PIM (_brings out a stamped letter which is not the one he was looking
for, but which reminds him of something else he has forgotten. Looking at
letter_). Oh! Dear me!
ANNE. Yes, sir?
PIM. Dear me. I ought to have posted this. (_Looking at letter_.) Oh,
well, I must send a telegram. You have a telegraph office in the village?
ANNE. Oh, yes, sir. (_Moving up to terrace up_ L. _and pointing off_ L.)
If you turn to the left when you get outside the gates, it's about a
hundred yards down the hill. Turn to the left and down the hill.
PIM. Turn to the left and down the hill. Thank you, thank you. Very
stupid of me to have forgotten.
(ANNE _exits up staircase R_.)
(MR. PIM _wanders about the room humming to himself, and looking at the
pictures and photos on piano. Then goes out at window up_ L.) (DINAH
_enters from staircase up_ R. _dancing, and humming the air of "Down on
the Farm:" she is nineteen, very pretty, very happy, and full of boyish
high spirits and conversation. She dances to foot of stairs, looks off_
R., _then down_ C., _then to piano; sits and plays a few bars and sings
"Down on the Farm," rises and moves up to_ R. _of piano, and as she does
so_ PIM _re-enters from window up_ L. _and they come suddenly face to
face up back_ C. _below the writing-table. There is a slight pause_.)
DINAH (_backing a step_). Hullo!
PIM. You must forgive me, but... Good morning, Mrs. Marden.
DINAH.
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