Miss beech.  Poor creature!

Joy.  I don’t want to be worried about my frock.

Colonel. [Scratching his bald head.] Well, I shall catch it.

Joy.  Oh, Uncle Tom, your head is so beautiful from here! [Leaning over, she fans it with a leafy twig.]

Miss beech.  Disrespectful little toad!

Colonel. [Quickly putting on his hat.] You’ll fall out, and a pretty mess that’ll make on—­[he looks uneasily at the ground]—­my lawn!

     [A voice is heard calling “Colonel!  Colonel!]”

Joy.  There’s Dick calling you, Uncle Tom.

     [She disappears.]

Dick. [Appearing in the opening of the wall.] Ernie’s waiting to play you that single, Colonel!

     [He disappears.]

Joy.  Quick, Uncle Tom!  Oh! do go, before he finds I ’m up here.

Miss.  Beech.  Secret little creature!

     [The colonel picks up his racquet, shakes his fist, and goes
     away.]

Joy. [Calmly.] I’m coming down now, Peachey.

     [Climbing down.]

Look out!  I’m dropping on your head.

Miss beech. [Unmoved.] Don’t hurt yourself!

     [Joy drops on the rustic seat and rubs her shin.  Told you so!]

     [She hunts in a little bag for plaster.]

Let’s see!

Joy. [Seeing the worms.] Ugh!

Miss beech.  What’s the matter with the poor creatures?

Joy.  They’re so wriggly!

[She backs away and sits down in the swing.  She is just seventeen, light and slim, brown-haired, fresh-coloured, and grey-eyed; her white frock reaches to her ankles, she wears a sunbonnet.] Peachey, how long were you Mother’s governess.

Miss beech.  Five years.

Joy.  Was she as bad to teach as me?

Miss beech.  Worse!

     [Joy claps her hands.]

She was the worst girl I ever taught.

Joy.  Then you weren’t fond of her?

Miss beech.  Oh! yes, I was.

Joy.  Fonder than of me?

Miss beech.  Don’t you ask such a lot of questions.

Joy.  Peachey, duckie, what was Mother’s worst fault?

Miss beech.  Doing what she knew she oughtn’t.

Joy.  Was she ever sorry?

Miss beech.  Yes, but she always went on doin’ it.

Joy.  I think being sorry ’s stupid!

Miss beech.  Oh, do you?

Joy.  It isn’t any good.  Was Mother revengeful, like me?

Miss beech.  Ah!  Wasn’t she?

Joy.  And jealous?

Miss beech.  The most jealous girl I ever saw.