BELINDA. Yes, and this is only just one small mole-hill, Mr.
Baxter.

BAXTER. Yes, but still--

BELINDA. S'sh! here is Miss Robinson. If Mr. Devenish will hold the
hammock while I alight--we don't want an accident--I can introduce
you. (He helps her to get out.) Thank you. Delia darling, this
is Mr. Baxter,--and Mr. Devenish. My niece, Miss Robinson--

DELIA. How do you do?

BELINDA. Miss Robinson has just come over from France. _Mon Dieu,
quel pays!_

BAXTER. I hope you had a good crossing, Miss Robinson.

DELIA. Oh, I never mind about the crossing. Aunt Belinda--(She
stops and smiles.)

BELINDA. Yes, dear?

DELIA. I believe tea is almost ready. I want mine, and I'm sure Mr.
Baxter's hungry. Mr. Devenish scorns food, I expect.

DEVENISH (hurt). Why do you say that?

DELIA. Aren't you a poet?

BELINDA. Yes, darling, but that doesn't prevent him eating. He'll