lived in by an unusual family. It is rich,
careless, crowded, comfortable. Almost
cluttering it are deep cushioned chairs, lit-
tle corner clusters of couch, table, lamp;
photographs in silver frames are all about;
magazines, cushions. A profusion of
flowers. Tapestries and rich shawls hang
over the balcony railing. A grand piano
is partly under the balcony, slightly to the
left. A colourful brocade is thrown over
this, and a lamp stands on it, together with
photographs, etc. All sorts of periods
and styles have gone into the making of
the room. Prominently placed is a por-
trait in oils of the late Aubrey Cavendish
in his most celebrated role, all bristling
mustachios, high stick, romantic cape, glit-
tering orders, gold braid, silk and boots
and swagger. The time is about one
o'clock of a November afternoon. The
Cavendishes, a family of actors, are only
now stirring for the day.

At the rise of the curtain the stage is
briefly empty. Immediately Della, the
maid, comes from one of the bedrooms off
the balcony, a breakfast tray in her hands.
She looks a capable person, in the thirties,
and intelligent enough to cope with the
often surprising situations that arise in
the Cavendish household.

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