man.

Faith. Bobbie isn't scatter-brained.

Mrs. Crombie. The whole family is scatter-brained, and I expect the uncle's the worst of the lot—he wouldn't have been sent to South America otherwise.

Faith. He wasn't sent, he went.

Mrs. Crombie. How do you know? He probably did something disgraceful in his youth and had to leave the country. Just like my brother, your Uncle Percy. I'm certain there's a skeleton of some kind in this family—anyhow he's sure not to die when we want him to.

Faith. The doctor said three years.

Mrs. Crombie. Only to frighten him, that's what doctors are for. I believe they cured hundreds of cases in the army like that.

Faith. Did they, mother.

Mrs. Crombie. What's the matter with the man?

Faith. I don't know.

Mrs. Crombie. It strikes me, dear, that you had better find out a bit more before you get engaged another time.

Faith (tearfully). But I don't want to be engaged another time. I want to be engaged this time. Oh, mother darling, won't you wait a little while? Just see the uncle. If you got him alone for a while you could find out anything—you're always so clever at that sort of thing. Oh, mother, do.

Mrs. Crombie. I'll interview the man on one condition. That is that whatever decision I may make you promise to abide by it afterwards.

Faith (rises). Yes, mother, I promise. (Kisses her, remains below fireplace.)

Mrs. Crombie. Now I suppose we had better join the rest, they're being feverishly bright on the tennis lawn.

Noel Coward. I’ll Leave It To You