[For a few seconds the hollow tree stands alone; then from the house rose comes and enters it.  She takes out a bottle of champagne, wipes it, and carries it away; but seeing Mrs. GWYN’s scarf lying across the chair, she fingers it, and stops, listening to the waltz.  Suddenly draping it round her shoulders, she seizes the bottle of champagne, and waltzes with abandon to the music, as though avenging a long starvation of her instincts.  Thus dancing, she is surprised by Dick, who has come to smoke a cigarette and think, at the spot where he was told to “have a go.”  Rose, startled, stops and hugs the bottle.]

Dick.  It’s not claret, Rose, I should n’t warm it.

[Rose, taking off the scarf, replaces it on the chair; then with the half-warmed bottle, she retreats.  Dick, in the swing, sits thinking of his fate.  Suddenly from behind the hollow tree he sees Joy darting forward in her day dress with her hair about her neck, and her skirt all torn.  As he springs towards her, she turns at bay.]

Dick.  Joy!

Joy.  I want Uncle Tom.

Dick. [In consternation.] But ought you to have got up—­I thought you were ill in bed; oughtn’t you to be lying down?

Joy.  If have n’t been in bed.  Where’s Uncle Tom?

Dick.  But where have you been?-your dress is all torn.  Look! [He touches the torn skirt.]

Joy. [Tearing it away.] In the fields.  Where’s Uncle Tom?

Dick.  Are n’t you really ill then?

     [Joy shakes her head.]

Dick, [showing her the irises.] Look at these.  They were the best I could get.

Joy.  Don’t!  I want Uncle Tom!

Dick.  Won’t you take them?

Joy.  I ’ve got something else to do.

Dick. [With sudden resolution.] What do you want the Colonel for?

Joy.  I want him.

Dick.  Alone?

Joy.  Yes.

Dick.  Joy, what is the matter?

Joy.  I ’ve got something to tell him.

Dick.  What? [With sudden inspiration.] Is it about Lever?

Joy. [In a low voice.] The mine.

Dick.  The mine?

Joy.  It ’s not—­not a proper one.

Dick.  How do you mean, Joy?

Joy.  I overheard.  I don’t care, I listened.  I would n’t if it had been anybody else, but I hate him.

Dick. [Gravely.] What did you hear?

Joy.  He ’s keeping back something Uncle Tom ought to know.

Dick.  Are you sure?

     [Joy makes a rush to pass him.]

[Barring the way.] No, wait a minute—­you must!  Was it something that really matters?—­I don’t want to know what.