Bobbie. Not many, but the bit about "worms gnawing the grave of my beloved" is a little too gloomy. Couldn't you make it butterflies?
(Joyce giggles.)
Evangeline. Don't be silly, Bobbie! butterflies don't live in graves. Well, you can use the first two verses as they are.
Bobbie. I will.
(He starts to play again, Mrs. Dermott is just going towards the stairs when there comes a ring and knock at the front door.)
Joyce (rising). My goodness, the Crombies—I must go and wash. I'm covered in ink. (Going to stairs.)
Evangeline (down L. of table). I shouldn't worry, dear, they'll be so overdressed themselves they will amply make up for any deficiencies in our appearances.
Joyce. I think I'd better go all the same. I must do my hair.
Bobbie. Don't dazzle them too much, dear.
(Exit Joyce upstairs. Griggs crosses in corridor to open front door.)