TUA-HEETA.  Live? (These dusky maidens are no conversationalists.)

JILL.  I expect Oliver will wish to reside at Hammersmith, so convenient for the City.  You’ll like Hammersmith.  You’ll go to St. Paul’s Church, I expect.  The Vicar will be sure to call. (Enter AUNT JANE with small tea-table.) Ah, here’s tea. (To JANE) You’re very slow, Jane.

AUNT JANE.  I’m sorry, ma’am.

JILL.  It’s no good being sorry.  Take another week’s notice. (To TUA-HEETA) You must forgive my talking to my maid.  She wants such a lot of looking after. (JANE puts down the table) That will do, Jane, (JANE bumps against the table) Dear, dear, how clumsy you are.  What wages am I giving you now?

AUNT JANE.  A shilling a month, ma’am.

JILL.  Well, we’d better make it ninepence. (JANE goes out in tears.) Servants are a great nuisance, aren’t they?  Jane is a peculiarly stupid person.  She used to be aunt to my brother, and I have only taken her on out of charity. (She pours out from an imaginary tea-pot) Milk?  Sugar? (She puts them in and hands the imaginary cup to TUA-HEETA.)

TUA-HEETA.  Thank you. (Drinks.)

JILL (pouring herself a cup).  I hope you like China. (She drinks, and then rings an imaginary bell) Well, as I was saying—–­(Enter AUNT JANE.) You can clear away, Jane.

AUNT JANE.  Yes, ma’am.

(She clears away the tea and TUA-HEETA and—­very quickly—­herself, as OLIVER comes back.  OLIVER has been discussing boarding-tactics with his brother-in-law.  CAPTAIN CROOKSHANK belongs to the now old-fashioned Marlinspike School; OLIVER is for well-primed pistols.)

JILL.  Oh, Oliver, I love your island.  I’ve been thinking things all by myself.  You’re married to Tua-heeta.  You don’t mind, do you?

OLIVER.  Not at all, Jill.  Make yourself at home.  I’ve just been trying the doctor in the lagoon.  There were sharks there, after all, so we’ll have to find another place for bathing.  Oh, and I shot an elephant.  What would you like to do now?

JILL.  Just let’s lie here and see what happens. (What happens is that a cassowary comes along.) Oh, what a lovely bird!  Is it an ostrich?

(The cassowary sniffs the air, puts its beak to the ground and goes off again.)

OLIVER.  Silly!  It’s a cassowary, of course.

JILL.  What’s a cassowary?

OLIVER.  Jill!  Don’t you remember the rhyme?

I wish I were a cassowary
  Upon the plains of Timbuctoo
And then I’d eat a missionary—­
  And hat and gloves and hymn-book too!

JILL.  Is that all they’re for?

OLIVER.  Well, what else would you want them for?

(A MISSIONARY, pith-helmet, gloves, hymn-book, umbrella, all complete—­creeps cautiously up.  He bears a strong likeness to the curate, the REVEREND SMILAX.)

MISSIONARY.  I am sorry to intrude upon your privacy, dear friends, but have you observed a cassowary on this island, apparently looking for something?