JILL (lying down). How many do they de-deposit usually, Oliver?
OLIVER. Oh, three--or a hundred. Just depends how hungry I am. Have a
bull's-eye, won't you?
JILL (excitedly). Oh, did you bring some?
OLIVER (annoyed). Bring some? (Brightening up) Oh, you mean from the
wreck?
JILL (hastily). Yes, from the wreck. I mean besides the axe and the
bag of nails and the gunpowder.
OLIVER. Couldn't. The ship sank with all hands before I could get
them. But it doesn't matter, because (going up to one of the trees) I
recognise this as the bull's-eye tree. (He picks a couple of
bull's-eyes and gives one to her.)
JILL. Oh, Oliver, how lovely! Thank you. (She puts it in her mouth.)
OLIVER (sucking hard). There was nothing but breadfruit trees here the
first time I was marooned on it. Rotten things to have on a decent
island. So I planted a bull's-eye tree, and a barley-sugar-cane grove,
and one or two other things, and made a jolly ripping place of it.
JILL (pointing). What's that tree over there?
OLIVER. That one? Rice-pudding tree.
JILL (getting up indignantly). Oliver! Take me back to the boat at
once.
OLIVER. I say, shut up, Jill. You didn't think I meant it for _you_,
did you?
JILL.
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