diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5058.txt | 10769 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5058.zip | bin | 0 -> 140713 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/gpl4w10.txt | 10765 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/gpl4w10.zip | bin | 0 -> 142887 bytes |
7 files changed, 21550 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5058.txt b/5058.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a7e5409 --- /dev/null +++ b/5058.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10769 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Fourth Series Plays, Complete, by John Galsworthy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Fourth Series Plays, Complete + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: October 27, 2006 [EBook #5058] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FOURTH SERIES PLAYS, COMPLETE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + +PLAYS IN THE FOURTH SERIES + +By John Galsworthy + + + +Contents: + + A Bit O' Love + The Foundations + The Skin Game + + + + +A BIT O' LOVE + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +MICHAEL STRANGWAY +BEATRICE STRANGWAY +MRS. BRADMERE +JIM BERE +JACK CREMER +MRS. BURLACOMBE +BURLACOMBE +TRUSTAFORD +JARLAND +CLYST +FREMAN +GODLEIGH +SOL POTTER +MORSE, AND OTHERS +IVY BURLACOMBE +CONNIE TRUSTAFORD +GLADYS FREMAN +MERCY JARLAND +TIBBY JARLAND +BOBBIE JARLAND + + + + +SCENE: A VILLAGE OF THE WEST + +The Action passes on Ascension Day. + +ACT I. STRANGWAY'S rooms at BURLACOMBE'S. Morning. + +ACT II. Evening + + SCENE I. The Village Inn. + SCENE II. The same. + SCENE III. Outside the church. + +ACT III. Evening + + SCENE I. STRANGWAY'S rooms. + SCENE II. BURLACOMBE'S barn. + + + +A BIT O' LOVE + + +ACT I + + It is Ascension Day in a village of the West. In the low + panelled hall-sittingroom of the BURLACOMBE'S farmhouse on the + village green, MICHAEL STRANGWAY, a clerical collar round his + throat and a dark Norfolk jacket on his back, is playing the + flute before a very large framed photograph of a woman, which is + the only picture on the walls. His age is about thirty-five his + figure thin and very upright and his clean-shorn face thin, + upright, narrow, with long and rather pointed ears; his dark + hair is brushed in a coxcomb off his forehead. A faint smile + hovers about his lips that Nature has made rather full and he + has made thin, as though keeping a hard secret; but his bright + grey eyes, dark round the rim, look out and upwards almost as if + he were being crucified. There is something about the whole of + him that makes him seen not quite present. A gentle creature, + burnt within. + + A low broad window above a window-seat forms the background to + his figure; and through its lattice panes are seen the outer + gate and yew-trees of a churchyard and the porch of a church, + bathed in May sunlight. The front door at right angles to the + window-seat, leads to the village green, and a door on the left + into the house. + + It is the third movement of Veracini's violin sonata that + STRANGWAY plays. His back is turned to the door into the house, + and he does not hear when it is opened, and IVY BURLACOMBE, the + farmer's daughter, a girl of fourteen, small and quiet as a + mouse, comes in, a prayer-book in one hand, and in the other a + gloss of water, with wild orchis and a bit of deep pink + hawthorn. She sits down on the window-seat, and having opened + her book, sniffs at the flowers. Coming to the end of the + movement STRANGWAY stops, and looking up at the face on the + wall, heaves a long sigh. + +IVY. [From the seat] I picked these for yu, Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. [Turning with a start] Ah! Ivy. Thank you. [He puts +his flute down on a chair against the far wall] Where are the +others? + + As he speaks, GLADYS FREMAN, a dark gipsyish girl, and CONNIE + TRUSTAFORD, a fair, stolid, blue-eyed Saxon, both about sixteen, + come in through the front door, behind which they have evidently + been listening. They too have prayer-books in their hands. + They sidle past Ivy, and also sit down under the window. + +GLADYS. Mercy's comin', Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. Good morning, Gladys; good morning, Connie. + + He turns to a book-case on a table against the far wall, and + taking out a book, finds his place in it. While he stands thus + with his back to the girls, MERCY JARLAND comes in from the + green. She also is about sixteen, with fair hair and china-blue + eyes. She glides in quickly, hiding something behind her, and + sits down on the seat next the door. And at once there is a + whispering. + +STRANGWAY. [Turning to them] Good morning, Mercy. + +MERCY. Good morning, Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. Now, yesterday I was telling you what our Lord's coming +meant to the world. I want you to understand that before He came +there wasn't really love, as we know it. I don't mean to say that +there weren't many good people; but there wasn't love for the sake of +loving. D'you think you understand what I mean? + + MERCY fidgets. GLADYS'S eyes are following a fly. + +IVY. Yes, Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. It isn't enough to love people because they're good to +you, or because in some way or other you're going to get something by +it. We have to love because we love loving. That's the great thing +--without that we're nothing but Pagans. + +GLADYS. Please, what is Pagans? + +STRANGWAY. That's what the first Christians called the people who +lived in the villages and were not yet Christians, Gladys. + +MERCY. We live in a village, but we're Christians. + +STRANGWAY. [With a smile] Yes, Mercy; and what is a Christian? + + MERCY kicks afoot, sideways against her neighbour, frowns over + her china-blare eyes, is silent; then, as his question passes + on, makes a quick little face, wriggles, and looks behind her. + +STRANGWAY. Ivy? + +IVY. 'Tis a man--whu--whu---- + +STRANGWAY. Yes?--Connie? + +CONNIE. [Who speaks rather thickly, as if she had a permanent slight +cold] Please, Mr. Strangway, 'tis a man what goes to church. + +GLADYS. He 'as to be baptised--and confirmed; and--and--buried. + +IVY. 'Tis a man whu--whu's gude and---- + +GLADYS. He don't drink, an' he don't beat his horses, an' he don't +hit back. + +MERCY. [Whispering] 'Tisn't your turn. [To STRANGWAY] 'Tis a man +like us. + +IVY. I know what Mrs. Strangway said it was, 'cause I asked her +once, before she went away. + +STRANGWAY. [Startled] Yes? + +IVY. She said it was a man whu forgave everything. + +STRANGWAY. Ah! + + The note of a cuckoo comes travelling. The girls are gazing at + STRANGWAY, who seems to have gone of into a dream. They begin + to fidget and whisper. + +CONNIE. Please, Mr. Strangway, father says if yu hit a man and he +don't hit yu back, he's no gude at all. + +MERCY. When Tommy Morse wouldn't fight, us pinched him--he did +squeal! [She giggles] Made me laugh! + +STRANGWAY. Did I ever tell you about St. Francis of Assisi? + +IVY. [Clasping her hands] No. + +STRANGWAY. Well, he was the best Christian, I think, that ever +lived--simply full of love and joy. + +IVY. I expect he's dead. + +STRANGWAY. About seven hundred years, Ivy. + +IVY. [Softly] Oh! + +STRANGWAY. Everything to him was brother or sister--the sun and the +moon, and all that was poor and weak and sad, and animals and birds, +so that they even used to follow him about. + +MERCY. I know! He had crumbs in his pocket. + +STRANGWAY. No; he had love in his eyes. + +IVY. 'Tis like about Orpheus, that yu told us. + +STRANGWAY. Ah! But St. Francis was a Christian, and Orpheus was a +Pagan. + +IVY. Oh! + +STRANGWAY. Orpheus drew everything after him with music; St. +Francis by love. + +IVY. Perhaps it was the same, really. + +STRANGWAY. [looking at his flute] Perhaps it was, Ivy. + +GLADYS. Did 'e 'ave a flute like yu? + +IVY. The flowers smell sweeter when they 'ear music; they du. + + [She holds up the glass of flowers.] + +STRANGWAY. [Touching one of the orchis] What's the name of this +one? + + [The girls cluster; save MERCY, who is taking a stealthy + interest in what she has behind her.] + +CONNIE. We call it a cuckoo, Mr. Strangway. + +GLADYS. 'Tis awful common down by the streams. We've got one medder +where 'tis so thick almost as the goldie cups. + +STRANGWAY. Odd! I've never noticed it. + +IVY. Please, Mr. Strangway, yu don't notice when yu're walkin'; yu +go along like this. + + [She holds up her face as one looking at the sky.] + +STRANGWAY. Bad as that, Ivy? + +IVY. Mrs. Strangway often used to pick it last spring. + +STRANGWAY. Did she? Did she? + + [He has gone off again into a kind of dream.] + +MERCY. I like being confirmed. + +STRANGWAY. Ah! Yes. Now----What's that behind you, Mercy? + +MERCY. [Engagingly producing a cage a little bigger than a +mouse-trap, containing a skylark] My skylark. + +STRANGWAY. What! + +MERCY. It can fly; but we're goin' to clip its wings. Bobbie caught +it. + +STRANGWAY. How long ago? + +MERCY. [Conscious of impending disaster] Yesterday. + +STRANGWAY. [White hot] Give me the cage! + +MERCY. [Puckering] I want my skylark. [As he steps up to her and +takes the cage--thoroughly alarmed] I gave Bobbie thrippence for it! + +STRANGWAY. [Producing a sixpence] There! + +MERCY. [Throwing it down-passionately] I want my skylark! + +STRANGWAY. God made this poor bird for the sky and the grass. And +you put it in that! Never cage any wild thing! Never! + +MERCY. [Faint and sullen] I want my skylark. + +STRANGWAY. [Taking the cage to the door] No! [He holds up the cage +and opens it] Off you go, poor thing! + + [The bird flies out and away. The girls watch with round eyes + the fling up of his arm, and the freed bird flying away.] + +IVY. I'm glad! + + [MERCY kicks her viciously and sobs. STRANGWAY comes from the + door, looks at MERCY sobbing, and suddenly clasps his head. The + girls watch him with a queer mixture of wonder, alarm, and + disapproval.] + +GLADYS. [Whispering] Don't cry, Mercy. Bobbie'll soon catch yu +another. + + [STRANGWAY has dropped his hands, and is looking again at MERCY. + IVY sits with hands clasped, gazing at STRANGWAY. MERCY + continues her artificial sobbing.] + +STRANGWAY. [Quietly] The class is over for to-day. + + [He goes up to MERCY, and holds out his hand. She does not take + it, and runs out knuckling her eyes. STRANGWAY turns on his + heel and goes into the house.] + +CONNIE. 'Twasn't his bird. + +IVY. Skylarks belong to the sky. Mr. Strangway said so. + +GLADYS. Not when they'm caught, they don't. + +IVY. They du. + +CONNIE. 'Twas her bird. + +IVY. He gave her sixpence for it. + +GLADYS. She didn't take it. + +CONNIE. There it is on the ground. + +IVY. She might have. + +GLADYS. He'll p'raps take my squirrel, tu. + +IVY. The bird sang--I 'eard it! Right up in the sky. It wouldn't +have sanged if it weren't glad. + +GLADYS. Well, Mercy cried. + +IVY. I don't care. + +GLADYS. 'Tis a shame! And I know something. Mrs. Strangway's at +Durford. + +CONNIE. She's--never! + +GLADYS. I saw her yesterday. An' if she's there she ought to be +here. I told mother, an' she said: "Yu mind yer business." An' when +she goes in to market to-morrow she'm goin' to see. An' if she's +really there, mother says, 'tis a fine tu-du an' a praaper scandal. +So I know a lot more'n yu du. + + [Ivy stares at her.] + +CONNIE. Mrs. Strangway told mother she was goin' to France for the +winter because her mother was ill. + +GLADYS. 'Tisn't, winter now--Ascension Day. I saw her cumin' out o' +Dr. Desert's house. I know 'twas her because she had on a blue dress +an' a proud luke. Mother says the doctor come over here tu often +before Mrs. Strangway went away, just afore Christmas. They was old +sweethearts before she married Mr. Strangway. [To Ivy] 'Twas yure +mother told mother that. + + [Ivy gazes at them more and more wide-eyed.] + +CONNIE. Father says if Mrs. Bradmere an' the old Rector knew about +the doctor, they wouldn't 'ave Mr. Strangway 'ere for curate any +longer; because mother says it takes more'n a year for a gude wife to +leave her 'usband, an' 'e so fond of her. But 'tisn't no business of +ours, father says. + +GLADYS. Mother says so tu. She's praaper set against gossip. +She'll know all about it to-morrow after market. + +IVY. [Stamping her foot] I don't want to 'ear nothin' at all; I +don't, an' I won't. + + [A rather shame faced silence falls on the girls.] + +GLADYS. [In a quick whisper] 'Ere's Mrs. Burlacombe. + + [There enters fawn the house a stout motherly woman with a round + grey eye and very red cheeks.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Ivy, take Mr. Strangway his ink, or we'll never +'eve no sermon to-night. He'm in his thinkin' box, but 'tis not a +bit o' yuse 'im thinkin' without 'is ink. [She hands her daughter an +inkpot and blotting-pad. Ivy Takes them and goes out] What ever's +this? [She picks up the little bird-cage.] + +GLADYS. 'Tis Mercy Jarland's. Mr. Strangway let her skylark go. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! Did 'e now? Serve 'er right, bringin' an +'eathen bird to confirmation class. + +CONNIE. I'll take it to her. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. No. Yu leave it there, an' let Mr. Strangway du +what 'e likes with it. Bringin' a bird like that! Well 'I never! + + [The girls, perceiving that they have lighted on stony soil, + look at each other and slide towards the door.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Yes, yu just be off, an' think on what yu've been +told in class, an' be'ave like Christians, that's gude maids. An' +don't yu come no more in the 'avenin's dancin' them 'eathen dances in +my barn, naighther, till after yu'm confirmed--'tisn't right. I've +told Ivy I won't 'ave it. + +CONNIE. Mr. Strangway don't mind--he likes us to; 'twas Mrs. +Strangway began teachin' us. He's goin' to give a prize. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Yu just du what I tell yu an' never mind Mr. +Strangway--he'm tu kind to everyone. D'yu think I don't know how +gells oughter be'ave before confirmation? Yu be'ave like I did! +Now, goo ahn! Shoo! + + [She hustles them out, rather as she might hustle her chickens, + and begins tidying the room. There comes a wandering figure to + the open window. It is that of a man of about thirty-five, of + feeble gait, leaning the weight of all one side of him on a + stick. His dark face, with black hair, one lock of which has + gone white, was evidently once that of an ardent man. Now it is + slack, weakly smiling, and the brown eyes are lost, and seem + always to be asking something to which there is no answer.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [With that forced cheerfulness always assumed in +the face of too great misfortune] Well, Jim! better? [At the faint +brightening of the smile] That's right! Yu'm gettin' on bravely. +Want Parson? + +JIM. [Nodding and smiling, and speaking slowly] I want to tell 'un +about my cat. + + [His face loses its smile.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Why! what's she been duin' then? Mr. Strangway's +busy. Won't I du? + +JIM. [Shaking his head] No. I want to tell him. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Whatever she been duin'? Havin' kittens? + +JIM. No. She'm lost. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Dearie me! Aw! she'm not lost. Cats be like +maids; they must get out a bit. + +JIM. She'm lost. Maybe he'll know where she'll be. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Well, well. I'll go an' find 'im. + +JIM. He's a gude man. He's very gude. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. That's certain zure. + +STRANGWAY. [Entering from the house] Mrs. Burlacombe, I can't think +where I've put my book on St. Francis--the large, squarish pale-blue +one? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! there now! I knu there was somethin' on me +mind. Miss Willis she came in yesterday afternune when yu was out, +to borrow it. Oh! yes--I said--I'm zure Mr. Strangway'll lend it +'ee. Now think o' that! + +STRANGWAY. Of course, Mrs. Burlacombe; very glad she's got it. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! but that's not all. When I tuk it up there +come out a whole flutter o' little bits o' paper wi' little rhymes on +'em, same as I see yu writin'. Aw! my gudeness! I says to meself, +Mr. Strangway widn' want no one seein' them. + +STRANGWAY. Dear me! No; certainly not! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. An' so I putt 'em in your secretary. + +STRANGWAY. My-ah! Yes. Thank you; yes. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. But I'll goo over an' get the buke for yu. +'T won't take me 'alf a minit. + + [She goes out on to the green. JIM BERE has come in.] + +STRANGWAY. [Gently] Well, Jim? + +JIM. My cat's lost. + +STRANGWAY. Lost? + +JIM. Day before yesterday. She'm not come back. They've shot 'er, +I think; or she'm caught in one o' they rabbit-traps. + +STRANGWAY. Oh! no; my dear fellow, she'll come back. I'll speak to +Sir Herbert's keepers. + +JIM. Yes, zurr. I feel lonesome without 'er. + +STRANGWAY. [With a faint smile--more to himself than to Jim] +Lonesome! Yes! That's bad, Jim! That's bad! + +JIM. I miss 'er when I sits than in the avenin'. + +STRANGWAY. The evenings----They're the worst----and when the +blackbirds sing in the morning. + +JIM. She used to lie on my bed, ye know, zurr. + + [STRANGWAY turns his face away, contracted with pain] + +She'm like a Christian. + +STRANGWAY. The beasts are. + +JIM. There's plenty folk ain't 'alf as Christian as 'er be. + +STRANGWAY. Well, dear Jim, I'll do my very best. And any time +you're lonely, come up, and I'll play the flute to you. + +JIM. [Wriggling slightly] No, zurr. Thank 'ee, zurr. + +STRANGWAY. What--don't you like music? + +JIM. Ye-es, zurr. [A figure passes the window. Seeing it he says +with his slow smile] "'Ere's Mrs. Bradmere, comin' from the Rectory." +[With queer malice] She don't like cats. But she'm a cat 'erself, I +think. + +STRANGWAY. [With his smile] Jim! + +JIM. She'm always tellin' me I'm lukin' better. I'm not better, +zurr. + +STRANGWAY. That's her kindness. + +JIM. I don't think it is. 'Tis laziness, an' 'avin' 'er own way. +She'm very fond of 'er own way. + + [A knock on the door cuts off his speech. Following closely on + the knock, as though no doors were licensed to be closed against + her, a grey-haired lady enters; a capable, broad-faced woman of + seventy, whose every tone and movement exhales authority. With + a nod and a "good morning" to STRANGWAY she turns at face to JIM + BERE.] + +MRS. BRADMERE Ah! Jim; you're looking better. + + [JIM BERE shakes his head. MRS. BRADMERE. Oh! yes, you are. + Getting on splendidly. And now, I just want to speak to Mr. + Strangway.] + + [JIM BERE touches his forelock, and slowly, leaning on his + stick, goes out.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Waiting for the door to close] You know how that +came on him? Caught the girl he was engaged to, one night, with +another man, the rage broke something here. [She touches her +forehead] Four years ago. + +STRANGWAY. Poor fellow! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Looking at him sharply] Is your wife back? + +STRANGWAY. [Starting] No. + +MRS. BRADMERE. By the way, poor Mrs. Cremer--is she any better? + +STRANGWAY. No; going fast: Wonderful--so patient. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [With gruff sympathy] Um! Yes. They know how to +die! [Wide another sharp look at him] D'you expect your wife soon? + +STRANGWAY. I I--hope so. + +MRS. BRADMERE: So do I. The sooner the better. + +STRANGWAY. [Shrinking] I trust the Rector's not suffering so much +this morning? + +MRS. BRADMERE. Thank you! His foot's very bad. + + [As she speaks Mrs. BURLACOMBE returns with a large pale-blue + book in her bared.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Good day, M'm! [Taking the book across to +STRANGWAY] Miss Willie, she says she'm very sorry, zurr. + +STRANGWAY. She was very welcome, Mrs. Burlacombe. [To MRS. +BURLACOMBE] Forgive me--my sermon. + + [He goes into the house. The two women graze after him. Then, + at once, as it were, draw into themselves, as if preparing for + an encounter, and yet seem to expand as if losing the need for + restraint.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Abruptly] He misses his wife very much, I'm afraid. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Ah! Don't he? Poor dear man; he keeps a terrible +tight 'and over 'imself, but 'tis suthin' cruel the way he walks +about at night. He'm just like a cow when its calf's weaned. 'T'as +gone to me 'eart truly to see 'im these months past. T'other day +when I went up to du his rume, I yeard a noise like this [she +sniffs]; an' ther' 'e was at the wardrobe, snuffin' at 'er things. I +did never think a man cud care for a woman so much as that. + +MRS. BRADMERE. H'm! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tis funny rest an' 'e comin' 'ere for quiet after +that tearin' great London parish! 'E'm terrible absent-minded tu +--don't take no interest in 'is fude. Yesterday, goin' on for one +o'clock, 'e says to me, "I expect 'tis nearly breakfast-time, Mrs. +Burlacombe!" 'E'd 'ad it twice already! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Twice! Nonsense! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Zurely! I give 'im a nummit afore 'e gets up; an' +'e 'as 'is brekjus reg'lar at nine. Must feed un up. He'm on 'is +feet all day, gain' to zee folk that widden want to zee an angel, +they're that busy; an' when 'e comes in 'e'll play 'is flute there. +Hem wastin' away for want of 'is wife. That's what 'tis. An' 'im so +sweet-spoken, tu, 'tes a pleasure to year 'im--Never says a word! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Yes, that's the kind of man who gets treated badly. +I'm afraid she's not worthy of him, Mrs. Burlacombe. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Plaiting her apron] 'Tesn't for me to zay that. +She'm a very pleasant lady. + +MRS. BRADMERE Too pleasant. What's this story about her being seen +in Durford? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! I du never year no gossip, m'm. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Drily] Of course not! But you see the Rector +wishes to know. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Flustered] Well--folk will talk! But, as I says +to Burlacombe--"'Tes paltry," I says; and they only married eighteen +months, and Mr. Strangway so devoted-like. 'Tes nothing but love, +with 'im. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Come! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. There's puzzivantin' folk as'll set an' gossip the +feathers off an angel. But I du never listen. + +MRS. BRADMERE Now then, Mrs. Burlacombe? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Well, they du say as how Dr. Desart over to Durford +and Mrs. Strangway was sweethearts afore she wer' married. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I knew that. Who was it saw her coming out of Dr. +Desart's house yesterday? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. In a manner of spakin' 'tes Mrs. Freman that says +'er Gladys seen her. + +MRS. BRADMERE. That child's got an eye like a hawk. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes wonderful how things du spread. 'Tesn't as if +us gossiped. Du seem to grow-like in the naight. + +MRS. BRADMERE [To herself] I never lied her. That Riviera excuse, +Mrs. Burlacombe--Very convenient things, sick mothers. Mr. +Strangway doesn't know? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. The Lord forbid! 'Twid send un crazy, I think. +For all he'm so moony an' gentlelike, I think he'm a terrible +passionate man inside. He've a-got a saint in 'im, for zure; but +'tes only 'alf-baked, in a manner of spakin'. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I shall go and see Mrs. Freman. There's been too +much of this gossip all the winter. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes unfortunate-like 'tes the Fremans. Freman +he'm a gipsy sort of a feller; and he've never forgiven Mr. Strangway +for spakin' to 'im about the way he trates 'is 'orses. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Ah! I'm afraid Mr. Strangway's not too discreet when +his feelings are touched. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'E've a-got an 'eart so big as the full mune. But +'tes no yuse espectin' tu much o' this world. 'Tes a funny place, +after that. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Yes, Mrs. Burlacombe; and I shall give some of these +good people a rare rap over the knuckles for their want of charity. +For all they look as if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, they're +an un-Christian lot. [Looking very directly at Mrs. BURLACOMBE] +It's lucky we've some hold over the village. I'm not going to have +scandal. I shall speak to Sir Herbert, and he and the Rector will +take steps. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [With covert malice] Aw! I du hope 'twon't upset +the Rector, an' 'is fute so poptious! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Grimly] His foot'll be sound enough to come down +sharp. By the way, will you send me a duck up to the Rectory? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Glad to get away] Zurely, m'm; at once. I've +some luv'ly fat birds. + + [She goes into the house.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Old puss-cat! + + [She turns to go, and in the doorway encounters a very little, + red-cheeked girl in a peacock-blue cap, and pink frock, who + curtsies stolidly.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Well, Tibby Jarland, what do you want here? Always +sucking something, aren't you? + + [Getting no reply from Tibby JARLAND, she passes out. Tibby + comes in, looks round, takes a large sweet out of her mouth, + contemplates it, and puts it back again. Then, in a perfunctory + and very stolid fashion, she looks about the floor, as if she + had been told to find something. While she is finding nothing + and sucking her sweet, her sister MERCY comes in furtively, + still frowning and vindictive.] + +MERCY. What! Haven't you found it, Tibby? Get along with 'ee, +then! + + [She accelerates the stolid Tissy's departure with a smack, + searches under the seat, finds and picks up the deserted + sixpence. Then very quickly she goes to the door: But it is + opened before she reaches it, and, finding herself caught, she + slips behind the chintz window-curtain. A woman has entered, + who is clearly the original of the large photograph. She is not + strictly pretty, but there is charm in her pale, resolute face, + with its mocking lips, flexible brows, and greenish eyes, whose + lids, square above them, have short, dark lashes. She is + dressed in blue, and her fair hair is coiled up under a cap and + motor-veil. She comes in swiftly, and closes the door behind + her; becomes irresolute; then, suddenly deciding, moves towards + the door into the house. MERCY slips from behind her curtain to + make off, but at that moment the door into the house is opened, + and she has at once to slip back again into covert. It is Ivy + who has appeared.] + +IVY. [Amazed] Oh! Mrs. Strangway! + + [Evidently disconcerted by this appearance, BEATRICE STRANGWAY + pulls herself together and confronts the child with a smile.] + +BEATRICE. Well, Ivy--you've grown! You didn't expect me, did you? + +IVY. No, Mrs. Strangway; but I hoped yu'd be comin' soon. + +BEATRICE. Ah! Yes. Is Mr. Strangway in? + +IVY. [Hypnotized by those faintly smiling lips] Yes--oh, yes! He's +writin' his sermon in the little room. He will be glad! + +BEATRICE. [Going a little closer, and never taking her eyes off the +child] Yes. Now, Ivy; will you do something for me? + +IVY. [Fluttering] Oh, yes, Mrs. Strangway. + +BEATRICE. Quite sure? + +IVY. Oh, yes! + +BEATRICE. Are you old enough to keep a secret? + +IVY. [Nodding] I'm fourteen now. + +BEATRICE. Well, then--, I don't want anybody but Mr. Strangway to +know I've been here; nobody, not even your mother. D'you understand? + +IVY. [Troubled] No. Only, I can keep a secret. + +BEATRICE. Mind, if anybody hears, it will hurt Mr. Strangway. + +IVY. Oh! I wouldn't--hurt--him. Must yu go away again? [Trembling +towards her] I wish yu wer goin' to stay. And perhaps some one has +seen yu--They---- + +BEATRICE. [Hastily] No, no one. I came motoring; like this. [She +moves her veil to show how it can conceal her face] And I came +straight down the little lane, and through the barn, across the yard. + +IVY. [Timidly] People du see a lot. + +BEATRICE. [Still with that hovering smile] I know, but----Now go +and tell him quickly and quietly. + +IVY. [Stopping at the door] Mother's pluckin' a duck. Only, +please, Mrs. Strangway, if she comes in even after yu've gone, she'll +know, because--because yu always have that particular nice scent. + +BEATRICE. Thank you, my child. I'll see to that. + + [Ivy looks at her as if she would speak again, then turns + suddenly, and goes out. BEATRICE'S face darkens; she shivers. + Taking out a little cigarette case, she lights a cigarette, and + watches the puff's of smoke wreathe shout her and die away. The + frightened MERCY peers out, spying for a chance, to escape. + Then from the house STRANGWAY comes in. All his dreaminess is + gone.] + +STRANGWAY. Thank God! [He stops at the look on her face] I don't +understand, though. I thought you were still out there. + +BEATRICE. [Letting her cigarette fall, and putting her foot on it] +No. + +STRANGWAY: You're staying? Oh! Beatrice; come! We'll get away from +here at once--as far, as far--anywhere you like. Oh! my darling +--only come! If you knew---- + +BEATRICE. It's no good, Michael; I've tried and tried. + +STRANGWAY. Not! Then, why--? Beatrice! You said, when you were +right away--I've waited---- + +BEATRICE. I know. It's cruel--it's horrible. But I told you not to +hope, Michael. I've done my best. All these months at Mentone, I've +been wondering why I ever let you marry me--when that feeling wasn't +dead! + +STRANGWAY. You can't have come back just to leave me again? + +BEATRICE. When you let me go out there with mother I thought--I did +think I would be able; and I had begun--and then--spring came! + +STRANGWAY. Spring came here too! Never so--aching! Beatrice, can't +you? + +BEATRICE. I've something to say. + +STRANGWAY. No! No! No! + +BEATRICE. You see--I've--fallen. + +STRANGWAY. Ah! [In a twice sharpened by pain] Why, in the name of +mercy, come here to tell me that? Was he out there, then? + +BEATRICE. I came straight back to him. + +STRANGWAY. To Durford? + +BEATRICE. To the Crossway Hotel, miles out--in my own name. They +don't know me there. I told you not to hope, Michael. I've done my +best; I swear it. + +STRANGWAY. My God! + +BEATRICE. It was your God that brought us to live near him! + +STRANGWAY. Why have you come to me like this? + +BEATRICE. To know what you're going to do. Are you going to divorce +me? We're in your power. Don't divorce me--Doctor and patient--you +must know--it ruins him. He'll lose everything. He'd be +disqualified, and he hasn't a penny without his work. + +STRANGWAY. Why should I spare him? + +BEATRICE. Michael; I came to beg. It's hard. + +STRANGWAY. No; don't beg! I can't stand it. + + [She shakes her head.] + +BEATRICE. [Recovering her pride] What are you going to do, then? +Keep us apart by the threat of a divorce? Starve us and prison us? +Cage me up here with you? I'm not brute enough to ruin him. + +STRANGWAY. Heaven! + +BEATRICE. I never really stopped loving him. I never--loved you, +Michael. + +STRANGWAY. [Stunned] Is that true? [BEATRICE bends her head] +Never loved me? Not--that night--on the river--not----? + +BEATRICE. [Under her breath] No. + +STRANGWAY. Were you lying to me, then? Kissing me, and--hating me? + +BEATRICE. One doesn't hate men like you; but it wasn't love. + +STRANGWAY. Why did you tell me it was? + +BEATRICE. Yes. That was the worst thing I've ever done. + +STRANGWAY. Do you think I would have married you? I would have +burned first! I never dreamed you didn't. I swear it! + +BEATRICE. [Very low] Forget it! + +STRANGWAY. Did he try to get you away from me? [BEATRICE gives him +a swift look] Tell me the truth! + +BEATRICE. No. It was--I--alone. But--he loves me. + +STRANGWAY. One does not easily know love, it seems. + + [But her smile, faint, mysterious, pitying, is enough, and he + turns away from her.] + +BEATRICE. It was cruel to come, I know. For me, too. But I +couldn't write. I had to know. + +STRANGWAY. Never loved me? Never loved me? That night at Tregaron? +[At the look on her face] You might have told me before you went +away! Why keep me all these---- + +BEATRICE. I meant to forget him again. I did mean to. I thought I +could get back to what I was, when I married you; but, you see, what +a girl can do, a woman that's been married--can't. + +STRANGWAY. Then it was I--my kisses that----! [He laughs] How did +you stand them? [His eyes dart at her face] Imagination helped you, +perhaps! + +BEATRICE. Michael, don't, don't! And--oh! don't make a public thing +of it! You needn't be afraid I shall have too good a time! + + [He stays quite still and silent, and that which is writhing in + him makes his face so strange that BEATRICE stands aghast. At + last she goes stumbling on in speech] + +If ever you want to marry some one else--then, of course--that's only +fair, ruin or not. But till then--till then----He's leaving +Durford, going to Brighton. No one need know. And you--this isn't +the only parish in the world. + +STRANGWAY. [Quietly] You ask me to help you live in secret with +another man? + +BEATRICE. I ask for mercy. + +STRANGWAY. [As to himself] What am I to do? + +BEATRICE. What you feel in the bottom of your heart. + +STRANGWAY. You ask me to help you live in sin? + +BEATRICE. To let me go out of your life. You've only to do-- +nothing. [He goes, slowly, close to her.] + +STRANGWAY. I want you. Come back to me! Beatrice, come back! + +BEATRICE. It would be torture, now. + +STRANGWAY. [Writhing] Oh! + +BEATRICE. Whatever's in your heart--do! + +STRANGWAY. You'd come back to me sooner than ruin him? Would you? + +BEATRICE. I can't bring him harm. + +STRANGWAY. [Turning away] God!--if there be one help me! [He +stands leaning his forehead against the window. Suddenly his glance +falls on the little bird cage, still lying on the window-seat] Never +cage any wild thing! [He gives a laugh that is half a sob; then, +turning to the door, says in a low voice] Go! Go please, quickly! +Do what you will. I won't hurt you--can't----But--go! [He opens +the door.] + +BEATRICE. [Greatly moved] Thank you! + + [She passes him with her head down, and goes out quickly. + STRANGWAY stands unconsciously tearing at the little bird-cage. + And while he tears at it he utters a moaning sound. The + terrified MERCY, peering from behind the curtain, and watching + her chance, slips to the still open door; but in her haste and + fright she knocks against it, and STRANGWAY sees her. Before he + can stop her she has fled out on to the green and away.] + + [While he stands there, paralysed, the door from the house is + opened, and MRS. BURLACOMBE approaches him in a queer, hushed + way.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Her eyes mechanically fixed on the twisted +bird-cage in his hands] 'Tis poor Sue Cremer, zurr, I didn't 'ardly +think she'd last thru the mornin'. An' zure enough she'm passed +away! [Seeing that he has not taken in her words] Mr. Strangway-- +yu'm feelin' giddy? + +STRANGWAY. No, no! What was it? You said---- + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes Jack Cremer. His wife's gone. 'E'm in a +terrible way. 'Tes only yu, 'e ses, can du 'im any gude. He'm in +the kitchen. + +STRANGWAY. Cremer? Yes! Of course. Let him---- + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Still staring at the twisted cage] Yu ain't +wantin' that--'tes all twizzled. [She takes it from him] Sure yu'm +not feelin' yer 'ead? + +STRANGWAY. [With a resolute effort] No! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Doubtfully] I'll send 'im in, then. [She goes. +When she is gone, Strangway passes his handkerchief across his +forehead, and his lips move fast. He is standing motionless when +CREMER, a big man in labourer's clothes, with a thick, broad face, +and tragic, faithful eyes, comes in, and stands a little in from the +closed door, quite dumb.] + +STRANGWAY. [After a moment's silence--going up to him and laying a +hand on his shoulder] Jack! Don't give way. If we give way--we're +done. + +CREMER. Yes, zurr. [A quiver passes over his face.] + +STRANGWAY. She didn't. Your wife was a brave woman. A dear woman. + +CREMER. I never thought to luse 'er. She never told me 'ow bad she +was, afore she tuk to 'er bed. 'Tis a dreadful thing to luse a wife, +zurr. + +STRANGWAY. [Tightening his lips, that tremble] Yes. But don't give +way! Bear up, Jack! + +CREMER. Seems funny 'er goin' blue-bell time, an' the sun shinin' so +warm. I picked up an 'orse-shu yesterday. I can't never 'ave 'er +back, zurr. + + [His face quivers again.] + +STRANGWAY. Some day you'll join her. Think! Some lose their wives +for ever. + +CREMER. I don't believe as there's a future life, zurr. I think we +goo to sleep like the beasts. + +STRANGWAY. We're told otherwise. But come here! [Drawing him to +the window] Look! Listen! To sleep in that! Even if we do, it +won't be so bad, Jack, will it? + +CREMER. She wer' a gude wife to me--no man didn't 'ave no better +wife. + +STRANGWAY. [Putting his hand out] Take hold--hard--harder! I want +yours as much as you want mine. Pray for me, Jack, and I'll pray for +you. And we won't give way, will we? + +CREMER. [To whom the strangeness of these words has given some +relief] No, zurr; thank 'ee, zurr. 'Tes no gude, I expect. Only, +I'll miss 'er. Thank 'ee, zurr; kindly. + + [He lifts his hand to his head, turns, and uncertainly goes out + to the kitchen. And STRANGWAY stays where he is, not knowing + what to do. They blindly he takes up his flute, and hatless, + hurries out into the air.] + + + + + +ACT II + + +SCENE I + + About seven o'clock in the taproom of the village inn. The bar, + with the appurtenances thereof, stretches across one end, and + opposite is the porch door on to the green. The wall between is + nearly all window, with leaded panes, one wide-open casement + whereof lets in the last of the sunlight. A narrow bench runs + under this broad window. And this is all the furniture, save + three spittoons: + + GODLEIGH, the innkeeper, a smallish man with thick ruffled hair, + a loquacious nose, and apple-red cheeks above a reddish-brown + moustache; is reading the paper. To him enters TIBBY JARLAND + with a shilling in her mouth. + +GODLEIGH. Well, TIBBY JARLAND, what've yu come for, then? Glass o' +beer? + + [TIBBY takes the shilling from her mouth and smiles stolidly.] + +GODLEIGH. [Twinkling] I shid zay glass o' 'arf an' 'arf's about +yure form. [TIBBY smiles more broadly] Yu'm a praaper masterpiece. +Well! 'Ave sister Mercy borrowed yure tongue? [TIBBY shakes her +head] Aw, she 'aven't. Well, maid? + +TIBBY. Father wants six clay pipes, please. + +GODLEIGH. 'E du, du 'ee? Yu tell yure father 'e can't 'ave more'n +one, not this avenin'. And 'ere 'tis. Hand up yure shillin'. + + [TIBBY reaches up her hand, parts with the shilling, and + receives a long clay pipe and eleven pennies. In order to + secure the coins in her pinafore she places the clay pipe in her + mouth. While she is still thus engaged, MRS. BRADMERE enters + the porch and comes in. TIBBY curtsies stolidly.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Gracious, child! What are you doing here? And what +have you got in your mouth? Who is it? Tibby Jarland? [TIBBY +curtsies again] Take that thing out. And tell your father from me +that if I ever see you at the inn again I shall tread on his toes +hard. Godleigh, you know the law about children? + +GODLEIGH. [Cocking his eye, and not at all abashed] Surely, m'm. +But she will come. Go away, my dear. + + [TIBBY, never taking her eyes off MRS. BRADMERE, or the pipe + from her mouth, has backed stolidly to the door, and vanished.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Eyeing GODLEIGH] Now, Godleigh, I've come to talk +to you. Half the scandal that goes about the village begins here. +[She holds up her finger to check expostulation] No, no--its no +good. You know the value of scandal to your business far too well. + +GODLEIGH. Wi' all respect, m'm, I knows the vally of it to yourn, +tu. + +MRS. BRADMERE. What do you mean by that? + +GODLEIGH. If there weren't no Rector's lady there widden' be no +notice taken o' scandal; an' if there weren't no notice taken, +twidden be scandal, to my thinkin'. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Winking out a grim little smile] Very well! You've +given me your views. Now for mine. There's a piece of scandal going +about that's got to be stopped, Godleigh. You turn the tap of it off +here, or we'll turn your tap off. You know me. See? + +GODLEIGH. I shouldn' never presume, m'm, to know a lady. + +MRS. BRADMERE. The Rector's quite determined, so is Sir Herbert. +Ordinary scandal's bad enough, but this touches the Church. While +Mr. Strangway remains curate here, there must be no talk about him +and his affairs. + +GODLEIGH. [Cocking his eye] I was just thinkin' how to du it, m'm. +'Twid be a brave notion to putt the men in chokey, and slit the +women's tongues-like, same as they du in outlandish places, as I'm +told. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Don't talk nonsense, Godleigh; and mind what I say, +because I mean it. + +GODLEIGH. Make yure mind aisy, m'm there'll be no scandal-monkeyin' +here wi' my permission. + + [MRS. BRADMERE gives him a keen stare, but seeing him perfectly + grave, nods her head with approval.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Good! You know what's being said, of course? + +GODLEIGH. [With respectful gravity] Yu'll pardon me, m'm, but ef +an' in case yu was goin' to tell me, there's a rule in this 'ouse: +"No scandal 'ere!" + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Twinkling grimly] You're too smart by half, my man. + +GODLEIGH. Aw fegs, no, m'm--child in yure 'ands. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I wouldn't trust you a yard. Once more, Godleigh! +This is a Christian village, and we mean it to remain so. You look +out for yourself. + + [The door opens to admit the farmers TRUSTAFORD and BURLACOMBE. + They doff their hats to MRS. BRADMERE, who, after one more sharp + look at GODLEIGH, moves towards the door.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Evening, Mr. Trustaford. [To BURLACOMBE] +Burlacombe, tell your wife that duck she sent up was in hard +training. + + [With one of her grim winks, and a nod, she goes.] + +TRUSTAFORD. [Replacing a hat which is black, hard, and not very new, +on his long head, above a long face, clean-shaved but for little +whiskers] What's the old grey mare want, then? [With a horse-laugh] +'Er's lukin' awful wise! + +GODLEIGH. [Enigmatically] Ah! + +TRUSTAFORD. [Sitting on the bench dose to the bar] Drop o' whisky, +an' potash. + +BURLACOMBE. [A taciturn, alien, yellowish man, in a worn soft hat] +What's wise, Godleigh? Drop o' cider. + +GODLEIGH. Nuse? There's never no nuse in this 'ouse. Aw, no! Not +wi' my permission. [In imitation] This is a Christian village. + +TRUSTAFORD. Thought the old grey mare seemed mighty busy. [To +BURLACOMBE] 'Tes rather quare about the curate's wife a-cumin' +motorin' this mornin'. Passed me wi' her face all smothered up in a +veil, goggles an' all. Haw, haw! + +BURLACOMBE. Aye! + +TRUSTAFORD. Off again she was in 'alf an hour. 'Er didn't give poor +old curate much of a chance, after six months. + +GODLEIGH. Havin' an engagement elsewhere--No scandal, please, +gentlemen. + +BURLACOMBE. [Acidly] Never asked to see my missis. Passed me in +the yard like a stone. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes a little bit rumoursome lately about 'er doctor. + +GODLEIGH. Ah! he's the favourite. But 'tes a dead secret; Mr. +Trustaford. Don't yu never repate it--there's not a cat don't know +it already! + +BURLACOMBE frowns, and TRUSTAFORD utters his laugh. The door is +opened and FREMAN, a dark gipsyish man in the dress of a farmer, +comes in. + +GODLEIGH. Don't yu never tell Will Freman what 'e told me! + +FREMAN. Avenin'! + +TRUSTAFORD. Avenin', Will; what's yure glass o' trouble? + +FREMAN. Drop o' eider, clove, an' dash o' gin. There's blood in the +sky to-night. + +BURLACOMBE. Ah! We'll 'ave fine weather now, with the full o' the +mune. + +FREMAN. Dust o' wind an' a drop or tu, virst, I reckon. 'Earl t' +nuse about curate an' 'is wife? + +GODLEIGH. No, indeed; an' don't yu tell us. We'm Christians 'ere in +this village. + +FREMAN. 'Tain't no very Christian nuse, neither. He's sent 'er off +to th' doctor. "Go an' live with un," 'e says; "my blessin' on ye." +If 'er'd a-been mine, I'd 'a tuk the whip to 'er. Tam Jarland's +maid, she yeard it all. Christian, indeed! That's brave +Christianity! "Goo an' live with un!" 'e told 'er. + +BURLACOMBE. No, no; that's not sense--a man to say that. I'll not +'ear that against a man that bides in my 'ouse. + +FREMAN. 'Tes sure, I tell 'ee. The maid was hid-up, scared-like, +behind the curtain. At it they went, and parson 'e says: "Go," 'e +says, "I won't kape 'ee from 'im," 'e says, "an' I won't divorce 'ee, +as yu don't wish it!" They was 'is words, same as Jarland's maid +told my maid, an' my maid told my missis. If that's parson's talk, +'tes funny work goin' to church. + +TRUSTAFORD. [Brooding] 'Tes wonderful quare, zurely. + +FREMAN. Tam Jarland's fair mad wi' curate for makin' free wi' his +maid's skylark. Parson or no parson, 'e've no call to meddle wi' +other people's praperty. He cam' pokin' 'is nose into my affairs. I +told un I knew a sight more 'bout 'orses than 'e ever would! + +TRUSTAFORD. He'm a bit crazy 'bout bastes an' birds. + + [They have been so absorbed that they bane not noticed the + entrance of CLYST, a youth with tousled hair, and a bright, + quick, Celtic eye, who stands listening, with a bit of paper in + his hand.] + +CLYST. Ah! he'm that zurely, Mr. Trustaford. + + [He chuckles.] + +GODLEIGH. Now, Tim Clyst, if an' in case yu've a-got some scandal on +yer tongue, don't yu never unship it here. Yu go up to Rectory where +'twill be more relished-like. + +CLYST. [Waving the paper] Will y' give me a drink for this, Mr. +Godleigh? 'Tes rale funny. Aw! 'tes somethin' swats. Butiful +readin'. Poetry. Rale spice. Yu've a luv'ly voice for readin', Mr. +Godleigh. + +GODLEIGH. [All ears and twinkle] Aw, what is it then? + +CLYST. Ah! Yu want t'know tu much. + + [Putting the paper in his pocket.] + + [While he is speaking, JIM BERE has entered quietly, with his + feeble step and smile, and sits down.] + +CLYST. [Kindly] Hello, Jim! Cat come 'ome? + +JIM BERE. No. + + [All nod, and speak to him kindly. And JIM BERE smiles at them, + and his eyes ask of them the question, to which there is no + answer. And after that he sits motionless and silent, and they + talk as if he were not there.] + +GODLEIGH. What's all this, now--no scandal in my 'ouse! + +CLYST. 'Tes awful peculiar--like a drame. Mr. Burlacombe 'e don't +like to hear tell about drames. A guess a won't tell 'ee, arter +that. + +FREMAN. Out wi' it, Tim. + +CLYST. 'Tes powerful thirsty to-day, Mr. Godleigh. + +GODLEIGH. [Drawing him some cider] Yu're all wild cat's talk, Tim; +yu've a-got no tale at all. + +CLYST. [Moving for the cider] Aw, indade! + +GODLEIGH. No tale, no cider! + +CLYST. Did ye ever year tell of Orphus? + +TRUSTAFORD. What? The old vet. up to Drayleigh? + +CLYST. Fegs, no; Orphus that lived in th' old time, an' drawed the +bastes after un wi' his music, same as curate was tellin' the maids. + +FREMAN. I've 'eard as a gipsy over to Vellacott could du that wi' +'is viddle. + +CLYST. 'Twas no gipsy I see'd this arternune; 'twee Orphus, down to +Mr. Burlacombe's long medder; settin' there all dark on a stone among +the dimsy-white flowers an' the cowflops, wi' a bird upon 'is 'ead, +playin' his whistle to the ponies. + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] Yu did never zee a man wi' a bird on 'is 'ead. + +CLYST. Didn' I? + +FREMAN. What sort o' bird, then? Yu tell me that. + +TRUSTAFORD. Praaper old barndoor cock. Haw, haw! + +GODLEIGH. [Soothingly] 'Tes a vairy-tale; us mustn't be tu +partic'lar. + +BURLACOMBE: In my long medder? Where were yu, then, Tim Clyst? + +CLYST. Passin' down the lane on my bike. Wonderful sorrowful-fine +music 'e played. The ponies they did come round 'e--yu cud zee the +tears rennin' down their chakes; 'twas powerful sad. 'E 'adn't no +'at on. + +FREMAN. [Jeering] No; 'e 'ad a bird on 'is 'ead. + +CLYST. [With a silencing grin] He went on playin' an' playin'. The +ponies they never muved. An' all the dimsy-white flowers they waved +and waved, an' the wind it went over 'em. Gav' me a funny feelin'. + +GODLEIGH. Clyst, yu take the cherry bun! + +CLYST. Where's that cider, Mr. Godleigh? + +GODLEIGH. [Bending over the cider] Yu've a-- 'ad tu much already, +Tim. + + [The door is opened, and TAM JARLAND appears. He walks rather + unsteadily; a man with a hearty jowl, and sullen, strange; + epileptic-looking eyes.] + +CLYST. [Pointing to JARLAND] 'Tis Tam Jarland there 'as the cargo +aboard. + +JARLAND. Avenin', all! [To GODLEIGH] Pinto' beer. [To JIM BERE] +Avenin', Jim. + + [JIM BERE looks at him and smiles.] + +GODLEIGH. [Serving him after a moment's hesitation] 'Ere y'are, +Tam. [To CLYST, who has taken out his paper again] Where'd yu get +thiccy paper? + +CLYST. [Putting down his cider-mug empty] Yure tongue du watter, +don't it, Mr. Godleigh? [Holding out his mug] No zider, no poetry. +'Tis amazin' sorrowful; Shakespeare over again. "The boy stude on +the burnin' deck." + +FREMAN. Yu and yer yap! + +CLYST. Ah! Yu wait a bit. When I come back down t'lane again, +Orphus 'e was vanished away; there was naught in the field but the +ponies, an' a praaper old magpie, a-top o' the hedge. I zee +somethin' white in the beak o' the fowl, so I giv' a "Whisht," an' +'e drops it smart, an' off 'e go. I gets over bank an' picks un up, +and here't be. + + [He holds out his mug.] + +BURLACOMBE. [Tartly] Here, give 'im 'is cider. Rade it yureself, +ye young teasewings. + + [CLYST, having secured his cider, drinks it o$. Holding up the + paper to the light, he makes as if to begin, then slides his + eye round, tantalizing.] + +CLYST. 'Tes a pity I bain't dressed in a white gown, an' flowers in +me 'air. + +FREMAN. Read it, or we'll 'aye yu out o' this. + +CLYST. Aw, don't 'ee shake my nerve, now! + + [He begins reading with mock heroism, in his soft, high, burring + voice. Thus, in his rustic accent, go the lines] + + God lighted the zun in 'eaven far. + Lighted the virefly an' the star. + My 'eart 'E lighted not! + + God lighted the vields fur lambs to play, + Lighted the bright strames, 'an the may. + My 'eart 'E lighted not! + + God lighted the mune, the Arab's way, + He lights to-morrer, an' to-day. + My 'eart 'E 'ath vorgot! + + [When he has finished, there is silence. Then TRUSTAFORD, + scratching his head, speaks:] + +TAUSTAFORD. 'Tes amazin' funny stuff. + +FREMAN. [Looking over CLYST'S shoulder] Be danged! 'Tes the +curate's 'andwritin'. 'Twas curate wi' the ponies, after that. + +CLYST. Fancy, now! Aw, Will Freman, an't yu bright! + +FREMAN. But 'e 'adn't no bird on 'is 'ead. + +CLYST. Ya-as, 'e 'ad. + +JARLAND. [In a dull, threatening voice] 'E 'ad my maid's bird, this +arternune. 'Ead or no, and parson or no, I'll gie 'im one for that. + +FREMAN. Ah! And 'e meddled wi' my 'orses. + +TRUSTAFORD. I'm thinkin' 'twas an old cuckoo bird 'e 'ad on 'is +'ead. Haw, haw! + +GODLEIGH. "His 'eart She 'ath Vorgot!" + +FREMAN. 'E's a fine one to be tachin' our maids convirmation. + +GODLEIGH. Would ye 'ave it the old Rector then? Wi' 'is gouty shoe? +Rackon the maids wid rather 'twas curate; eh, Mr. Burlacombe? + +BURLACOMBE. [Abruptly] Curate's a gude man. + +JARLAND. [With the comatose ferocity of drink] I'll be even wi' un. + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] Tell 'ee one thing--'tes not a proper man o' +God to 'ave about, wi' 'is luse goin's on. Out vrom 'ere he oughter +go. + +BURLACOMBE. You med go further an' fare worse. + +FREMAN. What's 'e duin', then, lettin' 'is wife runoff? + +TRUSTAFORD. [Scratching his head] If an' in case 'e can't kape 'er, +'tes a funny way o' duin' things not to divorce 'er, after that. If +a parson's not to du the Christian thing, whu is, then? + +BURLACOMBE. 'Tes a bit immoral-like to pass over a thing like that. +Tes funny if women's gain's on's to be encouraged. + +FREMAN. Act of a coward, I zay. + +BURLACOMBE. The curate ain't no coward. + +FREMAN. He bides in yure house; 'tes natural for yu to stand up for +un; I'll wager Mrs. Burlacombe don't, though. My missis was fair +shocked. "Will," she says, "if yu ever make vur to let me go like +that, I widden never stay wi' yu," she says. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes settin' a bad example, for zure. + +BURLACOMBE. 'Tes all very airy talkin'; what shude 'e du, then? + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] Go over to Durford and say to that doctor: "Yu +come about my missis, an' zee what I'll du to 'ee." An' take 'er +'ome an' zee she don't misbe'ave again. + +CLYST. 'E can't take 'er ef 'er don' want t' come--I've 'eard +lawyer, that lodged wi' us, say that. + +FREMAN. All right then, 'e ought to 'ave the law of 'er and 'er +doctor; an' zee 'er goin's on don't prosper; 'e'd get damages, tu. +But this way 'tes a nice example he'm settin' folks. Parson indade! +My missis an' the maids they won't goo near the church to-night, an' +I wager no one else won't, neither. + +JARLAND. [Lurching with his pewter up to GODLEIGH] The beggar! I'll +be even wi' un. + +GODLEIGH. [Looking at him in doubt] 'Tes the last, then, Tam. + + [Having received his beer, JARLAND stands, leaning against the + bar, drinking.] + +BURLACOMBE. [Suddenly] I don' goo with what curate's duin--'tes +tiff soft 'earted; he'm a muney kind o' man altogether, wi' 'is flute +an' 'is poetry; but he've a-lodged in my 'ouse this year an' mare, +and always 'ad an 'elpin' 'and for every one. I've got a likin' for +him an' there's an end of it. + +JARLAND. The coward! + +TRUSTAFORD. I don' trouble nothin' about that, Tam Jarland. +[Turning to BURLACOMBE] What gits me is 'e don't seem to 'ave no +zense o' what's his own praperty. + +JARLAND. Take other folk's property fast enough! + + [He saws the air with his empty. The others have all turned to + him, drawn by the fascination that a man in liquor has for his + fellow-men. The bell for church has begun to rang, the sun is + down, and it is getting dusk.] + +He wants one on his crop, an' one in 'is belly; 'e wants a man to +take an' gie un a gude hidin zame as he oughter give 'is fly-be-night +of a wife. + + [STRANGWAY in his dark clothes has entered, and stands by the + door, his lips compressed to a colourless line, his thin, + darkish face grey-white] + +Zame as a man wid ha' gi'en the doctor, for takin' what isn't his'n. + + All but JARLAND have seen STRANGWAY. He steps forward, JARLAND + sees him now; his jaw drops a little, and he is silent. + +STRANGWAY. I came for a little brandy, Mr. Godleigh--feeling rather +faint. Afraid I mightn't get through the service. + +GODLEIGH. [With professional composure] Marteil's Three Star, zurr, +or 'Ennessy's? + +STRANGWAY. [Looking at JARLAND] Thank you; I believe I can do +without, now. [He turns to go.] + + [In the deadly silence, GODLEIGH touches the arm of JARLAND, + who, leaning against the bar with the pewter in his hand, is + staring with his strange lowering eyes straight at STRANGWAY.] + +JARLAND. [Galvanized by the touch into drunken rage] Lave me be +--I'll talk to un-parson or no. I'll tache un to meddle wi' my maid's +bird. I'll tache un to kape 'is thievin' 'ands to 'imself. + + [STRANGWAY turns again.] + +CLYST. Be quiet, Tam. + +JARLAND. [Never loosing STRANGWAY with his eyes--like a bull-dog +who sees red] That's for one chake; zee un turn t'other, the +white-livered buty! Whu lets another man 'ave 'is wife, an' never +the sperit to go vor un! + +BURLACOMBE. Shame, Jarland; quiet, man! + + [They are all looking at STRANGWAY, who, under JARLAND'S drunken + insults is standing rigid, with his eyes closed, and his hands + hard clenched. The church bell has stopped slow ringing, and + begun its five minutes' hurrying note.] + +TRUSTAFORD. [Rising, and trying to hook his arm into JARLAND'S] +Come away, Tam; yu've a-'ad to much, man. + +JARLAND. [Shaking him off] Zee, 'e darsen't touch me; I might 'it +un in the vase an' 'e darsen't; 'e's afraid--like 'e was o' the +doctor. + + [He raises the pewter as though to fling it, but it is seized by + GODLEIGH from behind, and falls clattering to the floor. + STRANGWAY has not moved.] + +JARLAND. [Shaking his fist almost in his face] Luke at un, Luke at +un! A man wi' a slut for a wife---- + + [As he utters the word "wife" STRANGWAY seizes the outstretched + fist, and with a jujitsu movement, draws him into his clutch, + helpless. And as they sway and struggle in the open window, + with the false strength of fury he forces JARLAND through. + There is a crash of broken glass from outside. At the sound + STRANGWAY comes to himself. A look of agony passes over his + face. His eyes light on JIM BERE, who has suddenly risen, and + stands feebly clapping his hands. STRANGWAY rushes out.] + + [Excitedly gathering at the window, they all speak at once.] + +CLYST. Tam's hatchin' of yure cucumbers, Mr. Godleigh. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'E did crash; haw, haw! + +FREMAN. 'Twas a brave throw, zurely. Whu wid a' thought it? + +CLYST. Tam's crawlin' out. [Leaning through window] Hello, Tam-- +'ow's t' base, old man? + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] They'm all comin' up from churchyard to zee. + +TRUSTAFORD. Tam du luke wonderful aztonished; haw, haw! Poor old +Tam! + +CLYST. Can yu zee curate? Reckon 'e'm gone into church. Aw, yes; +gettin' a bit dimsy-service time. [A moment's hush.] + +TRUSTAFORD. Well, I'm jiggered. In 'alf an hour he'm got to prache. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes a Christian village, boys. + + [Feebly, quietly, JIM BERE laughs. There is silence; but the + bell is heard still ranging.] + + + CURTAIN. + + + +SCENE II + + The same-in daylight dying fast. A lamp is burning on the bar. + A chair has been placed in the centre of the room, facing the + bench under the window, on which are seated from right to left, + GODLEIGH, SOL POTTER the village shopman, TRUSTAFORD, + BURLACOMBE, FREMAN, JIM BERE, and MORSE the blacksmith. CLYST + is squatting on a stool by the bar, and at the other end + JARLAND, sobered and lowering, leans against the lintel of the + porch leading to the door, round which are gathered five or six + sturdy fellows, dumb as fishes. No one sits in the chair. In + the unnatural silence that reigns, the distant sound of the + wheezy church organ and voices singing can be heard. + +TAUSTAFORD. [After a prolonged clearing of his throat] What I mean +to zay is that 'tes no yuse, not a bit o' yuse in the world, not +duin' of things properly. If an' in case we'm to carry a resolution +disapprovin' o' curate, it must all be done so as no one can't, zay +nothin'. + +SOL POTTER. That's what I zay, Mr. Trustaford; ef so be as 'tis to +be a village meetin', then it must be all done proper. + +FREMAN. That's right, Sot Potter. I purpose Mr. Sot Potter into the +chair. Whu seconds that? + + [A silence. Voices from among the dumb-as-fishes: "I du."] + +CLYST. [Excitedly] Yu can't putt that to the meetin'. Only a +chairman can putt it to the meetin'. I purpose that Mr. Burlacombe-- +bein as how he's chairman o' the Parish Council--take the chair. + +FREMAN. Ef so be as I can't putt it, yu can't putt that neither. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes not a bit o' yuse; us can't 'ave no meetin' without +a chairman. + +GODLEIGH. Us can't 'ave no chairman without a meetin' to elect un, +that's zure. [A silence.] + +MORSE. [Heavily] To my way o' thinkin', Mr. Godleigh speaks zense; +us must 'ave a meetin' before us can 'ave a chairman. + +CLYST. Then what we got to du's to elect a meetin'. + +BURLACOMBE. [Sourly] Yu'll not find no procedure far that. + + [Voices from among the dumb-as fishes: "Mr. Burlacombe 'e + oughter know."] + +SOL POTTER. [Scratching his head--with heavy solemnity] 'Tes my +belief there's no other way to du, but to elect a chairman to call a +meetin'; an' then for that meetin' to elect a chairman. + +CLYST. I purpose Mr. Burlacombe as chairman to call a meetin'. + +FREMAN. I purpose Sol Potter. + +GODLEIGH. Can't 'ave tu propositions together before a meetin'; +that's apple-pie zure vur zurtain. + + [Voice from among the dumb-as fishes: "There ain't no meetin' + yet, Sol Potter zays."] + +TRUSTAFORD. Us must get the rights of it zettled some'ow. 'Tes like +the darned old chicken an' the egg--meetin' or chairman--which come +virst? + +SOL POTTER. [Conciliating] To my thinkin' there shid be another way +o' duin' it, to get round it like with a circumbendibus. 'T'all +comes from takin' different vuse, in a manner o' spakin'. + +FREMAN. Vu goo an' zet in that chair. + +SOL POTTER. [With a glance at BURLACOMBE modestly] I shid'n never +like fur to du that, with Mr. Burlacombe zettin' there. + +BURLACOMBE. [Rising] 'Tes all darned fulishness. + + [Amidst an uneasy shufflement of feet he moves to the door, and + goes out into the darkness.] + +CLYST. [Seeing his candidate thus depart] Rackon curate's pretty +well thru by now, I'm goin' to zee. [As he passes JARLAND] 'Ow's to +base, old man? + + [He goes out. One of the dumb-as-fishes moves from the door and + fills the apace left on the bench by BURLACOMBE'S departure.] + +JARLAND. Darn all this puzzivantin'! [To SOL POTTER] Got an' zet +in that chair. + +SOL POTTER. [Rising and going to the chair; there he stands, +changing from one to the other of his short broad feet and sweating +from modesty and worth] 'Tes my duty now, gentlemen, to call a +meetin' of the parishioners of this parish. I beg therefore to +declare that this is a meetin' in accordance with my duty as chairman +of this meetin' which elected me chairman to call this meetin'. And +I purceed to vacate the chair so that this meetin' may now purceed to +elect a chairman. + + [He gets up from the chair, and wiping the sweat from his brow, + goes back to his seat.] + +FREMAN. Mr. Chairman, I rise on a point of order. + +GODLEIGH. There ain't no chairman. + +FREMAN. I don't give a darn for that. I rise on a point of order. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes a chairman that decides points of order. 'Tes +certain yu can't rise on no points whatever till there's a chairman. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes no yuse yure risin', not the least bit in the +world, till there's some one to set yu down again. Haw, haw! + + [Voice from the dumb-as-Etches: "Mr. Trustaford 'e's right."] + +FREMAN. What I zay is the chairman ought never to 'ave vacated the +chair till I'd risen on my point of order. I purpose that he goo and +zet down again. + +GODLEIGH. Yu can't purpose that to this meetin'; yu can only purpose +that to the old meetin' that's not zettin' any longer. + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] I didn' care what old meetin' 'tis that's +zettin'. I purpose that Sol Potter goo an' zet in that chair again, +while I rise on my point of order. + +TRUSTAFORD. [Scratching his head] 'Tesn't regular but I guess yu've +got to goo, Sol, or us shan't 'ave no peace. + + [SOL POTTER, still wiping his brow, goes back to the chair.] + +MORSE. [Stolidly-to FREMAN] Zet down, Will Freman. [He pulls at +him with a blacksmith's arm.] + +FREMAN. [Remaining erect with an effort] I'm not a-goin' to zet +down till I've arisen. + +JARLAND. Now then, there 'e is in the chair. What's yore point of +order? + +FREMAN. [Darting his eyes here and there, and flinging his hand up +to his gipsy-like head] 'Twas--'twas--Darned ef y' 'aven't putt it +clean out o' my 'ead. + +JARLAND. We can't wait for yore points of order. Come out o' that +chair. Sol Potter. + + [SOL POTTER rises and is about to vacate the chair.] + +FREMAN. I know! There ought to 'a been minutes taken. Yu can't +'ave no meetin' without minutes. When us comes to electin' a +chairman o' the next meetin', 'e won't 'ave no minutes to read. + +SOL POTTER. 'Twas only to putt down that I was elected chairman to +elect a meetin' to elect a chairman to preside over a meetin' to pass +a resolution dalin' wi' the curate. That's aisy set down, that is. + +FREMAN. [Mollified] We'll 'ave that zet down, then, while we're +electin' the chairman o' the next meetin'. + + [A silence. ] + +TRUSTAFORD. Well then, seein' this is the praaper old meetin' for +carryin' the resolution about the curate, I purpose Mr. Sol Potter +take the chair. + +FREMAN. I purpose Mr. Trustaford. I 'aven't a-got nothin' against +Sol Potter, but seein' that he elected the meetin' that's to elect +'im, it might be said that 'e was electin' of himzelf in a manner of +spakin'. Us don't want that said. + +MORSE. [Amid meditative grunts from the dumb-as-fishes] There's +some-at in that. One o' they tu purposals must be putt to the +meetin'. + +FREMAN. Second must be putt virst, fur zure. + +TRUSTAFORD. I dunno as I wants to zet in that chair. To hiss the +curate, 'tis a ticklish sort of a job after that. Vurst comes afore +second, Will Freeman. + +FREMAN. Second is amendment to virst. 'Tes the amendments is putt +virst. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Ow's that, Mr. Godleigh? I'm not particular eggzac'ly +to a dilly zort of a point like that. + +SOL POTTER. [Scratching his, head] 'Tes a very nice point, for +zure. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes undoubtedly for the chairman to decide. + + [Voice from the dumb-as fishes: "But there ain't no chairman + yet."] + +JARLAND. Sol Potter's chairman. + +FREMAN. No, 'e ain't. + +MORSE. Yes, 'e is--'e's chairman till this second old meetin' gets +on the go. + +FREMAN. I deny that. What du yu say, Mr. Trustaford? + +TRUSTAFORD. I can't 'ardly tell. It du zeem a darned long-sufferin' +sort of a business altogether. + + [A silence.] + +MORSE. [Slowly] Tell 'ee what 'tis, us shan't du no gude like this. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes for Mr. Freman or Mr. Trustaford, one or t'other to +withdraw their motions. + +TRUSTAFORD. [After a pause, with cautious generosity] I've no +objections to withdrawin' mine, if Will Freman'll withdraw his'n. + +FREMAN. I won't never be be'indhand. If Mr. Trustaford withdraws, I +withdraws mine. + +MORSE. [With relief] That's zensible. Putt the motion to the +meetin'. + +SOL POTTER. There ain't no motion left to putt. + + [Silence of consternation.] + + [In the confusion Jim BERE is seen to stand up.] + +GODLEIGH. Jim Bere to spike. Silence for Jim! + +VOICES. Aye! Silence for Jim! + +SOL POTTER. Well, Jim? + +JIM. [Smiling and slow] Nothin' duin'. + +TRUSTAFORD. Bravo, Jim! Yu'm right. Best zense yet! + + [Applause from the dumb-as-fishes.] + + [With his smile brightening, JIM resumes his seat.] + +SOL POTTER. [Wiping his brow] Du seem to me, gentlemen, seem' as +we'm got into a bit of a tangle in a manner of spakin', 'twid be the +most zimplest and vairest way to begin all over vrom the beginnin', +so's t'ave it all vair an' square for every one. + + [In the uproar Of "Aye" and "No," it is noticed that TIBBY + JARLAND is standing in front of her father with her finger, for + want of something better, in her mouth.] + +TIBBY. [In her stolid voice] Please, sister Mercy says, curate 'ave +got to "Lastly." [JARLAND picks her up, and there is silence.] An' +please to come quick. + +JARLAND. Come on, mates; quietly now! + + [He goes out, and all begin to follow him.] + +MORSE. [Slowest, save for SOL POTTER] 'Tes rare lucky us was all +agreed to hiss the curate afore us began the botherin' old meetin', +or us widn' 'ardly 'ave 'ad time to settle what to du. + +SOL POTTER. [Scratching his head] Aye, 'tes rare lucky; but I dunno +if 'tes altogether reg'lar. + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +SCENE III + + The village green before the churchyard and the yew-trees at the + gate. Into the pitch dark under the yews, light comes out + through the half-open church door. Figures are lurking, or + moving stealthily--people waiting and listening to the sound of + a voice speaking in the church words that are inaudible. + Excited whispering and faint giggles come from the deepest + yew-tree shade, made ghostly by the white faces and the frocks of + young girls continually flitting up and back in the blackness. A + girl's figure comes flying out from the porch, down the path of + light, and joins the stealthy group. + +WHISPERING VOICE of MERCY. Where's 'e got to now, Gladys? + +WHISPERING VOICE OF GLADYS. 'E've just finished. + +VOICE OF CONNIE. Whu pushed t'door open? + +VOICE OF GLADYS. Tim Clyst I giv' it a little push, meself. + +VOICE OF CONNIE. Oh! + +VOICE of GLADYS. Tim Clyst's gone in! + +ANOTHER VOICE. O-o-o-h! + +VOICE of MERCY. Whu else is there, tu? + +VOICE OF GLADYS. Ivy's there, an' Old Mrs. Potter, an' tu o' the +maids from th'Hall; that's all as ever. + +VOICE of CONNIE. Not the old grey mare? + +VOICE of GLADYS. No. She ain't ther'. 'Twill just be th'ymn now, +an' the Blessin'. Tibby gone for 'em? + +VOICE OF MERCY. Yes. + +VOICE of CONNIE. Mr. Burlacombe's gone in home, I saw 'im pass by +just now--'e don' like it. Father don't like it neither. + +VOICE of MERCY. Mr. Strangway shoudn' 'ave taken my skylark, an' +thrown father out o' winder. 'Tis goin' to be awful fun! Oh! + + [She jumps up and dawn in the darkness. And a voice from far in + the shadow says: "Hsssh! Quiet, yu maids!" The voice has + ceased speaking in the church. There is a moment's dead + silence. The voice speaks again; then from the wheezy little + organ come the first faint chords of a hymn.] + +GLADYS. "Nearer, my God, to Thee!" + +VOICE of MERCY. 'Twill be funny, with no one 'ardly singin'. + + [The sound of the old hymn sung by just six voices comes out to + them rather sweet and clear.] + +GLADYS. [Softly] 'Tis pretty, tu. Why! They're only singin' one +verse! + + [A moment's silence, and the voice speaks, uplifted, pronouncing + the Blessing: "The peace of God----" As the last words die away, + dark figures from the inn approach over the grass, till quite a + crowd seems standing there without a word spoken. Then from out + of the church porch come the congregation. TIM CLYST first, + hastily lost among the waiting figures in the dark; old Mrs. + Potter, a half blind old lady groping her way and perceiving + nothing out of the ordinary; the two maids from the Hall, + self-conscious and scared, scuttling along. Last, IVY BURLACOMBE + quickly, and starting back at the dim, half-hidden crowd.] + +VOICE of GLADYS. [Whispering] Ivy! Here, quick! + + [Ivy sways, darts off towards the voice, and is lost in the + shadow.] + +VOICE OF FREMAN. [Low] Wait, boys, till I give signal. + + [Two or three squirks and giggles; Tim CLYST'S voice: "Ya-as! + Don't 'ee tread on my toe!" A soft, frightened "O-o-h!" from a + girl. Some quick, excited whisperings: "Luke!" "Zee there!" + "He's comin'!" And then a perfectly dead silence. The figure + of STRANGWAY is seen in his dark clothes, passing from the + vestry to the church porch. He stands plainly visible in the + lighted porch, locking the door, then steps forward. Just as he + reaches the edge of the porch, a low hiss breaks the silence. + It swells very gradually into a long, hissing groan. STRANGWAY + stands motionless, his hand over his eyes, staring into the + darkness. A girl's figure can be seen to break out of the + darkness and rush away. When at last the groaning has died into + sheer expectancy, STRANGWAY drops his hand.] + +STRANGWAY. [In a loco voice] Yes! I'm glad. Is Jarland there? + +FREMAN. He's 'ere-no thanks to yu! Hsss! + + [The hiss breaks out again, then dies away.] + +JARLAND'S VOICE. [Threatening] Try if yu can du it again. + +STRANGWAY. No, Jarland, no! I ask you to forgive me. Humbly! + + [A hesitating silence, broken by muttering.] + +CLYST'S VOICE. Bravo! + +A VOICE. That's vair. + +A VOICE. 'E's afraid o' the sack--that's what 'tis. + +A VOICE. [Groaning] 'E's a praaper coward. + +A VOICE. Whu funked the doctor? + +CLYST'S VOICE. Shame on 'ee, therr! + +STRANGWAY. You're right--all of you! I'm not fit! An uneasy and +excited mustering and whispering dies away into renewed silence. + +STRANGWAY. What I did to Tam Jarland is not the real cause of what +you're doing, is it? I understand. But don't be troubled. It's all +over. I'm going--you'll get some one better. Forgive me, Jarland. +I can't see your face--it's very dark. + +FREMAN'S Voice. [Mocking] Wait for the full mune. + +GODLEIGH. [Very low] "My 'eart 'E lighted not!" + +STRANGWAY. [starting at the sound of his own words thus mysteriously +given him out of the darkness] Whoever found that, please tear it +up! [After a moment's silence] Many of you have been very kind to +me. You won't see me again--Good-bye, all! + + [He stands for a second motionless, then moves resolutely down + into the darkness so peopled with shadows.] + +UNCERTAIN VOICES AS HE PASSES. Good-bye, zurr! +Good luck, zurr! [He has gone.] + +CLYST'S VOICE. Three cheers for Mr. Strangway! + + [And a queer, strangled cheer, with groans still threading it, + arises.] + + + CURTAIN. + + + + + +ACT III + + +SCENE I + + In the BURLACOMBES' hall-sitting-room the curtains are drawn, a + lamp burns, and the door stands open. BURLACOMBE and his wife + are hovering there, listening to the sound of mingled cheers and + groaning. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! my gudeness--what a thing t'appen! I'd saner +'a lost all me ducks. [She makes towards the inner door] I can't +never face 'im. + +BURLACOMBE. 'E can't expect nothin' else, if 'e act like that. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes only duin' as 'e'd be done by. + +BURLACOMBE. Aw! Yu can't go on forgivin' 'ere, an' forgivin' there. +'Tesn't nat'ral. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes the mischief 'e'm a parson. 'Tes 'im bein' a +lamb o' God--or 'twidden be so quare for 'im to be forgivin'. + +BURLACOMBE. Yu goo an' make un a gude 'ot drink. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Poor soul! What'll 'e du now, I wonder? [Under +her breath] 'E's cumin'! + + [She goes hurriedly. BURLACOMBE, with a startled look back, + wavers and makes to follow her, but stops undecided in the inner + doorway. STRANGWAY comes in from the darkness. He turns to the + window and drops overcoat and hat and the church key on the + windowseat, looking about him as men do when too hard driven, + and never fixing his eyes long enough on anything to see it. + BURLACOMBE, closing the door into the house, advances a step. + At the sound STRANGWAY faces round.] + +BURLACOMBE. I wanted for yu to know, zurr, that me an' mine 'adn't +nothin' to du wi' that darned fulishness, just now. + +STRANGWAY. [With a ghost of a smile] Thank you, Burlacombe. It +doesn't matter. It doesn't matter a bit. + +BURLACOMBE. I 'ope yu won't take no notice of it. Like a lot o' +silly bees they get. [After an uneasy pause] Yu'll excuse me +spakin' of this mornin', an' what 'appened. 'Tes a brave pity it +cam' on yu so sudden-like before yu 'ad time to think. 'Tes a sort +o' thing a man shude zet an' chew upon. Certainly 'tes not a bit o' +yuse goin' against human nature. Ef yu don't stand up for yureself +there's no one else not goin' to. 'Tes yure not 'avin' done that 'as +made 'em so rampageous. [Stealing another look at STRANGWAY] Yu'll +excuse me, zurr, spakin' of it, but 'tes amazin' sad to zee a man let +go his own, without a word o' darin'. 'Tea as ef 'e 'ad no passions +like. + +STRANGWAY. Look at me, Burlacombe. + + [BURLACOMBE looks up, trying hard to keep his eyes on + STRANGWAY'S, that seem to burn in his thin face.] + +STRANGWAY. Do I look like that? Please, please! [He touches his +breast] I've too much here. Please! + +BURLACOMBE. [With a sort of startled respect] Well, zurr, 'tes not +for me to zay nothin', certainly. + + [He turns and after a slow look back at STRANGWAY goes out.] + +STRANGWAY. [To himself] Passions! No passions! Ha! + + [The outer door is opened and IVY BURLACOMBE appears, and, + seeing him, stops. Then, coming softly towards him, she speaks + timidly.] + +IVY. Oh! Mr. Strangway, Mrs. Bradmere's cumin' from the Rectory. I +ran an' told 'em. Oh! 'twas awful. + + [STRANGWAY starts, stares at her, and turning on his heel, goes + into the house. Ivy's face is all puckered, as if she were on + the point of tears. There is a gentle scratching at the door, + which has not been quite closed.] + +VOICE OF GLADYS. [Whispering] Ivy! Come on Ivy. I won't. + +VOICE OF MERCY. Yu must. Us can't du without Yu. + +Ivy. [Going to the door] I don't want to. + +VOICE of GLADYS. "Naughty maid, she won't come out," Ah! du 'ee! + +VOICE OF CREMER. Tim Clyst an' Bobbie's cumin'; us'll only be six +anyway. Us can't dance "figure of eight" without yu. + +Ivy. [Stamping her foot] I don't want to dance at all! I don't. + +MERCY. Aw! She's temper. Yu can bang on tambourine, then! + +GLADYS. [Running in] Quick, Ivy! Here's the old grey mare cumin' +down the green. Quick. + + [With whispering and scuffling; gurgling and squeaking, the + reluctant Ivy's hand is caught and she is jerked away. In their + haste they have left the door open behind them.] + +VOICE of MRS. BRADMERE. [Outside] Who's that? + + [She knocks loudly, and rings a bell; then, without waiting, + comes in through the open door.] + + [Noting the overcoat and hat on the window-sill she moves across + to ring the bell. But as she does so, MRS. BURLACOMBE, followed + by BURLACOMBE, comes in from the house.] + +MRS. BRADMERE This disgraceful business! Where's Mr. Strangway? I +see he's in. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Yes, m'm, he'm in--but--but Burlacombe du zay he'm +terrible upset. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I should think so. I must see him--at once. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. I doubt bed's the best place for 'un, an' gude 'ot +drink. Burlacombe zays he'm like a man standin' on the edge of a +cliff; and the lasts tipsy o' wind might throw un over. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [To BURLACOMBE] You've seen him, then? + +BURLACOMBE. Yeas; an' I don't like the luke of un--not a little bit, +I don't. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Almost to herself] Poor soul; 'e've a-'ad to +much to try un this yer long time past. I've a-seen 'tis sperrit +cumin' thru 'is body, as yu might zay. He's torn to bits, that's +what 'tis. + +BURLACOMBE. 'Twas a praaper cowardly thing to hiss a man when he's +down. But 'twas natural tu, in a manner of spakin'. But 'tesn't +that troublin' 'im. 'Tes in here [touching his forehead], along of +his wife, to my thinkin'. They zay 'e've a-known about 'er a-fore +she went away. Think of what 'e've 'ad to kape in all this time. +'Tes enough to drive a man silly after that. I've a-locked my gun +up. I see a man like--like that once before--an' sure enough 'e was +dead in the mornin'! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Nonsense, Burlacombe! [To MRS. BURLACOMBE] Go and +tell him I want to see him--must see him. [MRS. BURLACOMBE goes +into the house] And look here, Burlacombe; if we catch any one, man +or woman, talking of this outside the village, it'll be the end of +their tenancy, whoever they may be. Let them all know that. I'm +glad he threw that drunken fellow out of the window, though it was a +little---- + +BURLACOMBE. Aye! The nuspapers would be praaper glad of that, for a +tiddy bit o' nuse. + +MRS. BRADMERE. My goodness! Yes! The men are all up at the inn. +Go and tell them what I said--it's not to get about. Go at once, +Burlacombe. + +BURLACOMBE. Must be a turrable job for 'im, every one's knowin' +about 'is wife like this. He'm a proud man tu, I think. 'Tes a +funny business altogether! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Horrible! Poor fellow! Now, come! Do your best, +Burlacombe! + + [BURLACOMBE touches his forelock and goes. MRS. BRADMERE stands + quite still, thinking. Then going to the photograph, she stares + up at it.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. You baggage! + + [STRANGWAY has come in noiselessly, and is standing just behind + her. She turns, and sees him. There is something so still, so + startlingly still in his figure and white face, that she cannot + for the moment fond her voice.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [At last] This is most distressing. I'm deeply +sorry. [Then, as he does not answer, she goes a step closer] I'm an +old woman; and old women must take liberties, you know, or they +couldn't get on at all. Come now! Let's try and talk it over calmly +and see if we can't put things right. + +STRANGWAY. You were very good to come; but I would rather not. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I know you're in as grievous trouble as a man can be. + +STRANGWAY. Yes. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [With a little sound of sympathy] What are you-- +thirty-five? I'm sixty-eight if I'm a day--old enough to be your +mother. I can feel what you must have been through all these months, +I can indeed. But you know you've gone the wrong way to work. We +aren't angels down here below! And a son of the Church can't act as +if for himself alone. The eyes of every one are on him. + +STRANGWAY. [Taking the church key from the window.] Take this, +please. + +MRS. BRADMERE. No, no, no! Jarland deserved all he got. You had +great provocation. + +STRANGWAY. It's not Jarland. [Holding out the key] Please take it +to the Rector. I beg his forgiveness. [Touching his breast] +There's too much I can't speak of--can't make plain. Take it to him, +please. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Mr. Strangway--I don't accept this. I am sure my +husband--the Church--will never accept---- + +STRANGWAY. Take it! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Almost unconsciously taking it] Mind! We don't +accept it. You must come and talk to the Rector to-morrow. You're +overwrought. You'll see it all in another light, then. + +STRANGWAY. [With a strange smile] Perhaps. [Lifting the blind] +Beautiful night! Couldn't be more beautiful! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Startled-softly] Don't turn sway from these who +want to help you! I'm a grumpy old woman, but I can feel for you. +Don't try and keep it all back, like this! A woman would cry, and it +would all seem clearer at once. Now won't you let me----? + +STRANGWAY. No one can help, thank you. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Come! Things haven't gone beyond mending, really, if +you'll face them. [Pointing to the photograph] You know what I +mean. We dare not foster immorality. + +STRANGWAY. [Quivering as at a jabbed nerve] Don't speak of that! + +MRS. BRADMERE. But think what you've done, Mr. Strangway! If you +can't take your wife back, surely you must divorce her. You can +never help her to go on like this in secret sin. + +STRANGWAY. Torture her--one way or the other? + +MRS. BRADMERE. No, no; I want you to do as the Church--as all +Christian society would wish. Come! You can't let this go on. My +dear man, do your duty at all costs! + +STRANGWAY. Break her heart? + +MRS. BRADMERE. Then you love that woman--more than God! + +STRANGWAY. [His face quivering] Love! + +MRS. BRADMERE. They told me----Yes, and I can see you're is a bad +way. Come, pull yourself together! You can't defend what you're +doing. + +STRANGWAY. I do not try. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I must get you to see! My father was a clergyman; +I'm married to one; I've two sons in the Church. I know what I'm +talking about. It's a priest's business to guide the people's lives. + +STRANGWAY. [Very low] But not mine! No more! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Looking at him shrewdly] There's something very +queer about you to-night. You ought to see doctor. + +STRANGWAY. [A smile awning and going on his lips] If I am not better +soon---- + +MRS. BRADMERE. I know it must be terrible to feel that everybody---- + + [A convulsive shiver passes over STRANGWAY, and he shrinks + against the door] + +But come! Live it down! + + [With anger growing at his silence] + +Live it down, man! You can't desert your post--and let these +villagers do what they like with us? Do you realize that you're +letting a woman, who has treated you abominably;--yes, abominably +--go scot-free, to live comfortably with another man? What an +example! + +STRANGWAY. Will you, please, not speak of that! + +MRS. BRADMERE. I must! This great Church of ours is based on the +rightful condemnation of wrongdoing. There are times when +forgiveness is a sin, Michael Strangway. You must keep the whip +hand. You must fight! + +STRANGWAY. Fight! [Touching his heart] My fight is here. Have you +ever been in hell? For months and months--burned and longed; hoped +against hope; killed a man in thought day by day? Never rested, for +love and hate? I--condemn! I--judge! No! It's rest I have to +find--somewhere--somehow-rest! And how--how can I find rest? + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Who has listened to his outburst in a soft of coma] +You are a strange man! One of these days you'll go off your head if +you don't take care. + +STRANGWAY. [Smiling] One of these days the flowers will grow out of +me; and I shall sleep. + + [MRS. BRADMERE stares at his smiling face a long moment in + silence, then with a little sound, half sniff, half snort, she + goes to the door. There she halts.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. And you mean to let all this go on----Your wife---- + +STRANGWAY. Go! Please go! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Men like you have been buried at cross-roads before +now! Take care! God punishes! + +STRANGWAY. Is there a God? + +MRS. BRADMERE. Ah! [With finality] You must see a doctor. + + [Seeing that the look on his face does not change, she opens the + door, and hurries away into the moonlight.] + + [STRANGWAY crosses the room to where his wife's picture hangs, + and stands before it, his hands grasping the frame. Then he + takes it from the wall, and lays it face upwards on the window + seat.] + +STRANGWAY. [To himself] Gone! What is there, now? + + [The sound of an owl's hooting is floating in, and of voices + from the green outside the inn.] + +STRANGWAY. [To himself] Gone! Taken faith--hope--life! + + [JIM BERE comes wandering into the open doorway.] + +JIM BERE. Gude avenin', zurr. + + [At his slow gait, with his feeble smile, he comes in, and + standing by the window-seat beside the long dark coat that still + lies there, he looks down at STRANGWAY with his lost eyes.] + +JIM. Yu threw un out of winder. I cud 'ave, once, I cud. + + [STRANGWAY neither moves nor speaks; and JIM BERE goes on with + his unimaginably slow speech] + +They'm laughin' at yu, zurr. An' so I come to tell 'ee how to du. +'Twas full mune--when I caught 'em, him an' my girl. I caught 'em. +[With a strange and awful flash of fire] I did; an' I tuk un [He +taken up STRANGWAY'S coat and grips it with his trembling hands, as a +man grips another's neck] like that--I tuk un. As the coat falls, +like a body out of which the breath has been squeezed, STRANGWAY, +rising, catches it. + +STRANGWAY. [Gripping the coat] And he fell! + + [He lets the coat fall on the floor, and puts his foot on it. + Then, staggering back, he leans against the window.] + +JIM. Yu see, I loved 'er--I did. [The lost look comes back to his +eyes] Then somethin'--I dunno--and--and----[He lifts his hand and +passes it up and down his side] Twas like this for ever. + + [They gaze at each other in silence.] + +JIM. [At last] I come to tell yu. They'm all laughin' at yu. But +yu'm strong--yu go over to Durford to that doctor man, an' take un +like I did. [He tries again to make the sign of squeezing a man's +neck] They can't laugh at yu no more, then. Tha's what I come to +tell yu. Tha's the way for a Christian man to du. Gude naight, +zurr. I come to tell yee. + + [STRANGWAY motions to him in silence. And, very slowly, JIM + BERE passes out.] + + [The voices of men coming down the green are heard.] + +VOICES. Gude night, Tam. Glide naight, old Jim! + +VOICES. Gude might, Mr. Trustaford. 'Tes a wonderful fine mune. + +VOICE OF TRUSTAFORD. Ah! 'Tes a brave mune for th' poor old curate! + +VOICE. "My 'eart 'E lighted not!" + + [TRUSTAFORD'S laugh, and the rattling, fainter and fainter, of + wheels. A spasm seizes on STRANGWAY'S face, as he stands there + by the open door, his hand grips his throat; he looks from side + to side, as if seeking a way of escape.] + + + CURTAIN. + + + +SCENE II + + The BURLACOMBES' high and nearly empty barn. A lantern is hung + by a rope that lifts the bales of straw, to a long ladder + leaning against a rafter. This gives all the light there is, + save for a slender track of moonlight, slanting in from the end, + where the two great doors are not quite closed. On a rude bench + in front of a few remaining, stacked, square-cut bundles of last + year's hay, sits TIBBY JARLAND, a bit of apple in her mouth, + sleepily beating on a tambourine. With stockinged feet GLADYS, + IVY, CONNIE, and MERCY, TIM CLYST, and BOBBIE JARLAND, a boy of + fifteen, are dancing a truncated "Figure of Eight"; and their + shadow are dancing alongside on the walls. Shoes and some + apples have been thrown down close to the side door through + which they have come in. Now and then IVY, the smallest and + best of the dancers, ejaculates words of direction, and one of + the youths grunts or breathes loudly out of the confusion of his + mind. Save for this and the dumb beat and jingle of the sleepy + tambourine, there is no sound. The dance comes to its end, but + the drowsy TIBBY goes on beating. + +MERCY. That'll du, Tibby; we're finished. Ate yore apple. [The +stolid TIBBY eats her apple.] + +CLYST. [In his teasing, excitable voice] Yu maids don't dance +'elf's well as us du. Bobbie 'e's a great dancer. 'E dance vine. +I'm a gude dancer, meself. + +GLADYS. A'n't yu conceited just? + +CLYST. Aw! Ah! Yu'll give me kiss for that. [He chases, but cannot +catch that slippery white figure] Can't she glimmer! + +MERCY. Gladys! Up ladder! + +CLYST. Yu go up ladder; I'll catch 'ee then. Naw, yu maids, don't +yu give her succour. That's not vair [Catching hold of MERCY, who +gives a little squeal.] + +CONNIE. Mercy, don't! Mrs. Burlacombe'll hear. Ivy, go an' peek. + + [Ivy goes to flee side door and peers through.] + +CLYST. [Abandoning the chase and picking up an apple--they all have +the joyous irresponsibility that attends forbidden doings] Ya-as, +this is a gude apple. Luke at Tibby! + + [TIBBY, overcome by drowsiness, has fallen back into the hay, + asleep. GLADYS, leaning against the hay breaks into humming:] + + "There cam' three dukes a-ridin', a-ridin', a-ridin', + There cam' three dukes a ridin' + With a ransy-tansy tay!" + +CLYST. Us 'as got on vine; us'll get prize for our dancin'. + +CONNIE. There won't be no prize if Mr. Strangway goes away. 'Tes +funny 'twas Mrs. Strangway start us. + +IVY. [From the door] 'Twas wicked to hiss him. + + [A moment's hush.] + +CLYST. Twasn't I. + +BOBBIE. I never did. + +GLADYS. Oh! Bobbie, yu did! Yu blew in my ear. + +CLYST. 'Twas the praaper old wind in the trees. Did make a brave +noise, zurely. + +MERCY. 'E shuld'n' 'a let my skylark go. + +CLYST. [Out of sheer contradictoriness] Ya-as, 'e shude, then. +What du yu want with th' birds of the air? They'm no gude to yu. + +IVY. [Mournfully] And now he's goin' away. + +CLYST. Ya-as; 'tes a pity. He's the best man I ever seen since I +was comin' from my mother. He's a gude man. He'em got a zad face, +sure enough, though. + +IVY. Gude folk always 'ave zad faces. + +CLYST. I knu a gude man--'e sold pigs--very gude man: 'e 'ad a +budiful bright vase like the mane. [Touching his stomach] I was sad, +meself, once. 'Twas a funny scrabblin'--like feelin'. + +GLADYS. If 'e go away, whu's goin' to finish us for confirmation? + +CONNIE. The Rector and the old grey mare. + +MERCY. I don' want no more finishin'; I'm confirmed enough. + +CLYST. Ya-as; yu'm a buty. + +GLADYS. Suppose we all went an' asked 'im not to go? + +IVY. 'Twouldn't be no gude. + +CONNIE. Where's 'e goin'? + +MERCY. He'll go to London, of course. + +IVY. He's so gentle; I think 'e'll go to an island, where there's +nothin' but birds and beasts and flowers. + +CLYST. Aye! He'm awful fond o' the dumb things. + +IVY. They're kind and peaceful; that's why. + +CLYST. Aw! Yu see tu praaper old tom cats; they'm not to peaceful, +after that, nor kind naighther. + +BOBBIE. [Surprisingly] If 'e's sad, per'aps 'e'll go to 'Eaven. + +IVY. Oh! not yet, Bobbie. He's tu young. + +CLYST. [Following his own thoughts] Ya-as. 'Tes a funny place, tu, +nowadays, judgin' from the papers. + +GLADYS. Wonder if there's dancin' in 'Eaven? + +IVY. There's beasts, and flowers, and waters, and 'e told us. + +CLYST. Naw! There's no dumb things in 'Eaven. Jim Bere 'e says +there is! 'E thinks 'is old cat's there. + +IVY. Yes. [Dreamily] There's stars, an' owls, an' a man playin' on +the flute. Where 'tes gude, there must be music. + +CLYST. Old brass band, shuldn' wonder, like th' Salvation Army. + +IVY. [Putting up her hands to an imaginary pipe] No; 'tis a boy +that goes so; an' all the dumb things an' all the people goo after +'im--like this. + + [She marches slowly, playing her imaginary pipe, and one by one + they all fall in behind her, padding round the barn in their + stockinged feet. Passing the big doors, IVY throws them open.] + +An' 'tes all like that in 'Eaven. + + [She stands there gazing out, still playing on her imaginary + pipe. And they all stand a moment silent, staring into the + moonlight.] + +CLYST. 'Tes a glory-be full mune to-night! + +IVY. A goldie-cup--a big one. An' millions o' little goldie-cups on +the floor of 'Eaven. + +MERCY. Oh! Bother 'Eaven! Let's dance "Clapperclaws"! Wake up, +Tibby! + +GLADYS. Clapperelaws, clapperclaws! Come on, Bobbie--make circle! + +CLYST. Clapperclaws! I dance that one fine. + +IVY. [Taking the tambourine] See, Tibby; like this. She hums and +beats gently, then restores the tambourine to the sleepy TIBBY, who, +waking, has placed a piece of apple in her mouth. + +CONNIE. 'Tes awful difficult, this one. + +IVY. [Illustrating] No; yu just jump, an' clap yore 'ands. Lovely, +lovely! + +CLYST. Like ringin' bells! Come ahn! + + [TIBBY begins her drowsy beating, IVY hums the tune; they dance, + and their shadows dance again upon the walls. When she has + beaten but a few moments on the tambourine, TIBBY is overcome + once more by sleep and falls back again into her nest of hay, + with her little shoed feet just visible over the edge of the + bench. Ivy catches up the tambourine, and to her beating and + humming the dancers dance on.] + + [Suddenly GLADYS stops like a wild animal surprised, and cranes + her neck towards the aide door.] + +CONNIE. [Whispering] What is it? + +GLADYS. [Whispering] I hear--some one comin' across the yard. + + [She leads a noiseless scamper towards the shoes. BOBBIE + JARLAND shins up the ladder and seizes the lantern. Ivy drops + the tambourine. They all fly to the big doors, and vanish into + the moonlight, pulling the door nearly to again after them.] + + [There is the sound of scrabbling at the hitch of the side door, + and STRANGWAY comes into the nearly dark barn. Out in the night + the owl is still hooting. He closes the door, and that sound is + lost. Like a man walking in his sleep, he goes up to the + ladder, takes the rope in his hand, and makes a noose. He can + be heard breathing, and in the darkness the motions of his hands + are dimly seen, freeing his throat and putting the noose round + his neck. He stands swaying to and fro at the foot of the + ladder; then, with a sigh, sets his foot on it to mount. One of + the big doors creaks and opens in the wind, letting in a broad + path of moonlight.] + + [STRANGWAY stops; freeing his neck from the noose, he walks + quickly up the track of moonlight, whitened from head to foot, + to close the doors.] + + [The sound of his boots on the bare floor has awakened TIBBY + JARLAND. Struggling out of her hay nest she stands staring at + his whitened figure, and bursts suddenly into a wail.] + +TIBBY. O-oh! Mercy! Where are yu? I'm frightened! I'm +frightened! O-oooo! + +STRANGWAY. [Turning--startled] Who's that? Who is it? + +TIBBY. O-oh! A ghosty! Oo-ooo! + +STRANGWAY. [Going to her quickly] It's me, Tibby--Tib only me! + +TIBBY. I seed a ghosty. + +STRANGWAY. [Taking her up] No, no, my bird, you didn't! It was +me. + +TIBBY. [Burying her face against him] I'm frighted. It was a big +one. [She gives tongue again] O-o-oh! + +STRANGWAY. There, there! It's nothing but me. Look! + +TIBBY. No. [She peeps out all the same.] + +STRANGWAY. See! It's the moonlight made me all white. See! You're +a brave girl now? + +TIBBY. [Cautiously] I want my apple. + + [She points towards her nest. STRANGWAY carries her there, + picks up an apple, and gives it her. TIBBY takes a bite.] + +TIBBY. I want any tambourine. + +STRANGWAY. [Giving her the tambourine, and carrying her back into +the' track of moonlight] Now we're both ghosties! Isn't it funny? + +TABBY. [Doubtfully] Yes. + +STRANGWAY. See! The moon's laughing at us! See? Laugh then! + + [TABBY, tambourine in one hand and apple in the other, smiles + stolidly. He sets her down on the ladder, and stands, holding + her level With him.] + +TABBY. [Solemnly] I'se still frightened. + +STRANGWAY. No! Full moon, Tibby! Shall we wish for it? + +TABBY. Full mune. + +STRANGWAY. Moon! We're wishing for you. Moon, moon! + +TIBBY. Mune, we're wishin' for yu! + +STRANGWAY. What do, you wish it to be? + +TIBBY. Bright new shillin'! + +STRANGWAY. A face. + +TIBBY. Shillin', a shillin'! + +STRANGWAY. [Taking out a shilling and spinning it so that it falls +into her pinafore] See! Your wish comes true. + +TIBBY. Oh! [Putting the shilling in her mouth] Mune's still there! + +STRANGWAY. Wish for me, Tibby! + +TIBBY. Mune. I'm wishin' for yu! + +STRANGWAY. Not yet! + +TIBBY. Shall I shake my tambouline? + +STRANGWAY. Yes, shake your tambouline. + +TIBBY. [Shaking her tambourine] Mune, I'm shaken' at yu. + + [STRANGWAY lays his hand suddenly on the rope, and swings it up + on to the beam.] + +TIBBY. What d'yu du that for? + +STRANGWAY. To put it out of reach. It's better---- + +TIBBY. Why is it better? [She stares up at him.] + +STRANGWAY. Come along, Tibby! [He carries her to the big doors, and +sets her down] See! All asleep! The birds, and the fields, and the +moon! + +TIBBY. Mune, mune, we're wishing for yu! + +STRANGWAY. Send her your love, and say good-night. + +TIBBY. [Blowing a kiss] Good-night, mune! + + [From the barn roof a little white dove's feather comes floating + down in the wind. TIBBY follows it with her hand, catches it, + and holds it up to him.] + +TIBBY. [Chuckling] Luke. The mune's sent a bit o' love! + +STRANGWAY. [Taking the feather] Thank you, Tibby! I want that bit +o' love. [Very faint, comes the sound of music] Listen! + +TIBBY. It's Miss Willis, playin' on the pianny! + +STRANGWAY. No; it's Love; walking and talking in the world. + +TIBBY. [Dubiously] Is it? + +STRANGWAY. [Pointing] See! Everything coming out to listen! See +them, Tibby! All the little things with pointed ears, children, and +birds, and flowers, and bunnies; and the bright rocks, and--men! +Hear their hearts beating! And the wind listening! + +TIBBY. I can't hear--nor I can't see! + +STRANGWAY. Beyond----[To himself] They are--they must be; I swear +they are! [Then, catching sight of TIBBY'S amazed eyes] And now say +good-bye to me. + +TIBBY. Where yu goin'? + +STRANGWAY. I don't know, Tibby. + +VOICE OF MERCY. [Distant and cautious] Tibby! Tibby! Where are +yu? + +STRANGWAY. Mercy calling; run to her! + + [TIBBY starts off, turns back and lifts her face. He bends to + kiss her, and flinging her arms round his neck, she gives him a + good hug. Then, knuckling the sleep out of her eyes, she runs.] + + [STRANGWAY stands, uncertain. There is a sound of heavy + footsteps; a man clears his throat, close by.] + +STRANGWAY. Who's that? + +CREMER. Jack Cremer. [The big man's figure appears out of the +shadow of the barn] That yu, zurr? + +STRANGWAY. Yes, Jack. How goes it? + +CREMER. 'Tes empty, zurr. But I'll get on some'ow. + +STRANGWAY. You put me to shame. + +CREMER. No, zurr. I'd be killin' meself, if I didn' feel I must +stick it, like yu zaid. + + [They stand gazing at each other in the moonlight.] + +STRANGWAY. [Very low] I honour you. + +CREMER. What's that? [Then, as STRANGWAY does not answer] I'll +just be walkin'--I won' be gain' 'ome to-night. 'Tes the full mune-- +lucky. + +STRANGWAY. [Suddenly] Wait for me at the crossroads, Jack. I'll +come with you. Will you have me, brother? + +CREMER. Sure! + +STRANGWAY. Wait, then. + +CREMER. Aye, zurr. + + [With his heavy tread CREMER passes on. And STRANGWAY leans + against the lintel of the door, looking at the moon, that, quite + full and golden, hangs not far above the straight horizon, where + the trees stand small, in a row.] + +STRANGWAY. [Lifting his hand in the gesture of prayer] God, of the +moon and the sun; of joy and beauty, of loneliness and sorrow--give +me strength to go on, till I love every living thing! + + [He moves away, following JACK CREMER. The full moon shines; + the owl hoots; and some one is shaking TIBBY'S tambourine.] + + + + + + +THE FOUNDATIONS + +(AN EXTRAVAGANT PLAY) + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY, M.P. +LADY WILLIAM DROMONDY +LITTLE ANNE +MISS STOKES +MR. POULDER +JAMES +HENRY +THOMAS +CHARLES +THE PRESS +LEMMY +OLD MRS. LEMMY +LITTLE AIDA +THE DUKE OF EXETER + +Some ANTI-SWEATERS; Some SWEATED WORKERS; and a CROWD + + + + +SCENES + +SCENE I. The cellar at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S in Park Lane. + +SCENE II. The room of old MRS. LEMMY in Bethnal Green. + +SCENE III. Ante-room of the hall at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S + + + +The Action passes continuously between 8 and 10.30 of a +summer evening, some years after the Great War. + + + + +ACT I + + +LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S mansion in Park Lane. Eight o'clock of the +evening. LITTLE ANNE DROMONDY and the large footman, JAMES, gaunt +and grin, discovered in the wine cellar, by light of gas. JAMES, in +plush breeches, is selecting wine. + +L. ANNE: James, are you really James? + +JAMES. No, my proper name's John. + +L. ANNE. Oh! [A pause] And is Charles's an improper name too? + +JAMES. His proper name's Mark. + +L. ANNE. Then is Thomas Matthew? + +JAMES. Miss Anne, stand clear o' that bin. You'll put your foot +through one o' those 'ock bottles. + +L. ANNE. No, but James--Henry might be Luke, really? + +JAMES. Now shut it, Miss Anne! + +L. ANNE. Who gave you those names? Not your godfathers and +godmothers? + +JAMES. Poulder. Butlers think they're the Almighty. [Gloomily] +But his name's Bartholomew. + +L. ANNE. Bartholomew Poulder? It's rather jolly. + +JAMES. It's hidjeous. + +L. ANNE. Which do you like to be called--John or James? + +JAMES. I don't give a darn. + +L. ANNE. What is a darn? + +JAMES. 'Tain't in the dictionary. + +L. ANNE. Do you like my name? Anne Dromondy? It's old, you know. +But it's funny, isn't it? + +JAMES. [Indifferently] It'll pass. + +L. ANNE. How many bottles have you got to pick out? + +JAMES. Thirty-four. + +L. ANNE. Are they all for the dinner, or for the people who come in +to the Anti-Sweating Meeting afterwards? + +JAMES. All for the dinner. They give the Sweated--tea. + +L. ANNE. All for the dinner? They'll drink too much, won't they? + +JAMES. We've got to be on the safe side. + +L. ANNE. Will it be safer if they drink too much? + + [JAMES pauses in the act of dusting a bottle to look at her, as + if suspecting irony.] + +[Sniffing] Isn't the smell delicious here-like the taste of cherries +when they've gone bad--[She sniffs again] and mushrooms; and boot +blacking. + +JAMES. That's the escape of gas. + +L. ANNE. Has the plumber's man been? + +JAMES. Yes. + +L. ANNE. Which one? + +JAMES. Little blighter I've never seen before. + +L. ANNE. What is a little blighter? Can I see? + +JAMES. He's just gone. + +L. ANNE. [Straying] Oh! . . . James, are these really the +foundations? + +JAMES. You might 'arf say so. There's a lot under a woppin' big +house like this; you can't hardly get to the bottom of it. + +L. ANNE. Everything's built on something, isn't it? And what's THAT +built on? + +JAMES. Ask another. + +L. ANNE. If you wanted to blow it up, though, you'd have to begin +from here, wouldn't you? + +JAMES. Who'd want to blow it up? + +L. ANNE. It would make a mess in Park Lane. + +JAMES. I've seen a lot bigger messes than this'd make, out in the +war. + +L. ANNE. Oh! but that's years ago! Was it like this in the +trenches, James? + +JAMES. [Grimly] Ah! 'Cept that you couldn't lay your 'and on a +bottle o' port when you wanted one. + +L. ANNE. Do you, when you want it, here? + +JAMES. [On guard] I only suggest it's possible. + +L. ANNE. Perhaps Poulder does. + +JAMES. [Icily] I say nothin' about that. + +L. ANNE. Oh! Do say something! + +JAMES. I'm ashamed of you, Miss Anne, pumpin' me! + +L. ANNE. [Reproachfully] I'm not pumpin'! I only want to make +Poulder jump when I ask him. + +JAMES. [Grinning] Try it on your own responsibility, then; don't +bring me in! + +L. ANNE. [Switching off] James, do you think there's going to be a +bloody revolution? + +JAMES. [Shocked] I shouldn't use that word, at your age. + +L. ANNE. Why not? Daddy used it this morning to Mother. +[Imitating] "The country's in an awful state, darling; there's going +to be a bloody revolution, and we shall all be blown sky-high." Do +you like Daddy? + +JAMES. [Taken aback] Like Lord William? What do you think? We +chaps would ha' done anything for him out there in the war. + +L. ANNE. He never says that he always says he'd have done anything +for you! + +JAMES. Well--that's the same thing. + +L. ANNE. It isn't--it's the opposite. What is class hatred, James? + +JAMES. [Wisely] Ah! A lot o' people thought when the war was over +there'd be no more o' that. [He sniggers] Used to amuse me to read +in the papers about the wonderful unity that was comin'. I could ha' +told 'em different. + +L. ANNE. Why should people hate? I like everybody. + +JAMES. You know such a lot o' people, don't you? + +L. ANNE. Well, Daddy likes everybody, and Mother likes everybody, +except the people who don't like Daddy. I bar Miss Stokes, of +course; but then, who wouldn't? + +JAMES. [With a touch of philosophy] That's right--we all bars them +that tries to get something out of us. + +L. ANNE. Who do you bar, James? + +JAMES. Well--[Enjoying the luxury of thought]--Speaking generally, I +bar everybody that looks down their noses at me. Out there in the +trenches, there'd come a shell, and orf'd go some orficer's head, an' +I'd think: That might ha' been me--we're all equal in the sight o' +the stars. But when I got home again among the torfs, I says to +meself: Out there, ye know, you filled a hole as well as me; but here +you've put it on again, with mufti. + +L. ANNE. James, are your breeches made of mufti? + +JAMES. [Contemplating his legs with a certain contempt] Ah! +Footmen were to ha' been off; but Lord William was scared we wouldn't +get jobs in the rush. We're on his conscience, and it's on my +conscience that I've been on his long enough--so, now I've saved a +bit, I'm goin' to take meself orf it. + +L. ANNE. Oh! Are you going? Where? + +JAMES. [Assembling the last bottles] Out o' Blighty! + +L. ANNE. Is a little blighter a little Englishman? + +JAMES. [Embarrassed] Well-'e can be. + +L. ANNE [Mining] James--we're quite safe down here, aren't we, in a +revolution? Only, we wouldn't have fun. Which would you rather--be +safe, or have fun? + +JAMES. [Grimly] Well, I had my bit o' fun in the war. + +L. ANNE. I like fun that happens when you're not looking. + +JAMES. Do you? You'd ha' been just suited. + +L. ANNE. James, is there a future life? Miss Stokes says so. + +JAMES. It's a belief, in the middle classes. + +L. ANNE. What are the middle classes? + +JAMES. Anything from two 'undred a year to supertax. + +L. ANNE. Mother says they're terrible. Is Miss Stokes middle class? + +JAMES. Yes. + +L. ANNE. Then I expect they are terrible. She's awfully virtuous, +though, isn't she? + +JAMES. 'Tisn't so much the bein' virtuous, as the lookin' it, that's +awful. + +L. ANNE. Are all the middle classes virtuous? Is Poulder? + +JAMES. [Dubiously] Well. Ask him! + +L. ANNE. Yes, I will. Look! + + [From an empty bin on the ground level she picks up a lighted + taper,--burnt almost to the end.] + +JAMES. [Contemplating it] Careless! + +L. Ate. Oh! And look! [She paints to a rounded metal object lying +in the bin, close to where the taper was] It's a bomb! + +She is about to pick it up when JAMES takes her by the waist and puts +her aside. + +JAMES. [Sternly] You stand back, there! I don't like the look o' +that! + +L. ANNE. [With intense interest] Is it really a bomb? What fun! + +JAMES. Go and fetch Poulder while I keep an eye on it. + +L. ANNE. [On tiptoe of excitement] If only I can make him jump! +Oh, James! we needn't put the light out, need we? + +JAMES. No. Clear off and get him, and don't you come back. + +L. ANNE. Oh! but I must! I found it! + +JAMES. Cut along. + +L. ANNE. Shall we bring a bucket? + +JAMES. Yes. [ANNE flies off.] + +[Gazing at the object] Near go! Thought I'd seen enough o'them +to last my time. That little gas blighter! He looked a rum 'un, +too--one o' these 'ere Bolshies. + + [In the presence of this grim object the habits of the past are + too much for him. He sits on the ground, leaning against one of + the bottle baskets, keeping his eyes on the bomb, his large, + lean, gorgeous body spread, one elbow on his plush knee. Taking + out an empty pipe, he places it mechanically, bowl down, between + his dips. There enter, behind him, as from a communication + trench, POULDER, in swallow-tails, with LITTLE ANNE behind him.] + +L. ANNE. [Peering round him--ecstatic] Hurrah! Not gone off yet! +It can't--can it--while James is sitting on it? + +POULDER. [Very broad and stout, with square shoulders,--a large +ruddy face, and a small mouth] No noise, Miss.--James. + +JAMES. Hallo! + +POULDER. What's all this? + +JAMES. Bomb! + +POULDER. Miss Anne, off you go, and don't you---- + +L. ANNE. Come back again! I know! [She flies.] + +JAMES. [Extending his hand with the pipe in it] See! + +POULDER. [Severely] You've been at it again! Look here, you're not +in the trenches now. Get up! What are your breeches goin' to be +like? You might break a bottle any moment! + +JAMES. [Rising with a jerk to a sort of "Attention!"] Look here, +you starched antiquity, you and I and that bomb are here in the sight +of the stars. If you don't look out I'll stamp on it and blow us all +to glory! Drop your civilian swank! + +POULDER. [Seeing red] Ho! Because you had the privilege of +fightin' for your country you still think you can put it on, do you? +Take up your wine! 'Pon my word, you fellers have got no nerve left! + + [JAMES makes a sudden swoop, lifts the bomb and poises it in + both hands. POULDER recoils against a bin and gazes, at the + object.] + +JAMES. Put up your hands! + +POULDER. I defy you to make me ridiculous. + +JAMES. [Fiercely] Up with 'em! + + [POULDER'S hands go up in an uncontrollable spasm, which he + subdues almost instantly, pulling them down again.] + +JAMES. Very good. [He lowers the bomb.] + +POULDER. [Surprised] I never lifted 'em. + +JAMES. You'd have made a first-class Boche, Poulder. Take the bomb +yourself; you're in charge of this section. + +POULDER. [Pouting] It's no part of my duty to carry menial objects; +if you're afraid of it I'll send 'Enry. + +JAMES. Afraid! You 'Op o' me thumb! + + [From the "communication trench" appears LITTLE ANNE, followed + by a thin, sharp, sallow-faced man of thirty-five or so, and + another FOOTMAN, carrying a wine-cooler.] + +L. ANNE. I've brought the bucket, and the Press. + +PRESS. [In front of POULDER'S round eyes and mouth] Ah, major domo, +I was just taking the names of the Anti-Sweating dinner. [He catches +sight of the bomb in JAMES'S hand] By George! What A.1. irony! [He +brings out a note-book and writes] "Highest class dining to relieve +distress of lowest class-bombed by same!" Tipping! [He rubs his +hands]. + +POULDER. [Drawing himself up] Sir? This is present! [He indicates +ANNE with the flat of his hand.] + +L. ANNE. I found the bomb. + +PRESS. [Absorbed] By Jove! This is a piece of luck! [He writes.] + +POULDER. [Observing him] This won't do--it won't do at all! + +PRESS. [Writing-absorbed] "Beginning of the British Revolution!" + +POULDER. [To JAMES] Put it in the cooler. 'Enry, 'old up the +cooler. Gently! Miss Anne, get be'ind the Press. + +JAMES. [Grimly--holding the bomb above the cooler] It won't be the +Press that'll stop Miss Anne's goin' to 'Eaven if one o' this sort +goes off. Look out! I'm goin' to drop it. + + [ALL recoil. HENRY puts the cooler down and backs away.] + +L. ANNE. [Dancing forward] Oh! Let me see! I missed all the war, +you know! + + [JAMES lowers the bomb into the cooler.] + +POULDER. [Regaining courage--to THE PRESS, who is scribbling in his +note-book] If you mention this before the police lay their hands on +it, it'll be contempt o' Court. + +PRESS. [Struck] I say, major domo, don't call in the police! +That's the last resort. Let me do the Sherlocking for you. Who's +been down here? + +L. ANNE. The plumber's man about the gas---a little blighter we'd +never seen before. + +JAMES. Lives close by, in Royal Court Mews--No. 3. I had a word +with him before he came down. Lemmy his name is. + +PRESS. "Lemmy!" [Noting the address] Right-o! + +L. ANNE. Oh! Do let me come with you! + +POULDER. [Barring the way] I've got to lay it all before Lord +William. + +PRESS. Ah! What's he like? + +POULDER. [With dignity] A gentleman, sir. + +PRESS. Then he won't want the police in. + +POULDER. Nor the Press, if I may go so far, as to say so. + +PRESS. One to you! But I defy you to keep this from the Press, +major domo: This is the most significant thing that has happened in +our time. Guy Fawkes is nothing to it. The foundations of Society +reeling! By George, it's a second Bethlehem! + + [He writes.] + +POULDER. [To JAMES] Take up your wine and follow me. 'Enry, bring +the cooler. Miss Anne, precede us. [To THE PRESS] You defy me? +Very well; I'm goin' to lock you up here. + +PRESS. [Uneasy] I say this is medieval. + + [He attempts to pass.] + +POULDER. [Barring the way] Not so! James, put him up in that empty +'ock bin. We can't have dinner disturbed in any way. + +JAMES. [Putting his hands on THE PRESS'S shoulders] Look here--go +quiet! I've had a grudge against you yellow newspaper boys ever +since the war--frothin' up your daily hate, an' makin' the Huns +desperate. You nearly took my life five hundred times out there. If +you squeal, I'm gain' to take yours once--and that'll be enough. + +PRESS. That's awfully unjust. Im not yellow! + +JAMES. Well, you look it. Hup. + +PRESS. Little Lady-Anne, haven't you any authority with these +fellows? + +L. ANNE. [Resisting Poulard's pressure] I won't go! I simply must +see James put him up! + +PRESS. Now, I warn you all plainly--there'll be a leader on this. + + [He tries to bolt but is seized by JAMES.] + +JAMES. [Ironically] Ho! + +PRESS. My paper has the biggest influence + +JAMES. That's the one! Git up in that 'ock bin, and mind your feet +among the claret. + +PRESS. This is an outrage on the Press. + +JAMES. Then it'll wipe out one by the Press on the Public--an' leave +just a million over! Hup! + +POULDER. 'Enry, give 'im an 'and. + + [THE PRESS mounts, assisted by JAMES and HENRY.] + +L. ANNE. [Ecstatic] It's lovely! + +POULDER. [Nervously] Mind the '87! Mind! + +JAMES. Mind your feet in Mr. Poulder's favourite wine! + + [A WOMAN'S voice is heard, as from the depths of a cave, calling + "Anne! Anne!"] + +L. ANNE. [Aghast] Miss Stokes--I must hide! + + [She gets behind POULDER. The three Servants achieve dignified + positions in front of the bins. The voice comes nearer. THE + PRESS sits dangling his feet, grinning. MISS STOKES appears. + She is woman of forty-five and terribly good manners. Her + greyish hair is rolled back off her forehead. She is in a high + evening dress, and in the dim light radiates a startled + composure.] + +MISS STOKES. Poulder, where is Miss Anne? + + [ANNE lays hold of the backs of his legs.] + +POULDER. [Wincing] I am not in a position to inform you, Miss. + +MISS S. They told me she was down here. And what is all this about +a bomb? + +POULDER. [Lifting his hand in a calming manner] The crisis is past; +we have it in ice, Miss. 'Enry, show Miss Stokes! [HENRY indicates +the cooler.] + +MISS S. Good gracious! Does Lord William know? + +POULDER. Not at present, Miss. + +MISS S. But he ought to, at once. + +POULDER. We 'ave 'ad complications. + +MISS S. [Catching sight of the legs of THE PRESS] Dear me! What +are those? + +JAMES. [Gloomily] The complications. + + [MISS STOKES pins up her glasses and stares at them.] + +PRESS. [Cheerfully] Miss Stokes, would you kindly tell Lord William +I'm here from the Press, and would like to speak to him? + +MISS S. But--er--why are you up there? + +JAMES. 'E got up out o' remorse, Miss. + +MISS S. What do you mean, James? + +PRESS. [Warmly] Miss Stokes, I appeal to you. Is it fair to +attribute responsibility to an unsigned journalist--for what he has +to say? + +JAMES. [Sepulchrally] Yes, when you've got 'im in a nice dark +place. + +MISS. S. James, be more respectful! We owe the Press a very great +debt. + +JAMES. I'm goin' to pay it, Miss. + +MISS S. [At a loss] Poulder, this is really most---- + +POULDER. I'm bound to keep the Press out of temptation, miss, till +I've laid it all before Lord William. 'Enry, take up the cooler. +James, watch 'im till we get clear, then bring on the rest of the +wine and lock up. Now, Miss. + +MISS S. But where is Anne? + +PRESS. Miss Stokes, as a lady----! + +MISS S. I shall go and fetch Lord William! + +POULDER. We will all go, Miss. + +L. ANNE. [Rushing out from behind his legs] No--me! + + [She eludes MISS STOKES and vanishes, followed by that + distracted but still well-mannered lady.] + +POULDER. [Looking at his watch] 'Enry, leave the cooler, and take +up the wine; tell Thomas to lay it out; get the champagne into ice, +and 'ave Charles 'andy in the 'all in case some literary bounder +comes punctual. + + [HENRY takes up the wine and goes.] + +PRESS. [Above his head] I say, let me down. This is a bit +undignified, you know. My paper's a great organ. + +POULDER. [After a moment's hesitation] Well--take 'im down, James; +he'll do some mischief among the bottles. + +JAMES. 'Op off your base, and trust to me. + + [THE PRESS slides off the bin's edge, is received by JAMES, and + not landed gently.] + +POULDER. [Contemplating him] The incident's closed; no ill-feeling, +I hope? + +PRESS. No-o. + +POULDER. That's right. [Clearing his throat] While we're waitin' +for Lord William--if you're interested in wine--[Philosophically] +you can read the history of the times in this cellar. Take 'ock: [He +points to a bin] Not a bottle gone. German product, of course. +Now, that 'ock is 'sa 'avin' the time of its life--maturin' grandly; +got a wonderful chance. About the time we're bringin' ourselves to +drink it, we shall be havin' the next great war. With luck that 'ock +may lie there another quarter of a century, and a sweet pretty wine +it'll be. I only hope I may be here to drink it. Ah! [He shakes his +head]--but look at claret! Times are hard on claret. We're givin' +it an awful doin'. Now, there's a Ponty Canny [He points to a bin]-- +if we weren't so 'opelessly allied with France, that wine would have +a reasonable future. As it is--none! We drink it up and up; not +more than sixty dozen left. And where's its equal to come from for a +dinner wine--ah! I ask you? On the other hand, port is steady; made +in a little country, all but the cobwebs and the old boot flavour; +guaranteed by the British Nary; we may 'ope for the best with port. +Do you drink it? + +PRESS. When I get the chance. + +POULDER. Ah! [Clears his throat] I've often wanted to ask: What do +they pay you--if it's not indelicate? + +[THE PRESS shrugs his shoulders.] + +Can you do it at the money? + +[THE PRESS shakes his head.] Still--it's an easy life! I've +regretted sometimes that I didn't have a shot at it myself; +influencin' other people without disclosin' your identity--something +very attractive about that. [Lowering his voice] Between man and +man, now-what do you think of the situation of the country--these +processions of the unemployed--the Red Flag an' the Marsillaisy in +the streets--all this talk about an upheaval? + +PRESS. Well, speaking as a Socialist---- + +POULDER. [Astounded] Why; I thought your paper was Tory! + +PRESS. So it is. That's nothing! + +POULDER. [Open-mouthed] Dear me! [Pointing to the bomb] Do you +really think there's something in this? + +JAMES. [Sepulchrally] 'Igh explosive. + +PRESS. [Taking out his note-book] Too much, anyway, to let it drop. + + [A pleasant voice calls "Poulder! Hallo!".] + +POULDER. [Forming a trumpet with his hand] Me Lord! + + [As LORD WILLIAM appears, JAMES, overcome by reminiscences; + salutes, and is mechanically answered. LORD WILLIAM has + "charm." His hair and moustache are crisp and just beginning to + grizzle. His bearing is free, easy, and only faintly armoured. + He will go far to meet you any day. He is in full evening + dress.] + +LORD W. [Cheerfully] I say, Poulder, what have you and James been +doing to the Press? Liberty of the Press--it isn't what it was, but +there is a limit. Where is he? + + [He turns to Jams between whom and himself there is still the + freemasonry of the trenches.] + +JAMES. [Pointing to POULDER] Be'ind the parapet, me Lord. + + [THE PRESS mopes out from where he has involuntarily been. + screened by POULDER, who looks at JAMES severely. LORD WILLIAM + hides a smile.] + +PRESS. Very glad to meet you, Lord William. My presence down here +is quite involuntary. + +LORD W. [With a charming smile] I know. The Press has to put its-- +er--to go to the bottom of everything. Where's this bomb, Poulder? +Ah! + + [He looks into the wine cooler.] + +PRESS. [Taking out his note-book] Could I have a word with you on +the crisis, before dinner, Lord William? + +LORD W. It's time you and James were up, Poulder. [Indicating the +cooler] Look after this; tell Lady William I'll be there in a +minute. + +POULDER. Very good, me Lord. + + [He goes, followed by JAMES carrying the cooler.] + + [As THE PRESS turns to look after them, LORD WILLIAM catches + sight of his back.] + +LORD W. I must apologise, sir. Can I brush you? + +PRESS. [Dusting himself] Thanks; it's only behind. [He opens his +note-book] Now, Lord William, if you'd kindly outline your views on +the national situation; after such a narrow escape from death, I feel +they might have a moral effect. My paper, as you know, is concerned +with--the deeper aspect of things. By the way, what do you value +your house and collection at? + +LORD W. [Twisting his little mustache] Really: I can't! Really! + +PRESS. Might I say a quarter of a million-lifted in two seconds and +a half-hundred thousand to the second. It brings it home, you know. + +LORD W. No, no; dash it! No! + +PRESS. [Disappointed] I see--not draw attention to your property in +the present excited state of public feeling? Well, suppose we +approach it from the viewpoint of the Anti-Sweating dinner. I have +the list of guests--very weighty! + +LORD W. Taken some lifting-wouldn't they? + +PRESS. [Seriously] May I say that you designed the dinner to soften +the tension, at this crisis? You saw that case, I suppose, this +morning, of the woman dying of starvation in Bethnal Green? + +LORD W. [Desperately] Yes-yes! I've been horribly affected. I +always knew this slump would come after the war, sooner or later. + +PRESS. [Writing] ". . . had predicted slump." + +LORD W. You see, I've been an Anti-Sweating man for years, and I +thought if only we could come together now . . . . + +PRESS. [Nodding] I see--I see! Get Society interested in the +Sweated, through the dinner. I have the menu here. [He produces it.] + +LORD W. Good God, man--more than that! I want to show the people +that we stand side by side with them, as we did in the trenches. The +whole thing's too jolly awful. I lie awake over it. + + [He walks up and down.] + +PRESS. [Scribbling] One moment, please. I'll just get that down-- +"Too jolly awful--lies awake over it. Was wearing a white waistcoat +with pearl buttons." [At a sign of resentment from his victim.] +I want the human touch, Lord William--it's everything in my paper. +What do you say about this attempt to bomb you? + +LORD W. Well, in a way I think it's d---d natural + +PRESS. [Scribbling] "Lord William thought it d---d natural." + +LORD W. [Overhearing] No, no; don't put that down. What I mean is, +I should like to get hold of those fellows that are singing the +Marseillaise about the streets--fellows that have been in the war-- +real sports they are, you know--thorough good chaps at bottom--and +say to them: "Have a feeling heart, boys; put yourself in my +position." I don't believe a bit they'd want to bomb me then. + + [He walks up and down.] + +PRESS. [Scribbling and muttering] "The idea, of brotherhood--" D'you +mind my saying that? Word brotherhood--always effective--always---- + + [He writes.] + +LORD E. [Bewildered] "Brotherhood!" Well, it's pure accident that +I'm here and they're there. All the same, I can't pretend to be +starving. Can't go out into Hyde Park and stand on a tub, can I? +But if I could only show them what I feel--they're such good chaps-- +poor devils. + +PRESS. I quite appreciate! [He writes] "Camel and needle's eye." +You were at Eton and Oxford? Your constituency I know. Clubs? But +I can get all that. Is it your view that Christianity is on the +up-grade, Lord William? + +LORD W. [Dubious] What d'you mean by Christianity--loving--kindness +and that? Of course I think that dogma's got the knock. + + [He walks.] + +PRESS. [Writing] "Lord William thought dogma had got the knock." +I should like you just to develop your definition of Christianity. +"Loving--kindness" strikes rather a new note. + +LORD W. New? What about the Sermon on the Mount? + +PRESS. [Writing] "Refers to Sermon on Mount." I take it you don't +belong to any Church, Lord William? + +LORD W. [Exasperated] Well, really--I've been baptised and that +sort of thing. But look here---- + +PRESS. Oh! you can trust me--I shan't say anything that you'll +regret. Now, do you consider that a religious revival would help to +quiet the country? + +LORD W. Well, I think it would be a deuced, good thing if everybody +were a bit more kind. + +PRESS. Ah! [Musing] I feel that your views are strikingly +original, Lord William. If you could just open out on them a little +more? How far would you apply kindness in practice? + +LORD W. Can you apply it in theory? + +PRESS. I believe it is done. But would you allow yourself to be +blown up with impunity? + +LORD W. Well, that's a bit extreme. But I quite sympathise with +this chap. Imagine yourself in his shoes. He sees a huge house, all +these bottles; us swilling them down; perhaps he's got a starving +wife, or consumptive kids. + +PRESS. [Writing and murmuring] Um-m! "Kids." + +LORD W. He thinks: "But for the grace of God, there swill I. Why +should that blighter have everything and I nothing?" and all that. + +PRESS. [Writing] "And all that." [Eagerly] Yes? + +LORD W. And gradually--you see--this contrast--becomes an obsession +with him. "There's got to be an example made," he thinks; and--er-- +he makes it, don't you know? + +PRESS. [Writing] Ye-es? And--when you're the example? + +LORD W. Well, you feel a bit blue, of course. But my point is that +you quite see it. + +PRESS. From the other world. Do you believe in a future life, Lord +William? The public took a lot of interest in the question, if you +remember, at the time of the war. It might revive at any moment, if +there's to be a revolution. + +LORD W. The wish is always father to the thought, isn't it? + +PRESS. Yes! But--er--doesn't the question of a future life rather +bear on your point about kindness? If there isn't one--why be kind? + +LORD W. Well, I should say one oughtn't to be kind for any motive-- +that's self-interest; but just because one feels it, don't you know. + +PRESS. [Writing vigorously] That's very new--very new! + +LORD W. [Simply] You chaps are wonderful. + +PRESS. [Doubtfully] You mean we're--we're---- + +LORD W. No, really. You have such a d---d hard time. It must be +perfectly beastly to interview fellows like me. + +PRESS. Oh! Not at all, Lord William. Not at all. I assure you +compared with a literary man, it's--it's almost heavenly. + +LORD W. You must have a wonderful knowledge of things. + +PRESS. [Bridling a little] Well--I shouldn't say that. + +LORD W. I don't see how you can avoid it. You turn your hands to +everything. + +PRESS. [Modestly] Well--yes, Yes. + +LORD W. I say: Is there really going to be a revolution, or are you +making it up, you Press? + +PRESS. We don't know. We never know whether we come before the +event, or it comes before us. + +LORD W. That's--very deep--very dip. D'you mind lending me your +note-book a moment. I'd like to stick that down. All right, I'll +use the other end. [THE PRESS hands it hypnotically.] + +LORD W. [Jotting] Thanks awfully. Now what's your real opinion of +the situation? + +PRESS. As a man or a Press man? + +LORD W. Is there any difference? + +PRESS. Is there any connection? + +LORD W. Well, as a man. + +PRESS. As a man, I think it's rotten. + +LORD W. [Jotting] "Rotten." And as a pressman? + +PRESS. [Smiling] Prime. + +LORD W. What! Like a Stilton cheese. Ha, ha! + + [He is about to write.] + +PRESS. My stunt, Lord William. You said that. + + [He jots it on his cuff.] + +LORD W. But look here! Would you say that a strong press movement +would help to quiet the country? + +PRESS. Well, as you ask me, Lord William, I'll tell you. No +newspapers for a month would do the trick. + +LORD W. [Jotting] By Jove! That's brilliant. + +PRESS. Yes, but I should starve. [He suddenly looks up, and his +eyes, like gimlets, bore their way into LORD WILLIAM'S pleasant, +troubled face] Lord William, you could do me a real kindness. +Authorise me to go and interview the fellow who left the bomb here; +I've got his address. I promise you to do it most discreetly. Fact +is--well--I'm in low water. Since the war we simply can't get +sensation enough for the new taste. Now, if I could have an article +headed: "Bombed and Bomber"--sort of double interview, you know, it'd +very likely set me on my legs again. [Very earnestly] Look! +[He holds out his frayed wristbands.] + +LORD W. [Grasping his hand] My dear chap, certainly. Go and +interview this blighter, and then bring him round here. You can do +that for one. I'd very much like to see him, as a matter of fact. + +PRESS. Thanks awfully; I shall never forget it. Oh! might I have +my note-book? + + [LORD WILLIAM hands it back.] + +LORD W. And look here, if there's anything--when a fellow's +fortunate and another's not---- + +[He puts his hand into his breast pocket.] + +PRESS. Oh, thank you! But you see, I shall have to write you up a +bit, Lord William. The old aristocracy--you know what the public +still expects; if you were to lend me money, you might feel---- + +LORD W. By Jove! Never should have dreamt---- + +PRESS. No! But it wouldn't do. Have you a photograph of yourself. + +LORD W. Not on me. + +PRESS. Pity! By the way, has it occurred to you that there may be +another bomb on the premises? + +LORD W. Phew! I'll have a look. + + [He looks at his watch, and begins hurriedly searching the bins, + bending down and going on his knees. THE PRESS reverses the + notebook again and sketches him.] + +PRESS. [To himself] Ah! That'll do. "Lord William examines the +foundations of his house." + + [A voice calls "Bill!" THE PRESS snaps the note-book to, and + looks up. There, where the "communication trench" runs in, + stands a tall and elegant woman in the extreme of evening + dress.] + + [With presence of mind] Lady William? You'll find Lord William +--Oh! Have you a photograph of him? + +LADY W. Not on me. + +PRESS. [Eyeing her] Er--no--I suppose not--no. Excuse me! [He +sidles past her and is gone.] + +LADY W. [With lifted eyebrows] Bill! + +LORD W. [Emerging, dusting his knees] Hallo, Nell! I was just +making sure there wasn't another bomb. + +LADY W. Yes; that's why I came dawn: Who was that person? + +LORD W. Press. + +LADY W. He looked awfully yellow. I hope you haven't been giving +yourself away. + +LORD W. [Dubiously] Well, I don't know. They're like corkscrews. + +LADY W. What did he ask you? + +LORD W. What didn't he? + +LADY W. Well, what did you tell him? + +LORD W. That I'd been baptised--but he promised not to put it down. + +LADY W. Bill, you are absurd. + + [She gives a light tittle laugh.] + +LORD W. I don't remember anything else, except that it was quite +natural we should be bombed, don't you know. + +LADY W. Why, what harm have we done? + +LORD W. Been born, my dear. [Suddenly serious] I say, Nell, how am +I to tell what this fellow felt when he left that bomb here? + +LADY W. Why do you want to? + +LORD W. Out there one used to know what one's men felt. + +LADY W. [Staring] My dear boy, I really don't think you ought to +see the Press; it always upsets you. + +LORD W. Well! Why should you and I be going to eat ourselves silly +to improve the condition of the sweated, when---- + +LADY W. [Calmly] When they're going to "improve" ours, if we don't +look out. We've got to get in first, Bill. + +LORD W. [Gloomily] I know. It's all fear. That's it! Here we +are, and here we shall stay--as if there'd never been a war. + +LADY W. Well, thank heaven there's no "front" to a revolution. You +and I can go to glory together this time. Compact! Anything that's +on, I'm to abate in. + +LORD W. Well, in reason. + +LADY W. No, in rhyme, too. + +LORD W. I say, your dress! + +LADY W. Yes, Poulder tried to stop me, but I wasn't going to have +you blown up without me. + +LORD W. You duck. You do look stunning. Give us a kiss! + +LADY W. [Starting back] Oh, Bill! Don't touch me--your hands! + +LORD W. Never mind, my mouth's clean. + +They stand about a yard apart, and banding their faces towards each +other, kiss on the lips. + +L. ANNE. [Appearing suddenly from the "communication trench," and +tip-toeing silently between them] Oh, Mum! You and Daddy ARE +wasting time! Dinner's ready, you know! + + + CURTAIN + + + + +ACT II + + The single room of old MRS. LEMMY, in a small grey house in + Bethnal Green, the room of one cumbered by little save age, and + the crockery debris of the past. A bed, a cupboard, a coloured + portrait of Queen Victoria, and--of all things--a fiddle, + hanging on the wall. By the side of old MRS. LEMMY in her chair + is a pile of corduroy trousers, her day's sweated sewing, and a + small table. She sits with her back to the window, through + which, in the last of the light, the opposite side of the little + grey street is visible under the evening sky, where hangs one + white cloud shaped like a horned beast. She is still sewing, + and her lips move. Being old, and lonely, she has that habit of + talking to herself, distressing to those who cannot overhear. + From the smack of her tongue she was once a West Country cottage + woman; from the look of her creased, parchmenty face, she was + once a pretty girl with black eyes, in which there is still much + vitality. The door is opened with difficulty and a little girl + enters, carrying a pile of unfinished corduroy trousers nearly + as large as herself. She puts them down against the wall, and + advances. She is eleven or twelve years old; large-eyed, dark + haired, and sallow. Half a woman of this and half of another + world, except when as now, she is as irresponsible a bit of life + as a little flowering weed growing out of a wall. She stands + looking at MRS. LEMMY with dancing eyes. + +L. AIDA. I've brought yer to-morrer's trahsers. Y'nt yer finished +wiv to-dy's? I want to tyke 'em. + +MRS. L. No, me dear. Drat this last one--me old fengers! + +L. AIDA. I learnt some poytry to-dy--I did. + +MRS. L. Well, I never! + +L. AIDA. [Reciting with unction] + + "Little lamb who myde thee? + Dost thou know who myde thee, + Gyve thee life and byde thee feed + By the stream and oer the mead; + Gyve the clothing of delight, + Softest clothing, woolly, bright; + Gyve thee such a tender voice, + Myking all the vyles rejoice. + Little lamb who myde thee? + Dost thou know who myde thee?" + +MRS. L. 'Tes wonderful what things they tache ya nowadays. + +L. AIDA. When I grow up I'm goin' to 'ave a revolver an' shoot the +people that steals my jools. + +MRS. L. Deary-me, wherever du yu get yore notions? + +L. AIDA. An' I'm goin' to ride on as 'orse be'ind a man; an' I'm +goin' to ryce trynes in my motor car. + +MRS. L. [Dryly] Ah!--Yu'um gwine to be very busy, that's sartin. +Can you sew? + +L. AIDA. [With a Smile] Nao. + +MRS. L. Don' they tache Yu that, there? + +L. AIDA. [Blending contempt and a lingering curiosity] Nao. + +MRS. L. 'Tes wonderful genteel. + +L. AIDA. I can sing, though. + +MRS. L. Let's 'ear yu, then. + +L. AIDA. [Shaking her head] I can ply the pianner. I can ply a +tune. + +MRS. L. Whose pianner? + +L. AIDA. Mrs. Brahn's when she's gone aht. + +MRS. L. Well, yu are gettin' edjucation! Du they tache yu to love +yore neighbours? + +L. AIDA. [Ineffably] Nao. [Straying to the window] Mrs. Lemmy, +what's the moon? + +MRS. L. The mune? Us used to zay 'twas made o' crame cheese. + +L. AIDA. I can see it. + +MRS. L. Ah! Don' yu never go wishin' for it, me dear. + +L. AIDA. I daon't. + +MRS. L. Folks as wish for the mune never du no gude. + +L. AIDA. [Craning out, brilliant] I'm goin' dahn in the street. +I'll come back for yer trahsers. + +MRS. L. Well; go yu, then, and get a breath o' fresh air in yore +chakes. I'll sune 'a feneshed. + +L. AIDA. [Solemnly] I'm goin' to be a dancer, I am. + +She rushes suddenly to the door, pulls it open, and is gone. + +MRS. L. [Looking after her, and talking to herself.] Ah! 'Er've +a-got all 'er troubles before 'er! "Little lamb, a made'ee?" +[Cackling] 'Tes a funny world, tu! [She sings to herself.] + + "There is a green 'ill far away + Without a city wall, + Where our dear-Lord was crucified, + 'U died to save us all." + + The door is opened, and LEMMY comes in; a little man with a + stubble of dark moustache and spiky dark hair; large, peculiar + eyes he has, and a look of laying his ears back, a look of + doubting, of perversity with laughter up the sleeve, that grows + on those who have to do with gas and water. He shuts the door. + +MRS. L. Well, Bob, I 'aven't a-seen yu this tu weeks. + + LEMMY comes up to his mother, and sits down on a stool, sets a + tool-bag between his knees, and speaks in a cockney voice. + +LEMMY. Well, old lydy o' leisure! Wot would y' 'ave for supper, if +yer could choose--salmon wivaht the tin, an' tipsy cyke? + +MRS. L. [Shaking her head and smiling blandly] That's showy. Toad +in the 'ole I'd 'ave--and a glass o' port wine. + +LEMMY. Providential. [He opens a tool-bag] Wot dyer think I've got +yer? + +MRS. L. I 'ope yu've a-got yureself a job, my son! + +LEMMY. [With his peculiar smile] Yus, or I couldn't 'ave afforded +yer this. [He takes out a bottle] Not 'arf! This'll put the blood +into yer. Pork wine--once in the cellars of the gryte. We'll drink +the ryyal family in this. + +[He apostrophises the portrait of Queen Victoria.] + +MRS. L. Ah! She was a praaper gude queen. I see 'er once, when 'er +was bein' burried. + +LEMMY. Ryalties--I got nothin' to sy agynst 'em in this country. +But the STYTE 'as got to 'ave its pipes seen to. The 'ole show's +goin' up pop. Yer'll wyke up one o' these dyes, old lydy, and find +yerself on the roof, wiv nuffin' between yer an' the grahnd. + +MRS. L. I can't tell what yu'm talkin' about. + +LEMMY. We're goin' to 'ave a triumpherat in this country Liberty, +Equality, Fraternity; an' if yer arsk me, they won't be in power six +months before they've cut each other's throats. But I don't care--I +want to see the blood flow! (Dispassionately) I don' care 'oose +blood it is. I want to see it flow! + +MRS. L. [Indulgently] Yu'm a funny boy, that's sartin. + +LEMMY. [Carving at the cork with a knife] This 'ere cork is like +Sasiety--rotten; it's old--old an' moulderin'. [He holds up a bit of +cork on the point of the knife] Crumblin' under the wax, it is. In +goes the screw an' out comes the cork. [With unction]--an' the blood +flows. [Tipping the bottle, he lets a drop fall into the middle of +his hand, and licks it up. Gazing with queer and doubting +commiseration at has mother] Well, old dear, wot shall we 'ave it +aht of--the gold loving-cup, or--what? 'Ave yer supper fust, though, +or it'll go to yer 'ead! [He goes to the cupboard and taken out a +disk in which a little bread is sopped in a little' milk] Cold pap! +'Ow can yer? 'Yn't yer got a kipper in the 'ouse? + +MRS. L. [Admiring the bottle] Port wine! 'Tis a brave treat! I'll +'ave it out of the "Present from Margitt," Bob. I tuk 'ee therr by +excursion when yu was six months. Yu 'ad a shrimp an' it choked yu +praaperly. Yu was always a squeamy little feller. I can't never +think 'ow yu managed in the war-time, makin' they shells. + + LEMMY, who has brought to the table two mugs and blown the duet + out of; them, fills them with port, and hands one to his mother, + who is eating her bread and milk. + +LEMMY. Ah! Nothin' worried me, 'cept the want o' soap. + +MRS. L. [Cackling gently] So it du still, then! Luke at yore face. +Yu never was a clean boy, like Jim. + + [She puts out a thin finger and touches his cheek, whereon is a + black smudge.] + +LEMMY. [Scrubbing his cheek with his sleeve.] All right! Y'see, I +come stryte 'ere, to get rid o' this. + + [He drinks.] + +MRS. L. [Eating her bread and milk] Tes a pity yu'm not got a wife +to see't yu wash yureself. + +LEMMY. [Goggling] Wife! Not me--I daon't want ter myke no food for +pahder. Wot oh!--they said, time o' the war--ye're fightin' for yer +children's 'eritage. Well; wot's the 'eritage like, now we've got +it? Empty as a shell before yer put the 'igh explosive in. Wot's it +like? [Warming to his theme] Like a prophecy in the pypers--not a +bit more substantial. + +MRS. L. [Slightly hypnotised] How 'e du talk! The gas goes to yore +'ead, I think! + +LEMMY. I did the gas to-dy in the cellars of an 'ouse where the wine +was mountains 'igh. A regiment couldn't 'a drunk it. Marble pillars +in the 'all, butler broad as an observytion balloon, an' four +conscientious khaki footmen. When the guns was roarin' the talk was +all for no more o' them glorious weeds-style an' luxury was orf. See +wot it is naow. You've got a bare crust in the cupboard 'ere, I +works from 'and to mouth in a glutted market--an' there they stand +abaht agyne in their britches in the 'oases o' the gryte. I was +reg'lar overcome by it. I left a thing in that cellar--I left a +thing . . . . It'll be a bit ork'ard for me to-mower. [Drinks +from his mug.] + +MRS. L. [Placidly, feeling the warmth of the little she has drunk] +What thing? + +LEMMY. Wot thing? Old lydy, ye're like a winkle afore yer opens +'er--I never see anything so peaceful. 'Ow dyer manage it? + +MRS. L. Settin' 'ere and thenkin'. + +LEA. Wot abaht? + +MRS. L. We-el--Money, an' the works o' God. + +LEMMY. Ah! So yer give me a thought sometimes. + +MRS. L. [Lofting her mug] Yu ought never to ha' spent yore money on +this, Bob! + +LEMMY. I thought that meself. + +MRS. L. Last time I 'ad a glass o' port wine was the day yore +brother Jim went to Ameriky. [Smacking her lips] For a teetotal +drink, it du warm 'ee! + +LEMMY. [Raising his mug] Well, 'ere's to the British revolution! +'Ere's to the conflygrytion in the sky! + +MRS. L. [Comfortably] So as to kape up therr, 'twon't du no 'arm. + + LEMMY goes to the window and unhooks his fiddle; he stands with + it halfway to his shoulder. Suddenly he opens the window and + leans out. A confused murmur of voices is heard; and a snatch + of the Marseillaise, sung by a girl. Then the shuffling tramp + of feet, and figures are passing in the street. + +LEMMY. [Turning--excited] Wot'd I tell yer, old lydy? There it is +--there it is! + +MRS. L. [Placidly] What is? + +LEMMY. The revolution. [He cranes out] They've got it on a barrer. +Cheerio! + +VOICE. [Answering] Cheerio! + +LEMMY. [Leaning out] I sy--you 'yn't tykin' the body, are yer? + +VOICE. Nao. + +LEMMY. Did she die o' starvytion O.K.? + +VOICE. She bloomin' well did; I know 'er brother. + +LEMMY. Ah! That'll do us a bit o' good! + +VOICE. Cheerio! + +LEMMY. So long! + +VOICE. So long! + + [The girl's voice is heard again in the distance singing the + Marseillaise. The door is flung open and LITTLE AIDA comes + running in again.] + +LEMMY. 'Allo, little Aida! + +L. AIDA. 'Allo, I been follerin' the corfin. It's better than an +'orse dahn! + +MRS. L. What coffin? + +L. AIDA. Why, 'er's wot died o' starvytion up the street. They're +goin' to tyke it to 'Yde Pawk, and 'oller. + +MRS. L. Well, never yu mind wot they'm goin' to du: Yu wait an' take +my trousers like a gude gell. + + [She puts her mug aside and takes up her unfinished pair of + trousers. But the wine has entered her fingers, and strength to + push the needle through is lacking.] + +LEMMY. [Tuning his fiddle] Wot'll yer 'ave, little Aida? "Dead March +in Saul" or "When the fields was white wiv dysies"? + +L. AIDA. [With a hop and a brilliant smile] Aoh yus! "When the +fields"---- + +MRS. L. [With a gesture of despair] Deary me! I 'aven't a-got the +strength! + +LEMMY. Leave 'em alone, old dear! No one'll be goin' aht wivaht +trahsers to-night 'cos yer leaves that one undone. Little Aida, fold +'em up! + + [LITTLE AIDA methodically folds the five finished pairs of + trousers into a pile. LEMMY begins playing. A smile comes on + the face of MRS. L, who is rubbing her fingers. LITTLE AIDA, + trousers over arm, goes and stares at LEMMY playing.] + +LEMMY. [Stopping] Little Aida, one o' vese dyes yer'll myke an +actress. I can see it in yer fyce! + + [LITTLE AIDA looks at him wide-eyed.] + +MRS. L. Don't 'ee putt things into 'er 'ead, Bob! + +LEMMY. 'Tyn't 'er 'ead, old lydy--it's lower. She wants feedin'-- +feed 'er an' she'll rise. [He strikes into the "Machichi"] Look at +'er naow. I tell yer there's a fortune in 'er. + + [LITTLE AIDA has put out her tongue.] + +MRS. L. I'd saner there was a gude 'eart in 'er than any fortune. + +L. AIDA. [Hugging her pile of trousers] It's thirteen pence three +farthin's I've got to bring yer, an' a penny aht for me, mykes twelve +three farthin's: [With the same little hop and sudden smile] I'm +goin' to ride back on a bus, I am. + +LEMMY. Well, you myke the most of it up there; it's the nearest +you'll ever git to 'eaven. + +MRS. L. Don' yu discourage 'er, Bob; she'm a gude little thing, an't +yu, dear? + +L. AIDA. [Simply] Yus. + +LEMMY. Not 'arf. Wot c'her do wiv yesterdy's penny? + +L. AIDA. Movies. + +LEMMY. An' the dy before? + +L. AIDA. Movies. + +LEMMY. Wot'd I tell yer, old lydy--she's got vicious tystes, she'll +finish in the theayter yep Tyke my tip, little Aida; you put every +penny into yer foundytions, yer'll get on the boards quicker that wy. + +MRS. L. Don' yu pay no 'eed to his talk. + +L. AIDA. I daon't. + +Ice. Would yer like a sip aht o' my mug? + +L. AIDA. [Brilliant] Yus. + +MRS. L. Not at yore age, me dear, though it is teetotal. + + [LITTLE AIDA puts her head on one side, like a dog trying to + understand.] + +LEMMY. Well, 'ave one o' my gum-drops. + + [Holds out a paper.] + + [LITTLE AIDA brilliant, takes a flat, dark substance from it, + and puts it in her mouth.] + +Give me a kiss, an' I'll give yer a penny. + + [LITTLE AIDA shakes her head, and leans out of window.] + +Movver, she daon't know the valyer of money. + +MRS. L. Never mind 'im, me dear. + +L. AIDA. [Sucking the gum-drop--with difficulty] There's a taxi-cab +at the corner. + + [LITTLE AIDA runs to the door. A figure stands in the doorway; + she skids round him and out. THE PRESS comes in.] + +LEMMY. [Dubiously] Wat-oh! + +PRESS. Mr. Lemmy? + +LEMMY. The syme. + +PRESS. I'm from the Press. + +LEMMY. Blimy. + +PRESS. They told me at your place you wens very likely here. + +LEMMY. Yus I left Downin' Street a bit early to-dy! [He twangs the +feddle-strings pompously.] + +PRESS. [Taking out his note-book and writing] "Fiddles while Rome +is burning!" Mr. Lemmy, it's my business at this very critical time +to find out what the nation's thinking. Now, as a representative +working man-- + +LEMMY. That's me. + +PRESS. You can help me. What are your views? + +LEMMY. [Putting down fiddle] Voos? Sit dahn! + + [THE PRESS sits on the stool which LEMMY has vacated.] + +The Press--my Muvver. Seventy-seven. She's a wonder; 'yn't yer, old +dear? + +PRESS. Very happy to make your acquaintance, Ma'am. [He writes] +"Mrs. Lemmy, one of the veterans of industry----" By the way, I've +jest passed a lot of people following a coffin. + + +LEMMY. Centre o' the cyclone--cyse o' starvytion; you 'ad 'er in the +pyper this mornin'. + +PRESS. Ah! yes! Tragic occurrence. [Looking at the trousers.] Hub +of the Sweated Industries just here. I especially want to get at the +heart---- + +MRS. L. 'Twasn't the 'eart, 'twas the stomach. + +PRESS. [Writing] "Mrs. Lemmy goes straight to the point." + +LEMMY. Mister, is it my voos or Muvver's yer want? + +PRESS. Both. + +LEMMY. 'Cos if yer get Muvver's, yer won't 'ave time for mine. I +tell yer stryte [Confidentially] she's get a glawss a' port wine in +'er. Naow, mind yer, I'm not anxious to be intervooed. On the other +'and, anyfink I might 'eve to sy of valyer----There is a clawss o' +politician that 'as nuffn to sy--Aoh! an' daon't 'e sy it just! I +dunno wot pyper yer represent. + +PRESS. [Smiling] Well, Mr. Lemmy, it has the biggest influ---- + +LEMMY. They all 'as that; dylies, weeklies, evenin's, Sundyes; but +it's of no consequence--my voos are open and aboveboard. Naow, wot +shall we begin abaht? + +PRESS. Yourself, if you please. And I'd like you to know at once +that my paper wants the human note, the real heart-beat of things. + +LEMMY. I see; sensytion! Well; 'ere am I--a fustclawss plumber's. +assistant--in a job to-dy an' out tomorrer. There's a 'eart-beat in +that, I tell yer. 'Oo knows wot the mower 'as for me! + +PRESS. [Writing]. "The great human issue--Mr. Lemmy touches it at +once." + +LEMMY. I sy keep my nyme aht o' this; I don' go in fer +self-advertisement. + +PRESS. [Writing] "True working-man--modest as usual." + +LEMMY. I daon't want to embarrass the Gover'ment. They're so +ticklish ever since they got the 'abit, war-time, o' mindin' wot +people said. + +PRESS. Right-o! + +LEMMY. For instance, suppose there's goin' to be a revolution---- +[THE PRESS writes with energy.] 'Ow does it touch me? Like this: I +my go up--I cawn't come dahn; no more can Muvver. + +MRS. L. [Surprisingly] Us all goes down into the grave. + +PRESS. "Mrs. Lemmy interjects the deeper note." + +LEMMY. Naow, the gryte--they can come dahn, but they cawn't go up! +See! Put two an' two together, an' that's 'ow it touches me. [He +utters a throaty laugh] 'Ave yer got that? + +PRESS. [Quizzical] Not go up? What about bombs, Mr. Lemmy? + +LEMMY. [Dubious] Wot abaht 'em? I s'pose ye're on the comic +pypers? 'Ave yer noticed wot a weakness they 'ave for the 'orrible? + +PRESS. [Writing] "A grim humour peeped out here and there through +the earnestness of his talk." + + [He sketches LEMMY'S profile.] + +LEMMY. We 'ad an explosion in my factory time o' the war, that would +just ha' done for you comics. [He meditates] Lord! They was after +it too,--they an' the Sundyes; but the Censor did 'em. Strike me, I +could tell yer things! + +PRESS. That's what I want, Mr. Lemmy; tell me things! + +LEMMY. [Musing] It's a funny world, 'yn't it? 'Ow we did blow each +other up! [Getting up to admire] I sy, I shall be syfe there. That +won't betry me anonymiety. Why! I looks like the Prime Minister! + +PRESS. [Rather hurt] You were going to tell me things. + +LEMMY. Yus, an' they'll be the troof, too. + +PRESS. I hope so; we don't---- + +LEMMY. Wot oh! + +PRESS. [A little confused.] We always try to verify---- + +LEMMY. Yer leave it at tryin', daon't yer? Never, mind, ye're a +gryte institootion. Blimy, yer do have jokes, wiv it, spinnin' rahnd +on yer own tyles, denyin' to-dy wot ye're goin' to print to-morrer. +Ah, well! Ye're like all of us below the line o' comfort--live +dyngerously--ever' dy yer last. That's wy I'm interested in the +future. + +PRESS. Well now--the future. [Writing] "He prophesies." + +LEMMY. It's syfer, 'yn't it? [He winks] No one never looks back on +prophecies. I remembers an editor spring o' 1916 stykin' his +reputytion the war'd be over in the follerin' October. Increased 'is +circulytion abaht 'arf a million by it. 1917 an' war still on--'ad +'is readers gone back on 'im? Nao! They was increasin' like +rabbits. Prophesy wot people want to believe, an' ye're syfe. Naow, +I'll styke my reputation on somethin', you tyke it dahn word for +word. This country's goin' to the dawgs--Naow, 'ere's the +sensytion--unless we gets a new religion. + +PRESS. Ah! Now for it--yes? + +LEMMY. In one word: "Kindness." Daon't mistyke me, nao sickly +sentiment and nao patronizin'. Me as kind to the millionaire as 'im +to me. [Fills his mug and drinks.] + +PRESS. [Struck] That's queer! Kindness! [Writing] "Extremes +meet. Bombed and bomber breathing the same music." + +LEMMY. But 'ere's the interestin' pynt. Can it be done wivaht +blood? + +PRESS. [Writing] "He doubts." + +LEMMY. No dabt wotever. It cawn't! Blood-and-kindness! Spill the +blood o' them that aren't kind--an' there ye are! + +PRESS. But pardon me, how are you to tell? + +LEMMY. Blimy, they leaps to the heye! + +PRESS. [Laying down-his note-book] I say, let me talk to you as man +to man for a moment. + +LEMMY. Orl right. Give it a rest! + +PRESS. Your sentiments are familiar to me. I've got a friend on the +Press who's very keen on Christ and kindness; and wants to strangle +the last king with the--hamstrings of the last priest. + +LEMMY. [Greatly intrigued] Not 'arf! Does 'e? + +PRESS. Yes. But have you thought it out? Because he hasn't. + +LEMMY. The difficulty is--where to stop. + +PRESS. Where to begin. + +LEMMY. Lawd! I could begin almost anywhere. Why, every month +abaht, there's a cove turns me aht of a job 'cos I daon't do just wot +'e likes. They'd 'ave to go. I tell yer stryte--the Temple wants +cleanin' up. + +PRESS. Ye-es. If I wrote what I thought, I should get the sack as +quick as you. D'you say that justifies me in shedding the blood of +my boss? + +LEMMY. The yaller Press 'as got no blood--'as it? You shed their +ile an' vinegar--that's wot you've got to do. Stryte--do yer believe +in the noble mission o' the Press? + +PRESS. [Enigmatically] Mr. Lemmy, I'm a Pressman. + +LEMMY. [Goggling] I see. Not much! [Gently jogging his mother's +elbow] Wyke up, old lydy! + + [For Mrs. LEMMY who has been sipping placidly at her port, is + nodding. The evening has drawn in. LEMMY strikes a match on + his trousers and lights a candle.] + +Blood an' kindness-that's what's wanted--'specially blood! The +'istory o' me an' my family'll show yer that. Tyke my bruver Fred +--crushed by burycrats. Tyke Muvver 'erself. Talk o' the wrongs o' +the people! I tell yer the foundytions is rotten. [He empties the +bottle into his mother's mug] Daon't mind the mud at the bottom, old +lydy--it's all strengthenin'! You tell the Press, Muvver. She can +talk abaht the pawst. + +PRESS. [Taking up his note-book, and becoming, again his +professional self] Yes, Mrs. Lemmy? "Age and Youth--Past and +Present--" + +MRS. L. Were yu talkin' about Fred? [The port has warmed her veins, +the colour in her eyes and cheeks has deepened] My son Fred was +always a gude boy--never did nothin' before 'e married. I can see +Fred [She bends forward a little in her chair, looking straight +before her] acomin' in wi' a pheasant 'e'd found--terrible 'e was at +findin' pheasants. When father died, an' yu was cumin', Bob, Fred 'e +said to me: "Don't yu never cry, Mother, I'll look after 'ee." An' +so 'e did, till 'e married that day six months an' take to the drink +in sower. 'E wasn't never 'the same boy again--not Fred. An' now +'e's in That. I can see poor Fred---- + + [She slowly wipes a tear out of the corner of an eye with the + back of her finger.] + +PRESS. [Puzzled] In--That? + +LEMMY. [Sotto voce] Come orf it! Prison! 'S wot she calls it. + +MRS. L. [Cheerful] They say life's a vale o' sorrows. Well, so +'tes, but don' du to let yureself thenk so. + +PRESS. And so you came to London, Mrs. Lemmy? + +MRS. L. Same year as father died. With the four o' them--that's my +son Fred, an' my son Jim, an' my son Tom, an' Alice. Bob there, 'e +was born in London--an' a praaper time I 'ad of et. + +PRESS. [Writing] "Her heroic struggles with poverty----" + +MRS. L. Worked in a laundry, I ded, at fifteen shellin's a week, an' +brought 'em all up on et till Alice 'ad the gallopin' consumption. I +can see poor Alice wi' the little red spots is 'er cheeks---an' I not +knowin' wot to du wi' 'her--but I always kept up their buryin' money. +Funerals is very dear; Mr. Lemmy was six pound, ten. + +PRESS. "High price of Mr. Lemmy." + +MRS. L. I've a-got the money for when my time come; never touch et, +no matter 'ow things are. Better a little goin' short here below, +an' enter the kingdom of 'eaven independent: + +PRESS. [Writing] "Death before dishonour--heroine of the slums. +Dickens--Betty Higden." + +MRS. L. No, sir. Mary Lemmy. I've seen a-many die, I 'ave; an' not +one grievin'. I often says to meself: [With a little laugh] "Me +dear, when yu go, yu go 'appy. Don' yu never fret about that," I +says. An' so I will; I'll go 'appy. + + [She stays quite still a moment, and behind her LEMMY draws one + finger across his face.] + +[Smiling] "Yore old fengers'll 'ave a rest. Think o' that!" I says. +"'Twill be a brave change." I can see myself lyin' there an' duin' +nothin'. + + [Again a pause, while MRS. LEMMY sees herself doing nothing.] + +LEMMY. Tell abaht Jim; old lydy. + +MRS. L. My son Jim 'ad a family o' seven in six years. "I don' know +'ow 'tes, Mother," 'e used to say to me; "they just sim to come!" +That was Jim--never knu from day to day what was cumin'. "Therr's +another of 'em dead," 'e used to say, "'tes funny, tu" "Well," I +used to say to 'im; "no wonder, poor little things, livin' in they +model dwellin's. Therr's no air for 'em," I used to say. "Well," 'e +used to say, "what can I du, Mother? Can't afford to live in Park +Lane:" An' 'e take an' went to Ameriky. [Her voice for the first +time is truly doleful] An' never came back. Fine feller. So that's +my four sons--One's dead, an' one's in--That, an' one's in Ameriky, +an' Bob 'ere, poor boy, 'e always was a talker. + + [LEMMY, who has re-seated himself in the window and taken up his + fiddle, twangs the strings.] + +PRESS. And now a few words about your work, Mrs. Lemmy? + +MRS. L. Well, I sews. + +PRESS. [Writing] "Sews." Yes? + +MRS. L. [Holding up her unfinished pair of trousers] I putt in the +button'oles, I stretches the flies, I lines the crutch, I putt on +this bindin', [She holds up the calico that binds the top] I sews on +the buttons, I press the seams--Tuppence three farthin's the pair. + +PRESS. Twopence three farthings a pair! Worse than a penny a line! + +MRS. L. In a gude day I gets thru four pairs, but they'm gettin' +plaguey 'ard for my old fengers. + +PRESS. [Writing] "A monumental figure, on whose labour is built the +mighty edifice of our industrialism." + +LEMMY. I sy--that's good. Yer'll keep that, won't yet? + +MRS. L. I finds me own cotton, tuppence three farthin's, and other +expension is a penny three farthin's. + +PRESS. And are you an exception, Mrs. Lemmy? + +MRS. L. What's that? + +LEMMY. Wot price the uvvers, old lydy? Is there a lot of yer sewin' +yer fingers orf at tuppence 'ypenny the pair? + +MRS. L. I can't tell yu that. I never sees nothin' in 'ere. I pays +a penny to that little gell to bring me a dozen pair an' fetch 'em +back. Poor little thing, she'm 'ardly strong enough to carry 'em. +Feel! They'm very 'eavy! + +PRESS. On the conscience of Society! + +LEMMY. I sy put that dahn, won't yer? + +PRESS. Have things changed much since the war, Mrs. Lemmy? + +MRS. L. Cotton's a lot dearer. + +PRESS. All round, I mean. + +MRS. L. Aw! Yu don' never get no change, not in my profession. +[She oscillates the trousers] I've a-been in trousers fifteen year; +ever since I got to old for laundry. + +PRESS. [Writing] "For fifteen years sewn trousers." What would a +good week be, Mrs. Lemmy? + +MRS. L. 'Tes a very gude week, five shellin's. + +LEMMY. [From the window] Bloomin' millionairess, Muvver. She's +lookin' forward to 'eaven, where vey don't wear no trahsers. + +MRS. L. [With spirit] 'Tidn for me to zay whether they du. An' +'tes on'y when I'm a bit low-sperrity-like as I wants to go therr. +What I am a-lukin' forward to, though, 'tes a day in the country. +I've not a-had one since before the war. A kind lady brought me in +that bit of 'eather; 'tes wonderful sweet stuff when the 'oney's in +et. When I was a little gell I used to zet in the 'eather gatherin' +the whorts, an' me little mouth all black wi' eatin' them. 'Twas in +the 'eather I used to zet, Sundays, courtin'. All flesh is grass-- +an' 'tesn't no bad thing--grass. + +PRESS. [Writing] "The old paganism of the country." What is your +view of life, Mrs. Lemmy? + +LEMMY. [Suddenly] Wot is 'er voo of life? Shall I tell yer mine? +Life's a disease--a blinkin' oak-apple! Daon't myke no mistyke. An' +'umen life's a yumourous disease; that's all the difference. Why-- +wot else can it be? See the bloomin' promise an' the blighted +performance--different as a 'eadline to the noos inside. But yer +couldn't myke Muvver see vat--not if yer talked to 'er for a wok. +Muvver still believes in fings. She's a country gell; at a 'undred +and fifty she'll be a country gell, won't yer, old lydy? + +MRS. L. Well, 'tesn't never been 'ome to me in London. I lived in +the country forty year--I did my lovin' there; I burried father +therr. Therr bain't nothin' in life, yu know, but a bit o' lovin'-- +all said an' done; bit o' lovin', with the wind, an' the stars out. + +LEMMY. [In a loud apologetic whisper] She 'yn't often like this. I +told yer she'd got a glawss o' port in 'er. + +MRS. L. 'Tes a brave pleasure, is lovin'. I likes to zee et in +young folk. I likes to zee 'em kissin'; shows the 'eart in 'em. +'Tes the 'eart makes the world go round; 'tesn't nothin' else, in my +opinion. + +PRESS. [Writing] "--sings the swan song of the heart."---- + +MRS. L. [Overhearing] No, I never yeard a swan sing--never! But I +tell 'ee what I 'eve 'eard; the Bells singin' in th' orchard 'angin' +up the clothes to dry, an' the cuckoos callin' back to 'em. +[Smiling] There's a-many songs in the country-the 'eart is freelike +in th' country! + +LEMMY. [Soto voce] Gi' me the Strand at ar' past nine. + +PRESS. [Writing] "Town and country----" + +MRS. L. 'Tidn't like that in London; one day's jest like another. +Not but what therr's a 'eap o' kind'eartedness 'ere. + +LEMMY. [Gloomily] Kind-'eartedness! I daon't fink "Boys an' Gells +come out to play." + + [He plays the old tune on his fiddle.] + +MRS. L. [Singing] "Boys an' Gells come out to play. The mune is +shinin' bright as day." [She laughs] I used to sing like a lark +when I was a gell. + + [LITTLE AIDA enters.] + +L. AIDA. There's 'undreds follerin' the corfin. 'Yn't you goin', +Mr. Lemmy--it's dahn your wy! + +LEMMY. [Dubiously] Well yus--I s'pose they'll miss me. + +L. AIDA. Aoh! Tyke me! + +PRESS. What's this? + +LEMMY. The revolution in 'Yde Pawk. + +PRESS. [Struck] In Hyde Park? The very thing. I'll take you down. +My taxi's waiting. + +L. AIDA. Yus; it's breathin' 'ard, at the corner. + +PRESS. [Looking at his watch] Ah! and Mrs. Lemmy. There's an +Anti-Sweating Meeting going on at a house in Park Lane. We can get +there in twenty minutes if we shove along. I want you to tell them +about the trouser-making. You'll be a sensation! + +LEMMY. [To himself] Sensytion! 'E cawn't keep orf it! + +MRS. L. Anti-Sweat. Poor fellers! I 'ad one come to see we before +the war, an' they'm still goin' on? Wonderful, an't it? + +PRESS. Come, Mrs. Lemmy; drive in a taxi, beautiful moonlit night; +and they'll give you a splendid cup of tea. + +MRS. L. [Unmoved] Ah! I cudn't never du without my tea. There's +not an avenin' but I thinks to meself: Now, me dear, yu've a-got one +more to fennish, an' then yu'll 'eve yore cup o' tea. Thank you for +callin', all the same. + +LEMMY. Better siccumb to the temptytion, old lydy; joyride wiv the +Press; marble floors, pillars o' gold; conscientious footmen; lovely +lydies; scuppers runnin' tea! An' the revolution goin' on across the +wy. 'Eaven's nuffink to Pawk Lyne. + +PRESS. Come along, Mrs. Lemmy! + +MRS. L. [Seraphically] Thank yu,--I'm a-feelin' very comfortable. +'Tes wonderful what a drop o' wine'll du for the stomach. + +PRESS. A taxi-ride! + +MRS. L. [Placidly] Ah! I know'em. They'm very busy things. + +LEMMY. Muvver shuns notority. [Sotto voce to THE PRESS] But you +watch me! I'll rouse 'er. + + [He takes up his fiddle and sits on the window seat. Above the + little houses on the opposite side of the street, the moon has + risen in the dark blue sky, so that the cloud shaped like a + beast seems leaping over it. LEMMY plays the first notes of the + Marseillaise. A black cat on the window-sill outside looks in, + hunching its back. LITTLE AIDA barks at her. MRS. LEMMY + struggles to her feet, sweeping the empty dish and spoon to the + floor in the effort.] + +The dish ran awy wiv the spoon! That's right, old lydy! [He stops +playing.] + +MRS. L. [Smiling, and moving her hands] I like a bit o' music. It +du that move 'ee. + +PRESS. Bravo, Mrs. Lemmy. Come on! + +LEMMY. Come on, old dear! We'll be in time for the revolution yet. + +MRS. L. 'Tes 'earin' the Old 'Undred again! + +LEMMY. [To THE PRESS] She 'yn't been aht these two years. [To his +mother, who has put up her hands to her head] Nao, never mind yer +'at. [To THE PRESS] She 'yn't got none! [Aloud] No West-End lydy +wears anyfink at all in the evenin'! + +MRS. L. 'Ow'm I lukin', Bob? + +LEMMY. First-clawss; yer've got a colour fit to toast by. We'll +show 'em yer've got a kick in yer. [He takes her arm] Little Aida, +ketch 'old o' the sensytions. + + [He indicates the trousers THE PRESS takes MRS. LEMMY'S other + arm.] + +MRS. L. [With an excited little laugh] Quite like a gell! + +And, smiling between her son and THE PRESS, she passes out; LITTLE +AIDA, with a fling of her heels and a wave of the trousers, follows. + + + CURTAIN + + + +ACT III + + An octagon ante-room of the hall at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S. + A shining room lighted by gold candelabra, with gold-curtained + pillars, through which the shining hall and a little of the + grand stairway are visible. A small table with a gold-coloured + cloth occupies the very centre of the room, which has a polished + parquet floor and high white walls. Gold-coloured doors on the + left. Opposite these doors a window with gold-coloured curtains + looks out on Park Lane. LADY WILLIAM standing restlessly + between the double doors and the arch which leads to the hall. + JAMES is stationary by the double doors, from behind which come + sounds of speech and applause. + +POULDER. [Entering from the hall] His Grace the Duke of Exeter, my +lady. + + [His GRACE enters. He is old, and youthful, with a high colour + and a short rough white beard. LADY WILLIAM advances to meet + him. POULDER stands by.] + +LADY W. Oh! Father, you ARE late. + +HIS G. Awful crowd in the streets, Nell. They've got a coffin-- +couldn't get by. + +LADY W. Coin? Whose? + +HIS G. The Government's I should think-no flowers, by request. I +say, have I got to speak? + +LADY W. Oh! no, dear. + +HIS G. H'm! That's unlucky. I've got it here. [He looks down his +cuff] Found something I said in 1914--just have done. + +LADY W. Oh! If you've got it--James, ask Lord William to come to me +for a moment. [JAMES vanishes through the door. To THE DUKE] Go in, +Grand-dad; they'll be so awfully pleased to see you. I'll tell Bill. + +HIS G. Where's Anne? + +LADY W. In bed, of course. + +HIS G. I got her this--rather nice? + + [He has taken from his breast-pocket one of those street toy-men + that jump head over heels on your hand; he puts it through its + paces.] + +LADY W. [Much interested] Oh! no, but how sweet! She'll simply +love it. + +POULDER. If I might suggest to Your Grace to take it in and operate +it. It's sweated, Your Grace. They-er-make them in those places. + +HIS G. By Jove! D'you know the price, Poulder? + +POULDER. [Interrogatively] A penny, is it? Something paltry, Your +Grace! + +HIS G. Where's that woman who knows everything; Miss Munday? + +LADY W. Oh! She'll be in there, somewhere. + + [His GRACE moves on, and passes through the doors. The sound of + applause is heard.] + +POULDER. [Discreetly] would you care to see the bomb, my lady? + +LADY W. Of course--first quiet moment. + +POULDER. I'll bring it up, and have a watch put on it here, my lady. + + [LORD WILLIAM comes through the double doom followed by JAMES. + POULDER retires.] + +LORD W. Can't you come, Nell? + +LADY W. Oh! Bill, your Dad wants to speak. + +LORD W. The deuce he does--that's bad. + +LADY W. Yes, of course, but you must let him; he's found something +he said in 1914. + +LORD W. I knew it. That's what they'll say. Standing stock still, +while hell's on the jump around us. + +LADY W. Never mind that; it'll please him; and he's got a lovely +little sweated toy that turns head over heels at one penny. + +LORD W. H'm! Well, come on. + +LADY W. No, I must wait for stragglers. There's sure to be an +editor in a hurry. + +POULDER. [Announcing] Mis-ter Gold-rum! + +LADY W. [Sotto voce] And there he is! [She advances to meet a thin, +straggling man in eyeglasses, who is smiling absently] How good of +you! + +MR. G. Thanks awfully. I just er--and then I'm afraid I must--er-- +Things look very----Thanks----Thanks so much. + + [He straggles through the doors, and is enclosed by JAMES.] + +POULDER. Miss Mun-day. + +LORD W. There! I thought she was in--She really is the most +unexpected woman! How do you do? How awfully sweet of you! + +MISS M. [An elderly female schoolboy] How do you do? There's a +spiffing crowd. I believe things are really going Bolshy. How do +you do, Lord William? Have you got any of our people to show? I +told one or two, in case--they do so simply love an outing. + +JAMES. There are three old chips in the lobby, my Lord. + +LORD W. What? Oh! I say! Bring them in at once. Why--they're the +hub of the whole thing. + +JAMES. [Going] Very good, my Lord. + +LADY W. I am sorry. I'd no notion; and they're such dears always. + +MISS M. I must tell you what one of them said to me. I'd told him +not to use such bad language to his wife. "Don't you worry, Ma!" he +said, "I expert you can do a bit of that yourself!" + +LADY W. How awfully nice! It's SO like them. + +MISS M. Yes. They're wonderful. + +LORD W. I say, why do we always call them they? + +LADY W. [Puzzled] Well, why not? + +LORD W. THEY! + +MISS M. [Struck] Quite right, Lord William! Quite right! Another +species. They! I must remember that. THEY! [She passes on.] + +LADY W. [About to follow] Well, I don't see; aren't they? + +LORD W. Never mind, old girl; follow on. They'll come in with me. + + [MISS MUNDAY and LADY WILLIAM pass through the double doors.] + +POULDER. [Announcing] Some sweated workers, my Lord. + + [There enter a tall, thin, oldish woman; a short, thin, very + lame man, her husband; and a stoutish middle-aged woman with a + rolling eye and gait, all very poorly dressed, with lined and + heated faces.] + +LORD W. [Shaking hands] How d'you do! Delighted to see you all. +It's awfully good of you to have come. + +LAME M. Mr. and Mrs. Tomson. We 'ad some trouble to find it. You +see, I've never been in these parts. We 'ad to come in the oven; and +the bus-bloke put us dahn wrong. Are you the proprietor? + +LORD W. [Modestly] Yes, I--er-- + +LAME M. You've got a nice plyce. I says to the missis, I says: +"'E's got a nice plyce 'ere," I says; "there's room to turn rahnd." + +LORD W. Yes--shall we--? + +LAME M. An' Mrs. Annaway she says: "Shouldn't mind livin 'ere +meself," she says; "but it must cost'im a tidy penny," she says. + +LORD W. It does--it does; much too tidy. Shall we--? + +MRS. ANN. [Rolling her eye] I'm very pleased to 'ave come. I've +often said to 'em: "Any time you want me," I've said, "I'd be pleased +to come." + +LORD W. Not so pleased as we are to see you. + +MRS. ANN. I'm sure you're very kind. + +JAMES. [From the double doors, through which he has received a +message] Wanted for your speech, my Lord. + +LORD W. Oh! God! Poulder, bring these ladies and gentleman in, and +put them where everybody can--where they can see everybody, don't you +know. + + [He goes out hurriedly through the double doors.] + +LAME M. Is 'e a lord? + +POULDER. He is. Follow me. + + [He moves towards the doors, the three workers follow.] + +MRS. ANN. [Stopping before JAMES] You 'yn't one, I suppose? +[JAMES stirs no muscle.] + +POULDER. Now please. [He opens the doors. The Voice of LORD +WILLIAM speaking is heard] Pass in. + + [THE THREE WORKERS pass in, POULDER and JAMES follow them. The + doors are not closed, and through this aperture comes the voice + of LORD WILLIAM, punctuated and supported by decorous applause.] + + [LITTLE ANNE runs in, and listens at the window to the confused + and distant murmurs of a crowd.] + +VOICE OF LORD W. We propose to move for a further advance in the +chain-making and--er--er--match-box industries. [Applause.] + + [LITTLE ANNE runs across to the door, to listen.] + +[On rising voice] I would conclude with some general remarks. +Ladies and gentlemen, the great natural, but--er--artificial +expansion which trade experienced the first years after the war has-- +er--collapsed. These are hard times. We who are fortunate feel more +than ever--er--responsible--[He stammers, loses the thread of his +thoughts.]--[Applause]--er--responsible--[The thread still eludes +him]--er---- + +L. ANNE. [Poignantly] Oh, Daddy! + +LORD W. [Desperately] In fact--er--you know how--er--responsible we +feel. + +L. ANNE. Hooray! [Applause.] + + [There float in through the windows the hoarse and distant + sounds of the Marseillaise, as sung by London voices.] + +LORD W. There is a feeling in the air--that I for one should say +deliberately was--er--a feeling in the air--er--a feeling in the +air---- + +L. ANNE. [Agonised] Oh, Daddy! Stop! + + [Jane enters, and closes the door behind him. JAMES. Look + here! 'Ave I got to report you to Miss Stokes?] + +L. ANNE. No-o-o! + +JAMES. Well, I'm goin' to. + +L. ANNE. Oh, James, be a friend to me! I've seen nothing yet. + +JAMES. No; but you've eaten a good bit, on the stairs. What price +that Peach Melba? + +L. ANNE. I can't go to bed till I've digested it can I? There's +such a lovely crowd in the street! + +JAMES. Lovely? Ho! + +L. ANNE. [Wheedling] James, you couldn't tell Miss Stokes! It +isn't in you, is it? + +JAMES. [Grinning] That's right. + +L. ANNE. So-I'll just get under here. [She gets under the table] +Do I show? + +JAMES. [Stooping] Not 'arf! + + [POULDER enters from the hall.] + +POULDER. What are you doin' there? + +JAMES. [Between him and the table--raising himself] Thinkin'. + + [POULDER purses his mouth to repress his feedings.] + +POULDER. My orders are to fetch the bomb up here for Lady William to +inspect. Take care no more writers stray in. + +JAMES. How shall I know 'em? + +POULDER. Well--either very bald or very hairy. + +JAMES. Right-o! [He goes.] + + [POULDER, with his back to the table, busies himself with the + set of his collar.] + +POULDER. [Addressing an imaginary audience--in a low but important +voice] The--ah--situation is seerious. It is up to us of the--ah-- +leisured classes---- + + [The face of LITTLE ANNE is poked out close to his legs, and + tilts upwards in wonder towards the bow of his waistcoat.] + +to--ah--keep the people down. The olla polloi are clamourin'---- + + [Miss STOKES appears from the hall, between the pillars.] + +Miss S. Poulder! + +POULDER. [Making a volte face towards the table] Miss? + +MISS S. Where is Anne? + +POULDER. [Vexed at the disturbance of his speech] Excuse me, Miss-- +to keep track of Miss Anne is fortunately no part of my dooties. + + [Miss S. She really is naughty.] + +POULDER. She is. If she was mine, I'd spank her. + + [The smiling face of LITTLE ANNE becomes visible again close to + his legs.] + +MISS S. Not a nice word. + +POULDER. No; but a pleasant haction. Miss Anne's the limit. In +fact, Lord and Lady William are much too kind 'earted all round. +Take these sweated workers; that class o' people are quite 'opeless. +Treatin' them as your equals, shakin 'ands with 'em, givin 'em tea-- +it only puffs 'em out. Leave it to the Church, I say. + +MISS S. The Church is too busy, Poulder. + +POULDER. Ah! That "Purity an' Future o' the Race Campaign." I'll +tell you what I thinks the danger o' that, Miss. So much purity that +there won't be a future race. [Expanding] Purity of 'eart's an +excellent thing, no doubt, but there's a want of nature about it. +Same with this Anti-Sweating. Unless you're anxious to come down, +you must not put the lower classes up. + +MISS S. I don't agree with you at all, Poulder. + +POULDER. Ah! You want it both ways, Miss. I should imagine you're +a Liberal. + +MISS S. [Horrified] Oh, no! I certainly am not. + +POULDER. Well, I judged from your takin' cocoa. Funny thing that, +about cocoa-how it still runs through the Liberal Party! It's +virtuous, I suppose. Wine, beer, tea, coffee-all of 'em vices. But +cocoa you might drink a gallon a day and annoy no one but yourself! +There's a lot o' deep things in life, Miss! + +Miss S. Quite so. But I must find Anne. + + [She recedes. ] + +POULDER. [Suavely] Well, I wish you every success; and I hope +you'll spank her. This modern education--there's no fruitiness in +it. + +L. ANNE. [From under the table] Poulder, are you virtuous? + +POULDER. [Jumping] Good Ged! + +L. ANNE. D'you mind my asking? I promised James I would. + +POULDER. Miss Anne, come out! + + [The four footmen appear in the hall, HENRY carrying the wine + cooler.] + +JAMES. Form fours-by your right-quick march! + + [They enter, marching down right of table.] + +Right incline--Mark time! Left turn! 'Alt! 'Enry, set the bomb! +Stand easy! + + [HENRY places the wine cooler on the table and covers it with a + blue embroidered Chinese mat, which has occupied the centre of + the tablecloth.] + +POULDER. Ah! You will 'ave your game! Thomas, take the door there! +James, the 'all! Admit titles an' bishops. No literary or Labour +people. Charles and 'Enry, 'op it and 'ang about! + + [CHARLES and HENRY go out, the other too move to their + stations.] + + [POULDER, stands by the table looking at the covered bomb. The + hoarse and distant sounds of the Marseillaise float in again + from Park Lane.] + +[Moved by some deep feeling] And this house an 'orspital in the war! +I ask you--what was the good of all our sacrifices for the country? +No town 'ouse for four seasons--rustygettin' in the shires, not a +soul but two boys under me. Lord William at the front, Lady William +at the back. And all for this! [He points sadly at the cooler] It +comes of meddlin' on the Continent. I had my prognostications at the +time. [To JAMES] You remember my sayin' to you just before you +joined up: "Mark my words--we shall see eight per cent. for our money +before this is over!" + +JAMES. [Sepulchrally] I see the eight per cent., but not the money. + +POULDER. Hark at that! + + [The sounds of the Marseillaise grow louder. He shakes his + head.] + +I'd read the Riot Act. They'll be lootin' this house next! + +JAMES. We'll put up a fight over your body: "Bartholomew Poulder, +faithful unto death!" Have you insured your life? + +POULDER. Against a revolution? + +JAMES. Act o' God! Why not? + +POULDER. It's not an act o' God. + +JAMES. It is; and I sympathise with it. + +POULDER. You--what? + +JAMES. I do--only--hands off the gov'nor. + +POULDER. Oh! Really! Well, that's something. I'm glad to see you +stand behind him, at all events. + +JAMES. I stand in front of 'im when the scrap begins! + +POULDER. Do you insinuate that my heart's not in the right place? + +JAMES. Well, look at it! It's been creepin' down ever since I knew +you. Talk of your sacrifices in the war--they put you on your +honour, and you got stout on it. Rations--not 'arf. + +POULDER. [Staring at him] For independence, I've never seen your +equal, James. You might be an Australian. + +JAMES. [Suavely] Keep a civil tongue, or I'll throw you to the +crowd! [He comes forward to the table] Shall I tell you why I +favour the gov'nor? Because, with all his pomp, he's a gentleman, as +much as I am. Never asks you to do what he wouldn't do himself. +What's more, he never comes it over you. If you get drunk, or--well, +you understand me, Poulder--he'll just say: "Yes, yes; I know, +James!" till he makes you feel he's done it himself. [Sinking his +voice mysteriously] I've had experience with him, in the war and out. +Why he didn't even hate the Huns, not as he ought. I tell you he's +no Christian. + +POULDER. Well, for irreverence----! + +JAMES. [Obstinately] And he'll never be. He's got too soft a +heart. + +L. ANNE. [Beneath the table-shrilly] Hurrah! + +POULDER. [Jumping] Come out, Miss Anne! + +JAMES. Let 'er alone! + +POULDER. In there, under the bomb? + +JAMES. [Contemptuously] Silly ass! You should take 'em lying down! + +POULDER. Look here, James! I can't go on in this revolutionary +spirit; either you or I resign. + +JAMES. Crisis in the Cabinet! + +POULDER. I give you your marchin' orders. + +JAMES. [Ineffably] What's that you give me? + +POULDER. Thomas, remove James! + + [THOMAS grins.] + +L. ANNE. [Who, with open mouth, has crept out to see the fun] Oh! +Do remove James, Thomas! + +POULDER. Go on, Thomas. + + [THOMAS takes one step towards JAMES, who lays a hand on the + Chinese mat covering the bomb.] + +JAMES. [Grimly] If I lose control of meself. + +L. ANNE. [Clapping her hands] Oh! James! Do lose control! Then I +shall see it go off! + +JAMES. [To POULDER] Well, I'll merely empty the pail over you! + +POULDER. This is not becomin'! + + [He walks out into the hall.] + +JAMES. Another strategic victory! What a Boche he'd have made. As +you were, Tommy! + + [THOMAS returns to the door. The sound of prolonged applause + cornea from within.] + +That's a bishop. + +L. ANNE. Why? + +JAMES. By the way he's drawin'. It's the fine fightin' spirit in +'em. They were the backbone o' the war. I see there's a bit o' the +old stuff left in you, Tommy. + +L. ANNE. [Scrutinizing the widely--grinning THOM] Where? Is it in +his mouth? + +JAMES. You've still got a sense of your superiors. Didn't you +notice how you moved to Poulder's orders, me boy; an' when he was +gone, to mine? + +L. ANNE. [To THOMAS] March! + + [The grinning THOMAS remains immovable.] + +He doesn't, James! + +JAMES. Look here, Miss Anne--your lights ought to be out before ten. +Close in, Tommy! + + [He and THOMAS move towards her.] + +L. ANNE. [Dodging] Oh, no! Oh, no! Look! + + [The footmen stop and turn. There between the pillars, stands + LITTLE AIDA with the trousers, her face brilliant With + surprise.] + +JAMES. Good Lord! What's this? + + [Seeing L. ANNE, LITTLE AIDA approaches, fascinated, and the two + children sniff at each other as it were like two little dogs + walking round and round.] + +L. ANNE. [Suddenly] My name's Anne; what's yours? + +L. AIDA. Aida. + +L. ANNE. Are you lost? + +L. AIDA. Nao. + +L. ANNE. Are those trousers? + +L. AIDA. Yus. + +L. Arms. Whose? + +L. AIDA. Mrs. Lemmy's. + +L. ANNE. Does she wear them? + + [LITTLE AIDA smiles brilliantly.] + +L. AIDA. Nao. She sews 'em. + +L. ANNE. [Touching the trousers] They are hard. James's are much +softer; aren't they, James? [JAMES deigns no reply] What shall we +do? Would you like to see my bedroom? + +L. AIDA. [With a hop] Aoh, yus! + +JAMES. No. + +L. ANNE. Why not? + +JAMES. Have some sense of what's fittin'. + +L. ANNE. Why isn't it fittin'? [To LITTLE AIDA] Do you like me? + +L. AIDA. Yus-s. + +L. ANNE. So do I. Come on! + + [She takes LITTLE AIDA'S hand.] + +JAMES. [Between the pillars] Tommy, ketch 'em! + + [THOMAS retains them by the skirts.] + +L. ANNE. [Feigning indifference] All right, then! [To LITTLE AIDA] +Have you ever seen a bomb? + +L. AIDA. Nao. + +L. ANNE. [Going to the table and lifting a corner of the cover] +Look! + +L. AIDA. [Looking] What's it for? + +L. ANNE. To blow up this house. + +L. AIDA. I daon't fink! + +L. ANNE. Why not? + +L. AIDA. It's a beautiful big 'Ouse. + +L. ANNE. That's why. Isn't it, James? + +L. AIDA. You give the fing to me; I'll blow up our 'ouse--it's an +ugly little 'ouse. + +L. ANNE [Struck] Let's all blow up our own; then we can start fair. +Daddy would like that. + +L. AIDA. Yus. [Suddenly brilliant] I've 'ad a ride in a taxi, an' +we're goin' 'ome in it agyne! + +L. ANNE. Were you sick? + +LITTLE AIDA. [Brilliant] Nao. + +L. ANNE I was; when I first went in one, but I was quite young then. +James, could you get her a Peche Melba? There was one. + +JAMES. No. + +L. ANNE. Have you seen the revolution? + +L. AIDA. Wot's that? + +L. ANNE. It's made of people. + +L. AIDA. I've seen the corfin, it's myde o' wood. + +L. ANNE. Do you hate the rich? + +L. AIDA. [Ineffably] Nao. I hates the poor. + +L. ANNE. Why? + +L. AIDA. 'Cos they 'yn't got nuffin'. + +L. ANNE. I love the poor. They're such dears. + +L. AIDA. [Shaking her head with a broad smile] Nao. + +L. ANNE. Why not? + +L. AIDA. I'd tyke and lose the lot, I would. + +L. ANNE. Where? + +L. AIDA. In the water. + +L. ANNE. Like puppies? + +L. AIDA. Yus. + +L. ANNE. Why? + +L. AIDA. Then I'd be shut of 'em. + +L. ANNE. [Puzzled] Oh! + + [The voice of THE PRESS is heard in the hall. "Where's the + little girl?"] + +JAMES. That's you. Come 'ere! + + [He puts a hand behind LITTLE AIDA'S back and propels her + towards the hall. THE PRESS enters with old MRS. LEMMY.] + +PRESS. Oh! Here she is, major domo. I'm going to take this old +lady to the meeting; they want her on the platform. Look after our +friend, Mr. Lemmy here; Lord William wants to see him presently. + +L. ANNE. [In an awed whisper] James, it's the little blighter! + + [She dives again under the table. LEMMY enters.] + +LEMMY. 'Ere! 'Arf a mo'! Yer said yer'd drop me at my plyce. +Well, I tell yer candid--this 'yn't my plyce. + +PRESS. That's all right, Mr. Lemmy. [He grins] They'll make you +wonderfully comfortable, won't you, major domo? + + [He passes on through the room, to the door, ushering old MRS. + LEMMY and LITTLE AIDA.] + + [POULDER blocks LEMMY'S way, with CHARLES and HENRY behind him.] + +POULDER. James, watch it; I'll report. + + [He moves away, following THE PRESS through the door. JAMES + between table and window. THOMAS has gone to the door. HENRY + and CHARLES remain at the entrances to the hall. LEMMY looks + dubiously around, his cockney assurrance gradually returns.] + +LEMMY. I think I knows the gas 'ere. This is where I came to-dy, +'yn't it? Excuse my hesitytion--these little 'ouses IS so much the +syme. + +JAMES. [Gloomily] They are! + +LEMMY. [Looking at the four immovable footmen, till he concentrates +on JAMES] Ah! I 'ad a word wiv you, 'adn't I? You're the four +conscientious ones wot's wyin' on your gov'nor's chest. 'Twas you I +spoke to, wasn't it? [His eyes travel over them again] Ye're so +monotonous. Well, ye're busy now, I see. I won't wyste yer time. + + [He turns towards the hall, but CHARLES and HENRY bar the way in + silence.] + + [Skidding a little, and regarding the four immovables once more] + +I never see such pytient men? Compared wiv yer, mountains is +restless. + + [He goes to the table. JAMES watches him. ANNE barks from + underneath.] + +[Skidding again] Why! There's a dawg under there. [Noting the grin +on THOMAS'S face] Glad it amooses yer. Yer want it, daon't yer, wiv +a fyce like that? Is this a ply wivaht words? 'Ave I got into the +movies by mistyke? Turn aht, an' let's 'ave six penn'orth o' +darkness. + +L. ANNE. [From beneath the cable] No, no! Not dark! + +LEMMY. [Musingly] The dawg talks anywy. Come aht, Fido! + + [LITTLE ANNE emerges, and regards him with burning curiosity.] + +I sy: Is this the lytest fashion o' receivin' guests? + +L. ANNE. Mother always wants people to feel at home. What shall we +do? Would you like to hear the speeches? Thomas, open the door a +little, do! + +JAMES. 'Umour 'er a couple o' inches, Tommy! + + [THOMAS draws the door back stealthily an inch or so.] + +L. ANNE. [After applying her eye-in a loud whisper] There's the old +lady. Daddy's looking at her trousers. Listen! + + [For MRS. LEMMY'S voice is floating faintly through: "I putt in + the buttonholes, I stretches the flies; I 'ems the bottoms; I + lines the crutch; I putt on this bindin'; I sews on the buttons; + I presses the seams--Tuppence three farthin's the pair."] + +LEMMY. [In a hoarse whisper] That's it, old lydy: give it 'em! + +L. ANNE. Listen! + +VOICE OF LORD W. We are indebted to our friends the Press for giving +us the pleasure--er--pleasure of hearing from her own lips--the +pleasure---- + +L. ANNE. Oh! Daddy! + + [THOMAS abruptly closes the doors.] + +LEMMY. [To ANNE] Now yer've done it. See wot comes o' bein' +impytient. We was just gettin' to the marrer. + +L. ANNE. What can we do for you now? + +LEMMY. [Pointing to ANNE, and addressing JAMES] Wot is this one, +anywy? + +JAMES. [Sepulchrally] Daughter o' the house. + +LEMMY. Is she insured agynst 'er own curiosity? + +L. ANNE. Why? + +LEMMY. As I daon't believe in a life beyond the gryve, I might be +tempted to send yer there. + +L. ANNE. What is the gryve? + +LEMMY. Where little gells goes to. + +L. ANNE. Oh, when? + +LEMMY. [Pretending to look at a match, which is not there] Well, I +dunno if I've got time to finish yer this minute. Sy to-mower at. +'arf past. + +L. ANNE. Half past what? + +LEMMY. [Despairingly] 'Arf past wot! + + [The sound of applause is heard.] + +JAMES. That's 'is Grace. 'E's gettin' wickets, too. + + [POULDER entering from the door.] + +POULDER. Lord William is slippin' in. + + [He makes a cabalistic sign with his head. Jeers crosses to the + door. LEMMY looks dubiously at POULDER.] + +LEMMY. [Suddenly--as to himself] Wot oh! I am the portly one! + +POULDER. [Severely] Any such allusion aggeravates your offence. + +LEMMY. Oh, ah! Look 'ere, it was a corked bottle. Now, tyke care, +tyke care, 'aughty! Daon't curl yer lip! I shall myke a clean +breast o' my betryal when the time comes! + + [There is a alight movement of the door. ANNE makes a dive + towards the table but is arrested by POULDER grasping her + waistband. LORD WILLIAM slips in, followed by THE PRESS, on + whom JAMES and THOMAS close the door too soon.] + +HALF OF THE PRESS. [Indignantly] Look out! + +JAMES. Do you want him in or out, me Lord? + +LEMMY. I sy, you've divided the Press; 'e was unanimous. + + [The FOOTMEN let THE PRESS through.] + +LORD W. [To THE PRESS] I'm so sorry. + +LEMMY. Would yer like me to see to 'is gas? + +LORD W. So you're my friend of the cellars? + +LEMMY. [Uneasy] I daon't deny it. + + [POULDER begins removing LITTLE ANNE.] + +L. ANNE. Let me stay, Daddy; I haven't seen anything yet! If I go, +I shall only have to come down again when they loot the house. +Listen! + + [The hoarse strains of the Marseillaise are again heard from the + distance.] + +LORD W. [Blandly] Take her up, Poulder! + +L. ANNE. Well, I'm coming down again--and next time I shan't have +any clothes on, you know. + + [They vanish between the pillars. LORD WILLIAM makes a sign of + dismissal. The FOOTMAN file out.] + +LEMMY. [Admiringly] Luv'ly pyces! + +LORD W. [Pleasantly] Now then; let's have our talk, Mr.---- + +LEMMY. Lemmy. + +PRESS. [Who has slipped his note-book out] "Bombed and Bomber face +to face----" + +LEMMY. [Uneasy] I didn't come 'ere agyne on me own, yer know. The +Press betryed me. + +LORD W. Is that old lady your mother? + +LEMMY. The syme. I tell yer stryte, it was for 'er I took that old +bottle o' port. It was orful old. + +LORD W. Ah! Port? Probably the '83. Hope you both enjoyed it. + +LEMMY. So far-yus. Muvver'll suffer a bit tomower, I expect. + +LORD W. I should like to do something for your mother, if you'll +allow me. + +LEMMY. Oh! I'll allow yer. But I dunno wot she'll sy. + +LORD W. I can see she's a fine independent old lady! But suppose +you were to pay her ten bob a week, and keep my name out of it? + +LEMMY. Well, that's one wy o' YOU doin' somefink, 'yn't it? + +LORD W. I giving you the money, of course. + +PRESS. [Writing] "Lord William, with kingly generosity----" + +LEMMY. [Drawing attention to THE PRESS with his thumb] I sy-- +I daon't mind, meself--if you daon't---- + +LORD W. He won't write anything to annoy me. + +PRESS. This is the big thing, Lord William; it'll get the public +bang in the throat. + +LEMMY. [Confidentially] Bit dyngerous, 'yn't it? trustin' the +Press? Their right 'ands never knows wot their left 'ands is +writin'. [To THE PRESS] 'Yn't that true, speakin' as a man? + +PRESS. Mr. Lemmy, even the Press is capable of gratitude. + +LEMMY. Is it? I should ha' thought it was too important for a +little thing like that. [To LORD WILLIAM] But ye're quite right; we +couldn't do wivaht the Press--there wouldn't be no distress, no +coffin, no revolution--'cos nobody'd know nuffin' abaht it. Why! +There wouldn't be no life at all on Earf in these dyes, wivaht the +Press! It's them wot says: "Let there be Light--an' there is Light." + +LORD W. Umm! That's rather a new thought to me. [Writes on his +cuff.] + +LEMMY. But abaht Muvver, I'll tell yer 'ow we can arrynge. You send +'er the ten bob a week wivaht syin' anyfink, an' she'll fink it comes +from Gawd or the Gover'ment yer cawn't tell one from t'other in +Befnal Green. + +LORD W. All right; we'll' do that. + +LEMMY. Will yer reely? I'd like to shyke yer 'and. + + [LORD WILLIAM puts out his hand, which LEMMY grasps.] + +PRESS. [Writing] "The heartbeat of humanity was in that grasp +between the son of toil and the son of leisure." + +LEMMY. [Already ashamed of his emotion] 'Ere, 'arf a mo'! Which is +which? Daon't forget I'm aht o' wori; Lord William, if that's 'is +nyme, is workin 'ard at 'is Anti-Sweats! Wish I could get a job like +vat--jist suit me! + +LORD W. That hits hard, Mr. Lemmy. + +LEMMY. Daon't worry! Yer cawn't 'elp bein' born in the purple! + +LORD W. Ah! Tell me, what would you do in my place? + +LEMMY. Why--as the nobleman said in 'is well-known wy: "Sit in me +Club winder an' watch it ryne on the dam people!" That's if I was a +average nobleman! If I was a bit more noble, I might be tempted to +come the kind'earted on twenty thou' a year. Some prefers yachts, or +ryce 'orses. But philanthropy on the 'ole is syfer, in these dyes. + +LORD W. So you think one takes to it as a sort of insurance, Mr. +Lemmy? Is that quite fair? + +LEMMY. Well, we've all got a weakness towards bein' kind, somewhere +abaht us. But the moment wealf comes in, we 'yn't wot I call +single-'earted. If yer went into the foundytions of your wealf--would +yer feel like 'avin' any? It all comes from uvver people's 'ard, +unpleasant lybour--it's all built on Muvver as yer might sy. An' if +yer daon't get rid o' some of it in bein' kind--yer daon't feel syfe +nor comfy. + +LORD W. [Twisting his moustache] Your philosophy is very pessimistic. + +LEMMY. Well, I calls meself an optimist; I sees the worst of +everyfink. Never disappynted, can afford to 'ave me smile under the +blackest sky. When deaf is squeezin' of me windpipe, I shall 'ave a +laugh in it! Fact is, if yer've 'ad to do wiv gas an' water pipes, +yer can fyce anyfing. [The distant Marseillaise blares up] 'Ark at +the revolution! + +LORD W. [Rather desperately] I know--hunger and all the rest of it! +And here am I, a rich man, and don't know what the deuce to do. + +LEMMY. Well, I'll tell yer. Throw yer cellars open, an' while the +populyce is gettin' drunk, sell all yer 'ave an' go an' live in +Ireland; they've got the millennium chronic over there. + + [LORD WILLIAM utters a short, vexed laugh, and begins to walk + about.] + +That's speakin' as a practical man. Speakin' as a synt "Bruvvers, +all I 'ave is yours. To-morrer I'm goin' dahn to the Lybour Exchynge +to git put on the wytin' list, syme as you!" + +LORD W. But, d---it, man, there we should be, all together! Would +that help? + +LEMMY. Nao; but it'd syve a lot o' blood. + + [LORD WILLIAM stops abruptly, and looks first at LEMMY, then at + the cooler, still cohered with the Chinese mat.] + +Yer thought the Englishman could be taught to shed blood wiv syfety. +Not 'im! Once yer git 'im into an 'abit, yer cawn't git 'im out of +it agyne. 'E'll go on sheddin' blood mechanical--Conservative by +nyture. An' 'e won't myke nuffin' o' yours. Not even the Press wiv +'is 'oneyed words'll sty 'is 'and. + +LORD W. And what do you suggest we could have done, to avoid +trouble? + +LEMMY. [Warming to his theme] I'll tell yer. If all you wealfy +nobs wiv kepitel 'ad come it kind from the start after the war yer'd +never 'a been 'earin' the Marseillaisy naow. Lord! 'Ow you did talk +abaht Unity and a noo spirit in the Country. Noo spirit! Why, soon +as ever there was no dynger from outside, yer stawted to myke it +inside, wiv an iron'and. Naow, you've been in the war an' it's given +yer a feelin' 'eart; but most of the nobs wiv kepitel was too old or +too important to fight. They weren't born agyne. So naow that bad +times is come, we're 'owlin' for their blood. + +LORD W. I quite agree; I quite agree. I've often said much the same +thing. + +LEMMY. Voice cryin' in the wilderness--I daon't sy we was yngels-- +there was faults on bofe sides. [He looks at THE PRESS] The Press +could ha' helped yer a lot. Shall I tell yer wot the Press did? +"It's vital," said the Press, "that the country should be united, or +it will never recover." Nao strikes, nao 'omen nature, nao nuffink. +Kepitel an' Lybour like the Siamese twins. And, fust dispute that +come along, the Press orfs wiv its coat an' goes at it bald'eaded. +An' wot abaht since? Sich a riot o' nymes called, in Press--and +Pawlyement. Unpatriotic an' outrygeous demands o' lybour. +Blood-suckin' tyranny o' Kepitel; thieves an' dawgs an 'owlin +Jackybines--gents throwin' books at each other; all the resources of +edjucytion exhausted! If I'd bin Prime Minister I'd 'ave 'ad the +Press's gas cut 'orf at the meter. Puffect liberty, of course, nao +Censorship; just sy wot yer like--an' never be 'eard of no more. + + [Turning suddenly to THE PRESS, who has been scribbling in pace + with this harangue, and now has developed a touch of writer's + cramp.] + +Why! 'Is 'end's out o' breath! Fink o' vet! + +LORD W. Great tribute to your eloquence, Mr. Lemmy! + + [A sudden stir of applause and scraping of chairs is heard; the + meeting is evidently breaking up. LADY WILLIAM comes in, + followed by MRS. LEMMY with her trousers, and LITTLE AIDA. + LEMMY stares fixedly at this sudden, radiant apparition. His + gaze becomes as that of a rabbit regarding a snake. And + suddenly he puts up his hand and wipes his brow.] + + [LADY WILLIAM, going to the table, lifts one end of the Chinese + mat, and looks at LEMMY. Then she turns to LORD WILLIAM.] + +LADY W. Bill! + +LEMMY. [To his mother--in a hoarse whisper] She calls 'im Bill. +'Ow! 'Yn't she IT? + +LADY W. [Apart] Have you--spoken to him? + + [LORD WILLIAM shakes his head.] + +Not? What have you been saying, then? + +LORD W. Nothing, he's talked all the time. + +LADY W. [Very low] What a little caution! + +LORD W. Steady, old girl! He's got his eye on you! + + [LADY WILLIAM looks at LEMMY, whose eyes are still fixed on + her.] + +LADY W. [With resolution] Well, I'm going to tackle him. + + [She moves towards LEMMY, who again wipes his brow, and wrings + out his hand.] + +MRS. LEMMY. Don't 'ee du that, Bob. Yu must forgive'im, Ma'am; it's +'is admiration. 'E was always one for the ladies, and he'm not used +to seein' so much of 'em. + +LADY W. Don't you think you owe us an explanation? + +MRS. LEMMY. Speak up, Bob. + + [But LEMMY only shifts his feet.] + +My gudeness! 'E've a-lost 'is tongue. I never knu that 'appen to 'e +before. + +LORD W. [Trying to break the embarrassment] No ill-feeling, you +know, Lemmy. + + [But LEMMY still only rolls his eyes.] + +LADY W. Don't you think it was rather--inconsiderate of you? + +LEMMY. Muvver, tyke me aht, I'm feelin' fynte! + + [Spurts of the Marseillaise and the mutter of the crowd have + been coming nearer; and suddenly a knocking is heard. POULDER + and JAMES appear between the pillars.] + +POULDER. The populace, me Lord! + +LADY W. What! + +LORD W. Where've you put 'em, Poulder? + +POULDER. They've put theirselves in the portico, me Lord. + +LORD W. [Suddenly wiping his brow] Phew! I say, this is awful, +Nell! Two speeches in one evening. Nothing else for it, I suppose. +Open the window, Poulder! + +POULDER. [Crossing to the window] We are prepared for any +sacrifice, me Lord. + + [He opens the window.] + +PRESS. [Writing furiously] "Lady William stood like a statue at +bay." + +LORD W. Got one of those lozenges on you, Nell? + + [But LADY WILLIAM has almost nothing on her.] + +LEMMY. [Producing a paper from his pocket] 'Ave one o' my gum +drops? + + [He passes it to LORD WILLIAM.] + +LORD W. [Unable to refuse, takes a large, flat gum drop from the +paper, and looks at it in embarrassment.] Ah! thanks! Thanks +awfully! + + [LEMMY turns to LITTLE AIDA, and puts a gum drop in her mouth. + A burst of murmurs from the crowd.] + +JAMES. [Towering above the wine cooler] If they get saucy, me Lord, +I can always give 'em their own back. + +LORD W. Steady, James; steady! + + [He puts the gum drop absently in his mouth, and turns up to the + open window.] + +VOICE. [Outside] 'Ere they are--the bally plutocrats. + + [Voices in chorus: "Bread! Bread!"] + +LORD W. Poulder, go and tell the chef to send out anything there is +in the house--nicely, as if it came from nowhere in particular. + +POULDER. Very good, me Lord. [Sotto voce] Any wine? If I might +suggest--German--'ock? + +LORD W. What you like. + +POULDER. Very good, me Lord. [He goes.] + +LORD W. I say, dash it, Nell, my teeth are stuck! [He works his +finger in his mouth.] + +LADY W. Take it out, darling. + +LORD W. [Taking out the gum drop and looking at it] What the deuce +did I put it in for? + +PRESS. ['Writing] "With inimitable coolness Lord William prepared +to address the crowd." + + [Voices in chorea: "Bread! Bread!"] + +LORD W. Stand by to prompt, old girl. Now for it. This ghastly gum +drop! + + [LORD WILLIAM takes it from his agitated hand, and flips it + through the window.] + +VOICE. Dahn with the aristo----[Chokes.] + +LADY W. Oh! Bill----oh! It's gone into a mouth! + +LORD W. Good God! + +VOICE. Wet's this? Throwin' things? Mind aht, or we'll smash yer +winders! + + [As the voices in chorus chant: "Bread! Bread!" LITTLE ANNE, + night-gowned, darts in from the hall. She is followed by MISS + STOKES. They stand listening.] + +LORD W. [To the Crowd] My friends, you've come to the wrong shop. +There's nobody in London more sympathetic with you. [The crowd +laughs hoarsely.] [Whispering] Look out, old girl; they can see your +shoulders. [LORD WILLIAM moves back a step.] If I were a speaker, I +could make you feel---- + +VOICE. Look at his white weskit! Blood-suckers--fattened on the +people! + + [JAMES dives his hand at the wine cooler.] + +LORD W. I've always said the Government ought to take immediate +steps---- + +VOICE. To shoot us dahn. + +LORD W. Not a bit. To relieve the--er---- + +LADY W. [Prompting] Distress. + +LADY W. Distress, and ensure--er--ensure + +LADY W. [Prompting] Quiet. + +LORD W. [To her] No, no. To ensure--ensure---- + +L. ANNE. [Agonized] Oh, Daddy! + +VOICE. 'E wants to syve 'is dirty great 'ouse. + +LORD W. [Roused] D----if I do! + + [Rude and hoarse laughter from the crowd.] + +JAMES. [With fury] Me Lord, let me blow 'em to glory! + + [He raises the cooler and advances towards the window.] + +LORD W. [Turning sharply on him] Drop it, James; drop it! + +PRESS. [Jumping] No, no; don't drop it! + + [JAMES retires crestfallen to the table, where he replaces the + cooler.] + +LORD W. [Catching hold of his bit] Look here, I must have fought +alongside some of you fellows in the war. Weren't we jolly well like +brothers? + +A VOICE. Not so much bloomin' "Kamerad"; hand over yer 'Ouse. + +LORD W. I was born with this beastly great house, and money, and +goodness knows what other entanglements--a wife and family---- + +VOICE. Born with a wife and family! + + [Jeers and laughter.] + +LORD W. I feel we're all in the same boat, and I want to pull my +weight. If you can show me the way, I'll take it fast enough. + +A DEEP VOICE. Step dahn then, an' we'll step up. + +ANOTHER VOICE. 'Ear, 'Ear! + + [A fierce little cheer.] + +LORD W. [To LADY WILLIAM--in despair] By George! I can't get in +anywhere! + +LADY W. [Calmly] Then shut the window, Bill. + +LEMMY. [Who has been moving towards them slowly] Lemme sy a word to +'em. + + [All stare at him. LEMMY approaches the window, followed by + LITTLE AIDA. POULDER re-enters with the three other footmen.] + +[At the window] Cheerio! Cockies! + + [The silence of surprise falls on the crowd.] + +I'm one of yer. Gas an' water I am. Got more grievances an' out of +employment than any of yer. I want to see their blood flow, syme as +you. + +PRESS. [writing] "Born orator--ready cockney wit--saves situation." + +LEMMY. Wot I sy is: Dahn wiv the country, dahn wiv everyfing. Begin +agyne from the foundytions. [Nodding his head back at the room] But +we've got to keep one or two o' these 'ere under glawss, to show our +future generytions. An' this one is 'armless. His pipes is sahnd, +'is 'eart is good; 'is 'ead is not strong. Is 'ouse will myke a +charmin' palace o' varieties where our children can come an' see 'ow +they did it in the good old dyes. Yer never see rich waxworks as 'is +butler and 'is four conscientious khaki footmen. Why--wot dyer think +'e 'as 'em for--fear they might be out o'-works like you an' me. +Nao! Keep this one; 'e's a Flower. 'Arf a mo'! I'll show yer my +Muvver. Come 'ere, old lydy; and bring yer trahsers. [MRS. LEMMY +comes forward to the window] Tell abaht yer speech to the meetin'. + +MRS. LEMMY. [Bridling] Oh dear! Well, I cam' in with me trousers, +an' they putt me up on the pedestory at once, so I tole 'em. +[Holding up the trousers] "I putt in the button'oles, I stretches +the flies; I lines the crutch; I putt on this bindin', I presses the +seams--Tuppence three farthin's a pair." + + [A groan from tote crowd, ] + +LEMMY. [Showing her off] Seventy-seven! Wot's 'er income? Twelve +bob a week; seven from the Gover'ment an' five from the sweat of 'er +brow. Look at 'er! 'Yn't she a tight old dear to keep it goin'! No +workus for 'er, nao fear! The gryve rather! + + [Murmurs from the crowd, at Whom MRS. LEMMY is blandly smiling.] + +You cawn't git below 'er--impossible! She's the foundytions of the +country--an' rocky 'yn't the word for 'em. Worked 'ard all 'er life, +brought up a family and buried 'em on it. Twelve bob a week, an' +given when 'er fingers goes, which is very near. Well, naow, this +torf 'ere comes to me an' says: "I'd like to do somefin' for yer +muvver. 'Ow's ten bob a week?" 'e says. Naobody arst 'im--quite on +'is own. That's the sort 'e is. [Sinking his voice confidentially] +Sorft. You bring yer muvvers 'ere, 'e'll do the syme for them. I +giv yer the 'int. + +VOICE. [From the crowd] What's 'is nyme? + +LEMMY. They calls 'im Bill. + +VOICE. Bill What? + +L. ANNE. Dromondy. + +LADY W. Anne! + +LEMMY. Dromedary 'is nyme is. + +VOICE. [From the crowd] Three cheers for Bill Dromedary. + +LEMMY. I sy, there's veal an' 'am, an' pork wine at the back for +them as wants it; I 'eard the word passed. An' look 'ere, if yer +want a flag for the revolution, tyke muvver's trahsers an' tie 'em to +the corfin. Yer cawn't 'ave no more inspirin' banner. Ketch! [He +throws the trousers out] Give Bill a double-barrel fast, to show +there's no ill-feelin'. Ip, 'ip! + + [The crowd cheers, then slowly passes away, singing at a hoarse + version of the Marseillaise, till all that is heard is a faint + murmuring and a distant barrel-organ playing the same tune.] + +PRESS. [Writing] "And far up in the clear summer air the larks were +singing." + +LORD W. [Passing his heard over his hair, and blinking his eyes] +James! Ready? + +JAMES. Me Lord! + +L. ANNE. Daddy! + +LADY W. [Taking his arm] Bill! It's all right, old man--all right! + +LORD W. [Blinking] Those infernal larks! Thought we were on the +Somme again! Ah! Mr. Lemmy, [Still rather dreamy] no end obliged +to you; you're so decent. Now, why did you want to blow us up before +dinner? + +LEMMY. Blow yer up? [Passing his hand over his hair in travesty] +"Is it a dream? Then wykin' would be pyne." + +MRS. LEMMY. Bo-ob! Not so saucy, my boy! + +LEMMY. Blow yet up? Wot abaht it? + +LADY W. [Indicating the bomb] This, Mr. Lemmy! + + [LEMMY looks at it, and his eyes roll and goggle.] + +LORD W. Come, all's forgiven! But why did you? + +LEMMY. Orl right! I'm goin' to tyke it awy; it'd a-been a bit +ork'ard for me. I'll want it to-mower. + +LORD W. What! To leave somewhere else? + +LEMMY. 'Yus, of course! + +LORD W. No, no; dash it! Tell us what's it filled with? + +LEMMY. Filled wiv? Nuffin'. Wot did yet expect? Toof-pahder? +It's got a bit o' my lead soldered on to it. That's why it's 'eavy! + +LORD W. But what is it? + +LEMMY. Wot is it? [His eyes are fearfully fixed on LADY WILLIAM] I +fought everybody knew 'em. + +LADY W. Mr. Lemmy, you must clear this up, please. + +LEMMY. [TO LORD WILLIAM, With his eyes still held On LADY WILLIAM-- +mysteriously] Wiv lydies present? 'Adn't I better tell the Press? + +LORD W. All right; tell someone--anyone! + + [LEMMY goes down to THE PRESS, who is reading over his last + note. Everyone watches and listens with the utmost discretion, + while he whispers into the ear of THE PRESS; who shakes his head + violently.] + +PRESS. No, no; it's too horrible. It destroys my whole---- + +LEMMY. Well, I tell yer it is. + + [Whispers again violently.] + +PRESS. No, no; I can't have it. All my article! All my article! +It can't be--no---- + +LEMMY. I never see sick an obstinate thick-head! Yer 'yn't worvy of +yet tryde. + + [He whispers still more violently and makes cabalistic signs.] + + [LADY WILLIAM lifts the bomb from the cooler into the sight of + all. LORD WILLIAM, seeing it for the first time in full light, + bends double in silent laughter, and whispers to his wife. LADY + WILLIAM drops the bomb and gives way too. Hearing the sound, + LEMMY turns, and his goggling eyes pan them all in review. LORD + and LADY WILLIAM in fits of laughter, LITTLE ANNE stamping her + feet, for MISS STOKES, red, but composed, has her hands placed + firmly over her pupil's eyes and ears; LITTLE AIDA smiling + brilliantly, MRS. LEMMY blandly in sympathy, neither knowing + why; the FOUR FOOTMAN in a row, smothering little explosions. + POULDER, extremely grave and red, THE PRESS perfectly haggard, + gnawing at his nails.] + +LEMMY. [Turning to THE PRESS] Blimy! It amooses 'em, all but the +genteel ones. Cheer oh! Press! Yer can always myke somefin' out o' +nufun'? It's not the fust thing as 'as existed in yer imaginytion +only. + +PRESS. No, d---it; I'll keep it a bomb! + +LEMMY. [Soothingly] Ah! Keep the sensytion. Wot's the troof +compared wiv that? Come on, Muvver! Come on, Little Aida! Time we +was goin' dahn to 'Earf. + + [He goes up to the table, and still skidding a little at LADY + WILLIAM, takes the late bomb from the cooler, placing it under + his arm.] + +MRS. LEMMY. Gude naight, sir; gude naight, ma'am; thank yu for my +cup o' tea, an' all yore kindness. + + [She shakes hands with LORD and LADY WILLIAM, drops the curtsey + of her youth before Mr. POULDER, and goes out followed by LITTLE + AIDA, who is looking back at LITTLE ANNE.] + +LEMMY. [Turning suddenly] Aoh! An' jist one frog! Next time yer +build an 'ouse, daon't forget--it's the foundytions as bears the +wyte. + + [With a wink that gives way, to a last fascinated look at LADY + WILLIAM, he passes out. All gaze after them, except THE PRESS, + who is tragically consulting his spiflicated notes.] + +L. ANNE. [Breaking away from Miss STOKES and rushing forward] Oh! +Mum! what was it? + + +CURTAIN + + + + + + +THE SKIN GAME + +(A TRAGI-COMEDY) + +"Who touches pitch shall be defiled" + + + +CHARACTERS + +HILLCRIST ...............A Country Gentleman +AMY .....................His Wife +JILL ....................His Daughter +DAWKER ..................His Agent +HORNBLOWER ..............A Man Newly-Rich +CHARLES .................His Elder Son +CHLOE ...................Wife to Charles +ROLF ....................His Younger Son +FELLOWS .................Hillcrist's Butler +ANNA ....................Chloe's Maid +THE JACKMANS ............Man and Wife + +AN AUCTIONEER +A SOLICITOR +TWO STRANGERS + + + +ACT I. HILLCRIST'S Study + +ACT II. + SCENE I. A month later. An Auction Room. + SCENE II. The same evening. CHLOE'S Boudoir. + +ACT III + + SCENE I. The following day. HILLCRIST'S Study. Morning. + SCENE II. The Same. Evening. + + + + +ACT I + + HILLCRIST'S study. A pleasant room, with books in calf + bindings, and signs that the HILLCRIST'S have travelled, such + as a large photograph of the Taj Mahal, of Table Mountain, and + the Pyramids of Egypt. A large bureau [stage Right], devoted + to the business of a country estate. Two foxes' masks. + Flowers in bowls. Deep armchairs. A large French window open + [at Back], with a lovely view of a slight rise of fields and + trees in August sunlight. A fine stone fireplace [stage Left]. + A door [Left]. A door opposite [Right]. General colour + effect--stone, and cigar-leaf brown, with spots of bright + colour. + + [HILLCRIST sits in a swivel chair at the bureau, busy with + papers. He has gout, and his left foot is encased accord: He + is a thin, dried-up man of about fifty-five, with a rather + refined, rather kindly, and rather cranky countenance. Close + to him stands his very upstanding nineteen-year-old daughter + JILL, with clubbed hair round a pretty, manly face.] + +JILL. You know, Dodo, it's all pretty good rot in these days. + +HILLCRIST. Cads are cads, Jill, even in these days. + +JILL. What is a cad? + +HILLCRIST. A self-assertive fellow, without a sense of other +people. + +JILL. Well, Old Hornblower I'll give you. + +HILLCRIST. I wouldn't take him. + +JILL. Well, you've got him. Now, Charlie--Chearlie--I say--the +importance of not being Charlie---- + +HILLCRIST. Good heavens! do you know their Christian names? + +JILL. My dear father, they've been here seven years. + +HILLCRIST. In old days we only knew their Christian names from +their tombstones. + +JILL. Charlie Hornblower isn't really half a bad sport. + +HILLCRIST. About a quarter of a bad sport I've always thought out +hunting. + +JILL. [Pulling his hair] Now, his wife--Chloe--- + +HILLCRIST. [Whimsical] Gad! your mother'd have a fit if she knew +you called her Chloe. + +JILL. It's a ripping name. + +HILLCRIST. Chloe! H'm! I had a spaniel once---- + +JILL. Dodo, you're narrow. Buck up, old darling, it won't do. +Chloe has seen life, I'm pretty sure; THAT'S attractive, anyway. +No, mother's not in the room; don't turn your uneasy eyes. + +HILLCRIST. Really, my dear, you are getting---- + +JILL. The limit. Now, Rolf---- + +HILLCRIST. What's Rolf? Another dog? + +JILL. Rolf Hornblower's a topper; he really is a nice boy. + +HILLCRIST. [With a sharp look] Oh! He's a nice boy? + +JILL. Yes, darling. You know what a nice boy is, don't you? + +HILLCRIST. Not in these days. + +JILL. Well, I'll tell you. In the first place, he's not amorous. + +HILLCRIST. What! Well, that's some comfort. + +JILL. Just a jolly good companion. + +HILLCRIST. To whom? + +JILL. Well, to anyone--me. + +HILLCRIST. Where? + +JILL. Anywhere. You don't suppose I confine myself to the home +paddocks, do you? I'm naturally rangey, Father. + +HILLCRIST. [Ironically] You don't say so! + +JILL. In the second place, he doesn't like discipline. + +HILLCRIST. Jupiter! He does seem attractive. + +JILL. In the third place, he bars his father. + +HILLCRIST. Is that essential to nice girls too? + +JILL. [With a twirl of his hair] Fish not! Fourthly, he's got +ideas. + +HILLCRIST. I knew it! + +JILL. For instance, he thinks--as I do---- + +HILLCRIST. Ah! Good ideas. + +JILL. [Pulling gently] Careful! He thinks old people run the show +too much. He says they oughtn't to, because they're so damtouchy. +Are you damtouchy, darling? + +HILLCRIST. Well, I'm----! I don't know about touchy. + +JILL. He says there'll be no world fit to live in till we get rid +of the old. We must make them climb a tall tree, and shake them off +it. + +HILLCRIST. [Drily] Oh! he says that! + +JILL. Otherwise, with the way they stand on each other's rights, +they'll spoil the garden for the young. + +HILLCRIST. Does his father agree? + +JILL. Oh! Rolf doesn't talk to him, his mouth's too large. Have +you ever seen it, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Of course. + +JILL. It's considerable, isn't it? Now yours is--reticent, +darling. [Rumpling his hair.] + +HILLCRIST. It won't be in a minute. Do you realise that I've got +gout? + +JILL. Poor ducky! How long have we been here, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Since Elizabeth, anyway. + +JILL. [Looking at his foot] It has its drawbacks. D'you think +Hornblower had a father? I believe he was spontaneous. But, Dodo, +why all this--this attitude to the Hornblowers? + + [She purses her lips and makes a gesture as of pushing persons + away.] + +HILLCRIST. Because they're pushing. + +JILL. That's only because we are, as mother would say, and they're +not--yet. But why not let them be? + +HILLCRIST. You can't. + +JILL. Why? + +HILLCRIST. It takes generations to learn to live and let live, +Jill. People like that take an ell when you give them an inch. + +JILL. But if you gave them the ell, they wouldn't want the inch. +Why should it all be such a skin game? + +HILLCRIST. Skin game? Where do you get your lingo? + +JILL. Keep to the point, Dodo. + +HILLCRIST. Well, Jill, all life's a struggle between people at +different stages of development, in different positions, with +different amounts of social influence and property. And the only +thing is to have rules of the game and keep them. New people like +the Hornblowers haven't learnt those rules; their only rule is to +get all they can. + +JILL. Darling, don't prose. They're not half as bad as you think. + +HILLCRIST. Well, when I sold Hornblower Longmeadow and the +cottages, I certainly found him all right. All the same, he's got +the cloven hoof. [Warming up] His influence in Deepwater is +thoroughly bad; those potteries of his are demoralising--the whole +atmosphere of the place is changing. It was a thousand pities he +ever came here and discovered that clay. He's brought in the modern +cutthroat spirit. + +JILL. Cut our throat spirit, you mean. What's your definition of a +gentleman, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. [Uneasily] Can't describe--only feel it. + +JILL. Oh! Try! + +HILLCRIST. Well--er--I suppose you might say--a man who keeps his +form and doesn't let life scupper him out of his standards. + +JILL. But suppose his standards are low? + +HILLCRIST. [With some earnestness] I assume, of course, that he's +honest and tolerant, gentle to the weak, and not self-seeking. + +JILL. Ah! self-seeking? But aren't we all, Dodo? I am. + +HILLCRIST. [With a smile] You! + +JILL. [Scornfully] Oh! yes--too young to know. + +HILLCRIST. Nobody knows till they're under pretty heavy fire, Jill. + +JILL. Except, of course, mother. + +HILLCRIST. How do you mean--mother? + +JILL. Mother reminds me of England according to herself--always +right whatever she does. + +HILLCRIST. Ye-es. Your mother it perhaps--the perfect woman. + +JILL. That's what I was saying. Now, no one could call you +perfect, Dodo. Besides, you've got gout. + +HILLCRIST. Yes; and I want Fellows. Ring that bell. + +JILL. [Crossing to the bell] Shall I tell you my definition of a +gentleman? A man who gives the Hornblower his due. [She rings the +bell] And I think mother ought to call on them. Rolf says old +Hornblower resents it fearfully that she's never made a sign to +Chloe the three years she's been here. + +HILLCRIST. I don't interfere with your mother in such matters. She +may go and call on the devil himself if she likes. + +JILL. I know you're ever so much better than she is. + +HILLCRIST. That's respectful. + +JILL. You do keep your prejudices out of your phiz. But mother +literally looks down her nose. And she never forgives an "h." +They'd get the "hell" from her if they took the "hinch." + +HILLCRIST. Jill-your language! + +JILL. Don't slime out of it, Dodo. I say, mother ought to call on +the Hornblowers. [No answer.] Well? + +HILLCRIST. My dear, I always let people have the last word. It +makes them--feel funny. Ugh! My foot![Enter FELLOWS, Left.] +Fellows, send into the village and get another bottle of this stuff. + +JILL. I'll go, darling. + + [She blow him a kiss, and goes out at the window.] + +HILLCRIST. And tell cook I've got to go on slops. This foot's +worse. + +FELLOWS. [Sympathetic] Indeed, sir. + +HILLCRIST. My third go this year, Fellows. + +FELLOWS. Very annoying, sir. + +HILLCRIST. Ye-es. Ever had it? + +FELLOWS. I fancy I have had a twinge, sir. + +HILLCRIST. [Brightening] Have you? Where? + +FELLOWS. In my cork wrist, sir. + +HILLCRIST. Your what? + +FELLOWS. The wrist I draw corks with. + +HILLCRIST. [With a cackle] You'd have had more than a twinge if +you'd lived with my father. H'm! + +FELLOWS. Excuse me, sir--Vichy water corks, in my experience, are +worse than any wine. + +HILLCRIST. [Ironically] Ah! The country's not what it was, is it, +Fellows? + +FELLOWS. Getting very new, sir. + +HILLCRIST. [Feelingly] You're right. Has Dawker come? + +FELLOWS. Not yet, sir. The Jackmans would like to see you, sir. + +HILLCRIST. What about? + +FELLOWS. I don't know, sir. + +HILLCRIST. Well, show them in. + +FELLOWS. [Going] Yes, sir. + + [HILLCRIST turns his swivel chair round. The JACKMANS come in. + He, a big fellow about fifty, in a labourer's dress, with eyes + which have more in then than his tongue can express; she, a + little woman with a worn face, a bright, quick glance, and a + tongue to match.] + +HILLCRIST. Good morning, Mrs. Jackman! Morning, Jackman! Haven't +seen you for a long time. What can I do? + + [He draws in foot, and breath, with a sharp hiss.] + +HILLCRIST. [In a down-hearted voice] We've had notice to quit, +sir. + +HILLCRIST. [With emphasis] What! + +JACKMAN. Got to be out this week. + +MRS. J. Yes, sir, indeed. + +HILLCRIST. Well, but when I sold Longmeadow and the cottages, it +was on the express understanding that there was to be no disturbance +of tenancies: + +MRS. J. Yes, sir; but we've all got to go. Mrs. 'Arvey, and the +Drews, an' us, and there isn't another cottage to be had anywhere in +Deepwater. + +HILLCRIST. I know; I want one for my cowman. This won't do at all. +Where do you get it from? + +JACKMAN. Mr. 'Ornblower, 'imself, air. Just an hour ago. He come +round and said: "I'm sorry; I want the cottages, and you've got to +clear." + +MRS. J. [Bitterly] He's no gentleman, sir; he put it so brisk. We +been there thirty years, and now we don't know what to do. So I +hope you'll excuse us coming round, sir. + +HILLCRIST. I should think so, indeed! H'm! [He rises and limps +across to the fireplace on his stick. To himself] The cloven hoof. +By George! this is a breach of faith. I'll write to him, Jackman. +Confound it! I'd certainly never have sold if I'd known he was +going to do this. + +MRS. J. No, sir, I'm sure, sir. They do say it's to do with the +potteries. He wants the cottages for his workmen. + +HILLCRIST. [Sharply] That's all very well, but he shouldn't have +led me to suppose that he would make no change. + +JACKMAN. [Heavily] They talk about his havin' bought the Centry to +gut up more chimneys there, and that's why he wants the cottages. + +HINT. The Centry! Impossible! + + [Mrs. J. Yes, air; it's such a pretty spot-looks beautiful + from here. [She looks out through the window] Loveliest spot + in all Deepwater, I always say. And your father owned it, and + his father before 'im. It's a pity they ever sold it, sir, + beggin' your pardon.] + +HILLCRIST. The Centry! [He rings the bell.] + +Mrs. J. [Who has brightened up] I'm glad you're goin' to stop it, +sir. It does put us about. We don't know where to go. I said to +Mr. Hornblower, I said, "I'm sure Mr. Hillcrist would never 'eve +turned us out." An' 'e said: "Mr. Hillcrist be----" beggin' your +pardon, sir. "Make no mistake," 'e said, "you must go, missis." He +don't even know our name; an' to come it like this over us! He's a +dreadful new man, I think, with his overridin notions. And sich a +heavyfooted man, to look at. [With a sort of indulgent contempt] +But he's from the North, they say. + + [FELLOWS has entered, Left.] + +HILLCRIST. Ask Mrs. Hillcrist if she'll come. + +FELLOWS. Very good, sir. + +HILLCRIST. Is Dawker here? + +FELLOWS. Not yet, sir. + +HILLCRIST. I want to see him at once. + + [FELLOWS retires.] + +JACKMAN. Mr. Hornblower said he was comin' on to see you, sir. So +we thought we'd step along first. + +HILLCRIST. Quite right, Jackman. + +MRS. J. I said to Jackman: "Mr. Hillcrist'll stand up for us, I +know. He's a gentleman," I said. "This man," I said, "don't care +for the neighbourhood, or the people; he don't care for anything so +long as he makes his money, and has his importance. You can't +expect it, I suppose," I said; [Bitterly] "havin' got rich so +sudden." The gentry don't do things like that. + +HILLCRIST. [Abstracted] Quite, Mrs. Jackman, quite! +[To himself] The Centry! No! + + [MRS. HILLCRIST enters. A well-dressed woman, with a firm, + clear-cut face.] + +Oh! Amy! Mr. and Mrs. Jackman turned out of their cottage, and +Mrs. Harvey, and the Drews. When I sold to Hornblower, I stipulated +that they shouldn't be. + +MRS. J. Our week's up on Saturday, ma'am, and I'm sure I don't know +where we shall turn, because of course Jackman must be near his +work, and I shall lose me washin' if we have to go far. + +HILLCRIST. [With decision] You leave it to me, Mrs. Jackman. Good +morning! Morning, Jackman! Sorry I can't move with this gout. + +MRS. J. [For them both] I'm sure we're very sorry, sir. Good +morning, sir. Good morning, ma'am; and thank you kindly. [They go +out.] + +HILLCRIST. Turning people out that have been there thirty years. I +won't have it. It's a breach of faith. + +MRS. H. Do you suppose this Hornblower will care two straws about +that Jack? + +HILLCRIST. He must, when it's put to him, if he's got any decent +feeling. + +MRS. H. He hasn't. + +HILLCRIST. [Suddenly] The Jackmans talk of his having bought the +Centry to put up more chimneys. + +MRS. H. Never! [At the window, looking out] Impossible! It would +ruin the place utterly; besides cutting us off from the Duke's. Oh, +no! Miss Mullins would never sell behind our backs. + +HILLCRIST. Anyway I must stop his turning these people out. + +Mrs. H. [With a little smile, almost contemptuous] You might have +known he'd do something of the sort. You will imagine people are +like yourself, Jack. You always ought to make Dawker have things in +black and white. + +HILLCRIST. I said quite distinctly: "Of course you won't want to +disturb the tenancies; there's a great shortage of cottages." +Hornblower told me as distinctly that he wouldn't. What more do you +want? + +Mrs. H. A man like that thinks of nothing but the short cut to his +own way. [Looking out of the window towards the rise] If he buys +the Centry and puts up chimneys, we simply couldn't stop here. + +HILLCRIST. My father would turn in his grave. + +MRS. H. It would have been more useful if he'd not dipped the +estate, and sold the Centry. This Hornblower hates us; he thinks we +turn up our noses at him. + +HILLCRIST. As we do, Amy. + +MRS. H. Who wouldn't? A man without traditions, who believes in +nothing but money and push. + +HILLCRIST. Suppose he won't budge, can we do anything for the +Jackmans? + +MRS. H. There are the two rooms Beaver used to have, over the +stables. + +FELLOWS. Mr. Dawker, sir. + + [DAWKERS is a short, square, rather red-faced terrier of a man, + in riding clothes and gaiters.] + +HILLCRIST. Ah! Dawker, I've got gout again. + +DAWKER. Very sorry, sir. How de do, ma'am? + +HILLCRIST. Did you meet the Jackmans? + +DAWKERS. Yeh. + + [He hardly ever quite finishes a word, seeming to snap of their + tails.] + +HILLCRIST. Then you heard? + +DAWKER. [Nodding] Smart man, Hornblower; never lets grass grow. + +HILLCRIST. Smart? + +DAWKER. [Grinning] Don't do to underrate your neighbours. + +MRS. H. A cad--I call him. + +DAWKER. That's it, ma'am-got all the advantage. + +HILLCRIST. Heard anything about the Centry, Dawker? + +DAWKER. Hornblower wants to buy. + +HILLCRIST. Miss Mullins would never sell, would she? + +DAWKER. She wants to. + +HILLCRIST. The deuce she does! + +DAWKER. He won't stick at the price either. + +MRS. H. What's it worth, Dawker? + +DAWKER. Depends on what you want it for. + +MRS. H. He wants it for spite; we want it for sentiment. + +DAWKER. [Grinning] Worth what you like to give, then; but he's a +rich man. + +MRS. H. Intolerable! + +DAWKER. [To HILLCRIST] Give me your figure, sir. I'll try the old +lady before he gets at her. + +HILLCRIST. [Pondering] I don't want to buy, unless there's nothing +else for it. I should have to raise the money on the estate; it +won't stand much more. I can't believe the fellow would be such a +barbarian. Chimneys within three hundred yards, right in front of +this house! It's a nightmare. + +MRS. H. You'd much better let Dawker make sure, Jack. + +HILLCRIST. [Uncomfortable] Jackman says Hornblower's coming round +to see me. I shall put it to him. + +DAWKER. Make him keener than ever. Better get in first. + +HILLCRIST. Ape his methods!--Ugh! Confound this gout! [He gets +back to his chair with difficulty] Look here, Dawker, I wanted to +see you about gates---- + +FELLOWS. [Entering] Mr. Hornblower. + + [HORNBLOWER enters-a man of medium, height, thoroughly + broadened, blown out, as it were, by success. He has thick, + coarse, dark hair, just grizzled, wry bushy eyebrow, a wide + mouth. He wears quite ordinary clothes, as if that department + were in charge of someone who knew about such, things. He has + a small rose in his buttonhole, and carries a Homburg hat, + which one suspects will look too small on his head.] + +HORNBLOWER. Good morning! good morning! How are ye, Dawker? Fine +morning! Lovely weather! + + [His voice has a curious blend in its tone of brass and oil, + and an accent not quite Scotch nor quite North country.] + +Haven't seen ye for a long time, Hillcrist. + +HILLCRIST. [Who has risen] Not since I sold you Longmeadow and +those cottages, I believe. + +HORNBLOWER. Dear me, now! that's what I came about. + +HILLCRIST. [Subsiding again into his chair] Forgive me! Won't you +sit down? + +HORNBLOWER. [Not sitting] Have ye got gout? That's unfortunate. +I never get it. I've no disposition that way. Had no ancestors, +you see. Just me own drinkin' to answer for. + +HILLCRIST. You're lucky. + +HORNBLOWER. I wonder if Mrs. Hillcrist thinks that! Am I lucky to +have no past, ma'am? Just the future? + +MRS. H. You're sure you have the future, Mr. Hornblower? + +HORNBLOWER. [With a laugh] That's your aristocratic rapier thrust. +You aristocrats are very hard people underneath your manners. Ye +love to lay a body out. But I've got the future all right. + +HILLCRIST. [Meaningly] I've had the Dackmans here, Mr. Hornblower. + +HORNBLOWER. Who are they--man with the little spitfire wife? + +HILLCRIST. They're very excellent, good people, and they've been in +that cottage quietly thirty years. + +HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his forefinger--a favourite gesture] Ah! +ye've wanted me to stir ye up a bit. Deepwater needs a bit o' go +put into it. There's generally some go where I am. I daresay you +wish there'd been no "come." [He laughs]. + +MRS. H. We certainly like people to keep their word, Mr. +Hornblower. + +HILLCRIST. Amy! + +HORNBLOWER. Never mind, Hillcrist; takes more than that to upset +me. + + [MRS. HILLCRIST exchanges a look with DAWKER who slips out + unobserved.] + +HILLCRIST. You promised me, you know, not to change the tenancies. + +HORNBLOWER. Well, I've come to tell ye that I have. I wasn't +expecting to have the need when I bought. Thought the Duke would +sell me a bit down there; but devil a bit he will; and now I must +have those cottages for my workmen. I've got important works, ye +know. + +HILLCRIST. [Getting heated] The Jackmans have their importance +too, sir. Their heart's in that cottage. + +HORNBLOWER. Have a sense of proportion, man. My works supply +thousands of people, and my heart's in them. What's more, they +make my fortune. I've got ambitions--I'm a serious man. Suppose I +were to consider this and that, and every little potty objection-- +where should I get to?--nowhere! + +HILLCRIST. All the same, this sort of thing isn't done, you know. + +HORNBLOWER. Not by you because ye've got no need to do it. Here ye +are, quite content on what your fathers made for ye. Ye've no +ambitions; and ye want other people to have none. How d'ye think +your fathers got your land? + +HILLCRIST. [Who has risen] Not by breaking their word. + +HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his, finger] Don't ye believe it. They +got it by breaking their word and turnin' out Jackmans, if that's +their name, all over the place. + +MRS. H. That's an insult, Mr. Hornblower. + +HORNBLOWER. No; it's a repartee. If ye think so much of these +Jackmans, build them a cottage yourselves; ye've got the space. + +HILLCRIST. That's beside the point. You promised me, and I sold on +that understanding. + +HORNBLOWER. And I bought on the understandin' that I'd get some +more land from the Duke. + +HILLCRIST. That's nothing to do with me. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye'll find it has; because I'm going to have those +cottages. + +HILLCRIST. Well, I call it simply---- + + [He checks himself.] + +HORNBLOWER. Look here, Hillcrist, ye've not had occasion to +understand men like me. I've got the guts, and I've got the money; +and I don't sit still on it. I'm going ahead because I believe in +meself. I've no use for sentiment and that sort of thing. Forty of +your Jackmans aren't worth me little finger. + +HILLCRIST. [Angry] Of all the blatant things I ever heard said! + +HORNBLOWER. Well, as we're speaking plainly, I've been thinkin'. +Ye want the village run your oldfashioned way, and I want it run +mine. I fancy there's not room for the two of us here. + +MRS. H. When are you going? + +HORNBLOWER. Never fear, I'm not going. + +HILLCRIST. Look here, Mr. Hornblower--this infernal gout makes me +irritable--puts me at a disadvantage. But I should be glad if you'd +kindly explain yourself. + +HORNBLOWER. [With a great smile] Ca' canny; I'm fra' the North. + +HILLCRIST. I'm told you wish to buy the Centry and put more of your +chimneys up there, regardless of the fact [He Points through the +window] that it would utterly ruin the house we've had for +generations, and all our pleasure here. + +HORNBLOWER. How the man talks! Why! Ye'd think he owned the sky, +because his fathers built him a house with a pretty view, where he's +nothing to do but live. It's sheer want of something to do that +gives ye your fine sentiments, Hillcrist. + + +HILLCRIST. Have the goodness not to charge me with idleness. +Dawker--where is he?----[He shows the bureau] When you do the +drudgery of your works as thoroughly as I do that of my estate---- +Is it true about the Centry? + +HORNBLOWER. Gospel true. If ye want to know, my son Chearlie is +buyin' it this very minute. + +MRS. H. [Turning with a start] What do you say? + +HORNBLOWER. Ay, he's with the old lady she wants to sell, an' +she'll get her price, whatever it is. + +HILLCRIST. [With deep anger] If that isn't a skin game, Mr. +Hornblower, I don't know what is. + +HORNBLOWER. Ah! Ye've got a very nice expression there. "Skin +game!" Well, bad words break no bones, an' they're wonderful for +hardenin' the heart. If it wasn't for a lady's presence, I could +give ye a specimen or two. + +MRS. H. Oh! Mr. Hornblower, that need not stop you, I'm sure. + +HORNBLOWER. Well, and I don't know that it need. Ye're an +obstruction--the like of you--ye're in my path. And anyone in my +path doesn't stay there long; or, if he does, he stays there on my +terms. And my terms are chimneys in the Centry where I need 'em. +It'll do ye a power of good, too, to know that ye're not almighty. + +HILLCRIST. And that's being neighbourly! + +HORNBLOWER. And how have ye tried bein' neighbourly to me? If I +haven't a wife, I've got a daughter-in-law. Have Ye celled on her, +ma'am? I'm new, and ye're an old family. Ye don't like me, ye +think I'm a pushin' man. I go to chapel, an' ye don't like that. +I make things and I sell them, and ye don't like that. I buy land, +and ye don't like that. It threatens the view from your windies. +Well, I don't lie you, and I'm not goin' to put up with your +attitude. Ye've had things your own way too long, and now ye're not +going to have them any longer. + +HILLCRIST. Will you hold to your word over those cottages? + +HORNBLOWER. I'm goin' to have the cottages. I need them, and more +besides, now I'm to put up me new works. + +HILLCRIST. That's a declaration of war. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye never said a truer word. It's one or the other of +us, and I rather think it's goin' to be me. I'm the risin' and +you're the settin' sun, as the poet says. + +HILLCRIST. [Touching the bell] We shall see if you can ride +rough-shod like this. We used to have decent ways of going about +things here. You want to change all that. Well, we shall do our +damnedest to stop you. [To FELLOWS at the door] Are the Jackmans +still in the house? Ask them to be good enough to come in. + +HORNBLOWER. [With the first sign of uneasiness] I've seen these +people. I've nothing more to say to them. I told 'em I'd give 'em +five pounds to cover their moving. + +HILLCRIST. It doesn't occur to you that people, however humble, +like to have some say in their own fate? + +HORNBLOWER. I never had any say in mine till I had the brass, and +nobody ever will. It's all hypocrisy. You county folk are fair +awful hypocrites. Ye talk about good form and all that sort o' +thing. It's just the comfortable doctrine of the man in the saddle; +sentimental varnish. Ye're every bit as hard as I am, underneath. + +MRS. H. [Who had been standing very still all this time] You +flatter us. + +HORNBLOWER. Not at all. God helps those who 'elp themselves-- +that's at the bottom of all religion. I'm goin' to help meself, and +God's going to help me. + +MRS. H. I admire your knowledge. + +HILLCRIST. We are in the right, and God helps---- + +HORNBLOWER. Don't ye believe it; ye 'aven't got the energy. + +MRS. H. Nor perhaps the conceit. + +HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his forefinger] No, no; 'tisn't conceit +to believe in yourself when ye've got reason to. [The JACKMAN'S +have entered.] + +HILLCRIST. I'm very sorry, Mrs. Jackman, but I just wanted you to +realise that I've done my best with this gentleman. + +MRS. J. [Doubtfully] Yes, sir. I thought if you spoke for us, +he'd feel different-like. + +HORNBLOWER. One cottage is the same as another, missis. I made ye +a fair offer of five pounds for the moving. + +JACKMAN. [Slowly] We wouldn't take fifty to go out of that 'ouse. +We brought up three children there, an' buried two from it. + +MRS. J. [To MRS. HILLCRIST] We're attached to it like, ma'am. + +HILLCRIST. [To HORNBLOWER.] How would you like being turned out of +a place you were fond of? + +HORNBLOWER. Not a bit. But little considerations have to give way +to big ones. Now, missis, I'll make it ten pounds, and I'll send a +wagon to shift your things. If that isn't fair--! Ye'd better +accept, I shan't keep it open. + + [The JACKMANS look at each other; their faces show deep anger-- + and the question they ask each other is which will speak.] + +MRS. J. We won't take it; eh, George? + +JACKMAN. Not a farden. We come there when we was married. + +HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his finger] Ye're very improvident folk. + +HILLCRIST. Don't lecture them, Mr. Hornblower; they come out of +this miles above you. + +HORNBLOWER. [Angry] Well, I was going to give ye another week, but +ye'll go out next Saturday; and take care ye're not late, or your +things'll be put out in the rain. + +MRS. H. [To MRS. JACKMAN] We'll send down for your things, and you +can come to us for the time being. + + [MRS. JACKMAN drops a curtsey; her eyes stab HORNBLOWERS.] + +JACKMAN. [Heavily, clenching his fists] You're no gentleman! +Don't put temptation in my way, that's all, + +HILLCRIST. [In a low voice] Jackman! + +HORNBLOWER. [Triumphantly] Ye hear that? That's your protegee! +Keep out o' my way, me man, or I'll put the police on to ye for +utterin' threats. + +HILLCRIST. You'd better go now, Jackman. + + [The JACKMANS move to the door.] + +MRS. J. [Turning] Maybe you'll repent it some day, sir. + + [They go out, MRS. HILLCRIST following.] + +HORNBLOWER. We-ell, I'm sorry they're such unreasonable folk. I +never met people with less notion of which side their bread was +buttered. + +HILLCRIST. And I never met anyone so pachydermatous. + +HORNBLOWER. What's that, in Heaven's name? Ye needn' wrap it up in +long words now your good lady's gone. + +HILLCRIST. [With dignity] I'm not going in for a slanging match. +I resent your conduct much too deeply. + +HORNBLOWER. Look here, Hillcrist, I don't object to you personally; +ye seem to me a poor creature that's bound to get left with your +gout and your dignity; but of course ye can make yourself very +disagreeable before ye're done. Now I want to be the movin' spirit +here. I'm full of plans. I'm goin' to stand for Parliament; I'm +goin' to make this a prosperous place. I'm a good-matured man if +you'll treat me as such. Now, you take me on as a neighbour and all +that, and I'll manage without chimneys on the Centry. Is it a +bargain? [He holds out his hand.] + +HILLCRIST. [Ignoring it] I thought you said you didn't keep your +word when it suited you to break it? + +HORNBLOWER. Now, don't get on the high horse. You and me could be +very good friends; but I can be a very nasty enemy. The chimneys +will not look nice from that windie, ye know. + +HILLCRIST. [Deeply angry] Mr. Hornblower, if you think I'll take +your hand after this Jackman business, you're greatly mistaken. You +are proposing that I shall stand in with you while you tyrannise +over the neighbourhood. Please realise that unless you leave those +tenancies undisturbed as you said you would, we don't know each +other. + +HORNBLOWER. Well, that won't trouble me much. Now, ye'd better +think it over; ye've got gout and that makes ye hasty. I tell ye +again: I'm not the man to make an enemy of. Unless ye're friendly, +sure as I stand here I'll ruin the look of your place. + + [The toot of a car is heard.] + +There's my car. I sent Chearlie and his wife in it to buy the +Centry. And make no mistake--he's got it in his packet. It's your +last chance, Hillcrist. I'm not averse to you as a man; I think +ye're the best of the fossils round here; at least, I think ye can +do me the most harm socially. Come now! + + [He holds out his hand again.] + +HILLCRIST. Not if you'd bought the Centry ten times over. Your +ways are not mine, and I'll have nothing to do with you. + +HORNBLOWER. [Very angry] Really! Is that so? Very well. Now +ye're goin' to learn something, an' it's time ye did. D'ye realise +that I'm 'very nearly round ye? [He draws a circle slowly in the +air] I'm at Uphill, the works are here, here's Longmeadow, here's +the Centry that I've just bought, there's only the Common left to +give ye touch with the world. Now between you and the Common +there's the high road. + +I come out on the high road here to your north, and I shall come out +on it there to your west. When I've got me new works up on the +Centry, I shall be makin' a trolley track between the works up to +the road at both ends, so any goods will be running right round ye. +How'll ye like that for a country place? + + [For answer HILLCRIST, who is angry beyond the power of speech, + walks, forgetting to use his stick, up to the French window. + While he stands there, with his back to HORNBLOWER, the door L. + is flung open, and Jim enters, preceding CHARLES, his wife + CHLOE, and ROLF. CHARLES is a goodish-looking, moustached + young man of about twenty-eight, with a white rim to the collar + of his waistcoat, and spats. He has his hand behind CHLOE'S + back, as if to prevent her turning tail. She is rather a + handsome young woman, with dark eyes, full red lips, and a + suspicion of powder, a little under-dressed for the country. + ROLF, mho brings up the rear, is about twenty, with an open + face and stiffish butter-coloured hair. JILL runs over to her + father at the window. She has a bottle.] + +JILL. [Sotto voce] Look, Dodo, I've brought the lot! Isn't it a +treat, dear Papa? And here's the stuff. Hallo! + + [The exclamation is induced by the apprehension that there has + been a row. HILLCRIST gives a stiff little bow, remaining + where he is in the window. JILL, stays close to him, staring + from one to the other, then blocks him off and engages him in + conversation. CHARLES has gone up to his father, who has + remained maliciously still, where he delivered his last speech. + CHLOE and ROLF stand awkwardly waiting between the fireplace + and the door.] + +HORNBLOWER. Well, Chearlie? + +CHARLES. Not got it. + +HORNBLOWER. Not! + +CHARLES. I'd practically got her to say she'd sell at three +thousand five hundred, when that fellow Dawker turned up. + +HORNBLOWER. That bull-terrier of a chap! Why, he was here a while +ago. Oh--ho! So that's it! + +CHARLES. I heard him gallop up. He came straight for the old lady, +and got her away. What he said I don't know; but she came back +looking wiser than an owl; said she'd think it over, thought she had +other views. + +HORNBLOWER. Did ye tell her she might have her price? + +CHARLES. Practically I did. + +HORNBLOWER. Well? + +CHARLES. She thought it would be fairer to put it up to auction. +There were other enquiries. Oh! She's a leery old bird--reminds me +of one of those pictures of Fate, don't you know. + +HORNBLOWER. Auction! Well, if it's not gone we'll get it yet. +That damned little Dawker! I've had a row with Hillcrist. + +CHARLES. I thought so. + + [They are turning cautiously to look at HILLCRIST, when JILL + steps forward.] + +JILL. [Flushed and determined] That's not a bit sporting of you, +Mr. Hornblower. + + [At her words ROLE comes forward too.] + +HORNBLOWER. Ye should hear both sides before ye say that, missy. + +JILL. There isn't another side to turning out the Jackmans after +you'd promised. + +HORNBLOWER. Oh! dear me, yes. They don't matter a row of +gingerbread to the schemes I've got for betterin' this neighbourhood. + +JILL. I had been standing up for you; now I won't. + +HOUNBLOWER. Dear, dear! What'll become of me? + +JILL. I won't say anything about the other thing because I think +it's beneath, dignity to notice it. But to turn poor people out of +their cottages is a shame. + +HORNBLOWER. Hoity me! + +ROLF. [Suddenly] You haven't been doing that, father? + +CHARLES. Shut up, Rolf! + +HORNBLOWER. [Turning on ROLF] Ha! Here's a league o' Youth! My +young whipper-snapper, keep your mouth shut and leave it to your +elders to know what's right. + + [Under the weight of this rejoinder ROLF stands biting his + lips. Then he throws his head up.] + +ROLF. I hate it! + +HORNBLOWER. [With real venom] Oh! Ye hate it? Ye can get out of +my house, then. + +JILL. Free speech, Mr. Hornblower; don't be violent. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye're right, young lady. Ye can stay in my house, +Rolf, and learn manners. Come, Chearlie! + +JILL. [Quite softly] Mr. Hornblower! + +HILLCRIST. [From the window] Jill! + +JILL. [Impatiently] Well, what's the good of it? Life's too short +for rows, and too jolly! + +ROLF. Bravo! + +HORNBLOWER. [Who has shown a sign of weakening] Now, look here! +I will not have revolt in my family. Ye'll just have to learn that +a man who's worked as I have, who's risen as I have, and who knows +the world, is the proper judge of what's right and wrong. I'll +answer to God for me actions, and not to you young people. + +JILL. Poor God! + +HORNBLOWER. [Genuinely shocked] Ye blasphemous young thing! [To +ROLF] And ye're just as bad, ye young freethinker. I won't have +it. + +HILLCRIST. [Who has come down, Right] Jill, I wish you would +kindly not talk. + +JILL. I can't help it. + +CHARLES. [Putting his arm through HORNBLOWER'S] Come along, +father! Deeds, not words. + +HORNBLOWER. Ay! Deeds! + + [MRS. HILLCRIST and DAWKERS have entered by the French window.] + +MRS. H. Quite right! + + [They all turn and look at her.] + +HORNBLOWER. Ah! So ye put your dog on to it. [He throws out his +finger at DAWKERS] Very smart, that--I give ye credit. + +MRS. H. [Pointing to CHLOE, who has stood by herself, forgotten and +uncomfortable throughout the scene] +May I ask who this lady is? + + [CHLOE turns round startled, and her vanity bag slips down her + dress to the floor.] + +HORNBLOWER. No, ma'am, ye may not, for ye know perfectly well. + +JILL. I brought her in, mother [She moves to CHLOE's side.] + +MRS. H. Will you take her out again, then. + +HILLCRIST. Amy, have the goodness to remember---- + +MRS. H. That this is my house so far as ladies are concerned. + +JILL. Mother! + + [She looks astonished at CHLOE, who, about to speak, does not, + passing her eyes, with a queer, half-scarred expression, from + MRS. HILLCRIST to DAWKER.] + + [To CHLOE] I'm awfully sorry. Come on! + + [They go out, Left. ROLF hurries after them.] + +CHARLES. You've insulted my wife. Why? What do you mean by it? + + [MRS. HILLCRIST simply smiles.] + +HILLCRIST. I apologise. I regret extremely. There is no reason +why the ladies of your family or of mine should be involved in our +quarrel. For Heaven's sake, let's fight like gentlemen. + +HORNBLOWER. Catchwords--sneers! No; we'll play what ye call a skin +game, Hillcrist, without gloves on; we won't spare each other. Ye +look out for yourselves, for, begod, after this morning I mean +business. And as for you, Dawker, ye sly dog, ye think yourself +very clever; but I'll have the Centry yet. Come, Chearlie! + + [They go out, passing JILL, who is coming in again, in the + doorway.] + +HILLCRIST. Well, Dawker? + +DAWKER. [Grinning] Safe for the moment. The old lady'll put it up +to auction. Couldn't get her to budge from that. Says she don't +want to be unneighbourly to either. But, if you ask me, it's money +she smells! + +JILL. [Advancing] Now, mother + +MRS. H. Well? + +JILL. Why did you insult her? + +MRS. H. I think I only asked you to take her out. + +JILL. Why? Even if she is Old Combustion's daughter-in-law? + +MRS. H. My dear Jill, allow me to judge the sort of acquaintances I +wish to make. [She looks at DAWKER.] + +JILL. She's all right. Lots of women powder and touch up their +lips nowadays. I think she's rather a good sort; she was awfully +upset. + +MRS. H. Too upset. + +JILL. Oh! don't be so mysterious, mother. If you know something, +do spit it out! + +MRS. H. Do you wish me to--er--"spit it out," Jack? + +HILLCRIST. Dawker, if you don't mind---- + + [DAWKER, with a nod, passes away out of the French window.] + +Jill, be respectful, and don't talk like a bargee. + +JILL. It's no good, Dodo. It made me ashamed. It's just as--as +caddish to insult people who haven't said a word, in your own house, +as it is to be--old Hornblower. + +MRS. H. You don't know what you're talking about. + +HILLCRIST. What's the matter with young Mrs. Hornblower? + +MRS. H. Excuse me, I shall keep my thoughts to myself at present. + + [She looks coldly at JILL, and goes out through the French + window.] + +HILLCRIST. You've thoroughly upset your mother, Jill. + +JILL. It's something Dawker's told her; I saw them. I don't like +Dawker, father, he's so common. + +HILLCRIST. My dear, we can't all be uncommon. He's got lots of go, +You must apologise to your mother. + +JILL. [Shaking-her clubbed hair] They'll make you do things you +don't approve of, Dodo, if you don't look out. Mother's fearfully +bitter when she gets her knife in. If old Hornblower's disgusting, +it's no reason we should be. + +HILLCRIST. So you think I'm capable--that's nice, Jill! + +JILL. No, no, darling! I only want to warn you solemnly that +mother'll tell you you're fighting fair, no matter what she and +Dawker do. + +HILLCRIST. [Smiling] Jill, I don't think I ever saw you so +serious. + +JILL. No. Because--[She swallows a lump in her throat] Well--I +was just beginning to enjoy, myself; and now--everything's going to +be bitter and beastly, with mother in that mood. That horrible old +man! Oh, Dodo! Don't let them make you horrid! You're such a +darling. How's your gout, ducky? + +HILLCRIST. Better; lot better. + +JILL. There, you see! That shows! It's going to be half-interesting +for you, but not for--us. + +HILLCRIST. Look here, Jill--is there anything between you and young +what's-his-name--Rolf? + +JILL. [Biting her lip] No. But--now it's all spoiled. + +HILLCRIST. You can't expect me to regret that. + +JILL. I don't mean any tosh about love's young dream; but I do like +being friends. I want to enjoy things, Dodo, and you can't do that +when everybody's on the hate. You're going to wallow in it, and so +shall I--oh! I know I shall!--we shall all wallow, and think of +nothing but "one for his nob." + +HILLCRIST. Aren't you fond of your home? + +JILL. Of course. I love it. + +HILLCRIST. Well, you won't be able to live in it unless we stop +that ruffian. Chimneys and smoke, the trees cut down, piles of +pots. Every kind of abomination. There! [He points] Imagine! +[He points through the French window, as if he could see those +chimneys rising and marring the beauty of the fields] I was born +here, and my father, and his, and his, and his. They loved those +fields, and those old trees. And this barbarian, with his +"improvement" schemes, forsooth! I learned to ride in the Centry +meadows--prettiest spring meadows in the world; I've climbed every +tree there. Why my father ever sold----! But who could have +imagined this? And come at a bad moment, when money's scarce. + +JILL. [Cuddling his arm] Dodo! + +HILLCRIST. Yes. But you don't love the place as I do, Jill. You +youngsters don't love anything, I sometimes think. + +JILL. I do, Dodo, I do! + +HILLCRIST. You've got it all before you. But you may live your +life and never find anything so good and so beautiful as this old +home. I'm not going to have it spoiled without a fight. + + [Conscious of batting betrayed Sentiment, he walks out at the + French window, passing away to the right. JILL following to + the window, looks. Then throwing back her head, she clasps her + hands behind it.] + +JILL. Oh--oh-oh! + + [A voice behind her says, "JILL!" She turns and starts back, + leaning against the right lintel of the window. ROLF appears + outside the window from Left.] + +Who goes there? + +ROLE. [Buttressed against the Left lintel] Enemy--after Chloe's +bag. + +JILL. Pass, enemy! And all's ill! + + [ROLF passes through the window, and retrieves the vanity bag + from the floor where CHLOE dropped it, then again takes his + stand against the Left lintel of the French window.] + +ROLF. It's not going to make any difference, is it? + +JILL. You know it is. + +ROLF. Sins of the fathers. + +JILL. Unto the third and fourth generations. What sin has my +father committed? + +ROLF. None, in a way; only, I've often told you I don't see why you +should treat us as outsiders. We don't like it. + +JILL. Well, you shouldn't be, then; I mean, he shouldn't be. + +ROLF. Father's just as human as your father; he's wrapped up in us, +and all his "getting on" is for us. Would you like to be treated as +your mother treated Chloe? Your mother's set the stroke for the +other big-wigs about here; nobody calls on Chloe. And why not? Why +not? I think it's contemptible to bar people just because they're +new, as you call it, and have to make their position instead of +having it left them. + +JILL. It's not because they're new, it's because--if your father +behaved like a gentleman, he'd be treated like one. + +ROLF. Would he? I don't believe it. My father's a very able man; +he thinks he's entitled to have influence here. Well, everybody +tries to keep him down. Oh! yes, they do. That makes him mad and +more determined than ever to get his way. You ought to be just, +Jill. + +JILL. I am just. + +ROLF. No, you're not. Besides, what's it got to do with Charlie +and Chloe? Chloe's particularly harmless. It's pretty sickening +for her. Father didn't expect people to call until Charlie married, +but since---- + +JILL. I think it's all very petty. + +ROLF. It is--a dog-in-the-manger business; I did think you were +above it. + +JILL. How would you like to have your home spoiled? + +ROLE. I'm not going to argue. Only things don't stand still. +Homes aren't any more proof against change than anything else. + +JILL. All right! You come and try and take ours. + +ROLF. We don't want to take your home. + +JILL. Like the Jackmans'? + +ROLF. All right. I see you're hopelessly prejudiced. + + [He turns to go.] + +JILL. [Just as he is vanishing--softly] Enemy? + +ROLF. [Turning] Yes, enemy. + +JILL. Before the battle--let's shake hands. + + [They move from the lintels and grasp each other's hands in the + centre of the French window.] + + + CURTAIN + + + + +ACT II + + +SCENE I + + A billiard room in a provincial hotel, where things are bought + and sold. The scene is set well forward, and is not very + broad; it represents the auctioneer's end of the room, having, + rather to stage Left, a narrow table with two chairs facing the + audience, where the auctioneer will sit and stand. The table, + which is set forward to the footlights, is littered with + green-covered particulars of sale. The audience are in effect + public and bidders. There is a door on the Left, level with the + table. Along the back wall, behind the table, are two raised + benches with two steps up to them, such as billiard rooms often + have, divided by a door in the middle of a wall, which is + panelled in oak. Late September sunlight is coming from a + skylight (not visible) on to these seats. The stage is empty + when the curtain goes up, but DAWKERS, and MRS. HILLCRIST are + just entering through the door at the back. + +DAWKER. Be out of their way here, ma'am. See old Hornblower with +Chearlie? + + [He points down to the audience.] + +MRS. H. It begins at three, doesn't it? + +DAWKER. They won't be over-punctual; there's only the Centry +selling. There's young Mrs. Hornblower with the other boy-- +[Pointing] over at the entrance. I've got that chap I told you of +down from town. + +MRS. H. Ah! make sure quite of her, Dawker. Any mistake would be +fatal. + +DAWKER. [Nodding] That's right, ma'am. Lot of peopled--always +spare time to watch an auction--ever remark that? The Duke's +agent's here; shouldn't be surprised if he chipped in. + +MRS. H. Where did you leave my husband? + +DAWKER. With Miss Jill, in the courtyard. He's coming to you. In +case I miss him; tell him when I reach his limit to blow his nose if +he wants me to go on; when he blows it a second time, I'll stop for +good. Hope we shan't get to that. Old Hornblower doesn't throw his +money away. + +MRS. H. What limit did you settle? + +DAWKER. Six thousand! + +MRS. H. That's a fearful price. Well, good luck to you, Dawker! + +DAWKER. Good luck, ma'am. I'll go and see to that little matter of +Mrs. Chloe. Never fear, we'll do them is somehow. + + [He winks, lays his finger on the side of his nose, and goes + out at the door.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST mounts the two steps, sits down Right of the + door, and puts up a pair of long-handled glasses. Through the + door behind her come CHLOE and ROLF. She makes a sign for him + to go, and shuts the door.] + +CHLOE. [At the foot of the steps in the gangway--with a slightly +common accent] Mrs. Hillcrist! + +MRS. H. [Not quite starting] I beg your pardon? + +CHLOE. [Again] Mrs. Hillcrist---- + +MRS. H. Well? + +CHLOE. I never did you any harm. + +MRS. H. Did I ever say you did? + +CHLOE. No; but you act as if I had. + +MRS. H. I'm not aware that I've acted at all--as yet. You are +nothing to me, except as one of your family. + +CHLOE. 'Tisn't I that wants to spoil your home. + +MRS. H. Stop them then. I see your husband down there with his +father. + +CHLOE. I--I have tried. + +MRS. H. [Looking at her] Oh! I suppose such men don't pay +attention to what women ask them. + +CHLOE. [With a flash of spirit] I'm fond of my husband. I---- + +MRS. H. [Looking at her steadily] I don't quite know why you spoke +to me. + +CHLOE. [With a sort of pathetic sullenness] I only thought perhaps +you'd like to treat me as a human being. + +MRS. H. Really, if you don't mind, I should like to be left alone +just now. + +CHLOE. [Unhappily acquiescent] Certainly! I'll go to the other +end. + + [She moves to the Left, mounts the steps and sits down.] + + [ROLF, looking in through the door, and seeing where she is, + joins her. MRS. HILLCRIST resettles herself a little further + in on the Right.] + +ROLF. [Bending over to CHLOE, after a glance at MRS. HILLCRIST.] +Are you all right? + +CHLOE. It's awfully hot. + + [She fans herself wide the particulars of sale.] + +ROLF. There's Dawker. I hate that chap! + +CHLOE. Where? + +ROLF. Down there; see? + + [He points down to stage Right of the room.] + +CHLOE. [Drawing back in her seat with a little gasp] Oh! + +ROLF. [Not noticing] Who's that next him, looking up here? + +CHLOE. I don't know. + + [She has raised her auction programme suddenly, and sits + fanning herself, carefully screening her face.] + +ROLE. [Looking at her] Don't you feel well? Shall I get you some +water? [He gets up at her nod.] + + [As he reaches the door, HILLCRIST and JILL come in. HILLCRIST + passes him abstractedly with a nod, and sits down beside his + wife.] + +JILL. [To ROLF] Come to see us turned out? + +ROLF. [Emphatically] No. I'm looking after Chloe; she's not well. + +JILL. [Glancing at her] Sorry. She needn't have come, I suppose? + [RALF deigns no answer, and goes out.] + + [JILL glances at CHLOE, then at her parents talking in low + voices, and sits down next her father, who makes room for her.] + +MRS. H. Can Dawker see you there, Jack? + + [HILLCRIST nods.] + +What's the time? + +HILLCRIST. Three minutes to three. + +JILL. Don't you feel beastly all down the backs of your legs. +Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Yes. + +JILL. Do you, mother? + +MRS. H. No. + +JILL. A wagon of old Hornblower's pots passed while we were in the +yard. It's an omen. + +MRS. H. Don't be foolish, Jill. + +JILL. Look at the old brute! Dodo, hold my hand. + +MRS. H. Make sure you've got a handkerchief, Jack. + +HILLCRIST. I can't go beyond the six thousand; I shall have to +raise every penny on mortgage as it is. The estate simply won't +stand more, Amy. + + [He feels in his breast pocket, and pulls up the edge of his + handkerchief.] + +JILL. Oh! Look! There's Miss Mullins, at the back; just come in. +Isn't she a spidery old chip? + +MRS. H. Come to gloat. Really, I think her not accepting your +offer is disgusting. Her impartiality is all humbug. + +HILLCRIST. Can't blame her for getting what she can--it's human +nature. Phew! I used to feel like this before a 'viva voce'. +Who's that next to Dawker? + +JILL. What a fish! + +MRS. H. [To herself] Ah! yes. + + [Her eyes slide round at CHLOE, silting motionless and rather + sunk in her seat, slowly fanning herself with they particulars + of the sale. Jack, go and offer her my smelling salts.] + +HILLCRIST. [Taking the salts] Thank God for a human touch! + +MRS. H. [Taken aback] Oh! + +JILL. [With a quick look at her mother, snatching the salts] I +will. [She goes over to CHLOE with the salts] Have a sniff; you +look awfully white. + +CHLOE. [Looking up, startled] Oh! no thanks. I'm all right. + +JILL. No, do! You must. [CHLOE takes them.] + +JILL. D'you mind letting me see that a minute? + + [She takes the particulars of the sale and studies it, but + CHLOE has buried the lower part of her face in her hand and the + smelling salts bottle.] + +Beastly hot, isn't it? You'd better keep that. + +CHLOE. [Her dark eyes wandering and uneasy] Rolf's getting me some +water. + +JILL. Why do you stay? You didn't want to come, did you? + + [CHLOE shakes her head.] + +All right! Here's your water. + + [She hands back the particulars and slides over to her seat, + passing ROLF in the gangway, with her chin well up.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST, who has watched CHLOE and JILL and DAWKER, and + his friend, makes an enquiring movement with her hand, but gets + a disappointing answer.] + +JILL. What's the time, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. [Looking at his watch] Three minutes past. + +JILL. [Sighing] Oh, hell! + +HILLCRIST. Jill! + +JILL. Sorry, Dodo. I was only thinking. Look! Here he is! +Phew!--isn't he----? + +MRS. H. 'Sh! + + The AUCTIONEER comes in Left and goes to the table. He is a + square, short, brown-faced, common looking man, with clipped + grey hair fitting him like a cap, and a clipped grey moustache. + His lids come down over his quick eyes, till he can see you + very sharply, and you can hardly see that he can see you. He + can break into a smile at any moment, which has no connection + with him, as it were. By a certain hurt look, however, when + bidding is slow, he discloses that he is not merely an + auctioneer, but has in him elements of the human being. He can + wink with anyone, and is dressed in a snug-brown suit, with a + perfectly unbuttoned waistcoat, a low, turned down collar, and + small black and white sailor knot tie. While he is settling + his papers, the HILLCRISTS settle themselves tensely. CHLOE + has drunk her water and leaned back again, with the smelling + salts to her nose. ROLF leans forward in the seat beside her, + looking sideways at JILL. A SOLICITOR, with a grey beard, has + joined the AUCTIONEER, at his table. + +AUCTIONEER. [Tapping the table] Sorry to disappoint you, +gentlemen, but I've only one property to offer you to-day, No. 1, +The Centry, Deepwater. The second on the particulars has been +withdrawn. The third that's Bidcot, desirable freehold mansion and +farmlands in the Parish of Kenway--we shall have to deal with next +week. I shall be happy to sell it you then with out reservation. +[He looks again through the particulars in his hand, giving the +audience time to readjust themselves to his statements] Now, +gen'lemen, as I say, I've only the one property to sell. Freehold +No. 1--all that very desirable corn and stock-rearing and parklike +residential land known as the Centry, Deepwater, unique property an +A.1. chance to an A.1. audience. [With his smile] Ought to make +the price of the three we thought we had. Now you won't mind +listening to the conditions of sale; Mr. Blinkard'll read 'em, and +they won't wirry you, they're very short. + + [He sits down and gives two little tape on the table.] + + [The SOLICITOR rises and reads the conditions of sale in a + voice which no one practically can hear. Just as he begins to + read these conditions of sale, CHARLES HORNBLOWER enters at + back. He stands a moment, glancing round at the HILLCRIST and + twirling his moustache, then moves along to his wife and + touches her.] + +CHARLES. Chloe, aren't you well? + + [In the start which she gives, her face is fully revealed to + the audience.] + +CHARLES. Come along, out of the way of these people. + + [He jerks his head towards the HILLCRISTS. CHLOE gives a swift + look down to the stage Right of the audience.] + +CHLOE. No; I'm all right; it's hotter there. + +CHARLES. [To ROLF] Well, look after her--I must go back. + + [ROLF node. CHARLES, slides bank to the door, with a glance at + the HILLCRISTS, of whom MRS. HILLCRIST has been watching like a + lynx. He goes out, just as the SOLICITOR, finishing, sits + down.] + +AUCTIONEER. [Rising and tapping] Now, gen'lemen, it's not often a +piece of land like this comes into the market. What's that? [To a +friend in front of him] No better land in Deepwater--that's right, +Mr. Spicer. I know the village well, and a charming place it is; +perfect locality, to be sure. Now I don't want to wirry you by +singing the praises of this property; there it is--well-watered, +nicely timbered--no reservation of the timber, gen'lemen--no tenancy +to hold you up; free to do what you like with it to-morrow. You've +got a jewel of a site there, too; perfect position for a house. It +lies between the Duke's and Squire Hillcrist's--an emerald isle. +[With his smile] No allusion to Ireland, gen'lemen--perfect peace +in the Centry. Nothing like it in the county--a gen'leman's site, +and you don't get that offered you every day. [He looks down +towards HORNBLOWER, stage Left] Carries the mineral rights, and as +you know, perhaps, there's the very valuable Deepwater clay there. +What am I to start it at? Can I say three thousand? Well, anything +you like to give me. I'm sot particular. Come now, you've got more +time than me, I expect. Two hundred acres of first-rate grazin' and +cornland, with a site for a residence unequalled in the county; and +all the possibilities! Well, what shall I say? + + [Bid from SPICER.] + +Two thousand? [With his smile] That won't hurt you, Mr. Spicer. +Why, it's worth that to overlook the Duke. For two thousand? + + [Bid from HORNBLOWER, stage Left.] + +And five. Thank you, sir. Two thousand five hundred bid. + + [To a friend just below him.] + +Come, Mr. Sandy, don't scratch your head over it. + + [Bid from DAWKER, Stage Right.] + +And five. Three thousand bid for this desirable property. Why, +you'd think it wasn't desirable. Come along, gen'lemen. A little +spirit. + + [A alight pause.] + +JILL. Why can't I see the bids, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. The last was Dawker's. + +AUCTIONEER. For three thousand. [HORNBLOWER] Three thousand five +hundred? May I say--four? [A bid from the centre] No, I'm not +particular; I'll take hundreds. Three thousand six hundred bid. +[HORNBLOWER] And seven. Three thousand seven hundred, and---- + + [He pauses, quartering the audience.] + +JILL. Who was that, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Hornblower. It's the Duke in the centre. + +AUCTIONEER. Come, gen'lemen, don't keep me all day. Four thousand +may I say? [DAWKER] Thank you. We're beginning. And one? [A bid +from the centre] Four thousand one hundred. [HORNBLOWER] Four +thousand two hundred. May I have yours, sir? [To DAWKER] And +three. Four thousand three hundred bid. No such site in the +county, gen'lemen. I'm going to sell this land for what it's worth. +You can't bid too much for me. [He smiles] [HORNBLOWER] Four +thousand five hundred bid. [Bid from the centre] And six. [DAWKER] +And seven. [HORNBLOWER] And eight. Nine, may I say? [But the +centre has dried up] [DAWKER] And nine. [HORNBLOWER] Five +thousand. Five thousand bid. That's better; there's some spirit in +it. For five thousand. + + [He pauses while he speak& to the SOLICITOR] + +HILLCRIST. It's a duel now. + +AUCTIONEER. Now, gen'lemen, I'm not going to give this property +away. Five thousand bid. [DAWKER] And one. [HORNBLOWER] And two. +[DAWKER] And three. Five thousand three hundred bid. And five, +did you say, sir? [HORNBLOWER] Five thousand five hundred bid. + + [He looks at hip particulars.] + +JILL. [Rather agonised] Enemy, Dodo. + +AUCTIONEER. This chance may never come again. + + "How you'll regret it + If you don't get it," + +as the poet says. May I say five thousand six hundred, sir? +[DAWKER] Five thousand six hundred bid. [HORNBLOWER] And seven. +[DAWKER] And eight. For five thousand eight hundred pounds. We're +gettin' on, but we haven't got the value yet. + +[A slight pause, while he wipes his brow at the success of his own +efforts.] + +JILL. Us, Dodo? + + [HILLCRIST nods. JILL looks over at ROLF, whose face is + grimly set. CHLOE has never moved. MRS. HILLCRIST whispers to + her husband.] + +AUCTIONEER. Five thousand eight hundred bid. For five thousand +eight hundred. Come along, gen'lemen, come along. We're not +beaten. Thank you, sir. [HORNBLOWER] Five thousand nine hundred. +And--? [DAWKER] Six thousand. Six thousand bid. Six thousand +bid. For six thousand! The Centry--most desirable spot in the +county--going for the low price of six thousand. + +HILLCRIST. [Muttering] Low! Heavens! + +AUCTIONEER. Any advance on six thousand? Come, gen'lemen, we +haven't dried up? A little spirit. Six thousand? For six +thousand? For six thousand pounds? Very well, I'm selling. For +six thousand once--[He taps] For six thousand twice--[He taps]. + +JILL. [Low] Oh! we've got it! + +AUCTIONEER. And one, sir? [HORNBLOWER] Six thousand one hundred +bid. + + [The SOLICITOR touches his arm and says something, to which the + AUCTIONEER responds with a nod.] + +MRS. H. Blow your nose, Jack. + + [HILLCRIST blows his nose.] + +AUCTIONEER. For six thousand one hundred. [DAWKER] And two. +Thank you. [HORNBLOWER] And three. For six thousand three +hundred. [DAWKER] And four. For six thousand four hundred pounds. +This coveted property. For six thousand four hundred pounds. Why, +it's giving it away, gen'lemen. [A pause.] + +MRS. H. Giving! + +AUCTIONEER. Six thousand four hundred bid. [HORNBLOWER] And five. +[DAWKER] And six. [HORNBLOWER] And seven. [DAWKER] And eight. + + [A pause, during which, through the door Left, someone beckons + to the SOLICITOR, who rises and confers.] + +HILLCRIST. [Muttering] I've done if that doesn't get it. + +AUCTIONEER. For six thousand eight hundred. For six thousand eight +hundred-once--[He taps] twice--[He tape] For the last time. This +dominating site. [HORNBLOWER] And nine. Thank you. For six +thousand nine hundred. + + [HILLCRIST has taken out his handkerchief.] + +JILL. Oh! Dodo! + +MRS. H. [Quivering] Don't give in! + +AUCTIONEER. Seven thousand may I say? [DAWKER] Seven thousand. + +MRS. H. [Whispers] Keep it down; don't show him. + +AUCTIONEER. For seven-thousand--going for seven thousand--once-- +[Taps] twice [Taps] [HORNBLOWER] And one. Thank you, sir. + + [HILLCRIST blows his nose. JILL, with a choke, leans back in + her seat and folds her arms tightly on her chest. MRS. + HILLCRIST passes her handkerchief over her lips, sitting + perfectly still. HILLCRIST, too, is motionless.] + + [The AUCTIONEER, has paused, and is talking to the SOLICITOR, + who has returned to his seat.] + +MRS. H. Oh! Jack. + +JILL. Stick it, Dodo; stick it! + +AUCTIONEER. Now, gen'lemen, I have a bid of seven thousand one +hundred for the Centry. And I'm instructed to sell if I can't get +more. It's a fair price, but not a big price. [To his friend MR. +SPICER] A thumpin' price? [With his smile] Well, you're a judge +of thumpin', I admit. Now, who'll give me seven thousand two +hundred? What, no one? Well, I can't make you, gen'lemen. For +seven thousand one hundred. Once--[Taps] Twice--[Taps]. + + [JILL utters a little groan.] + +HILLCRIST. [Suddenly, in a queer voice] Two. + +AUCTIONEER. [Turning with surprise and looking up to receive +HILLCRIST'S nod] Thank you, sir. And two. Seven thousand two +hundred. [He screws himself round so as to command both HILLCRIST +and HORNBLOWER] May I have yours, sir? [HORNBLOWER] And three. +[HILLCRIST] And four. Seven thousand four hundred. For seven +thousand four hundred. [HORNBLOWER] Five. [HILLCRIST] Six. For +seven thousand six hundred. [A pause] Well, gen'lemen, this is. +better, but a record property shid fetch a record price. The +possibilities are enormous. [HORNBLOWER] Eight thousand did you +say, sir? Eight thousand. Going for eight thousand pounds. +[HILLCRIST] And one. [HORNBLOWER] And two. [HILLCRIST] And +three. [HORNBLOWER] And four. [HILLCRIST] And five. For eight +thousand five hundred. A wonderful property for eight thousand five +hundred. + +[He wipes his brow.] + +JILL. [Whispering] Oh, Dodo! + +MRS. H. That's enough, Jack, we must stop some time. + +AUCTIONEER. For eight thousand five hundred. Once--[Taps]--twice-- +[Taps] [HORNBLOWER] Six hundred. [HILLCRIST] Seven. May I have +yours, sir? [HORNBLOWER] Eight. + +HILLCRIST. Nine thousand. + + [MRS. HILLCRIST looks at him, biting her lips, but he is quite + absorbed.] + +AUCTIONEER. Nine thousand for this astounding property. Why, the +Duke would pay that if he realised he'd be overlooked. Now, Sir? +[To HORNBLOWER. No response]. Just a little raise on that. [No +response.] For nine thousand. The Centry, Deepwater, for nine +thousand. Once--[Taps] Twice----[Taps]. + +JILL. [Under her breath] Ours! + +A VOICE. [From far back in the centre] And five hundred. + +AUCTIONEER. [Surprised and throwing out his arms towards the voice] +And five hundred. For nine thousand five hundred. May I have +yours, sir? [He looks at HORNBLOWER. No response.] + + [The SOLICITOR speaks to him. MRS. H. [Whispering] It must + be the Duke again.] + +HILLCRIST. [Passing his hand over his brow] That's stopped him, +anyway. + +AUCTIONEER. [Looking at HILLCRIST] For nine thousand five hundred? +[HILLCRIST shakes his head.] Once more. The Centry, Deepwater, for +nine thousand five hundred. Once--[Taps] Twice--[Taps] [He pauses +and looks again at HORNBLOWER and HILLCRIST] For the last time--at +nine thousand five hundred. [Taps] [With a look towards the +bidder] Mr. Smalley. Well! [With great satisfaction] That's +that! No more to-day, gen'lemen. + + [The AUCTIONEER and SOLICITOR busy themselves. The room begins + to empty.] + +MRS. H. Smalley? Smalley? Is that the Duke's agent? Jack! + +HILLCRIST. [Coming out of a sort of coma, after the excitement he +has been going through] What! What! + +JILL. Oh, Dodo! How splendidly you stuck it! + +HILLCRIST. Phew! What a squeak! I was clean out of my depth. A +mercy the Duke chipped in again. + +MRS. H. [Looking at ROLF and CHLOE, who are standing up as if about +to go] Take care; they can hear you. Find DAWKER, Jack. + + [Below, the AUCTIONEER and SOLICITOR take up their papers, and + move out Left.] + + [HILLCRIST stretches himself, standing up, as if to throw off + the strain. The door behind is opened, and HORNBLOWER + appears.] + +HORNBLOWER. Ye ran me up a pretty price. Ye bid very pluckily, +Hillcrist. But ye didn't quite get my measure. + +HILLCRIST. Oh! It was my nine thousand the Duke capped. Thank +God, the Centry's gone to a gentleman! + +HORNBLOWER. The Duke? [He laughs] No, the Gentry's not gone to a +gentleman, nor to a fool. It's gone to me. + +HILLCRIST. What! + +HOUNBLOWER. I'm sorry for ye; ye're not fit to manage these things. +Well, it's a monstrous price, and I've had to pay it because of your +obstinacy. I shan't forget that when I come to build. + +HILLCRIST. D'you mean to say that bid was for you? + +HORNBLOWER. Of course I do. I told ye I was a bad man to be up +against. Perhaps ye'll believe me now. + +HILLCRIST. A dastardly trick! + +HORNBLOWER. [With venom] What did ye call it--a skin game? +Remember we're playin' a skin game, Hillcrist. + +HILLCRIST. [Clenching his fists] If we were younger men---- + +HORNBLOWER. Ay! 'Twouldn't Look pretty for us to be at fisticuffs. +We'll leave the fightin' to the young ones. [He glances at ROLF and +JILL; suddenly throwing out his finger at ROLF] No makin' up to +that young woman! I've watched ye. And as for you, missy, you +leave my boy alone. + +JILL. [With suppressed passion] Dodo, may I spit in his eye or +something? + +HILLCRIST. Sit down. + + [JILL sits down. He stands between her and HORNBLOWER.] + + [Yu've won this round, sir, by a foul blow. We shall see + whether you can take any advantage of it. I believe the law + can stop you ruining my property.] + +HORNBLOWER. Make your mind easy; it can't. I've got ye in a noose, +and I'm goin' to hang ye. + +MRS. H. [Suddenly] Mr. Hornblower, as you fight foul--so shall we. + +HILLCRIST. Amy! + +MRS. H. [Paying no attention] And it will not be foul play towards +you and yours. You are outside the pale. + +HORNBLOWER. That's just where I am, outside your pale all round ye. +Ye're not long for Deepwater, ma'am. Make your dispositions to go; +ye'll be out in six months, I prophesy. And good riddance to the +neighbourhood. [They are all down on the level now.] + +CHLOE. [Suddenly coming closer to MRS. HILLCRIST] Here are your +salts, thank you. Father, can't you----? + +HORNBLOWER. [Surprised] Can't I what? + +CHLOE. Can't you come to an arrangement? + +MRS. H. Just so, Mr. Hornblower. Can't you? + +HORNBLOWER. [Looking from one to the other] As we're speakin' out, +ma'am, it's your behaviour to my daughter-in-law--who's as good as +you--and better, to my thinking--that's more than half the reason +why I've bought this property. Ye've fair got my dander up. Now +it's no use to bandy words. It's very forgivin' of ye, Chloe, but +come along! + +MRS. H. Quite seriously, Mr. Hornblower, you had better come to an +arrangement. + +HORNBLOWER. Mrs. Hillcrist, ladies should keep to their own +business. + +MRS. H. I will. + +HILLCRIST. Amy, do leave it to us men. You young man [He speaks to +ROLF] do you support your father's trick this afternoon? + + [JILL looks round at ROLF, who tries to speak, when HORNBLOWER + breaks in.] + +HORNBLOWER. My trick? And what dye call it, to try and put me own +son against me? + +JILL. [To ROLF] Well? + +ROLF. I don't, but---- + +HORNBLOWER. Trick? Ye young cub, be quiet. Mr. Hillcrist had an +agent bid for him--I had an agent bid for me. Only his agent bid at +the beginnin', an' mine bid at the end. What's the trick in that? + +[He laughs.] + +HILLCRIST. Hopeless; we're in different worlds. + +HORNBLOWER. I wish to God we were! Come you, Chloe. And you, +Rolf, you follow. In six months I'll have those chimneys up, and me +lorries runnin' round ye. + +MRS. H. Mr. Hornblower, if you build---- + +HORNBLOWER. [Looking at MRS. HILLCRIST] Ye know--it's laughable. +Ye make me pay nine thousand five hundred for a bit o' land not +worth four, and ye think I'm not to get back on ye. I'm goin' on +with as little consideration as if ye were a family of blackbeetles. +Good afternoon! + +ROLF. Father! + +JILL. Oh, Dodo! He's obscene. + +HILLCRIST. Mr. Hornblower, my compliments. + + [HORNBLOWER with a stare at HILLCRIST'S half-smiling face, + takes CHLOE'S arm, and half drags her towards the door on the + Left. But there, in the opened doorway, are standing DAWKER + and a STRANGER. They move just out of the way of the exit, + looking at CHLOE, who sways and very nearly falls.] + +HORNBLOWER. Why! Chloe! What's the matter? + +CHLOE. I don't know; I'm not well to-day. + + [She pulls herself together with a great, effort.] + +MRS. H. [Who has exchanged a nod with DAWKER and the STRANGER] Mr. +Hornblower, you build at your peril. I warn you. + +HORNBLOWER. [Turning round to speak] Ye think yourself very cool +and very smart. But I doubt this is the first time ye've been up +against realities. Now, I've been up against them all my life. +Don't talk to me, ma'am, about peril and that sort of nonsense; it +makes no impression. Your husband called me pachydermatous. I +don't know Greek, and Latin, and all that, but I've looked it out in +the dictionary, and I find it means thick-skinned. And I'm none +the worse for that when I have to deal with folk like you. Good +afternoon. + + [He draws CHLOE forward, and they pass through the door, + followed quickly by ROLF.] + +MRS. H. Thank you; Dawker. + + [She moves up to DAWKER and the STRANGER, Left, and they + talk.] + +JILL. Dodo! It's awful! + +HILLCRIST. Well, there's nothing for it now but to smile and pay +up. Poor old home! It shall be his wash-pot. Over the Centry will +he cast his shoe. By Gad, Jill, I could cry! + +JILL. [Pointing] Look! Chloe's sitting down. She nearly fainted +just now. It's something to do with Dawker, Dodo, and that man with +him. Look at mother! Ask them! + +HILLCRIST. Dawker! + + [DAWKER comes to him, followed by MRS. HILLCRIST.] + +What's the mystery about young Mrs. Hornblower? + +DAWKER. No mystery. + +HILLCRIST. Well, what is it? + +MRS. H. You'd better not ask. + +HILLCRIST. I wish to know. + +MRS. H. Jill, go out and wait for us. + +JILL. Nonsense, mother! + +MRS. H. It's not for a girl to hear. + +JILL. Bosh! I read the papers every day. + +DAWKER. It's nothin' worse than you get there, anyway. + +MRS. H. Do you wish your daughter---- + +JILL. It's ridiculous, Dodo; you'd think I was mother at my age. + +MRS. H. I was not so proud of my knowledge. + +JILL. No, but you had it, dear. + +HILLCRIST. What is it----what is it? Come over here, Dawker. + + [DAWKER goes to him, Right, and speaks in a low voice.] + +What! [Again DAWKER speaks in, a low voice.] + +Good God! + +MRS. H. Exactly! + +JILL. Poor thing--whatever it is! + +MRS. H. Poor thing? + +JILL. What went before, mother? + +MRS. H. It's what's coming after that matters; luckily. + +HILLCRIST. How do you know this? + +DAWKER. My friend here [He points to the STRANGER] was one of the +agents. + +HILLCRIST. It's shocking. I'm sorry I heard it. + +MRS. H. I told you not to. + +HILLCRIST. Ask your friend to come here. + + [DAWKER beckons, and the STRANGER joins the group.] + +Are you sure of what you've said, sir? + +STRANGER. Perfectly. I remember her quite well; her name then +was---- + +HILLCRIST. I don't want to know, thank you. I'm truly sorry. I +wouldn't wish the knowledge of that about his womenfolk to my worst +enemy. This mustn't be spoken of. [JILL hugs his arm.] + +MRS. H. It will not be if Mr. Hornblower is wise. If he is not +wise, it must be spoken of. + +HILLCRIST. I say no, Amy. I won't have it. It's a dirty weapon. +Who touches pitch shall be defiled. + +MRS. H. Well, what weapons does he use against us? Don't be +quixotic. For all we can tell, they know it quite well already, and +if they don't they ought to. Anyway, to know this is our salvation, +and we must use it. + +JILL: [Sotto voce] Pitch! Dodo! Pitch! + +DAWKER. The threat's enough! J.P.--Chapel--Future member for the +constituency----. + +HILLCRIST. [A little more doubtfully] To use a piece of knowledge +about a woman--it's repugnant. I--I won't do it. + + [Mrs. H. If you had a son tricked into marrying such a woman, + would you wish to remain ignorant of it?] + +HILLCRIST. [Struck] I don't know--I don't know. + +MRS. H. At least, you'd like to be in a position to help him, if +you thought it necessary? + +HILLCRIST. Well--that perhaps. + +MRS. H. Then you agree that Mr. Hornblower at least should be told. +What he does with the knowledge is not our affair. + +HILLCRIST. [Half to the STRANGER and half to DAWKER] Do you realise +that an imputation of that kind may be ground for a criminal libel +action? + +STRANGER. Quite. But there's no shadow of doubt; not the faintest. +You saw her just now? + +HILLCRIST. I did. [Revolting again] No; I don't like it. + + [DAWKER has drawn the STRANGER a step or two away, and they + talk together.] + +MRS. H. [In a low voice] And the ruin of our home? You're +betraying your fathers, Jack. + +HILLCRIST. I can't bear bringing a woman into it. + +MRS. H. We don't. If anyone brings her in; it will be Hornblower +himself. + +HILLCRIST. We use her secret as a lever. + +MRS. H. I tell you quite plainly: I will only consent to holding my +tongue about her, if you agree to Hornblower being told. It's a +scandal to have a woman like that in the neighbourhood. + +JILL. Mother means that, father. + +HILLCRIST. Jill, keep quiet. This is a very bitter position. I +can't tell what to do. + +MRS. H. You must use this knowledge. You owe it to me--to us all. +You'll see that when you've thought it over. + +JILL. [Softly] Pitch, Dodo, pitch! + +MRS. H. [Furiously] Jill, be quiet! + +HILLCRIST. I was brought up never to hurt a woman. I can't do it, +Amy--I can't do it. I should never feel like a gentleman again. + +MRS. H. [Coldly] Oh! Very well. + +HILLCRIST. What d'you mean by that? + +MRS. H. I shall use the knowledge in my own way. + +HILLCRIST. [Staring at her] You would--against my wishes? + +MRS. H. I consider it my duty. + +HILLCRIST. If I agree to Hornblower being told---- + +MRS. H. That's all I want. + +HILLCRIST. It's the utmost I'll consent to, Amy; and don't let's +have any humbug about its being, morally necessary. We do it to +save our skins. + +MRS. H. I don't know what you mean by humbug? + +JILL. He means humbug; mother. + +HILLCRIST. It must stop at old Hornblower. Do you quite +understand? + +MRS. H. Quite. + +JILL. Will it stop? + +MRS. H. Jill, if you can't keep your impertinence to yourself---- + +HILLCRIST. Jill, come with me. + + [He turns towards door, Back.] + +JILL. I'm sorry, mother. Only it is a skin game, isn't it? + +MRS. H. You pride yourself on plain speech, Jill. I pride myself +on plain thought. You will thank me afterwards that I can see +realities. I know we are better people than these Hornblowers. +Here we are going to stay, and they--are not. + +JILL. [Looking at her with a sort of unwilling admiration] Mother, +you're wonderful! + +HILLCRIST. Jill! + +JILL. Coming, Dodo. + + [She turns and runs to the door. They go out.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST, with a long sigh, draws herself up, fine and + proud.] + +MRS. H. Dawker! [He comes to her.] + + [I shall send him a note to-night, and word it so that + he will be bound to come and see us to-marrow morning. Will + you be in the study just before eleven o'clock, with this + gentleman?] + +DAWKER. [Nodding] We're going to wire for his partner. I'll bring +him too. Can't make too sure. + + [She goes firmly up the steps and out.] + +DAWKER. [To the STRANGER, with a wink] The Squire's squeamish--too +much of a gentleman. But he don't count. The grey mare's all +right. You wire to Henry. I'm off to our solicitors. We'll make +that old rhinoceros sell us back the Centry at a decent price. +These Hornblowers--[Laying his finger on his nose] We've got 'em! + + + CURTAIN + + + + + +SCENE II + + CHLOE's boudoir at half-past seven the same evening. A pretty + room. No pictures on the walls, but two mirrors. A screen and + a luxurious couch an the fireplace side, stage Left. A door + rather Right of Centre Back; opening inwards. A French window, + Right forward: A writing table, Right Back. Electric light + burning. + + CHLOE, in a tea-gown, is standing by the forward end of the + sofa, very still, and very pale. Her lips are parted, and her + large eyes stare straight before them as if seeing ghosts: The + door is opened noiselessly and a WOMAN'S face is seen. It + peers at CHLOE, vanishes, and the door is closed. CHLOE raises + her hands, covers her eyes with them, drops them with a quick + gesture, and looks round her. A knock. With a swift movement + she slides on to the sofa, and lies prostrate, with eyes + closed. + +CHLOE. [Feebly] Come in! + + [Her Maid enters; a trim, contained figure of uncertain years, + in a black dress, with the face which was peering in.] + +Yes, Anna? + +ANNA. Aren't you going in to dinner, ma'am? + +CHLOE. [With closed eyes] No. + +ANNA. Will you take anything here, ma'am? + +CHLOE. I'd like a biscuit and a glass of champagne. + + [The MAID, who is standing between sofa and door, smiles. + CHLOE, with a swift look, catches the smile.] + +Why do you smile? + +ANNA. Was I, ma'am? + +CHLOE. You know you were. [Fiercely] Are you paid to smile at me? + +ANNA. [Immovable] No, ma'am, Would you like some eau de Cologne on +your forehead? + +CHLOE. Yes.--No.--What's the good? [Clasping her forehead] My +headache won't go. + +ANNA. To keep lying down's the best thing for it. + +CHLOE. I have been--hours. + +ANNA. [With the smile] Yes, ma'am. + +CHLOE. [Gathering herself up on the sofa] Anna! Why do you do it? + +ANNA. Do what, ma'am? + +CHLOE. Spy on me. + +ANNA. I--never! I----! + +CHLOE. To spy! You're a fool, too. What is there to spy on? + +ANNA. Nothing, ma'am. Of course, if you're not satisfied with me, +I must give notice. Only--if I were spying, I should expect to have +notice given me. I've been accustomed to ladies who wouldn't stand +such a thing for a minute. + +CHLOE: [Intently] Well, you'll take a month's wages and go +tomorrow. And that's all, now. + + [ANNA inclines her head and goes out.] + + [CHLOE, with a sort of moan, turns over and buries her face in + the cushion.] + +CHLOE. [Sitting up] If I could see that man--if only--or Dawker--- + + [She springs up and goes to the door, but hesitates, and comes + back to the head of the sofa, as ROLF comes in. During this + scene the door is again opened stealthily, an inch or too.] + +ROLF. How's the head? + +CHLOE. Beastly, thanks. I'm not going into dinner. + +ROLF. Is there anything I can do for you? + +CHLOE. No, dear boy. [Suddenly looking at him] You don't want +this quarrel with the Hillcrists to go on, do you, Rolf? + +ROLF. No; I hate it. + +CHLOE. Well, I think I might be able to stop it. Will you slip +round to Dawker's--it's not five minutes--and ask him to come and +see me. + +ROLF. Father and Charlie wouldn't---- + +CHLOE. I know. But if he comes to the window here while you're at +dinner, I'll let him in, and out, and nobody'd know. + +ROLF. [Astonished] Yes, but what I mean how---- + +CHLOE. Don't ask me. It's worth the shot that's all. [Looking at +her wrist-watch] To this window at eight o'clock exactly. First +long window on the terrace, tell him. + +ROLF. It's nothing Charlie would mind? + +CHLOE. No; only I can't tell him--he and father are so mad about it +all. + +ROLF. If there's a real chance---- + +CHLOE. [Going to the window and opening it] This way, Rolf. If +you don't come back I shall know he's coming. Put your watch by +mine. [Looking at his watch] It's a minute fast, see! + +ROLF. Look here, Chloe + +CHLOE. Don't wait; go on. + + [She almost pushes him out through the window, closes it after + him, draws the curtains again, stands a minute, thinking hard; + goes to the bell and rings it; then, crossing to the writing + table, Right Back, she takes out a chemist's prescription.] + + [ANNA comes in.] + +CHLOE. I don't want that champagne. Take this to the chemist and +get him to make up some of these cachets quick, and bring them back +yourself. + +ANNA. Yes, ma'am; but you have some. + +CHLOE. They're too old; I've taken two--the strength's out of them. +Quick, please; I can't stand this head. + +ANNA. [Taking the prescription--with her smile] Yes, ma'am. It'll +take some time--you don't want me? + +CHLOE. No; I want the cachets. + + [ANNA goes out.] + + [CHLOE looks at her wrist-watch, goes to the writing-table, + which is old-fashioned, with a secret drawer, looks round her, + dives at the secret drawer, takes out a roll of notes and a + tissue paper parcel. She counts the notes: "Three hundred." + Slips them into her breast and unwraps the little parcel. It + contains pears. She slips them, too, into her dress, looks + round startled, replaces the drawer, and regains her place on + the sofa, lying prostrate as the door opens, and HORNBLOWER + comes in. She does not open her ages, and he stands looking at + her a moment before speaking.] + +HORNBLOWER. [Almost softly] How are ye feelin'. Chloe? + +CHLOE. Awful head! + +HORNBLOWER: Can ye attend a moment? I've had a note from that +woman. + + [CHLOE sits up.] + +HORNBLOWER. [Reading] "I have something of the utmost importance +to tell you in regard to your daughter-in-law. I shall be waiting +to see you at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning. The matter is so +utterly vital to the happiness of all your family, that I cannot +imagine you will fail to come." Now, what's the meaning of it? Is +it sheer impudence, or lunacy, or what? + +CHLOE. I don't know. + +HORNBLOWER. [Not unkindly] Chloe, if there's anything--ye'd better +tell me. Forewarned's forearmed. + +CHLOE. There's nothing; unless it's--[With a quick took at him,]-- +Unless it's that my father was a--a bankrupt. + +HORNBLOWER. Hech! Many a man's been that. Ye've never told us +much about your family. + +CHLOE. I wasn't very proud of him. + +HORNBLOWER. Well, ye're not responsible for your father. If that's +all, it's a relief. The bitter snobs! I'll remember it in the +account I've got with them. + +CHLOE. Father, don't say anything to Charlie; it'll only worry him +for nothing. + +HORNBLOWER. No, no, I'll not. If I went bankrupt, it'd upset +Chearlie, I've not a doubt. [He laugh. Looking at her shrewdly] +There's nothing else, before I answer her? + + [CHLOE shakes her head.] + +Ye're sure? + +CHLOE. [With an efort] She may invent things, of course. + +HORNBLOWER. [Lost in his feud feeling] Ah! but there's such a +thing as the laws o' slander. If they play pranks, I'll have them +up for it. + +CHLOE. [Timidly] Couldn't you stop this quarrel; father? You said +it was on my account. But I don't want to know them. And they do +love their old home. I like the girl. You don't really need to +build just there, do you? Couldn't you stop it? Do! + +HORNBLOWER. Stop it? Now I've bought? Na, no! The snobs defied +me, and I'm going to show them. I hate the lot of them, and I hate +that little Dawker worst of all. + +CHLOE. He's only their agent. + +HORNBLOWER. He's a part of the whole dog-in-the-manger system that +stands in my way. Ye're a woman, and ye don't understand these +things. Ye wouldn't believe the struggle I've had to make my money +and get my position. These county folk talk soft sawder, but to get +anything from them's like gettin' butter out of a dog's mouth. If +they could drive me out of here by fair means or foul, would they +hesitate a moment? Not they! See what they've made me pay; and +look at this letter. Selfish, mean lot o' hypocrites! + +CHLOE. But they didn't begin the quarrel. + +HORNBLOWER. Not openly; but underneath they did--that's their way. +They began it by thwartin' me here and there and everywhere, just +because I've come into me own a bit later than they did. I gave 'em +their chance, and they wouldn't take it. Well, I'll show 'em what a +man like me can do when he sets his mind to it. I'll not leave much +skin on them. + + [In the intensity of his feeling he has lost sight of her face, + alive with a sort of agony of doubt, whether to plead with him + further, or what to do. Then, with a swift glance at her + wristwatch, she falls back on the sofa and closes her eyes.] + +It'll give me a power of enjoyment seein' me chimneys go up in front +of their windies. That was a bonnie thought--that last bid o' mine. +He'd got that roused up, I believe, he, never would a' stopped. +[Looking at her] I forgot your head. Well, well, ye'll be best +tryin' quiet. [The gong sounds.] Shall we send ye something in +from dinner? + +CHLOE. No; I'll try to sleep. Please tell them I don't want to be +disturbed. + +HORNBLOWER. All right. I'll just answer this note. + + [He sits down at her writing-table.] + + [CHLOE starts up from the sofa feverishly, looking at her + watch, at the window, at her watch; then softly crosses to the + window and opens it.] + +HORNBLOWER. [Finishing] Listen! [He turns round towards the sofa] +Hallo! Where are ye? + +CHLOE. [At the window] It's so hot. + +HORNBLOWER. Here's what I've said: + + "MADAM,--You can tell me nothing of my daughter-in-law which + can affect the happiness of my family. I regard your note as + an impertinence, and I shall not be with you at eleven o'clock + to-morrow morning. + + "Yours truly----" + +CHLOE. [With a suffering movement of her head] Oh!--Well!--[The +gong is touched a second time.] + +HORNBLOWER. [Crossing to the door] Lie ye down, and get a sleep. +I'll tell them not to disturb ye; and I hope ye'll be all right +to-morrow. Good-night, Chloe. + +CHLOE. Good-night. [He goes out.] + + [After a feverish turn or two, CHLOE returns to the open window + and waits there, half screened by the curtains. The door is + opened inch by inch, and ANNA'S head peers round. Seeing where + CHLOE is, she slips in and passes behind the screen, Left. + Suddenly CHLOE backs in from the window.] + +CHLOE. [In a low voice] Come in. + + [She darts to the door and locks it.] + + [DAWKER has come in through the window and stands regarding her + with a half smile.] + +DAWKER. Well, young woman, what do you want of me? + + [In the presence of this man of her own class, there comes a + distinct change in CHLOE'S voice and manner; a sort of frank + commonness, adapted to the man she is dealing with, but she + keeps her voice low.] + +CHLOE. You're making a mistake, you know. + +DAWKER. [With a broad grin] No. I've got a memory for faces. + +CHLOE. I say you are. + +DAWKER. [Turning to go] If that's all, you needn't have troubled +me to come. + +CHLOE. No. Don't go! [With a faint smile] You are playing a game +with me. Aren't you ashamed? What harm have I done you? Do you +call this cricket? + +DAWKER. No, my girl--business. + +CHLOE. [Bitterly] What have I to do with this quarrel? I couldn't +help their falling out. + +DAWKER. That's your misfortune. + +CHLOE. [Clasping her hands] You're a cruel fellow if you can spoil +a woman's life who never did you an ounce of harm. + +DAWKER. So they don't know about you. That's all right. Now, look +here, I serve my employer. But I'm flesh and blood, too, and I +always give as good as I get. I hate this family of yours. There's +no name too bad for 'em to call me this last month, and no looks too +black to give me. I tell you frankly, I hate. + +CHLOE. There's good in them same as in you. + +DAWKER. [With a grin] There's no good Hornblower but a dead +Hornblower. + +CHLOE. But--but Im not one. + +DAWKER. You'll be the mother of some, I shouldn't wonder. + +CHLOE. [Stretching out her hand-pathetically] Oh! leave me alone, +do! I'm happy here. Be a sport! Be a sport! + +DAWKER. [Disconcerted for a second] You can't get at me, so don't +try it on. + +CHLOE. I had such a bad time in old days. + + [DAWKER shakes his head; his grin has disappeared and his face + is like wood.] + +CHLOE. [Panting] Ah! do! You might! You've been fond of some +woman, I suppose. Think of her! + +DAWKER. [Decisively] It won't do, Mrs. Chloe. You're a pawn in +the game, and I'm going to use you. + +CHLOE. [Despairingly] What is it to you? [With a sudden touch of +the tigress] Look here! Don't you make an enemy, of me. I haven't +dragged through hell for nothing. Women like me can bite, I tell +you. + +DAWKER. That's better. I'd rather have a woman threaten than +whine, any day. Threaten away! You'll let 'em know that you met me +in the Promenade one night. Of course you'll let 'em know that, +won't you?--or that---- + +CHLOE. Be quiet! Oh! Be quiet! [Taking from her bosom the notes +and the pearls] Look! There's my savings--there's all I've got! +The pearls'll fetch nearly a thousand. [Holding it out to him] +Take it, and drop me out--won't you? Won't you? + +DAWKER. [Passing his tongue over his lips with a hard little laugh] +You mistake your man, missis. I'm a plain dog, if you like, but I'm +faithful, and I hold fast. Don't try those games on me. + +CHLOE. [Losing control] You're a beast!--a beast! a cruel, +cowardly beast! And how dare you bribe that woman here to spy on +me? Oh! yes, you do; you know you do. If you drove me mad, you +wouldn't care. You beast! + +DAWKER. Now, don't carry on! That won't help you. + +CHLOE. What d'you call it--to dog a woman down like this, just +because you happen to have a quarrel with a man? + +DAWKER. Who made the quarrel? Not me, missis. You ought to know +that in a row it's the weak and helpless--we won't say the innocent +--that get it in the neck. That can't be helped. + +CHLOE. [Regarding him intently] I hope your mother or your sister, +if you've got any, may go through what I'm going through ever since +you got on my track. I hope they'll know what fear means. I hope +they'll love and find out that it's hanging on a thread, and--and-- +Oh! you coward, you persecuting coward! Call yourself a man! + +DAWKER. [With his grin] Ah! You look quite pretty like that. By +George! you're a handsome woman when you're roused. + + [CHLOE'S passion fades out as quickly as it blazed up. She + sinks down on the sofa, shudders, looks here and there, and + then for a moment up at him.] + +CHLOE. Is there anything you'll take, not to spoil my life? +[Clasping her hands on her breast; under her breath] Me? + +DAWKER. [Wiping his brow] By God! That's an offer. [He recoils +towards the window] You--you touched me there. Look here! I've +got to use you and I'm going to use you, but I'll do my best to let +you down as easy as I can. No, I don't want anything you can give +me--that is--[He wipes his brow again] I'd like it--but I won't +take it. + + [CHLOE buries her face in her hands.] + +There! Keep your pecker up; don't cry. Good-night! [He goes +through the window.] + +CHLOE. [Springing up] Ugh! Rat in a trap! Rat----! + + [She stands listening; flies to the door, unlocks it, and, + going back to the sofa, lies down and doses her eyes. CHARLES + comes in very quietly and stands over her, looking to see if + she is asleep. She opens her eyes.] + +CHARLES. Well, Clo! Had a sleep, old girl? + +CHLOE. Ye-es. + +CHARLES. [Sitting on the arm of the sofa and caressing her] Feel +better, dear? + +CHLOE. Yes, better, Charlie. + +CHARLES. That's right. Would you like some soup? + +CHLOE. [With a shudder] No. + +CHARLES. I say-what gives you these heads? You've been very on and +off all this last month. + +CHLOE. I don't know. Except that--except that I am going to have a +child, Charlie. + +CHARLES. After all! By Jove! Sure? + +CHLOE. [Nodding] Are you glad? + +CHARLES. Well--I suppose I am. The guv'nor will be mighty pleased, +anyway. + +CHLOE. Don't tell him--yet. + +CHARLES. All right! [Bending over and drawing her to him] My poor +girl, I'm so sorry you're seedy. Give us a kiss. + + [CHLOE puts up her face and kisses him passionately.] + +I say, you're like fire. You're not feverish? + + +CHLOE. [With a laugh] It's a wonder if I'm not. Charlie, are you +happy with me? + +CHARLES. What do you think? + +CHLOE. [Leaning against him] You wouldn't easily believe things +against me, would you? + +CHARLES. What! Thinking of those Hillcrists? What the hell that +woman means by her attitude towards you--When I saw her there +to-day, I had all my work cut out not to go up and give her a bit +of my mind. + +CHLOE. [Watching him stealthily] It's not good for me, now I'm +like this. It's upsetting me, Charlie. + +CHARLES. Yes; and we won't forget. We'll make 'em pay for it. + +CHLOE. It's wretched in a little place like this. I say, must you +go on spoiling their home? + +CHARLES. The woman cuts you and insults you. That's enough for me. + +CHLOE. [Timidly] Let her. I don't care; I can't bear feeling +enemies about, Charlie, I--get nervous--I---- + +CHARLES. My dear girl! What is it? + + [He looks at her intently.] + +CHLOE. I suppose it's--being like this. [Suddenly] But, Charlie, +do stop it for my sake. Do, do! + +CHARLES. [Patting her arm] Come, come; I say, Chloe! You're +making mountains. See things in proportion. Father's paid nine +thousand five hundred to get the better of those people, and you +want him to chuck it away to save a woman who's insulted you. +That's not sense, and it's not business. Have some pride. + +CHLOE. [Breathless] I've got no pride, Charlie. I want to be +quiet--that's all. + +CHARLES. Well, if the row gets on your nerves, I can take you to +the sea. But you ought to enjoy a fight with people like that. + +CHLOE. [With calculated bitterness] No, it's nothing, of course-- +what I want. + +CHARLES. Hello! Hello! You are on the jump! + +CHLOE. If you want me to be a good wife to you, make father stop +it. + +CHARLES. [Standing up] Now, look here, Chloe, what's behind this? + +CHLOE. [Faintly] Behind? + +CHARLES. You're carrying on as if--as if you were really scared! +We've got these people: We'll have them out of Deepwater in six +months. It's absolute ruination to their beastly old house; we'll +put the chimneys on the very edge, not three hundred yards off, and +our smoke'll be drifting over them half the time. You won't have +this confounded stuck-up woman here much longer. And then we can +really go ahead and take our proper place. So long as she's here, +we shall never do that. We've only to drive on now as fast as we +can. + +CHLOE. [With a gesture] I see. + +CHARLES. [Again looking at her] If you go on like this, you know, +I shall begin to think there's something you---- + +CHLOE [softly] Charlie! [He comes to her.] Love me! + +CHARLES. [Embracing her] There, old girl! I know women are funny +at these times. You want a good night, that's all. + +CHLOE. You haven't finished dinner, have you? Go back, and I'll go +to bed quite soon. Charlie, don't stop loving me. + +CHARLES. Stop? Not much. + + [While he is again embracing her, ANNA steals from behind the + screen to the door, opens it noiselessly, and passes through, + but it clicks as she shuts it.] + +CHLOE. [Starting violently] Oh-h! + + [He comes to her.] + +CHARLES. What is it? What is it? You are nervy, my dear. + +CHLOE. [Looking round with a little laugh] I don't know. Go on, +Charlie. I'll be all right when this head's gone. + +CHARLES. [Stroking her forehead and, looking at her doubtfully] +You go to bed; I won't be late coming up. + + [He turn, and goes, blowing a kiss from the doorway. When he + is gone, CHLOE gets up and stands in precisely the attitude in + which she stood at the beginning of the Act, thinking, and + thinking. And the door is opened, and the face of the MAID + peers round at her.] + + + CURTAIN + + + + +ACT III + + +SCENE I + + HILLCRIST'S study next morning. + + JILL coming from Left, looks in at the open French window. + +JILL. [Speaking to ROLF, invisible] Come in here. There's no one. + + [She goes in. ROLF joins her, coming from the garden.] + +ROLF. Jill, I just wanted to say--Need we? + + [JILL. nodes.] + +Seeing you yesterday--it did seem rotten. + +JILL. We didn't begin it. + +ROLF. No; but you don't understand. If you'd made yourself, as +father has---- + +JILL. I hope I should be sorry. + +ROLF. [Reproachfully] That isn't like you. Really he can't help +thinking he's a public benefactor. + +JILL. And we can't help thinking he's a pig. Sorry! + +ROLF. If the survival of the fittest is right---- + +JILL. He may be fitter, but he's not going to survive. + +ROLF. [Distracted] It looks like it, though. + +JILL. Is that all you came to say? + +ROLF. Suppose we joined, couldn't we stop it? + +JILL. I don't feel like joining. + +ROLF. We did shake hands. + +JILL. One can't fight and not grow bitter. + +ROLF. I don't feel bitter. + +JILL. Wait; you'll feel it soon enough. + +ROLF. Why? [Attentively] About Chloe? I do think your mother's +manner to her is---- + +JILL. Well? + +ROLF. Snobbish. [JILL laughs.] +She may not be your class; and that's just why it's +snobbish. + +JILL. I think you'd better shut up. + +ROLF. What my father said was true; your mother's rudeness to her +that day she came here, has made both him and Charlie ever so much +more bitter. + + [JILL whistles the Habanera from "Carmen."] + + [Staring at her, rather angrily] + +Is it a whistling matter? + +JILL. No. + +ROLF. I suppose you want me to go? + +JILL. Yes. + +ROLF. All right. Aren't we ever going to be friends again? + +JILL. [Looking steadily at him] I don't expect so. + +ROLF. That's very-horrible. + +JILL. Lots of horrible things in the world. + +ROLF. It's our business to make them fewer, Jill. + +JILL. [Fiercely] Don't be moral. + +ROLF. [Hurt] That's the last thing I want to be.--I only want to +be friendly. + +JILL. Better be real first. + +ROLF. From the big point of view---- + +JILL. There isn't any. We're all out, for our own. And why not? + +ROLF. By jove, you have got---- + +JILL. Cynical? Your father's motto--"Every man for himself." +That's the winner--hands down. Goodbye! + +ROLF. Jill! Jill! + +JILL. [Putting her hands behind her back, hums]-- + "If auld acquaintance be forgot + And days of auld lang syne"---- + +ROLF. Don't! + + [With a pained gesture he goes out towards Left, through the + French window.] + + [JILL, who has broken off the song, stands with her hands + clenched and her lips quivering.] + + [FELLOWS enters Left.] + +FELLOWS. Mr. Dawker, Miss, and two gentlemen. + +JILL. Let the three gentlemen in, and me out. + + [She passes him and goes out Left. And immediately. DAWKER + and the two STRANGERS come in.] + +FELLOWS. I'll inform Mrs. Hillcrist, sir. The Squire is on his +rounds. [He goes out Left.] + + [The THREE MEN gather in a discreet knot at the big bureau, + having glanced at the two doors and the open French window.] + +DAWKER. Now this may come into Court, you know. If there's a screw +loose anywhere, better mention it. [To SECOND STRANGE] You knew +her personally? + +SECOND S. What do you think? I don't, take girls on trust for that +sort of job. She came to us highly recommended, too; and did her +work very well. It was a double stunt--to make sure--wasn't it, +George? + +FIRST S. Yes; we paid her for the two visits. + +SECOND S. I should know her in a minute; striking looking girl; had +something in her face. Daresay she'd seen hard times. + +FIRST S. We don't want publicity. + +DAWKER. Not Likely. The threat'll do it; but the stakes are heavy +--and the man's a slugger; we must be able to push it home. If you +can both swear to her, it'll do the trick. + +SECOND S. And about--I mean, we're losing time, you know, coming +down here. + +DAWKER. [With a nod at FIRST STRANGER] George here knows me. +That'll be all right. I'll guarantee it well worth your while. + +SECOND S. I don't want to do the girl harm, if she's married. + +DAWKER. No, no; nobody wants to hurt her. We just want a cinch on +this fellow till he squeals. + + [They separate a little as MRS. HILLCRIST enters from Right.] + +DAWKER. Good morning, ma'am. My friend's partner. Hornblower +coming? + +MRS. H. At eleven. I had to send up a second note, Dawker. + +DAWKER. Squire not in? + +MRS. H. I haven't told him. + +DAWKER. [Nodding] Our friends might go in here [Pointing Right] +and we can use 'em as the want 'em. + +MRS. H. [To the STRANGERS] Will you make yourselves comfortable? + + [She holds the door open, and they pass her into the room, + Right.] + +DAWKER. [Showing document] I've had this drawn and engrossed. +Pretty sharp work. Conveys the Centry, and Longmeadow; to the +Squire at four thousand five hundred: Now, ma'am, suppose Hornblower +puts his hand to that, hell have been done in the eye, and six +thousand all told out o' pocket.--You'll have a very nasty neighbour +here. + +MRS. H. But we shall still have the power to disclose that secret +at any time. + +DAWKER. Yeh! But things might happen here you could never bring +home to him. You can't trust a man like that. He isn't goin' to +forgive me, I know. + +MRS. H. [Regarding him keenly] But if he signs, we couldn't +honourably---- + +DAWKER. No, ma'am, you couldn't; and I'm sure I don't want to do +that girl a hurt. I just mention it because, of course, you can't +guarantee that it doesn't get out. + +MRS. H. Not absolutely, I suppose. + + [A look passes between them, which neither of them has quite + sanctioned.] + + [There's his car. It always seems to make more noise than any + other.] + +DAWKER. He'll kick and flounder--but you leave him to ask what you +want, ma'am; don't mention this [He puts the deed back into his +pocket]. The Centry's no mortal good to him if he's not going to +put up works; I should say he'd be glad to save what he can. + + [MRS. HILLCRIST inclines her head. FELLOWS enters Left.] + +FELLOWS. [Apologetically] Mr. Hornblower, ma'am; by appointment, +he says. + +MRS. H. Quite right, Fellows. + + [HORNBLOWER comes in, and FELLOWS goes out.] + +HORNBLOWER. [Without salutation] I've come to ask ye point bleak +what ye mean by writing me these letters. [He takes out two +letters.] And we'll discus it in the presence of nobody, if ye, +please. + +MRS. H. Mr. Dawker knows all that I know, and more. + +HORNBLOWER. Does he? Very well! Your second note says that my +daughter-in-law has lied to me. Well, I've brought her, and what +ye've got to say--if it's not just a trick to see me again--ye'll +say to her face. [He takes a step towards the window.] + +MRS. H. Mr. Hornblower, you had better, decide that after hearing +what it is--we shall be quite ready to repeat it in her presence; +but we want to do as little harm as possible. + +HORNBLOWER. [Stopping] Oh! ye do! Well, what lies have ye been +hearin'? Or what have ye made up? You and Mr. Dawker? Of course +ye know there's a law of libel and slander. I'm, not the man to +stop at that. + +MRS. H. [Calmly] Are you familiar with the law of divorce, Mr. +Hornblower? + +HORNBLOWER. [Taken aback] No, I'm not. That is-----. + +MRS. H. Well, you know that misconduct is required. And I suppose +you've heard that cases are arranged. + +HORNBLOWER. I know it's all very shocking--what about it? + +MRS. H. When cases are arranged, Mr. Hornblower, the man who is to +be divorced often visits an hotel with a strange woman. I am +extremely sorry to say that your daughter-in-law, before her +marriage, was in the habit of being employed as such a woman. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye dreadful creature! + +DAWKER. [Quickly] All proved, up to the hilt! + +HORNBLOWER. I don't believe a word of it. Ye're lyin' to save your +skins. How dare ye tell me such monstrosities? Dawker, I'll have +ye in a criminal court. + +DAWKER. Rats! You saw a gent with me yesterday? Well, he's +employed her. + +HORNBLOWER. A put-up job! Conspiracy! + +MRS. H. Go and get your daughter-in-law. + +HORNBLOWER. [With the first sensation of being in a net] It's a +foul shame--a lying slander! + +MRS. H. If so, it's easily disproved. Go and fetch her. + +HORNBLOWER. [Seeing them unmoved] I will. I don't believe a word +of it. + +MRS. H. I hope you are right. + + [HORNBLOWER goes out by the French window, DAWKER slips to the + door Right, opens it, and speaks to those within. MRS. + HILLCRIST stands moistening her lips, and passim her + handkerchief over them. HORNBLOWER returns, preceding CHLOE, + strung up to hardness and defiance.] + +HORNBLOWER. Now then, let's have this impudent story torn to rags. + +CHLOE. What story? + +HORNBLOWER. That you, my dear, were a woman--it's too shockin--I +don't know how to tell ye---- + +CHLOE. Go on! + +HORNBLOWER. Were a woman that went with men, to get them their +divorce. + +CHLOE. Who says that? + +HORNBLOWER. That lady [Sneering] there, and her bull-terrier here. + +CHLOE. [Facing MRS. HILLCRIST] That's a charitable thing to say, +isn't it? + +MRS. H. Is it true? + +CHLOE. No. + +HORNBLOWER. [Furiously] There! I'll have ye both on your knees to +her! + +DAWKER. [Opening the door, Right] Come in. + + [The FIRST STRANGER comes in. CHLOE, with a visible effort, + turns to face him.] + +FIRST S. How do you do, Mrs. Vane? + +CHLOE. I don't know you. + +FIRST S. Your memory is bad, ma'am: You knew me yesterday well +enough. One day is not a long time, nor are three years. + +CHLOE. Who are you? + +FIRST S. Come, ma'am, come! The Caster case. + +CHLOE. I don't know you, I say. [To MRS. HILLCRIST] How can you +be so vile? + +FIRST S. Let me refresh your memory, ma'am. [Producing a notebook] +Just on three years ago; "Oct.3. To fee and expenses Mrs. Vane with +Mr. C----, Hotel Beaulieu, Twenty pounds. Oct. 10, Do., Twenty +pounds." [To HORNBLOWER] Would you like to glance at this book, +sir? You'll see they're genuine entries. + + [HORNBLOWER makes a motion to do so, but checks himself and + looks at CHLOE.] + +CHLOE. [Hysterically] It's all lies--lies! + +FIRST S. Come, ma'am, we wish you no harm. + +CHLOE. Take me away. I won't be treated like this. + +MRS. H. [In a low voice] Confess. + +CHLOE. Lies! + +HORNBLOWER. Were ye ever called Vane? + +CHLOE. No, never. + + [She makes a movement towards the window, but DAWKER is in the + way, and she halts. FIRST S. [Opening the door, Right] + Henry.] + + [The SECOND STRANGER comes in quickly. At sight of him CHLOE + throws up her hands, gasps, breaks down, stage Left, and stands + covering her face with her hands. It is so complete a + confession that HORNBLOWER stands staggered; and, taking out a + coloured handkerchief, wipes his brow.] + +DAWKER. Are you convinced? + +HORNBLOWER. Take those men away. + +DAWKER. If you're not satisfied, we can get other evidence; plenty. + +HORNBLOWER. [Looking at CHLOE] That's enough. Take them out. +Leave me alone with her. + + [DAWKER takes them out Right. MRS. HILLCRIST passes HORNBLOWER + and goes out at the window. HORNBLOWER moves down a step or + two towards CHLOE.] + +HORNBLOWER. My God! + +CHLOE. [With an outburst] Don't tell Charlie! Don't tell Charlie! + +HORNBLOWER. Chearlie! So, that was your manner of life. + + [CHLOE utters a moaning sound.] + +So that's what ye got out of by marryin' into my family! Shame on +ye, ye Godless thing! + +CHLOE. Don't tell Charlie! + +HORNBLOWER. And that's all ye can say for the wreck ye've wrought. +My family, my works, my future! How dared ye! + +CHLOE. If you'd been me!---- + +HORNBLOWER. An' these Hillcrists. The skin game of it! + +CHLOE. [Breathless] Father! + +HORNBLOWER. Don't call me that, woman! + +CHLOE. [Desperate] I'm going to have a child. + +HORNBLOWER. God! Ye are! + +CHLOE. Your grandchild. For the sake of it, do what these people +want; and don't tell anyone--DON'T TELL CHARLIE! + +HORNBLOWER. [Again wiping his forehead] A secret between us. I +don't know that I can keep it. It's horrible. Poor Chearlie! + +CHLOE. [Suddenly fierce] You must keep it, you shall! I won't +have him told. Don't make me desperate! I can be--I didn't live +that life for nothing. + +HORNBLOWER. [Staring at her resealed in a new light] Ay; ye look a +strange, wild woman, as I see ye. And we thought the world of ye! + +CHLOE. I love Charlie; I'm faithful to him. I can't live without +him. You'll never forgive me, I know; but Charlie----! [Stretching +out her hands.] + + [HORNBLOWER makes a bewildered gesture with his large hands.] + +HORNBLOWER. I'm all at sea here. Go out to the car and wait for +me. + + [CHLOE passes him and goes out, Left.] + +[Muttering to himself] So I'm down! Me enemies put their heels upon +me head! Ah! but we'll see yet! + + [He goes up to the window and beckons towards the Right.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST comes in.] + +What d'ye want for this secret? + +MRS. H. Nothing. + +HORNBLOWER. Indeed! Wonderful!--the trouble ye've taken for-- +nothing. + +MRS. H. If you harm us we shall harm you. Any use whatever of the +Centry. + +HORNBLOWER. For which ye made me pay nine thousand five hundred +pounds. + +MRS. H. We will buy it from you. + +HORNBLOWER. At what price? + +MRS. H. The Centry at the price Miss Muffins would have taken at +first, and Longmeadow at the price you--gave us--four thousand five +hundred altogether. + +HORNBLOWER. A fine price, and me six thousand out of pocket. Na, +no! I'll keep it and hold it over ye. Ye daren't tell this secret +so long as I've got it. + +MRS. H. No, Mr. Hornblower. On second thoughts, you must sell. +You broke your word over the Jackmans. We can't trust you. We +would rather have our place here ruined at once, than leave you the +power to ruin it as and when you like. You will sell us the Centry +and Longmeadow now, or you know what will happen. + +HORNBLOWER. [Writhing] I'll not. It's blackmail. + +MRS. H. Very well then! Go your own way and we'll go ours. There +is no witness to this conversation. + +HORNBLOWER. [Venomously] By heaven, ye're a clever woman. Will ye +swear by Almighty God that you and your family, and that agent of +yours, won't breathe a word of this shockin' thing to mortal soul. + +MRS. H. Yes, if you sell. + +HORNBLOWER. Where's Dawker? + +MRS. H. [Going to the door, Right] Mr. Dawker + + [DAWKER comes in.] + +HORNBLOWER. I suppose ye've got your iniquity ready. + + [DAWKER grins and produces the document.] + +It's mighty near conspiracy, this. Have ye got a Testament? + +MRS. H. My word will be enough, Mr. Hornblower. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye'll pardon me--I can't make it solemn enough for you. + +MRS. H. Very well; here is a Bible. + + [She takes a small Bible from the bookshelf.] + +DAWKER. [Spreading document on bureau] This is a short conveyance +of the Centry and Longmeadow--recites sale to you by Miss Mulling, +of the first, John Hillcrist of the second, and whereas you have +agreed for the sale to said John Hillcrist, for the sum of four +thousand five hundred pounds, in consideration of the said sum, +receipt whereof, you hereby acknowledge you do convey all that, etc. +Sign here. I'll witness. + +HORNBLOWER [To MRS. HILLCRIST] Take that Book in your hand, and +swear first. I swear by Almighty God never to breathe a word of +what I know concerning Chloe Hornblower to any living soul. + +MRS. H. No, Mr. Hornblower; you will please sign first. We are not +in the habit of breaking our word. + + [HORNBLOWER after a furious look at them, seizes a pen, runs + his eye again over the deed, and signs, DAWKER witnessing.] + +To that oath, Mr. Hornblower, we shall add the words, "So long as +the Hornblower family do us no harm." + +HORNBLOWER. [With a snarl] Take it in your hands, both of ye, and +together swear. + +MRS. H. [Taking the Book] I swear that I will breathe no word of +what I know concerning Chloe Hornblower to any living soul, so long +as the Hornblower family do us no harm. + +DAWKER. I swear that too. + +MRS. H. I engage for my husband. + +HORNBLOWER. Where are those two fellows? + +DAWKER. Gone. It's no business of theirs. + +HORNBLOWER. It's no business of any of ye what has happened to a +woman in the past. Ye know that. Good-day! + + [He gives them a deadly look, and goes out, left, followed by + DAWKER.] + +MRS. H. [With her hand on the Deed] Safe! + + [HILLCRIST enters at the French window, followed by JILL.] + +[Holding up the Deed] Look! He's just gone! I told you it was +only necessary to use the threat. He caved in and signed this; we +are sworn to say nothing. We've beaten him. + + [HILLCRIST studies the Deed.] + +JILL. [Awed] We saw Chloe in the car. How did she take it, +mother? + +MRS. H. Denied, then broke down when she saw our witnesses. I'm +glad you were not here, Jack. + +JILL. [Suddenly] I shall go and see her. + +MRS. H. Jill, you will not; you don't know what she's done. + +JILL. I shall. She must be in an awful state. + +HILLCRIST. My dear, you can do her no good. + +JILL. I think I can, Dodo. + +MRS. H. You don't understand human nature. We're enemies for life +with those people. You're a little donkey if you think anything +else. + +JILL. I'm going, all the same. + +MRS. H. Jack, forbid her. + +HILLCRIST. [Lifting an eyebrow] Jill, be reasonable. + +JILL. Suppose I'd taken a knock like that, Dodo, I'd be glad of +friendliness from someone. + +MRS. H. You never could take a knock like that. + +JILL. You don't know what you can do till you try, mother. + +HILLCRIST. Let her go, Amy. Im sorry for that young woman. + +MRS. H. You'd be sorry for a man who picked your pocket, I believe. + +HILLCRIST. I certainly should! Deuced little he'd get out of it, +when I've paid for the Centry. + +MRS. H. [Bitterly] Much gratitude I get for saving you both our +home! + +JILL. [Disarmed] Oh! Mother, we are grateful. Dodo, show your +gratitude. + +HILLCRIST. Well, my dear, it's an intense relief. I'm not good at +showing my feelings, as you know. What d'you want me to do? Stand +on one leg and crow? + +JILL. Yes, Dodo, yes! Mother, hold him while I [Suddenly she +stops, and all the fun goes out of her] No! I can't--I can't help +thinking of her. + + + CURTAIN falls for a minute. + + + +SCENE II + + + When it rises again, the room is empty and dark, same for + moonlight coming in through the French window, which is open. + + The figure of CHLOE, in a black cloak, appears outside in the + moonlight; she peers in, moves past, comes bank, hesitatingly + enters. The cloak, fallen back, reveals a white evening dress; + and that magpie figure stands poised watchfully in the dim + light, then flaps unhappily Left and Right, as if she could not + keep still. Suddenly she stands listening. + +ROLF'S VOICE. [Outside] Chloe! Chloe! + + [He appears] + +CHLOE. [Going to the window] What are you doing here? + +ROLF. What are you? I only followed you. + +CHLOE. Go away. + +ROLF. What's the matter? Tell me! + +CHLOE. Go away, and don't say anything. Oh! The roses! [She has +put her nose into some roses in a bowl on a big stand close to the +window] Don't they smell lovely? + +ROLF. What did Jill want this afternoon? + +CHLOE. I'll tell you nothing. Go away! + +ROLF. I don't like leaving you here in this state. + +CHLOE. What state? I'm all right. Wait for me down in the drive, +if you want to. + + [ROLF starts to go, stops, looks at her, and does go. CHLOE, + with a little moaning sound, flutters again, magpie-like, up + and down, then stands by the window listening. Voices are + heard, Left. She darts out of the window and away to the + Right, as HILLCRIST and JILL come in. They have turned up the + electric light, and come down in frond of the fireplace, where + HILLCRIST sits in an armchair, and JILL on the arm of it. They + are in undress evening attire.] + +HILLCRIST. Now, tell me. + +JILL. There isn't much, Dodo. I was in an awful funk for fear I +should meet any of the others, and of course I did meet Rolf, but I +told him some lie, and he took me to her room-boudoir, they call it +--isn't boudoir a "dug-out" word? + +HILLCRIST. [Meditatively] The sulking room. Well? + +JILL. She was sitting like this. [She buries her chin in her +hands, wide her elbows on her knees] And she said in a sort of +fierce way: "What do you want?" And I said: "I'm awfully sorry, but +I thought you might like it." + +HILLCRIST. Well? + +JILL. She looked at me hard, and said: "I suppose you know all +about it." And I Said: "Only vaguely," because of course I don't. +And she said: "Well, it was decent of you to come." Dodo, she looks +like a lost soul. What has she done? + +HILLCRIST. She committed her real crime when she married young +Hornblower without telling him. She came out of a certain world to +do it. + +JILL. Oh! [Staring in front of her] Is it very awful in that +world, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. [Uneasy] I don't know, Jill. Some can stand it, I +suppose; some can't. I don't know which sort she is. + +JILL. One thing I'm sure of: she's awfully fond of Chearlie. + +HILLCRIST. That's bad; that's very bad. + +JILL. And she's frightened, horribly. I think she's desperate. + +HILLCRIST. Women like that are pretty tough, Jill; don't judge her +too much by your own feelings. + +JILL. No; only----Oh! it was beastly; and of course I dried up. + +HILLCRIST. [Feelingly] H'm! One always does. But perhaps it was +as well; you'd have been blundering in a dark passage. + +JILL. I just said: "Father and I feel awfully sorry; if there's +anything we can do----" + +HILLCRIST. That was risky, Jill. + +JILL. (Disconsolately) I had to say something. I'm glad I went, +anyway. I feel more human. + +HILLCRIST. We had to fight for our home. I should have felt like a +traitor if I hadn't. + +JILL. I'm not enjoying home tonight, Dodo. + +HILLCRIST. I never could hate proper; it's a confounded nuisance. + +JILL. Mother's fearfully' bucked, and Dawker's simply oozing +triumph. I don't trust him. Dodo; he's too--not pugilistic--the +other one with a pug-naceous. + +HILLCRIST. He is rather. + +JILL. I'm sure he wouldn't care tuppence if Chloe committed +suicide. + +HILLCRIST. [Rising uneasily] Nonsense! Nonsense! + +JILL. I wonder if mother would. + +HILLCRIST. [Turning his face towards the window] What's that? I +thought I heard--[Louder]--Is these anybody out there? + + [No answer. JILL, springs up and runs to the window.] + +JILL. You! + + [She dives through to the Right, and returns, holding CHLOE'S + hand and drawing her forward] + +Come in! It's only us! [To HILLCRIST] Dodo! + +HILLCRIST. [Flustered, but making a show of courtesy] Good +evening! Won't you sit down? + +JILL. Sit down; you're all shaky. + + [She makes CHLOE sit down in the armchair, out of which they + have risen, then locks the door, and closing the windows, draws + the curtains hastily over them.] + +HILLCRIST. [Awkward and expectant] Can I do anything for you? + +CHLOE. I couldn't bear it he's coming to ask you---- + +HILLCRIST. Who? + +CHLOE. My husband. [She draws in her breath with a long shudder, +then seem to seize her courage in her hands] I've got to be quick. +He keeps on asking--he knows there's something. + +HILLCRIST. Make your mind easy. We shan't tell him. + +CHLOE. [Appealing] Oh! that's not enough. Can't you tell him +something to put him back to thinking it's all right? I've done him +such a wrong. I didn't realise till after--I thought meeting him +was just a piece of wonderful good luck, after what I'd been +through. I'm not such a bad lot--not really. + + [She stops from the over-quivering of her lips. JILL, standing + beside the chair, strokes her shoulder. HILLCRIST stands very + still, painfully biting at a finger.] + +You see, my father went bankrupt, and I was in a shop---- + +HILLCRIST. [Soothingly, and to prevent disclosures] Yes, yes; Yes, +yes! + +CHLOE. I never gave a man away or did anything I was ashamed of--at +least--I mean, I had to make my living in all sorts of ways, and +then I met Charlie. + + [Again she stopped from the quivering of her lips.] + +JILL. It's all right. + +CHLOE. He thought I was respectable, and that was such a relief, +you can't think, so--so I let him. + +JILL. Dodo! It's awful + +HILLCRIST. It is! + +CHLOE. And after I married him, you see, I fell in love. If I had +before, perhaps I wouldn't have dared only, I don't know--you never +know, do you? When there's a straw going, you catch at it. + +JILL. Of course you do. + +CHLOE. And now, you see, I'm going to have a child. + +JILL. [Aghast] Oh! Are you? + +HILLCRIST. Good God! + +CHLOE. [Dully] I've been on hot bricks all this month, ever since +that day here. I knew it was in the wind. What gets in the wind +never gets out. [She rises and throws out her arms] Never! It +just blows here and there [Desolately] and then--blows home. [Her +voice changes to resentment] But I've paid for being a fool-- +'tisn't fun, that sort of life, I can tell you. I'm not ashamed and +repentant, and all that. If it wasn't for him! I'm afraid he'll +never forgive me; it's such a disgrace for him--and then, to have +his child! Being fond of him, I feel it much worse than anything I +ever felt, and that's saying a good bit. It is. + +JILL. [Energetically] Look here! He simply mustn't find out. + +CHLOE. That's it; but it's started, and he's bound to keep on +because he knows there's something. A man isn't going to be +satisfied when there's something he suspects about his wife, Charlie +wouldn't never. He's clever, and he's jealous; and he's coming +here. + + [She stops, and looks round wildly, listening.] + +JILL. Dodo, what can we say to put him clean off the scent? + +HILLCRIST. Anything--in reason. + +CHLOE. [Catching at this straw] You will! You see, I don't know +what I'll do. I've got soft, being looked after--he does love me. +And if he throws me off, I'll go under--that's all. + +HILLCRIST. Have you any suggestion? + +CHLOE. [Eagerly] The only thing is to tell him something positive, +something he'll believe, that's not too bad--like my having been a +lady clerk with those people who came here, and having been +dismissed on suspicion of taking money. I could get him to believe +that wasn't true. + +JILL. Yes; and it isn't--that's splendid! You'd be able to put +such conviction into it. Don't you think so, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Anything I can. I'm deeply sorry. + +CHLOE. Thank you. And don't say I've been here, will you? He's +very suspicious. You see, he knows that his father has re-sold that +land to you; that's what he can't make out--that, and my coming here +this morning; he knows something's being kept from him; and he +noticed that man with Dawker yesterday. And my maid's been spying +on me. It's in the air. He puts two and two together. But I've +told him there's nothing he need worry about; nothing that's true. + +HILLCRIST. What a coil! + +CHLOE. I'm very honest and careful about money. So he won't +believe that about me, and the old man wants to keep it from +Charlie, I know. + +HILLCRIST. That does seem the best way out. + +CHLOE. [With a touch of defiance] I'm a true wife to him. + +CHLOE. Of course we know that. + +HILLCRIST. It's all unspeakably sad. Deception's horribly against +the grain--but---- + +CHLOE. [Eagerly] When I deceived him, I'd have deceived God +Himself--I was so desperate. You've never been right down in the +mud. You can't understand what I've been through. + +HILLCRIST. Yes, Yes. I daresay I'd have done the same. I should +be the last to judge. + + [CHLOE covers her eyes with her hands.] + +There, there! Cheer up! [He puts his hand on her arm.] + +CHLOE. [To herself] Darling Dodo! + +CHLOE. [Starting] There's somebody at the door. I must go; I must +go. + + [She runs to the window and slips through the curtains.] + + [The handle of the door is again turned.] + +JILL. [Dismayed] Oh! It's locked--I forgot. + + [She spring to the door, unlocks and opens it, while HILLCRIST + goes to the bureau and sits down.] + +It's all right, Fellows; I was only saying something rather +important. + +FELLOWS. [Coming in a step or two and closing the door behind him] +Certainly, Miss. Mr. Charles 'Ornblower is in the hall. Wants to +see you, sir, or Mrs. Hillcrist. + +JILL. What a bore! Can you see him, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Er--yes. I suppose so. Show him in here, Fellows. + + [As FELLOWS goes out, JILL runs to the window, but has no time + to do more than adjust the curtains and spring over to stand by + her father, before CHARLES comes in. Though in evening + clothes, he is white and disheveled for so spruce a young + mean.] + +CHARLES. Is my wife here? + +HILLCRIST. No, sir. + +CHARLES. Has she been? + +HILLCRIST. This morning, I believe, Jill? + +JILL. Yes, she came this morning. + +CHARLES. [staring at her] I know that--now, I mean? + +JILL. No. + + [HILLCRIST shakes has head.] + +CHARLES. Tell me what was said this morning. + +HILLCRIST. I was not here this morning. + +CHARLES. Don't try to put me off. I know too much. [To JILL] +You. + +JILL. Shall I, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. No; I will. Won't you sit down? + +CHARLES. No. Go on. + +HILLCRIST. [Moistening his lips] It appears, Mr. Hornblower, that +my agent, Mr. Dawker-- + + [CHARLES, who is breathing hard, utters a sound of anger.] + +--that my agent happens to know a firm, who in old days employed +your wife. I should greatly prefer not to say any more, especially +as we don't believe the story. + +JILL. No; we don't. + +CHARLES. Go on! + +HILLCRIST. [Getting up] Come! If I were you, I should refuse to +listen to anything against my wife. + +CHARLES. Go on, I tell you. + +HILLCRIST. You insist? Well, they say there was some question +about the accounts, and your wife left them under a cloud. As I +told you, we don't believe it. + +CHARLES. [Passionately] Liars! + + [He makes a rush for the door.] + +HILLCRIST. [Starting] What did you say? + +JILL. [Catching his arm] Dodo! [Sotto voce] We are, you know. + +CHARLES. [Turning back to them] Why do you tell me that lie? When +I've just had the truth out of that little scoundrel! My wife's +been here; she put you up to it. + + [The face of CHLOE is seen transfixed between the curtains, + parted by her hands.] + +She--she put you up to it. Liar that she is--a living lie. For +three years a living lie! + + [HILLCRIST whose face alone is turned towards the curtains, + sees that listening face. His hand goes up from uncontrollable + emotion.] + +And hasn't now the pluck to tell me. I've done with her. I won't +own a child by such a woman. + + [With a little sighing sound CHLOE drops the curtain and + vanishes.] + +HILLCRIST. For God's sake, man, think of what you're saying. She's +in great distress. + +CHARLES. And what am I? + +JILL. She loves you, you know. + +CHARLES. Pretty love! That scoundrel Dawker told me--told me-- +Horrible! Horrible! + +HILLCRIST. I deeply regret that our quarrel should have brought +this about. + +CHARLES. [With intense bitterness] Yes, you've smashed my life. + + [Unseen by them, MRS. HILLCRIST has entered and stands by the + door, Left.] + +MRS. H. Would you have wished to live on in ignorance? [They all +turn to look at her.] + +CHARLES. [With a writhing movement] I don't know. But--you--you +did it. + +MRS. H. You shouldn't have attacked us. + +CHARLES. What did we do to you--compared with this? + +MRS. H. All you could. + +HILLCRIST. Enough, enough! What can we do to help you? + +CHARLES. Tell me where my wife is. + + [JILL draws the curtains apart--the window is open--JILL looks + out. They wait in silence.] + +JILL. We don't know. + +CHARLES. Then she was here? + +HILLCRIST. Yes, sir; and she heard you. + +CHARLES. All the better if she did. She knows how I feel. + +HILLCRIST. Brace up; be gentle with her. + +CHARLES. Gentle? A woman who--who---- + +HILLCRIST. A most unhappy creature. Come! + +CHARLES. Damn your sympathy! + + [He goes out into the moonlight, passing away.] + +JILL. Dodo, we ought to look for her; I'm awfully afraid. + +HILLCRIST. I saw her there--listening. With child! Who knows +where things end when they and begin? To the gravel pit, Jill; I'll +go to the pond. No, we'll go together. [They go out.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST comes down to the fireplace, rings the bell + and stands there, thinking. FELLOWS enters.] + +MRS. H. I want someone to go down to Mr. Dawker's. + +FELLOWS. Mr. Dawker is here, ma'am, waitin' to see you. + +MRS. H. Ask him to come in. Oh! and Fellows, you can tell the +Jackmans that they can go back to their cottage. + +FELLOWS. Very good, ma'am. [He goes out.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST searches at the bureau, finds and takes out the + deed. DAWKERS comes in; he has the appearance of a man whose + temper has been badly ruffled.] + +MRS. H. Charles Hornblower--how did it happen? + +DAWKER. He came to me. I said I knew nothing. He wouldn't take +it; went for me, abused me up hill and down dale; said he knew +everything, and then he began to threaten me. Well, I lost my +temper, and I told him. + +MRS. H. That's very serious, Dawker, after our promise. My husband +is most upset. + +DAWKER. [Sullenly] It's not my fault, ma'am; he shouldn't have +threatened and goaded me on. Besides, it's got out that there's a +scandal; common talk in the village--not the facts, but quite enough +to cook their goose here. They'll have to go. Better have done +with it, anyway, than have enemies at your door. + +MRS. H. Perhaps; but--Oh! Dawker, take charge of this. [She hands +him the deed] These people are desperate--and--I'm sot sure of my +husband when his feelings are worked on. + + [The sound of a car stopping.] + +DAWKER. [At the window, looking to the Left] Hornblower's, I +think. Yes, he's getting out. + +MRS. H. [Bracing herself] You'd better wait, then. + +DAWKER. He mustn't give me any of his sauce; I've had enough. + + [The door is opened and HORNBLOWER enters, pressing so on the + heels of FELLOWS that the announcement of his name is lost.] + +HORNBLOWER. Give me that deed! Ye got it out of me by false +pretences and treachery. Ye swore that nothing should be heard of +this. Why! me own servants know. + +MRS. H. That has nothing to do with us. Your son came and wrenched +the knowledge out of Mr. DAWKER by abuse and threats; that is all. +You will kindly behave yourself here, or I shall ask that you be +shown out. + +HORNBLOWER. Give me that deed, I say! [He suddenly turns on +DAWKER] Ye little ruffian, I see it in your pocket. + + [The end indeed is projecting from DAWKER'S breast pocket.] + +DAWKER. [Seeing red] Now, look 'ere, 'Ornblower, I stood a deal +from your son, and I'll stand no more. + +HORNBLOWER. [To MRS. HILLCRIST] I'll ruin your place yet! [To +DAWKER] Ye give me that deed, or I'll throttle ye. + + [He closes on DAWKER, and makes a snatch at the deed. DAWKER, + springs at him, and the two stand swaying, trying for a grip at + each other's throats. MRS. HILLCRIST tries to cross and reach + the bell, but is shut off by their swaying struggle.] + + [Suddenly ROLF appears in the window, looks wildly at the + struggle, and seizes DAWKER'S hands, which have reached + HORNBLOWER'S throat. JILL, who is following, rushes up to him + and clutches his arm.] + +JILL. Rolf! All of you! Stop! Look! + + [DAWKER'S hand relaxes, and he is swung round. HORNBLOWER + staggers and recovers himself, gasping for breath. All turn to + the window, outside which in the moonlight HILLCRIST and + CHARLES HORNBLOWER have CHLOE'S motionless body in their arms.] + +In the gravel pit. She's just breathing; that's all. + +MRS. H. Bring her in. The brandy, Jill! + +HORNBLOWER. No. Take her to the car. Stand back, young woman! I +want no help from any of ye. Rolf--Chearlie--take her up. + + [They lift and bear her away, Left. JILL follows.] + +Hillcrist, ye've got me beaten and disgraced hereabouts, ye've +destroyed my son's married life, and ye've killed my grandchild. +I'm not staying in this cursed spot, but if ever I can do you or +yours a hurt, I will. + +DAWKER. [Muttering] That's right. Squeal and threaten. You began +it. + +HILLCRIST. Dawker, have the goodness! Hornblower, in the presence +of what may be death, with all my heart I'm sorry. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye hypocrite! + + [He passes them with a certain dignity, and goes out at the + window, following to his car.] + + [HILLCRIST who has stood for a moment stock-still, goes slowly + forward and sits in his swivel chair.] + +MRS. H. Dawker, please tell Fellows to telephone to Dr. Robinson to +go round to the Hornblowers at once. + + [DAWKER, fingering the deed, and with a noise that sounds like + "The cur!" goes out, Left.] + + [At the fireplace] + +Jack! Do you blame me? + +HILLCRIST. [Motionless] No. + +MRS. H. Or Dawker? He's done his best. + +HILLCRIST. No. + +MRS. H. [Approaching] What is it? + +HILLCRIST. Hypocrite! + + [JILL comes running in at the window.] + +JILL. Dodo, she's moved; she's spoken. It may not be so bad. + +HILLCRIST. Thank God for that! + + [FELLOWS enters, Left.] + +FELLOWS. The Jackmans, ma'am. + +HILLCRIST. Who? What's this? + + [The JACKMANS have entered, standing close to the door.] + +MRS. J. We're so glad we can go back, sir--ma'am, we just wanted to +thank you. + + [There is a silence. They see that they are not welcome.] + +Thank you kindly, sir. Good night, ma'am. + + [They shuffle out. ] + +HILLCRIST. I'd forgotten their existence. [He gets up] What is it +that gets loose when you begin a fight, and makes you what you think +you're not? What blinding evil! Begin as you may, it ends in this +--skin game! Skin game! + +JILL. [Rushing to him] It's not you, Dodo; it's not you, beloved +Dodo. + +HILLCRIST. It is me. For I am, or should be, master in this house! + +MRS. H. I don't understand. + +HILLCRIST. When we began this fight, we had clean hands--are they +clean' now? What's gentility worth if it can't stand fire? + + +CURTAIN + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fourth Series Plays, Complete +by John Galsworthy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FOURTH SERIES PLAYS, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 5058.txt or 5058.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/5/5058/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/5058.zip b/5058.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..db7a285 --- /dev/null +++ b/5058.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9428c47 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #5058 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5058) diff --git a/old/gpl4w10.txt b/old/gpl4w10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1bbcaf0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/gpl4w10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10765 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Fourth Series Plays, Complete +*** [Contains: A Bit O'Love, Foundations, Skin Game] *** +#42 in our series by John Galsworthy + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + +Title: The Fourth Series Plays, Complete + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5058] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on April 11, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FOURTH SERIES PLAYS BY GALSWORTHY *** + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + + + +THE FOURTH SERIES PLAYS, Complete + +By John Galsworthy + +Contents: + A Bit O'Love + The Foundations + The Skin Game + + + + +A BIT O' LOVE + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +MICHAEL STRANGWAY +BEATRICE STRANGWAY +MRS. BRADMERE +JIM BERE +JACK CREMER +MRS. BURLACOMBE +BURLACOMBE +TRUSTAFORD +JARLAND +CLYST +FREMAN +GODLEIGH +SOL POTTER +MORSE, AND OTHERS +IVY BURLACOMBE +CONNIE TRUSTAFORD +GLADYS FREMAN +MERCY JARLAND +TIBBY JARLAND +BOBBIE JARLAND + + + + +SCENE: A VILLAGE OF THE WEST + +The Action passes on Ascension Day. + +ACT I. STRANGWAY'S rooms at BURLACOMBE'S. Morning. + +ACT II. Evening + + SCENE I. The Village Inn. + SCENE II. The same. + SCENE III. Outside the church. + +ACT III. Evening + + SCENE I. STRANGWAY'S rooms. + SCENE II. BURLACOMBE'S barn. + + + +A BIT O' LOVE + + +ACT I + + It is Ascension Day in a village of the West. In the low + panelled hall-sittingroom of the BURLACOMBE'S farmhouse on the + village green, MICHAEL STRANGWAY, a clerical collar round his + throat and a dark Norfolk jacket on his back, is playing the + flute before a very large framed photograph of a woman, which is + the only picture on the walls. His age is about thirty-five his + figure thin and very upright and his clean-shorn face thin, + upright, narrow, with long and rather pointed ears; his dark + hair is brushed in a coxcomb off his forehead. A faint smile + hovers about his lips that Nature has made rather full and he + has made thin, as though keeping a hard secret; but his bright + grey eyes, dark round the rim, look out and upwards almost as if + he were being crucified. There is something about the whole of + him that makes him seen not quite present. A gentle creature, + burnt within. + + A low broad window above a window-seat forms the background to + his figure; and through its lattice panes are seen the outer + gate and yew-trees of a churchyard and the porch of a church, + bathed in May sunlight. The front door at right angles to the + window-seat, leads to the village green, and a door on the left + into the house. + + It is the third movement of Veracini's violin sonata that + STRANGWAY plays. His back is turned to the door into the house, + and he does not hear when it is opened, and IVY BURLACOMBE, the + farmer's daughter, a girl of fourteen, small and quiet as a + mouse, comes in, a prayer-book in one hand, and in the other a + gloss of water, with wild orchis and a bit of deep pink + hawthorn. She sits down on the window-seat, and having opened + her book, sniffs at the flowers. Coming to the end of the + movement STRANGWAY stops, and looking up at the face on the + wall, heaves a long sigh. + +IVY. [From the seat] I picked these for yu, Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. [Turning with a start] Ah! Ivy. Thank you. [He puts +his flute down on a chair against the far wall] Where are the +others? + + As he speaks, GLADYS FREMAN, a dark gipsyish girl, and CONNIE + TRUSTAFORD, a fair, stolid, blue-eyed Saxon, both about sixteen, + come in through the front door, behind which they have evidently + been listening. They too have prayer-books in their hands. + They sidle past Ivy, and also sit down under the window. + +GLADYS. Mercy's comin', Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. Good morning, Gladys; good morning, Connie. + + He turns to a book-case on a table against the far wall, and + taking out a book, finds his place in it. While he stands thus + with his back to the girls, MERCY JARLAND comes in from the + green. She also is about sixteen, with fair hair and china-blue + eyes. She glides in quickly, hiding something behind her, and + sits down on the seat next the door. And at once there is a + whispering. + +STRANGWAY. [Turning to them] Good morning, Mercy. + +MERCY. Good morning, Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. Now, yesterday I was telling you what our Lord's coming +meant to the world. I want you to understand that before He came +there wasn't really love, as we know it. I don't mean to say that +there weren't many good people; but there wasn't love for the sake of +loving. D'you think you understand what I mean? + + MERCY fidgets. GLADYS'S eyes are following a fly. + +IVY. Yes, Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. It isn't enough to love people because they're good to +you, or because in some way or other you're going to get something by +it. We have to love because we love loving. That's the great thing- +-without that we're nothing but Pagans. + +GLADYS. Please, what is Pagans? + +STRANGWAY. That's what the first Christians called the people who +lived in the villages and were not yet Christians, Gladys. + +MERCY. We live in a village, but we're Christians. + +STRANGWAY. [With a smile] Yes, Mercy; and what is a Christian? + + MERCY kicks afoot, sideways against her neighbour, frowns over + her china-blare eyes, is silent; then, as his question passes + on, makes a quick little face, wriggles, and looks behind her. + +STRANGWAY. Ivy? + +IVY. 'Tis a man--whu--whu---- + +STRANGWAY. Yes?--Connie? + +CONNIE. [Who speaks rather thickly, as if she had a permanent slight +cold] Please, Mr. Strangway, 'tis a man what goes to church. + +GLADYS. He 'as to be baptised--and confirmed; and--and--buried. + +IVY. 'Tis a man whu--whu's gude and---- + +GLADYS. He don't drink, an' he don't beat his horses, an' he don't +hit back. + +MERCY. [Whispering] 'Tisn't your turn. [To STRANGWAY] 'Tis a man +like us. + +IVY. I know what Mrs. Strangway said it was, 'cause I asked her +once, before she went away. + +STRANGWAY. [Startled] Yes? + +IVY. She said it was a man whu forgave everything. + +STRANGWAY. Ah! + + The note of a cuckoo comes travelling. The girls are gazing at + STRANGWAY, who seems to have gone of into a dream. They begin + to fidget and whisper. + +CONNIE. Please, Mr. Strangway, father says if yu hit a man and he +don't hit yu back, he's no gude at all. + +MERCY. When Tommy Morse wouldn't fight, us pinched him--he did +squeal! [She giggles] Made me laugh! + +STRANGWAY. Did I ever tell you about St. Francis of Assisi? + +IVY. [Clasping her hands] No. + +STRANGWAY. Well, he was the best Christian, I think, that ever +lived--simply full of love and joy. + +IVY. I expect he's dead. + +STRANGWAY. About seven hundred years, Ivy. + +IVY. [Softly] Oh! + +STRANGWAY. Everything to him was brother or sister--the sun and the +moon, and all that was poor and weak and sad, and animals and birds, +so that they even used to follow him about. + +MERCY. I know! He had crumbs in his pocket. + +STRANGWAY. No; he had love in his eyes. + +IVY. 'Tis like about Orpheus, that yu told us. + +STRANGWAY. Ah! But St. Francis was a Christian, and Orpheus was a +Pagan. + +IVY. Oh! + +STRANGWAY. Orpheus drew everything after him with music; St. +Francis by love. + +IVY. Perhaps it was the same, really. + +STRANGWAY. [looking at his flute] Perhaps it was, Ivy. + +GLADYS. Did 'e 'ave a flute like yu? + +IVY. The flowers smell sweeter when they 'ear music; they du. + + [She holds up the glass of flowers.] + +STRANGWAY. [Touching one of the orchis] What's the name of this +one? + + [The girls cluster; save MERCY, who is taking a stealthy + interest in what she has behind her.] + +CONNIE. We call it a cuckoo, Mr. Strangway. + +GLADYS. 'Tis awful common down by the streams. We've got one medder +where 'tis so thick almost as the goldie cups. + +STRANGWAY. Odd! I've never noticed it. + +IVY. Please, Mr. Strangway, yu don't notice when yu're walkin'; yu +go along like this. + + [She holds up her face as one looking at the sky.] + +STRANGWAY. Bad as that, Ivy? + +IVY. Mrs. Strangway often used to pick it last spring. + +STRANGWAY. Did she? Did she? + + [He has gone off again into a kind of dream.] + +MERCY. I like being confirmed. + +STRANGWAY. Ah! Yes. Now----What's that behind you, Mercy? + +MERCY. [Engagingly producing a cage a little bigger than a +mouse-trap, containing a skylark] My skylark. + +STRANGWAY. What! + +MERCY. It can fly; but we're goin' to clip its wings. Bobbie caught +it. + +STRANGWAY. How long ago? + +MERCY. [Conscious of impending disaster] Yesterday. + +STRANGWAY. [White hot] Give me the cage! + +MERCY. [Puckering] I want my skylark. [As he steps up to her and +takes the cage--thoroughly alarmed] I gave Bobbie thrippence for it! + +STRANGWAY. [Producing a sixpence] There! + +MERCY. [Throwing it down-passionately] I want my skylark! + +STRANGWAY. God made this poor bird for the sky and the grass. And +you put it in that! Never cage any wild thing! Never! + +MERCY. [Faint and sullen] I want my skylark. + +STRANGWAY. [Taking the cage to the door] No! [He holds up the cage +and opens it] Off you go, poor thing! + + [The bird flies out and away. The girls watch with round eyes + the fling up of his arm, and the freed bird flying away.] + +IVY. I'm glad! + + [MERCY kicks her viciously and sobs. STRANGWAY comes from the + door, looks at MERCY sobbing, and suddenly clasps his head. The + girls watch him with a queer mixture of wonder, alarm, and + disapproval.] + +GLADYS. [Whispering] Don't cry, Mercy. Bobbie'll soon catch yu +another. + + [STRANGWAY has dropped his hands, and is looking again at MERCY. + IVY sits with hands clasped, gazing at STRANGWAY. MERCY + continues her artificial sobbing.] + +STRANGWAY. [Quietly] The class is over for to-day. + + [He goes up to MERCY, and holds out his hand. She does not take + it, and runs out knuckling her eyes. STRANGWAY turns on his + heel and goes into the house.] + +CONNIE. 'Twasn't his bird. + +IVY. Skylarks belong to the sky. Mr. Strangway said so. + +GLADYS. Not when they'm caught, they don't. + +IVY. They du. + +CONNIE. 'Twas her bird. + +IVY. He gave her sixpence for it. + +GLADYS. She didn't take it. + +CONNIE. There it is on the ground. + +IVY. She might have. + +GLADYS. He'll p'raps take my squirrel, tu. + +IVY. The bird sang--I 'eard it! Right up in the sky. It wouldn't +have sanged if it weren't glad. + +GLADYS. Well, Mercy cried. + +IVY. I don't care. + +GLADYS. 'Tis a shame! And I know something. Mrs. Strangway's at +Durford. + +CONNIE. She's--never! + +GLADYS. I saw her yesterday. An' if she's there she ought to be +here. I told mother, an' she said: "Yu mind yer business." An' when +she goes in to market to-morrow she'm goin' to see. An' if she's +really there, mother says, 'tis a fine tu-du an' a praaper scandal. +So I know a lot more'n yu du. + + [Ivy stares at her.] + +CONNIE. Mrs. Strangway told mother she was goin' to France for the +winter because her mother was ill. + +GLADYS. 'Tisn't, winter now--Ascension Day. I saw her cumin' out o' +Dr. Desert's house. I know 'twas her because she had on a blue dress +an' a proud luke. Mother says the doctor come over here tu often +before Mrs. Strangway went away, just afore Christmas. They was old +sweethearts before she married Mr. Strangway. [To Ivy] 'Twas yure +mother told mother that. + + [Ivy gazes at them more and more wide-eyed.] + +CONNIE. Father says if Mrs. Bradmere an' the old Rector knew about +the doctor, they wouldn't 'ave Mr. Strangway 'ere for curate any +longer; because mother says it takes more'n a year for a gude wife to +leave her 'usband, an' 'e so fond of her. But 'tisn't no business of +ours, father says. + +GLADYS. Mother says so tu. She's praaper set against gossip. +She'll know all about it to-morrow after market. + +IVY. [Stamping her foot] I don't want to 'ear nothin' at all; I +don't, an' I won't. + + [A rather shame faced silence falls on the girls.] + +GLADYS. [In a quick whisper] 'Ere's Mrs. Burlacombe. + + [There enters fawn the house a stout motherly woman with a round + grey eye and very red cheeks.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Ivy, take Mr. Strangway his ink, or we'll never +'eve no sermon to-night. He'm in his thinkin' box, but 'tis not a +bit o' yuse 'im thinkin' without 'is ink. [She hands her daughter an +inkpot and blotting-pad. Ivy Takes them and goes out] What ever's +this? [She picks up the little bird-cage.] + +GLADYS. 'Tis Mercy Jarland's. Mr. Strangway let her skylark go. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! Did 'e now? Serve 'er right, bringin' an +'eathen bird to confirmation class. + +CONNIE. I'll take it to her. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. No. Yu leave it there, an' let Mr. Strangway du +what 'e likes with it. Bringin' a bird like that! Well 'I never! + + [The girls, perceiving that they have lighted on stony soil, + look at each other and slide towards the door.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Yes, yu just be off, an' think on what yu've been +told in class, an' be'ave like Christians, that's gude maids. An' +don't yu come no more in the 'avenin's dancin' them 'eathen dances in +my barn, naighther, till after yu'm confirmed--'tisn't right. I've +told Ivy I won't 'ave it. + +CONNIE. Mr. Strangway don't mind--he likes us to; 'twas Mrs. +Strangway began teachin' us. He's goin' to give a prize. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Yu just du what I tell yu an' never mind Mr. +Strangway--he'm tu kind to everyone. D'yu think I don't know how +gells oughter be'ave before confirmation? Yu be'ave like I did! +Now, goo ahn! Shoo! + + [She hustles them out, rather as she might hustle her chickens, + and begins tidying the room. There comes a wandering figure to + the open window. It is that of a man of about thirty-five, of + feeble gait, leaning the weight of all one side of him on a + stick. His dark face, with black hair, one lock of which has + gone white, was evidently once that of an ardent man. Now it is + slack, weakly smiling, and the brown eyes are lost, and seem + always to be asking something to which there is no answer.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [With that forced cheerfulness always assumed in +the face of too great misfortune] Well, Jim! better? [At the faint +brightening of the smile] That's right! Yu'm gettin' on bravely. +Want Parson? + +JIM. [Nodding and smiling, and speaking slowly] I want to tell 'un +about my cat. + + [His face loses its smile.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Why! what's she been duin' then? Mr. Strangway's +busy. Won't I du? + +JIM. [Shaking his head] No. I want to tell him. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Whatever she been duin'? Havin' kittens? + +JIM. No. She'm lost. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Dearie me! Aw! she'm not lost. Cats be like +maids; they must get out a bit. + +JIM. She'm lost. Maybe he'll know where she'll be. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Well, well. I'll go an' find 'im. + +JIM. He's a gude man. He's very gude. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. That's certain zure. + +STRANGWAY. [Entering from the house] Mrs. Burlacombe, I can't think +where I've put my book on St. Francis--the large, squarish pale-blue +one? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! there now! I knu there was somethin' on me +mind. Miss Willis she came in yesterday afternune when yu was out, +to borrow it. Oh! yes--I said--I'm zure Mr. Strangway'll lend it +'ee. Now think o' that! + +STRANGWAY. Of course, Mrs. Burlacombe; very glad she's got it. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! but that's not all. When I tuk it up there +come out a whole flutter o' little bits o' paper wi' little rhymes on +'em, same as I see yu writin'. Aw! my gudeness! I says to meself, +Mr. Strangway widn' want no one seein' them. + +STRANGWAY. Dear me! No; certainly not! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. An' so I putt 'em in your secretary. + +STRANGWAY. My-ah! Yes. Thank you; yes. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. But I'll goo over an' get the buke for yu. +'T won't take me 'alf a minit. + + [She goes out on to the green. JIM BERE has come in.] + +STRANGWAY. [Gently] Well, Jim? + +JIM. My cat's lost. + +STRANGWAY. Lost? + +JIM. Day before yesterday. She'm not come back. They've shot 'er, +I think; or she'm caught in one o' they rabbit-traps. + +STRANGWAY. Oh! no; my dear fellow, she'll come back. I'll speak to +Sir Herbert's keepers. + +JIM. Yes, zurr. I feel lonesome without 'er. + +STRANGWAY. [With a faint smile--more to himself than to Jim] +Lonesome! Yes! That's bad, Jim! That's bad! + +JIM. I miss 'er when I sits than in the avenin'. + +STRANGWAY. The evenings----They're the worst----and when the +blackbirds sing in the morning. + +JIM. She used to lie on my bed, ye know, zurr. + + [STRANGWAY turns his face away, contracted with pain] + +She'm like a Christian. + +STRANGWAY. The beasts are. + +JIM. There's plenty folk ain't 'alf as Christian as 'er be. + +STRANGWAY. Well, dear Jim, I'll do my very best. And any time +you're lonely, come up, and I'll play the flute to you. + +JIM. [Wriggling slightly] No, zurr. Thank 'ee, zurr. + +STRANGWAY. What--don't you like music? + +JIM. Ye-es, zurr. [A figure passes the window. Seeing it he says +with his slow smile] "'Ere's Mrs. Bradmere, comin' from the Rectory." +[With queer malice] She don't like cats. But she'm a cat 'erself, I +think. + +STRANGWAY. [With his smile] Jim! + +JIM. She'm always tellin' me I'm lukin' better. I'm not better, +zurr. + +STRANGWAY. That's her kindness. + +JIM. I don't think it is. 'Tis laziness, an' 'avin' 'er own way. +She'm very fond of 'er own way. + + [A knock on the door cuts off his speech. Following closely on + the knock, as though no doors were licensed to be closed against + her, a grey-haired lady enters; a capable, broad-faced woman of + seventy, whose every tone and movement exhales authority. With + a nod and a "good morning" to STRANGWAY she turns at face to JIM + BERE.] + +MRS. BRADMERE Ah! Jim; you're looking better. + + [JIM BERE shakes his head. MRS. BRADMERE. Oh! yes, you are. + Getting on splendidly. And now, I just want to speak to Mr. + Strangway.] + + [JIM BERE touches his forelock, and slowly, leaning on his + stick, goes out.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Waiting for the door to close] You know how that +came on him? Caught the girl he was engaged to, one night, with +another man, the rage broke something here. [She touches her +forehead] Four years ago. + +STRANGWAY. Poor fellow! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Looking at him sharply] Is your wife back? + +STRANGWAY. [Starting] No. + +MRS. BRADMERE. By the way, poor Mrs. Cremer--is she any better? + +STRANGWAY. No; going fast: Wonderful--so patient. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [With gruff sympathy] Um! Yes. They know how to +die! [Wide another sharp look at him] D'you expect your wife soon? + +STRANGWAY. I I--hope so. + +MRS. BRADMERE: So do I. The sooner the better. + +STRANGWAY. [Shrinking] I trust the Rector's not suffering so much +this morning? + +MRS. BRADMERE. Thank you! His foot's very bad. + + [As she speaks Mrs. BURLACOMBE returns with a large pale-blue + book in her bared.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Good day, M'm! [Taking the book across to +STRANGWAY] Miss Willie, she says she'm very sorry, zurr. + +STRANGWAY. She was very welcome, Mrs. Burlacombe. [To MRS. +BURLACOMBE] Forgive me--my sermon. + + [He goes into the house. The two women graze after him. Then, + at once, as it were, draw into themselves, as if preparing for + an encounter, and yet seem to expand as if losing the need for + restraint.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Abruptly] He misses his wife very much, I'm afraid. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Ah! Don't he? Poor dear man; he keeps a terrible +tight 'and over 'imself, but 'tis suthin' cruel the way he walks +about at night. He'm just like a cow when its calf's weaned. 'T'as +gone to me 'eart truly to see 'im these months past. T'other day +when I went up to du his rume, I yeard a noise like this [she +sniffs]; an' ther' 'e was at the wardrobe, snuffin' at 'er things. I +did never think a man cud care for a woman so much as that. + +MRS. BRADMERE. H'm! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tis funny rest an' 'e comin' 'ere for quiet after +that tearin' great London parish! 'E'm terrible absent-minded tu- +-don't take no interest in 'is fude. Yesterday, goin' on for one +o'clock, 'e says to me, "I expect 'tis nearly breakfast-time, Mrs. +Burlacombe!" 'E'd 'ad it twice already! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Twice! Nonsense! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Zurely! I give 'im a nummit afore 'e gets up; an' +'e 'as 'is brekjus reg'lar at nine. Must feed un up. He'm on 'is +feet all day, gain' to zee folk that widden want to zee an angel, +they're that busy; an' when 'e comes in 'e'll play 'is flute there. +Hem wastin' away for want of 'is wife. That's what 'tis. An' 'im so +sweet-spoken, tu, 'tes a pleasure to year 'im--Never says a word! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Yes, that's the kind of man who gets treated badly. +I'm afraid she's not worthy of him, Mrs. Burlacombe. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Plaiting her apron] 'Tesn't for me to zay that. +She'm a very pleasant lady. + +MRS. BRADMERE Too pleasant. What's this story about her being seen +in Durford? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! I du never year no gossip, m'm. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Drily] Of course not! But you see the Rector +wishes to know. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Flustered] Well--folk will talk! But, as I says +to Burlacombe--"'Tes paltry," I says; and they only married eighteen +months, and Mr. Strangway so devoted-like. 'Tes nothing but love, +with 'im. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Come! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. There's puzzivantin' folk as'll set an' gossip the +feathers off an angel. But I du never listen. + +MRS. BRADMERE Now then, Mrs. Burlacombe? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Well, they du say as how Dr. Desart over to Durford +and Mrs. Strangway was sweethearts afore she wer' married. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I knew that. Who was it saw her coming out of Dr. +Desart's house yesterday? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. In a manner of spakin' 'tes Mrs. Freman that says +'er Gladys seen her. + +MRS. BRADMERE. That child's got an eye like a hawk. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes wonderful how things du spread. 'Tesn't as if +us gossiped. Du seem to grow-like in the naight. + +MRS. BRADMERE [To herself] I never lied her. That Riviera excuse, +Mrs. Burlacombe--Very convenient things, sick mothers. Mr. +Strangway doesn't know? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. The Lord forbid! 'Twid send un crazy, I think. +For all he'm so moony an' gentlelike, I think he'm a terrible +passionate man inside. He've a-got a saint in 'im, for zure; but +'tes only 'alf-baked, in a manner of spakin'. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I shall go and see Mrs. Freman. There's been too +much of this gossip all the winter. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes unfortunate-like 'tes the Fremans. Freman +he'm a gipsy sort of a feller; and he've never forgiven Mr. Strangway +for spakin' to 'im about the way he trates 'is 'orses. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Ah! I'm afraid Mr. Strangway's not too discreet when +his feelings are touched. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'E've a-got an 'eart so big as the full mune. But +'tes no yuse espectin' tu much o' this world. 'Tes a funny place, +after that. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Yes, Mrs. Burlacombe; and I shall give some of these +good people a rare rap over the knuckles for their want of charity. +For all they look as if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, they're +an un-Christian lot. [Looking very directly at Mrs. BURLACOMBE] +It's lucky we've some hold over the village. I'm not going to have +scandal. I shall speak to Sir Herbert, and he and the Rector will +take steps. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [With covert malice] Aw! I du hope 'twon't upset +the Rector, an' 'is fute so poptious! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Grimly] His foot'll be sound enough to come down +sharp. By the way, will you send me a duck up to the Rectory? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Glad to get away] Zurely, m'm; at once. I've +some luv'ly fat birds. + + [She goes into the house.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Old puss-cat! + + [She turns to go, and in the doorway encounters a very little, + red-cheeked girl in a peacock-blue cap, and pink frock, who + curtsies stolidly.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Well, Tibby Jarland, what do you want here? Always +sucking something, aren't you? + + [Getting no reply from Tibby JARLAND, she passes out. Tibby + comes in, looks round, takes a large sweet out of her mouth, + contemplates it, and puts it back again. Then, in a perfunctory + and very stolid fashion, she looks about the floor, as if she + had been told to find something. While she is finding nothing + and sucking her sweet, her sister MERCY comes in furtively, + still frowning and vindictive.] + +MERCY. What! Haven't you found it, Tibby? Get along with 'ee, +then! + + [She accelerates the stolid Tissy's departure with a smack, + searches under the seat, finds and picks up the deserted + sixpence. Then very quickly she goes to the door: But it is + opened before she reaches it, and, finding herself caught, she + slips behind the chintz window-curtain. A woman has entered, + who is clearly the original of the large photograph. She is not + strictly pretty, but there is charm in her pale, resolute face, + with its mocking lips, flexible brows, and greenish eyes, whose + lids, square above them, have short, dark lashes. She is + dressed in blue, and her fair hair is coiled up under a cap and + motor-veil. She comes in swiftly, and closes the door behind + her; becomes irresolute; then, suddenly deciding, moves towards + the door into the house. MERCY slips from behind her curtain to + make off, but at that moment the door into the house is opened, + and she has at once to slip back again into covert. It is Ivy + who has appeared.] + +IVY. [Amazed] Oh! Mrs. Strangway! + + [Evidently disconcerted by this appearance, BEATRICE STRANGWAY + pulls herself together and confronts the child with a smile.] + +BEATRICE. Well, Ivy--you've grown! You didn't expect me, did you? + +IVY. No, Mrs. Strangway; but I hoped yu'd be comin' soon. + +BEATRICE. Ah! Yes. Is Mr. Strangway in? + +IVY. [Hypnotized by those faintly smiling lips] Yes--oh, yes! He's +writin' his sermon in the little room. He will be glad! + +BEATRICE. [Going a little closer, and never taking her eyes off the +child] Yes. Now, Ivy; will you do something for me? + +IVY. [Fluttering] Oh, yes, Mrs. Strangway. + +BEATRICE. Quite sure? + +IVY. Oh, yes! + +BEATRICE. Are you old enough to keep a secret? + +IVY. [Nodding] I'm fourteen now. + +BEATRICE. Well, then--, I don't want anybody but Mr. Strangway to +know I've been here; nobody, not even your mother. D'you understand? + +IVY. [Troubled] No. Only, I can keep a secret. + +BEATRICE. Mind, if anybody hears, it will hurt Mr. Strangway. + +IVY. Oh! I wouldn't--hurt--him. Must yu go away again? [Trembling +towards her] I wish yu wer goin' to stay. And perhaps some one has +seen yu--They---- + +BEATRICE. [Hastily] No, no one. I came motoring; like this. [She +moves her veil to show how it can conceal her face] And I came +straight down the little lane, and through the barn, across the yard. + +IVY. [Timidly] People du see a lot. + +BEATRICE. [Still with that hovering smile] I know, but----Now go +and tell him quickly and quietly. + +IVY. [Stopping at the door] Mother's pluckin' a duck. Only, +please, Mrs. Strangway, if she comes in even after vu've gone, she'll +know, because--because yu always have that particular nice scent. + +BEATRICE. Thank you, my child. I'll see to that. + + [Ivy looks at her as if she would speak again, then turns + suddenly, and goes out. BEATRICE'S face darkens; she shivers. + Taking out a little cigarette case, she lights a cigarette, and + watches the puff's of smoke wreathe shout her and die away. The + frightened MERCY peers out, spying for a chance, to escape. + Then from the house STRANGWAY comes in. All his dreaminess is + gone.] + +STRANGWAY. Thank God! [He stops at the look on her face] I don't +understand, though. I thought you were still out there. + +BEATRICE. [Letting her cigarette fall, and putting her foot on it] +No. + +STRANGWAY: You're staying? Oh! Beatrice; come! We'll get away from +here at once--as far, as far--anywhere you like. Oh! my darling- +-only come! If you knew---- + +BEATRICE. It's no good, Michael; I've tried and tried. + +STRANGWAY. Not! Then, why--? Beatrice! You said, when you were +right away--I've waited---- + +BEATRICE. I know. It's cruel--it's horrible. But I told you not to +hope, Michael. I've done my best. All these months at Mentone, I've +been wondering why I ever let you marry me--when that feeling wasn't +dead! + +STRANGWAY. You can't have come back just to leave me again? + +BEATRICE. When you let me go out there with mother I thought--I did +think I would be able; and I had begun--and then--spring came! + +STRANGWAY. Spring came here too! Never so--aching! Beatrice, can't +you? + +BEATRICE. I've something to say. + +STRANGWAY. No! No! No! + +BEATRICE. You see--I've--fallen. + +STBANGWAY. Ah! [In a twice sharpened by pain] Why, in the name of +mercy, come here to tell me that? Was he out there, then? + +BEATRICE. I came straight back to him. + +STRANGGWAY. To Durford? + +BEATRICE. To the Crossway Hotel, miles out--in my own name. They +don't know me there. I told you not to hope, Michael. I've done my +best; I swear it. + +STRANGWAY. My God! + +BEATRICE. It was your God that brought us to live near him! + +STRANGWAY. Why have you come to me like this? + +BEATRICE. To know what you're going to do. Are you going to divorce +me? We're in your power. Don't divorce me--Doctor and patient--you +must know--it ruins him. He'll lose everything. He'd be +disqualified, and he hasn't a penny without his work. + +STRANGWAY. Why should I spare him? + +BEATRICE. Michael; I came to beg. It's hard. + +STRANGWAY. No; don't beg! I can't stand it. + + [She shakes her head.] + +BEATRICE. [Recovering her pride] What are you going to do, then? +Keep us apart by the threat of a divorce? Starve us and prison us? +Cage me up here with you? I'm not brute enough to ruin him. + +STRANGWAY. Heaven! + +BEATRICE. I never really stopped loving him. I never--loved you, +Michael. + +STRANGWAY. [Stunned] Is that true? [BEATRICE bends her head] +Never loved me? Not--that night--on the river--not----? + +BEATRICE. [Under her breath] No. + +STRANGWAY. Were you lying to me, then? Kissing me, and--hating me? + +BEATRICE. One doesn't hate men like you; but it wasn't love. + +STRANGWAY. Why did you tell me it was? + +BEATRICE. Yes. That was the worst thing I've ever done. + +STRANGWAY. Do you think I would have married you? I would have +burned first! I never dreamed you didn't. I swear it! + +BEATRICE. [Very low] Forget it! + +STRANGWAY. Did he try to get you away from me? [BEATRICE gives him +a swift look] Tell me the truth! + +BEATRICE. No. It was--I--alone. But--he loves me. + +STRANGWAY. One does not easily know love, it seems. + + [But her smile, faint, mysterious, pitying, is enough, and he + turns away from her.] + +BEATRICE. It was cruel to come, I know. For me, too. But I +couldn't write. I had to know. + +STRANGWAY. Never loved me? Never loved me? That night at Tregaron? +[At the look on her face] You might have told me before you went +away! Why keep me all these---- + +BEATRICE. I meant to forget him again. I did mean to. I thought I +could get back to what I was, when I married you; but, you see, what +a girl can do, a woman that's been married--can't. + +STRANGWAY. Then it was I--my kisses that----! [He laughs] How did +you stand them? [His eyes dart at her face] Imagination helped you, +perhaps! + +BEATRICE. Michael, don't, don't! And--oh! don't make a public thing +of it! You needn't be afraid I shall have too good a time! + + [He stays quite still and silent, and that which is writhing in + him makes his face so strange that BEATRICE stands aghast. At + last she goes stumbling on in speech] + +If ever you want to marry some one else--then, of course--that's only +fair, ruin or not. But till then--till then----He's leaving +Durford, going to Brighton. No one need know. And you--this isn't +the only parish in the world. + +STRANGWAY. [Quietly] You ask me to help you live in secret with +another man? + +BEATRICE. I ask for mercy. + +STRANGWAY. [As to himself] What am I to do? + +BEATRICE. What you feel in the bottom of your heart. + +STRANGWAY. You ask me to help you live in sin? + +BEATRICE. To let me go out of your life. You've only to do-- +nothing. [He goes, slowly, close to her.] + +STRANGWAY. I want you. Come back to me! Beatrice, come back! + +BEATRICE. It would be torture, now. + +STANGWAY. [Writhing] Oh! + +BEATRICE. Whatever's in your heart--do! + +STRANGWAY. You'd come back to me sooner than ruin him? Would you? + +BEATRICE. I can't bring him harm. + +STRANGWAY. [Turning away] God!--if there be one help me! [He +stands leaning his forehead against the window. Suddenly his glance +falls on the little bird cage, still lying on the window-seat] Never +cage any wild thing! [He gives a laugh that is half a sob; then, +turning to the door, says in a low voice] Go! Go please, quickly! +Do what you will. I won't hurt you--can't----But--go! [He opens +the door.] + +BEATRICE. [Greatly moved] Thank you! + + [She passes him with her head down, and goes out quickly. + STRANGWAY stands unconsciously tearing at the little bird-cage. + And while he tears at it he utters a moaning sound. The + terrified MERCY, peering from behind the curtain, and watching + her chance, slips to the still open door; but in her haste and + fright she knocks against it, and STRANGWAY sees her. Before he + can stop her she has fled out on to the green and away.] + + [While he stands there, paralysed, the door from the house is + opened, and MRS. BURLACOMBE approaches him in a queer, hushed + way.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Her eyes mechanically fixed on the twisted +bird-cage in his hands] 'Tis poor Sue Cremer, zurr, I didn't 'ardly +think she'd last thru the mornin'. An' zure enough she'm passed +away! [Seeing that he has not taken in her words] Mr. Strangway-- +yu'm feelin' giddy? + +STRANGWAY. No, no! What was it? You said---- + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes Jack Cremer. His wife's gone. 'E'm in a +terrible way. 'Tes only yu, 'e ses, can du 'im any gude. He'm in +the kitchen. + +STRANGWAY. Cremer? Yes! Of course. Let him---- + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Still staring at the twisted cage] Yu ain't +wantin' that--'tes all twizzled. [She takes it from him] Sure yu'm +not feelin' yer 'ead? + +STRANGWAY. [With a resolute effort] No! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Doubtfully] I'll send 'im in, then. [She goes. +When she is gone, Strangway passes his handkerchief across his +forehead, and his lips move fast. He is standing motionless when +CREMER, a big man in labourer's clothes, with a thick, broad face, +and tragic, faithful eyes, comes in, and stands a little in from the +elosed door, quite dumb.] + +STRANGWAY. [After a moment's silence--going up to him and laying a +hand on his shoulder] Jack! Don't give way. If we give way--we're +done. + +CREMER. Yes, zurr. [A quiver passes over his face.] + +STRANGWAY. She didn't. Your wife was a brave woman. A dear woman. + +CREMER. I never thought to luse 'er. She never told me 'ow bad she +was, afore she tuk to 'er bed. 'Tis a dreadful thing to luse a wife, +zurr. + +STRANGWAY. [Tightening his lips, that tremble] Yes. But don't give +way! Bear up, Jack! + +CREMER. Seems funny 'er goin' blue-bell time, an' the sun shinin' so +warm. I picked up an 'orse-shu yesterday. I can't never 'ave 'er +back, zurr. + + [His face quivers again.] + +STRANGWAY. Some day you'll join her. Think! Some lose their wives +for ever. + +CREMER. I don't believe as there's a future life, zurr. I think we +goo to sleep like the beasts. + +STRANGWAY. We're told otherwise. But come here! [Drawing him to +the window] Look! Listen! To sleep in that! Even if we do, it +won't be so bad, Jack, will it? + +CREMER. She wer' a gude wife to me--no man didn't 'ave no better +wife. + +STRANGWAY. [Putting his hand out] Take hold--hard--harder! I want +yours as much as you want mine. Pray for me, Jack, and I'll pray for +you. And we won't give way, will we? + +CREMER. [To whom the strangeness of these words has given some +relief] No, zurr; thank 'ee, zurr. 'Tes no gude, I expect. Only, +I'll miss 'er. Thank 'ee, zurr; kindly. + + [He lifts his hand to his head, turns, and uncertainly goes out + to the kitchen. And STRANGWAY stays where he is, not knowing + what to do. They blindly he takes up his flute, and hatless, + hurries out into the air.] + + + + + +ACT II + + +SCENE I + + About seven o'clock in the taproom of the village inn. The bar, + with the appurtenances thereof, stretches across one end, and + opposite is the porch door on to the green. The wall between is + nearly all window, with leaded panes, one wide-open casement + whereof lets in the last of the sunlight. A narrow bench runs + under this broad window. And this is all the furniture, save + three spittoons: + + GODLEIGH, the innkeeper, a smallish man with thick ruffled hair, + a loquacious nose, and apple-red cheeks above a reddish-brown + moustache; is reading the paper. To him enters TIBBY JARLAND + with a shilling in her mouth. + +GODLEIGH. Well, TIBBY JARLAND, what've yu come for, then? Glass o' +beer? + + [TIBBY takes the shilling from her mouth and smiles stolidly.] + +GODLEIGH. [Twinkling] I shid zay glass o' 'arf an' 'arf's about +yure form. [TIBBY smiles more broadly] Yu'm a praaper masterpiece. +Well! 'Ave sister Mercy borrowed yure tongue? [TIBBY shakes her +head] Aw, she 'aven't. Well, maid? + +TIBBY. Father wants six clay pipes, please. + +GODLEIGH. 'E du, du 'ee? Yu tell yure father 'e can't 'ave more'n +one, not this avenin'. And 'ere 'tis. Hand up yure shillin'. + + [TIBBY reaches up her hand, parts with the shilling, and + receives a long clay pipe and eleven pennies. In order to + secure the coins in her pinafore she places the clay pipe in her + mouth. While she is still thus engaged, MRS. BRADMERE enters + the porch and comes in. TIBBY curtsies stolidly.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Gracious, child! What are you doing here? And what +have you got in your mouth? Who is it? Tibby Jarland? [TIBBY +curtsies again] Take that thing out. And tell your father from me +that if I ever see you at the inn again I shall tread on his toes +hard. Godleigh, you know the law about children? + +GODLEIGH. [Cocking his eye, and not at all abashed] Surely, m'm. +But she will come. Go away, my dear. + + [TIBBY, never taking her eyes off MRS. BRADMERE, or the pipe + from her mouth, has backed stolidly to the door, and vanished.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Eyeing GODLEIGH] Now, Godleigh, I've come to talk +to you. Half the scandal that goes about the village begins here. +[She holds up her finger to check expostulation] No, no--its no +good. You know the value of scandal to your business far too well. + +GODLEIGH. Wi' all respect, m'm, I knows the vally of it to yourn, +tu. + +MRS. BRADMERE. What do you mean by that? + +GODLEIGH. If there weren't no Rector's lady there widden' be no +notice taken o' scandal; an' if there weren't no notice taken, +twidden be scandal, to my thinkin'. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Winking out a grim little smile] Very well! You've +given me your views. Now for mine. There's a piece of scandal going +about that's got to be stopped, Godleigh. You turn the tap of it off +here, or we'll turn your tap off. You know me. See? + +GODLEIGH. I shouldn' never presume, m'm, to know a lady. + +MRS. BRADMERE. The Rector's quite determined, so is Sir Herbert. +Ordinary scandal's bad enough, but this touches the Church. While +Mr. Strangway remains curate here, there must be no talk about him +and his affairs. + +GODLEIGH. [Cocking his eye] I was just thinkin' how to du it, m'm. +'Twid be a brave notion to putt the men in chokey, and slit the +women's tongues-like, same as they du in outlandish places, as I'm +told. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Don't talk nonsense, Godleigh; and mind what I say, +because I mean it. + +GODLEIGH. Make yure mind aisy, m'm there'll be no scandal-monkeyin' +here wi' my permission. + + [MRS. BRADMERE gives him a keen stare, but seeing him perfectly + grave, nods her head with approval.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Good! You know what's being said, of course? + +GODLEIGH. [With respectful gravity] Yu'll pardon me, m'm, but ef +an' in case yu was goin' to tell me, there's a rule in this 'ouse: +"No scandal 'ere!" + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Twinkling grimly] You're too smart by half, my man. + +GODLEIGH. Aw fegs, no, m'm--child in yure 'ands. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I wouldn't trust you a yard. Once more, Godleigh! +This is a Christian village, and we mean it to remain so. You look +out for yourself. + + [The door opens to admit the farmers TRUSTAFORD and BURLACOMBE. + They doff their hats to MRS. BRADMERE, who, after one more sharp + look at GODLEIGH, moves towards the door.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Evening, Mr. Trustaford. [To BURLACOMBE] +Burlacombe, tell your wife that duck she sent up was in hard +training. + + [With one of her grim winks, and a nod, she goes.] + +TRUSTAFORD. [Replacing a hat which is black, hard, and not very new, +on his long head, above a long face, clean-shaved but for little +whiskers] What's the old grey mare want, then? [With a horse-laugh] +'Er's lukin' awful wise! + +GODLEIGH. [Enigmatically] Ah! + +TRUSTAFORD. [Sitting on the bench dose to the bar] Drop o' whisky, +an' potash. + +BURLACOMBE. [A taciturn, alien, yellowish man, in a worn soft hat] +What's wise, Godleigh? Drop o' cider. + +GODLEIGH. Nuse? There's never no nuse in this 'ouse. Aw, no! Not +wi' my permission. [In imitation] This is a Christian village. + +TRUSTAFORD. Thought the old grey mare seemed mighty busy. [To +BURLACOMBE] 'Tes rather quare about the curate's wife a-cumin' +motorin' this mornin'. Passed me wi' her face all smothered up in a +veil, goggles an' all. Haw, haw! + +BURLACOMBE. Aye! + +TRUSTAFORD. Off again she was in 'alf an hour. 'Er didn't give poor +old curate much of a chance, after six months. + +GODLEIGH. Havin' an engagement elsewhere--No scandal, please, +gentlemen. + +BURLACOMBE. [Acidly] Never asked to see my missis. Passed me in +the yard like a stone. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes a little bit rumoursome lately about 'er doctor. + +GODLEIGH. Ah! he's the favourite. But 'tes a dead secret; Mr. +Trustaford. Don't yu never repate it--there's not a cat don't know +it already! + +BURLACOMBE frowns, and TRUSTAFORD utters his laugh. The door is +opened and FREMAN, a dark gipsyish man in the dress of a farmer, +comes in. + +GODLEIGH. Don't yu never tell Will Freman what 'e told me! + +FREMAN. Avenin'! + +TRUSTAFORD. Avenin', Will; what's yure glass o' trouble? + +FREMAN. Drop o' eider, clove, an' dash o' gin. There's blood in the +sky to-night. + +BURLACOMBE. Ah! We'll 'ave fine weather now, with the full o' the +mune. + +FREMAN. Dust o' wind an' a drop or tu, virst, I reckon. 'Earl t' +nuse about curate an' 'is wife? + +GODLEIGH. No, indeed; an' don't yu tell us. We'm Christians 'ere in +this village. + +FREMAN. 'Tain't no very Christian nuse, neither. He's sent 'er off +to th' doctor. "Go an' live with un," 'e says; "my blessin' on ye." +If 'er'd a-been mine, I'd 'a tuk the whip to 'er. Tam Jarland's +maid, she yeard it all. Christian, indeed! That's brave +Christianity! "Goo an' live with un!" 'e told 'er. + +BURLACOMBE. No, no; that's, not sense--a man to say that. I'll not +'ear that against a man that bides in my 'ouse. + +FREMAN. 'Tes sure, I tell 'ee. The maid was hid-up, scared-like, +behind the curtain. At it they went, and parson 'e says: "Go," 'e +says, "I won't kape 'ee from 'im," 'e says, "an' I won't divorce 'ee, +as yu don't wish it!" They was 'is words, same as Jarland's maid +told my maid, an' my maid told my missis. If that's parson's talk, +'tes funny work goin' to church. + +TRUSTAFORD. [Brooding] 'Tes wonderful quare, zurely. + +FREMAN. Tam Jarland's fair mad wi' curate for makin' free wi' his +maid's skylark. Parson or no parson, 'e've no call to meddle wi' +other people's praperty. He cam' pokin' 'is nose into my affairs. I +told un I knew a sight more 'bout 'orses than 'e ever would! + +TRUSTAFORD. He'm a bit crazy 'bout bastes an' birds. + + [They have been so absorbed that they bane not noticed the + entrance of CLYST, a youth with tousled hair, and a bright, + quick, Celtic eye, who stands listening, with a bit of paper in + his hand.] + +CLYST. Ah! he'm that zurely, Mr. Trustaford. + + [He chuckles.] + +GODLEIGH. Now, Tim Clyst, if an' in case yu've a-got some scandal on +yer tongue, don't yu never unship it here. Yu go up to Rectory where +'twill be more relished-like. + +CLYST. [Waving the paper] Will y' give me a drink for this, Mr. +Godleigh? 'Tes rale funny. Aw! 'tes somethin' swats. Butiful +readin'. Poetry. Rale spice. Yu've a luv'ly voice for readin', Mr. +Godleigh. + +GODLEIGH. [All ears and twinkle] Aw, what is it then? + +CLYST. Ah! Yu want t'know tu much. + + [Putting the paper in his pocket.] + + [While he is speaking, JIM BERE has entered quietly, with his + feeble step and smile, and sits down.] + +CLYST. [Kindly] Hello, Jim! Cat come 'ome? + +JIM BERE. No. + + [All nod, and speak to him kindly. And JIM BERE smiles at them, + and his eyes ask of them the question, to which there is no + answer. And after that he sits motionless and silent, and they + talk as if he were not there.] + +GODLEIGH. What's all this, now--no scandal in my 'ouse! + +CLYST. 'Tes awful peculiar--like a drame. Mr. Burlacombe 'e don't +like to hear tell about drames. A guess a won't tell 'ee, arter +that. + +FREMAN. Out wi' it, Tim. + +CLYST. 'Tes powerful thirsty to-day, Mr. Godleigh. + +GODLEIGH. [Drawing him some cider] Yu're all wild cat's talk, Tim; +yu've a-got no tale at all. + +CLYST. [Moving for the cider] Aw, indade! + +GODLEIGH. No tale, no cider! + +CLYST. Did ye ever year tell of Orphus? + +TRUSTAFORD. What? The old vet. up to Drayleigh? + +CLYST. Fegs, no; Orphus that lived in th' old time, an' drawed the +bastes after un wi' his music, same as curate was tellin' the maids. + +FREMAN. I've 'eard as a gipsy over to Vellacott could du that wi' +'is viddle. + +CLYST. 'Twas no gipsy I see'd this arternune; 'twee Orphus, down to +Mr. Burlacombe's long medder; settin' there all dark on a stone among +the dimsy-white flowers an' the cowflops, wi' a bird upon 'is 'ead, +playin' his whistle to the ponies. + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] Yu did never zee a man wi' a bird on 'is 'ead. + +CLYST. Didn' I? + +FREMAN. What sort o' bird, then? Yu tell me that. + +TRUSTAFORD. Praaper old barndoor cock. Haw, haw! + +GODLEIGH. [Soothingly] 'Tes a vairy-tale; us mustn't be tu +partic'lar. + +BURLACOMBE: In my long medder? Where were yu, then, Tim Clyst? + +CLYST. Passin' down the lane on my bike. Wonderful sorrowful-fine +music 'e played. The ponies they did come round 'e--yu cud zee the +tears rennin' down their chakes; 'twas powerful sad. 'E 'adn't no +'at on. + +FREMAN. [Jeering] No; 'e 'ad a bird on 'is 'ead. + +CLYST. [With a silencing grin] He went on playin' an' playin'. The +ponies they never muved. An' all the dimsy-white flowers they waved +and waved, an' the wind it went over 'em. Gav' me a funny feelin'. + +GODLEIGH. Clyst, yu take the cherry bun! + +CLYST. Where's that cider, Mr. Godleigh? + +GODLEIGH. [Bending over the cider] Yu've a -'ad tu much already, +Tim. + + [The door is opened, and TAM JARLAND appears. He walks rather + unsteadily; a man with a hearty jowl, and sullen, strange; + epileptic-looking eyes.] + +CLYST. [Pointing to JARLAND] 'Tis Tam Jarland there 'as the cargo +aboard. + +JARLAND. Avenin', all! [To GODLEIGH] Pinto' beer. [To JIM BERE] +Avenin', Jim. + + [JIM BERE looks at him and smiles.] + +GODLEIGH. [Serving him after a moment's hesitation] 'Ere y'are, +Tam. [To CLYST, who has taken out his paper again] Where'd yu get +thiccy paper? + +CLYST. [Putting down his cider-mug empty] Yure tongue du watter, +don't it, Mr. Godleigh? [Holding out his mug] No zider, no poetry. +'Tis amazin' sorrowful; Shakespeare over again. "The boy stude on +the burnin' deck." + +FREMAN. Yu and yer yap! + +CLYST. Ah! Yu wait a bit. When I come back down t'lane again, +Orphus 'e was vanished away; there was naught in the field but the +ponies, an' a praaper old magpie, a-top o' the hedge. I zee +somethin' white in the beak o' the fowl, so I giv' a "Whisht," an' +'e drops it smart, an' off 'e go. I gets over bank an' picks un up, +and here't be. + + [He holds out his mug.] + +BURLACOMBE. [Tartly] Here, give 'im 'is cider. Rade it yureself, +ye young teasewings. + + [CLYST, having secured his cider, drinks it o$. Holding up the + paper to the light, he makes as if to begin, then. slides his + eye round, tantalizing.] + +CLYST. 'Tes a pity I bain't dressed in a white gown, an' flowers in +me 'air. + +FREMAN. Read it, or we'll 'aye yu out o' this. + +CLYST. Aw, don't 'ee shake my nerve, now! + + [He begins reading with mock heroism, in his soft, high, burring + voice. Thus, in his rustic accent, go the lines] + + God lighted the zun in 'eaven far. + Lighted the virefly an' the star. + My 'eart 'E lighted not! + + God lighted the vields fur lambs to play, + Lighted the bright strames, 'an the may. + My 'eart 'E lighted not! + + God lighted the mune, the Arab's way, + He lights to-morrer, an' to-day. + My 'eart 'E 'ath vorgot! + + [When he has finished, there is silence. Then TRUSTAFORD, + scratching his head, speaks:] + +TAUSTAFORD. 'Tes amazin' funny stuff. + +FREMAN. [Looking over CLYST'S shoulder] Be danged! 'Tes the +curate's 'andwritin'. 'Twas curate wi' the ponies, after that. + +CLYST. Fancy, now! Aw, Will Freman, an't yu bright! + +FREMAN. But 'e 'adn't no bird on 'is 'ead. + +CLYST. Ya-as, 'e 'ad. + +JARLAND. [In a dull, threatening voice] 'E 'ad my maid's bird, this +arternune. 'Ead or no, and parson or no, I'll gie 'im one for that. + +FREMAN. Ah! And 'e meddled wi' my 'orses. + +TRUSTAFORD. I'm thinkin' 'twas an old cuckoo bird 'e 'ad on 'is +'ead. Haw, haw! + +GODLEIGH. "His 'eart She 'ath Vorgot!" + +FREMAN. 'E's a fine one to be tachin' our maids convirmation. + +GODLEIGH. Would ye 'ave it the old Rector then? Wi' 'is gouty shoe? +Rackon the maids wid rather 'twas curate; eh, Mr. Burlacombe? + +BURLACOMBE. [Abruptly] Curate's a gude man. + +JARLAND. [With the comatose ferocity of drink] I'll be even wi' un. + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] Tell 'ee one thing--'tes not a proper man o' +God to 'ave about, wi' 'is luse goin's on. Out vrom 'ere he oughter +go. + +BURLACOMBE. You med go further an' fare worse. + +FREMAN. What's 'e duin', then, lettin' 'is wife runoff? + +TRUSTAFORD. [Scratching his head] If an' in case 'e can't kape 'er, +'tes a funny way o' duin' things not to divorce 'er, after that. If +a parson's not to du the Christian thing, whu is, then? + +BURLACOMBE. 'Tes a bit immoral-like to pass over a thing like that. +Tes funny if women's gain's on's to be encouraged. + +FREMAN. Act of a coward, I zay. + +BURLACOMBE. The curate ain't no coward. + +FREMAN. He bides in yure house; 'tes natural for yu to stand up for +un; I'll wager Mrs. Burlacombe don't, though. My missis was fair +shocked. "Will," she says, "if yu ever make vur to let me go like +that, I widden never stay wi' yu," she says. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes settin' a bad example, for zure. + +BURLACOMBE. 'Tes all very airy talkin'; what shude 'e du, then? + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] Go over to Durford and say to that doctor: "Yu +come about my missis, an' zee what I'll du to 'ee." An' take 'er +'ome an' zee she don't misbe'ave again. + +CLYST. 'E can't take 'er ef 'er don' want t' come--I've 'eard +lawyer, that lodged wi' us, say that. + +FREMAN. All right then, 'e ought to 'ave the law of 'er and 'er +doctor; an' zee 'er goin's on don't prosper; 'e'd get damages, tu. +But this way 'tes a nice example he'm settin' folks. Parson indade! +My missis an' the maids they won't goo near the church to-night, an' +I wager no one else won't, neither. + +JARLAND. [Lurching with his pewter up to GODLEIGH] The beggar! I'll +be even wi' un. + +GODLEIGH. [Looking at him in doubt] 'Tes the last, then, Tam. + + [Having received his beer, JARLAND stands, leaning against the + bar, drinking.] + +BURLACOMBE. [Suddenly] I don' goo with what curate's duin--'tes +tiff soft 'earted; he'm a muney kind o' man altogether, wi' 'is flute +an' 'is poetry; but he've a-lodged in my 'ouse this year an' mare, +and always 'ad an 'elpin' 'and for every one. I've got a likin' for +him an' there's an end of it. + +JARLAND. The coward! + +TRUSTAFORD. I don' trouble nothin' about that, Tam Jarland. +[Turning to BURLACOMBE] What gits me is 'e don't seem to 'ave no +zense o' what's his own praperty. + +JARLAND. Take other folk's property fast enough! + + [He saws the air with his empty. The others have all turned to + him, drawn by the fascination that a man in liquor has for his + fellow-men. The bell for church has begun to rang, the sun is + down, and it is getting dusk.] + +He wants one on his crop, an' one in 'is belly; 'e wants a man to +take an' gie un a gude hidin zame as he oughter give 'is fly-be-night +of a wife. + + [STRANGWAY in his dark clothes has entered, and stands by the + door, his lips compressed to a colourless line, his thin, + darkish face grey-white] + +Zame as a man wid ha' gi'en the doctor, for takin' what isn't his'n. + + All but JARLAND have seen STRANGWAY. He steps forward, JARLAND + sees him now; his jaw drops a little, and he is silent. + +STRANGWAY. I came for a little brandy, Mr. Godleigh--feeling rather +faint. Afraid I mightn't get through the service. + +GODLEIGH. [With professional composure] Marteil's Three Star, zurr, +or 'Ennessy's? + +STRANGWAY. [Looking at JARLAND] Thank you; I believe I can do +without, now. [He turns to go.] + + [In the deadly silence, GODLEIGH touches the arm of JARLAND, + who, leaning against the bar with the pewter in his hand, is + staring with his strange lowering eyes straight at STRANGWAY.] + +JARLAND. [Galvanized by the touch into drunken rage] Lave me be- +I'll talk to un-parson or no. I'll tache un to meddle wi' my maid's +bird. I'll tache un to kape 'is thievin' 'ands to 'imself. + + [STRANGWAY turns again.] + +CLYST. Be quiet, Tam. + +JARLAND. [Never loosing STRANGWAY with his eyes--like a bull-dog who +sees red] That's for one chake; zee un turn t'other, the white- +livered buty! Whu lets another man 'ave 'is wife, an' never the +sperit to go vor un! + +BURLACOMBE. Shame, Jarland; quiet, man! + + [They are all looking at STRANGWAY, who, under JARLAND'S drunken + insults is standing rigid, with his eyes closed, and his hands + hard clenched. The church bell has stopped slow ringing, and + begun its five minutes' hurrying note.] + +TRUSTAFORD. [Rising, and trying to hook his arm into JARLAND'S] +Come away, Tam; yu've a-'ad to much, man. + +JARLAND. [Shaking him off] Zee, 'e darsen't touch me; I might 'it +un in the vase an' 'e darsen't; 'e's afraid--like 'e was o' the +doctor. + + [He raises the pewter as though to fling it, but it is seized by + GODLEIGH from behind, and falls clattering to the floor. + STRANGWAY has not moved.] + +JARLAND. [Shaking his fist almost in his face] Luke at un, Luke at +un! A man wi' a slut for a wife---- + + [As he utters the word "wife" STRANGWAY seizes the outstretched + fist, and with a jujitsu movement, draws him into his clutch, + helpless. And as they sway and struggle in the open window, + with the false strength of fury he forces JARLAND through. + There is a crash of broken glass from outside. At the sound + STRANGWAY comes to himself. A look of agony passes over his + face. His eyes light on JIM BERE, who has suddenly risen, and + stands feebly clapping his hands. STRANGWAY rushes out.] + + [Excitedly gathering at the window, they all speak at once.] + +CLYST. Tam's hatchin' of yure cucumbers, Mr. Godleigh. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'E did crash; haw, haw! + +FREMAN. 'Twas a brave throw, zurely. Whu wid a' thought it? + +CLYST. Tam's crawlin' out. [Leaning through window] Hello, Tam-- +'ow's t' base, old man? + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] They'm all comin' up from churchyard to zee. + +TRUSTAFORD. Tam du luke wonderful aztonished; haw, haw! Poor old +Tam! + +CLYST. Can yu zee curate? Reckon 'e'm gone into church. Aw, yes; +gettin' a bit dimsy-service time. [A moment's hush.] + +TRUSTAFORD. Well, I'm jiggered. In 'alf an hour he'm got to prache. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes a Christian village, boys. + + [Feebly, quietly, JIM BERE laughs. There is silence; but the + bell is heard still ranging.] + + + CURTAIN. + + + +SCENE II + + The same-in daylight dying fast. A lamp is burning on the bar. + A chair has been placed in the centre of the room, facing the + bench under the window, on which are seated from right to left, + GODLEIGH, SOL POTTER the village shopman, TRUSTAFORD, + BURLACOMBE, FREMAN, JIM BERE, and MORSE the blacksmith. CLYST + is squatting on a stool by the bar, and at the other end + JARLAND, sobered and lowering, leans against the lintel of the + porch leading to the door, round which are gathered five or six + sturdy fellows, dumb as fishes. No one sits in the chair. In + the unnatural silence that reigns, the distant sound of the + wheezy church organ and voices singing can be heard. + +TAUSTAFORD. [After a prolonged clearing of his throat] What I mean +to zay is that 'tes no yuse, not a bit o' yuse in the world, not +duin' of things properly. If an' in case we'm to carry a resolution +disapprovin' o' curate, it must all be done so as no one can't, zay +nothin'. + +SOL POTTER. That's what I zay, Mr. Trustaford; ef so be as 'tis to +be a village meetin', then it must be all done proper. + +FREMAN. That's right, Sot Potter. I purpose Mr. Sot Potter into the +chair. Whu seconds that? + + [A silence. Voices from among the dumb-as-fishes: "I du."] + +CLYST. [Excitedly] Yu can't putt that to the meetin'. Only a +chairman can putt it to the meetin'. I purpose that Mr. Burlacombe-- +bein as how he's chairman o' the Parish Council--take the chair. + +FREMAN. Ef so be as I can't putt it, yu can't putt that neither. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes not a bit o' yuse; us can't 'ave no meetin' without +a chairman. + +GODLEIGH. Us can't 'ave no chairman without a meetin' to elect un, +that's zure. [A silence.] + +MORSE. [Heavily] To my way o' thinkin', Mr. Godleigh speaks zense; +us must 'ave a meetin' before us can 'ave a chairman. + +CLYST. Then what we got to du's to elect a meetin'. + +BURLACOMBE. [Sourly] Yu'll not find no procedure far that. + + [Voices from among the dumb-as fishes: "Mr. Burlacombe 'e + oughter know."] + +SOL POTTER. [Scratching his head--with heavy solemnity] 'Tes my +belief there's no other way to du, but to elect a chairman to call a +meetin'; an' then for that meetin' to elect a chairman. + +CLYST. I purpose Mr. Burlacombe as chairman to call a meetin'. + +FREMAN. I purpose Sol Potter. + +GODLEIGH. Can't 'ave tu propositions together before a meetin'; +that's apple-pie zure vur zurtain. + + [Voice from among the dumb-as fishes: "There ain't no meetin' + yet, Sol Potter zays."] + +TRUSTAFORD. Us must get the rights of it zettled some'ow. 'Tes like +the darned old chicken an' the egg--meetin' or chairman--which come +virst? + +SOL POTTER. [Conciliating] To my thinkin' there shid be another way +o' duin' it, to get round it like with a circumbendibus. 'T'all +comes from takin' different vuse, in a manner o' spakin'. + +FREMAN. Vu goo an' zet in that chair. + +SOL POTTER. [With a glance at BURLACOMBE modestly] I shid'n never +like fur to du that, with Mr. Burlacombe zettin' there. + +BURLACOMBE. [Rising] 'Tes all darned fulishness. + + [Amidst an uneasy shufflement of feet he moves to the door, and + goes out into the darkness.] + +CLYST. [Seeing his candidate thus depart] Rackon curate's pretty +well thru by now, I'm goin' to zee. [As he passes JARLAND] 'Ow's to +base, old man? + + [He goes out. One of the dumb-as-fishes moves from the door and + fills the apace left on the bench by BURLACOMBE'S departure.] + +JARLAND. Darn all this puzzivantin'! [To SOL POTTER] Got an' zet +in that chair. + +SOL POTTER. [Rising and going to the chair; there he stands, +changing from one to the other of his short broad feet and sweating +from modesty and worth] 'Tes my duty now, gentlemen, to call a +meetin' of the parishioners of this parish. I beg therefore to +declare that this is a meetin' in accordance with my duty as chairman +of this meetin' which elected me chairman to call this meetin'. And +I purceed to vacate the chair so that this meetin' may now purceed to +elect a chairman. + + [He gets up from the chair, and wiping the sweat from his brow, + goes back to his seat.] + +FREMAN. Mr. Chairman, I rise on a point of order. + +GODLEIGH. There ain't no chairman. + +FREMAN. I don't give a darn for that. I rise on a point of order. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes a chairman that decides points of order. 'Tes +certain yu can't rise on no points whatever till there's a chairman. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes no yuse yure risin', not the least bit in the +world, till there's some one to set yu down again. Haw, haw! + + [Voice from the dumb-as-Etches: "Mr. Trustaford 'e's right."] + +FREMAN. What I zay is the chairman ought never to 'ave vacated the +chair till I'd risen on my point of order. I purpose that he goo and +zet down again. + +GODLEIGH. Yu can't purpose that to this meetin'; yu can only purpose +that to the old meetin' that's not zettin' any longer. + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] I didn' care what old meetin' 'tis that's +zettin'. I purpose that Sol Potter goo an' zet in that chair again, +while I rise on my point of order. + +TRUSTAFORD. [Scratching his head] 'Tesn't regular but I guess yu've +got to goo, Sol, or us shan't 'ave no peace. + + [SOL POTTER, still wiping his brow, goes back to the chair.] + +MORSE. [Stolidly-to FREMAN] Zet down, Will Freman. [He pulls at +him with a blacksmith's arm.] + +FREMAN. [Remaining erect with an effort] I'm not a-goin' to zet +down till I've arisen. + +JARLAND. Now then, there 'e is in the chair. What's yore point of +order? + +FREMAN. [Darting his eyes here and there, and flinging his hand up +to his gipsy-like head] 'Twas--'twas--Darned ef y' 'aven't putt it +clean out o' my 'ead. + +JARLAND. We can't wait for yore points of order. Come out o' that +chair. Sol Potter. + + [SOL POTTER rises and is about to vacate the chair.] + +FREMAN. I know! There ought to 'a been minutes taken. Yu can't +'ave no meetin' without minutes. When us comes to electin' a +chairman o' the next meetin', 'e won't 'ave no minutes to read. + +SOL POTTER. 'Twas only to putt down that I was elected chairman to +elect a meetin' to elect a chairman to preside over a meetin' to pass +a resolution dalin' wi' the curate. That's aisy set down, that is. + +FREMAN. [Mollified] We'll 'ave that zet down, then, while we're +electin' the chairman o' the next meetin'. + + [A silence. ] + +TRUSTAFORD. Well then, seein' this is the praaper old meetin' for +carryin' the resolution about the curate, I purpose Mr. Sol Potter +take the chair. + +FREMAN. I purpose Mr. Trustaford. I 'aven't a-got nothin' against +Sol Potter, but seein' that he elected the meetin' that's to elect +'im, it might be said that 'e was electin' of himzelf in a manner of +spakin'. Us don't want that said. + +MORSE. [Amid meditative grunts from the dumb-as-fishes] There's +some-at in that. One o' they tu purposals must be putt to the +meetin'. + +FREMAN. Second must be putt virst, fur zure. + +TRUSTAFORD. I dunno as I wants to zet in that chair. To hiss the +curate, 'tis a ticklish sort of a job after that. Vurst comes afore +second, Will Freeman. + +FREMAN. Second is amendment to virst. 'Tes the amendments is putt +virst. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Ow's that, Mr. Godleigh? I'm not particular eggzac'ly +to a dilly zort of a point like that. + +SOL POTTER. [Scratching his, head] 'Tes a very nice point, for +zure. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes undoubtedly for the chairman to decide. + + [Voice from the dumb-as fishes: "But there ain't no chairman + yet."] + +JARLAND. Sol Potter's chairman. + +FREMAN. No, 'e ain't. + +MORSE. Yes, 'e is--'e's chairman till this second old meetin' gets +on the go. + +FREMAN. I deny that. What du yu say, Mr. Trustaford? + +TRUSTAFORD. I can't 'ardly tell. It du zeem a darned long-sufferin' +sort of a business altogether. + + [A silence.] + +MORSE. [Slowly] Tell 'ee what 'tis, us shan't du no gude like this. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes for Mr. Freman or Mr. Trustaford, one or t'other to +withdraw their motions. + +TRUSTAFORD. [After a pause, with cautious generosity] I've no +objections to withdrawin' mine, if Will Freman'll withdraw his'n. + +FREMAN. I won't never be be'indhand. If Mr. Trustaford withdraws, I +withdraws mine. + +MORSE. [With relief] That's zensible. Putt the motion to the +meetin'. + +SOL POTTER. There ain't no motion left to putt. + + [Silence of consternation.] + + [In the confusion Jim BERE is seen to stand up.] + +GODLEIGH. Jim Bere to spike. Silence for Jim! + +VOICES. Aye! Silence for Jim! + +SOL POTTER. Well, Jim? + +JIM. [Smiling and slow] Nothin' duin'. + +TRUSTAFORD. Bravo, Jim! Yu'm right. Best zense yet! + + [Applause from the dumb-as-fishes.] + + [With his smile brightening, JIM resumes his seat.] + +SOL POTTER. [Wiping his brow] Du seem to me, gentlemen, seem' as +we'm got into a bit of a tangle in a manner of spakin', 'twid be the +most zimplest and vairest way to begin all over vrom the beginnin', +so's t'ave it all vair an' square for every one. + + [In the uproar Of "Aye" and "No," it is noticed that TIBBY + JARLAND is standing in front of her father with her finger, for + want of something better, in her mouth.] + +TIBBY. [In her stolid voice] Please, sister Mercy says, curate 'ave +got to "Lastly." [JARLAND picks her up, and there is silence.] An' +please to come quick. + +JARLAND. Come on, mates; quietly now! + + [He goes out, and all begin to follow him.] + +MORSE. [Slowest, save for SOL POTTER] 'Tes rare lucky us was all +agreed to hiss the curate afore us began the botherin' old meetin', +or us widn' 'ardly 'ave 'ad time to settle what to du. + +SOL POTTER. [Scratching his head] Aye, 'tes rare lucky; but I dunno +if 'tes altogether reg'lar. + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +SCENE III + + The village green before the churchyard and the yew-trees at the + gate. Into the pitch dark under the yews, light comes out + through the half-open church door. Figures are lurking, or + moving stealthily--people waiting and listening to the sound of + a voice speaking in the church words that are inaudible. + Excited whispering and faint giggles come from the deepest yew- + tree shade, made ghostly by the white faces and the frocks of + young girls continually flitting up and back in the blackness. + A girl's figure comes flying out from the porch, down the path + of light, and joins the stealthy group. + +WHISPERING VOICE of MERCY. Where's 'e got to now, Gladys? + +WHISPERING VOICE OF GLADYS. 'E've just finished. + +VOICE OF CONNIE. Whu pushed t'door open? + +VOICE OF GLADYS. Tim Clyst I giv' it a little push, meself. + +VOICE OF CONNIE. Oh! + +VOICE of GLADYS. Tim Clyst's gone in! + +ANOTHER VOICE. O-o-o-h! + +VOICE of MERCY. Whu else is there, tu? + +VOICE OF GLADYS. Ivy's there, an' Old Mrs. Potter, an' tu o' the +maids from th'Hall; that's all as ever. + +VOICE of CONNIE. Not the old grey mare? + +VOICE of GLADYS. No. She ain't ther'. 'Twill just be th'ymn now, +an' the Blessin'. Tibby gone for 'em? + +VOICE OF MERCY. Yes. + +VOICE of CONNIE. Mr. Burlacombe's gone in home, I saw 'im pass by +just now--'e don' like it. Father don't like it neither. + +VOICE of MERCY. Mr. Strangway shoudn' 'ave taken my skylark, an' +thrown father out o' winder. 'Tis goin' to be awful fun! Oh! + + [She jumps up and dawn in the darkness. And a voice from far in + the shadow says: "Hsssh! Quiet, yu maids!" The voice has + ceased speaking in the church. There is a moment's dead + silence. The voice speaks again; then from the wheezy little + organ come the first faint chords of a hymn.] + +GLADYS. "Nearer, my God, to Thee!" + +VOICE of MERCY. 'Twill be funny, with no one 'ardly singin'. + + [The sound of the old hymn sung by just six voices comes out to + them rather sweet and clear.] + +GLADYS. [Softly] 'Tis pretty, tu. Why! They're only singin' one +verse! + + [A moment's silence, and the voice speaks, uplifted, pronouncing + the Blessing: "The peace of God----" As the last words die away, + dark figures from the inn approach over the grass, till quite a + crowd seems standing there without a word spoken. Then from out + of the church porch come the congregation. TIM CLYST first, + hastily lost among the waiting figures in the dark; old Mrs. + Potter, a half blind old lady groping her way and perceiving + nothing out of the ordinary; the two maids from the Hall, self- + conscious and scared, scuttling along. Last, IVY BURLACOMBE + quickly, and starting back at the dim, half-hidden crowd.] + +VOICE of GLADYS. [Whispering] Ivy! Here, quick! + + [Ivy sways, darts off towards the voice, and is lost in the + shadow.] + +VOICE OF FREMAN. [Low] Wait, boys, till I give signal. + + [Two or three squirks and giggles; Tim CLYST'S voice: "Ya-as! + Don't 'ee tread on my toe!" A soft, frightened "O-o-h!" from a + girl. Some quick, excited whisperings: "Luke!" "Zee there!" + "He's comin'!" And then a perfectly dead silence. The figure + of STRANGWAY is seen in his dark clothes, passing from the + vestry to the church porch. He stands plainly visible in the + lighted porch, locking the door, then steps forward. Just as he + reaches the edge of the porch, a low hiss breaks the silence. + It swells very gradually into a long, hissing groan. STRANGWAY + stands motionless, his hand over his eyes, staring into the + darkness. A girl's figure can be seen to break out of the + darkness and rush away. When at last the groaning has died into + sheer expectancy, STRANGWAY drops his hand.] + +STRANGWAY. [In a loco voice] Yes! I'm glad. Is Jarland there? + +FREMAN. He's 'ere-no thanks to yu! Hsss! + + [The hiss breaks out again, then dies away.] + +JARLAND'S VOICE. [Threatening] Try if yu can du it again. + +STRANGWAY. No, Jarland, no! I ask you to forgive me. Humbly! + + [A hesitating silence, broken by muttering.] + +CLYST'S VOICE. Bravo! + +A VOICE. That's vair. + +A VOICE. 'E's afraid o' the sack--that's what 'tis. + +A VOICE. [Groaning] 'E's a praaper coward. + +A VOICE. Whu funked the doctor? + +CLYST'S VOICE. Shame on 'ee, therr! + +STRANGWAY. You're right--all of you! I'm not fit! An uneasy and +excited mustering and whispering dies away into renewed silence. + +STRANGWAY. What I did to Tam Jarland is not the real cause of what +you're doing, is it? I understand. But don't be troubled. It's all +over. I'm going--you'll get some one better. Forgive me, Jarland. +I can't see your face--it's very dark. + +FREMAN'S Voice. [Mocking] Wait for the full mune. + +GODLEIGH. [Very low] "My 'eart 'E lighted not!" + +STRANGWAY. [starting at the sound of his own words thus mysteriously +given him out of the darkness] Whoever found that, please tear it +up! [After a moment's silence] Many of you have been very kind to +me. You won't see me again--Good-bye, all! + + [He stands for a second motionless, then moves resolutely down + into the darkness so peopled with shadows.] + +UNCERTAIN VOICES AS HE PASSES. Good-bye, zurr! +Good luck, zurr! [He has gone.] + +CLYST'S VOICE. Three cheers for Mr. Strangway! + + [And a queer, strangled cheer, with groans still threading it, + arises.] + + + CURTAIN. + + + + + +ACT III + + +SCENE I + + In the BURLACOMBES' hall-sitting-room the curtains are drawn, a + lamp burns, and the door stands open. BURLACOMBE and his wife + are hovering there, listening to the sound of mingled cheers and + groaning. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! my gudeness--what a thing t'appen! I'd saner +'a lost all me ducks. [She makes towards the inner door] I can't +never face 'im. + +BURLACOMBE. 'E can't expect nothin' else, if 'e act like that. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes only duin' as 'e'd be done by. + +BURLACOMBE. Aw! Yu can't go on forgivin' 'ere, an' forgivin' there. +'Tesn't nat'ral. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes the mischief 'e'm a parson. 'Tes 'im bein' a +lamb o' God--or 'twidden be so quare for 'im to be forgivin'. + +BURLACOMBE. Yu goo an' make un a gude 'ot drink. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Poor soul! What'll 'e du now, I wonder? [Under +her breath] 'E's cumin'! + + [She goes hurriedly. BURLACOMBE, with a startled look back, + wavers and makes to follow her, but stops undecided in the inner + doorway. STRANGWAY comes in from the darkness. He turns to the + window and drops overcoat and hat and the church key on the + windowseat, looking about him as men do when too hard driven, + and never fixing his eyes long enough on anything to see it. + BURLACOMBE, closing the door into the house, advances a step. + At the sound STRANGWAY faces round.] + +BURLACOMBE. I wanted for yu to know, zurr, that me an' mine 'adn't +nothin' to du wi' that darned fulishness, just now. + +STRANGWAY. [With a ghost of a smile] Thank you, Burlacombe. It +doesn't matter. It doesn't matter a bit. + +BURLACOMBE. I 'ope yu won't take no notice of it. Like a lot o' +silly bees they get. [After an uneasy pause] Yu'll excuse me +spakin' of this mornin', an' what 'appened. 'Tes a brave pity it +cam' on yu so sudden-like before yu 'ad time to think. 'Tes a sort +o' thing a man shude zet an' chew upon. Certainly 'tes not a bit o' +yuse goin' against human nature. Ef yu don't stand up for yureself +there's no one else not goin' to. 'Tes yure not 'avin' done that 'as +made 'em so rampageous. [Stealing another look at STRANGWAY] Yu'll +excuse me, zurr, spakin' of it, but 'tes amazin' sad to zee a man let +go his own, without a word o' darin'. 'Tea as ef 'e 'ad no passions- +like. + +STRANGWAY. Look at me, Burlacombe. + + [BURLACOMBE looks up, trying hard to keep his eyes on + STRANGWAY'S, that seem to burn in his thin face.] + +STRANGWAY. Do I look like that? Please, please! [He touches his +breast] I've too much here. Please! + +BURLACOMBE. [With a sort of startled respect] Well, zurr, 'tes not +for me to zay nothin', certainly. + + [He turns and after a slow look back at STRANGWAY goes out.] + +STRANGWAY. [To himself] Passions! No passions! Ha! + + [The outer door is opened and IVY BURLACOMBE appears, and, + seeing him, stops. Then, coming softly towards him, she speaks + timidly.] + +IVY. Oh! Mr. Strangway, Mrs. Bradmere's cumin' from the Rectory. I +ran an' told 'em. Oh! 'twas awful. + + [STRANGWAY starts, stares at her, and turning on his heel, goes + into the house. Ivy's face is all puckered, as if she were on + the point of tears. There is a gentle scratching at the door, + which has not been quite closed.] + +VOICE OF GLADYS. [Whispering] Ivy! Come on Ivy. I won't. + +VOICE OF MERCY. Yu must. Us can't du without Yu. + +Ivy. [Going to the door] I don't want to. + +VOICE of GLADYS. "Naughty maid, she won't come out," Ah! du 'ee! + +VOICE OF CREMER. Tim Clyst an' Bobbie's cumin'; us'll only be six +anyway. Us can't dance "figure of eight" without yu. + +Ivy. [Stamping her foot] I don't want to dance at all! I don't. + +MERCY. Aw! She's temper. Yu can bang on tambourine, then! + +GLADYS. [Running in] Quick, Ivy! Here's the old grey mare cumin' +down the green. Quick. + + [With whispering and scuffling; gurgling and squeaking, the + reluctant Ivy's hand is caught and she is jerked away. In their + haste they have left the door open behind them.] + +VOICE of MRS. BRADMERE. [Outside] Who's that? + + [She knocks loudly, and rings a bell; then, without waiting, + comes in through the open door.] + + [Noting the overcoat and hat on the window-sill she moves across + to ring the bell. But as she does so, MRS. BURLACOMBE, followed + by BURLACOMBE, comes in from the house.] + +MRS. BRADMERE This disgraceful business! Where's Mr. Strangway? I +see he's in. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Yes, m'm, he'm in--but--but Burlacombe du zay he'm +terrible upset. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I should think so. I must see him--at once. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. I doubt bed's the best place for 'un, an' gude 'ot +drink. Burlacombe zays he'm like a man standin' on the edge of a +cliff; and the lasts tipsy o' wind might throw un over. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [To BURLACOMBE] You've seen him, then? + +BURLACOMBE. Yeas; an' I don't like the luke of un--not a little bit, +I don't. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Almost to herself] Poor soul; 'e've a-'ad to +much to try un this yer long time past. I've a-seen 'tis sperrit +cumin' thru 'is body, as yu might zay. He's torn to bits, that's +what 'tis. + +BURLACOMBE. 'Twas a praaper cowardly thing to hiss a man when he's +down. But 'twas natural tu, in a manner of spakin'. But 'tesn't +that troublin' 'im. 'Tes in here [touching his forehead], along of +his wife, to my thinkin'. They zay 'e've a-known about 'er a-fore +she went away. Think of what 'e've 'ad to kape in all this time. +'Tes enough to drive a man silly after that. I've a-locked my gun +up. I see a man like--like that once before--an' sure enough 'e was +dead in the mornain'! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Nonsense, Burlacombe! [To MRS. BURLACOMBE] Go and +tell him I want to see him--must see him. [MRS. BURLACOMBE goes +into the house] And look here, Burlacombe; if we catch any one, man +or woman, talking of this outside the village, it'll be the end of +their tenancy, whoever they may be. Let them all know that. I'm +glad he threw that drunken fellow out of the window, though it was a +little---- + +BURLACOMBE. Aye! The nuspapers would be praaper glad of that, for a +tiddy bit o' nuse. + +MRS. BRADMERE. My goodness! Yes! The men are all up at the inn. +Go and tell them what I said--it's not to get about. Go at once, +Burlacombe. + +BURLACOMBE. Must be a turrable job for 'im, every one's knowin' +about 'is wife like this. He'm a proud man tu, I think. 'Tes a +funny business altogether! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Horrible! Poor fellow! Now, come! Do your best, +Burlacombe! + + [BURLACOMBE touches his forelock and goes. MRS. BRADMERE stands + quite still, thinking. Then going to the photograph, she stares + up at it.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. You baggage! + + [STRANGWAY has come in noiselessly, and is standing just behind + her. She turns, and sees him. There is something so still, so + startlingly still in his figure and white face, that she cannot + for the moment fond her voice.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [At last] This is most distressing. I'm deeply +sorry. [Then, as he does not answer, she goes a step closer] I'm an +old woman; and old women must take liberties, you know, or they +couldn't get on at all. Come now! Let's try and talk it over calmly +and see if we can't put things right. + +STRANGWAY. You were very good to come; but I would rather not. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I know you're in as grievous trouble as a man can be. + +STRANGWAY. Yes. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [With a little sound of sympathy] What are you-- +thirty-five? I'm sixty-eight if I'm a day--old enough to be your +mother. I can feel what you must have been through all these months, +I can indeed. But you know you've gone the wrong way to work. We +aren't angels down here below! And a son of the Church can't act as +if for himself alone. The eyes of every one are on him. + +STRANGWAY. [Taking the church key from the window.] Take this, +please. + +MRS. BRADMERE. No, no, no! Jarland deserved all he got. You had +great provocation. + +STRANGWAY. It's not Jarland. [Holding out the key] Please take it +to the Rector. I beg his forgiveness. [Touching his breast] +There's too much I can't speak of--can't make plain. Take it to him, +please. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Mr. Strangway--I don't accept this. I am sure my +husband--the Church--will never accept---- + +STRANGWAY. Take it! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Almost unconsciously taking it] Mind! We don't +accept it. You must come and talk to the Rector to-morrow. You're +overwrought. You'll see it all in another light, then. + +STRANGWAY. [With a strange smile] Perhaps. [Lifting the blind] +Beautiful night! Couldn't be more beautiful! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Startled-softly] Don't turn sway from these who +want to help you! I'm a grumpy old woman, but I can feel for you. +Don't try and keep it all back, like this! A woman would cry, and it +would all seem clearer at once. Now won't you let me----? + +STRANGWAY. No one can help, thank you. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Come! Things haven't gone beyond mending, really, if +you'll face them. [Pointing to the photograph] You know what I +mean. We dare not foster immorality. + +STRANGWAY. [Quivering as at a jabbed nerve] Don't speak of that! + +MRS. BRADMERE. But think what you've done, Mr. Strangway! If you +can't take your wife back, surely you must divorce her. You can +never help her to go on like this in secret sin. + +STRANGWAY. Torture her--one way or the other? + +MRS. BRADMERE. No, no; I want you to do as the Church--as all +Christian society would wish. Come! You can't let this go on. My +dear man, do your duty at all costs! + +STRANGWAY. Break her heart? + +MRS. BRADMERE. Then you love that woman--more than God! + +STRANGWAY. [His face quivering] Love! + +MRS. BRADMERE. They told me----Yes, and I can see you're is a bad +way. Come, pull yourself together! You can't defend what you're +doing. + +STRANGWAY. I do not try. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I must get you to see! My father was a clergyman; +I'm married to one; I've two sons in the Church. I know what I'm +talking about. It's a priest's business to guide the people's lives. + +STRANGWAY. [Very low] But not mine! No more! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Looking at him shrewdly] There's something very +queer about you to-night. You ought to see doctor. + +STRANGWAY. [A smile awning and going on his lips] If I am not better +soon---- + +MRS. BRADMERE. I know it must be terrible to feel that everybody---- + + [A convulsive shiver passes over STRANGWAY, and he shrinks + against the door] + +But come! Live it down! + + [With anger growing at his silence] + +Live it down, man! You can't desert your post--and let these +villagers do what they like with us? Do you realize that you're +letting a woman, who has treated you abominably;--yes, abominably +--go scot-free, to live comfortably with another man? What an +example! + +STRANGWAY. Will you, please, not speak of that! + +MRS. BRADMERE. I must! This great Church of ours is based on the +rightful condemnation of wrongdoing. There are times when +forgiveness is a sin, Michael Strangway. You must keep the whip +hand. You must fight! + +STRANGWAY. Fight! [Touching his heart] My fight is here. Have you +ever been in hell? For months and months--burned and longed; hoped +against hope; killed a man in thought day by day? Never rested, for +love and hate? I--condemn! I--judge! No! It's rest I have to +find--somewhere--somehow-rest! And how--how can I find rest? + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Who has listened to his outburst in a soft of coma] +You are a strange man! One of these days you'll go off your head if +you don't take care. + +STRANGWAY. [Smiling] One of these days the flowers will grow out of +me; and I shall sleep. + + [MRS. BRADMERE stares at his smiling face a long moment in + silence, then with a little sound, half sniff, half snort, she + goes to the door. There she halts.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. And you mean to let all this go on----Your wife---- + +STRANGWAY. Go! Please go! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Men like you have been buried at cross-roads before +now! Take care! God punishes! + +STRANGWAY. Is there a God? + +MRS. BRADMERE. Ah! [With finality] You must see a doctor. + + [Seeing that the look on his face does not change, she opens the + door, and hurries away into the moonlight.] + + [STRANGWAY crosses the room to where his wife's picture hangs, + and stands before it, his hands grasping the frame. Then he + takes it from the wall, and lays it face upwards on the window + seat.] + +STRANGWAY. [To himself] Gone! What is there, now? + + [The sound of an owl's hooting is floating in, and of voices + from the green outside the inn.] + +STRANGWAY. [To himself] Gone! Taken faith--hope--life! + + [JIM BERE comes wandering into the open doorway.] + +JIM BERE. Gude avenin', zurr. + + [At his slow gait, with his feeble smile, he comes in, and + standing by the window-seat beside the long dark coat that still + lies there, he looks down at STRANGWAY with his lost eyes.] + +JIM. Yu threw un out of winder. I cud 'ave, once, I cud. + + [STRANGWAY neither moves nor speaks; and JIM BERE goes on with + his unimaginably slow speech] + +They'm laughin' at yu, zurr. An' so I come to tell 'ee how to du. +'Twas full mune--when I caught 'em, him an' my girl. I caught 'em. +[With a strange and awful flash of fire] I did; an' I tuk un [He +taken up STRANGWAY'S coat and grips it with his trembling hands, as a +man grips another's neck] like that--I tuk un. As the coat falls, +like a body out of which the breath has been squeezed, STRANGWAY, +rising, catches it. + +STRANGWAY. [Gripping the coat] And he fell! + + [He lets the coat fall on the floor, and puts his foot on it. + Then, staggering back, he leans against the window.] + +JIM. Yu see, I loved 'er--I did. [The lost look comes back to his +eyes] Then somethin'--I dunno--and--and----[He lifts his hand and +passes it up and down his side] Twas like this for ever. + + [They gaze at each other in silence.] + +JIM. [At last] I come to tell yu. They'm all laughin' at yu. But +yu'm strong--yu go over to Durford to that doctor man, an' take un +like I did. [He tries again to make the sign of squeezing a man's +neck] They can't laugh at yu no more, then. Tha's what I come to +tell yu. Tha's the way for a Christian man to du. Gude naight, +zurr. I come to tell yee. + + [STRANGWAY motions to him in silence. And, very slowly, JIM + BERE passes out.] + + [The voices of men coming down the green are heard.] + +VOICES. Gude night, Tam. Glide naight, old Jim! + +VOICES. Gude might, Mr. Trustaford. 'Tes a wonderful fine mune. + +VOICE OF TRUSTAFORD. Ah! 'Tes a brave mune for th' poor old curate! + +VOICE. "My 'eart 'E lighted not!" + + [TRUSTAFORD'S laugh, and the rattling, fainter and fainter, of + wheels. A spasm seizes on STRANGWAY'S face, as he stands there + by the open door, his hand grips his throat; he looks from side + to side, as if seeking a way of escape.] + + + CURTAIN. + + + +SCENE II + + The BURLACOMBES' high and nearly empty barn. A lantern is hung + by a rope that lifts the bales of straw, to a long ladder + leaning against a rafter. This gives all the light there is, + save for a slender track of moonlight, slanting in from the end, + where the two great doors are not quite closed. On a rude bench + in front of a few remaining, stacked, square-cut bundles of last + year's hay, sits TIBBY JARLAND, a bit of apple in her mouth, + sleepily beating on a tambourine. With stockinged feet GLADYS, + IVY, CONNIE, and MERCY, TIM CLYST, and BOBBIE JARLAND, a boy of + fifteen, are dancing a truncated "Figure of Eight"; and their + shadow are dancing alongside on the walls. Shoes and some + apples have been thrown down close to the side door through + which they have come in. Now and then IVY, the smallest and + best of the dancers, ejaculates words of direction, and one of + the youths grunts or breathes loudly out of the confusion of his + mind. Save for this and the dumb beat and jingle of the sleepy + tambourine, there is no sound. The dance comes to its end, but + the drowsy TIBBY goes on beating. + +MERCY. That'll du, Tibby; we're finished. Ate yore apple. [The +stolid TIBBY eats her apple.] + +CLYST. [In his teasing, excitable voice] Yu maids don't dance +'elf's well as us du. Bobbie 'e's a great dancer. 'E dance vine. +I'm a gude dancer, meself. + +GLADYS. A'n't yu conceited just? + +CLYST. Aw! Ah! Yu'll give me kiss for that. [He chases, but cannot +catch that slippery white figure] Can't she glimmer! + +MERCY. Gladys! Up ladder! + +CLYST. Yu go up ladder; I'll catch 'ee then. Naw, yu maids, don't +yu give her succour. That's not vair [Catching hold of MERCY, who +gives a little squeal.] + +CONNIE. Mercy, don't! Mrs. Burlacombe'll hear. Ivy, go an' peek. + + [Ivy goes to flee side door and peers through.] + +CLYST. [Abandoning the chase and picking up an apple--they all have +the joyous irresponsibility that attends forbidden doings] Ya-as, +this is a gude apple. Luke at Tibby! + + [TIBBY, overcome by drowsiness, has fallen back into the hay, + asleep. GLADYS, leaning against the hay breaks into humming:] + + "There cam' three dukes a-ridin', a-ridin', a-ridin', + There cam' three dukes a ridin' + With a ransy-tansy tay!" + +CLYST. Us 'as got on vine; us'll get prize for our dancin'. + +CONNIE. There won't be no prize if Mr. Strangway goes away. 'Tes +funny 'twas Mrs. Strangway start us. + +IVY. [From the door] 'Twas wicked to hiss him. + + [A moment's hush.] + +CLYST. Twasn't I. + +BOBBIE. I never did. + +GLADYS. Oh! Bobbie, yu did! Yu blew in my ear. + +CLYST. 'Twas the praaper old wind in the trees. Did make a brave +noise, zurely. + +MERCY. 'E shuld'n' 'a let my skylark go. + +CLYST. [Out of sheer contradictoriness] Ya-as, 'e shude, then. +What du yu want with th' birds of the air? They'm no gude to yu. + +IVY. [Mournfully] And now he's goin' away. + +CLYST. Ya-as; 'tes a pity. He's the best man I ever seen since I +was comin' from my mother. He's a gude man. He'em got a zad face, +sure enough, though. + +IVY. Gude folk always 'ave zad faces. + +CLYST. I knu a gude man--'e sold pigs--very gude man: 'e 'ad a +budiful bright vase like the mane. [Touching his stomach] I was sad, +meself, once. 'Twas a funny scrabblin'--like feelin'. + +GLADYS. If 'e go away, whu's goin' to finish us for confirmation? + +CONNIE. The Rector and the old grey mare. + +MERCY. I don' want no more finishin'; I'm confirmed enough. + +CLYST. Ya-as; yu'm a buty. + +GLADYS. Suppose we all went an' asked 'im not to go? + +IVY. 'Twouldn't be no gude. + +CONNIE. Where's 'e goin'? + +MERCY. He'll go to London, of course. + +IVY. He's so gentle; I think 'e'll go to an island, where there's +nothin' but birds and beasts and flowers. + +CLYST. Aye! He'm awful fond o' the dumb things. + +IVY. They're kind and peaceful; that's why. + +CLYST. Aw! Yu see tu praaper old tom cats; they'm not to peaceful, +after that, nor kind naighther. + +BOBBIE. [Surprisingly] If 'e's sad, per'aps 'e'll go to 'Eaven. + +IVY. Oh! not yet, Bobbie. He's tu young. + +CLYST. [Following his own thoughts] Ya-as. 'Tes a funny place, tu, +nowadays, judgin' from the papers. + +GLADYS. Wonder if there's dancin' in 'Eaven? + +IVY. There's beasts, and flowers, and waters, and 'e told us. + +CLYST. Naw! There's no dumb things in 'Eaven. Jim Bere 'e says +there is! 'E thinks 'is old cat's there. + +IVY. Yes. [Dreamily] There's stars, an' owls, an' a man playin' on +the flute. Where 'tes gude, there must be music. + +CLYST. Old brass band, shuldn' wonder, like th' Salvation Army. + +IVY. [Putting up her hands to an imaginary pipe] No; 'tis a boy +that goes so; an' all the dumb things an' all the people goo after +'im--like this. + + [She marches slowly, playing her imaginary pipe, and one by one + they all fall in behind her, padding round the barn in their + stockinged feet. Passing the big doors, IVY throws them open.] + +An' 'tes all like that in 'Eaven. + + [She stands there gazing out, still playing on her imaginary + pipe. And they all stand a moment silent, staring into the + moonlight.] + +CLYST. 'Tes a glory-be full mune to-night! + +IVY. A goldie-cup--a big one. An' millions o' little goldie-cups on +the floor of 'Eaven. + +MERCY. Oh! Bother 'Eaven! Let's dance "Clapperclaws"! Wake up, +Tibby! + +GLADYS. Clapperelaws, clapperclaws! Come on, Bobbie--make circle! + +CLYST. Clapperclaws! I dance that one fine. + +IVY. [Taking the tambourine] See, Tibby; like this. She hums and +beats gently, then restores the tambourine to the sleepy TIBBY, who, +waking, has placed a piece of apple in her mouth. + +CONNIE. 'Tes awful difficult, this one. + +IVY. [Illustrating] No; yu just jump, an' clap yore 'ands. Lovely, +lovely! + +CLYST. Like ringin' bells! Come ahn! + + [TIBBY begins her drowsy beating, IVY hums the tune; they dance, + and their shadows dance again upon the walls. When she has + beaten but a few moments on the tambourine, TIBBY is overcome + once more by sleep and falls back again into her nest of hay, + with her little shoed feet just visible over the edge of the + bench. Ivy catches up the tambourine, and to her beating and + humming the dancers dance on.] + + [Suddenly GLADYS stops like a wild animal surprised, and cranes + her neck towards the aide door.] + +CONNIE. [Whispering] What is it? + +GLADYS. [Whispering] I hear--some one comin' across the yard. + + [She leads a noiseless scamper towards the shoes. BOBBIE + JARLAND shins up the ladder and seizes the lantern. Ivy drops + the tambourine. They all fly to the big doors, and vanish into + the moonlight, pulling the door nearly to again after them.] + + [There is the sound of scrabbling at the hitch of the side door, + and STRANGWAY comes into the nearly dark barn. Out in the night + the owl is still hooting. He closes the door, and that sound is + lost. Like a man walking in his sleep, he goes up to the + ladder, takes the rope in his hand, and makes a noose. He can + be heard breathing, and in the darkness the motions of his hands + are dimly seen, freeing his throat and putting the noose round + his neck. He stands swaying to and fro at the foot of the + ladder; then, with a sigh, sets his foot on it to mount. One of + the big doors creaks and opens in the wind, letting in a broad + path of moonlight.] + + [STRANGWAY stops; freeing his neck from the noose, he walks + quickly up the track of moonlight, whitened from head to foot, + to close the doors.] + + [The sound of his boots on the bare floor has awakened TIBBY + JARLAND. Struggling out of her hay nest she stands staring at + his whitened figure, and bursts suddenly into a wail.] + +TIBBY. O-oh! Mercy! Where are yu? I'm frightened! I'm +frightened! O-oooo! + +STRANGWAY. [Turning--startled] Who's that? Who is it? + +TIBBY. O-oh! A ghosty! Oo-ooo! + +STRANGWAY. [Going to her quickly] It's me, Tibby--Tib only me! + +TIBBY. I seed a ghosty. + +STRANGWAY. [Taking her up] No, no, my bird, you didn't! It was +me. + +TIBBY. [Burying her face against him] I'm frighted. It was a big +one. [She gives tongue again] O-o-oh! + +STRANGWAY. There, there! It's nothing but me. Look! + +TIBBY. No. [She peeps out all the same.] + +STRANGWAY. See! It's the moonlight made me all white. See! You're +a brave girl now? + +TIBBY. [Cautiously] I want my apple. + + [She points towards her nest. STRANGWAY carries her there, + picks up an apple, and gives it her. TIBBY takes a bite.] + +TIBBY. I want any tambourine. + +STRANGWAY. [Giving her the tambourine, and carrying her back into +the' track of moonlight] Now we're both ghosties! Isn't it funny? + +TABBY. [Doubtfully] Yes. + +STRANGWAY. See! The moon's laughing at us! See? Laugh then! + + [TABBY, tambourine in one hand and apple in the other, smiles + stolidly. He sets her down on the ladder, and stands, holding + her level With him.] + +TABBY. [Solemnly] I'se still frightened. + +STRANGWAY. No! Full moon, Tibby! Shall we wish for it? + +TABBY. Full mune. + +STRANGWAY. Moon! We're wishing for you. Moon, moon! + +TIBBY. Mune, we're wishin' for yu! + +STRANGWAY. What do, you wish it to be? + +TIBBY. Bright new shillin'! + +STRANGWAY. A face. + +TIBBY. Shillin', a shillin'! + +STRANGWAY. [Taking out a shilling and spinning it so that it falls +into her pinafore] See! Your wish comes true. + +TIBBY. Oh! [Putting the shilling in her mouth] Mune's still there! + +STRANGWAY. Wish for me, Tibby! + +TIBBY. Mune. I'm wishin' for yu! + +STRANGWAY. Not yet! + +TIBBY. Shall I shake my tambouline? + +STRANGWAY. Yes, shake your tambouline. + +TIBBY. [Shaking her tambourine] Mune, I'm shaken' at yu. + + [STRANGWAY lays his hand suddenly on the rope, and swings it up + on to the beam.] + +TIBBY. What d'yu du that for? + +STRANGWAY. To put it out of reach. It's better---- + +TIBBY. Why is it better? [She stares up at him.] + +STRANGWAY. Come along, Tibby! [He carries her to the big doors, and +sets her down] See! All asleep! The birds, and the fields, and the +moon! + +TIBBY. Mune, mune, we're wishing for yu! + +STRANGWAY. Send her your love, and say good-night. + +TIBBY. [Blowing a kiss] Good-night, mune! + + [From the barn roof a little white dove's feather comes floating + down in the wind. TIBBY follows it with her hand, catches it, + and holds it up to him.] + +TIBBY. [Chuckling] Luke. The mune's sent a bit o' love! + +STRANGWAY. [Taking the feather] Thank you, Tibby! I want that bit +o' love. [Very faint, comes the sound of music] Listen! + +TIBBY. It's Miss Willis, playin' on the pianny! + +STRANGWAY. No; it's Love; walking and talking in the world. + +TIBBY. [Dubiously] Is it? + +STRANGWAY. [Pointing] See! Everything coming out to listen! See +them, Tibby! All the little things with pointed ears, children, and +birds, and flowers, and bunnies; and the bright rocks, and--men! +Hear their hearts beating! And the wind listening! + +TIBBY. I can't hear--nor I can't see! + +STRANGWAY. Beyond----[To himself] They are--they must be; I swear +they are! [Then, catching sight of TIBBY'S amazed eyes] And now say +good-bye to me. + +TIBBY. Where yu goin'? + +STRANGWAY. I don't know, Tibby. + +VOICE OF MERCY. [Distant and cautious] Tibby! Tibby! Where are +yu? + +STRANGWAY. Mercy calling; run to her! + + [TIBBY starts off, turns back and lifts her face. He bends to + kiss her, and flinging her arms round his neck, she gives him a + good hug. Then, knuckling the sleep out of her eyes, she runs.] + + [STRANGWAY stands, uncertain. There is a sound of heavy + footsteps; a man clears his throat, close by.] + +STRANGWAY. Who's that? + +CREMER. Jack Cremer. [The big man's figure appears out of the +shadow of the barn] That yu, zurr? + +STRANGWAY. Yes, Jack. How goes it? + +CREMER. 'Tes empty, zurr. But I'll get on some'ow. + +STRANGWAY. You put me to shame. + +CREMER. No, zurr. I'd be killin' meself, if I didn' feel I must +stick it, like yu zaid. + + [They stand gazing at each other in the moonlight.] + +STRANGWAY. [Very low] I honour you. + +CREMER. What's that? [Then, as STRANGWAY does not answer] I'll +just be walkin'--I won' be gain' 'ome to-night. 'Tes the full mune-- +lucky. + +STRANGWAY. [Suddenly] Wait for me at the crossroads, Jack. I'll +come with you. Will you have me, brother? + +CREMER. Sure! + +STRANGWAY. Wait, then. + +CREMER. Aye, zurr. + + [With his heavy tread CREMER passes on. And STRANGWAY leans + against the lintel of the door, looking at the moon, that, quite + full and golden, hangs not far above the straight horizon, where + the trees stand small, in a row.] + +STRANGWAY. [Lifting his hand in the gesture of prayer] God, of the +moon and the sun; of joy and beauty, of loneliness and sorrow--give +me strength to go on, till I love every living thing! + + [He moves away, following JACK CREMER. The full moon shines; + the owl hoots; and some one is shaking TIBBY'S tambourine.] + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of A BIT 'O LOVE (Play of 4th Series) +by John Galsworthy. + + + + + + +THE FOUNDATIONS + +(AN EXTRAVAGANT PLAY) + + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + +LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY, M.P. +LADY WILLIAM DROMONDY +LITTLE ANNE +MISS STOKES +MR. POULDER +JAMES +HENRY +THOMAS +CHARLES +THE PRESS +LEMMY +OLD MRS. LEMMY +LITTLE AIDA +THE DUKE OF EXETER + +Some ANTI-SWEATERS; Some SWEATED WORKERS; and a CROWD + + + + +SCENES + +SCENE I. The cellar at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S in Park Lane. + +SCENE II. The room of old MRS. LEMMY in Bethnal Green. + +SCENE III. Ante-room of the hall at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S + + + +The Action passes continuously between 8 and 10.30 of a +summer evening, some years after the Great War. + + + + +ACT I + + +LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S mansion in Park Lane. Eight o'clock of the +evening. LITTLE ANNE DROMONDY and the large footman, JAMES, gaunt +and grin, discovered in the wine cellar, by light of gas. JAMES, in +plush breeches, is selecting wine. + +L. ANNE: James, are you really James? + +JAMES. No, my proper name's John. + +L. ANNE. Oh! [A pause] And is Charles's an improper name too? + +JAMES. His proper name's Mark. + +L. ANNE. Then is Thomas Matthew? + +JAMES. Miss Anne, stand clear o' that bin. You'll put your foot +through one o' those 'ock bottles. + +L. ANNE. No, but James--Henry might be Luke, really? + +JAMES. Now shut it, Miss Anne! + +L. ANNE. Who gave you those names? Not your godfathers and +godmothers? + +JAMES. Poulder. Butlers think they're the Almighty. [Gloomily] +But his name's Bartholomew. + +L. ANNE. Bartholomew Poulder? It's rather jolly. + +JAMES. It's hidjeous. + +L. ANNE. Which do you like to be called--John or James? + +JAMES. I don't give a darn. + +L. ANNE. What is a darn? + +JAMES. 'Tain't in the dictionary. + +L. ANNE. Do you like my name? Anne Dromondy? It's old, you know. +But it's funny, isn't it? + +JAMES. [Indifferently] It'll pass. + +L. ANNE. How many bottles have you got to pick out? + +JAMES. Thirty-four. + +L. ANNE. Are they all for the dinner, or for the people who come in +to the Anti-Sweating Meeting afterwards? + +JAMES. All for the dinner. They give the Sweated--tea. + +L. ANNE. All for the dinner? They'll drink too much, won't they? + +JAMES. We've got to be on the safe side. + +L. ANNE. Will it be safer if they drink too much? + + [JAMES pauses in the act of dusting a bottle to look at her, as + if suspecting irony.] + +[Sniffing] Isn't the smell delicious here-like the taste of cherries +when they've gone bad--[She sniffs again] and mushrooms; and boot +blacking. + +JAMES. That's the escape of gas. + +L. ANNE. Has the plumber's man been? + +JAMES. Yes. + +L. ANNE. Which one? + +JAMES. Little blighter I've never seen before. + +L. ANNE. What is a little blighter? Can I see? + +JAMES. He's just gone. + +L. ANNE. [Straying] Oh! . . . James, are these really the +foundations? + +JAMES. You might 'arf say so. There's a lot under a woppin' big +house like this; you can't hardly get to the bottom of it. + +L. ANNE. Everything's built on something, isn't it? And what's THAT +built on? + +JAMES. Ask another. + +L. ANNE. If you wanted to blow it up, though, you'd have to begin +from here, wouldn't you? + +JAMES. Who'd want to blow it up? + +L. ANNE. It would make a mess in Park Lane. + +JAMES. I've seen a lot bigger messes than this'd make, out in the +war. + +L. ANNE. Oh! but that's years ago! Was it like this in the +trenches, James? + +JAMES. [Grimly] Ah! 'Cept that you couldn't lay your 'and on a +bottle o' port when you wanted one. + +L. ANNE. Do you, when you want it, here? + +JAMES. [On guard] I only suggest it's possible. + +L. ANNE. Perhaps Poulder does. + +JAMES. [Icily] I say nothin' about that. + +L. ANNE. Oh! Do say something! + +JAMES. I'm ashamed of you, Miss Anne, pumpin' me! + +L. ANNE. [Reproachfully] I'm not pumpin'! I only want to make +Poulder jump when I ask him. + +JAMES. [Grinning] Try it on your own responsibility, then; don't +bring me in! + +L. ANNE. [Switching off] James, do you think there's going to be a +bloody revolution? + +JAMES. [Shocked] I shouldn't use that word, at your age. + +L. ANNE. Why not? Daddy used it this morning to Mother. +[Imitating] "The country's in an awful state, darling; there's going +to be a bloody revolution, and we shall all be blown sky-high." Do +you like Daddy? + +JAMES. [Taken aback] Like Lord William? What do you think? We +chaps would ha' done anything for him out there in the war. + +L. ANNE. He never says that he always says he'd have done anything +for you! + +JAMES. Well--that's the same thing. + +L. ANNE. It isn't--it's the opposite. What is class hatred, James? + +JAMES. [Wisely] Ah! A lot o' people thought when the war was over +there'd be no more o' that. [He sniggers] Used to amuse me to read +in the papers about the wonderful unity that was comin'. I could ha' +told 'em different. + +L. ANNE. Why should people hate? I like everybody. + +JAMES. You know such a lot o' people, don't you? + +L. ANNE. Well, Daddy likes everybody, and Mother likes everybody, +except the people who don't like Daddy. I bar Miss Stokes, of +course; but then, who wouldn't? + +JAMES. [With a touch of philosophy] That's right--we all bars them +that tries to get something out of us. + +L. ANNE. Who do you bar, James? + +JAMES. Well--[Enjoying the luxury of thought]--Speaking generally, I +bar everybody that looks down their noses at me. Out there in the +trenches, there'd come a shell, and orf'd go some orficer's head, an' +I'd think: That might ha' been me--we're all equal in the sight o' +the stars. But when I got home again among the torfs, I says to +meself: Out there, ye know, you filled a hole as well as me; but here +you've put it on again, with mufti. + +L. ANNE. James, are your breeches made of mufti? + +JAMES. [Contemplating his legs with a certain contempt] Ah! +Footmen were to ha' been off; but Lord William was scared we wouldn't +get jobs in the rush. We're on his conscience, and it's on my +conscience that I've been on his long enough--so, now I've saved a +bit, I'm goin' to take meself orf it. + +L. ANNE. Oh! Are you going? Where? + +JAMES. [Assembling the last bottles] Out o' Blighty! + +L. ANNE. Is a little blighter a little Englishman? + +JAMES. [Embarrassed] Well-'e can be. + +L. ANNE [Mining] James--we're quite safe down here, aren't we, in a +revolution? Only, we wouldn't have fun. Which would you rather--be +safe, or have fun? + +JAMES. [Grimly] Well, I had my bit o' fun in the war. + +L. ANNE. I like fun that happens when you're not looking. + +JAMES. Do you? You'd ha' been just suited. + +L. ANNE. James, is there a future life? Miss Stokes says so. + +JAMES. It's a belief, in the middle classes. + +L. ANNE. What are the middle classes? + +JAMES. Anything from two 'undred a year to supertax. + +L. ANNE. Mother says they're terrible. Is Miss Stokes middle class? + +JAMES. Yes. + +L. ANNE. Then I expect they are terrible. She's awfully virtuous, +though, isn't she? + +JAMES. 'Tisn't so much the bein' virtuous, as the lookin' it, that's +awful. + +L. ANNE. Are all the middle classes virtuous? Is Poulder? + +JAMES. [Dubiously] Well. Ask him! + +L. ANNE. Yes, I will. Look! + + [From an empty bin on the ground level she picks up a lighted + taper,--burnt almost to the end.] + +JAMES. [Contemplating it] Careless! + +L. Ate. Oh! And look! [She paints to a rounded metal object lying +in the bin, close to where the taper was] It's a bomb! + +She is about to pick it up when JAMES takes her by the waist and puts +her aside. + +JAMES. [Sternly] You stand back, there! I don't like the look o' +that! + +L. ANNE. [With intense interest] Is it really a bomb? What fun! + +JAMES. Go and fetch Poulder while I keep an eye on it. + +L. ANNE. [On tiptoe of excitement] If only I can make him jump! +Oh, James! we needn't put the light out, need we? + +JAMES. No. Clear off and get him, and don't you come back. + +L. ANNE. Oh! but I must! I found it! + +JAMES. Cut along. + +L. ANNE. Shall we bring a bucket? + +JAMES. Yes. [ANNE flies off.] + +[Gazing at the object] Near go! Thought I'd seen enough o'them +to last my time. That little gas blighter! He looked a rum 'un, +too--one o' these 'ere Bolshies. + + [In the presence of this grim object the habits of the past are + too much for him. He sits on the ground, leaning against one of + the bottle baskets, keeping his eyes on the bomb, his large, + lean, gorgeous body spread, one elbow on his plush knee. Taking + out an empty pipe, he places it mechanically, bowl down, between + his dips. There enter, behind him, as from a communication + trench, POULDER, in swallow-tails, with LITTLE ANNE behind him.] + +L. ANNE. [Peering round him--ecstatic] Hurrah! Not gone off yet! +It can't--can it--while James is sitting on it? + +POULDER. [Very broad and stout, with square shoulders,--a large +ruddy face, and a small mouth] No noise, Miss.--James. + +JAMES. Hallo! + +POULDER. What's all this? + +JAMES. Bomb! + +POULDER. Miss Anne, off you go, and don't you---- + +L. ANNE. Come back again! I know! [She flies.] + +JAMES. [Extending his hand with the pipe in it] See! + +POULDER. [Severely] You've been at it again! Look here, you're not +in the trenches now. Get up! What are your breeches goin' to be +like? You might break a bottle any moment! + +JAMES. [Rising with a jerk to a sort of "Attention!"] Look here, +you starched antiquity, you and I and that bomb are here in the sight +of the stars. If you don't look out I'll stamp on it and blow us all +to glory! Drop your civilian swank! + +POULDER. [Seeing red] Ho! Because you had the privilege of +fightin' for your country you still think you can put it on, do you? +Take up your wine! 'Pon my word, you fellers have got no nerve left! + + [JAMES makes a sudden swoop, lifts the bomb and poises it in + both hands. POULDER recoils against a bin and gazes, at the + object.] + +JAMES. Put up your hands! + +POULDER. I defy you to make me ridiculous. + +JAMES. [Fiercely] Up with 'em! + + [POULDER'S hands go up in an uncontrollable spasm, which he + subdues almost instantly, pulling them down again.] + +JAMES. Very good. [He lowers the bomb.] + +POULDER. [Surprised] I never lifted 'em. + +JAMES. You'd have made a first-class Boche, Poulder. Take the bomb +yourself; you're in charge of this section. + +POULDER. [Pouting] It's no part of my duty to carry menial objects; +if you're afraid of it I'll send 'Enry. + +JAMES. Afraid! You 'Op o' me thumb! + + [From the "communication trench" appears LITTLE ANNE, followed + by a thin, sharp, sallow-faced man of thirty-five or so, and + another FOOTMAN, carrying a wine-cooler.] + +L. ANNE. I've brought the bucket, and the Press. + +PRESS. [In front of POULDER'S round eyes and mouth] Ah, major domo, +I was just taking the names of the Anti-Sweating dinner. [He catches +sight of the bomb in JAMES'S hand] By George! What A.1. irony! [He +brings out a note-book and writes] "Highest class dining to relieve +distress of lowest class-bombed by same!" Tipping! [He rubs his +hands]. + +POULDER. [Drawing himself up] Sir? This is present! [He indicates +ANNE with the flat of his hand.] + +L. ANNE. I found the bomb. + +PRESS. [Absorbed] By Jove! This is a piece of luck! [He writes.] + +POULDER. [Observing him] This won't do--it won't do at all! + +PRESS. [Writing-absorbed] "Beginning of the British Revolution!" + +POULDER. [To JAMES] Put it in the cooler. 'Enry, 'old up the +cooler. Gently! Miss Anne, get be'ind the Press. + +JAMES. [Grimly--holding the bomb above the cooler] It won't be the +Press that'll stop Miss Anne's goin' to 'Eaven if one o' this sort +goes off. Look out! I'm goin' to drop it. + + [ALL recoil. HENRY puts the cooler down and backs away.] + +L. ANNE. [Dancing forward] Oh! Let me see! I missed all the war, +you know! + + [JAMES lowers the bomb into the cooler.] + +POULDER. [Regaining courage--to THE PRESS, who is scribbling in his +note-book] If you mention this before the police lay their hands on +it, it'll be contempt o' Court. + +PRESS. [Struck] I say, major domo, don't call in the police! +That's the last resort. Let me do the Sherlocking for you. Who's +been down here? + +L. ANNE. The plumber's man about the gas---a little blighter we'd +never seen before. + +JAMES. Lives close by, in Royal Court Mews--No. 3. I had a word +with him before he came down. Lemmy his name is. + +PRESS. "Lemmy!" [Noting the address] Right-o! + +L. ANNE. Oh! Do let me come with you! + +POULDER. [Barring the way] I've got to lay it all before Lord +William. + +PRESS. Ah! What's he like? + +POULDER. [With dignity] A gentleman, sir. + +PRESS. Then he won't want the police in. + +POULDER. Nor the Press, if I may go so far, as to say so. + +PRESS. One to you! But I defy you to keep this from the Press, +major domo: This is the most significant thing that has happened in +our time. Guy Fawkes is nothing to it. The foundations of Society +reeling! By George, it's a second Bethlehem! + + [He writes.] + +POULDER. [To JAMES] Take up your wine and follow me. 'Enry, bring +the cooler. Miss Anne, precede us. [To THE PRESS] You defy me? +Very well; I'm goin' to lock you up here. + +PRESS. [Uneasy] I say this is medieval. + + [He attempts to pass.] + +POULDER. [Barring the way] Not so! James, put him up in that empty +'ock bin. We can't have dinner disturbed in any way. + +JAMES. [Putting his hands on THE PRESS'S shoulders] Look here--go +quiet! I've had a grudge against you yellow newspaper boys ever +since the war--frothin' up your daily hate, an' makin' the Huns +desperate. You nearly took my life five hundred times out there. If +you squeal, I'm gain' to take yours once--and that'll be enough. + +PRESS. That's awfully unjust. Im not yellow! + +JAMES. Well, you look it. Hup. + +PRESS. Little Lady-Anne, haven't you any authority with these +fellows? + +L. ANNE. [Resisting Poulard's pressure] I won't go! I simply must +see James put him up! + +PRESS. Now, I warn you all plainly--there'll be a leader on this. + + [He tries to bolt but is seized by JAMES.] + +JAMES. [Ironically] Ho! + +PRESS. My paper has the biggest influence + +JAMES. That's the one! Git up in that 'ock bin, and mind your feet +among the claret. + +PRESS. This is an outrage on the Press. + +JAMES. Then it'll wipe out one by the Press on the Public--an' leave +just a million over! Hup! + +POULDER. 'Enry, give 'im an 'and. + + [THE PRESS mounts, assisted by JAMES and HENRY.] + +L. ANNE. [Ecstatic] It's lovely! + +POULDER. [Nervously] Mind the '87! Mind! + +JAMES. Mind your feet in Mr. Poulder's favourite wine! + + [A WOMAN'S voice is heard, as from the depths of a cave, calling + "Anne! Anne!"] + +L. ANNE. [Aghast] Miss Stokes--I must hide! + + [She gets behind POULDER. The three Servants achieve dignified + positions in front of the bins. The voice comes nearer. THE + PRESS sits dangling his feet, grinning. MISS STOKES appears. + She is woman of forty-five and terribly good manners. Her + greyish hair is rolled back off her forehead. She is in a high + evening dress, and in the dim light radiates a startled + composure.] + +MISS STOKES. Poulder, where is Miss Anne? + + [ANNE lays hold of the backs of his legs.] + +POULDER. [Wincing] I am not in a position to inform you, Miss. + +MISS S. They told me she was down here. And what is all this about +a bomb? + +POULDER. [Lifting his hand in a calming manner] The crisis is past; +we have it in ice, Miss. 'Enry, show Miss Stokes! [HENRY indicates +the cooler.] + +MISS S. Good gracious! Does Lord William know? + +POULDER. Not at present, Miss. + +MISS S. But he ought to, at once. + +POULDER. We 'ave 'ad complications. + +MISS S. [Catching sight of the legs of THE PRESS] Dear me! What +are those? + +JAMES. [Gloomily] The complications. + + [MISS STOKES pins up her glasses and stares at them.] + +PRESS. [Cheerfully] Miss Stokes, would you kindly tell Lord William +I'm here from the Press, and would like to speak to him? + +MISS S. But--er--why are you up there? + +JAMES. 'E got up out o' remorse, Miss. + +MISS S. What do you mean, James? + +PRESS. [Warmly] Miss Stokes, I appeal to you. Is it fair to +attribute responsibility to an unsigned journalist--for what he has +to say? + +JAMES. [Sepulchrally] Yes, when you've got 'im in a nice dark +place. + +MISS. S. James, be more respectful! We owe the Press a very great +debt. + +JAMES. I'm goin' to pay it, Miss. + +MISS S. [At a loss] Poulder, this is really most---- + +POULDER. I'm bound to keep the Press out of temptation, miss, till +I've laid it all before Lord William. 'Enry, take up the cooler. +James, watch 'im till we get clear, then bring on the rest of the +wine and lock up. Now, Miss. + +MISS S. But where is Anne? + +PRESS. Miss Stokes, as a lady----! + +MISS S. I shall go and fetch Lord William! + +POULDER. We will all go, Miss. + +L. ANNE. [Rushing out from behind his legs] No--me! + + [She eludes MISS STOKES and vanishes, followed by that + distracted but still well-mannered lady.] + +POULDER. [Looking at his watch] 'Enry, leave the cooler, and take +up the wine; tell Thomas to lay it out; get the champagne into ice, +and 'ave Charles 'andy in the 'all in case some literary bounder +comes punctual. + + [HENRY takes up the wine and goes.] + +PRESS. [Above his head] I say, let me down. This is a bit +undignified, you know. My paper's a great organ. + +POULDER. [After a moment's hesitation] Well--take 'im down, James; +he'll do some mischief among the bottles. + +JAMES. 'Op off your base, and trust to me. + + [THE, PRESS slides off the bin's edge, is received by JAMES, and + not landed gently.] + +POULDER. [Contemplating him] The incident's closed; no ill-feeling, +I hope? + +PRESS. No-o. + +POULDER. That's right. [Clearing his throat] While we're waitin' +for Lord William--if you're interested in wine--[Philosophically] +you can read the history of the times in this cellar. Take 'ock: [He +points to a bin] Not a bottle gone. German product, of course. +Now, that 'ock is 'sa 'avin' the time of its life--maturin' grandly; +got a wonderful chance. About the time we're bringin' ourselves to +drink it, we shall be havin' the next great war. With luck that 'ock +may lie there another quarter of a century, and a sweet pretty wine +it'll be. I only hope I may be here to drink it. Ah! [He shakes his +head]--but look at claret! Times are hard on claret. We're givin' +it an awful doin'. Now, there's a Ponty Canny [He points to a bin]- +if we weren't so 'opelessly allied with France, that wine would have +a reasonable future. As it is--none! We drink it up and up; not +more than sixty dozen left. And where's its equal to come from for a +dinner wine--ah! I ask you? On the other hand, port is steady; made +in a little country, all but the cobwebs and the old boot flavour; +guaranteed by the British Nary; we may 'ope for the best with port. +Do you drink it? + +PRESS. When I get the chance. + +POULDER. Ah! [Clears his throat] I've often wanted to ask: What do +they pay you--if it's not indelicate? + +[THE PRESS shrugs his shoulders.] + +Can you do it at the money? + +[THE PRESS shakes his head.] Still--it's an easy life! I've +regretted sometimes that I didn't have a shot at it myself; +influencin' other people without disclosin' your identity--something +very attractive about that. [Lowering his voice] Between man and +man, now-what do you think of the situation of the country--these +processions of the unemployed--the Red Flag an' the Marsillaisy in +the streets--all this talk about an upheaval? + +PRESS. Well, speaking as a Socialist---- + +POULDER. [Astounded] Why; I thought your paper was Tory! + +PRESS. So it is. That's nothing! + +POULDER. [Open-mouthed] Dear me! [Pointing to the bomb] Do you +really think there's something in this? + +JAMES. [Sepulchrally] 'Igh explosive. + +PRESS. [Taking out his note-book] Too much, anyway, to let it drop. + + [A pleasant voice calls "Poulder! Hallo!".] + +POULDER. [Forming a trumpet with his hand] Me Lord! + + [As LORD WILLIAM appears, JAMES, overcome by reminiscences; + salutes, and is mechanically answered. LORD WILLIAM has + "charm." His hair and moustache are crisp and just beginning to + grizzle. His bearing is free, easy, and only faintly armoured. + He will go far to meet you any day. He is in full evening + dress.] + +LORD W. [Cheerfully] I say, Poulder, what have you and James been +doing to the Press? Liberty of the Press--it isn't what it was, but +there is a limit. Where is he? + + [He turns to Jams between whom and himself there is still the + freemasonry of the trenches.] + +JAMES. [Pointing to POULDER] Be'ind the parapet, me Lord. + + [THE PRESS mopes out from where he has involuntarily been. + screened by POULDER, who looks at JAMES severely. LORD WILLIAM + hides a smile.] + +PRESS. Very glad to meet you, Lord William. My presence down here +is quite involuntary. + +LORD W. [With a charming smile] I know. The Press has to put its-- +er--to go to the bottom of everything. Where's this bomb, Poulder? +Ah! + + [He looks into the wine cooler.] + +PRESS. [Taking out his note-book] Could I have a word with you on +the crisis, before dinner, Lord William? + +LORD W. It's time you and James were up, Poulder. [Indicating the +cooler] Look after this; tell Lady William I'll be there in a +minute. + +POULDER. Very good, me Lord. + + [He goes, followed by JAMES carrying the cooler.] + + [As THE PRESS turns to look after them, LORD WILLIAM catches + sight of his back.] + +LORD W. I must apologise, sir. Can I brush you? + +PRESS. [Dusting himself] Thanks; it's only behind. [He opens his +note-book] Now, Lord William, if you'd kindly outline your views on +the national situation; after such a narrow escape from death, I feel +they might have a moral effect. My paper, as you know, is concerned +with--the deeper aspect of things. By the way, what do you value +your house and collection at? + +LORD W. [Twisting his little mustache] Really: I can't! Really! + +PRESS. Might I say a quarter of a million-lifted in two seconds and +a half-hundred thousand to the second. It brings it home, you know. + +LORD W. No, no; dash it! No! + +PRESS. [Disappointed] I see--not draw attention to your property in +the present excited state of public feeling? Well, suppose we +approach it from the viewpoint of the Anti-Sweating dinner. I have +the list of guests--very weighty! + +LORD W. Taken some lifting-wouldn't they? + +PRESS. [Seriously] May I say that you designed the dinner to soften +the tension, at this crisis? You saw that case, I suppose, this +morning, of the woman dying of starvation in Bethnal Green? + +LORD W. [Desperately] Yes-yes! I've been horribly affected. I +always knew this slump would come after the war, sooner or later. + +PRESS. [Writing] ". . . had predicted slump." + +LORD W. You see, I've been an Anti-Sweating man for years, and I +thought if only we could come together now . . . . + +PRESS. [Nodding] I see--I see! Get Society interested in the +Sweated, through the dinner. I have the menu here. [He produces it.] + +LORD W. Good God, man--more than that! I want to show the people +that we stand side by side with them, as we did in the trenches. The +whole thing's too jolly awful. I lie awake over it. + + [He walks up and down.] + +PRESS. [Scribbling] One moment, please. I'll just get that down-- +"Too jolly awful--lies awake over it. Was wearing a white waistcoat +with pearl buttons." [At a sign of resentment from his victim.] +I want the human touch, Lord William--it's everything in my paper. +What do you say about this attempt to bomb you? + +LORD W. Well, in a way I think it's d---d natural + +PRESS. [Scribbling] "Lord William thought it d---d natural." + +LORD W. [Overhearing] No, no; don't put that down. What I mean is, +I should like to get hold of those fellows that are singing the +Marseillaise about the streets--fellows that have been in the war-- +real sports they are, you know--thorough good chaps at bottom--and +say to them: "Have a feeling heart, boys; put yourself in my +position." I don't believe a bit they'd want to bomb me then. + + [He walks up and down.] + +PRESS. [Scribbling and muttering] "The idea, of brotherhood--" D'you +mind my saying that? Word brotherhood--always effective--always---- + + [He writes.] + +LORD E. [Bewildered] "Brotherhood!" Well, it's pure accident that +I'm here and they're there. All the same, I can't pretend to be +starving. Can't go out into Hyde Park and stand on a tub, can I? +But if I could only show them what I feel--they're such good chaps-- +poor devils. + +PRESS. I quite appreciate! [He writes] "Camel and needle's eye." +You were at Eton and Oxford? Your constituency I know. Clubs? But +I can get all that. Is it your view that Christianity is on the up- +grade, Lord William? + +LORD W. [Dubious] What d'you mean by Christianity--loving--kindness +and that? Of course I think that dogma's got the knock. + + [He walks.] + +PRESS. [Writing] "Lord William thought dogma had got the knock." +I should like you just to develop your definition of Christianity. +"Loving--kindness" strikes rather a new note. + +LORD W. New? What about the Sermon on the Mount? + +PRESS. [Writing] "Refers to Sermon on Mount." I take it you don't +belong to any Church, Lord William? + +LORD W. [Exasperated] Well, really--I've been baptised and that +sort of thing. But look here---- + +PRESS. Oh! you can trust me--I shan't say anything that you'll +regret. Now, do you consider that a religious revival would help to +quiet the country? + +LORD W. Well, I think it would be a deuced, good thing if everybody +were a bit more kind. + +PRESS. Ah! [Musing] I feel that your views are strikingly +original, Lord William. If you could just open out on them a little +more? How far would you apply kindness in practice? + +LORD W. Can you apply it in theory? + +PRESS. I believe it is done. But would you allow yourself to be +blown up with impunity? + +LORD W. Well, that's a bit extreme. But I quite sympathise with +this chap. Imagine yourself in his shoes. He sees a huge house, all +these bottles; us swilling them down; perhaps he's got a starving +wife, or consumptive kids. + +PRESS. [Writing and murmuring] Um-m! "Kids." + +LORD W. He thinks: "But for the grace of God, there swill I. Why +should that blighter have everything and I nothing?" and all that. + +PRESS. [Writing] "And all that." [Eagerly] Yes? + +LORD W. And gradually--you see--this contrast--becomes an obsession +with him. "There's got to be an example made," he thinks; and--er-- +he makes it, don't you know? + +PRESS. [Writing] Ye-es? And--when you're the example? + +LORD W. Well, you feel a bit blue, of course. But my point is that +you quite see it. + +PRESS. From the other world. Do you believe in a future life, Lord +William? The public took a lot of interest in the question, if you +remember, at the time of the war. It might revive at any moment, if +there's to be a revolution. + +LORD W. The wish is always father to the thought, isn't it? + +PRESS. Yes! But--er--doesn't the question of a future life rather +bear on your point about kindness? If there isn't one--why be kind? + +LORD W. Well, I should say one oughtn't to be kind for any motive-- +that's self-interest; but just because one feels it, don't you know. + +PRESS. [Writing vigorously] That's very new--very new! + +LORD W. [Simply] You chaps are wonderful. + +PRESS. [Doubtfully] You mean we're--we're---- + +LORD W. No, really. You have such a d---d hard time. It must be +perfectly beastly to interview fellows like me. + +PRESS. Oh! Not at all, Lord William. Not at all. I assure you +compared with a literary man, it's--it's almost heavenly. + +LORD W. You must have a wonderful knowledge of things. + +PRESS. [Bridling a little] Well--I shouldn't say that. + +LORD W. I don't see how you can avoid it. You turn your hands to +everything. + +PRESS. [Modestly] Well--yes, Yes. + +LORD W. I say: Is there really going to be a revolution, or are you +making it up, you Press? + +PRESS. We don't know. We never know whether we come before the +event, or it comes before us. + +LORD W. That's--very deep--very dip. D'you mind lending me your +note-book a moment. I'd like to stick that down. All right, I'll +use the other end. [THE PRESS hands it hypnotically.] + +LORD W. [Jotting] Thanks awfully. Now what's your real opinion of +the situation? + +PRESS. As a man or a Press man? + +LORD W. Is there any difference? + +PRESS. Is there any connection? + +LORD W. Well, as a man. + +PRESS. As a man, I think it's rotten. + +LORD W. [Jotting] "Rotten." And as a pressman? + +PRESS. [Smiling] Prime. + +LORD W. What! Like a Stilton cheese. Ha, ha! + + [He is about to write.] + +PRESS. My stunt, Lord William. You said that. + + [He jots it on his cuff.] + +LORD W. But look here! Would you say that a strong press movement +would help to quiet the country? + +PRESS. Well, as you ask me, Lord William, I'll tell you. No +newspapers for a month would do the trick. + +LORD W. [Jotting] By Jove! That's brilliant. + +PRESS. Yes, but I should starve. [He suddenly looks up, and his +eyes, like gimlets, bore their way into LORD WILLIAM'S pleasant, +troubled face] Lord William, you could do me a real kindness. +Authorise me to go and interview the fellow who left the bomb here; +I've got his address. I promise you to do it most discreetly. Fact +is--well--I'm in low water. Since the war we simply can't get +sensation enough for the new taste. Now, if I could have an article +headed: "Bombed and Bomber"--sort of double interview, you know, it'd +very likely set me on my legs again. [Very earnestly] Look! +[He holds out his frayed wristbands.] + +LORD W. [Grasping his hand] My dear chap, certainly. Go and +interview this blighter, and then bring him round here. You can do +that for one. I'd very much like to see him, as a matter of fact. + +PRESS. Thanks awfully; I shall never forget it. Oh! might I have +my note-book? + + [LORD WILLIAM hands it back.] + +LORD W. And look here, if there's anything--when a fellow's +fortunate and another's not---- + +[He puts his hand into his breast pocket.] + +PRESS. Oh, thank you! But you see, I shall have to write you up a +bit, Lord William. The old aristocracy--you know what the public +still expects; if you were to lend me money, you might feel---- + +LORD W. By Jove! Never should have dreamt---- + +PRESS. No! But it wouldn't do. Have you a photograph of yourself. + +LORD W. Not on me. + +PRESS. Pity! By the way, has it occurred to you that there may be +another bomb on the premises? + +LORD W. Phew! I'll have a look. + + [He looks at his watch, and begins hurriedly searching the bins, + bending down and going on his knees. THE PRESS reverses the + notebook again and sketches him.] + +PRESS. [To himself] Ah! That'll do. "Lord William examines the +foundations of his house." + + [A voice calls "Bill!" THE PRESS snaps the note-book to, and + looks up. There, where the "communication trench" runs in, + stands a tall and elegant woman in the extreme of evening + dress.] + + [With presence of mind] Lady William? You'll find Lord William +--Oh! Have you a photograph of him? + +LADY W. Not on me. + +PRESS. [Eyeing her] Er--no--I suppose not--no. Excuse me! [He +sidles past her and is gone.] + +LADY W. [With lifted eyebrows] Bill! + +LORD W. [Emerging, dusting his knees] Hallo, Nell! I was just +making sure there wasn't another bomb. + +LADY W. Yes; that's why I came dawn: Who was that person? + +LORD W. Press. + +LADY W. He looked awfully yellow. I hope you haven't been giving +yourself away. + +LORD W. [Dubiously] Well, I don't know. They're like corkscrews. + +LADY W. What did he ask you? + +LORD W. What didn't he? + +LADY W. Well, what did you tell him? + +LORD W. That I'd been baptised--but he promised not to put it down. + +LADY W. Bill, you are absurd. + + [She gives a light tittle laugh.] + +LORD W. I don't remember anything else, except that it was quite +natural we should be bombed, don't you know. + +LADY W. Why, what harm have we done? + +LORD W. Been born, my dear. [Suddenly serious] I say, Nell, how am +I to tell what this fellow felt when he left that bomb here? + +LADY W. Why do you want to? + +LORD W. Out there one used to know what one's men felt. + +LADY W. [Staring] My dear boy, I really don't think you ought to +see the Press; it always upsets you. + +LORD W. Well! Why should you and I be going to eat ourselves silly +to improve the condition of the sweated, when---- + +LADY W. [Calmly] When they're going to "improve" ours, if we don't +look out. We've got to get in first, Bill. + +LORD W. [Gloomily] I know. It's all fear. That's it! Here we +are, and here we shall stay--as if there'd never been a war. + +LADY W. Well, thank heaven there's no "front" to a revolution. You +and I can go to glory together this time. Compact! Anything that's +on, I'm to abate in. + +LORD W. Well, in reason. + +LADY W. No, in rhyme, too. + +LORD W. I say, your dress! + +LADY W. Yes, Poulder tried to stop me, but I wasn't going to have +you blown up without me. + +LORD W. You duck. You do look stunning. Give us a kiss! + +LADY W. [Starting back] Oh, Bill! Don't touch me--your hands! + +LORD W. Never mind, my mouth's clean. + +They stand about a yard apart, and banding their faces towards each +other, kiss on the lips. + +L. ANNE. [Appearing suddenly from the "communication trench," and +tip-toeing silently between them] Oh, Mum! You and Daddy ARE +wasting time! Dinner's ready, you know! + + + CURTAIN + + + + +ACT II + + The single room of old MRS. LEMMY, in a small grey house in + Bethnal Green, the room of one cumbered by little save age, and + the crockery debris of the past. A bed, a cupboard, a coloured + portrait of Queen Victoria, and--of all things--a fiddle, + hanging on the wall. By the side of old MRS. LEMMY in her chair + is a pile of corduroy trousers, her day's sweated sewing, and a + small table. She sits with her back to the window, through + which, in the last of the light, the opposite side of the little + grey street is visible under the evening sky, where hangs one + white cloud shaped like a horned beast. She is still sewing, + and her lips move. Being old, and lonely, she has that habit of + talking to herself, distressing to those who cannot overhear. + From the smack of her tongue she was once a West Country cottage + woman; from the look of her creased, parchmenty face, she was + once a pretty girl with black eyes, in which there is still much + vitality. The door is opened with difficulty and a little girl + enters, carrying a pile of unfinished corduroy trousers nearly + as large as herself. She puts them down against the wall, and + advances. She is eleven or twelve years old; large-eyed, dark + haired, and sallow. Half a woman of this and half of another + world, except when as now, she is as irresponsible a bit of life + as a little flowering weed growing out of a wall. She stands + looking at MRS. LEMMY with dancing eyes. + +L. AIDA. I've brought yer to-morrer's trahsers. Y'nt yer finished +wiv to-dy's? I want to tyke 'em. + +MRS. L. No, me dear. Drat this last one--me old fengers! + +L. AIDA. I learnt some poytry to-dy--I did. + +MRS. L. Well, I never! + +L. AIDA. [Reciting with unction] + + "Little lamb who myde thee? + Dost thou know who myde thee, + Gyve thee life and byde thee feed + By the stream and oer the mead; + Gyve the clothing of delight, + Softest clothing, woolly, bright; + Gyve thee such a tender voice, + Myking all the vyles rejoice. + Little lamb who myde thee? + Dost thou know who myde thee?" + +MRS. L. 'Tes wonderful what things they tache ya nowadays. + +L. AIDA. When I grow up I'm goin' to 'ave a revolver an' shoot the +people that steals my jools. + +MRS. L. Deary-me, wherever du yu get yore notions? + +L. AIDA. An' I'm goin' to ride on as 'orse be'ind a man; an' I'm +goin' to ryce trynes in my motor car. + +MRS. L. [Dryly] Ah!--Yu'um gwine to be very busy, that's sartin. +Can you sew? + +L. AIDA. [With a Smile] Nao. + +MRS. L. Don' they tache Yu that, there? + +L. AIDA. [Blending contempt and a lingering curiosity] Nao. + +MRS. L. 'Tes wonderful genteel. + +L. AIDA. I can sing, though. + +MRS. L. Let's 'ear yu, then. + +L. AIDA. [Shaking her head] I can ply the pianner. I can ply a +tune. + +MRS. L. Whose pianner? + +L. AIDA. Mrs. Brahn's when she's gone aht. + +MRS. L. Well, yu are gettin' edjucation! Du they tache yu to love +yore neighbours? + +L. AIDA. [Ineffably] Nao. [Straying to the window] Mrs. Lemmy, +what's the moon? + +MRS. L. The mune? Us used to zay 'twas made o' crame cheese. + +L. AIDA. I can see it. + +MRS. L. Ah! Don' yu never go wishin' for it, me dear. + +L. AIDA. I daon't. + +MRS. L. Folks as wish for the mune never du no gude. + +L. AIDA. [Craning out, brilliant] I'm goin' dahn in the street. +I'll come back for yer trahsers. + +MRS. L. Well; go yu, then, and get a breath o' fresh air in yore +chakes. I'll sune 'a feneshed. + +L. AIDA. [Solemnly] I'm goin' to be a dancer, I am. + +She rushes suddenly to the door, pulls it open, and is gone. + +MRS. L. [Looking after her, and talking to herself.] Ah! 'Er've +a-got all 'er troubles before 'er! "Little lamb, a made'ee?" +[Cackling] 'Tes a funny world, tu! [She sings to herself.] + + "There is a green 'ill far away + Without a city wall, + Where our dear-Lord was crucified, + 'U died to save us all." + + The door is opened, and LEMMY comes in; a little man with a + stubble of dark moustache and spiky dark hair; large, peculiar + eyes he has, and a look of laying his ears back, a look of + doubting, of perversity with laughter up the sleeve, that grows + on those who have to do with gas and water. He shuts the door. + +MRS. L. Well, Bob, I 'aven't a-seen yu this tu weeks. + + LEMMY comes up to his mother, and sits down on a stool, sets a + tool-bag between his knees, and speaks in a cockney voice. + +LEMMY. Well, old lydy o' leisure! Wot would y' 'ave for supper, if +yer could choose--salmon wivaht the tin, an' tipsy cyke? + +MRS. L. [Shaking her head and smiling blandly] That's showy. Toad +in the 'ole I'd 'ave--and a glass o' port wine. + +LEMMY. Providential. [He opens a tool-bag] Wot dyer think I've got +yer? + +MRS. L. I 'ope yu've a-got yureself a job, my son! + +LEMMY. [With his peculiar smile] Yus, or I couldn't 'ave afforded +yer this. [He takes out a bottle] Not 'arf! This'll put the blood +into yer. Pork wine--once in the cellars of the gryte. We'll drink +the ryyal family in this. + +[He apostrophises the portrait of Queen Victoria.] + +MRS. L. Ah! She was a praaper gude queen. I see 'er once, when 'er +was bein' burried. + +LEMMY. Ryalties--I got nothin' to sy agynst 'em in this country. +But the STYTE 'as got to 'ave its pipes seen to. The 'ole show's +goin' up pop. Yer'll wyke up one o' these dyes, old lydy, and find +yerself on the roof, wiv nuffin' between yer an' the grahnd. + +MRS. L. I can't tell what yu'm talkin' about. + +LEMMY. We're goin' to 'ave a triumpherat in this country Liberty, +Equality, Fraternity; an' if yer arsk me, they won't be in power six +months before they've cut each other's throats. But I don't care--I +want to see the blood flow! (Dispassionately) I don' care 'oose +blood it is. I want to see it flow! + +MRS. L. [Indulgently] Yu'm a funny boy, that's sartin. + +LEMMY. [Carving at the cork with a knife] This 'ere cork is like +Sasiety--rotten; it's old--old an' moulderin'. [He holds up a bit of +cork on the point of the knife] Crumblin' under the wax, it is. In +goes the screw an' out comes the cork. [With unction]--an' the blood +flows. [Tipping the bottle, he lets a drop fall into the middle of +his hand, and licks it up. Gazing with queer and doubting +commiseration at has mother] Well, old dear, wot shall we 'ave it +aht of--the gold loving-cup, or--what? 'Ave yer supper fust, though, +or it'll go to yer 'ead! [He goes to the cupboard and taken out a +disk in which a little bread is sopped in a little' milk] Cold pap! +'Ow can yer? 'Yn't yer got a kipper in the 'ouse? + +MRS. L. [Admiring the bottle] Port wine! 'Tis a brave treat! I'll +'ave it out of the "Present from Margitt," Bob. I tuk 'ee therr by +excursion when yu was six months. Yu 'ad a shrimp an' it choked yu +praaperly. Yu was always a squeamy little feller. I can't never +think 'ow yu managed in the war-time, makin' they shells. + + LEMMY, who has brought to the table two mugs and blown the duet + out of; them, fills them with port, and hands one to his mother, + who is eating her bread and milk. + +LEMMY. Ah! Nothin' worried me, 'cept the want o' soap. + +MRS. L. [Cackling gently] So it du still, then! Luke at yore face. +Yu never was a clean boy, like Jim. + + [She puts out a thin finger and touches his cheek, whereon is a + black smudge.] + +LEMMY. [Scrubbing his cheek with his sleeve.] All right! Y'see, I +come stryte 'ere, to get rid o' this. + + [He drinks.] + +MRS. L. [Eating her bread and milk] Tes a pity yu'm not got a wife +to see't yu wash yureself. + +LEMMY. [Goggling] Wife! Not me--I daon't want ter myke no food for +pahder. Wot oh!--they said, time o' the war--ye're fightin' for yer +children's 'eritage. Well; wot's the 'eritage like, now we've got +it? Empty as a shell before yer put the 'igh explosive in. Wot's it +like? [Warming to his theme] Like a prophecy in the pypers--not a +bit more substantial. + +MRS. L. [Slightly hypnotised] How 'e du talk! The gas goes to yore +'ead, I think! + +LEMMY. I did the gas to-dy in the cellars of an 'ouse where the wine +was mountains 'igh. A regiment couldn't 'a drunk it. Marble pillars +in the 'all, butler broad as an observytion balloon, an' four +conscientious khaki footmen. When the guns was roarin' the talk was +all for no more o' them glorious weeds-style an' luxury was orf. See +wot it is naow. You've got a bare crust in the cupboard 'ere, I +works from 'and to mouth in a glutted market--an' there they stand +abaht agyne in their britches in the 'oases o' the gryte. I was +reg'lar overcome by it. I left a thing in that cellar--I left a +thing . . . . It'll be a bit ork'ard for me to-mower. [Drinks +from his mug.] + +MRS. L. [Placidly, feeling the warmth of the little she has drunk] +What thing? + +LEMMY. Wot thing? Old lydy, ye're like a winkle afore yer opens +'er--I never see anything so peaceful. 'Ow dyer manage it? + +MRS. L. Settin' 'ere and thenkin'. + +LEA. Wot abaht? + +MRS. L. We-el--Money, an' the works o' God. + +LEMMY. Ah! So yer give me a thought sometimes. + +MRS. L. [Lofting her mug] Yu ought never to ha' spent yore money on +this, Bob! + +LEMMY. I thought that meself. + +MRS. L. Last time I 'ad a glass o' port wine was the day yore +brother Jim went to Ameriky. [Smacking her lips] For a teetotal +drink, it du warm 'ee! + +LEMMY. [Raising his mug] Well, 'ere's to the British revolution! +'Ere's to the conflygrytion in the sky! + +MRS. L. [Comfortably] So as to kape up therr, 'twon't du no 'arm. + + LEMMY goes to the window and unhooks his fiddle; he stands with + it halfway to his shoulder. Suddenly he opens the window and + leans out. A confused murmur of voices is heard; and a snatch + of the Marseillaise, sung by a girl. Then the shuffling tramp + of feet, and figures are passing in the street. + +LEMMY. [Turning--excited] Wot'd I tell yer, old lydy? There it is- +-there it is! + +MRS. L. [Placidly] What is? + +LEMMY. The revolution. [He cranes out] They've got it on a barrer. +Cheerio! + +VOICE. [Answering] Cheerio! + +LEMMY. [Leaning out] I sy--you 'yn't tykin' the body, are yer? + +VOICE. Nao. + +LEMMY. Did she die o' starvytion O.K.? + +VOICE. She bloomin' well did; I know 'er brother. + +LEMMY. Ah! That'll do us a bit o' good! + +VOICE. Cheerio! + +LEMMY. So long! + +VOICE. So long! + + [The girl's voice is heard again in the distance singing the + Marseillaise. The door is flung open and LITTLE AIDA comes + running in again.] + +LEMMY. 'Allo, little Aida! + +L. AIDA. 'Allo, I been follerin' the corfin. It's better than an +'orse dahn! + +MRS. L. What coffin? + +L. AIDA. Why, 'er's wot died o' starvytion up the street. They're +goin' to tyke it to 'Yde Pawk, and 'oller. + +MRS. L. Well, never yu mind wot they'm goin' to du: Yu wait an' take +my trousers like a gude gell. + + [She puts her mug aside and takes up her unfinished pair of + trousers. But the wine has entered her fingers, and strength to + push the needle through is lacking.] + +LEMMY. [Tuning his fiddle] Wot'll yer 'ave, little Aida? "Dead March +in Saul" or "When the fields was white wiv dysies"? + +L. AIDA. [With a hop and a brilliant smile] Aoh yus! "When the +fields"---- + +MRS. L. [With a gesture of despair] Deary me! I 'aven't a-got the +strength! + +LEMMY. Leave 'em alone, old dear! No one'll be goin' aht wivaht +trahsers to-night 'cos yer leaves that one undone. Little Aida, fold +'em up! + + [LITTLE AIDA methodically folds the five finished pairs of + trousers into a pile. LEMMY begins playing. A smile comes on + the face of MRS. L, who is rubbing her fingers. LITTLE AIDA, + trousers over arm, goes and stares at LEMMY playing.] + +LEMMY. [Stopping] Little Aida, one o' vese dyes yer'll myke an +actress. I can see it in yer fyce! + + [LITTLE AIDA looks at him wide-eyed.] + +MRS. L. Don't 'ee putt things into 'er 'ead, Bob! + +LEMMY. 'Tyn't 'er 'ead, old lydy--it's lower. She wants feedin'-- +feed 'er an' she'll rise. [He strikes into the "Machichi"] Look at +'er naow. I tell yer there's a fortune in 'er. + + [LITTLE AIDA has put out her tongue.] + +MRS. L. I'd saner there was a gude 'eart in 'er than any fortune. + +L. AIDA. [Hugging her pile of trousers] It's thirteen pence three +farthin's I've got to bring yer, an' a penny aht for me, mykes twelve +three farthin's: [With the same little hop and sudden smile] I'm +goin' to ride back on a bus, I am. + +LEMMY. Well, you myke the most of it up there; it's the nearest +you'll ever git to 'eaven. + +MRS. L. Don' yu discourage 'er, Bob; she'm a gude little thing, an't +yu, dear? + +L. AIDA. [Simply] Yus. + +LEMMY. Not 'arf. Wot c'her do wiv yesterdy's penny? + +L. AIDA. Movies. + +LEMMY. An' the dy before? + +L. AIDA. Movies. + +LEMMY. Wot'd I tell yer, old lydy--she's got vicious tystes, she'll +finish in the theayter yep Tyke my tip, little Aida; you put every +penny into yer foundytions, yer'll get on the boards quicker that wy. + +MRS. L. Don' yu pay no 'eed to his talk. + +L. AIDA. I daon't. + +Ice. Would yer like a sip aht o' my mug? + +L. AIDA. [Brilliant] Yus. + +MRS. L. Not at yore age, me dear, though it is teetotal. + + [LITTLE AIDA puts her head on one side, like a dog trying to + understand.] + +LEMMY. Well, 'ave one o' my gum-drops. + + [Holds out a paper.] + + [LITTLE AIDA brilliant, takes a flat, dark substance from it, + and puts it in her mouth.] + +Give me a kiss, an' I'll give yer a penny. + + [LITTLE AIDA shakes her head, and leans out of window.] + +Movver, she daon't know the valyer of money. + +MRS. L. Never mind 'im, me dear. + +L. AIDA. [Sucking the gum-drop--with difficulty] There's a taxi-cab +at the corner. + + [LITTLE AIDA runs to the door. A figure stands in the doorway; + she skids round him and out. THE PRESS comes in.] + +LEMMY. [Dubiously] Wat-oh! + +PRESS. Mr. Lemmy? + +LEMMY. The syme. + +PRESS. I'm from the Press. + +LEMMY. Blimy. + +PRESS. They told me at your place you wens very likely here. + +LEMMY. Yus I left Downin' Street a bit early to-dy! [He twangs the +feddle-strings pompously.] + +PRESS. [Taking out his note-book and writing] "Fiddles while Rome +is burning!" Mr. Lemmy, it's my business at this very critical time +to find out what the nation's thinking. Now, as a representative +working man + +LEMMY. That's me. + +PRESS. You can help me. What are your views? + +LEMMY. [Putting down fiddle] Voos? Sit dahn! + + [THE PRESS sits on the stool which LEMMY has vacated.] + +The Press--my Muvver. Seventy-seven. She's a wonder; 'yn't yer, old +dear? + +PRESS. Very happy to make your acquaintance, Ma'am. [He writes] +"Mrs. Lemmy, one of the veterans of industry----" By the way, I've +jest passed a lot of people following a coffin. + + +LEMMY. Centre o' the cyclone--cyse o' starvytion; you 'ad 'er in the +pyper this mornin'. + +PRESS. Ah! yes! Tragic occurrence. [Looking at the trousers.] Hub +of the Sweated Industries just here. I especially want to get at the +heart---- + +MRS. L. 'Twasn't the 'eart, 'twas the stomach. + +PRESS. [Writing] "Mrs. Lemmy goes straight to the point." + +LEMMY. Mister, is it my voos or Muvver's yer want? + +PRESS. Both. + +LEMMY. 'Cos if yer get Muvver's, yer won't 'ave time for mine. I +tell yer stryte [Confidentially] she's get a glawss a' port wine in +'er. Naow, mind yer, I'm not anxious to be intervooed. On the other +'and, anyfink I might 'eve to sy of valyer----There is a clawss o' +politician that 'as nuffn to sy--Aoh! an' daon't 'e sy it just! I +dunno wot pyper yer represent. + +PRESS. [Smiling] Well, Mr. Lemmy, it has the biggest influ---- + +LEMMY. They all 'as that; dylies, weeklies, evenin's, Sundyes; but +it's of no consequence--my voos are open and aboveboard. Naow, wot +shall we begin abaht? + +PRESS. Yourself, if you please. And I'd like you to know at once +that my paper wants the human note, the real heart-beat of things. + +LEMMY. I see; sensytion! Well; 'ere am I--a fustclawss plumber's. +assistant--in a job to-dy an' out tomorrer. There's a 'eart-beat in +that, I tell yer. 'Oo knows wot the mower 'as for me! + +PRESS. [Writing]. "The great human issue--Mr. Lemmy touches it at +once." + +LEMMY. I sy keep my nyme aht o' this; I don' go in fer self- +advertisement. + +PRESS. [Writing] "True working-man--modest as usual." + +LEMMY. I daon't want to embarrass the Gover'ment. They're so +ticklish ever since they got the 'abit, war-time, o' mindin' wot +people said. + +PRESS. Right-o! + +LEMMY. For instance, suppose there's goin' to be a revolution---- +[THE PRESS writes with energy.] 'Ow does it touch me? Like this: I +my go up--I cawn't come dahn; no more can Muvver. + +MRS. L. [Surprisingly] Us all goes down into the grave. + +PRESS. "Mrs. Lemmy interjects the deeper note." + +LEMMY. Naow, the gryte--they can come dahn, but they cawn't go up! +See! Put two an' two together, an' that's 'ow it touches me. [He +utters a throaty laugh] 'Ave yer got that? + +PRESS. [Quizzical] Not go up? What about bombs, Mr. Lemmy? + +LEMMY. [Dubious] Wot abaht 'em? I s'pose ye're on the comic +pypers? 'Ave yer noticed wot a weakness they 'ave for the 'orrible? + +PRESS. [Writing] "A grim humour peeped out here and there through +the earnestness of his talk." + + [He sketches LEMMY'S profile.] + +LEMMY. We 'ad an explosion in my factory time o' the war, that would +just ha' done for you comics. [He meditates] Lord! They was after +it too,--they an' the Sundyes; but the Censor did 'em. Strike me, I +could tell yer things! + +PRESS. That's what I want, Mr. Lemmy; tell me things! + +LEMMY. [Musing] It's a funny world, 'yn't it? 'Ow we did blow each +other up! [Getting up to admire] I sy, I shall be syfe there. That +won't betry me anonymiety. Why! I looks like the Prime Minister! + +PRESS. [Rather hurt] You were going to tell me things. + +LEMMY. Yus, an' they'll be the troof, too. + +PRESS. I hope so; we don't---- + +LEMMY. Wot oh! + +PRESS. [A little confused.] We always try to verify---- + +LEMMY. Yer leave it at tryin', daon't yer? Never, mind, ye're a +gryte institootion. Blimy, yer do have jokes, wiv it, spinnin' rahnd +on yer own tyles, denyin' to-dy wot ye're goin' to print to-morrer. +Ah, well! Ye're like all of us below the line o' comfort--live +dyngerously--ever' dy yer last. That's wy I'm interested in the +future. + +PRESS. Well now--the future. [Writing] "He prophesies." + +LEMMY. It's syfer, 'yn't it? [He winks] No one never looks back on +prophecies. I remembers an editor spring o' 1916 stykin' his +reputytion the war'd be over in the follerin' October. Increased 'is +circulytion abaht 'arf a million by it. 1917 an' war still on--'ad +'is readers gone back on 'im? Nao! They was increasin' like +rabbits. Prophesy wot people want to believe, an' ye're syfe. Naow, +I'll styke my reputption on somethin', you tyke it dahn word for +word. This country's goin' to the dawgs--Naow, 'ere's the +sensytion--unless we gets a new religion. + +PRESS. Ah! Now for it--yes? + +LEMMY. In one word: "Kindness." Daon't mistyke me, nao sickly +sentiment and nao patronizin'. Me as kind to the millionaire as 'im +to me. [Fills his mug and drinks.] + +PRESS. [Struck] That's queer! Kindness! [Writing] "Extremes +meet. Bombed and bomber breathing the same music." + +LEMMY. But 'ere's the interestin' pynt. Can it be done wivaht +blood? + +PRESS. [Writing] "He doubts." + +LEMMY. No dabt wotever. It cawn't! Blood-and-kindness! Spill the +blood o' them that aren't kind--an' there ye are! + +PRESS. But pardon me, how are you to tell? + +LEMMY. Blimy, they leaps to the heye! + +PRESS. [Laying down-his note-book] I say, let me talk to you as man +to man for a moment. + +LEMMY. Orl right. Give it a rest! + +PRESS. Your sentiments are familiar to me. I've got a friend on the +Press who's very keen on Christ and kindness; and wants to strangle +the last king with the--hamstrings of the last priest. + +LEMMY. [Greatly intrigued] Not 'arf! Does 'e? + +PRESS. Yes. But have you thought it out? Because he hasn't. + +LEMMY. The difficulty is--where to stop. + +PRESS. Where to begin. + +LEMMY. Lawd! I could begin almost anywhere. Why, every month +abaht, there's a cove turns me aht of a job 'cos I daon't do just wot +'e likes. They'd 'ave to go. . I tell yer stryte--the Temple wants +cleanin' up. + +PRESS. Ye-es. If I wrote what I thought, I should get the sack as +quick as you. D'you say that justifies me in shedding the blood of +my boss? + +LEMMY. The yaller Press 'as got no blood--'as it? You shed their +ile an' vinegar--that's wot you've got to do. Stryte--do yer believe +in the noble mission o' the Press? + +PRESS. [Enigmatically] Mr. Lemmy, I'm a Pressman. + +LEMMY. [Goggling] I see. Not much! [Gently jogging his mother's +elbow] Wyke up, old lydy! + + [For Mrs. LEMMY who has been sipping placidly at her port, is + nodding. The evening has drawn in. LEMMY strikes a match on + his trousers and lights a candle.] + +Blood an' kindness-that's what's wanted--'specially blood! The +'istory o' me an' my family'll show yer that. Tyke my bruver Fred- +crushed by burycrats. Tyke Muvver 'erself. Talk o' the wrongs o' +the people! I tell yer the foundytions is rotten. [He empties the +bottle into his mother's mug] Daon't mind the mud at the bottom, old +lydy--it's all strengthenin'! You tell the Press, Muvver. She can +talk abaht the pawst. + +PRESS. [Taking up his note-book, and becoming, again his +professional self] Yes, Mrs. Lemmy? "Age and Youth--Past and +Present--" + +MRS. L. Were yu talkin' about Fred? [The port has warmed her veins, +the colour in her eyes and cheeks has deepened] My son Fred was +always a gude boy--never did nothin' before 'e married. I can see +Fred [She bends forward a little in her chair, looking straight +before her] acomin' in wi' a pheasant 'e'd found--terrible 'e was at +findin' pheasants. When father died, an' yu was cumin', Bob, Fred 'e +said to me: "Don't yu never cry, Mother, I'll look after 'ee." An' +so 'e did, till 'e married that day six months an' take to the drink +in sower. 'E wasn't never 'the same boy again--not Fred. An' now +'e's in That. I can see poor Fred---- + + [She slowly wipes a tear out of the corner of an eye with the + back of her finger.] + +PRESS. [Puzzled] In--That? + +LEMMY. [Sotto voce] Come orf it! Prison! 'S wot she calls it. + +MRS. L. [Cheerful] They say life's a vale o' sorrows. Well, so +'tes, but don' du to let yureself thenk so. + +PRESS. And so you came to London, Mrs. Lemmy? + +MRS. L. Same year as father died. With the four o' them--that's my +son Fred, an' my son Jim, an' my son Tom, an' Alice. Bob there, 'e +was born in London--an' a praaper time I 'ad of et. + +PRESS. [Writing] "Her heroic struggles with poverty----" + +MRS. L. Worked in a laundry, I ded, at fifteen shellin's a week, an' +brought 'em all up on et till Alice 'ad the gallopin' consumption. I +can see poor Alice wi' the little red spots is 'er cheeks---an' I not +knowin' wot to du wi' 'her--but I always kept up their buryin' money. +Funerals is very dear; Mr. Lemmy was six pound, ten. + +PRESS. "High price of Mr. Lemmy." + +MRS. L. I've a-got the money for when my time come; never touch et, +no matter 'ow things are. Better a little goin' short here below, +an' enter the kingdom of 'eaven independent: + +PRESS. [Writing] "Death before dishonour--heroine of the slums. +Dickens--Betty Higden." + +MRS. L. No, sir. Mary Lemmy. I've seen a-many die, I 'ave; an' not +one grievin'. I often says to meself: [With a little laugh] "Me +dear, when yu go, yu go 'appy. Don' yu never fret about that," I +says. An' so I will; I'll go 'appy. + + [She stays quite still a moment, and behind her LEMMY draws one + finger across his face.] + +[Smiling] "Yore old fengers'll 'ave a rest. Think o' that!" I says. +"'Twill be a brave change." I can see myself lyin' there an' duin' +nothin'. + + [Again a pause, while MRS. LEMMY sees herself doing nothing.] + +LEMMY. Tell abaht Jim; old lydy. + +MRS. L. My son Jim 'ad a family o' seven in six years. "I don' know +'ow 'tes, Mother," 'e used to say to me; "they just sim to come!" +That was Jim--never knu from day to day what was cumin'. "Therr's +another of 'em dead," 'e used to say, "'tes funny, tu" "Well," I +used to say to 'im; "no wonder, poor little things, livin' in they +model dwellin's. Therr's no air for 'em," I used to say. "Well," 'e +used to say, "what can I du, Mother? Can't afford to live in Park +Lane:" An' 'e take an' went to Ameriky. [Her voice for the first +time is truly doleful] An' never came back. Fine feller. So that's +my four sons--One's dead, an' one's in--That, an' one's in Ameriky, +an' Bob 'ere, poor boy, 'e always was a talker. + + [LEMMY, who has re-seated himself in the window and taken up his + fiddle, twangs the strings.] + +PRESS. And now a few words about your work, Mrs. Lemmy? + +MRS. L. Well, I sews. + +PRESS. [Writing] "Sews." Yes? + +MRS. L. [Holding up her unfinished pair of trousers] I putt in the +button'oles, I stretches the flies, I lines the crutch, I putt on +this bindin', [She holds up the calico that binds the top] I sews on +the buttons, I press the seams--Tuppence three farthin's the pair. + +PRESS. Twopence three farthings a pair! Worse than a penny a line! + +MRS. L. In a gude day I gets thru four pairs, but they'm gettin' +plaguey 'ard for my old fengers. + +PRESS. [Writing] "A monumental figure, on whose labour is built the +mighty edifice of our industrialism." + +LEMMY. I sy--that's good. Yer'll keep that, won't yet? + +MRS. L. I finds me own cotton, tuppence three farthin's, and other +expension is a penny three farthin's. + +PRESS. And are you an exception, Mrs. Lemmy? + +MRS. L. What's that? + +LEMMY. Wot price the uvvers, old lydy? Is there a lot of yer sewin' +yer fingers orf at tuppence 'ypenny the pair? + +MRS. L. I can't tell yu that. I never sees nothin' in 'ere. I pays +a penny to that little gell to bring me a dozen pair an' fetch 'em +back. Poor little thing, she'm 'ardly strong enough to carry 'em. +Feel! They'm very 'eavy! + +PRESS. On the conscience of Society! + +LEMMY. I sy put that dahn, won't yer? + +PRESS. Have things changed much since the war, Mrs. Lemmy? + +MRS. L. Cotton's a lot dearer. + +PRESS. All round, I mean. + +MRS. L. Aw! Yu don' never get no change, not in my profession. +[She oscillates the trousers] I've a-been in trousers fifteen year; +ever since I got to old for laundry. + +PRESS. [Writing] "For fifteen years sewn trousers." What would a +good week be, Mrs. Lemmy? + +MRS. L. 'Tes a very gude week, five shellin's. + +LEMMY. [From the window] Bloomin' millionairess, Muvver. She's +lookin' forward to 'eaven, where vey don't wear no trahsers. + +MRS. L. [With spirit] 'Tidn for me to zay whether they du. An' +'tes on'y when I'm a bit low-sperrity-like as I wants to go therr. +What I am a-lukin' forward to, though, 'tes a day in the country. +I've not a-had one since before the war. A kind lady brought me in +that bit of 'eather; 'tes wonderful sweet stuff when the 'oney's in +et. When I was a little gell I used to zet in the 'eather gatherin' +the whorts, an' me little mouth all black wi' eatin' them. 'Twas in +the 'eather I used to zet, Sundays, courtin'. All flesh is grass-- +an' 'tesn't no bad thing--grass. + +PRESS. [Writing] "The old paganism of the country." What is your +view of life, Mrs. Lemmy? + +LEMMY. [Suddenly] Wot is 'er voo of life? Shall I tell yer mine? +Life's a disease--a blinkin' oak-apple! Daon't myke no mistyke. An' +'umen life's a yumourous disease; that's all the difference. Why-- +wot else can it be? See the bloomin' promise an' the blighted +performance--different as a 'eadline to the noos inside. But yer +couldn't myke Muvver see vat--not if yer talked to 'er for a wok. +Muvver still believes in fings. She's a country gell; at a 'undred +and fifty she'll be a country gell, won't yer, old lydy? + +MRS. L. Well, 'tesn't never been 'ome to me in London. I lived in +the country forty year--I did my lovin' there; I burried father +therr. Therr bain't nothin' in life, yu know, but a bit o' lovin'-- +all said an' done; bit o' lovin', with the wind, an' the stars out. + +LEMMY. [In a loud apologetic whisper] She 'yn't often like this. I +told yer she'd got a glawss o' port in 'er. + +MRS. L. 'Tes a brave pleasure, is lovin'. I likes to zee et in +young folk. I likes to zee 'em kissin'; shows the 'eart in 'em. +'Tes the 'eart makes the world go round; 'tesn't nothin' else, in my +opinion. + +PRESS. [Writing] "--sings the swan song of the heart."---- + +MRS. L. [Overhearing] No, I never yeard a swan sing--never! But I +tell 'ee what I 'eve 'eard; the Bells singin' in th' orchard 'angin' +up the clothes to dry, an' the cuckoos callin' back to 'em. +[Smiling] There's a-many songs in the country-the 'eart is freelike +in th' country! + +LEMMY. [Soto voce] Gi' me the Strand at ar' past nine. + +PRESS. [Writing] "Town and country----" + +MRS. L. 'Tidn't like that in London; one day's jest like another. +Not but what therr's a 'eap o' kind'eartedness 'ere. + +LEMMY. [Gloomily] Kind-'eartedness! I daon't fink "Boys an' Gells +come out to play." + + [He plays the old tune on his fiddle.] + +MRS. L. [Singing] "Boys an' Gells come out to play. The mune is +shinin' bright as day." [She laughs] I used to sing like a lark +when I was a gell. + + [LITTLE AIDA enters.] + +L. AIDA. There's 'undreds follerin' the corfin. 'Yn't you goin', +Mr. Lemmy--it's dahn your wy! + +LEMMY. [Dubiously] Well yus--I s'pose they'll miss me. + +L. AIDA. Aoh! Tyke me! + +PRESS. What's this? + +LEMMY. The revolution in 'Yde Pawk. + +PRESS. [Struck] In Hyde Park? The very thing. I'll take you down. +My taxi's waiting. + +L. AIDA. Yus; it's breathin' 'ard, at the corner. + +PRESS. [Looking at his watch] Ah! and Mrs. Lemmy. There's an Anti- +Sweating Meeting going on at a house in Park Lane. We can get there +in twenty minutes if we shove along. I want you to tell them about +the trouser-making. You'll be a sensation! + +LEMMY. [To himself] Sensytion! 'E cawn't keep orf it! + +MRS. L. Anti-Sweat. Poor fellers! I 'ad one come to see we before +the war, an' they'm still goin' on? Wonderful, an't it? + +PRESS. Come, Mrs. Lemmy; drive in a taxi, beautiful moonlit night; +and they'll give you a splendid cup of tea. + +MRS. L. [Unmoved] Ah! I cudn't never du without my tea. There's +not an avenin' but I thinks to meself: Now, me dear, yu've a-got one +more to fennish, an' then yu'll 'eve yore cup o' tea. Thank you for +callin', all the same. + +LEMMY. Better siccumb to the temptytion, old lydy; joyride wiv the +Press; marble floors, pillars o' gold; conscientious footmen; lovely +lydies; scuppers runnin' tea! An' the revolution goin' on across the +wy. 'Eaven's nuffink to Pawk Lyne. + +PRESS. Come along, Mrs. Lemmy! + +MRS. L. [Seraphically] Thank yu,--I'm a-feelin' very comfortable. +'Tes wonderful what a drop o' wine'll du for the stomach. + +PRESS. A taxi-ride! + +MRS. L. [Placidly] Ah! I know'em. They'm very busy things. + +LEMMY. Muvver shuns notority. [Sotto voce to THE PRESS] But you +watch me! I'll rouse 'er. + + [He takes up his fiddle and sits on the window seat. Above the + little houses on the opposite side of the street, the moon has + risen in the dark blue sky, so that the cloud shaped like a + beast seems leaping over it. LEMMY plays the first notes of the + Marseillaise. A black cat on the window-sill outside looks in, + hunching its back. LITTLE AIDA barks at her. MRS. LEMMY + struggles to her feet, sweeping the empty dish and spoon to the + floor in the effort.] + +The dish ran awy wiv the spoon! That's right, old lydy! [He stops +playing.] + +MRS. L. [Smiling, and moving her hands] I like a bit o' music. It +du that move 'ee. + +PRESS. Bravo, Mrs. Lemmy. Come on! + +LEMMY. Come on, old dear! We'll be in time for the revolution yet. + +MRS. L. 'Tes 'earin' the Old 'Undred again! + +LEMMY. [To THE PRESS] She 'yn't been aht these two years. [To his +mother, who has put up her hands to her head] Nao, never mind yer +'at. [To THE PRESS] She 'yn't got none! [Aloud] No West-End lydy +wears anyfink at all in the evenin'! + +MRS. L. 'Ow'm I lukin', Bob? + +LEMMY. First-clawss; yer've got a colour fit to toast by. We'll +show 'em yer've got a kick in yer. [He takes her arm] Little Aida, +ketch 'old o' the sensytions. + + [He indicates the trousers THE PRESS takes MRS. LEMMY'S other + arm.] + +MRS. L. [With an excited little laugh] Quite like a gell! + +And, smiling between her son and THE PRESS, she passes out; LITTLE +AIDA, with a fling of her heels and a wave of the trousers, follows. + + + CURTAIN + + + +ACT III + + An octagon ante-room of the hall at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S. + A shining room lighted by gold candelabra, with gold-curtained + pillars, through which the shining hall and a little of the + grand stairway are visible. A small table with a gold-coloured + cloth occupies the very centre of the room, which has a polished + parquet floor and high white walls. Gold-coloured doors on the + left. Opposite these doors a window with gold-coloured curtains + looks out on Park Lane. LADY WILLIAM standing restlessly + between the double doors and the arch which leads to the hall. + JAMES is stationary by the double doors, from behind which come + sounds of speech and applause. + +POULDER. [Entering from the hall] His Grace the Duke of Exeter, my +lady. + + [His GRACE enters. He is old, and youthful, with a high colour + and a short rough white beard. LADY WILLIAM advances to meet + him. POULDER stands by.] + +LADY W. Oh! Father, you ARE late. + +HIS G. Awful crowd in the streets, Nell. They've got a coffin-- +couldn't get by. + +LADY W. Coin? Whose? + +HIS G. The Government's I should think-no flowers, by request. I +say, have I got to speak? + +LADY W. Oh! no, dear. + +HIS G. H'm! That's unlucky. I've got it here. [He looks down his +cuff] Found something I said in 1914--just have done. + +LADY W. Oh! If you've got it--James, ask Lord William to come to me +for a moment. [JAMES vanishes through the door. To THE DUKE] Go in, +Grand-dad; they'll be so awfully pleased to see you. I'll tell Bill. + +HIS G. Where's Anne? + +LADY W. In bed, of course. + +HIS G. I got her this--rather nice? + + [He has taken from his breast-pocket one of those street toy-men + that jump head over heels on your hand; he puts it through its + paces.] + +LADY W. [Much interested] Oh! no, but how sweet! She'll simply +love it. + +POULDER. If I might suggest to Your Grace to take it in and operate +it. It's sweated, Your Grace. They-er-make them in those places. + +HIS G. By Jove! D'you know the price, Poulder? + +POULDER. [Interrogatively] A penny, is it? Something paltry, Your +Grace! + +HIS G. Where's that woman who knows everything; Miss Munday? + +LADY W. Oh! She'll be in there, somewhere. + + [His GRACE moves on, and passes through the doors. The sound of + applause is heard.] + +POULDER. [Discreetly] would you care to see the bomb, my lady? + +LADY W. Of course--first quiet moment. + +POULDER. I'll bring it up, and have a watch put on it here, my lady. + + [LORD WILLIAM comes through the double doom followed by JAMES. + POULDER retires.] + +LORD W. Can't you come, Nell? + +LADY W. Oh! Bill, your Dad wants to speak. + +LORD W. The deuce he does--that's bad. + +LADY W. Yes, of course, but you must let him; he's found something +he said in 1914. + +LORD W. I knew it. That's what they'll say. Standing stock still, +while hell's on the jump around us. + +LADY W. Never mind that; it'll please him; and he's got a lovely +little sweated toy that turns head over heels at one penny. + +LORD W. H'm! Well, come on. + +LADY W. No, I must wait for stragglers. There's sure to be an +editor in a hurry. + +POULDER. [Announcing] Mis-ter Gold-rum! + +LADY W. [Sotto voce] And there he is! [She advances to meet a thin, +straggling man in eyeglasses, who is smiling absently] How good of +you! + +MR. G. Thanks awfully. I just er--and then I'm afraid I must--er-- +Things look very----Thanks----Thanks so much. + + [He straggles through the doors, and is enclosed by JAMES.] + +POULDER. Miss Mun-day. + +LORD W. There! I thought she was in--She really is the most +unexpected woman! How do you do? How awfully sweet of you! + +MISS M. [An elderly female schoolboy] How do you do? There's a +spiffing crowd. I believe things are really going Bolshy. How do +you do, Lord William? Have you got any of our people to show? I +told one or two, in case--they do so simply love an outing. + +JAMES. There are three old chips in the lobby, my Lord. + +LORD W. What? Oh! I say! Bring them in at once. Why--they're the +hub of the whole thing. + +JAMES. [Going] Very good, my Lord. + +LADY W. I am sorry. I'd no notion; and they're such dears always. + +MISS M. I must tell you what one of them said to me. I'd told him +not to use such bad language to his wife. "Don't you worry, Ma!" he +said, "I expert you can do a bit of that yourself!" + +LADY W. How awfully nice! It's SO like them. + +MISS M. Yes. They're wonderful. + +LORD W. I say, why do we always call them they? + +LADY W. [Puzzled] Well, why not? + +LORD W. THEY! + +MISS M. [Struck] Quite right, Lord William! Quite right! Another +species. They! I must remember that. THEY! [She passes on.] + +LADY W. [About to follow] Well, I don't see; aren't they? + +LORD W. Never mind, old girl; follow on. They'll come in with me. + + [MISS MUNDAY and LADY WILLIAM pass through the double doors.] + +POULDER. [Announcing] Some sweated workers, my Lord. + + [There enter a tall, thin, oldish woman; a short, thin, very + lame man, her husband; and a stoutish middle-aged woman with a + rolling eye and gait, all very poorly dressed, with lined and + heated faces.] + +LORD W. [Shaking hands] How d'you do! Delighted to see you all. +It's awfully good of you to have come. + +LAME M. Mr. and Mrs. Tomson. We 'ad some trouble to find it. You +see, I've never been in these parts. We 'ad to come in the oven; and +the bus-bloke put us dahn wrong. Are you the proprietor? + +LORD W. [Modestly] Yes, I--er-- + +LAME M. You've got a nice plyce. I says to the missis, I says: +"'E's got a nice plyce 'ere," I says; "there's room to turn rahnd." + +LORD W. Yes--shall we--? + +LAME M. An' Mrs. Annaway she says: "Shouldn't mind livin 'ere +meself," she says; "but it must cost'im a tidy penny," she says. + +LORD W. It does--it does; much too tidy. Shall we--? + +MRS. ANN. [Rolling her eye] I'm very pleased to 'ave come. I've +often said to 'em: "Any time you want me," I've said, "I'd be pleased +to come." + +LORD W. Not so pleased as we are to see you. + +MRS. ANN. I'm sure you're very kind. + +JAMES. [From the double doors, through which he has received a +message] Wanted for your speech, my Lord. + +LORD W. Oh! God! Poulder, bring these ladies and gentleman in, and +put them where everybody can--where they can see everybody, don't you +know. + + [He goes out hurriedly through the double doors.] + +LAME M. Is 'e a lord? + +POULDER. He is. Follow me. + + [He moves towards the doors, the three workers follow.] + +MRS. ANN. [Stopping before JAMES] You 'yn't one, I suppose? +[JAMES stirs no muscle.] + +POULDER. Now please. [He opens the doors. The Voice of LORD +WILLIAM speaking is heard] Pass in. + + [THE THREE WORKERS pass in, POULDER and JAMES follow them. The + doors are not closed, and through this aperture comes the voice + of LORD WILLIAM, punctuated and supported by decorous applause.] + + [LITTLE ANNE runs in, and listens at the window to the confused + and distant murmurs of a crowd.] + +VOICE OF LORD W. We propose to move for a further advance in the +chain-making and--er--er--match-box industries. [Applause.] + + [LITTLE ANNE runs across to the door, to listen.] + +[On rising voice] I would conclude with some general remarks. +Ladies and gentlemen, the great natural, but--er--artificial +expansion which trade experienced the first years after the war has-- +er--collapsed. These are hard times. We who are fortunate feel more +than ever--er--responsible--[He stammers, loses the thread of his +thoughts.]--[Applause]--er--responsible--[The thread still eludes +him]--er---- + +L. ANNE. [Poignantly] Oh, Daddy! + +LORD W. [Desperately] In fact--er--you know how--er--responsible we +feel. + +L. ANNE. Hooray! [Applause.] + + [There float in through the windows the hoarse and distant + sounds of the Marseillaise, as sung by London voices.] + +LORD W. There is a feeling in the air--that I for one should say +deliberately was--er--a feeling in the air--er--a feeling in the +air---- + +L. ANNE. [Agonised] Oh, Daddy! Stop! + + [Jane enters, and closes the door behind him. JAMES. Look + here! 'Ave I got to report you to Miss Stokes?] + +L. ANNE. No-o-o! + +JAMES. Well, I'm goin' to. + +L. ANNE. Oh, James, be a friend to me! I've seen nothing yet. + +JAMES. No; but you've eaten a good bit, on the stairs. What price +that Peach Melba? + +L. ANNE. I can't go to bed till I've digested it can I? There's +such a lovely crowd in the street! + +JAMES. Lovely? Ho! + +L. ANNE. [Wheedling] James, you couldn't tell Miss Stokes! It +isn't in you, is it? + +JAMES. [Grinning] That's right. + +L. ANNE. So-I'll just get under here. [She gets under the table] +Do I show? + +JAMES. [Stooping] Not 'arf! + + [POULDER enters from the hall.] + +POULDER. What are you doin' there? + +JAMES. [Between him and the table--raising himself] Thinkin'. + + [POULDER purses his mouth to repress his feedings.] + +POULDER. My orders are to fetch the bomb up here for Lady William to +inspect. Take care no more writers stray in. + +JAMES. How shall I know 'em? + +POULDER. Well--either very bald or very hairy. + +JAMES. Right-o! [He goes.] + + [POULDER, with his back to the table, busies himself with the + set of his collar.] + +POULDER. [Addressing an imaginary audience--in a low but important +voice] The--ah--situation is seerious. It is up to us of the--ah-- +leisured classes---- + + [The face of LITTLE ANNE is poked out close to his legs, and + tilts upwards in wonder towards the bow of his waistcoat.] + +to--ah--keep the people down. The olla polloi are clamourin'---- + + [Miss STOKES appears from the hall, between the pillars.] + +Miss S. Poulder! + +POULDER. [Making a volte face towards the table] Miss? + +MISS S. Where is Anne? + +POULDER. [Vexed at the disturbance of his speech] Excuse me, Miss-- +to keep track of Miss Anne is fortunately no part of my dooties. + + [Miss S. She really is naughty.] + +POULDER. She is. If she was mine, I'd spank her. + + [The smiling face of LITTLE ANNE becomes visible again close to + his legs.] + +MISS S. Not a nice word. + +POULDER. No; but a pleasant haction. Miss Anne's the limit. In +fact, Lord and Lady William are much too kind 'earted all round. +Take these sweated workers; that class o' people are quite 'opeless. +Treatin' them as your equals, shakin 'ands with 'em, givin 'em tea-- +it only puffs 'em out. Leave it to the Church, I say. + +MISS S. The Church is too busy, Poulder. + +POULDER. Ah! That "Purity an' Future o' the Race Campaign." I'll +tell you what I thinks the danger o' that, Miss. So much purity that +there won't be a future race. [Expanding] Purity of 'eart's an +excellent thing, no doubt, but there's a want of nature about it. +Same with this Anti-Sweating. Unless you're anxious to come down, +you must not put the lower classes up. + +MISS S. I don't agree with you at all, Poulder. + +POULDER. Ah! You want it both ways, Miss. I should imagine you're +a Liberal. + +MISS S. [Horrified] Oh, no! I certainly am not. + +POULDER. Well, I judged from your takin' cocoa. Funny thing that, +about cocoa-how it still runs through the Liberal Party! It's +virtuous, I suppose. Wine, beer, tea, coffee-all of 'em vices. But +cocoa you might drink a gallon a day and annoy no one but yourself! +There's a lot o' deep things in life, Miss! + +Miss S. Quite so. But I must find Anne. + + [She recedes. ] + +POULDER. [Suavely] Well, I wish you every success; and I hope +you'll spank her. This modern education--there's no fruitiness in +it. + +L. ANNE. [From under the table] Poulder, are you virtuous? + +POULDER. [Jumping] Good Ged! + +L. ANNE. D'you mind my asking? I promised James I would. + +POULDER. Miss Anne, come out! + + [The four footmen appear in the hall, HENRY carrying the wine + cooler.] + +JAMES. Form fours-by your right-quick march! + + [They enter, marching down right of table.] + +Right incline--Mark time! Left turn! 'Alt! 'Enry, set the bomb! +Stand easy! + + [HENRY places the wine cooler on the table and covers it with a + blue embroidered Chinese mat, which has occupied the centre of + the tablecloth.] + +POULDER. Ah! You will 'ave your game! Thomas, take the door there! +James, the 'all! Admit titles an' bishops. No literary or Labour +people. Charles and 'Enry, 'op it and 'ang about! + + [CHARLES and HENRY go out, the other too move to their + stations.] + + [POULDER, stands by the table looking at the covered bomb. The + hoarse and distant sounds of the Marseillaise float in again + from Park Lane.] + +[Moved by some deep feeling] And this house an 'orspital in the war! +I ask you--what was the good of all our sacrifices for the country? +No town 'ouse for four seasons--rustygettin' in the shires, not a +soul but two boys under me. Lord William at the front, Lady William +at the back. And all for this! [He points sadly at the cooler] It +comes of meddlin' on the Continent. I had my prognostications at the +time. [To JAMES] You remember my sayin' to you just before you +joined up: "Mark my words--we shall see eight per cent. for our money +before this is over!" + +JAMES. [Sepulchrally] I see the eight per cent., but not the money. + +POULDER. Hark at that! + + [The sounds of the Marseillaise grow louder. He shakes his + head.] + +I'd read the Riot Act. They'll be lootin' this house next! + +JAMES. We'll put up a fight over your body: "Bartholomew Poulder, +faithful unto death!" Have you insured your life? + +POULDER. Against a revolution? + +JAMES. Act o' God! Why not? + +POULDER. It's not an act o' God. + +JAMES. It is; and I sympathise with it. + +POULDER. You--what? + +JAMES. I do--only--hands off the gov'nor. + +POULDER. Oh! Really! Well, that's something. I'm glad to see you +stand behind him, at all events. + +JAMES. I stand in front of 'im when the scrap begins! + +POULDER. Do you insinuate that my heart's not in the right place? + +JAMES. Well, look at it! It's been creepin' down ever since I knew +you. Talk of your sacrifices in the war--they put you on your +honour, and you got stout on it. Rations--not 'arf. + +POULDER. [Staring at him] For independence, I've never seen your +equal, James. You might be an Australian. + +JAMES. [Suavely] Keep a civil tongue, or I'll throw you to the +crowd! [He comes forward to the table] Shall I tell you why I +favour the gov'nor? Because, with all his pomp, he's a gentleman, as +much as I am. Never asks you to do what he wouldn't do himself. +What's more, he never comes it over you. If you get drunk, or--well, +you understand me, Poulder--he'll just say: "Yes, yes; I know, +James!" till he makes you feel he's done it himself. [Sinking his +voice mysteriously] I've had experience with him, in the war and out. +Why he didn't even hate the Huns, not as he ought. I tell you he's +no Christian. + +POULDER. Well, for irreverence----! + +JAMES. [Obstinately] And he'll never be. He's got too soft a +heart. + +L. ANNE. [Beneath the table-shrilly] Hurrah! + +POULDER. [Jumping] Come out, Miss Anne! + +JAMES. Let 'er alone! + +POULDER. In there, under the bomb? + +JAMES. [Contemptuously] Silly ass! You should take 'em lying down! + +POULDER. Look here, James! I can't go on in this revolutionary +spirit; either you or I resign. + +JAMES. Crisis in the Cabinet! + +POULDER. I give you your marchin' orders. + +JAMES. [Ineffably] What's that you give me? + +POULDER. Thomas, remove James! + + [THOMAS grins.] + +L. ANNE. [Who, with open mouth, has crept out to see the fun] Oh! +Do remove James, Thomas! + +POULDER. Go on, Thomas. + + [THOMAS takes one step towards JAMES, who lays a hand on the + Chinese mat covering the bomb.] + +JAMES. [Grimly] If I lose control of meself. + +L. ANNE. [Clapping her hands] Oh! James! Do lose control! Then I +shall see it go off! + +JAMES. [To POULDER] Well, I'll merely empty the pail over you! + +POULDER. This is not becomin'! + + [He walks out into the hall.] + +JAMES. Another strategic victory! What a Boche he'd have made. As +you were, Tommy! + + [THOMAS returns to the door. The sound of prolonged applause + cornea from within.] + +That's a bishop. + +L. ANNE. Why? + +JAMES. By the way he's drawin'. It's the fine fightin' spirit in +'em. They were the backbone o' the war. I see there's a bit o' the +old stuff left in you, Tommy. + +L. ANNE. [Scrutinizing the widely--grinning THOM] Where? Is it in +his mouth? + +JAMES. You've still got a sense of your superiors. Didn't you +notice how you moved to Poulder's orders, me boy; an' when he was +gone, to mine? + +L. ANNE. [To THOMAS] March! + + [The grinning THOMAS remains immovable.] + +He doesn't, James! + +JAMES. Look here, Miss Anne--your lights ought to be out before ten. +Close in, Tommy! + + [He and THOMAS move towards her.] + +L. ANNE. [Dodging] Oh, no! Oh, no! Look! + + [The footmen stop and turn. There between the pillars, stands + LITTLE AIDA with the trousers, her face brilliant With + surprise.] + +JAMES. Good Lord! What's this? + + [Seeing L. ANNE, LITTLE AIDA approaches, fascinated, and the two + children sniff at each other as it were like two little dogs + walking round and round.] + +L. ANNE. [Suddenly] My name's Anne; what's yours? + +L. AIDA. Aida. + +L. ANNE. Are you lost? + +L. AIDA. Nao. + +L. ANNE. Are those trousers? + +L. AIDA. Yus. + +L. Arms. Whose? + +L. AIDA. Mrs. Lemmy's. + +L. ANNE. Does she wear them? + + [LITTLE AIDA smiles brilliantly.] + +L. AIDA. Nao. She sews 'em. + +L. ANNE. [Touching the trousers] They are hard. James's are much +softer; aren't they, James? [JAMES deigns no reply] What shall we +do? Would you like to see my bedroom? + +L. AIDA. [With a hop] Aoh, yus! + +JAMES. No. + +L. ANNE. Why not? + +JAMES. Have some sense of what's fittin'. + +L. ANNE. Why isn't it fittin'? [To LITTLE AIDA] Do you like me? + +L. AIDA. Yus-s. + +L. ANNE. So do I. Come on! + + [She takes LITTLE AIDA'S hand.] + +JAMES. [Between the pillars] Tommy, ketch 'em! + + [THOMAS retains them by the skirts.] + +L. ANNE. [Feigning indifference] All right, then! [To LITTLE AIDA] +Have you ever seen a bomb? + +L. AIDA. Nao. + +L. ANNE. [Going to the table and lifting a corner of the cover] +Look! + +L. AIDA. [Looking] What's it for? + +L. ANNE. To blow up this house. + +L. AIDA. I daon't fink! + +L. ANNE. Why not? + +L. AIDA. It's a beautiful big 'Ouse. + +L. ANNE. That's why. Isn't it, James? + +L. AIDA. You give the fing to me; I'll blow up our 'ouse--it's an +ugly little 'ouse. + +L. ANNE [Struck] Let's all blow up our own; then we can start fair. +Daddy would like that. + +L. AIDA. Yus. [Suddenly brilliant] I've 'ad a ride in a taxi, an' +we're goin' 'ome in it agyne! + +L. ANNE. Were you sick? + +LITTLE AIDA. [Brilliant] Nao. + +L. ANNE I was; when I first went in one, but I was quite young then. +James, could you get her a Peche Melba? There was one. + +JAMES. No. + +L. ANNE. Have you seen the revolution? + +L. AIDA. Wot's that? + +L. ANNE. It's made of people. + +L. AIDA. I've seen the corfin, it's myde o' wood. + +L. ANNE. Do you hate the rich? + +L. AIDA. [Ineffably] Nao. I hates the poor. + +L. ANNE. Why? + +L. AIDA. 'Cos they 'yn't got nuffin'. + +L. ANNE. I love the poor. They're such dears. + +L. AIDA. [Shaking her head with a broad smile] Nao. + +L. ANNE. Why not? + +L. AIDA. I'd tyke and lose the lot, I would. + +L. ANNE. Where? + +L. AIDA. In the water. + +L. ANNE. Like puppies? + +L. AIDA. Yus. + +L. ANNE. Why? + +L. AIDA. Then I'd be shut of 'em. + +L. ANNE. [Puzzled] Oh! + + [The voice of THE PRESS is heard in the hall. "Where's the + little girl?"] + +JAMES. That's you. Come 'ere! + + [He puts a hand behind LITTLE AIDA'S back and propels her + towards the hall. THE PRESS enters with old MRS. LEMMY.] + +PRESS. Oh! Here she is, major domo. I'm going to take this old +lady to the meeting; they want her on the platform. Look after our +friend, Mr. Lemmy here; Lord William wants to see him presently. + +L. ANNE. [In an awed whisper] James, it's the little blighter! + + [She dives again under the table. LEMMY enters.] + +LEMMY. 'Ere! 'Arf a mo'! Yer said yer'd drop me at my plyce. +Well, I tell yer candid--this 'yn't my plyce + +PRESS. That's all right, Mr. Lemmy. [He grins] They'll make you +wonderfully comfortable, won't you, major domo? + + [He passes on through the room, to the door, ushering old MRS. + LEMMY and LITTLE AIDA.] + + [POULDER blocks LEMMY'S way, with CHARLES and HENRY behind him.] + +POULDER. James, watch it; I'll report. + + [He moves away, following THE PRESS through the door. JAMES + between table and window. THOMAS has gone to the door. HENRY + and CHARLES remain at the entrances to the hall. LEMMY looks + dubiously around, his cockney assurrance gradually returns.] + +LEMMY. I think I knows the gas 'ere. This is where I came to-dy, +'yn't it? Excuse my hesitytion--these little 'ouses IS so much the +syme. + +JAMES. [Gloomily] They are! + +LEMMY. [Looking at the four immovable footmen, till he concentrates +on JAMES] Ah! I 'ad a word wiv you, 'adn't I? You're the four +conscientious ones wot's wyin' on your gov'nor's chest. 'Twas you I +spoke to, wasn't it? [His eyes travel over them again] Ye're so +monotonous. Well, ye're busy now, I see. I won't wyste yer time. + + [He turns towards the hall, but CHARLES and HENRY bar the way in + silence.] + + [Skidding a little, and regarding the four immovables once more] + +I never see such pytient men? Compared wiv yer, mountains is +restless. + + [He goes to the table. JAMES watches him. ANNE barks from + underneath.] + +[Skidding again] Why! There's a dawg under there. [Noting the grin +on THOMAS'S face] Glad it amooses yer. Yer want it, daon't yer, wiv +a fyce like that? Is this a ply wivaht words? 'Ave I got into the +movies by mistyke? Turn aht, an' let's 'ave six penn'orth o' +darkness. + +L. ANNE. [From beneath the cable] No, no! Not dark! + +LEMMY. [Musingly] The dawg talks anywy. Come aht, Fido! + + [LITTLE ANNE emerges, and regards him with burning curiosity.] + +I sy: Is this the lytest fashion o' receivin' guests? + +L. ANNE. Mother always wants people to feel at home. What shall we +do? Would you like to hear the speeches? Thomas, open the door a +little, do! + +JAMES. 'Umour 'er a couple o' inches, Tommy! + + [THOMAS draws the door back stealthily an inch or so.] + +L. ANNE. [After applying her eye-in a loud whisper] There's the old +lady. Daddy's looking at her trousers. Listen! + + [For MRS. LEMMY'S voice is floating faintly through: "I putt in + the buttonholes, I stretches the flies; I 'ems the bottoms; I + lines the crutch; I putt on this bindin'; I sews on the buttons; + I presses the seams--Tuppence three farthin's the pair."] + +LEMMY. [In a hoarse whisper] That's it, old lydy: give it 'em! + +L. ANNE. Listen! + +VOICE OF LORD W. We are indebted to our friends the Press for giving +us the pleasure--er--pleasure of hearing from her own lips--the +pleasure---- + +L. ANNE. Oh! Daddy! + + [THOMAS abruptly closes the doors.] + +LEMMY. [To ANNE] Now yer've done it. See wot comes o' bein' +impytient. We was just gettin' to the marrer. + +L. ANNE. What can we do for you now? + +LEMMY. [Pointing to ANNE, and addressing JAMES] Wot is this one, +anywy? + +JAMES. [Sepulchrally] Daughter o' the house. + +LEMMY. Is she insured agynst 'er own curiosity? + +L. ANNE. Why? + +LEMMY. As I daon't believe in a life beyond the gryve, I might be +tempted to send yer there. + +L. ANNE. What is the gryve? + +LEMMY. Where little gells goes to. + +L. ANNE. Oh, when? + +LEMMY. [Pretending to look at a match, which is not there] Well, I +dunno if I've got time to finish yer this minute. Sy to-mower at. +'arf past. + +L. ANNE. Half past what? + +LEMMY. [Despairingly] 'Arf past wot! + + [The sound of applause is heard.] + +JAMES. That's 'is Grace. 'E's gettin' wickets, too. + + [POULDER entering from the door.] + +POULDER. Lord William is slippin' in. + + [He makes a cabalistic sign with his head. Jeers crosses to the + door. LEMMY looks dubiously at POULDER.] + +LEMMY. [Suddenly--as to himself] Wot oh! I am the portly one! + +POULDER. [Severely] Any such allusion aggeravates your offence. + +LEMMY. Oh, ah! Look 'ere, it was a corked bottle. Now, tyke care, +tyke care, 'aughty! Daon't curl yer lip! I shall myke a clean +breast o' my betryal when the time comes! + + [There is a alight movement of the door. ANNE makes a dive + towards the table but is arrested by POULDER grasping her + waistband. LORD WILLIAM slips in, followed by THE PRESS, on + whom JAMES and THOMAS close the door too soon.] + +HALF OF THE PRESS. [Indignantly] Look out! + +JAMES. Do you want him in or out, me Lord? + +LEMMY. I sy, you've divided the Press; 'e was unanimous. + + [The FOOTMEN let THE PRESS through.] + +LORD W. [To THE PRESS] I'm so sorry. + +LEMMY. Would yer like me to see to 'is gas? + +LORD W. So you're my friend of the cellars? + +LEMMY. [Uneasy] I daon't deny it. + + [POULDER begins removing LITTLE ANNE.] + +L. ANNE. Let me stay, Daddy; I haven't seen anything yet! If I go, +I shall only have to come down again when they loot the house. +Listen! + + [The hoarse strains of the Marseillaise are again heard from the + distance.] + +LORD W. [Blandly] Take her up, Poulder! + +L. ANNE. Well, I'm coming down again--and next time I shan't have +any clothes on, you know. + + [They vanish between the pillars. LORD WILLIAM makes a sign of + dismissal. The FOOTMAN file out.] + +LEMMY. [Admiringly] Luv'ly pyces! + +LORD W. [Pleasantly] Now then; let's have our talk, Mr.---- + +LEMMY. Lemmy. + +PRESS. [Who has slipped his note-book out] "Bombed and Bomber face +to face----" + +LEMMY. [Uneasy] I didn't come 'ere agyne on me own, yer know. The +Press betryed me. + +LORD W. Is that old lady your mother? + +LEMMY. The syme. I tell yer stryte, it was for 'er I took that old +bottle o' port. It was orful old. + +LORD W. Ah! Port? Probably the '83. Hope you both enjoyed it. + +LEMMY. So far-yus. Muvver'll suffer a bit tomower, I expect. + +LORD W. I should like to do something for your mother, if you'll +allow me. + +LEMMY. Oh! I'll allow yer. But I dunno wot she'll sy. + +LORD W. I can see she's a fine independent old lady! But suppose +you were to pay her ten bob a week, and keep my name out of it? + +LEMMY. Well, that's one wy o' YOU doin' somefink, 'yn't it? + +LORD W. I giving you the money, of course. + +PRESS. [Writing] "Lord William, with kingly generosity----" + +LEMMY. [Drawing attention to THE PRESS with his thumb] I sy-- +I daon't mind, meself--if you daon't---- + +LORD W. He won't write anything to annoy me. + +PRESS. This is the big thing, Lord William; it'll get the public +bang in the throat. + +LEMMY. [Confidentially] Bit dyngerous, 'yn't it? trustin' the +Press? Their right 'ands never knows wot their left 'ands is +writin'. [To THE PRESS] 'Yn't that true, speakin' as a man? + +PRESS. Mr. Lemmy, even the Press is capable of gratitude. + +LEMMY. Is it? I should ha' thought it was too important for a +little thing like that. [To LORD WILLIAM] But ye're quite right; we +couldn't do wivaht the Press--there wouldn't be no distress, no +coffin, no revolution--'cos nobody'd know nuffin' abaht it. Why! +There wouldn't be no life at all on Earf in these dyes, wivaht the +Press! It's them wot says: "Let there be Light--an' there is Light." + +LORD W. Umm! That's rather a new thought to me. [Writes on his +cuff.] + +LEMMY. But abaht Muvver, I'll tell yer 'ow we can arrynge. You send +'er the ten bob a week wivaht syin' anyfink, an' she'll fink it comes +from Gawd or the Gover'ment yer cawn't tell one from t'other in +Befnal Green. + +LORD W. All right; we'll' do that. + +LEMMY. Will yer reely? I'd like to shyke yer 'and. + + [LORD WILLIAM puts out his hand, which LEMMY grasps.] + +PRESS. [Writing] "The heartbeat of humanity was in that grasp +between the son of toil and the son of leisure." + +LEMMY. [Already ashamed of his emotion] 'Ere, 'arf a mo'! Which is +which? Daon't forget I'm aht o' wori; Lord William, if that's 'is +nyme, is workin 'ard at 'is Anti-Sweats! Wish I could get a job like +vat--jist suit me! + +LORD W. That hits hard, Mr. Lemmy. + +LEMMY. Daon't worry! Yer cawn't 'elp bein' born in the purple! + +LORD W. Ah! Tell me, what would you do in my place? + +LEMMY. Why--as the nobleman said in 'is well-known wy: "Sit in me +Club winder an' watch it ryne on the dam people!" That's if I was a +average nobleman! If I was a bit more noble, I might be tempted to +come the kind'earted on twenty thou' a year. Some prefers yachts, or +ryce 'orses. But philanthropy on the 'ole is syfer, in these dyes. + +LORD W. So you think one takes to it as a sort of insurance, Mr. +Lemmy? Is that quite fair? + +LEMMY. Well, we've all got a weakness towards bein' kind, somewhere +abaht us. But the moment wealf comes in, we 'yn't wot I call single- +'earted. If yer went into the foundytions of your wealf--would yer +feel like 'avin' any? It all comes from uvver people's 'ard, +unpleasant lybour--it's all built on Muvver as yer might sy. An' if +yer daon't get rid o' some of it in bein' kind--yer daon't feel syfe +nor comfy. + +LORD W. [Twisting his moustache] Your philosophy is very pessimistic. + +LEMMY. Well, I calls meself an optimist; I sees the worst of +everyfink. Never disappynted, can afford to 'ave me smile under the +blackest sky. When deaf is squeezin' of me windpipe, I shall 'ave a +laugh in it! Fact is, if yer've 'ad to do wiv gas an' water pipes, +yer can fyce anyfing. [The distant Marseillaise blares up] 'Ark at +the revolution! + +LORD W. [Rather desperately] I know--hunger and all the rest of it! +And here am I, a rich man, and don't know what the deuce to do. + +LEMMY. Well, I'll tell yer. Throw yer cellars open, an' while the +populyce is gettin' drunk, sell all yer 'ave an' go an' live in +Ireland; they've got the millennium chronic over there. + + [LORD WILLIAM utters a short, vexed laugh, and begins to walk + about.] + +That's speakin' as a practical man. Speakin' as a synt "Bruvvers, +all I 'ave is yours. To-morrer I'm goin' dahn to the Lybour Exchynge +to git put on the wytin' list, syme as you!" + +LORD W. But, d---it, man, there we should be, all together! Would +that help? + +LEMMY. Nao; but it'd syve a lot o' blood. + + [LORD WILLIAM stops abruptly, and looks first at LEMMY, then at + the cooler, still cohered with the Chinese mat.] + +Yer thought the Englishman could be taught to shed blood wiv syfety. +Not 'im! Once yer git 'im into an 'abit, yer cawn't git 'im out of +it agyne. 'E'll go on sheddin' blood mechanical--Conservative by +nyture. An' 'e won't myke nuffin' o' yours. Not even the Press wiv +'is 'oneyed words'll sty 'is 'and. + +LORD W. And what do you suggest we could have done, to avoid +trouble? + +LEMMY. [Warming to his theme] I'll tell yer. If all you wealfy +nobs wiv kepitel 'ad come it kind from the start after the war yer'd +never 'a been 'earin' the Marseillaisy naow. Lord! 'Ow you did talk +abaht Unity and a noo spirit in the Country. Noo spirit! Why, soon +as ever there was no dynger from outside, yer stawted to myke it +inside, wiv an iron'and. Naow, you've been in the war an' it's given +yer a feelin' 'eart; but most of the nobs wiv kepitel was too old or +too important to fight. They weren't born agyne. So naow that bad +times is come, we're 'owlin' for their blood. + +LORD W. I quite agree; I quite agree. I've often said much the same +thing. + +LEMMY. Voice cryin' in the wilderness--I daon't sy we was yngels-- +there was faults on bofe sides. [He looks at THE PRESS] The Press +could ha' helped yer a lot. Shall I tell yer wot the Press did? +"It's vital," said the Press, "that the country should be united, or +it will never recover." Nao strikes, nao 'omen nature, nao nuffink. +Kepitel an' Lybour like the Siamese twins. And, fust dispute that +come along, the Press orfs wiv its coat an' goes at it bald'eaded. +An' wot abaht since? Sich a riot o' nymes called, in Press--and +Pawlyement. Unpatriotic an' outrygeous demands o' lybour. Blood- +suckin' tyranny o' Kepitel; thieves an' dawgs an 'owlin Jackybines-- +gents throwin' books at each other; all the resources of edjucytion +exhausted! If I'd bin Prime Minister I'd 'ave 'ad the Press's gas +cut 'orf at the meter. Puffect liberty, of course, nao Censorship; +just sy wot yer like--an' never be 'eard of no more. + + [Turning suddenly to THE PRESS, who has been scribbling in pace + with this harangue, and now has developed a touch of writer's + cramp.] + +Why! 'Is 'end's out o' breath! Fink o' vet! + +LORD W. Great tribute to your eloquence, Mr. Lemmy! + + [A sudden stir of applause and scraping of chairs is heard; the + meeting is evidently breaking up. LADY WILLIAM comes in, + followed by MRS. LEMMY with her trousers, and LITTLE AIDA. + LEMMY stares fixedly at this sudden, radiant apparition. His + gaze becomes as that of a rabbit regarding a snake. And + suddenly he puts up his hand and wipes his brow.] + + [LADY WILLIAM, going to the table, lifts one end of the Chinese + mat, and looks at LEMMY. Then she turns to LORD WILLIAM.] + +LADY W. Bill! + +LEMMY. [To his mother--in a hoarse whisper] She calls 'im Bill. +'Ow! 'Yn't she IT? + +LADY W. [Apart] Have you--spoken to him? + + [LORD WILLIAM shakes his head.] + +Not? What have you been saying, then? + +LORD W. Nothing, he's talked all the time. + +LADY W. [Very low] What a little caution! + +LORD W. Steady, old girl! He's got his eye on you! + + [LADY WILLIAM looks at LEMMY, whose eyes are still fixed on + her.] + +LADY W. [With resolution] Well, I'm going to tackle him. + + [She moves towards LEMMY, who again wipes his brow, and wrings + out his hand.] + +MRS. LEMMY. Don't 'ee du that, Bob. Yu must forgive'im, Ma'am; it's +'is admiration. 'E was always one for the ladies, and he'm not used +to seein' so much of 'em. + +LADY W. Don't you think you owe us an explanation? + +MRS. LEMMY. Speak up, Bob. + + [But LEMMY only shifts his feet.] + +My gudeness! 'E've a-lost 'is tongue. I never knu that 'appen to 'e +before. + +LORD W. [Trying to break the embarrassment] No ill-feeling, you +know, Lemmy. + + [But LEMMY still only rolls his eyes.] + +LADY W. Don't you think it was rather--inconsiderate of you? + +LEMMY. Muvver, tyke me aht, I'm feelin' fynte! + + [Spurts of the Marseillaise and the mutter of the crowd have + been coming nearer; and suddenly a knocking is heard. POULDER + and JAMES appear between the pillars.] + +POULDER. The populace, me Lord! + +LADY W. What! + +LORD W. Where've you put 'em, Poulder? + +POULDER. They've put theirselves in the portico, me Lord. + +LORD W. [Suddenly wiping his brow] Phew! I say, this is awful, +Nell! Two speeches in one evening. Nothing else for it, I suppose. +Open the window, Poulder! + +POULDER. [Crossing to the window] We are prepared for any +sacrifice, me Lord. + + [He opens the window.] + +PRESS. [Writing furiously] "Lady William stood like a statue at +bay." + +LORD W. Got one of those lozenges on you, Nell? + + [But LADY WILLIAM has almost nothing on her.] + +LEMMY. [Producing a paper from his pocket] 'Ave one o' my gum +drops? + + [He passes it to LORD WILLIAM.] + +LORD W. [Unable to refuse, takes a large, flat gum drop from the +paper, and looks at it in embarrassment.] Ah! thanks! Thanks +awfully! + + [LEMMY turns to LITTLE AIDA, and puts a gum drop in her mouth. + A burst of murmurs from the crowd.] + +JAMES. [Towering above the wine cooler] If they get saucy, me Lord, +I can always give 'em their own back. + +LORD W. Steady, James; steady! + + [He puts the gum drop absently in his mouth, and turns up to the + open window.] + +VOICE. [Outside] 'Ere they are--the bally plutocrats. + + [Voices in chorus: "Bread! Bread!"] + +LORD W. Poulder, go and tell the chef to send out anything there is +in the house--nicely, as if it came from nowhere in particular. + +POULDER. Very good, me Lord. [Sotto voce] Any wine? If I might +suggest--German--'ock? + +LORD W. What you like. + +POULDER. Very good, me Lord. [He goes.] + +LORD W. I say, dash it, Nell, my teeth are stuck! [He works his +finger in his mouth.] + +LADY W. Take it out, darling. + +LORD W. [Taking out the gum drop and looking at it] What the deuce +did I put it in for? + +PRESS. ['Writing] "With inimitable coolness Lord William prepared +to address the crowd." + + [Voices in chorea: "Bread! Bread!"] + +LORD W. Stand by to prompt, old girl. Now for it. This ghastly gum +drop! + + [LORD WILLIAM takes it from his agitated hand, and flips it + through the window.] + +VOICE. Dahn with the aristo----[Chokes.] + +LADY W. Oh! Bill----oh! It's gone into a mouth! + +LORD W. Good God! + +VOICE. Wet's this? Throwin' things? Mind aht, or we'll smash yer +winders! + + [As the voices in chorus chant: "Bread! Bread!" LITTLE ANNE, + night-gowned, darts in from the hall. She is followed by MISS + STOKES. They stand listening.] + +LORD W. [To the Crowd] My friends, you've come to the wrong shop. +There's nobody in London more sympathetic with you. [The crowd +laughs hoarsely.] [Whispering] Look out, old girl; they can see your +shoulders. [LORD WILLIAM moves back a step.] If I were a speaker, I +could make you feel---- + +VOICE. Look at his white weskit! Blood-suckers--fattened on the +people! + + [JAMES dives his hand at the wine cooler.] + +LORD W. I've always said the Government ought to take immediate +steps---- + +VOICE. To shoot us dahn. + +LORD W. Not a bit. To relieve the--er---- + +LADY W. [Prompting] Distress. + +LADY W. Distress, and ensure--er--ensure + +LADY W. [Prompting] Quiet. + +LORD W. [To her] No, no. To ensure--ensure---- + +L. ANNE. [Agonized] Oh, Daddy! + +VOICE. 'E wants to syve 'is dirty great 'ouse. + +LORD W. [Roused] D----if I do! + + [Rude and hoarse laughter from the crowd.] + +JAMES. [With fury] Me Lord, let me blow 'em to glory! + + [He raises the cooler and advances towards the window.] + +LORD W. [Turning sharply on him] Drop it, James; drop it! + +PRESS. [Jumping] No, no; don't drop it! + + [JAMES retires crestfallen to the table, where he replaces the + cooler.] + +LORD W. [Catching hold of his bit] Look here, I must have fought +alongside some of you fellows in the war. Weren't we jolly well like +brothers? + +A VOICE. Not so much bloomin' "Kamerad"; hand over yer 'Ouse. + +LORD W. I was born with this beastly great house, and money, and +goodness knows what other entanglements--a wife and family---- + +VOICE. Born with a wife and family! + + [Jeers and laughter.] + +LORD W. I feel we're all in the same boat, and I want to pull my +weight. If you can show me the way, I'll take it fast enough. + +A DEEP VOICE. Step dahn then, an' we'll step up. + +ANOTHER VOICE. 'Ear, 'Ear! + + [A fierce little cheer.] + +LORD W. [To LADY WILLIAM--in despair] By George! I can't get in +anywhere! + +LADY W. [Calmly] Then shut the window, Bill. + +LEMMY. [Who has been moving towards them slowly] Lemme sy a word to +'em. + + [All stare at him. LEMMY approaches the window, followed by + LITTLE AIDA. POULDER re-enters with the three other footmen.] + +[At the window] Cheerio! Cockies! + + [The silence of surprise falls on the crowd.] + +I'm one of yer. Gas an' water I am. Got more grievances an' out of +employment than any of yer. I want to see their blood flow, syme as +you. + +PRESS. [writing] "Born orator--ready cockney wit--saves situation." + +LEMMY. Wot I sy is: Dahn wiv the country, dahn wiv everyfing. Begin +agyne from the foundytions. [Nodding his head back at the room] But +we've got to keep one or two o' these 'ere under glawss, to show our +future generytions. An' this one is 'armless. His pipes is sahnd, +'is 'eart is good; 'is 'ead is not strong. Is 'ouse will myke a +charmin' palace o' varieties where our children can come an' see 'ow +they did it in the good old dyes. Yer never see rich waxworks as 'is +butler and 'is four conscientious khaki footmen. Why--wot dyer think +'e 'as 'em for--fear they might be out o'-works like you an' me. +Nao! Keep this one; 'e's a Flower. 'Arf a mo'! I'll show yer my +Muvver. Come 'ere, old lydy; and bring yer trahsers. [MRS. LEMMY +comes forward to the window] Tell abaht yer speech to the meetin'. + +MRS. LEMMY. [Bridling] Oh dear! Well, I cam' in with me trousers, +an' they putt me up on the pedestory at once, so I tole 'em. +[Holding up the trousers] "I putt in the button'oles, I stretches +the flies; I lines the crutch; I putt on this bindin', I presses the +seams--Tuppence three farthin's a pair." + + [A groan from tote crowd, ] + +LEMMY. [Showing her off] Seventy-seven! Wot's 'er income? Twelve +bob a week; seven from the Gover'ment an' five from the sweat of 'er +brow. Look at 'er! 'Yn't she a tight old dear to keep it goin'! No +workus for 'er, nao fear! The gryve rather! + + [Murmurs from the crowd, at Whom MRS. LEMMY is blandly smiling.] + +You cawn't git below 'er--impossible! She's the foundytions of the +country--an' rocky 'yn't the word for 'em. Worked 'ard all 'er life, +brought up a family and buried 'em on it. Twelve bob a week, an' +given when 'er fingers goes, which is very near. Well, naow, this +torf 'ere comes to me an' says: "I'd like to do somefin' for yer +muvver. 'Ow's ten bob a week?" 'e says. Naobody arst 'im--quite on +'is own. That's the sort 'e is. [Sinking his voice confidentially] +Sorft. You bring yer muvvers 'ere, 'e'll do the syme for them. I +giv yer the 'int. + +VOICE. [From the crowd] What's 'is nyme? + +LEMMY. They calls 'im Bill. + +VOICE. Bill What? + +L. ANNE. Dromondy. + +LADY W. Anne! + +LEMMY. Dromedary 'is nyme is. + +VOICE. [From the crowd] Three cheers for Bill Dromedary. + +LEMMY. I sy, there's veal an' 'am, an' pork wine at the back for +them as wants it; I 'eard the word passed. An' look 'ere, if yer +want a flag for the revolution, tyke muvver's trahsers an' tie 'em to +the corfin. Yer cawn't 'ave no more inspirin' banner. Ketch! [He +throws the trousers out] Give Bill a double-barrel fast, to show +there's no ill-feelin'. Ip, 'ip! + + [The crowd cheers, then slowly passes away, singing at a hoarse + version of the Marseillaise, till all that is heard is a faint + murmuring and a distant barrel-organ playing the same tune.] + +PRESS. [Writing] "And far up in the clear summer air the larks were +singing." + +LORD W. [Passing his heard over his hair, and blinking his eyes] +James! Ready? + +JAMES. Me Lord! + +L. ANNE. Daddy! + +LADY W. [Taking his arm] Bill! It's all right, old man--all right! + +LORD W. [Blinking] Those infernal larks! Thought we were on the +Somme again! Ah! Mr. Lemmy, [Still rather dreamy] no end obliged +to you; you're so decent. Now, why did you want to blow us up before +dinner? + +LEMMY. Blow yer up? [Passing his hand over his hair in travesty] +"Is it a dream? Then wykin' would be pyne." + +MRS. LEMMY. Bo-ob! Not so saucy, my boy! + +LEMMY. Blow yet up? Wot abaht it? + +LADY W. [Indicating the bomb] This, Mr. Lemmy! + + [LEMMY looks at it, and his eyes roll and goggle.] + +LORD W. Come, all's forgiven! But why did you? + +LEMMY. Orl right! I'm goin' to tyke it awy; it'd a-been a bit +ork'ard for me. I'll want it to-mower. + +LORD W. What! To leave somewhere else? + +LEMMY. 'Yus, of course! + +LORD W. No, no; dash it! Tell us what's it filled with? + +LEMMY. Filled wiv? Nuffin'. Wot did yet expect? Toof-pahder? +It's got a bit o' my lead soldered on to it. That's why it's 'eavy! + +LORD W. But what is it? + +LEMMY. Wot is it? [His eyes are fearfully fixed on LADY WILLIAM] I +fought everybody knew 'em. + +LADY W. Mr. Lemmy, you must clear this up, please. + +LEMMY. [TO LORD WILLIAM, With his eyes still held On LADY WILLIAM-- +mysteriously] Wiv lydies present? 'Adn't I better tell the Press? + +LORD W. All right; tell someone--anyone! + + [LEMMY goes down to THE PRESS, who is reading over his last + note. Everyone watches and listens with the utmost discretion, + while he whispers into the ear of THE PRESS; who shakes his head + violently.] + +PRESS. No, no; it's too horrible. It destroys my whole---- + +LEMMY. Well, I tell yer it is. + + [Whispers again violently.] + +PRESS. No, no; I can't have it. All my article! All my article! +It can't be--no---- + +LEMMY. I never see sick an obstinate thick-head! Yer 'yn't worvy of +yet tryde. + + [He whispers still more violently and makes cabalistic signs.] + + [LADY WILLIAM lifts the bomb from the cooler into the sight of + all. LORD WILLIAM, seeing it for the first time in full light, + bends double in silent laughter, and whispers to his wife. LADY + WILLIAM drops the bomb and gives way too. Hearing the sound, + LEMMY turns, and his goggling eyes pan them all in review. LORD + and LADY WILLIAM in fits of laughter, LITTLE ANNE stamping her + feet, for MISS STOKES, red, but composed, has her hands placed + firmly over her pupil's eyes and ears; LITTLE AIDA smiling + brilliantly, MRS. LEMMY blandly in sympathy, neither knowing + why; the FOUR FOOTMAN in a row, smothering little explosions. + POULDER, extremely grave and red, THE PRESS perfectly haggard, + gnawing at his nails.] + +LEMMY. [Turning to THE PRESS] Blimy! It amooses 'em, all but the +genteel ones. Cheer oh! Press! Yer can always myke somefin' out o' +nufun'? It's not the fust thing as 'as existed in yer imaginytion +only. + +PRESS. No, d---it; I'll keep it a bomb! + +LEMMY. [Soothingly] Ah! Keep the sensytion. Wot's the troof +compared wiv that? Come on, Muvver! Come on, Little Aida! Time we +was goin' dahn to 'Earf. + + [He goes up to the table, and still skidding a little at LADY + WILLIAM, takes the late bomb from the cooler, placing it under + his arm.] + +MRS. LEMMY. Gude naight, sir; gude naight, ma'am; thank yu for my +cup o' tea, an' all yore kindness. + + [She shakes hands with LORD and LADY WILLIAM, drops the curtsey + of her youth before Mr. POULDER, and goes out followed by LITTLE + AIDA, who is looking back at LITTLE ANNE.] + +LEMMY. [Turning suddenly] Aoh! An' jist one frog! Next time yer +build an 'ouse, daon't forget--it's the foundytions as bears the +wyte. + + [With a wink that gives way, to a last fascinated look at LADY + WILLIAM, he passes out. All gaze after them, except THE PRESS, + who is tragically consulting his spiflicated notes.] + +L. ANNE. [Breaking away from Miss STOKES and rushing forward] Oh! +Mum! what was it? + + +CURTAIN + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of THE FOUNDATIONS (play) +by John Galsworthy. + + + + + + +THE SKIN GAME + +(A TRAGI-COMEDY) + + +"Who touches pitch shall be defiled" + + + +CHARACTERS + +HILLCRIST ...............A Country Gentleman +AMY .....................His Wife +JILL ....................His Daughter +DAWKER ..................His Agent +HORNBLOWER ..............A Man Newly-Rich +CHARLES .................His Elder Son +CHLOE ...................Wife to Charles +ROLF ....................His Younger Son +FELLOWS .................Hillcrist's Butler +ANNA ....................Chloe's Maid +THE JACKMANS ............Man and Wife + +AN AUCTIONEER +A SOLICITOR +TWO STRANGERS + + + + +ACT I. HILLCRIST'S Study + +ACT II. + SCENE I. A month later. An Auction Room. + SCENE II. The same evening. CHLOE'S Boudoir. + +ACT III + + SCENE I. The following day. HILLCRIST'S Study. Morning. + SCENE II. The Same. Evening. + + + + +ACT I + + HILLCRIST'S study. A pleasant room, with books in calf + bindings, and signs that the HILLCRIST'S have travelled, such + as a large photograph of the Taj Mahal, of Table Mountain, and + the Pyramids of Egypt. A large bureau [stage Right], devoted + to the business of a country estate. Two foxes' masks. + Flowers in bowls. Deep armchairs. A large French window open + [at Back], with a lovely view of a slight rise of fields and + trees in August sunlight. A fine stone fireplace [stage Left]. + A door [Left]. A door opposite [Right]. General colour + effect--stone, and cigar-leaf brown, with spots of bright + colour. + + [HILLCRIST sits in a swivel chair at the bureau, busy with + papers. He has gout, and his left foot is encased accord: He + is a thin, dried-up man of about fifty-five, with a rather + refined, rather kindly, and rather cranky countenance. Close + to him stands his very upstanding nineteen-year-old daughter + JILL, with clubbed hair round a pretty, manly face.] + +JILL. You know, Dodo, it's all pretty good rot in these days. + +HILLCRIST. Cads are cads, Jill, even in these days. + +JILL. What is a cad? + +HILLCRIST. A self-assertive fellow, without a sense of other +people. + +JILL. Well, Old Hornblower I'll give you. + +HILLCRIST. I wouldn't take him. + +JILL. Well, you've got him. Now, Charlie--Chearlie--I say--the +importance of not being Charlie---- + +HILLCRIST. Good heavens! do you know their Christian names? + +JILL. My dear father, they've been here seven years. + +HILLCRIST. In old days we only knew their Christian names from +their tombstones. + +JILL. Charlie Hornblower isn't really half a bad sport. + +HILLCRIST. About a quarter of a bad sport I've always thought out +hunting. + +JILL. [Pulling his hair] Now, his wife--Chloe--- + +HILLCRIST. [Whimsical] Gad! your mother'd have a fit if she knew +you called her Chloe. + +JILL. It's a ripping name. + +HILLCRIST. Chloe! H'm! I had a spaniel once---- + +JILL. Dodo, you're narrow. Buck up, old darling, it won't do. +Chloe has seen life, I'm pretty sure; THAT'S attractive, anyway. +No, mother's not in the room; don't turn your uneasy eyes. + +HILLCRIST. Really, my dear, you are getting---- + +JILL. The limit. Now, Rolf---- + +HILLCRIST. What's Rolf? Another dog? + +JILL. Rolf Hornblower's a topper; he really is a nice boy. + +HILLCRIST. [With a sharp look] Oh! He's a nice boy? + +JILL. Yes, darling. You know what a nice boy is, don't you? + +HILLCRIST. Not in these days. + +JILL. Well, I'll tell you. In the first place, he's not amorous. + +HILLCRIST. What! Well, that's some comfort. + +JILL. Just a jolly good companion. + +HILLCRIST. To whom? + +JILL. Well, to anyone--me. + +HILLCRIST. Where? + +JILL. Anywhere. You don't suppose I confine myself to the home +paddocks, do you? I'm naturally rangey, Father. + +HILLCRIST. [Ironically] You don't say so! + +JILL. In the second place, he doesn't like discipline. + +HILLCRIST. Jupiter! He does seem attractive. + +JILL. In the third place, he bars his father. + +HILLCRIST. Is that essential to nice girls too? + +JILL. [With a twirl of his hair] Fish not! Fourthly, he's got +ideas. + +HILLCRIST. I knew it! + +JILL. For instance, he thinks--as I do---- + +HILLCRIST. Ah! Good ideas. + +JILL. [Pulling gently] Careful! He thinks old people run the show +too much. He says they oughtn't to, because they're so damtouchy. +Are you damtouchy, darling? + +HILLCRIST. Well, I'm----! I don't know about touchy. + +JILL. He says there'll be no world fit to live in till we get rid +of the old. We must make them climb a tall tree, and shake them off +it. + +HILLCRIST. [Drily] Oh! he says that! + +JILL. Otherwise, with the way they stand on each other's rights, +they'll spoil the garden for the young. + +HILLCRIST. Does his father agree? + +JILL. Oh! Rolf doesn't talk to him, his mouth's too large. Have +you ever seen it, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Of course. + +JILL. It's considerable, isn't it? Now yours is--reticent, +darling. [Rumpling his hair.] + +HILLCRIST. It won't be in a minute. Do you realise that I've got +gout? + +JILL. Poor ducky! How long have we been here, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Since Elizabeth, anyway. + +JILL. [Looking at his foot] It has its drawbacks. D'you think +Hornblower had a father? I believe he was spontaneous. But, Dodo, +why all this--this attitude to the Hornblowers? + + [She purses her lips and makes a gesture as of pushing persons + away.] + +HILLCRIST. Because they're pushing. + +JILL. That's only because we are, as mother would say, and they're +not--yet. But why not let them be? + +HILLCRIST. You can't. + +JILL. Why? + +HILLCRIST. It takes generations to learn to live and let live, +Jill. People like that take an ell when you give them an inch. + +JILL. But if you gave them the ell, they wouldn't want the inch. +Why should it all be such a skin game? + +HILLCRIST. Skin game? Where do you get your lingo? + +JILL. Keep to the point, Dodo. + +HILLCRIST. Well, Jill, all life's a struggle between people at +different stages of development, in different positions, with +different amounts of social influence and property. And the only +thing is to have rules of the game and keep them. New people like +the Hornblowers haven't learnt those rules; their only rule is to +get all they can. + +JILL. Darling, don't prose. They're not half as bad as you think. + +HILLCRIST. Well, when I sold Hornblower Longmeadow and the +cottages, I certainly found him all right. All the same, he's got +the cloven hoof. [Warming up] His influence in Deepwater is +thoroughly bad; those potteries of his are demoralising--the whole +atmosphere of the place is changing. It was a thousand pities he +ever came here and discovered that clay. He's brought in the modern +cutthroat spirit. + +JILL. Cut our throat spirit, you mean. What's your definition of a +gentleman, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. [Uneasily] Can't describe--only feel it. + +JILL. Oh! Try! + +HILLCRIST. Well--er--I suppose you might say--a man who keeps his +form and doesn't let life scupper him out of his standards. + +JILL. But suppose his standards are low? + +HILLCRIST. [With some earnestness] I assume, of course, that he's +honest and tolerant, gentle to the weak, and not self-seeking. + +JILL. Ah! self-seeking? But aren't we all, Dodo? I am. + +HILLCRIST. [With a smile] You! + +JILL. [Scornfully] Oh! yes--too young to know. + +HILLCRIST. Nobody knows till they're under pretty heavy fire, Jill. + +JILL. Except, of course, mother. + +HILLCRIST. How do you mean--mother? + +JILL. Mother reminds me of England according to herself--always +right whatever she does. + +HILLCRIST. Ye-es. Your mother it perhaps--the perfect woman. + +JILL. That's what I was saying. Now, no one could call you +perfect, Dodo. Besides, you've got gout. + +HILLCRIST. Yes; and I want Fellows. Ring that bell. + +JILL. [Crossing to the bell] Shall I tell you my definition of a +gentleman? A man who gives the Hornblower his due. [She rings the +bell] And I think mother ought to call on them. Rolf says old +Hornblower resents it fearfully that she's never made a sign to +Chloe the three years she's been here. + +HILLCRIST. I don't interfere with your mother in such matters. She +may go and call on the devil himself if she likes. + +JILL. I know you're ever so much better than she is. + +HILLCRIST. That's respectful. + +JILL. You do keep your prejudices out of your phiz. But mother +literally looks down her nose. And she never forgives an "h." +They'd get the "hell" from her if they took the "hinch." + +HILLCRIST. Jill-your language! + +JILL. Don't slime out of it, Dodo. I say, mother ought to call on +the Hornblowers. [No answer.] Well? + +HILLCRIST. My dear, I always let people have the last word. It +makes them--feel funny. Ugh! My foot![Enter FELLOWS, Left.] +Fellows, send into the village and get another bottle of this stuff. + +JILL. I'll go, darling. + + [She blow him a kiss, and goes out at the window.] + +HILLCRIST. And tell cook I've got to go on slops. This foot's +worse. + +FELLOWS. [Sympathetic] Indeed, sir. + +HILLCRIST. My third go this year, Fellows. + +FELLOWS. Very annoying, sir. + +HILLCRIST. Ye-es. Ever had it? + +FELLOWS. I fancy I have had a twinge, sir. + +HILLCRIST. [Brightening] Have you? Where? + +FELLOWS. In my cork wrist, sir. + +HILLCRIST. Your what? + +FELLOWS. The wrist I draw corks with. + +HILLCRIST. [With a cackle] You'd have had more than a twinge if +you'd lived with my father. H'm! + +FELLOWS. Excuse me, sir--Vichy water corks, in my experience, are +worse than any wine. + +HILLCRIST. [Ironically] Ah! The country's not what it was, is it, +Fellows? + +FELLOWS. Getting very new, sir. + +HILLCRIST. [Feelingly] You're right. Has Dawker come? + +FELLOWS. Not yet, sir. The Jackmans would like to see you, sir. + +HILLCRIST. What about? + +FELLOWS. I don't know, sir. + +HILLCRIST. Well, show them in. + +FELLOWS. [Going] Yes, sir. + + [HILLCRIST turns his swivel chair round. The JACKMANS come in. + He, a big fellow about fifty, in a labourer's dress, with eyes + which have more in then than his tongue can express; she, a + little woman with a worn face, a bright, quick glance, and a + tongue to match.] + +HILLCRIST. Good morning, Mrs. Jackman! Morning, Jackman! Haven't +seen you for a long time. What can I do? + + [He draws in foot, and breath, with a sharp hiss.] + +HILLCRIST. [In a down-hearted voice] We've had notice to quit, +sir. + +HILLCRIST. [With emphasis] What! + +JACKMAN. Got to be out this week. + +MRS. J. Yes, sir, indeed. + +HILLCRIST. Well, but when I sold Longmeadow and the cottages, it +was on the express understanding that there was to be no disturbance +of tenancies: + +MRS. J. Yes, sir; but we've all got to go. Mrs. 'Arvey, and the +Drews, an' us, and there isn't another cottage to be had anywhere in +Deepwater. + +HILLCRIST. I know; I want one for my cowman. This won't do at all. +Where do you get it from? + +JACKMAN. Mr. 'Ornblower, 'imself, air. Just an hour ago. He come +round and said: "I'm sorry; I want the cottages, and you've got to +clear." + +MRS. J. [Bitterly] He's no gentleman, sir; he put it so brisk. We +been there thirty years, and now we don't know what to do. So I +hope you'll excuse us coming round, sir. + +HILLCRIST. I should think so, indeed! H'm! [He rises and limps +across to the fireplace on his stick. To himself] The cloven hoof. +By George! this is a breach of faith. I'll write to him, Jackman. +Confound it! I'd certainly never have sold if I'd known he was +going to do this. + +MRS. J. No, sir, I'm sure, sir. They do say it's to do with the +potteries. He wants the cottages for his workmen. + +HILLCRIST. [Sharply] That's all very well, but he shouldn't have +led me to suppose that he would make no change. + +JACKMAN. [Heavily] They talk about his havin' bought the Centry to +gut up more chimneys there, and that's why he wants the cottages. + +HINT. The Centry! Impossible! + + [Mrs. J. Yes, air; it's such a pretty spot-looks beautiful + from here. [She looks out through the window] Loveliest spot + in all Deepwater, I always say. And your father owned it, and + his father before 'im. It's a pity they ever sold it, sir, + beggin' your pardon.] + +HILLCRIST. The Centry! [He rings the bell.] + +Mrs. J. [Who has brightened up] I'm glad you're goin' to stop it, +sir. It does put us about. We don't know where to go. I said to +Mr. Hornblower, I said, "I'm sure Mr. Hillcrist would never 'eve +turned us out." An' 'e said: "Mr. Hillcrist be----" beggin' your +pardon, sir. "Make no mistake," 'e said, "you must go, missis." He +don't even know our name; an' to come it like this over us! He's a +dreadful new man, I think, with his overridin notions. And sich a +heavyfooted man, to look at. [With a sort of indulgent contempt] +But he's from the North, they say. + + [FELLOWS has entered, Left.] + +HILLCRIST. Ask Mrs. Hillcrist if she'll come. + +FELLOWS. Very good, sir. + +HILLCRIST. Is Dawker here? + +FELLOWS. Not yet, sir. + +HILLCRIST. I want to see him at once. + + [FELLOWS retires.] + +JACKMAN. Mr. Hornblower said he was comin' on to see you, sir. So +we thought we'd step along first. + +HILLCRIST. Quite right, Jackman. + +MRS. J. I said to Jackman: "Mr. Hillcrist'll stand up for us, I +know. He's a gentleman," I said. "This man," I said, "don't care +for the neighbourhood, or the people; he don't care for anything so +long as he makes his money, and has his importance. You can't +expect it, I suppose," I said; [Bitterly] "havin' got rich so +sudden." The gentry don't do things like that. + +HILLCRIST. [Abstracted] Quite, Mrs. Jackman, quite! +[To himself] The Centry! No! + + [MRS. HILLCRIST enters. A well-dressed woman, with a firm, + clear-cut face.] + +Oh! Amy! Mr. and Mrs. Jackman turned out of their cottage, and +Mrs. Harvey, and the Drews. When I sold to Hornblower, I stipulated +that they shouldn't be. + +MRS. J. Our week's up on Saturday, ma'am, and I'm sure I don't know +where we shall turn, because of course Jackman must be near his +work, and I shall lose me washin' if we have to go far. + +HILLCRIST. [With decision] You leave it to me, Mrs. Jackman. Good +morning! Morning, Jackman! Sorry I can't move with this gout. + +MRS. J. [For them both] I'm sure we're very sorry, sir. Good +morning, sir. Good morning, ma'am; and thank you kindly. [They go +out.] + +HILLCRIST. Turning people out that have been there thirty years. I +won't have it. It's a breach of faith. + +MRS. H. Do you suppose this Hornblower will care two straws about +that Jack? + +HILLCRIST. He must, when it's put to him, if he's got any decent +feeling. + +MRS. H. He hasn't. + +HILLCRIST. [Suddenly] The Jackmans talk of his having bought the +Centry to put up more chimneys. + +MRS. H. Never! [At the window, looking out] Impossible! It would +ruin the place utterly; besides cutting us off from the Duke's. Oh, +no! Miss Mullins would never sell behind our backs. + +HILLCRIST. Anyway I must stop his turning these people out. + +Mrs. H. [With a little smile, almost contemptuous] You might have +known he'd do something of the sort. You will imagine people are +like yourself, Jack. You always ought to make Dawker have things in +black and white. + +HILLCRIST. I said quite distinctly: "Of course you won't want to +disturb the tenancies; there's a great shortage of cottages." +Hornblower told me as distinctly that he wouldn't. What more do you +want? + +Mrs. H. A man like that thinks of nothing but the short cut to his +own way. [Looking out of the window towards the rise] If he buys +the Centry and puts up chimneys, we simply couldn't stop here. + +HILLCRIST. My father would turn in his grave. + +MRS. H. It would have been more useful if he'd not dipped the +estate, and sold the Centry. This Hornblower hates us; he thinks we +turn up our noses at him. + +HILLCRIST. As we do, Amy. + +MRS. H. Who wouldn't? A man without traditions, who believes in +nothing but money and push. + +HILLCRIST. Suppose he won't budge, can we do anything for the +Jackmans? + +MRS. H. There are the two rooms Beaver used to have, over the +stables. + +FELLOWS. Mr. Dawker, sir. + + [DAWKERS is a short, square, rather red-faced terrier of a man, + in riding clothes and gaiters.] + +HILLCRIST. Ah! Dawker, I've got gout again. + +DAWKER. Very sorry, sir. How de do, ma'am? + +HILLCRIST. Did you meet the Jackmans? + +DAWKERS. Yeh. + + [He hardly ever quite finishes a word, seeming to snap of their + tails.] + +HILLCRIST. Then you heard? + +DAWKER. [Nodding] Smart man, Hornblower; never lets grass grow. + +HILLCRIST. Smart? + +DAWKER. [Grinning] Don't do to underrate your neighbours. + +MRS. H. A cad--I call him. + +DAWKER. That's it, ma'am-got all the advantage. + +HILLCRIST. Heard anything about the Centry, Dawker? + +DAWKER. Hornblower wants to buy. + +HILLCRIST. Miss Mullins would never sell, would she? + +DAWKER. She wants to. + +HILLCRIST. The deuce she does! + +DAWKER. He won't stick at the price either. + +MRS. H. What's it worth, Dawker? + +DAWKER. Depends on what you want it for. + +MRS. H. He wants it for spite; we want it for sentiment. + +DAWKER. [Grinning] Worth what you like to give, then; but he's a +rich man. + +MRS. H. Intolerable! + +DAWKER. [To HILLCRIST] Give me your figure, sir. I'll try the old +lady before he gets at her. + +HILLCRIST. [Pondering] I don't want to buy, unless there's nothing +else for it. I should have to raise the money on the estate; it +won't stand much more. I can't believe the fellow would be such a +barbarian. Chimneys within three hundred yards, right in front of +this house! It's a nightmare. + +MRS. H. You'd much better let Dawker make sure, Jack. + +HILLCRIST. [Uncomfortable] Jackman says Hornblower's coming round +to see me. I shall put it to him. + +DAWKER. Make him keener than ever. Better get in first. + +HILLCRIST. Ape his methods!--Ugh! Confound this gout! [He gets +back to his chair with difficulty] Look here, Dawker, I wanted to +see you about gates---- + +FELLOWS. [Entering] Mr. Hornblower. + + [HORNBLOWER enters-a man of medium, height, thoroughly + broadened, blown out, as it were, by success. He has thick, + coarse, dark hair, just grizzled, wry bushy eyebrow, a wide + mouth. He wears quite ordinary clothes, as if that department + were in charge of someone who knew about such, things. He has + a small rose in his buttonhole, and carries a Homburg hat, + which one suspects will look too small on his head.] + +HORNBLOWER. Good morning! good morning! How are ye, Dawker? Fine +morning! Lovely weather! + + [His voice has a curious blend in its tone of brass and oil, + and an accent not quite Scotch nor quite North country.] + +Haven't seen ye for a long time, Hillcrist. + +HILLCRIST. [Who has risen] Not since I sold you Longmeadow and +those cottages, I believe. + +HORNBLOWER. Dear me, now! that's what I came about. + +HILLCRIST. [Subsiding again into his chair] Forgive me! Won't you +sit down? + +HORNBLOWER. [Not sitting] Have ye got gout? That's unfortunate. +I never get it. I've no disposition that way. Had no ancestors, +you see. Just me own drinkin' to answer for. + +HILLCRIST. You're lucky. + +HORNBLOWER. I wonder if Mrs. Hillcrist thinks that! Am I lucky to +have no past, ma'am? Just the future? + +MRS. H. You're sure you have the future, Mr. Hornblower? + +HORNBLOWER. [With a laugh] That's your aristocratic rapier thrust. +You aristocrats are very hard people underneath your manners. Ye +love to lay a body out. But I've got the future all right. + +HILLCRIST. [Meaningly] I've had the Dackmans here, Mr. Hornblower. + +HORNBLOWER. Who are they--man with the little spitfire wife? + +HILLCRIST. They're very excellent, good people, and they've been in +that cottage quietly thirty years. + +HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his forefinger--a favourite gesture] Ah! +ye've wanted me to stir ye up a bit. Deepwater needs a bit o' go +put into it. There's generally some go where I am. I daresay you +wish there'd been no "come." [He laughs]. + +MRS. H. We certainly like people to keep their word, Mr. +Hornblower. + +HILLCRIST. Amy! + +HORNBLOWER. Never mind, Hillcrist; takes more than that to upset +me. + + [MRS. HILLCRIST exchanges a look with DAWKER who slips out + unobserved.] + +HILLCRIST. You promised me, you know, not to change the tenancies. + +HORNBLOWER. Well, I've come to tell ye that I have. I wasn't +expecting to have the need when I bought. Thought the Duke would +sell me a bit down there; but devil a bit he will; and now I must +have those cottages for my workmen. I've got important works, ye +know. + +HILLCRIST. [Getting heated] The Jackmans have their importance +too, sir. Their heart's in that cottage. + +HORNBLOWER. Have a sense of proportion, man. My works supply +thousands of people, and my, heart's in them. What's more, they +make my fortune. I've got ambitions--I'm a serious man. Suppose I +were to consider this and that, and every little potty objection-- +where should I get to?--nowhere! + +HILLCRIST. All the same, this sort of thing isn't done, you know. + +HORNBLOWER. Not by you because ye've got no need to do it. Here ye +are, quite content on what your fathers made for ye. Ye've no +ambitions; and ye want other people to have none. How d'ye think +your fathers got your land? + +HILLCRIST. [Who has risen] Not by breaking their word. + +HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his, finger] Don't ye believe it. They +got it by breaking their word and turnin' out Jackmans, if that's +their name, all over the place. + +MRS. H. That's an insult, Mr. Hornblower. + +HORNBLOWER. No; it's a repartee. If ye think so much of these +Jackmans, build them a cottage yourselves; ye've got the space. + +HILLCRIST. That's beside the point. You promised me, and I sold on +that understanding. + +HORNBLOWER. And I bought on the understandin' that I'd get some +more land from the Duke. + +HILLCRIST. That's nothing to do with me. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye'll find it has; because I'm going to have those +cottages. + +HILLCRIST. Well, I call it simply---- + + [He checks himself.] + +HORNBLOWER. Look here, Hillcrist, ye've not had occasion to +understand men like me. I've got the guts, and I've got the money; +and I don't sit still on it. I'm going ahead because I believe in +meself. I've no use for sentiment and that sort of thing. Forty of +your Jackmans aren't worth me little finger. + +HILLCRIST. [Angry] Of all the blatant things I ever heard said! + +HORNBLOWER. Well, as we're speaking plainly, I've been thinkin'. +Ye want the village run your oldfashioned way, and I want it run +mine. I fancy there's not room for the two of us here. + +MRS. H. When are you going? + +HORNBLOWER. Never fear, I'm not going. + +HILLCRIST. Look here, Mr. Hornblower--this infernal gout makes me +irritable--puts me at a disadvantage. But I should be glad if you'd +kindly explain yourself. + +HORNBLOWER. [With a great smile] Ca' canny; I'm fra' the North. + +HILLCRIST. I'm told you wish to buy the Centry and put more of your +chimneys up there, regardless of the fact [He Points through the +window] that it would utterly ruin the house we've had for +generations, and all our pleasure here. + +HORNBLOWER. How the man talks! Why! Ye'd think he owned the sky, +because his fathers built him a house with a pretty view, where he's +nothing to do but live. It's sheer want of something to do that +gives ye your fine sentiments, Hillcrist. + + +HILLCRIST. Have the goodness not to charge me with idleness. +Dawker--where is he?----[He shows the bureau] When you do the +drudgery of your works as thoroughly as I do that of my estate---- +Is it true about the Centry? + +HORNBLOWER. Gospel true. If ye want to know, my son Chearlie is +buyin' it this very minute. + +MRS. H. [Turning with a start] What do you say? + +HORNBLOWER. Ay, he's with the old lady she wants to sell, an' +she'll get her price, whatever it is. + +HILLCRIST. [With deep anger] If that isn't a skin game, Mr. +Hornblower, I don't know what is. + +HORNBLOWER. Ah! Ye've got a very nice expression there. "Skin +game!" Well, bad words break no bones, an' they're wonderful for +hardenin' the heart. If it wasn't for a lady's presence, I could +give ye a specimen or two. + +MRS. H. Oh! Mr. Hornblower, that need not stop you, I'm sure. + +HORNBLOWER. Well, and I don't know that it need. Ye're an +obstruction--the like of you--ye're in my path. And anyone in my +path doesn't stay there long; or, if he does, he stays there on my +terms. And my terms are chimneys in the Centry where I need 'em. +It'll do ye a power of good, too, to know that ye're not almighty. + +HILLCRIST. And that's being neighbourly! + +HORNBLOWER. And how have ye tried bein' neighbourly to me? If I +haven't a wife, I've got a daughter-in-law. Have Ye celled on her, +ma'am? I'm new, and ye're an old family. Ye don't like me, ye +think I'm a pushin' man. I go to chapel, an' ye don't like that. +I make things and I sell them, and ye don't like that. I buy land, +and ye don't like that. It threatens the view from your windies. +Well, I don't lie you, and I'm not goin' to put up with your +attitude. Ye've had things your own way too long, and now ye're not +going to have them any longer. + +HILLCRIST. Will you hold to your word over those cottages? + +HORNBLOWER. I'm goin' to have the cottages. I need them, and more +besides, now I'm to put up me new works. + +HILLCRIST. That's a declaration of war. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye never said a truer word. It's one or the other of +us, and I rather think it's goin' to be me. I'm the risin' and +you're the settin' sun, as the poet says. + +HILLCRIST. [Touching the bell] We shall see if you can ride rough- +shod like this. We used to have decent ways of going about things +here. You want to change all that. Well, we shall do our damnedest +to stop you. [To FELLOWS at the door] Are the Jackmans still in +the house? Ask them to be good enough to come in. + +HORNBLOWER. [With the first sign of uneasiness] I've seen these +people. I've nothing more to say to them. I told 'em I'd give 'em +five pounds to cover their moving. + +HILLCRIST. It doesn't occur to you that people, however humble, +like to have some say in their own fate? + +HORNBLOWER. I never had any say in mine till I had the brass, and +nobody ever will. It's all hypocrisy. You county folk are fair +awful hypocrites. Ye talk about good form and all that sort o' +thing. It's just the comfortable doctrine of the man in the saddle; +sentimental varnish. Ye're every bit as hard as I am, underneath. + +MRS. H. [Who had been standing very still all this time] You +flatter us. + +HORNBLOWER. Not at all. God helps those who 'elp themselves-- +that's at the bottom of all religion. I'm goin' to help meself, and +God's going to help me. + +MRS. H. I admire your knowledge. + +HILLCRIST. We are in the right, and God helps---- + +HORNBLOWER. Don't ye believe it; ye 'aven't got the energy. + +MRS. H. Nor perhaps the conceit. + +HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his forefinger] No, no; 'tisn't conceit +to believe in yourself when ye've got reason to. [The JACKMAN'S +have entered.] + +HILLCRIST. I'm very sorry, Mrs. Jackman, but I just wanted you to +realise that I've done my best with this gentleman. + +MRS. J. [Doubtfully] Yes, sir. I thought if you spoke for us, +he'd feel different-like. + +HORNBLOWER. One cottage is the same as another, missis. I made ye +a fair offer of five pounds for the moving. + +JACKMAN. [Slowly] We wouldn't take fifty to go out of that 'ouse. +We brought up three children there, an' buried two from it. + +MRS. J. [To MRS. HILLCRIST] We're attached to it like, ma'am. + +HILLCRIST. [To HORNBLOWER.] How would you like being turned out of +a place you were fond of? + +HORNBLOWER. Not a bit. But little considerations have to give way +to big ones. Now, missis, I'll make it ten pounds, and I'll send a +wagon to shift your things. If that isn't fair--! Ye'd better +accept, I shan't keep it open. + + [The JACKMANS look at each other; their faces show deep anger-- + and the question they ask each other is which will speak.] + +MRS. J. We won't take it; eh, George? + +JACKMAN. Not a farden. We come there when we was married. + +HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his finger] Ye're very improvident folk. + +HILLCRIST. Don't lecture them, Mr. Hornblower; they come out of +this miles above you. + +HORNBLOWER. [Angry] Well, I was going to give ye another week, but +ye'll go out next Saturday; and take care ye're not late, or your +things'll be put out in the rain. + +MRS. H. [To MRS. JACKMAN] We'll send down for your things, and you +can come to us for the time being. + + [MRS. JACKMAN drops a curtsey; her eyes stab HORNBLOWERS.] + +JACKMAN. [Heavily, clenching his fists] You're no gentleman! +Don't put temptation in my way, that's all, + +HILLCRIST. [In a low voice] Jackman! + +HORNBLOWER. [Triumphantly] Ye hear that? That's your protegee! +Keep out o' my way, me man, or I'll put the police on to ye for +utterin' threats. + +HILLCRIST. You'd better go now, Jackman. + + [The JACKMANS move to the door.] + +MRS. J. [Turning] Maybe you'll repent it some day, sir. + + [They go out, MRS. HILLCRIST following.] + +HORNBLOWER. We-ell, I'm sorry they're such unreasonable folk. I +never met people with less notion of which side their bread was +buttered. + +HILLCRIST. And I never met anyone so pachydermatous. + +HORNBLOWER. What's that, in Heaven's name? Ye needn' wrap it up in +long words now your good lady's gone. + +HILLCRIST. [With dignity] I'm not going in for a slanging match. +I resent your conduct much too deeply. + +HORNBLOWER. Look here, Hillcrist, I don't object to you personally; +ye seem to me a poor creature that's bound to get left with your +gout and your dignity; but of course ye can make yourself very +disagreeable before ye're done. Now I want to be the movin' spirit +here. I'm full of plans. I'm goin' to stand for Parliament; I'm +goin' to make this a prosperous place. I'm a good-matured man if +you'll treat me as such. Now, you take me on as a neighbour and all +that, and I'll manage without chimneys on the Centry. Is it a +bargain? [He holds out his hand.] + +HILLCRIST. [Ignoring it] I thought you said you didn't keep your +word when it suited you to break it? + +HORNBLOWER. Now, don't get on the high horse. You and me could be +very good friends; but I can be a very nasty enemy. The chimneys +will not look nice from that windie, ye know. + +HILLCRIST. [Deeply angry] Mr. Hornblower, if you think I'll take +your hand after this Jackman business, you're greatly mistaken. You +are proposing that I shall stand in with you while you tyrannise +over the neighbourhood. Please realise that unless you leave those +tenancies undisturbed as you said you would, we don't know each +other. + +HORNBLOWER. Well, that won't trouble me much. Now, ye'd better +think it over; ye've got gout and that makes ye hasty. I tell ye +again: I'm not the man to make an enemy of. Unless ye're friendly, +sure as I stand here I'll ruin the look of your place. + + [The toot of a car is heard.] + +There's my car. I sent Chearlie and his wife in it to buy the +Centry. And make no mistake--he's got it in his packet. It's your +last chance, Hillcrist. I'm not averse to you as a man; I think +ye're the best of the fossils round here; at least, I think ye can +do me the most harm socially. Come now! + + [He holds out his hand again.] + +HILLCRIST. Not if you'd bought the Centry ten times over. Your +ways are not mine, and I'll have nothing to do with you. + +HORNBLOWER. [Very angry] Really! Is that so? Very well. Now +ye're goin' to learn something, an' it's time ye did. D'ye realise +that I'm 'very nearly round ye? [He draws a circle slowly in the +air] I'm at Uphill, the works are here, here's Longmeadow, here's +the Centry that I've just bought, there's only the Common left to +give ye touch with the world. Now between you and the Common +there's the high road. + +I come out on the high road here to your north, and I shall come out +on it there to your west. When I've got me new works up on the +Centry, I shall be makin' a trolley track between the works up to +the road at both ends, so any goods will be running right round ye. +How'll ye like that for a country place? + + [For answer HILLCRIST, who is angry beyond the power of speech, + walks, forgetting to use his stick, up to the French window. + While he stands there, with his back to HORNBLOWER, the door L. + is flung open, and Jim enters, preceding CHARLES, his wife + CHLOE, and ROLF. CHARLES is a goodish-looking, moustached + young man of about twenty-eight, with a white rim to the collar + of his waistcoat, and spats. He has his hand behind CHLOE'S + back, as if to prevent her turning tail. She is rather a + handsome young woman, with dark eyes, full red lips, and a + suspicion of powder, a little under-dressed for the country. + ROLF, mho brings up the rear, is about twenty, with an open + face and stiffish butter-coloured hair. JILL runs over to her + father at the window. She has a bottle.] + +JILL. [Sotto voce] Look, Dodo, I've brought the lot! Isn't it a +treat, dear Papa? And here's the stuff. Hallo! + + [The exclamation is induced by the apprehension that there has + been a row. HILLCRIST gives a stiff little bow, remaining + where he is in the window. JILL, stays close to him, staring + from one to the other, then blocks him off and engages him in + conversation. CHARLES has gone up to his father, who has + remained maliciously still, where he delivered his last speech. + CHLOE and ROLF stand awkwardly waiting between the fireplace + and the door.] + +HORNBLOWER. Well, Chearlie? + +CHARLES. Not got it. + +HORNBLOWER. Not! + +CHARLES. I'd practically got her to say she'd sell at three +thousand five hundred, when that fellow Dawker turned up. + +HORNBLOWER. That bull-terrier of a chap! Why, he was here a while +ago. Oh--ho! So that's it! + +CHARLES. I heard him gallop up. He came straight for the old lady, +and got her away. What he said I don't know; but she came back +looking wiser than an owl; said she'd think it over, thought she had +other views. + +HORNBLOWER. Did ye tell her she might have her price? + +CHARLES. Practically I did. + +HORNBLOWER. Well? + +CHARLES. She thought it would be fairer to put it up to auction. +There were other enquiries. Oh! She's a leery old bird--reminds me +of one of those pictures of Fate, don't you know. + +HORNBLOWER. Auction! Well, if it's not gone we'll get it yet. +That damned little Dawker! I've had a row with Hillcrist. + +CHARLES. I thought so. + + [They are turning cautiously to look at HILLCRIST, when JILL + steps forward.] + +JILL. [Flushed and determined] That's not a bit sporting of you, +Mr. Hornblower. + + [At her words ROLE comes forward too.] + +HORNBLOWER. Ye should hear both sides before ye say that, missy. + +JILL. There isn't another side to turning out the Jackmans after +you'd promised. + +HORNBLOWER. Oh! dear me, yes. They don't matter a row of +gingerbread to the schemes I've got for betterin' this +neighbourhood. + +JILL. I had been standing up for you; now I won't. + +HOUNBLOWER. Dear, dear! What'll become of me? + +JILL. I won't say anything about the other thing because I think +it's beneath, dignity to notice it. But to turn poor people out of +their cottages is a shame. + +HORNBLOWER. Hoity me! + +ROLF. [Suddenly] You haven't been doing that, father? + +CHARLES. Shut up, Rolf! + +HORNBLOWER. [Turning on ROLF] Ha! Here's a league o' Youth! My +young whipper-snapper, keep your mouth shut and leave it to your +elders to know what's right. + + [Under the weight of this rejoinder ROLF stands biting his + lips. Then he throws his head up.] + +ROLF. I hate it! + +HORNBLOWER. [With real venom] Oh! Ye hate it? Ye can get out of +my house, then. + +JILL. Free speech, Mr. Hornblower; don't be violent. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye're right, young lady. Ye can stay in my house, +Rolf, and learn manners. Come, Chearlie! + +JILL. [Quite softly] Mr. Hornblower! + +HILLCRIST. [From the window] Jill! + +JILL. [Impatiently] Well, what's the good of it? Life's too short +for rows, and too jolly! + +ROLF. Bravo! + +HORNBLOWER. [Who has shown a sign of weakening] Now, look here! +I will not have revolt in my family. Ye'll just have to learn that +a man who's worked as I have, who's risen as I have, and who knows +the world, is the proper judge of what's right and wrong. I'll +answer to God for me actions, and not to you young people. + +JILL. Poor God! + +HORNBLOWER. [Genuinely shocked] Ye blasphemous young thing! [To +ROLF] And ye're just as bad, ye young freethinker. I won't have +it. + +HILLCRIST. [Who has come down, Right] Jill, I wish you would +kindly not talk. + +JILL. I can't help it. + +CHARLES. [Putting his arm through HORNBLOWER'S] Come along, +father! Deeds, not words. + +HORNBLOWER. Ay! Deeds! + + [MRS. HILLCRIST and DAWKERS have entered by the French window.] + +MRS. H. Quite right! + + [They all turn and look at her.] + +HORNBLOWER. Ah! So ye put your dog on to it. [He throws out his +finger at DAWKERS] Very smart, that--I give ye credit. + +MRS. H. [Pointing to CHLOE, who has stood by herself, forgotten and +uncomfortable throughout the scene] +May I ask who this lady is? + + [CHLOE turns round startled, and her vanity bag slips down her + dress to the floor.] + +HORNBLOWER. No, ma'am, ye may not, for ye know perfectly well. + +JILL. I brought her in, mother [She moves to CHLOE's side.] + +MRS. H. Will you take her out again, then. + +HILLCRIST. Amy, have the goodness to remember---- + +MRS. H. That this is my house so far as ladies are concerned. + +JILL. Mother! + + [She looks astonished at CHLOE, who, about to speak, does not, + passing her eyes, with a queer, half-scarred expression, from + MRS. HILLCRIST to DAWKER.] + + [To CHLOE] I'm awfully sorry. Come on! + + [They go out, Left. ROLF hurries after them.] + +CHARLES. You've insulted my wife. Why? What do you mean by it? + + [MRS. HILLCRIST simply smiles.] + +HILLCRIST. I apologise. I regret extremely. There is no reason +why the ladies of your family or of mine should be involved in our +quarrel. For Heaven's sake, let's fight like gentlemen. + +HORNBLOWER. Catchwords--sneers! No; we'll play what ye call a skin +game, Hillcrist, without gloves on; we won't spare each other. Ye +look out for yourselves, for, begod, after this morning I mean +business. And as for you, Dawker, ye sly dog, ye think yourself +very clever; but I'll have the Centry yet. Come, Chearlie! + + [They go out, passing JILL, who is coming in again, in the + doorway.] + +HILLCRIST. Well, Dawker? + +DAWKER. [Grinning] Safe for the moment. The old lady'll put it up +to auction. Couldn't get her to budge from that. Says she don't +want to be unneighbourly to either. But, if you ask me, it's money +she smells! + +JILL. [Advancing] Now, mother + +MRS. H. Well? + +JILL. Why did you insult her? + +MRS. H. I think I only asked you to take her out. + +JILL. Why? Even if she is Old Combustion's daughter-in-law? + +MRS. H. My dear Jill, allow me to judge the sort of acquaintances I +wish to make. [She looks at DAWKER.] + +JILL. She's all right. Lots of women powder and touch up their +lips nowadays. I think she's rather a good sort; she was awfully +upset. + +MRS. H. Too upset. + +JILL. Oh! don't be so mysterious, mother. If you know something, +do spit it out! + +MRS. H. Do you wish me to--er--"spit it out," Jack? + +HILLCRIST. Dawker, if you don't mind---- + + [DAWKER, with a nod, passes away out of the French window.] + +Jill, be respectful, and don't talk like a bargee. + +JILL. It's no good, Dodo. It made me ashamed. It's just as--as +caddish to insult people who haven't said a word, in your own house, +as it is to be--old Hornblower. + +MRS. H. You don't know what you're talking about. + +HILLCRIST. What's the matter with young Mrs. Hornblower? + +MRS. H. Excuse me, I shall keep my thoughts to myself at present. + + [She looks coldly at JILL, and goes out through the French + window.] + +HILLCRIST. You've thoroughly upset your mother, Jill. + +JILL. It's something Dawker's told her; I saw them. I don't like +Dawker, father, he's so common. + +HILLCRIST. My dear, we can't all be uncommon. He's got lots of go, +You must apologise to your mother. + +JILL. [Shaking-her clubbed hair] They'll make you do things you +don't approve of, Dodo, if you don't look out. Mother's fearfully +bitter when she gets her knife in. If old Hornblower's disgusting, +it's no reason we should be. + +HILLCRIST. So you think I'm capable--that's nice, Jill! + +JILL. No, no, darling! I only want to warn you solemnly that +mother'll tell you you're fighting fair, no matter what she and +Dawker do. + +HILLCRIST. [Smiling] Jill, I don't think I ever saw you so +serious. + +JILL. No. Because--[She swallows a lump in her throat] Well--I +was just beginning to enjoy, myself; and now--everything's going to +be bitter and beastly, with mother in that mood. That horrible old +man! Oh, Dodo! Don't let them make you horrid! You're such a +darling. How's your gout, ducky? + +HILLCRIST. Better; lot better. + +JILL. There, you see! That shows! It's going to be half- +interesting for you, but not for--us. + +HILLCRIST. Look here, Jill--is there anything between you and young +what's-his-name--Rolf? + +JILL. [Biting her lip] No. But--now it's all spoiled. + +HILLCRIST. You can't expect me to regret that. + +JILL. I don't mean any tosh about love's young dream; but I do like +being friends. I want to enjoy things, Dodo, and you can't do that +when everybody's on the hate. You're going to wallow in it, and so +shall I--oh! I know I shall!--we shall all wallow, and think of +nothing but "one for his nob." + +HILLCRIST. Aren't you fond of your home? + +JILL. Of course. I love it. + +HILLCRIST. Well, you won't be able to live in it unless we stop +that ruffian. Chimneys and smoke, the trees cut down, piles of +pots. Every kind of abomination. There! [He points] Imagine! +[He points through the French window, as if he could see those +chimneys rising and marring the beauty of the fields] I was born +here, and my father, and his, and his, and his. They loved those +fields, and those old trees. And this barbarian, with his +"improvement" schemes, forsooth! I learned to ride in the Centry +meadows--prettiest spring meadows in the world; I've climbed every +tree there. Why my father ever sold----! But who could have +imagined this? And come at a bad moment, when money's scarce. + +JILL. [Cuddling his arm] Dodo! + +HILLCRIST. Yes. But you don't love the place as I do, Jill. You +youngsters don't love anything, I sometimes think. + +JILL. I do, Dodo, I do! + +HILLCRIST. You've got it all before you. But you may live your +life and never find anything so good and so beautiful as this old +home. I'm not going to have it spoiled without a fight. + + [Conscious of batting betrayed Sentiment, he walks out at the + French window, passing away to the right. JILL following to + the window, looks. Then throwing back her head, she clasps her + hands behind it.] + +JILL. Oh--oh-oh! + + [A voice behind her says, "JILL!" She turns and starts back, + leaning against the right lintel of the window. ROLF appears + outside the window from Left.] + +Who goes there? + +ROLE. [Buttressed against the Left lintel] Enemy--after Chloe's +bag. + +JILL. Pass, enemy! And all's ill! + + [ROLF passes through the window, and retrieves the vanity bag + from the floor where CHLOE dropped it, then again takes his + stand against the Left lintel of the French window.] + +ROLF. It's not going to make any difference, is it? + +JILL. You know it is. + +ROLF. Sins of the fathers. + +JILL. Unto the third and fourth generations. What sin has my +father committed? + +ROLF. None, in a way; only, I've often told you I don't see why you +should treat us as outsiders. We don't like it. + +JILL. Well, you shouldn't be, then; I mean, he shouldn't be. + +ROLF. Father's just as human as your father; he's wrapped up in us, +and all his "getting on" is for us. Would you like to be treated as +your mother treated Chloe? Your mother's set the stroke for the +other big-wigs about here; nobody calls on Chloe. And why not? Why +not? I think it's contemptible to bar people just because they're +new, as you call it, and have to make their position instead of +having it left them. + +JILL. It's not because they're new, it's because--if your father +behaved like a gentleman, he'd be treated like one. + +ROLF. Would he? I don't believe it. My father's a very able man; +he thinks he's entitled to have influence here. Well, everybody +tries to keep him down. Oh! yes, they do. That makes him mad and +more determined than ever to get his way. You ought to be just, +Jill. + +JILL. I am just. + +ROLF. No, you're not. Besides, what's it got to do with Charlie +and Chloe? Chloe's particularly harmless. It's pretty sickening +for her. Father didn't expect people to call until Charlie married, +but since---- + +JILL. I think it's all very petty. + +ROLF. It is--a dog-in-the-manger business; I did think you were +above it. + +JILL. How would you like to have your home spoiled? + +ROLE. I'm not going to argue. Only things don't stand still. +Homes aren't any more proof against change than anything else. + +JILL. All right! You come and try and take ours. + +ROLF. We don't want to take your home. + +JILL. Like the Jackmans'? + +ROLF. All right. I see you're hopelessly prejudiced. + + [He turns to go.] + +JILL. [Just as he is vanishing--softly] Enemy? + +ROLF. [Turning] Yes, enemy. + +JILL. Before the battle--let's shake hands. + + [They move from the lintels and grasp each other's hands in the + centre of the French window.] + + + CURTAIN + + + + +ACT II + + +SCENE I + + A billiard room in a provincial hotel, where things are bought + and sold. The scene is set well forward, and is not very + broad; it represents the auctioneer's end of the room, having, + rather to stage Left, a narrow table with two chairs facing the + audience, where the auctioneer will sit and stand. The table, + which is set forward to the footlights, is littered with green- + covered particulars of sale. The audience are in effect public + and bidders. There is a door on the Left, level with the + table. Along the back wall, behind the table, are two raised + benches with two steps up to them, such as billiard rooms often + have, divided by a door in the middle of a wall, which is + panelled in oak. Late September sunlight is coming from a + skylight (not visible) on to these seats. The stage is empty + when the curtain goes up, but DAWKERS, and MRS. HILLCRIST are + just entering through the door at the back. + +DAWKER. Be out of their way here, ma'am. See old Hornblower with +Chearlie? + + [He points down to the audience.] + +MRS. H. It begins at three, doesn't it? + +DAWKER. They won't be over-punctual; there's only the Centry +selling. There's young Mrs. Hornblower with the other boy-- +[Pointing] over at the entrance. I've got that chap I told you of +down from town. + +MRS. H. Ah! make sure quite of her, Dawker. Any mistake would be +fatal. + +DAWKER. [Nodding] That's right, ma'am. Lot of peopled--always +spare time to watch an auction--ever remark that? The Duke's +agent's here; shouldn't be surprised if he chipped in. + +MRS. H. Where did you leave my husband? + +DAWKER. With Miss Jill, in the courtyard. He's coming to you. In +case I miss him; tell him when I reach his limit to blow his nose if +he wants me to go on; when he blows it a second time, I'll stop for +good. Hope we shan't get to that. Old Hornblower doesn't throw his +money away. + +MRS. H. What limit did you settle? + +DAWKER. Six thousand! + +MRS. H. That's a fearful price. Well, good luck to you, Dawker! + +DAWKER. Good luck, ma'am. I'll go and see to that little matter of +Mrs. Chloe. Never fear, we'll do them is somehow. + + [He winks, lays his finger on the side of his nose, and goes + out at the door.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST mounts the two steps, sits down Right of the + door, and puts up a pair of long-handled glasses. Through the + door behind her come CHLOE and ROLF. She makes a sign for him + to go, and shuts the door.] + +CHLOE. [At the foot of the steps in the gangway--with a slightly +common accent] Mrs. Hillcrist! + +MRS. H. [Not quite starting] I beg your pardon? + +CHLOE. [Again] Mrs. Hillcrist---- + +MRS. H. Well? + +CHLOE. I never did you any harm. + +MRS. H. Did I ever say you did? + +CHLOE. No; but you act as if I had. + +MRS. H. I'm not aware that I've acted at all--as yet. You are +nothing to me, except as one of your family. + +CHLOE. 'Tisn't I that wants to spoil your home. + +MRS. H. Stop them then. I see your husband down there with his +father. + +CHLOE. I--I have tried. + +MRS. H. [Looking at her] Oh! I suppose such men don't pay +attention to what women ask them. + +CHLOE. [With a flash of spirit] I'm fond of my husband. I---- + +MRS. H. [Looking at her steadily] I don't quite know why you spoke +to me. + +CHLOE. [With a sort of pathetic sullenness] I only thought perhaps +you'd like to treat me as a human being. + +MRS. H. Really, if you don't mind, I should like to be left alone +just now. + +CHLOE. [Unhappily acquiescent] Certainly! I'll go to the other +end. + + [She moves to the Left, mounts the steps and sits down.] + + [ROLF, looking in through the door, and seeing where she is, + joins her. MRS. HILLCRIST resettles herself a little further + in on the Right.] + +ROLF. [Bending over to CHLOE, after a glance at MRS. HILLCRIST.] +Are you all right? + +CHLOE. It's awfully hot. + + [She fans herself wide the particulars of sale.] + +ROLF. There's Dawker. I hate that chap! + +CHLOE. Where? + +ROLF. Down there; see? + + [He points down to stage Right of the room.] + +CHLOE. [Drawing back in her seat with a little gasp] Oh! + +ROLF. [Not noticing] Who's that next him, looking up here? + +CHLOE. I don't know. + + [She has raised her auction programme suddenly, and sits + fanning herself, carefully screening her face.] + +ROLE. [Looking at her] Don't you feel well? Shall I get you some +water? [He gets up at her nod.] + + [As he reaches the door, HILLCRIST and JILL come in. HILLCRIST + passes him abstractedly with a nod, and sits down beside his + wife.] + +JILL. [To ROLF] Come to see us turned out? + +ROLF. [Emphatically] No. I'm looking after Chloe; she's not well. + +JILL. [Glancing at her] Sorry. She needn't have come, I suppose? + [RALF deigns no answer, and goes out.] + + [JILL glances at CHLOE, then at her parents talking in low + voices, and sits down next her father, who makes room for her.] + +MRS. H. Can Dawker see you there, Jack? + + [HILLCRIST nods.] + +What's the time? + +HILLCRIST. Three minutes to three. + +JILL. Don't you feel beastly all down the backs of your legs. +Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Yes. + +JILL. Do you, mother? + +MRS. H. No. + +JILL. A wagon of old Hornblower's pots passed while we were in the +yard. It's an omen. + +MRS. H. Don't be foolish, Jill. + +JILL. Look at the old brute! Dodo, hold my hand. + +MRS. H. Make sure you've got a handkerchief, Jack. + +HILLCRIST. I can't go beyond the six thousand; I shall have to +raise every penny on mortgage as it is. The estate simply won't +stand more, Amy. + + [He feels in his breast pocket, and pulls up the edge of his + handkerchief.] + +JILL. Oh! Look! There's Miss Mullins, at the back; just come in. +Isn't she a spidery old chip? + +MRS. H. Come to gloat. Really, I think her not accepting your +offer is disgusting. Her impartiality is all humbug. + +HILLCRIST. Can't blame her for getting what she can--it's human +nature. Phew! I used to feel like this before a 'viva voce'. +Who's that next to Dawker? + +JILL. What a fish! + +MRS. H. [To herself] Ah! yes. + + [Her eyes slide round at CHLOE, silting motionless and rather + sunk in her seat, slowly fanning herself with they particulars + of the sale. Jack, go and offer her my smelling salts.] + +HILLCRIST. [Taking the salts] Thank God for a human touch! + +MRS. H. [Taken aback] Oh! + +JILL. [With a quick look at her mother, snatching the salts] I +will. [She goes over to CHLOE with the salts] Have a sniff; you +look awfully white. + +CHLOE. [Looking up, startled] Oh! no thanks. I'm all right. + +JILL. No, do! You must. [CHLOE takes them.] + +JILL. D'you mind letting me see that a minute? + + [She takes the particulars of the sale and studies it, but + CHLOE has buried the lower part of her face in her hand and the + smelling salts bottle.] + +Beastly hot, isn't it? You'd better keep that. + +CHLOE. [Her dark eyes wandering and uneasy] Rolf's getting me some +water. + +JILL. Why do you stay? You didn't want to come, did you? + + [CHLOE shakes her head.] + +All right! Here's your water. + + [She hands back the particulars and slides over to her seat, + passing ROLF in the gangway, with her chin well up.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST, who has watched CHLOE and JILL and DAWKER, and + his friend, makes an enquiring movement with her hand, but gets + a disappointing answer.] + +JILL. What's the time, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. [Looking at his watch] Three minutes past. + +JILL. [Sighing] Oh, hell! + +HILLCRIST. Jill! + +JILL. Sorry, Dodo. I was only thinking. Look! Here he is! +Phew!--isn't he----? + +MRS. H. 'Sh! + + The AUCTIONEER comes in Left and goes to the table. He is a + square, short, brown-faced, common looking man, with clipped + grey hair fitting him like a cap, and a clipped grey moustache. + His lids come down over his quick eyes, till he can see you + very sharply, and you can hardly see that he can see you. He + can break into a smile at any moment, which has no connection + with him, as it were. By a certain hurt look, however, when + bidding is slow, he discloses that he is not merely an + auctioneer, but has in him elements of the human being. He can + wink with anyone, and is dressed in a snug-brown suit, with a + perfectly unbuttoned waistcoat, a low, turned down collar, and + small black and white sailor knot tie. While he is settling + his papers, the HILLCRISTS settle themselves tensely. CHLOE + has drunk her water and leaned back again, with the smelling + salts to her nose. ROLF leans forward in the seat beside her, + looking sideways at JILL. A SOLICITOR, with a grey beard, has + joined the AUCTIONEER, at his table. + +AUCTIONEER. [Tapping the table] Sorry to disappoint you, +gentlemen, but I've only one property to offer you to-day, No. 1, +The Centry, Deepwater. The second on the particulars has been +withdrawn. The third that's Bidcot, desirable freehold mansion and +farmlands in the Parish of Kenway--we shall have to deal with next +week. I shall be happy to sell it you then with out reservation. +[He looks again through the particulars in his hand, giving the +audience time to readjust themselves to his statements] Now, +gen'lemen, as I say, I've only the one property to sell. Freehold +No. 1--all that very desirable corn and stock-rearing and parklike +residential land known as the Centry, Deepwater, unique property an +A.1. chance to an A.1. audience. [With his smile] Ought to make +the price of the three we thought we had. Now you won't mind +listening to the conditions of sale; Mr. Blinkard'll read 'em, and +they won't wirry you, they're very short. + + [He sits down and gives two little tape on the table.] + + [The SOLICITOR rises and reads the conditions of sale in a + voice which no one practically can hear. Just as he begins to + read these conditions of sale, CHARLES HORNBLOWER enters at + back. He stands a moment, glancing round at the HILLCRIST and + twirling his moustache, then moves along to his wife and + touches her.] + +CHARLES. Chloe, aren't you well? + + [In the start which she gives, her face is fully revealed to + the audience.] + +CHARLES. Come along, out of the way of these people. + + [He jerks his head towards the HILLCRISTS. CHLOE gives a swift + look down to the stage Right of the audience.] + +CHLOE. No; I'm all right; it's hotter there. + +CHARLES. [To ROLF] Well, look after her--I must go back. + + [ROLF node. CHARLES, slides bank to the door, with a glance at + the HILLCRISTS, of whom MRS. HILLCRIST has been watching like a + lynx. He goes out, just as the SOLICITOR, finishing, sits + down.] + +AUCTIONEER. [Rising and tapping] Now, gen'lemen, it's not often a +piece of land like this comes into the market. What's that? [To a +friend in front of him] No better land in Deepwater--that's right, +Mr. Spicer. I know the village well, and a charming place it is; +perfect locality, to be sure. Now I don't want to wirry you by +singing the praises of this property; there it is--well-watered, +nicely timbered--no reservation of the timber, gen'lemen--no tenancy +to hold you up; free to do what you like with it to-morrow. You've +got a jewel of a site there, too; perfect position for a house. It +lies between the Duke's and Squire Hillcrist's--an emerald isle. +[With his smile] No allusion to Ireland, gen'lemen--perfect peace +in the Centry. Nothing like it in the county--a gen'leman's site, +and you don't get that offered you every day. [He looks down +towards HORNBLOWER, stage Left] Carries the mineral rights, and as +you know, perhaps, there's the very valuable Deepwater clay there. +What am I to start it at? Can I say three thousand? Well, anything +you like to give me. I'm sot particular. Come now, you've got more +time than me, I expect. Two hundred acres of first-rate grazin' and +cornland, with a site for a residence unequalled in the county; and +all the possibilities! Well, what shall I say? + + [Bid from SPICER.] + +Two thousand? [With his smile] That won't hurt you, Mr. Spicer. +Why, it's worth that to overlook the Duke. For two thousand? + + [Bid from HORNBLOWER, stage Left.] + +And five. Thank you, sir. Two thousand five hundred bid. + + [To a friend just below him.] + +Come, Mr. Sandy, don't scratch your head over it. + + [Bid from DAWKER, Stage Right.] + +And five. Three thousand bid for this desirable property. Why, +you'd think it wasn't desirable. Come along, gen'lemen. A little +spirit. + + [A alight pause.] + +JILL. Why can't I see the bids, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. The last was Dawker's. + +AUCTIONEER. For three thousand. [HORNBLOWER] Three thousand five +hundred? May I say--four? [A bid from the centre] No, I'm not +particular; I'll take hundreds. Three thousand six hundred bid. +[HORNBLOWER] And seven. Three thousand seven hundred, and---- + + [He pauses, quartering the audience.] + +JILL. Who was that, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Hornblower. It's the Duke in the centre. + +AUCTIONEER. Come, gen'lemen, don't keep me all day. Four thousand +may I say? [DAWKER] Thank you. We're beginning. And one? [A bid +from the centre] Four thousand one hundred. [HORNBLOWER] Four +thousand two hundred. May I have yours, sir? [To DAWKER] And +three. Four thousand three hundred bid. No such site in the +county, gen'lemen. I'm going to sell this land for what it's worth. +You can't bid too much for me. [He smiles] [HORNBLOWER] Four +thousand five hundred bid. [Bid from the centre] And six. [DAWKER] +And seven. [HORNBLOWER] And eight. Nine, may I say? [But the +centre has dried up] [DAWKER] And nine. [HORNBLOWER] Five +thousand. Five thousand bid. That's better; there's some spirit in +it. For five thousand. + + [He pauses while he speak& to the SOLICITOR] + +HILLCRIST. It's a duel now. + +AUCTIONEER. Now, gen'lemen, I'm not going to give this property +away. Five thousand bid. [DAWKER] And one. [HORNBLOWER] And two. +[DAWKER] And three. Five thousand three hundred bid. And five, +did you say, sir? [HORNBLOWER] Five thousand five hundred bid. + + [He looks at hip particulars.] + +JILL. [Rather agonised] Enemy, Dodo. + +AUCTIONEER. This chance may never come again. + + "How you'll regret it + If you don't get it," + +as the poet says. May I say five thousand six hundred, sir? +[DAWKER] Five thousand six hundred bid. [HORNBLOWER] And seven. +[DAWKER] And eight. For five thousand eight hundred pounds. We're +gettin' on, but we haven't got the value yet. + +[A slight pause, while he wipes his brow at the success of his own +efforts.] + +JILL. Us, Dodo? + + [HILLCRIST nods. JILL looks over at ROLF, whose face is + grimly set. CHLOE has never moved. MRS. HILLCRIST whispers to + her husband.] + +AUCTIONEER. Five thousand eight hundred bid. For five thousand +eight hundred. Come along, gen'lemen, come along. We're not +beaten. Thank you, sir. [HORNBLOWER] Five thousand nine hundred. +And--? [DAWKER] Six thousand. Six thousand bid. Six thousand +bid. For six thousand! The Centry--most desirable spot in the +county--going for the low price of six thousand. + +HILLCRIST. [Muttering] Low! Heavens! + +AUCTIONEER. Any advance on six thousand? Come, gen'lemen, we +haven't dried up? A little spirit. Six thousand? For six +thousand? For six thousand pounds? Very well, I'm selling. For +six thousand once--[He taps] For six thousand twice--[He taps]. + +JILL. [Low] Oh! we've got it! + +AUCTIONEER. And one, sir? [HORNBLOWER] Six thousand one hundred +bid. + + [The SOLICITOR touches his arm and says something, to which the + AUCTIONEER responds with a nod.] + +MRS. H. Blow your nose, Jack. + + [HILLCRIST blows his nose.] + +AUCTIONEER. For six thousand one hundred. [DAWKER] And two. +Thank you. [HORNBLOWER] And three. For six thousand three +hundred. [DAWKER] And four. For six thousand four hundred pounds. +This coveted property. For six thousand four hundred pounds. Why, +it's giving it away, gen'lemen. [A pause.] + +MRS. H. Giving! + +AUCTIONEER. Six thousand four hundred bid. [HORNBLOWER] And five. +[DAWKER] And six. [HORNBLOWER] And seven. [DAWKER] And eight. + + [A pause, during which, through the door Left, someone beckons + to the SOLICITOR, who rises and confers.] + +HILLCRIST. [Muttering] I've done if that doesn't get it. + +AUCTIONEER. For six thousand eight hundred. For six thousand eight +hundred-once--[He taps] twice--[He tape] For the last time. This +dominating site. [HORNBLOWER] And nine. Thank you. For six +thousand nine hundred. + + [HILLCRIST has taken out his handkerchief.] + +JILL. Oh! Dodo! + +MRS. H. [Quivering] Don't give in! + +AUCTIONEER. Seven thousand may I say? [DAWKER] Seven thousand. + +MRS. H. [Whispers] Keep it down; don't show him. + +AUCTIONEER. For seven-thousand--going for seven thousand--once-- +[Taps] twice [Taps] [HORNBLOWER] And one. Thank you, sir. + + [HILLCRIST blows his nose. JILL, with a choke, leans back in + her seat and folds her arms tightly on her chest. MRS. + HILLCRIST passes her handkerchief over her lips, sitting + perfectly still. HILLCRIST, too, is motionless.] + + [The AUCTIONEER, has paused, and is talking to the SOLICITOR, + who has returned to his seat.] + +MRS. H. Oh! Jack. + +JILL. Stick it, Dodo; stick it! + +AUCTIONEER. Now, gen'lemen, I have a bid of seven thousand one +hundred for the Centry. And I'm instructed to sell if I can't get +more. It's a fair price, but not a big price. [To his friend MR. +SPICER] A thumpin' price? [With his smile] Well, you're a judge +of thumpin', I admit. Now, who'll give me seven thousand two +hundred? What, no one? Well, I can't make you, gen'lemen. For +seven thousand one hundred. Once--[Taps] Twice--[Taps]. + + [JILL utters a little groan.] + +HILLCRIST. [Suddenly, in a queer voice] Two. + +AUCTIONEER. [Turning with surprise and looking up to receive +HILLCRIST'S nod] Thank you, sir. And two. Seven thousand two +hundred. [He screws himself round so as to command both HILLCRIST +and HORNBLOWER] May I have yours, sir? [HORNBLOWER] And three. +[HILLCRIST] And four. Seven thousand four hundred. For seven +thousand four hundred. [HORNBLOWER] Five. [HILLCRIST] Six. For +seven thousand six hundred. [A pause] Well, gen'lemen, this is. +better, but a record property shid fetch a record price. The +possibilities are enormous. [HORNBLOWER] Eight thousand did you +say, sir? Eight thousand. Going for eight thousand pounds. +[HILLCRIST] And one. [HORNBLOWER] And two. [HILLCRIST] And +three. [HORNBLOWER] And four. [HILLCRIST] And five. For eight +thousand five hundred. A wonderful property for eight thousand five +hundred. + +[He wipes his brow.] + +JILL. [Whispering] Oh, Dodo! + +MRS. H. That's enough, Jack, we must stop some time. + +AUCTIONEER. For eight thousand five hundred. Once--[Taps]--twice-- +[Taps] [HORNBLOWER] Six hundred. [HILLCRIST] Seven. May I have +yours, sir? [HORNBLOWER] Eight. + +HILLCRIST. Nine thousand. + + [MRS. HILLCRIST looks at him, biting her lips, but he is quite + absorbed.] + +AUCTIONEER. Nine thousand for this astounding property. Why, the +Duke would pay that if he realised he'd be overlooked. Now, Sir? +[To HORNBLOWER. No response]. Just a little raise on that. [No +response.] For nine thousand. The Centry, Deepwater, for nine +thousand. Once--[Taps] Twice----[Taps]. + +JILL. [Under her breath] Ours! + +A VOICE. [From far back in the centre] And five hundred. + +AUCTIONEER. [Surprised and throwing out his arms towards the voice] +And five hundred. For nine thousand five hundred. May I have +yours, sir? [He looks at HORNBLOWER. No response.] + + [The SOLICITOR speaks to him. MRS. H. [Whispering] It must + be the Duke again.] + +HILLCRIST. [Passing his hand over his brow] That's stopped him, +anyway. + +AUCTIONEER. [Looking at HILLCRIST] For nine thousand five hundred? +[HILLCRIST shakes his head.] Once more. The Centry, Deepwater, for +nine thousand five hundred. Once--[Taps] Twice--[Taps] [He pauses +and looks again at HORNBLOWER and HILLCRIST] For the last time--at +nine thousand five hundred. [Taps] [With a look towards the +bidder] Mr. Smalley. Well! [With great satisfaction] That's +that! No more to-day, gen'lemen. + + [The AUCTIONEER and SOLICITOR busy themselves. The room begins + to empty.] + +MRS. H. Smalley? Smalley? Is that the Duke's agent? Jack! + +HILLCRIST. [Coming out of a sort of coma, after the excitement he +has been going through] What! What! + +JILL. Oh, Dodo! How splendidly you stuck it! + +HILLCRIST. Phew! What a squeak! I was clean out of my depth. A +mercy the Duke chipped in again. + +MRS. H. [Looking at ROLF and CHLOE, who are standing up as if about +to go] Take care; they can hear you. Find DAWKER, Jack. + + [Below, the AUCTIONEER and SOLICITOR take up their papers, and + move out Left.] + + [HILLCRIST stretches himself, standing up, as if to throw off + the strain. The door behind is opened, and HORNBLOWER + appears.] + +HORNBLOWER. Ye ran me up a pretty price. Ye bid very pluckily, +Hillcrist. But ye didn't quite get my measure. + +HILLCRIST. Oh! It was my nine thousand the Duke capped. Thank +God, the Centry's gone to a gentleman! + +HORNBLOWER. The Duke? [He laughs] No, the Gentry's not gone to a +gentleman, nor to a fool. It's gone to me. + +HILLCRIST. What! + +HOUNBLOWER. I'm sorry for ye; ye're not fit to manage these things. +Well, it's a monstrous price, and I've had to pay it because of your +obstinacy. I shan't forget that when I come to build. + +HILLCRIST. D'you mean to say that bid was for you? + +HORNBLOWER. Of course I do. I told ye I was a bad man to be up +against. Perhaps ye'll believe me now. + +HILLCRIST. A dastardly trick! + +HORNBLOWER. [With venom] What did ye call it--a skin game? +Remember we're playin' a skin game, Hillcrist. + +HILLCRIST. [Clenching his fists] If we were younger men---- + +HORNBLOWER. Ay! 'Twouldn't Look pretty for us to be at fisticuffs. +We'll leave the fightin' to the young ones. [He glances at ROLF and +JILL; suddenly throwing out his finger at ROLF] No makin' up to +that young woman! I've watched ye. And as for you, missy, you +leave my boy alone. + +JILL. [With suppressed passion] Dodo, may I spit in his eye or +something? + +HILLCRIST. Sit down. + + [JILL sits down. He stands between her and HORNBLOWER.] + + [Yu've won this round, sir, by a foul blow. We shall see + whether you can take any advantage of it. I believe the law + can stop you ruining my property.] + +HORNBLOWER. Make your mind easy; it can't. I've got ye in a noose, +and I'm goin' to hang ye. + +MRS. H. [Suddenly] Mr. Hornblower, as you fight foul--so shall we. + +HILLCRIST. Amy! + +MRS. H. [Paying no attention] And it will not be foul play towards +you and yours. You are outside the pale. + +HORNBLOWER. That's just where I am, outside your pale all round ye. +Ye're not long for Deepwater, ma'am. Make your dispositions to go; +ye'll be out in six months, I prophesy. And good riddance to the +neighbourhood. [They are all down on the level now.] + +CHLOE. [Suddenly coming closer to MRS. HILLCRIST] Here are your +salts, thank you. Father, can't you----? + +HORNBLOWER. [Surprised] Can't I what? + +CHLOE. Can't you come to an arrangement? + +MRS. H. Just so, Mr. Hornblower. Can't you? + +HORNBLOWER. [Looking from one to the other] As we're speakin' out, +ma'am, it's your behaviour to my daughter-in-law--who's as good as +you--and better, to my thinking--that's more than half the reason +why I've bought this property. Ye've fair got my dander up. Now +it's no use to bandy words. It's very forgivin' of ye, Chloe, but +come along! + +MRS. H. Quite seriously, Mr. Hornblower, you had better come to an +arrangement. + +HORNBLOWER. Mrs. Hillcrist, ladies should keep to their own +business. + +MRS. H. I will. + +HILLCRIST. Amy, do leave it to us men. You young man [He speaks to +ROLF] do you support your father's trick this afternoon? + + [JILL looks round at ROLF, who tries to speak, when HORNBLOWER + breaks in.] + +HORNBLOWER. My trick? And what dye call it, to try and put me own +son against me? + +JILL. [To ROLF] Well? + +ROLF. I don't, but---- + +HORNBLOWER. Trick? Ye young cub, be quiet. Mr. Hillcrist had an +agent bid for him--I had an agent bid for me. Only his agent bid at +the beginnin', an' mine bid at the end. What's the trick in that? + +[He laughs.] + +HILLCRIST. Hopeless; we're in different worlds. + +HORNBLOWER. I wish to God we were! Come you, Chloe. And you, +Rolf, you follow. In six months I'll have those chimneys up, and me +lorries runnin' round ye. + +MRS. H. Mr. Hornblower, if you build---- + +HORNBLOWER. [Looking at MRS. HILLCRIST] Ye know--it's laughable. +Ye make me pay nine thousand five hundred for a bit o' 1and not +worth four, and ye think I'm not to get back on ye. I'm goin' on +with as little consideration as if ye were a family of blackbeetles. +Good afternoon! + +ROLF. Father! + +JILL. Oh, Dodo! He's obscene. + +HILLCRIST. Mr. Hornblower, my compliments. + + [HORNBLOWER with a stare at HILLCRIST'S half-smiling face, + takes CHLOE'S arm, and half drags her towards the door on the + Left. But there, in the opened doorway, are standing DAWKER + and a STRANGER. They move just out of the way of the exit, + looking at CHLOE, who sways and very nearly falls.] + +HORNBLOWER. Why! Chloe! What's the matter? + +CHLOE. I don't know; I'm not well to-day. + + [She pulls herself together with a great, effort.] + +MRS. H. [Who has exchanged a nod with DAWKER and the STRANGER] Mr. +Hornblower, you build at your peril. I warn you. + +HORNBLOWER. [Turning round to speak] Ye think yourself very cool +and very smart. But I doubt this is the first time ye've been up +against realities. Now, I've been up against them all my life. +Don't talk to me, ma'am, about peril and that sort of nonsense; it +makes no impression. Your husband called me pachydermatous. I +don't know Greek, and Latin, and all that, but I've looked it out in +the dictionary, and I find it means thick-skinned. And I'm none +the worse for that when I have to deal with folk like you. Good +afternoon. + + [He draws CHLOE forward, and they pass through the door, + followed quickly by ROLF.] + +MRS. H. Thank you; Dawker. + + [She moves up to DAWKER and the STRANGER, Left, and they + talk.] + +JILL. Dodo! It's awful! + +HILLCRIST. Well, there's nothing for it now but to smile and pay +up. Poor old home! It shall be his wash-pot. Over the Centry will +he cast his shoe. By Gad, Jill, I could cry! + +JILL. [Pointing] Look! Chloe's sitting down. She nearly fainted +just now. It's something to do with Dawker, Dodo, and that man with +him. Look at mother! Ask them! + +HILLCRIST. Dawker! + + [DAWKER comes to him, followed by MRS. HILLCRIST.] + +What's the mystery about young Mrs. Hornblower? + +DAWKER. No mystery. + +HILLCRIST. Well, what is it? + +MRS. H. You'd better not ask. + +HILLCRIST. I wish to know. + +MRS. H. Jill, go out and wait for us. + +JILL. Nonsense, mother! + +MRS. H. It's not for a girl to hear. + +JILL. Bosh! I read the papers every day. + +DAWKER. It's nothin' worse than you get there, anyway. + +MRS. H. Do you wish your daughter---- + +JILL. It's ridiculous, Dodo; you'd think I was mother at my age. + +MRS. H. I was not so proud of my knowledge. + +JILL. No, but you had it, dear. + +HILLCRIST. What is it----what is it? Come over here, Dawker. + + [DAWKER goes to him, Right, and speaks in a low voice.] + +What! [Again DAWKER speaks in, a low voice.] + +Good God! + +MRS. H. Exactly! + +JILL. Poor thing--whatever it is! + +MRS. H. Poor thing? + +JILL. What went before, mother? + +MRS. H. It's what's coming after that matters; luckily. + +HILLCRIST. How do you know this? + +DAWKER. My friend here [He points to the STRANGER] was one of the +agents. + +HILLCRIST. It's shocking. I'm sorry I heard it. + +MRS. H. I told you not to. + +HILLCRIST. Ask your friend to come here. + + [DAWKER beckons, and the STRANGER joins the group.] + +Are you sure of what you've said, sir? + +STRANGER. Perfectly. I remember her quite well; her name then +was---- + +HILLCRIST. I don't want to know, thank you. I'm truly sorry. I +wouldn't wish the knowledge of that about his womenfolk to my worst +enemy. This mustn't be spoken of. [JILL hugs his arm.] + +MRS. H. It will not be if Mr. Hornblower is wise. If he is not +wise, it must be spoken of. + +HILLCRIST. I say no, Amy. I won't have it. It's a dirty weapon. +Who touches pitch shall be defiled. + +MRS. H. Well, what weapons does he use against us? Don't be +quixotic. For all we can tell, they know it quite well already, and +if they don't they ought to. Anyway, to know this is our salvation, +and we must use it. + +JILL: [Sotto voce] Pitch! Dodo! Pitch! + +DAWKER. The threat's enough! J.P.--Chapel--Future member for the +constituency----. + +HILLCRIST. [A little more doubtfully] To use a piece of knowledge +about a woman--it's repugnant. I--I won't do it. + + [Mrs. H. If you had a son tricked into marrying such a woman, + would you wish to remain ignorant of it?] + +HILLCRIST. [Struck] I don't know--I don't know. + +MRS. H. At least, you'd like to be in a position to help him, if +you thought it necessary? + +HILLCRIST. Well--that perhaps. + +MRS. H. Then you agree that Mr. Hornblower at least should be told. +What he does with the knowledge is not our affair. + +HILLCRIST. [Half to the STRANGER and half to DAWKER] Do you realise +that an imputation of that kind may be ground for a criminal libel +action? + +STRANGER. Quite. But there's no shadow of doubt; not the faintest. +You saw her just now? + +HILLCRIST. I did. [Revolting again] No; I don't like it. + + [DAWKER has drawn the STRANGER a step or two away, and they + talk together.] + +MRS. H. [In a low voice] And the ruin of our home? You're +betraying your fathers, Jack. + +HILLCRIST. I can't bear bringing a woman into it. + +MRS. H. We don't. If anyone brings her in; it will be Hornblower +himself. + +HILLCRIST. We use her secret as a lever. + +MRS. H. I tell you quite plainly: I will only consent to holding my +tongue about her, if you agree to Hornblower being told. It's a +scandal to have a woman like that in the neighbourhood. + +JILL. Mother means that, father. + +HILLCRIST. Jill, keep quiet. This is a very bitter position. I +can't tell what to do. + +MRS. H. You must use this knowledge. You owe it to me--to us all. +You'll see that when you've thought it over. + +JILL. [Softly] Pitch, Dodo, pitch! + +MRS. H. [Furiously] Jill, be quiet! + +HILLCRIST. I was brought up never to hurt a woman. I can't do it, +Amy--I can't do it. I should never feel like a gentleman again. + +MRS. H. [Coldly] Oh! Very well. + +HILLCRIST. What d'you mean by that? + +MRS. H. I shall use the knowledge in my own way. + +HILLCRIST. [Staring at her] You would--against my wishes? + +MRS. H. I consider it my duty. + +HILLCRIST. If I agree to Hornblower being told---- + +MRS. H. That's all I want. + +HILLCRIST. It's the utmost I'll consent to, Amy; and don't let's +have any humbug about its being, morally necessary. We do it to +save our skins. + +MRS. H. I don't know what you mean by humbug? + +JILL. He means humbug; mother. + +HILLCRIST. It must stop at old Hornblower. Do you quite +understand? + +MRS. H. Quite. + +JILL. Will it stop? + +MRS. H. Jill, if you can't keep your impertinence to yourself---- + +HILLCRIST. Jill, come with me. + + [He turns towards door, Back.] + +JILL. I'm sorry, mother. Only it is a skin game, isn't it? + +MRS. H. You pride yourself on plain speech, Jill. I pride myself +on plain thought. You will thank me afterwards that I can see +realities. I know we are better people than these Hornblowers. +Here we are going to stay, and they--are not. + +JILL. [Looking at her with a sort of unwilling admiration] Mother, +you're wonderful! + +HILLCRIST. Jill! + +JILL. Coming, Dodo. + + [She turns and runs to the door. They go out.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST, with a long sigh, draws herself up, fine and + proud.] + +MRS. H. Dawker! [He comes to her.] + + [I shall send him a note to-night, and word it so that + he will be bound to come and see us to-marrow morning. Will + you be in the study just before eleven o'clock, with this + gentleman?] + +DAWKER. [Nodding] We're going to wire for his partner. I'll bring +him too. Can't make too sure. + + [She goes firmly up the steps and out.] + +DAWKER. [To the STRANGER, with a wink] The Squire's squeamish--too +much of a gentleman. But he don't count. The grey mare's all +right. You wire to Henry. I'm off to our solicitors. We'll make +that old rhinoceros sell us back the Centry at a decent price. +These Hornblowers--[Laying his finger on his nose] We've got 'em + + + CURTAIN + + + + + +SCENE II + + CHLOE's boudoir at half-past seven the same evening. A pretty + room. No pictures on the walls, but two mirrors. A screen and + a luxurious couch an the fireplace side, stage Left. A door + rather Right of Centre Back; opening inwards. A French window, + Right forward: A writing table, Right Back. Electric light + burning. + + CHLOE, in a tea-gown, is standing by the forward end of the + sofa, very still, and very pale. Her lips are parted, and her + large eyes stare straight before them as if seeing ghosts: The + door is opened noiselessly and a WOMAN'S face is seen. It + peers at CHLOE, vanishes, and the door is closed. CHLOE raises + her hands, covers her eyes with them, drops them with a quick + gesture, and looks round her. A knock. With a swift movement + she slides on to the sofa, and lies prostrate, with eyes + closed. + +CHLOE. [Feebly] Come in! + + [Her Maid enters; a trim, contained figure of uncertain years, + in a black dress, with the face which was peering in.] + +Yes, Anna? + +ANNA. Aren't you going in to dinner, ma'am? + +CHLOE. [With closed eyes] No. + +ANNA. Will you take anything here, ma'am? + +CHLOE. I'd like a biscuit and a glass of champagne. + + [The MAID, who is standing between sofa and door, smiles. + CHLOE, with a swift look, catches the smile.] + +Why do you smile? + +ANNA. Was I, ma'am? + +CHLOE. You know you were. [Fiercely] Are you paid to smile at me? + +ANNA. [Immovable] No, ma'am, Would you like some eau de Cologne on +your forehead? + +CHLOE. Yes.--No.--What's the good? [Clasping her forehead] My +headache won't go. + +ANNA. To keep lying down's the best thing for it. + +CHLOE. I have been--hours. + +ANNA. [With the smile] Yes, ma'am. + +CHLOE. [Gathering herself up on the sofa] Anna! Why do you do it? + +ANNA. Do what, ma'am? + +CHLOE. Spy on me. + +ANNA. I--never! I----! + +CHLOE. To spy! You're a fool, too. What is there to spy on? + +ANNA. Nothing, ma'am. Of course, if you're not satisfied with me, +I must give notice. Only--if I were spying, I should expect to have +notice given me. I've been accustomed to ladies who wouldn't stand +such a thing for a minute. + +CHLOE: [Intently] Well, you'll take a month's wages and go +tomorrow. And that's all, now. + + [ANNA inclines her head and goes out.] + + [CHLOE, with a sort of moan, turns over and buries her face in + the cushion.] + +CHLOE. [Sitting up] If I could see that man--if only--or Dawker--- + + [She springs up and goes to the door, but hesitates, and comes + back to the head of the sofa, as ROLF comes in. During this + scene the door is again opened stealthily, an inch or too.] + +ROLF. How's the head? + +CHLOE. Beastly, thanks. I'm not going into dinner. + +ROLF. Is there anything I can do for you? + +CHLOE. No, dear boy. [Suddenly looking at him] You don't want +this quarrel with the Hillcrists to go on, do you, Rolf? + +ROLF. No; I hate it. + +CHLOE. Well, I think I might be able to stop it. Will you slip +round to Dawker's--it's not five minutes--and ask him to come and +see me. + +ROLF. Father and Charlie wouldn't---- + +CHLOE. I know. But if he comes to the window here while you're at +dinner, I'll let him in, and out, and nobody'd know. + +ROLF. [Astonished] Yes, but what I mean how---- + +CHLOE. Don't ask me. It's worth the shot that's all. [Looking at +her wrist-watch] To this window at eight o'clock exactly. First +long window on the terrace, tell him. + +ROLF. It's nothing Charlie would mind? + +CHLOE. No; only I can't tell him--he and father are so mad about it +all. + +ROLF. If there's a real chance---- + +CHLOE. [Going to the window and opening it] This way, Rolf. If +you don't come back I shall know he's coming. Put your watch by +mine. [Looking at his watch] It's a minute fast, see! + +ROLF. Look here, Chloe + +CHLOE. Don't wait; go on. + + [She almost pushes him out through the window, closes it after + him, draws the curtains again, stands a minute, thinking hard; + goes to the bell and rings it; then, crossing to the writing + table, Right Back, she takes out a chemist's prescription.] + + [ANNA comes in.] + +CHLOE. I don't want that champagne. Take this to the chemist and +get him to make up some of these cachets quick, and bring them back +yourself. + +ANNA. Yes, ma'am; but you have some. + +CHLOE. They're too old; I've taken two--the strength's out of them. +Quick, please; I can't stand this head. + +ANNA. [Taking the prescription--with her smile] Yes, ma'am. It'll +take some time--you don't want me? + +CHLOE. No; I want the cachets. + + [ANNA goes out.] + + [CHLOE looks at her wrist-watch, goes to the writing-table, + which is old-fashioned, with a secret drawer, looks round her, + dives at the secret drawer, takes out a roll of notes and a + tissue paper parcel. She counts the notes: "Three hundred." + Slips them into her breast and unwraps the little parcel. It + contains pears. She slips them, too, into her dress, looks + round startled, replaces the drawer, and regains her place on + the sofa, lying prostrate as the door opens, and HORNBLOWER + comes in. She does not open her ages, and he stands looking at + her a moment before speaking.] + +HORNBLOWER. [Almost softly] How are ye feelin'. Chloe? + +CHLOE. Awful head! + +HORNBLOWER: Can ye attend a moment? I've had a note from that +woman. + + [CHLOE sits up.] + +HORNBLOWER. [Reading] "I have something of the utmost importance +to tell you in regard to your daughter-in-law. I shall be waiting +to see you at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning. The matter is so +utterly vital to the happiness of all your family, that I cannot +imagine you will fail to come." Now, what's the meaning of it? Is +it sheer impudence, or lunacy, or what? + +CHLOE. I don't know. + +HORNBLOWER. [Not unkindly] Chloe, if there's anything--ye'd better +tell me. Forewarned's forearmed. + +CHLOE. There's nothing; unless it's--[With a quick took at him,]-- +Unless it's that my father was a--a bankrupt. + +HORNBLOWER. Hech! Many a man's been that. Ye've never told us +much about your family. + +CHLOE. I wasn't very proud of him. + +HORNBLOWER. Well, ye're not responsible for your father. If that's +all, it's a relief. The bitter snobs! I'll remember it in the +account I've got with them. + +CHLOE. Father, don't say anything to Charlie; it'll only worry him +for nothing. + +HORNBLOWER. No, no, I'll not. If I went bankrupt, it'd upset +Chearlie, I've not a doubt. [He laugh. Looking at her shrewdly] +There's nothing else, before I answer her? + + [CHLOE shakes her head.] + +Ye're sure? + +CHLOE. [With an efort] She may invent things, of course. + +HORNBLOWER. [Lost in his feud feeling] Ah! but there's such a +thing as the laws o' slander. If they play pranks, I'll have them +up for it. + +CHLOE. [Timidly] Couldn't you stop this quarrel; father? You said +it was on my account. But I don't want to know them. And they do +love their old home. I like the girl. You don't really need to +build just there, do you? Couldn't you stop it? Do! + +HORNBLOWER. Stop it? Now I've bought? Na, no! The snobs defied +me, and I'm going to show them. I hate the lot of them, and I hate +that little Dawker worst of all. + +CHLOE. He's only their agent. + +HORNBLOWER. He's a part of the whole dog-in-the-manger system that +stands in my way. Ye're a woman, and ye don't understand these +things. Ye wouldn't believe the struggle I've had to make my money +and get my position. These county folk talk soft sawder, but to get +anything from them's like gettin' butter out of a dog's mouth. If +they could drive me out of here by fair means or foul, would they +hesitate a moment? Not they! See what they've made me pay; and +look at this letter. Selfish, mean lot o' hypocrites! + +CHLOE. But they didn't begin the quarrel. + +HORNBLOWER. Not openly; but underneath they did--that's their way. +They began it by thwartin' me here and there and everywhere, just +because I've come into me own a bit later than they did. I gave 'em +their chance, and they wouldn't take it. Well, I'll show 'em what a +man like me can do when he sets his mind to it. I'll not leave much +skin on them. + + [In the intensity of his feeling he has lost sight of her face, + alive with a sort of agony of doubt, whether to plead with him + further, or what to do. Then, with a swift glance at her + wristwatch, she falls back on the sofa and closes her eyes.] + +It'll give me a power of enjoyment seein' me chimneys go up in front +of their windies. That was a bonnie thought--that last bid o' mine. +He'd got that roused up, I believe, he, never would a' stopped. +[Looking at her] I forgot your head. Well, well, ye'll be best +tryin' quiet. [The gong sounds.] Shall we send ye something in +from dinner? + +CHLOE. No; I'll try to sleep. Please tell them I don't want to be +disturbed. + +HORNBLOWER. All right. I'll just answer this note. + + [He sits down at her writing-table.] + + [CHLOE starts up from the sofa feverishly, looking at her + watch, at the window, at her watch; then softly crosses to the + window and opens it.] + +HORNBLOWER. [Finishing] Listen! [He turns round towards the sofa] +Hallo! Where are ye? + +CHLOE. [At the window] It's so hot. + +HORNBLOWER. Here's what I've said: + + "MADAM,--You can tell me nothing of my daughter-in-law which + can affect the happiness of my family. I regard your note as + an impertinence, and I shall not be with you at eleven o'clock + to-morrow morning. + + "Yours truly----" + +CHLOE. [With a suffering movement of her head] Oh!--Well!--[The +gong is touched a second time.] + +HORNBLOWER. [Crossing to the door] Lie ye down, and get a sleep. +I'll tell them not to disturb ye; and I hope ye'll be all right to- +morrow. Good-night, Chloe. + +CHLOE. Good-night. [He goes out.] + + [After a feverish turn or two, CHLOE returns to the open window + and waits there, half screened by the curtains. The door is + opened inch by inch, and ANNA'S head peers round. Seeing where + CHLOE is, she slips in and passes behind the screen, Left. + Suddenly CHLOE backs in from the window.] + +CHLOE. [In a low voice] Come in. + + [She darts to the door and locks it.] + + [DAWKER has come in through the window and stands regarding her + with a half smile.] + +DAWKER. Well, young woman, what do you want of me? + + [In the presence of this man of her own class, there comes a + distinct change in CHLOE'S voice and manner; a sort of frank + commonness, adapted to the man she is dealing with, but she + keeps her voice low.] + +CHLOE. You're making a mistake, you know. + +DAWKER. [With a broad grin] No. I've got a memory for faces. + +CHLOE. I say you are. + +DAWKER. [Turning to go] If that's all, you needn't have troubled +me to come. + +CHLOE. No. Don't go! [With a faint smile] You are playing a game +with me. Aren't you ashamed? What harm have I done you? Do you +call this cricket? + +DAWKER. No, my girl--business. + +CHLOE. [Bitterly] What have I to do with this quarrel? I couldn't +help their falling out. + +DAWKER. That's your misfortune. + +CHLOE. [Clasping her hands] You're a cruel fellow if you can spoil +a woman's life who never did you an ounce of harm. + +DAWKER. So they don't know about you. That's all right. Now, look +here, I serve my employer. But I'm flesh and blood, too, and I +always give as good as I get. I hate this family of yours. There's +no name too bad for 'em to call me this last month, and no looks too +black to give me. I tell you frankly, I hate. + +CHLOE. There's good in them same as in you. + +DAWKER. [With a grin] There's no good Hornblower but a dead +Hornblower. + +CHLOE. But--but Im not one. + +DAWKER. You'll be the mother of some, I shouldn't wonder. + +CHLOE. [Stretching out her hand-pathetically] Oh! leave me alone, +do! I'm happy here. Be a sport! Be a sport! + +DAWKER. [Disconcerted for a second] You can't get at me, so don't +try it on. + +CHLOE. I had such a bad time in old days. + + [DAWKER shakes his head; his grin has disappeared and his face + is like wood.] + +CHLOE. [Panting] Ah! do! You might! You've been fond of some +woman, I suppose. Think of her! + +DAWKER. [Decisively] It won't do, Mrs. Chloe. You're a pawn in +the game, and I'm going to use you. + +CHLOE. [Despairingly] What is it to you? [With a sudden touch of +the tigress] Look here! Don't you make an enemy, of me. I haven't +dragged through hell for nothing. Women like me can bite, I tell +you. + +DAWKER. That's better. I'd rather have a woman threaten than +whine, any day. Threaten away! You'll let 'em know that you met me +in the Promenade one night. Of course you'll let 'em know that, +won't you?--or that---- + +CHLOE. Be quiet! Oh! Be quiet! [Taking from her bosom the notes +and the pearls] Look! There's my savings--there's all I've got! +The pearls'll fetch nearly a thousand. [Holding it out to him] +Take it, and drop me out--won't you? Won't you? + +DAWKER. [Passing his tongue over his lips with a hard little laugh] +You mistake your man, missis. I'm a plain dog, if you like, but I'm +faithful, and I hold fast. Don't try those games on me. + +CHLOE. [Losing control] You're a beast!--a beast! a cruel, +cowardly beast! And how dare you bribe that woman here to spy on +me? Oh! yes, you do; you know you do. If you drove me mad, you +wouldn't care. You beast! + +DAWKER. Now, don't carry on! That won't help you. + +CHLOE. What d'you call it--to dog a woman down like this, just +because you happen to have a quarrel with a man? + +DAWKER. Who made the quarrel? Not me, missis. You ought to know +that in a row it's the weak and helpless--we won't say the innocent- +that get it in the neck. That can't be helped. + +CHLOE. [Regarding him intently] I hope your mother or your sister, +if you've got any, may go through what I'm going through ever since +you got on my track. I hope they'll know what fear means. I hope +they'll love and find out that it's hanging on a thread, and--and-- +Oh! you coward, you persecuting coward! Call yourself a man! + +DAWKER. [With his grin] Ah! You look quite pretty like that. By +George! you're a handsome woman when you're roused. + + [CHLOE'S passion fades out as quickly as it blazed up. She + sinks down on the sofa, shudders, looks here and there, and + then for a moment up at him.] + +CHLOE. Is there anything you'll take, not to spoil my life? +[Clasping her hands on her breast; under her breath] Me? + +DAWKER. [Wiping his brow] By God! That's an offer. [He recoils +towards the window] You--you touched me there. Look here! I've +got to use you and I'm going to use you, but I'll do my best to let +you down as easy as I can. No, I don't want anything you can give +me--that is--[He wipes his brow again] I'd like it--but I won't +take it. + + [CHLOE buries her face in her hands.] + +There! Keep your pecker up; don't cry. Good-night! [He goes +through the window.] + +CHLOE. [Springing up] Ugh! Rat in a trap! Rat----! + + [She stands listening; flies to the door, unlocks it, and, + going back to the sofa, lies down and doses her eyes. CHARLES + comes in very quietly and stands over her, looking to see if + she is asleep. She opens her eyes.] + +CHARLES. Well, Clo! Had a sleep, old girl? + +CHLOE. Ye-es. + +CHARLES. [Sitting on the arm of the sofa and caressing her] Feel +better, dear? + +CHLOE. Yes, better, Charlie. + +CHARLES. That's right. Would you like some soup? + +CHLOE. [With a shudder] No. + +CHARLES. I say-what gives you these heads? You've been very on and +off all this last month. + +CHLOE. I don't know. Except that--except that I am going to have a +child, Charlie. + +CHARLES. After all! By Jove! Sure? + +CHLOE. [Nodding] Are you glad? + +CHARLES. Well--I suppose I am. The guv'nor will be mighty pleased, +anyway. + +CHLOE. Don't tell him--yet. + +CHARLES. All right! [Bending over and drawing her to him] My poor +girl, I'm so sorry you're seedy. Give us a kiss. + + [CHLOE puts up her face and kisses him passionately.] + +I say, you're like fire. You're not feverish? + + +CHLOE. [With a laugh] It's a wonder if I'm not. Charlie, are you +happy with me? + +CHARLES. What do you think? + +CHLOE. [Leaning against him] You wouldn't easily believe things +against me, would you? + +CHARLES. What! Thinking of those Hillcrists? What the hell that +woman means by her attitude towards you--When I saw her there to- +day, I had all my work cut out not to go up and give her a bit of my +mind. + +CHLOE. [Watching him stealthily] It's not good for me, now I'm +like this. It's upsetting me, Charlie. + +CHARLES. Yes; and we won't forget. We'll make 'em pay for it. + +CHLOE. It's wretched in a little place like this. I say, must you +go on spoiling their home? + +CHARLES. The woman cuts you and insults you. That's enough for me. + +CHLOE. [Timidly] Let her. I don't care; I can't bear feeling +enemies about, Charlie, I--get nervous--I---- + +CHARLES. My dear girl! What is it? + + [He looks at her intently.] + +CHLOE. I suppose it's--being like this. [Suddenly] But, Charlie, +do stop it for my sake. Do, do! + +CHARLES. [Patting her arm] Come, come; I say, Chloe! You're +making mountains. See things in proportion. Father's paid nine +thousand five hundred to get the better of those people, and you +want him to chuck it away to save a woman who's insulted you. +That's not sense, and it's not business. Have some pride. + +CHLOE. [Breathless] I've got no pride, Charlie. I want to be +quiet--that's all. + +CHARLES. Well, if the row gets on your nerves, I can take you to +the sea. But you ought to enjoy a fight with people like that. + +CHLOE. [With calculated bitterness] No, it's nothing, of course-- +what I want. + +CHARLES. Hello! Hello! You are on the jump! + +CHLOE. If you want me to be a good wife to you, make father stop +it. + +CHARLES. [Standing up] Now, look here, Chloe, what's behind this? + +CHLOE. [Faintly] Behind? + +CHARLES. You're carrying on as if--as if you were really scared! +We've got these people: We'll have them out of Deepwater in six +months. It's absolute ruination to their beastly old house; we'll +put the chimneys on the very edge, not three hundred yards off, and +our smoke'll be drifting over them half the time. You won't have +this confounded stuck-up woman here much longer. And then we can +really go ahead and take our proper place. So long as she's here, +we shall never do that. We've only to drive on now as fast as we +can. + +CHLOE. [With a gesture] I see. + +CHARLES. [Again looking at her] If you go on like this, you know, +I shall begin to think there's something you---- + +CHLOE [softly] Charlie! [He comes to her.] Love me! + +CHARLES. [Embracing her] There, old girl! I know women are funny +at these times. You want a good night, that's all. + +CHLOE. You haven't finished dinner, have you? Go back, and I'll go +to bed quite soon. Charlie, don't stop loving me. + +CHARLES. Stop? Not much. + + [While he is again embracing her, ANNA steals from behind the + screen to the door, opens it noiselessly, and passes through, + but it clicks as she shuts it.] + +CHLOE. [Starting violently] Oh-h! + + [He comes to her.] + +CHARLES. What is it? What is it? You are nervy, my dear. + +CHLOE. [Looking round with a little laugh] I don't know. Go on, +Charlie. I'll be all right when this head's gone. + +CHARLES. [Stroking her forehead and, looking at her doubtfully] +You go to bed; I won't be late coming up. + + [He turn, and goes, blowing a kiss from the doorway. When he + is gone, CHLOE gets up and stands in precisely the attitude in + which she stood at the beginning of the Act, thinking, and + thinking. And the door is opened, and the face of the MAID + peers round at her.] + + + CURTAIN + + + + +ACT III + + +SCENE I + + HILLCRIST'S study next morning. + + JILL coming from Left, looks in at the open French window. + +JILL. [Speaking to ROLF, invisible] Come in here. There's no one. + + [She goes in. ROLF joins her, coming from the garden.] + +ROLF. Jill, I just wanted to say--Need we? + + [JILL. nodes.] + +Seeing you yesterday--it did seem rotten. + +JILL. We didn't begin it. + +ROLF. No; but you don't understand. If you'd made yourself, as +father has---- + +JILL. I hope I should be sorry. + +ROLF. [Reproachfully] That isn't like you. Really he can't help +thinking he's a public benefactor. + +JILL. And we can't help thinking he's a pig. Sorry! + +ROLF. If the survival of the fittest is right---- + +JILL. He may be fitter, but he's not going to survive. + +ROLF. [Distracted] It looks like it, though. + +JILL. Is that all you came to say? + +ROLF. Suppose we joined, couldn't we stop it? + +JILL. I don't feel like joining. + +ROLF. We did shake hands. + +JILL. One can't fight and not grow bitter. + +ROLF. I don't feel bitter. + +JILL. Wait; you'll feel it soon enough. + +ROLF. Why? [Attentively] About Chloe? I do think your mother's +manner to her is---- + +JILL. Well? + +ROLF. Snobbish. [JILL laughs.] +She may not be your class; and that's just why it's +snobbish. + +JILL. I think you'd better shut up. + +ROLF. What my father said was true; your mother's rudeness to her +that day she came here, has made both him and Charlie ever so much +more bitter. + + [JILL whistles the Habanera from "Carmen."] + + [Staring at her, rather angrily] + +Is it a whistling matter? + +JILL. No. + +ROLF. I suppose you want me to go? + +JILL. Yes. + +ROLF. All right. Aren't we ever going to be friends again? + +JILL. [Looking steadily at him] I don't expect so. + +ROLF. That's very-horrible. + +JILL. Lots of horrible things in the world. + +ROLF. It's our business to make them fewer, Jill. + +JILL. [Fiercely] Don't be moral. + +ROLF. [Hurt] That's the last thing I want to be.--I only want to +be friendly. + +JILL. Better be real first. + +ROLF. From the big point of view---- + +JILL. There isn't any. We're all out, for our own. And why not? + +ROLF. By jove, you have got---- + +JILL. Cynical? Your father's motto--"Every man for himself." +That's the winner--hands down. Goodbye! + +ROLF. Jill! Jill! + +JILL. [Putting her hands behind her back, hums]-- + "If auld acquaintance be forgot + And days of auld lang syne"---- + +ROLF. Don't! + + [With a pained gesture he goes out towards Left, through the + French window.] + + [JILL, who has broken off the song, stands with her hands + clenched and her lips quivering.] + + [FELLOWS enters Left.] + +FELLOWS. Mr. Dawker, Miss, and two gentlemen. + +JILL. Let the three gentlemen in, and me out. + + [She passes him and goes out Left. And immediately. DAWKER + and the two STRANGERS come in.] + +FELLOWS. I'll inform Mrs. Hillcrist, sir. The Squire is on his +rounds. [He goes out Left.] + + [The THREE MEN gather in a discreet knot at the big bureau, + having glanced at the two doors and the open French window.] + +DAWKER. Now this may come into Court, you know. If there's a screw +loose anywhere, better mention it. [To SECOND STRANGE] You knew +her personally? + +SECOND S. What do you think? I don't, take girls on trust for that +sort of job. She came to us highly recommended, too; and did her +work very well. It was a double stunt--to make sure--wasn't it, +George? + +FIRST S. Yes; we paid her for the two visits. + +SECOND S. I should know her in a minute; striking looking girl; had +something in her face. Daresay she'd seen hard times. + +FIRST S. We don't want publicity. + +DAWKER. Not Likely. The threat'll do it; but the stakes are heavy +--and the man's a slugger; we must be able to push it home. If you +can both swear to her, it'll do the trick. + +SECOND S. And about--I mean, we're losing time, you know, coming +down here. + +DAWKER. [With a nod at FIRST STRANGER] George here knows me. +That'll be all right. I'll guarantee it well worth your while. + +SECOND S. I don't want to do the girl harm, if she's married. + +DAWKER. No, no; nobody wants to hurt her. We just want a cinch on +this fellow till he squeals. + + [They separate a little as MRS. HILLCRIST enters from Right.] + +DAWKER. Good morning, ma'am. My friend's partner. Hornblower +coming? + +MRS. H. At eleven. I had to send up a second note, Dawker. + +DAWKER. Squire not in? + +MRS. H. I haven't told him. + +DAWKER. [Nodding] Our friends might go in here [Pointing Right] +and we can use 'em as the want 'em. + +MRS. H. [To the STRANGERS] Will you make yourselves comfortable? + + [She holds the door open, and they pass her into the room, + Right.] + +DAWKER. [Showing document] I've had this drawn and engrossed. +Pretty sharp work. Conveys the Centry, and Longmeadow; to the +Squire at four thousand five hundred: Now, ma'am, suppose Hornblower +puts his hand to that, hell have been done in the eye, and six +thousand all told out o' pocket.--You'll have a very nasty neighbour +here. + +MRS. H. But we shall still have the power to disclose that secret +at any time. + +DAWKER. Yeh! But things might happen here you could never bring +home to him. You can't trust a man like that. He isn't goin' to +forgive me, I know. + +MRS. H. [Regarding him keenly] But if he signs, we couldn't +honourably---- + +DAWKER. No, ma'am, you couldn't; and I'm sure I don't want to do +that girl a hurt. I just mention it because, of course, you can't +guarantee that it doesn't get out. + +MRS. H. Not absolutely, I suppose. + + [A look passes between them, which neither of them has quite + sanctioned.] + + [There's his car. It always seems to make more noise than any + other.] + +DAWKER. He'll kick and flounder--but you leave him to ask what you +want, ma'am; don't mention this [He puts the deed back into his +pocket]. The Centry's no mortal good to him if he's not going to +put up works; I should say he'd be glad to save what he can. + + [MRS. HILLCRIST inclines her head. FELLOWS enters Left.] + +FELLOWS. [Apologetically] Mr. Hornblower, ma'am; by appointment, +he says. + +MRS. H. Quite right, Fellows. + + [HORNBLOWER comes in, and FELLOWS goes out.] + +HORNBLOWER. [Without salutation] I've come to ask ye point bleak +what ye mean by writing me these letters. [He takes out two +letters.] And we'll discus it in the presence of nobody, if ye, +please. + +MRS. H. Mr. Dawker knows all that I know, and more. + +HORNBLOWER. Does he? Very well! Your second note says that my +daughter-in-law has lied to me. Well, I've brought her, and what +ye've got to say--if it's not just a trick to see me again--ye'll +say to her face. [He takes a step towards the window.] + +MRS. H. Mr. Hornblower, you had better, decide that after hearing +what it is--we shall be quite ready to repeat it in her presence; +but we want to do as little harm as possible. + +HORNBLOWER. [Stopping] Oh! ye do! Well, what lies have ye been +hearin'? Or what have ye made up? You and Mr. Dawker? Of course +ye know there's a law of libel and slander. I'm, not the man to +stop at that. + +MRS. H. [Calmly] Are you familiar with the law of divorce, Mr. +Hornblower? + +HORNBLOWER. [Taken aback] No, I'm not. That is-----. + +MRS. H. Well, you know that misconduct is required. And I suppose +you've heard that cases are arranged. + +HORNBLOWER. I know it's all very shocking--what about it? + +MRS. H. When cases are arranged, Mr. Hornblower, the man who is to +be divorced often visits an hotel with a strange woman. I am +extremely sorry to say that your daughter-in-law, before her +marriage, was in the habit of being employed as such a woman. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye dreadful creature! + +DAWKER. [Quickly] All proved, up to the hilt! + +HORNBLOWER. I don't believe a word of it. Ye're lyin' to save your +skins. How dare ye tell me such monstrosities? Dawker, I'll have +ye in a criminal court. + +DAWKER. Rats! You saw a gent with me yesterday? Well, he's +employed her. + +HORNBLOWER. A put-up job! Conspiracy! + +MRS. H. Go and get your daughter-in-law. + +HORNBLOWER. [With the first sensation of being in a net] It's a +foul shame--a lying slander! + +MRS. H. If so, it's easily disproved. Go and fetch her. + +HORNBLOWER. [Seeing them unmoved] I will. I don't believe a word +of it. + +MRS. H. I hope you are right. + + [HORNBLOWER goes out by the French window, DAWKER slips to the + door Right, opens it, arid speaks to those within. MRS. + HILLCRIST stands moistening her lips, and passim her + handkerchief over them. HORNBLOWER returns, preceding CHLOE, + strung up to hardness and defiance.] + +HORNBLOWER. Now then, let's have this impudent story torn to rags. + +CHLOE. What story? + +HORNBLOWER. That you, my dear, were a woman--it's too shockin--I +don't know how to tell ye---- + +CHLOE. Go on! + +HORNBLOWER. Were a woman that went with men, to get them their +divorce. + +CHLOE. Who says that? + +HORNBLOWER. That lady [Sneering] there, and her bull-terrier here. + +CHLOE. [Facing MRS. HILLCRIST] That's a charitable thing to say, +isn't it? + +MRS. H. Is it true? + +CHLOE. No. + +HORNBLOWER. [Furiously] There! I'll have ye both on your knees to +her! + +DAWKER. [Opening the door, Right] Come in. + + [The FIRST STRANGER comes in. CHLOE, with a visible effort, + turns to face him.] + +FIRST S. How do you do, Mrs. Vane? + +CHLOE. I don't know you. + +FIRST S. Your memory is bad, ma'am: You knew me yesterday well +enough. One day is not a long time, nor are three years. + +CHLOE. Who are you? + +FIRST S. Come, ma'am, come! The Caster case. + +CHLOE. I don't know you, I say. [To MRS. HILLCRIST] How can you +be so vile? + +FIRST S. Let me refresh your memory, ma'am. [Producing a notebook] +Just on three years ago; "Oct.3. To fee and expenses Mrs. Vane with +Mr. C----, Hotel Beaulieu, Twenty pounds. Oct. 10, Do., Twenty +pounds." [To HORNBLOWER] Would you like to glance at this book, +sir? You'll see they're genuine entries. + + [HORNBLOWER makes a motion to do so, but checks himself and + looks at CHLOE.] + +CHLOE. [Hysterically] It's all lies--lies! + +FIRST S. Come, ma'am, we wish you no harm. + +CHLOE. Take me away. I won't be treated like this. + +MRS. H. [In a low voice] Confess. + +CHLOE. Lies! + +HORNBLOWER. Were ye ever called Vane? + +CHLOE. No, never. + + [She makes a movement towards the window, but DAWKER is in the + way, and she halts. FIRST S. [Opening the door, Right] + Henry.] + + [The SECOND STRANGER comes in quickly. At sight of him CHLOE + throws up her hands, gasps, breaks down, stage Left, and stands + covering her face with her hands. It is so complete a + confession that HORNBLOWER stands staggered; and, taking out a + coloured handkerchief, wipes his brow.] + +DAWKER. Are you convinced? + +HORNBLOWER. Take those men away. + +DAWKER. If you're not satisfied, we can get other evidence; plenty. + +HORNBLOWER. [Looking at CHLOE] That's enough. Take them out. +Leave me alone with her. + + [DAWKER takes them out Right. MRS. HILLCRIST passes HORNBLOWER + and goes out at the window. HORNBLOWER moves down a step or + two towards CHLOE.] + +HORNBLOWER. My God! + +CHLOE. [With an outburst] Don't tell Charlie! Don't tell Charlie! + +HORNBLOWER. Chearlie! So, that was your manner of life. + + [CHLOE utters a moaning sound.] + +So that's what ye got out of by marryin' into my family! Shame on +ye, ye Godless thing! + +CHLOE. Don't tell Charlie! + +HORNBLOWER. And that's all ye can say for the wreck ye've wrought. +My family, my works, my future! How dared ye! + +CHLOE. If you'd been me!---- + +HORNBLOWER. An' these Hillcrists. The skin game of it! + +CHLOE. [Breathless] Father! + +HORNBLOWER. Don't call me that, woman! + +CHLOE. [Desperate] I'm going to have a child. + +HORNBLOWER. God! Ye are! + +CHLOE. Your grandchild. For the sake of it, do what these people +want; and don't tell anyone--DON'T TELL CHARLIE! + +HORNBLOWER. [Again wiping his forehead] A secret between us. I +don't know that I can keep it. It's horrible. Poor Chearlie! + +CHLOE. [Suddenly fierce] You must keep it, you shall! I won't +have him told. Don't make me desperate! I can be--I didn't live +that life for nothing. + +HORNBLOWER. [Staring at her resealed in a new light] Ay; ye look a +strange, wild woman, as I see ye. And we thought the world of ye! + +CHLOE. I love Charlie; I'm faithful to him. I can't live without +him. You'll never forgive me, I know; but Charlie----! [Stretching +out her hands.] + + [HORNBLOWER makes a bewildered gesture with his large hands.] + +HORNBLOWER. I'm all at sea here. Go out to the car and wait for +me. + + [CHLOE passes him and goes out, Left.] + +[Muttering to himself] So I'm down! Me enemies put their heels upon +me head! Ah! but we'll see yet! + + [He goes up to the window and beckons towards the Right.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST comes in.] + +What d'ye want for this secret? + +MRS. H. Nothing. + +HORNBLOWER. Indeed! Wonderful!--the trouble ye've taken for-- +nothing. + +MRS. H. If you harm us we shall harm you. Any use whatever of the +Centry. + +HORNBLOWER. For which ye made me pay nine thousand five hundred +pounds. + +MRS. H. We will buy it from you. + +HORNBLOWER. At what price? + +MRS. H. The Centry at the price Miss Muffins would have taken at +first, and Longmeadow at the price you--gave us--four thousand five +hundred altogether. + +HORNBLOWER. A fine price, and me six thousand out of pocket. Na, +no! I'll keep it and hold it over ye. Ye daren't tell this secret +so long as I've got it. + +MRS. H. No, Mr. Hornblower. On second thoughts, you must sell. +You broke your word over the Jackmans. We can't trust you. We +would rather have our place here ruined at once, than leave you the +power to ruin it as and when you like. You will sell us the Centry +and Longmeadow now, or you know what will happen. + +HORNBLOWER. [Writhing] I'll not. It's blackmail. + +MRS. H. Very well then! Go your own way and we'll go ours. There +is no witness to this conversation. + +HORNBLOWER. [Venomously] By heaven, ye're a clever woman. Will ye +swear by Almighty God that you and your family, and that agent of +yours, won't breathe a word of this shockin' thing to mortal soul. + +MRS. H. Yes, if you sell. + +HORNBLOWER. Where's Dawker? + +MRS. H. [Going to the door, Right] Mr. Dawker + + [DAWKER comes in.] + +HORNBLOWER. I suppose ye've got your iniquity ready. + + [DAWKER grins and produces the document.] + +It's mighty near conspiracy, this. Have ye got a Testament? + +MRS. H. My word will be enough, Mr. Hornblower. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye'll pardon me--I can't make it solemn enough for you. + +MRS. H. Very well; here is a Bible. + + [She takes a small Bible from the bookshelf.] + +DAWKER. [Spreading document on bureau] This is a short conveyance +of the Centry and Longmeadow--recites sale to you by Miss Mulling, +of the first, John Hillcrist of the second, and whereas you have +agreed for the sale to said John Hillcrist, for the sum of four +thousand five hundred pounds, in consideration of the said sum, +receipt whereof, you hereby acknowledge you do convey all that, etc. +Sign here. I'll witness. + +HORNBLOWER [To MRS. HILLCRIST] Take that Book in your hand, and +swear first. I swear by Almighty God never to breathe a word of +what I know. concerning Chloe Hornblower to any living soul. + +MRS. H. No, Mr. Hornblower; you will please sign first. We are not +in the habit of breaking our word. + + [HORNBLOWER after a furious look at them, seizes a pen, runs + his eye again over the deed, and signs, DAWKER witnessing.] + +To that oath, Mr. Hornblower, we shall add the words, "So long as +the Hornblower family do us no harm." + +HORNBLOWER. [With a snarl] Take it in your hands, both of ye, and +together swear. + +MRS. H. [Taking the Book] I swear that I will breathe no word of +what I know concerning Chloe Hornblower to any living soul, so long +as the Hornblower family do us no harm. + +DAWKER. I swear that too. + +MRS. H. I engage for my husband. + +HORNBLOWER. Where are those two fellows? + +DAWKER. Gone. It's no business of theirs. + +HORNBLOWER. It's no business of any of ye what has happened to a +woman in the past. Ye know that. Good-day! + + [He gives them a deadly look, and goes out, left, followed by + DAWKER.] + +MRS. H. [With her hand on the Deed] Safe! + + [HILLCRIST enters at the French window, followed by JILL.] + +[Holding up the Deed] Look! He's just gone! I told you it was +only necessary to use the threat. He caved in and signed this; we +are sworn to say nothing. We've beaten him. + + [HILLCRIST studies the Deed.] + +JILL. [Awed] We saw Chloe in the car. How did she take it, +mother? + +MRS. H. Denied, then broke down when she saw our witnesses. I'm +glad you were not here, Jack. + +JILL. [Suddenly] I shall go and see her. + +MRS. H. Jill, you will not; you don't know what she's done. + +JILL. I shall. She must be in an awful state. + +HILLCRIST. My dear, you can do her no good. + +JILL. I think I can, Dodo. + +MRS. H. You don't understand human nature. We're enemies for life +with those people. You're a little donkey if you think anything +else. + +JILL. I'm going, all the same. + +MRS. H. Jack, forbid her. + +HILLCRIST. [Lifting an eyebrow] Jill, be reasonable. + +JILL. Suppose I'd taken a knock like that, Dodo, I'd be glad of +friendliness from someone. + +MRS. H. You never could take a knock like that. + +JILL. You don't know what you can do till you try, mother. + +HILLCRIST. Let her go, Amy. Im sorry for that young woman. + +MRS. H. You'd be sorry for a man who picked your pocket, I believe. + +HILLCRIST. I certainly should! Deuced little he'd get out of it, +when I've paid for the Centry. + +MRS. H. [Bitterly] Much gratitude I get for saving you both our +home! + +JILL. [Disarmed] Oh! Mother, we are grateful. Dodo, show your +gratitude. + +HILLCRIST. Well, my dear, it's an intense relief. I'm not good at +showing my feelings, as you know. What d'you want me to do? Stand +on one leg and crow? + +JILL. Yes, Dodo, yes! Mother, hold him while I [Suddenly she +stops, and all the fun goes out of her] No! I can't--I can't help +thinking of her. + + + CURTAIN falls for a minute. + + + +SCENE II + + + When it rises again, the room is empty and dark, same for + moonlight coming in through the French window, which is open. + + The figure of CHLOE, in a black cloak, appears outside in the + moonlight; she peers in, moves past, comes bank, hesitatingly + enters. The cloak, fallen back, reveals a white evening dress; + and that magpie figure stands poised watchfully in the dim + light, then flaps unhappily Left and Right, as if she could not + keep still. Suddenly she stands listening. + +ROLF'S VOICE. [Outside] Chloe! Chloe! + + [He appears] + +CHLOE. [Going to the window] What are you doing here? + +ROLF. What are you? I only followed you. + +CHLOE. Go away. + +ROLF. What's the matter? Tell me! + +CHLOE. Go away, and don't say anything. Oh! The roses! [She has +put her nose into some roses in a bowl on a big stand close to the +window] Don't they smell lovely? + +ROLF. What did Jill want this afternoon? + +CHLOE. I'll tell you nothing. Go away! + +ROLF. I don't like leaving you here in this state. + +CHLOE. What state? I'm all right. Wait for me down in the drive, +if you want to. + + [ROLF starts to go, stops, looks at her, and does go. CHLOE, + with a little moaning sound, flutters again, magpie-like, up + and down, then stands by the window listening. Voices are + heard, Left. She darts out of the window and away to the + Right, as HILLCRIST and JILL come in. They have turned up the + electric light, and come down in frond of the fireplace, where + HILLCRIST sits in an armchair, and JILL on the arm of it. They + are in undress evening attire.] + +HILLCRIST. Now, tell me. + +JILL. There isn't much, Dodo. I was in an awful funk for fear I +should meet any of the others, and of course I did meet Rolf, but I +told him some lie, and he took me to her room-boudoir, they call it +--isn't boudoir a "dug-out" word? + +HILLCRIST. [Meditatively] The sulking room. Well? + +JILL. She was sitting like this. [She buries her chin in her +hands, wide her elbows on her knees] And she said in a sort of +fierce way: "What do you want?" And I said: "I'm awfully sorry, but +I thought you might like it." + +HILLCRIST. Well? + +JILL. She looked at me hard, and said: "I suppose you know all +about it." And I Said: "Only vaguely," because of course I don't. +And she said: "Well, it was decent of you to come." Dodo, she looks +like a lost soul. What has she done? + +HILLCRIST. She committed her real crime when she married young +Hornblower without telling him. She came out of a certain world to +do it. + +JILL. Oh! [Staring in front of her] Is it very awful in that +world, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. [Uneasy] I don't know, Jill. Some can stand it, I +suppose; some can't. I don't know which sort she is. + +JILL. One thing I'm sure of: she's awfully fond of Chearlie. + +HILLCRIST. That's bad; that's very bad. + +JILL. And she's frightened, horribly. I think she's desperate. + +HILLCRIST. Women like that are pretty tough, Jill; don't judge her +too much by your own feelings. + +JILL. No; only----Oh! it was beastly; and of course I dried up. + +HILLCRIST. [Feelingly] H'm! One always does. But perhaps it was +as well; you'd have been blundering in a dark passage. + +JILL. I just said: "Father and I feel awfully sorry; if there's +anything we can do----" + +HILLCRIST. That was risky, Jill. + +JILL. (Disconsolately) I had to say something. I'm glad I went, +anyway. I feel more human. + +HILLCRIST. We had to fight for our home. I should have felt like a +traitor if I hadn't. + +JILL. I'm not enjoying home tonight, Dodo. + +HILLCRIST. I never could hate proper; it's a confounded nuisance. + +JILL. Mother's fearfully' bucked, and Dawker's simply oozing +triumph. I don't trust him. Dodo; he's too--not pugilistic--the +other one with a pug-naceous. + +HILLCRIST. He is rather. + +JILL. I'm sure he wouldn't care tuppence if Chloe committed +suicide. + +HILLCRIST. [Rising uneasily] Nonsense! Nonsense! + +JILL. I wonder if mother would. + +HILLCRIST. [Turning his face towards the window] What's that? I +thought I heard--[Louder]--Is these anybody out there? + + [No answer. JILL, springs up and runs to the window.] + +JILL. You! + + [She dives through to the Right, and returns, holding CHLOE'S + hand and drawing her forward] + +Come in! It's only us! [To HILLCRIST] Dodo! + +HILLCRIST. [Flustered, but making a show of courtesy] Good +evening! Won't you sit down? + +JILL. Sit down; you're all shaky. + + [She makes CHLOE sit down in the armchair, out of which they + have risen, then locks the door, and closing the windows, draws + the curtains hastily over them.] + +HILLCRIST. [Awkward and expectant] Can I do anything for you? + +CHLOE. I couldn't bear it he's coming to ask you---- + +HILLCRIST. Who? + +CHLOE. My husband. [She draws in her breath with a long shudder, +then seem to seize her courage in her hands] I've got to be quick. +He keeps on asking--he knows there's something. + +HILLCRIST. Make your mind easy. We shan't tell him. + +CHLOE. [Appealing] Oh! that's not enough. Can't you tell him +something to put him back to thinking it's all right? I've done him +such a wrong. I didn't realise till after--I thought meeting him +was just a piece of wonderful good luck, after what I'd been +through. I'm not such a bad lot--not really. + + [She stops from the over-quivering of her lips. JILL, standing + beside the chair, strokes her shoulder. HILLCRIST stands very + still, painfully biting at a finger.] + +You see, my father went bankrupt, and I was in a shop---- + +HILLCRIST. [Soothingly, and to prevent disclosures] Yes, yes; Yes, +yes! + +CHLOE. I never gave a man away or did anything I was ashamed of--at +least--I mean, I had to make my living in all sorts of ways, and +then I met Charlie. + + [Again she stopped from the quivering of her lips.] + +JILL. It's all right. + +CHLOE. He thought I was respectable, and that was such a relief, +you can't think, so--so I let him. + +JILL. Dodo! It's awful + +HILLCRIST. It is! + +CHLOE. And after I married him, you see, I fell in love. If I had +before, perhaps I wouldn't have dared only, I don't know--you never +know, do you? When there's a straw going, you catch at it. + +JILL. Of course you do. + +CHLOE. And now, you see, I'm going to have a child. + +JILL. [Aghast] Oh! Are you? + +HILLCRIST. Good God! + +CHLOE. [Dully] I've been on hot bricks all this month, ever since +that day here. I knew it was in the wind. What gets in the wind +never gets out. [She rises and throws out her arms] Never! It +just blows here and there [Desolately] and then--blows home. [Her +voice changes to resentment] But I've paid for being a fool-- +'tisn't fun, that sort of life, I can tell you. I'm not ashamed and +repentant, and all that. If it wasn't for him! I'm afraid he'll +never forgive me; it's such a disgrace for him--and then, to have +his child! Being fond of him, I feel it much worse than anything I +ever felt, and that's saying a good bit. It is. + +JILL. [Energetically] Look here! He simply mustn't find out. + +CHLOE. That's it; but it's started, and he's bound to keep on +because he knows there's something. A man isn't going to be +satisfied when there's something he suspects about his wife, Charlie +wouldn't never. He's clever, and he's jealous; and he's coming +here. + + [She stops, and looks round wildly, listening.] + +JILL. Dodo, what can we say to put him clean off the scent? + +HILLCRIST. Anything--in reason. + +CHLOE. [Catching at this straw] You will! You see, I don't know +what I'll do. I've got soft, being looked after--he does love me. +And if he throws me off, I'll go under--that's all. + +HILLCRIST. Have you any suggestion? + +CHLOE. [Eagerly] The only thing is to tell him something positive, +something he'll believe, that's not too bad--like my having been a +lady clerk with those people who came here, and having been +dismissed on suspicion of taking money. I could get him to believe +that wasn't true. + +JILL. Yes; and it isn't--that's splendid! You'd be able to put +such conviction into it. Don't you think so, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Anything I can. I'm deeply sorry. + +CHLOE. Thank you. And don't say I've been here, will you? He's +very suspicious. You see, he knows that his father has re-sold that +land to you; that's what he can't make out--that, and my coming here +this morning; he knows something's being kept from him; and he +noticed that man with Dawker yesterday. And my maid's been spying +on me. It's in the air. He puts two and two together. But I've +told him there's nothing he need worry about; nothing that's true. + +HILLCRIST. What a coil! + +CHLOE. I'm very honest and careful about money. So he won't +believe that about me, and the old man wants to keep it from +Charlie, I know. + +HILLCRIST. That does seem the best way out. + +CHLOE. [With a touch of defiance] I'm a true wife to him. + +CHLOE. Of course we know that. + +HILLCRIST. It's all unspeakably sad. Deception's horribly against +the grain--but---- + +CHLOE. [Eagerly] When I deceived him, I'd have deceived God +Himself--I was so desperate. You've never been right down in the +mud. You can't understand what I've been through. + +HILLCRIST. Yes, Yes. I daresay I'd have done the same. I should +be the last to judge + + [CHLOE covers her eyes with her hands.] + +There, there! Cheer up! [He puts his hand on her arm.] + +CHLOE. [To herself] Darling Dodo! + +CHLOE. [Starting] There's somebody at the door. I must go; I must +go. + + [She runs to the window and slips through the curtains.] + + [The handle of the door is again turned.] + +JILL. [Dismayed] Oh! It's locked--I forgot. + + [She spring to the door, unlocks and opens it, while HILLCRIST + goes to the bureau and sits down.] + +It's all right, Fellows; I was only saying something rather +important. + +FELLOWS. [Coming in a step or two and closing the door behind him] +Certainly, Miss. Mr. Charles 'Ornblower is in the hall. Wants to +see you, sir, or Mrs. Hillcrist. + +JILL. What a bore! Can you see him, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. Er--yes. I suppose so. Show him in here, Fellows. + + [As FELLOWS goes out, JILL runs to the window, but has no time + to do more than adjust the curtains and spring over to stand by + her father, before CHARLES comes in. Though in evening + clothes, he is white arid disheveled for so spruce a young + mean.] + +CHARLES. Is my wife here? + +HILLCRIST. No, sir. + +CHARLES. Has she been? + +HILLCRIST. This morning, I believe, Jill? + +JILL. Yes, she came this morning. + +CHARLES. [staring at her] I know that--now, I mean? + +JILL. No. + + [HILLCRIST shakes has head.] + +CHARLES. Tell me what was said this morning. + +HILLCRIST. I was not here this morning. + +CHARLES. Don't try to put me off. I know too much. [To JILL] +You. + +JILL. Shall I, Dodo? + +HILLCRIST. No; I will. Won't you sit down? + +CHARLES. No. Go on. + +HILLCRIST. [Moistening his lips] It appears, Mr. Hornblower, that +my agent, Mr. Dawker-- + + [CHARLES, who is breathing hard, utters a sound of anger.] + +--that my agent happens to know a firm, who in old days employed +your wife. I should greatly prefer not to say any more, especially +as we don't believe the story. + +JILL. No; we don't. + +CHARLES. Go on! + +HILLCRIST. [Getting up] Come! If I were you, I should refuse to +listen to anything against my wife. + +CHARLES. Go on, I tell you. + +HILLCRIST. You insist? Well, they say there was some question +about the accounts, and your wife left them under a cloud. As I +told you, we don't believe it. + +CHARLES. [Passionately] Liars! + + [He makes a rush for the door.] + +HILLCRIST. [Starting] What did you say? + +JILL. [Catching his arm] Dodo! [Sotto voce] We are, you know. + +CHARLES. [Turning back to them] Why do you tell me that lie? When +I've just had the truth out of that little scoundrel! My wife's +been here; she put you up to it. + + [The face of CHLOE is seen transfixed between the curtains, + parted by her hands.] + +She--she put you up to it. Liar that she is--a living lie. For +three years a living lie! + + [HILLCRIST whose face alone is turned towards the curtains, + sees that listening face. His hand goes up from uncontrollable + emotion.] + +And hasn't now the pluck to tell me. I've done with her. I won't +own a child by such a woman. + + [With a little sighing sound CHLOE drops the curtain and + vanishes.] + +HILLCRIST. For God's sake, man, think of what you're saying. She's +in great distress. + +CHARLES. And what am I? + +JILL. She loves you, you know. + +CHARLES. Pretty love! That scoundrel Dawker told me--told me-- +Horrible! Horrible! + +HILLCRIST. I deeply regret that our quarrel should have brought +this about. + +CHARLES. [With intense bitterness] Yes, you've smashed my life. + + [Unseen by them, MRS. HILLCRIST has entered and stands by the + door, Left.] + +MRS. H. Would you have wished to live on in ignorance? [They all +turn to look at her.] + +CHARLES. [With a writhing movement] I don't know. But--you--you +did it. + +MRS. H. You shouldn't have attacked us. + +CHARLES. What did we do to you--compared with this? + +MRS. H. All you could. + +HILLCRIST. Enough, enough! What can we do to help you? + +CHARLES. Tell me where my wife is. + + [JILL draws the curtains apart--the window is open--JILL looks + out. They wait in silence.] + +JILL. We don't know. + +CHARLES. Then she was here? + +HILLCRIST. Yes, sir; and she heard you. + +CHARLES. All the better if she did. She knows how I feel. + +HILLCRIST. Brace up; be gentle with her. + +CHARLES. Gentle? A woman who--who---- + +HILLCRIST. A most unhappy creature. Come! + +CHARLES. Damn your sympathy! + + [He goes out into the moonlight, passing away.] + +JILL. Dodo, we ought to look for her; I'm awfully afraid. + +HILLCRIST. I saw her there--listening. With child! Who knows +where things end when they and begin? To the gravel pit, Jill; I'll +go to the pond. No, we'll go together. [They go out.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST comes down to the fireplace, rings the bell + and stands there, thinking. FELLOWS enters.] + +MRS. H. I want someone to go down to Mr. Dawker's. + +FELLOWS. Mr. Dawker is here, ma'am, waitin' to see you. + +MRS. H. Ask him to come in. Oh! and Fellows, you can tell the +Jackmans that they can go back to their cottage. + +FELLOWS. Very good, ma'am. [He goes out.] + + [MRS. HILLCRIST searches at the bureau, finds and takes out the + deed. DAWKERS comes in; he has the appearance of a man whose + temper has been badly ruffled.] + +MRS. H. Charles Hornblower--how did it happen? + +DAWKER. He came to me. I said I knew nothing. He wouldn't take +it; went for me, abused me up hill and down dale; said he knew +everything, and then he began to threaten me. Well, I lost my +temper, and I told him. + +MRS. H. That's very serious, Dawker, after our promise. My husband +is most upset. + +DAWKER. [Sullenly] It's not my fault, ma'am; he shouldn't have +threatened and goaded me on. Besides, it's got out that there's a +scandal; common talk in the village--not the facts, but quite enough +to cook their goose here. They'll have to go. Better have done +with it, anyway, than have enemies at your door. + +MRS. H. Perhaps; but--Oh! Dawker, take charge of this. [She hands +him the deed] These people are desperate--and--I'm sot sure of my +husband when his feelings are worked on. + + [The sound of a car stopping.] + +DAWKER. [At the window, looking to the Left] Hornblower's, I +think. Yes, he's getting out. + +MRS. H. [Bracing herself] You'd better wait, then. + +DAWKER. He mustn't give me any of his sauce; I've had enough. + + [The door is opened and HORNBLOWER enters, pressing so on the + heels of FELLOWS that the announcement of his name is lost.] + +HORNBLOWER. Give me that deed! Ye got it out of me by false +pretences and treachery. Ye swore that nothing should be heard of +this. Why! me own servants know. + +MRS. H. That has nothing to do with us. Your son came and wrenched +the knowledge out of Mr. DAWKER by abuse and threats; that is all. +You will kindly behave yourself here, or I shall ask that you be +shown out. + +HORNBLOWER. Give me that deed, I say! [He suddenly turns on +DAWKER] Ye little ruffian, I see it in your pocket. + + [The end indeed is projecting from DAWKER'S breast pocket.] + +DAWKER. [Seeing red] Now, look 'ere, 'Ornblower, I stood a deal +from your son, and I'll stand no more. + +HORNBLOWER. [To MRS. HILLCRIST] I'll ruin your place yet! [To +DAWKER] Ye give me that deed, or I'll throttle ye. + + [He closes on DAWKER, and makes a snatch at the deed. DAWKER, + springs at him, and the two stand swaying, trying for a grip at + each other's throats. MRS. HILLCRIST tries to cross and reach + the bell, but is shut off by their swaying struggle.] + + [Suddenly ROLF appears in the window, looks wildly at the + struggle, and seizes DAWKER'S hands, which have reached + HORNBLOWER'S throat. JILL, who is following, rushes up to him + and clutches his arm.] + +JILL. Rolf! All of you! Stop! Look! + + [DAWKER'S hand relaxes, and he is swung round. HORNBLOWER + staggers and recovers himself, gasping for breath. All turn to + the window, outside which in the moonlight HILLCRIST and + CHARLES HORNBLOWER have CHLOE'S motionless body in their arms.] + +In the gravel pit. She's just breathing; that's all. + +MRS. H. Bring her in. The brandy, Jill! + +HORNBLOWER. No. Take her to the car. Stand back, young woman! I +want no help from any of ye. Rolf--Chearlie--take her up. + + [They lift and bear her away, Left. JILL follows.] + +Hillcrist, ye've got me beaten and disgraced hereabouts, ye've +destroyed my son's married life, and ye've killed my grandchild. +I'm not staying in this cursed spot, but if ever I can do you or +yours a hurt, I will. + +DAWKER. [Muttering] That's right. Squeal and threaten. You began +it. + +HILLCRIST. Dawker, have the goodness! Hornblower, in the presence +of what may be death, with all my heart I'm sorry. + +HORNBLOWER. Ye hypocrite! + + [He passes them with a certain dignity, and goes out at the + window, following to his car.] + + [HILLCRIST who has stood for a moment stock-still, goes slowly + forward and sits in his swivel chair.] + +MRS. H. Dawker, please tell Fellows to telephone to Dr. Robinson to +go round to the Hornblowers at once. + + [DAWKER, fingering the deed, and with a noise that sounds like + "The cur!" goes out, Left.] + + [At the fireplace] + +Jack! Do you blame me? + +HILLCRIST. [Motionless] No. + +MRS. H. Or Dawker? He's done his best. + +HILLCRIST. No. + +MRS. H. [Approaching] What is it? + +HILLCRIST. Hypocrite! + + [JILL comes running in at the window.] + +JILL. Dodo, she's moved; she's spoken. It may not be so bad. + +HILLCRIST. Thank God for that! + + [FELLOWS enters, Left.] + +FELLOWS. The Jackmans, ma'am. + +HILLCRIST. Who? What's this? + + [The JACKMANS have entered, standing close to the door.] + +MRS. J. We're so glad we can go back, sir--ma'am, we just wanted to +thank you. + + [There is a silence. They see that they are not welcome.] + +Thank you kindly, sir. Good night, ma'am. + + [They shuffle out. ] + +HILLCRIST. I'd forgotten their existence. [He gets up] What is it +that gets loose when you begin a fight, and makes you what you think +you're not? What blinding evil! Begin as you may, it ends in this- +skin game! Skin game! + +JILL. [Rushing to him] It's not you, Dodo; it's not you, beloved +Dodo. + +HILLCRIST. It is me. For I am, or should be, master in this house! + +MRS. H. I don't understand. + +HILLCRIST. When we began this fight, we had clean hands--are they +clean' now? What's gentility worth if it can't stand fire? + + + [CURTAIN] + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FOURTH SERIES PLAYS BY GALSWORTHY *** + +************* This file should be named gpl4w10.txt or gpl4w10.zip ************* + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, gpl4w11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, gpl4w10a.txt + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/gpl4w10.zip b/old/gpl4w10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f82c22d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/gpl4w10.zip |