Baxter. But this is very confusing–(moving towards the swing doors)–this is very disturbing to a man of my age. For weeks past I have been regarding myself as a–a possible benedict. I have–ah–taken steps. (Back to the L. end of the C. table.) Only this morning, in writing to my housekeeper, I warned her that she might hear at any moment a most startling announcement.
Devenish (cheerfully). Oh, that's all right. That might only mean that you were getting a new bowler-hat.
Baxter (dropping down L.C. a few steps–suddenly). Ah, and what about you, sir? How is it that you take this so lightly? (Triumphantly.) I have it. It all becomes clear to me. You have transferred your affections to her daughter!
Devenish. Oh, I say, Baxter, this is very crude.
Belinda. And why should he not, Mr. Baxter? (Softly.) He has made me very happy.
Baxter (staggered). He has made you happy, Mrs. Tremayne!
Belinda. Very happy.
Baxter (thoughtfully). Oh! Oh ho! Oh ho! (He takes a turn up the room into the inner room, muttering to himself. Belinda kneels and watches him over the back of the Chesterfield. Then he comes down again to her R. side.) Mrs. Tremayne, I have taken a great resolve. (Solemnly.) I also will make you happy. (Thumping his heart.) I also will woo Miss Delia.
Belinda. Oh!
Devenish. Look here, Baxter—