Ometsu (going to table). Mother is not coming down to breakfast, Simpson. So there’ll only be Mr. Maitland and me. (Skips.) Isn’t it lovely. Has he gone riding?
Simpson (still fooling about the table). Yes, miss.
Ometsu. And he will be back quite soon, won’t he, Simpson? It always seems so long when he’s away. (She runs to the door and looks out.) It’s heavenly, and to-day! I am so happy to-day. (Goes to table and looks up at Simpson.) Do you know what to-day is, Simpson? It’s my birthday! I’m seventeen—quite a woman now, and next week at this time I shall be Mrs. Maitland, and you’ll be calling me mam! (She gives a happy little laugh.) Aren’t you going to wish me many happy returns, Simpson?
Simpson (turns to her sadly, tries to speak, shakes his head and turns away).
Ometsu (in a tone of anxiety). Why, what’s the matter? Are you not well?
Simpson (pulls himself together). Yes, miss.... No, I don’t think I am, miss. I don’t know. Something’s come over me which makes me feel quite bad. I don’t think this climate quite suits me, miss.
Ometsu. Not suit you? Why, you’ve always been quite well until now. It can’t be the climate. (Anxiously.) Would you like a little brandy?
Simpson (eagerly). Yes, yes, please, miss. (He sinks into a chair while she runs to the sideboard and pours him out a peg.)
Ometsu (brings the brandy). There! I am so sorry, I wonder what’s brought this on?
Simpson (gulps down the brandy). Thank ye, miss. I shall be better now. (He gets up and takes the glass to the sideboard and then turns.) Do you know, miss——Your father was a sailor, wasn’t he?