CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THE Joseph Whitmore Barry dramatic library THE GIFT OF TWO FRIENDS OF Cornell University 1934 DATE UUE - MAR £4 19 4 4 . lP=t^=4Sa=MJ_ Cornell University Library PR6015.A58A191907 The Cassills engagement, a comedy In four 3 1924 013 623 164 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013623164 Contents Hankin 1. The Oassilis engagement; a comedy. cl907 2. The charity tliat began at home; a comedy. cl907. 3. The return of" the prodigal; a comedy. C1907. 4. The two Mr. Wetherbys; a middle-class comedy. cl907. F^'ench's Internatioti^l Copyrighted (in England, her Colonies, and the United States) EditiQn of the Works of the Best Authors. Noi H6 H t CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT a comeD^ in iifour acts ■ ■' '- By , -, ' ■ ■ ■ ST, JOHN HANKIN AUXkOR OP- "'TftB T"Wo M'R. TyETHkRBVS," "tHE RETURN OF THE , ,, PRODlGALi*' "the CilAfelTY THAT BEGAN .AT HOME." Copyright, 1907, by SAivtCEL B;rknch CA13TIO?i :— Profeasionals 'and Atnatei^rs jtirfr Ij-ereby notified thkt this- play i^ fully copyrighted under the existing laws of the' United' St£^t'es,GbvernTnent, and nobpdy'is allowed to '. /', dathis iplay without iifst having- obtained written permission 'of Sabulel French, 24 West 22d St., ^ \ New Yorli Ciity, 0.,S. A. PRICE, is CENTS *i. NE-W yiORE SAk'tJ'E-L FRENCH FuptisHER ,' :■ 24 WEST 3&, street: London SAMtTEL FRENCH, iiT0: . S ' :'36' Southampton St; _< - , f STRAND- FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. : VOL. i. ■I Wn ;-•-!■ ■.'- ■'■ .t.Rlcljall.u, ; , . V.Tli* Hbn'aymaon T-Tfae ddvtfl for Scandal : .-e^.iio-D^'^ '1- - . , - ', '. VOL. ir. ^ -tfThe Stranmr ■ , • 10 Or^ndfatlisr WblUliMd M Lovn'i SVMBc* , JS !l£'a Okmntflr i )\ '- t is th. Hu'nf hB*ck ■ ■ : „l(l i)o;rCKaar de/Baun.' , . :-:yOL. in., 17 The I'oor'GaaUciiFiko/'- ■,lSfl«inle»-V- .,' ■... l»Cfaai1fliII ' SO Venica PrcNrrad » Plurro fiSQthfliro 1 VOL. IV. rvPrioBylS Cents each.-rBound Volumes.$1.25. VOL. XL ' 81 luKui Cciar VS7 Vicar of WaUMd 83 Leap Yeai" - •■ *( •,. '. 84 Tiia GatipaV- ' ^- , '■ ^fiTjbap^MiDffCioua,' ; . '86 Drunkard '87 Rob Rot , ■ ■' ' 88 Oeorffti BarDirell VOL. XU. 'fj- wTqgoniar '- SOSktiCbei Inlndla:'"^: . JllTwoFiiendi Z.\ ■ ^■/JaneShfira -■ 93 Cdrtlcan BrQt}|«rB ;•-''■ H Mind your ^ivn.BaBltteBs 95 Writing dq tUe' Wall- \ . B6Heii»,atXiw, ' ,- VOL. Xlfl. - 9^ Sotdter'i Paughtflr SHvDouglW 99 Marco Spad« ^^ 100 Natura'i Nobleman 101 Sii-danapalua ' ' ' 109 CrTiH«atlon, 103 The Robbers 104 Kalbarina and Petruclt{& , VOL, XIV. - ,: itiS Gama of Lo.vB 105 MidiuDliAer NIghVa 107 Krnaitine ^Dreom lOB Rag Ticker of Paris 109 Flying Dutcbmaa , llO'Hypocrlta in Tbereie , - \ 115 La Tour de VqbU . ; , VOU XV. n3Ir«]aiul'Ai.lUi 114 ^ea of Ice lU Seven ClerVt 116 Game of Life ' > . 117 Fofty ThleTCi 118 Bryan Boroibuie^ 1'19 Romance and R«allty « ISP UgQilDO ^ . VOt. XVL Wl The TeinpeBt , /' 123 The pilot '' ■-. 123 Garpeiiter or'Roneo 1 4 Klnfe" R,l'*l ~" , 12S Little Treaiure ISC Dombey and Son < ii",ParenU and.Guardlaoi--. I18JevreiB VOL. XVIL . IsgCamllle ' . lAQ Married Life iSrWenlockof Wenlbck ^, 132 Roae o/Etlrickvftle„, ■ 133-0aTfd Copperfield 134 Aline, or tiiu Rose of 12G Paulino .[KHl&riley 136 Jane«upua^/, ; ■\' ' . , -.vefL; -X-xiv. . ' ; ItfS Ynung New Sock ISO The Victims, ' '/' 187 RAmanua atunr Marriage 188Brrgftnd V* - . ■ 189 Poor .of NeVYoflc7 ' " 193 Ambrose Gwl'nrtt; -'^.^^ 19'l.Rikyrnobd an'd,Agne| . ^ 192 Gambler'! F«e ' ' ^ voi.. XXV.: , 198 Father and Sofi. 1S4 MAHaniellp 1)5- Sixteen String Jack ISS'ronlh'ful Queen ' 197 SkelfetQn Witnens 198 Inhkeeper.«f ^bboTlUa 199 Milled and hiBMtin - sot) Aladdin ' ' -. VOL. XXVL t}01>Ai2rietme^the Actraai • '-' Mfl.Uildlpe; V ' ^(1^ Jesse ^rpW^a^ '204 AsmodeuB •jiOS'Mdttnot's 206 BlMicbe of Br^ayWlor , ^^ AjUf^'i itanwin' ' 507 Viola ' ' o6.T'ri!L-»>- 16 yirjrinim ... . 36 King of tha Commoiu 97 LoDddii Aaiul-ahCa. SSiTha Rent Day SB'Tto GentlamabofVarona SO.Tha JealoHB Wife 81 Tha Bivali 89 Farfactlon -, ' vol" V. .[Debts ajl-A Ifan'.Wiay to Pay Old 84 Look, BefoW You bap ' SB.KlngJoha - < ^ 80 NervbUB Mao, ' 87 Damon and Pytb'M - 88 Clandestine Mamaga 89 William Tall ' ' 40 Day after tba Wedding .: * ' VOL. VIi- ^ 41^e«dthe PloaKh..., r 42 Rbipeojitiid Juliet ' , , 43 Faiidal Times 44 Charles the Twelfth 46 Tba Btlde 46 T^he Follies ofa Night 47 Iron Chest [Fair Lady 48, Faint- Heart Waver Won ' VOL. VIL , <» Road to Ruin i £Q Af acbeth El Temp* -',',' , -' V fcs Eyadpa I S3 Bertranv ; M Tba-Duenna 66'Muc1i Ado About Nothing 56 Tba Critic . VOL. yilL 61The ApoBtate HTweirtb Nljglit ' 69 Brutus' .-.-', 60S|;Apipn * "Co .- 41 Merd^ADt of Venice ^ - 42 end HpadsA Young Hearte 43 MoontalneeriP' [riage U Three Weeks after Mar- VOL. IX. •BLove'Vi '. 66A«YbQLlken ~«r Th« Kider Bfotbef- - 48 Wetneif . - ". - ■ :^ . iBBOIsIppus -■;■',. 70 Tovii and Conntr^ »1 King_Lear , : - aaBlinDe-^ls- ' > ^ VOL. X. 78 Henry VIH 74-Manied Ud-filngla isHeirry IV /~ , >- 76P«tilPry \ V 77 Guy Mannertpg 78 SweethsttrtB and Wives 79 Berioos Family SO 8be Stoii^B to Ooaqn^ ■\Fre)uh'' sSMndard Drama Continued on ^d page of Cffver.^ 144abld'prago6n»/; 1'' ybLrxTx. ■ USDred, qr the PIg mal '"^■" ■' '"-^»faipp Last Days of Pompeii 147 Esmeralda ,. 148 "Peter Wilkini" '1491 Ben the-Bopitewala ' v ISO Jonathan Bradford ' 1.51 Retribution IfiS Mineral! ,-: -VOt.'XX. 163 French- S] 154 Wejtt of Wish-ttm.'niBii 9^ Satan In Pavie ISS EtII OeniuB WS^BenBolt -' - l57-Sailor.of France ISSRedMask ' ' 169 .Life of an ActresB iSO^yadding Day VOL. xxxr. 241 MermWiy^ of Wlndior,'j 142 Maty^a Bl/thday; 943 Shandy Augulra' 244 WiidjOata ' . ' S4A Mict^l Erie 246e Tashton , Mrti M~^w3tt 216 Glance At >'ew York ' VOL, XXVIIL 21 T Inconstant ' 218 Uncle Tom^a Cabin 219 Guide to the StM;e-„ 320 Vttcran' i. , „ 931 MUler ofWew^Jersey 222'Da^k Hour before DawQ 223 'Midaum'rNlgltt^B^Dreatn 224 Aft and,Artifice ^-: -VOL/XXIX.^ ■- 225 Poor Yojing-Mftn " SQ6 OsBawrfttoi^ie^'Brown 221 Pope ofROtti» 228 Oliver Twtit - a'ifl PauV-rette ' ■• 230 Man ib the Iron Mask ' 231 KnlghtfltArra '■ , 232 Moll Pitcher VOL. XXX. S38' Black Eyed SuGan, 986 Bo^"^ M6»do'wa , Ui. 236- West End, ^WsK Heir- 217 §lx Degrees of drliji* ' aaS'Tbe Ladyarid '^he-Deyfl 340 Mask!} aAd Jg^cs^' • Qly^ People's L*wye't VOL. XXXII. ?49Th^ BoyMartyrB' , 2$D' Lucirtia BoKtla 'T t 551 Surgeorf of Fsirla . _ • '^^r 262 Patricfaii's DRUgtlter 263-Shoeuifllisr'of'^uI;mte 254 MomenMin,'^(ie^lQa ' ■-S5^£^ea!SdXb*aUy. /^ > 266 RoUber^a W^ift ' V. . . . ;V:DL/XXXHI. - S6T DiOnb Girl of.'Gnioa '> 8 Wreck-AsBora * " ' IfSSCIarf ; 260 Rural Feliijlty ■ 261 Wailata' ' 2MMftde1aiife' 26JJ The Fireman 2e4Gr-istto,tli«*IilI ' .. ' ■ VrtL. XXXIV. •2th T^O Lovr's and^'a Life '■266 .Annie Blaka' 263.Ste»*afd 26BCapt>^'Xyd. 2K9:Nii'ki)irtlie WooOtf , 270MirbliHeart, ' ,■ ?7l 'Setjaid Lo,va 272 Xi^ream at;Sea '<■' '> ■ VuL. xxasv. ;, , 273 Breach- of Ptomiw , 274 Reviehr ' ■■ ' 275 Lady of tliB. Lake' \, 29fi.Stllf M'ater Runs Daen 5(77 The^ScbOlst ■ - 278 Helping HainlB 279,FanBt and Marguerite '""iXaitnvinn VOL, xxxvr. MI'.BellB'i 5tr4tftgeia .ii82'Omi!ind.Youiig^-' -! , |!88-Rftffaella ■■^■ 284'Rilth';^iikUy • 285 BritiBH,gJ'».Ta '- 28T^Gir«Ba- 2SiTimeTr\es~AI] ■. ■ VOL.-yxXtH. S89.EIU~RDse4tmrg - !}90WaKfopk.oftheG]ea ' Si91 Zelinat! '^J,' ' -\," 292 BeatrfGe' \ ' <' ' ■■ .2^8 JNeighTor .XfuOiinwd 994 Wonder- ■■- , 296 Robert E^iiAet . S9e( Green Busbfe^ ' VOL. ;^xvm. 297 Flowers Of tbWForeat 298 A BacheJoV. of Arts ' ' 299 The'Mldnfght BHn Labor Lost '30S.;^aiad Queen - 303 Caprice ' ' ' 804^rad1S of Libert . VOL; xxxbc 306 q^e Lost Ship ' 306 ColiDtty Sqoire ' 307 Fraud'anWlUi^n " ' : ; 319 lyapboe >Jv"'.' \ .. ■ ' S^iifbh&th8n% Kogland' SAMUEL FRENCH. 36 West 32d Street, New York City. New and Exj^iicit Dcseriptiye Catalogue Wailed Free on Request, THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT a Comebg in four acts ST. JOHN HANKIN AUTHOR OF "THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS," "THE RETURN -OF THE PRODIGAL,''' "THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME." Copyright, 1907, by Samuel French Caution:— Professionals and Amateurs are hereby no'.ified that this play is fully copyrighted under the existing laws of the United States Government, and nobody is allowed to do this play without first having obtained written permission of Samuel French, 24 West 22d St., New York City, U. S. A. 4 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Cast of the Original production before the Stage Society at the Imperial Theatre, London on Feb. 10, 1907. Producer,— Miss Madge Mcintosh. persons of tbe (Eome&g. Mrs. Cassilis Miss Evelyn Weeden. The Countess op Eemeni-iam. Miss Florence Hay don. Lady Marohmont, Mrs. Cas- silis's sister Miss Gertrude Burnett. Mrs. Herries Miss K. M. Romsey. Mrs. Borridqe Miss Clare Greet. Lady Mabel. Venning, Lady Remenham's daughter Miss Isabel Boland. ■ Ethel Borridge * Miss Maudi Darrell. The Rector.. . . .■ .'. . Mr. F. Morland. ;Major Warrington Mr. Sam Sothern. Geoffrey Cassilis Mr. Langhorne Burton. Watson, Butler at Deynhain. Mr. Ralf Hutton. Dorset, Mrs. Cassilis's maid.. Miss Margaret Mackenzie. Two Footmen. The Scene takes place at Deynham Abbey in Leicester- shire. Act I. The Drawing-room. Act II. The Lawn. Act III. The Smoking-room off the Billiard-room. Act IV. The Morning-room. One night elapses between Acts I., and II. One week between Acts II., and III. One night between Acts III., and IV. , Note. — The Leicestershire Cassilises pronounce their name as it is spelt. 3 PROPERTIES properties. Act. I. Tea-olothi Tea-things for six. Bread and butter. Cake. Cake-stand. Act n. Rose to be picked. Red cushion (for Mrs. Borridge). Act III. Whiskey. Siphon. Half-dozen tumblers. Cigar-box. Matches. Paper-knife (breakable). Pen, ink, blotter, note-paper, envelopes and thin tinted paper. Pack of cards. Volume of Schubert's songs. Other books of music. Illustrated paper. Act rv. • Cigarette case and match-box (Geoffrey). Book (brought by Lady R.). Cushion for Mrs. Borridge. Morning paper. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. ACT I. Scene. — The white drawing room at Deynham Abbey. A very handsome room furnished Louis Seize. A tea table is spread up stage. \ When curtain rises the Rector and Mrs. Herries are discovered. The former stands on hearth rug tvith back to fireless hearth. The latter sits comfortably in armchair. ^They are evidently people ill easy circumstances and of good social standing. There are big double doors c. Three Louis Sei;:e armchairs, easily moved, by fire- place. Two or three small chairs up l. c. not far from tea table. Large icindoic l., rocker down stage. Sofa in front of it, set rocker diagonally with its back to the stage. Small settee or chair by end of it nearest footlights. Handsome Louis Seize tables, chests of drawers or cabinets on either side of door c. Mrs. Herries. {at window, then crosses r. c.) I wonder what can be keeping Mrs. Cassilis. Note. The Stage Directions throughout this play are given from the standpoint of the audience, R. meaning the Audience's Right, L. the Audience's Left. 5 6 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Kectoe. {back to fire) My dear I told you we oughtn't to have called. On so sad an occa- sion Mrs. Hereies. (r. c.) My dear Hildebrand, it's just on these sad occasions that a visit is so consoling. One should always call after a birth, a funeral. . . . (sits) Butler, {showing in Lady Eemenham and her daughter) I will tell Mrs. Cassjlis you are here, my lady. She will be down in a moment. Lady Eemenham. {coming down r. c. to arm- chair) Thank you. How do you do Mrs. Herries. How do you do. Rector, {general handshake) (Mabel and Rector cross l.) Mrs. Herries. How do you Lady Remenhani. (Rector crosses l. to window.) Rector. How do you do, Mabel. (Lady Mabel at windp'w) Lady Remenham. {seating herself comfortably R. c.) You've heard this dreadful news haven't you? (Rector makes sympathetic gesture) Mrs. Herries. Yes. Poor Mrs. Cassilis. Lady Remenham. Poor Adelaide indeed. That unhappy boy ! But there ! How any mother can allow such a thing to happen passes my com- prehension. To get engaged! Rector, {nods sympathetically) Just so. (c.) Lady Remenham. {sitting in armchair) Engagements are such troublesome things. They sometimes even lead to marriage. But we'll hope it won't be as bad as that in this case. You've not heard who she is I suppose? THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. T Mrs. Hebries. (sitting r. c.) No. Lady Eemenham. Ah. Someone quite impos- sible of course. Otherwise Adelaide would have told us in her letter. Mrs. Herries. I'm afraid so. Lady Eemenham. It's really extremely wicked of Geoffrey. And so silly too! — which is worse. A temporary infatuation I could understand, terminated by some small monetary payment. It would have been regrettable of course, but young men are like that. And Adelaide could have stopped it out of his allowance. But an engage- ment! I am quite shocked at her. Mabel, (at window) Don't you think, mam- ma, we might leave Mrs. Cassilis to manage her son's affairs her own way? (sits on sofa l.) Lady Eemenham. She has not managed them. That's exactly what I complain of. I can't alto- gether acquit the Eector of some blame in the mat- ter. He was Geoffrey's tutor for years. They used to say in mtf young days " Train up a child in the way he should go " Rector, (at lack of settee) And when he's grown up he'll give you a great deal of anxiety. So they did! So they did! (sits in small chair L. c.) Lady Eemenham. (severely) That is not the ending / remember. Eector. That is the Eevised Version. Lady Eemenham. I daresay. They seem to alter everything nowadays. But if so I hardly see the use of education. Eector. I have long been of that opinion, 8 THfi CASSlLIS BNGAGEMBNf. Lady Eemenham. (Enter c. Mes. Oa^silis in a charming afternoon gown) Mrs. Cassilis. You must forgive me all of you. I had some letters to finish, (general handshake. Kiss to Mabel) Dear Mabel. How do you do, Mrs. Herries. Eector. How do you do, Mrs. Cassilis. Lady Eemenham. My dear Adelaide what a charming gown ! But you always do have the most delightful clothes. Where do you get them? Mrs. Cassilis. Clarice made this, (two ■foot- men and Butler Tiring tea. They Tiring table down c. Butler looTis on) Lady Eemenham. Clarice? The wretch! She always makes my things atrociously. If only I had your figure ! (Footman brings chair from up l. puts it l. of table.) Mrs. Cassilis. Excuse me dear, (to Butlee) The carriage has gone to the station to meet Lady Marchmont, Watson? Butler. Yes, Madam. It started five minutes ago. (exit Butler followed by Footmen) Mes. Cassilis. (to Lady Eemenham) I'm so glad you like it. (up to table) Lady Eemenham. Is Margaret coming to stay with you? (crosses to table l. c.) Mes. Cassilis. Yes, for ten days. Lady Eemenham. And now will you please pour out my tea ? I have come here to scold you and I shall require several cups. Mrs. Cassilis. (quite innocent) To scold we. ^ THE CASSILIS engagement. 9 {goes to table and takes seat) Won't you all bring up your chairs to the table? {they all do so) Rector where are you? {to Lady Remen- ham) Cream? Lady Eemenham. Thank you. And a small lump. Mes. Cassilis. And why am I to be scolded? Lady Rembnham. You know quite well. Ade- laide what is this I hear about Geoffrey's engage- ment? Mrs. Cassilis. {cheerfully) Oh that? Yes. Geoffrey has got engaged to a girl in London. Isn't it romantic of him ! I know nothing what- ever about her except that I believe she has no money and Geoffrey is over head and ears in love with her. Mrs. Herries. My dear Mrs. Cassilis, I should have thought that was quite enough ! Mrs. Cassilis. Rector, will you cut that cake? It's just by your hand. Lady Remenham. Where did he meet her? Mrs. Cassilis. In an omnibus, I understand. Lady Remenham. An omnibus! Mrs. Cassilis. Yes. That was so romantic too ! One of the horses fell down and she was fright- ened. They thought she was going to faint. Geoffrey got her out, took charge of her, discov- ered her address and took her home. Wasn't it clever of him? Of course she asked him to come in. He was introduced to her mother. And now they're engaged, {gives cup to Rector) Lady Remenham. {with awful dignity) And what is the name of this young person? 10 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Mrs. Cassilis. Borridge. Lady Eemenham. Borridge! Mabel my love pray remember if ever you come home and inform me that you are engaged to a person of the name of Borridge I shall whip you. (puts down cup) Mabel. Very well, Mamma. Mrs. Cassilis. Another cup? Lady Eemenham. Thank you. Rather less sugar, this time, {gives cup) I never could understand why you let Geoffrey be in London at all. Alone too. Young men ought never to be al- lowed out alone at his age. They are so suscep- tible, (takes cup) Mabel. Geoffrey has his profession, mamma. Mrs. Cassilis. Geoffrey's at the Bar, you know. Lady Eemenham. The Bar! What business has Geoffrey to be at the Bar ! Deynham has the best shooting in the Shires and in the winter there's the hunting. What more does he want? It's disgraceful. Eector. My dear Lady Eemenham you're sure you're not confusing the Bar with the Dock? Mrs. Hbreies. Hildebrand! Lady Eemenham. The Bar is a good enough profession of course. But only for very younger sons. Geoffrey will have Deynham some day and twelve thousand a year. I don't think Adelaide need have made a little attorney of him. Mrs. Cassilis. Young men must do something, don't you think? Lady Eemenham. Certainly not! It's this vulgar Eadical notion that people ought to do THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 11 things that is ruining English Society. What did Mr. Borridge do, by the way? Mrs. Cassilis. (hesitates) He was a book- mal^er, I believe. Lady Eemenham. (triumphantly) There you see! That's what comes of doing things! Mrs. Cassilis. .(slight shrug. Pouring her- self out more tea and still quite unruffled) Well I'm afraid there's no use in discussing it. They're engaged and Miss Borridge is coming down here. Mrs. Herries. Coming here ! Lady Eemenham. Coming here ! ! ! Mrs. Cassilis. Yes. On a visit. With her mother. Lady Remenham. (putting down her cup with a touch of solemnity) Adelaide are you — excuse my asking the question — are you quite in your right mind? Mrs. Cassilis. I believe so. Lady Eemenham. You've noticed nothing? No dizziness about the head? No singing in the ears? (Mrs. Cassilis shakes her head) And yet you ask this young woman to stay with you ! And her mother! Neither of whom you know any- thing whatever about ! Mrs. Cassilis. Another cup? (Mrs. Cassilis takes it) Lady Eemenham. Is Mr. Borridge — Ugh — com- ing too? Mrs. Cassilis. He is dead, I believe. Lady Eemenham. That at least is satisfactory. Mabel. Mamma ! Lady Eemenham. Mabel I shall do my duty 12 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. whatever happens. And does Mrs. Borridge carry on the business? I think you said he was a book- maker ? Mabel, ^^oofc-maker. Mrs. Cassilis. No. I believe he left her some small annuity. Lady Remenham. Annuity? Ah, dies with her of course? Mrs. Cassilis. No doubt. Lady Remenham. Well Adelaide I never should have believed it of you. To ask these people to the house! Mrs. Cassilis. Why shouldn't I ask them? Geoffrey tells me Ethel is charming. Lady Remenham. Ethel? Mrs. Cassilis. Miss Borridge. Lady Remenham. Bah! {enter Bdtlee c. showing in Lady Marchmont) Butler. Lady Marchmont. Mrs. Cassilis. {rising) Ah Margaret. How glad I am to see you. Some more tea, Watson. Lady Marchmont. {kisses her) Not for me, please. No really. My doctor won't hear of it. Hot water with a little milk is the most he allows me. How do you do, dear, (greeting the others, shaking hands) How do you do. How do you do. {exit Butler) Mrs. Cassilis. How's the General? Lady Marchmont. Very gouty. His temper this morning was atrocious, poor man. Lady Remenham. {shakes head) You bear it like a Baint, dear. Lady Marchmont. {sits r. c. up) Yes — I go THE 6asSIL1S engagement. 13 away a good deal. He finds my absence very soothing. That's why I was so glad to accept Adelaide's invitation when she asked me. (Vicar offers Lady Maechmont cake.) Mrs. Cassilis. My dear, you'll be invaluable. I look to you to help me with my visitors. Lady Remenham. Poor Margaret. But you always were so unselfish. Lady March mont. Are they very — ? Lady Remenham. Very! I Mrs. Cassilis. (laughing) My dear, Lady Remenham knows nothing whatever about them. Lady Remenham. I know everything about them. The girl has no money. She has no posi- tion. She became engaged to Geoffrey without your knowledge. She has a perfectly dreadful mother. And her name is Borridge. Lady Marchmont. When are they coming? Mrs. Cassilis. I expect them in half an hour. The carriage was to go straight back to the sta- tion to meet them. Lady Remenham. I tope Geoffrey is conscious of the folly and wickedness of his conduct. Lady Marchmont. Where is he, dear? Mrs. Cassilis. He's down here with me — and as happy as possible, I'm glad to say. Lady Remenham. Extraordinary ! But the young men of the present day are extraordinary. Young men nowadays seem always to be either irreclaimably vicious or deplorably silly. I prefer them vicious. They give less trouble. My poor 14 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. brother Algernon — you remember Algernon, don't you, Rector ? He was another of your pupils. Rector, (sighs) Yes, I remember. Mrs. Herribs. Major Warrington hasn't been down for quite a long time has he? Lady Rembnham. No. We don't ask him to Milverton now. He comes to us in London but in the country one has to be more particular. He really is dreadfully dissipated. Always running after some petticoat or other. Often more than one. But there is safety in numbers, don't you think? Rector. Unquestionably. Lady Remenham. Algernon always says he's by temperament a polygamist. I don't know what he means. However, I've no anxiety about him. He never gets engaged. He's far too clever for that. I wonder if he could help you out of this dreadful entanglement? In a case of this kind one should have the very best advice. Mrs. Cassilis. {laughing) I shall be de- lighted to see Major Warrington — though not for the reason you suggest. Lady Rembnham. Well, I'll ask him down. Remenham won't like it. He disapproves of him so much. He gets quite virtuous about it. But that sort of moral indignation should never be allowed to get out of hand, should it? (Rector nods) Besides he's away just now. I'll write to Algernon directly I get back and I'll bring him over to dinner one day next week. Say Thursday? Lady Marchmont. Do, dear. I adore Major Warrington. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 15 Lady Rbmenham. I daresay, (preparing to go) He isn't your brother. Meantime I can ask him whether he knows anything against Mrs. Borridge. But he's sure to. He knows nearly all the detrimental people in London, especially if their daughters are in the least attractive. Mes. Cassilis. (rises) You'll come mth him on Thursday, won't you? And Mabel? (Mabel rises.) Lady Rbmenham. Perhaps that will be best. Then I can keep my brother within bounds. Poor Algernon is apt to take too much champagne un- less I am there to prevent him. And now dear, I really must go. (she and Mabel rise) Good-bye. Mes. Cassilis. You won't stay to meet Mrs. Borridge? Lady Remeniiam. (shudders) I think not. Thursday will be quite soon enough. Good-bye Mrs. Herries. (enter Geoffeey c.) Ah here is the young man who is causing us all this distress. Geoffrey, (up e. c.) I, Lady Remenham? (shakes hands) How do you do Aunt Margaret. (shakes hands with others) Lady Remenham. (shakes hands) You. What do you mean by getting engaged to someone we none of us know anything about? Mabel. Mamma ! Lady Remenham. I consider your conduct per- fectly heartless. Its foolishness needs no com- ment from me. Geoffrey. Really, Lady Remenham ! Lady Remenham. Tut, tut, sir. Don't 16 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. " really " me. I'm ashamed of you. And now I'll be ofif before I quarrel with you. Come Mabel. [sweeps out followed ty Mabel. Geoffrey opens door for them, takes them to their carriage) Mrs. Hbrries. I think we ought to be going too. Come Hildebrand, (shakes hands) (Mrs. Cassius rings.) Rector. Good-bye Mrs. Cassilis. Let's hope everything will turn out for the best. Mrs. Hbrries. It never does. Good-bye. Mrs. Cassilis. (l. c. going up with Eector) Good-bye. (shakes hands warmly) And you'll both come and dine on Thursday, won't you? To- morrow week that is. Major Warrington will want to see his old tutor. Eector. You're very good, (they go out c.) Mrs. Cassilis. Dear Lady Remenham! What nonsense she talks, (coming down l. c.) Lady Marchmont. (at fire) People who talk as much as that must talk a good deal of nonsense mustn't they? Otherwise they'd have nothing to say. (Re-enter Geoffrey) Geoffrey. Lady Remenham seems ruffled. Lady Marchmont. About your engagement? I'm not surprised, (coming c.) Geoffrey. I don't see what it's got to do with her. (l. c.) Lady Marchmont. (sits c.) You must make allowance for a mother's feelings, my dear Geof- frey. Geoffrey, (patting Mrs. Cassilis's hand, goes THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 17 to table c.) Lady Remenham isn't my mother, she's my God-mother. Lady Maechmont. She's Mabel's mother. Mrs. Cassilis. Sh! Margaret. Lady Maechmont. My dear there's no use making mysteries about things. Geoffrey was always supposed to be going to marry Mabel ever since they were children. He knows that. Geoffrey. That was only boy and girl talk. Lady Maechmont. For you perhaps. Geoffrey. And for her. Mabel never expected — {pause. He thinks) Lady Maechmont. Did you ever ask her. Geoffrey. But I never supposed • Lady Marchmont. I think you should have supposed. A boy should be very careful how he encourages a girl to think of him in that way. Geoffrey. But I'd no idea. Of course I like Mabel. I like her awfully. We're like brother and sister. But beyond that — (pause) Mother, do you think I've behaved badly to Mabel? Mrs. Cassilis. {seated on settee l,. c.) {Gently) I think perhaps you've a little disappointed her. Geoffrey. Why didn't somebody tell ma? How was I to know? Lady Maechmont. My dear boy we couldn't be expected to know you were absolutely blind. Mrs. Cassilis. Margaret you're not to scold Geoffrey. I won't allow it. Geoffrey. Mother dear — you won't allow this to make any difference ? With Ethel I mean ? Mes. Cassilis. Of course not Geoff, {lays hand on Ms) 18 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Geoffrey, (seated on arm of settee.) (Earn- estly) She's so fond of me. And I'm so fond of her. We were made for each other. I couldn't bear it if you were unkind to her. Mrs. Cassilis. My dear Geoff. I'm sure Ethel is everything that is sweet and good or my boy wouldn't love her. And I intend to fall in love with her myself directly I set eyes on her. Geoffrey. Dear mother! (pats her hand af- fectionately. Pause, then thoughtfully) I'm afraid you'll find her mother rather trying — at first. She's not quite a lady you know. . . . But she's very good-natured. Mrs. Cassilis. (cheerfully) Well, well, we shall see. And now run away dear and leave me to talk to Margaret and I'll undertake that all symptoms of crossness shall have disappeared be- fore our visitors arrive. Geoffrey. All right, mother, (kisses her and exit c.) Lady Marchmont. How you spoil that boy? Mrs. Cassilis. (lightly) What else should I do with him ? He's my only one. Mothers always spoil their sobs, don't they? And quarrel with their daughters. More marriages are due to girls being unhappy at home than most people imagine. Lady Marchmont. And yet Geoffrey wants to leave you apparently. Mrs. Cassilis. (sits l. c.) Evidently I didn't spoil him enough, (pause) Lady Marchmont. Well I'm glad you're pleased with this engagement. Mrs. Cassilis. (sudden change of manner. Her THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 19 face loses its triglitness and she suddenly seems to look older) Pleased with it. Do you really believe that? Lady March mont. Didn't you say so? Mrs. Cassilis. To Lady Kemenham and Mrs. Herries. Yes. Lady Marci-imont. And to Geoffrey. Mrs. Cassilis. And Geoffrey too. Mothers can't always be straightforward with their sons, can they? Lady Maechmont. Why not? Mrs. Cassilis. (going nearer to her and hecom- ing intensely serious) My dear Margaret what would you do if your son suddenly wrote to you that he had become engaged to a girl you knew nothing whatever about, a girl far beneath him in social rank? Lady Marci-imont. [firmly) I should have forbidden the engagement. Forbidden it abso- lutely. Mrs. Cassilis. Without seeing the girl? Lady Marciimont. Certainly. The mere fact of her accepting my son before I had ever set eyes on her would have been quite enough. Mrs. Cassilis. But supposing your son were of age and independent? Lady Marchmoxt. Geoffrey isn't independent. Mrs. Cassilis. He has five hundred a year. Lady Maechmont. What's that? Mrs. Cassilis. Besides Geoffrey knows I should always be willing to help him. Lady Marci-imont. That's just it. He ought not to have known. You ought to have made it 20 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. clear to him from the first that if he married with- out your consent he would never have a penny from you either now or at your death. Deynham isn't entailed fortunately. Mrs. Cass.ilis. But my dear I couldn't disin- herit Geoffrey ! How could I ? Lady Marchmont. {shrugs) You could have threatened to. And then the girl wouldn't have accepted him. Mrs. Cassilis. I don't know. Five hundred a year may seem a considerable sum to her. Lady March mont. (horrified) Is it as bad as that? Mrs. Cassilis. Besides she may be really in love with him. Lady Marchmont. (impatiently) What has that to do with it? Mrs. Cassilis. Young people. In love. They are seldom prudent, are they? Lady Marchmont. (obstinate) Still I should have forbidden the engagement. Mrs. Cassilis. And then? Lady Marchmont. What do you mean? Mrs. Cassilis. If Geoffrey had "defied me? Boys can be very obstinate. Lady Marchmont. I should have refused ever to see him again. Mrs. Cassilis. (rises goes l.) Ah, Margaret, I couldn't do that. Geoffrey is everything I have. He is my only son, my joy and my pride. I couldn't quarrel with him whatever happened. (Lady Marchmont shrugs) No, Margaret, my plan was the best. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 21 Lady Maechmont. What is your plan. Mrs. Cassilis. (sits l. c.) My plan is to give the thing a fair trial. Ask her down hei'e. Ask her mother down here. And see what happens. Lady Maechmont. Nothing else? Mrs. Cassilis. Nothing else — at present. Lady Maechmont. You could have done that without sanctioning the engagement. Mrs. Cassilis. Yes. But love thrives on op- position. There's a fascination about a runaway match. It has romance. Whereas there's no romance at all about an ordinary wedding. It's only dull and rather vulgar. And after all the girl may be presentable. Lady Maechmont. Borridge! I'm not very sanguine about that. Mrs. Cassilis. Anyhow she's pretty and Geof- frey loves her. ■ That's all we know about her at present. Lady March mont. [rises goes e.) Wretched boy. To think he should have allowed himself to be caught in this way! .... (at chair k. c.) Don't you think you might have asked the daughter without the mother? Mrs. Cassilis. So Geoffrey suggested. He seemed rather nervous about having her here. She's rather a terrible person, I gather. But I said as we were marrying into the family we mustn't be unkind to her. Poor boy he rather blenched at that. I think he hadn't associated Mrs. Borridge with his matrimonial schemes. It's just as well he should do so at once don't you think ! 22 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Butler. Mrs. and Miss Borridge. {enter Mes. BoERiDGB and Ethel) (Both rise. Lady Marchmont goes down l. c. Mrs. Cassilis doion r. c.) Mrs. Cassilis. (entire change of manner, very sweetly) How do you do. How do you do, my dear, (kisses Ethel) Tell Mr. Oeoffrey, Watson. I hope you've not had a tiring journey, Mrs. Bor- ridge? (exit Butler) Mrs. Borridge. (r. c.) Not at all Mrs. Cas- silis. We 'ad — had — the compartment to our- selves, bein' first class. As I says to my girlie " they'll very likely send the carridge to meet us and it looks better for the servants." (Ethel crosses r. up.) Mrs. Cassilis. (c. still sweetly) Let me intro- duce you. Mrs. Borridge — Lady Marchmont, Miss Borridge. (Lady Marchmont tows) Mrs. Borridge. (extends gloved hand) How do you do. Lady Marchmont. Proud I'm sure. (enter Geoffrey hurriedly) (Mrs. Cassilis l. c.) Geoffrey. How do you do, Mrs. Borridge. Ethel dear how long have you been here ? I didn't hear you come, (hisses her) Ethel. We've only just got here. (Lady Marchmont sits down r. c.) Mrs. Borridge. (sits up n. c.) Don't apologise, Geoffy. Your Ma's been entertaining us most kind. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 23 Geoffrey, {with look of gratitude to Mrs. Cassilis) Dear mother. Mrs. Borridge. Well, how are you Geoflfy? You look first-rate. (Mrs. Cassilis sits l. c. up.) Geoffrey. Oh I'm all right. Mrs. Borridge. And what a fine 'ouse — house — you've got! Quite a palace I declare! Geoffrey. I'm glad you like it. Mrs. Borridge. And it'll all be your's some day. Won't it? Ethel, {pulls her sleeve) Mother! Geoffrey. That's as my mother decides. Mrs. Borridge. Then you're sure to 'ave it. I know what mothers are ! And what a 'andsome room too. Quite like the Metropole at Brighton. {enter Maid, c. very smartly dressed in hlack) Maid. Can I have your keys, Madam? Mrs. Borridge. My keys ? (Geoffrey works l. c.)' Maid. The keys of your trunks, Madam. Mrs. Borridge. Certainly not. Who ever 'eard of such a thing? Maid. I thought you might wish me to unpack for you, Madam. Mrs. Borridge. Oh. Did you ! I don't want no strange girls ferriting in my boxes. (Ethel nudges her arm) What is it, Eth? Oh, very well. But I'm not going to let her all the same. No thank you. Mrs. Cassilis. (rises) Mrs. Borridge will un- 24 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. pack for herself, Dorset. (Maid 1)ows going) Wait a moment. (Maid pauses) Would you like to take off your things at once, Mrs. Borridge? If so, Dorset shall show you your room. And I'll have some tea sent up to you there. You'll want it after your journey, {feels tea pot) This is quite cold. What do you say, Ethel? Ethel. Thank you Mrs. Cassilis. A cup of tea would be very nice. Mks. Cassilis. Show Mrs. Borridge her room, Dorset. (Mrs. Borridge rises) And take her up some tea. Dinner will be at eight. You'll ring if there's anything you want, won't you? Mrs. Borridge. Thank you, Mrs. Cassilis. {exit. Geoffrei' kisses Ethel slijli/ in passing. Mrs. Cassilis conies down r. c. loith slight shudder) Geoffrey, {enthusiastie) Well mother, ichat do you think of her! Isn't she sweet? {coming down l. c.) Mrs. Cassilis. {crosses to him l. c.) She's very pretty, Geoff. Geoffrey. And good! You don't know how good she is ! Mrs. Cassilis. So long as she's good to my boy that's all I ask. Geoffrey. Dearest mother, {kisses her dem- onstratively) Now I'll go and dress, {exit c.) Lady Marchmont. {pause, rises) And that's the girl your son is to marry. Mrs. Cassilis. {standing c. ly talle) Marry her! — Nonsense, my dear Margaret. Curtain. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 25 ACT II. Scene: — -The lawn at Deynham. Long chairs under shade of trees c. On r. terrace of the house from which steps lead down to lawn- French windows from house on to terrace (open.) An exit up l. to other part of grounds. Another exit down l. to the strawberry beds. The stage is empty when curtain rises. Then enter from house Mrs. Cassilis foW>wed by Ethel^ and a little later, Mrs. Borkidgb. Mrs. Cassilis is dressed in a charming morning gown. She and Ethel carry parasols. Ethel wears a simple white blouse and skirt, Mrs. BoEBiDGE in green blouse rather bright in color. Mrs. Cassilis. Shall we come out on the Ijawn ? It's such a perfect morning. Ethel. That will be jolly Mrs. Cassilis. ( they come down) When I'm in the country I shall always eat too much breakfast and then spend the morning on a long chair digesting it. So will mother. Mrs. Borridge. How you go on, dearie ! Mrs. Cassilis. Try this chair then, [slightly moving long chair forward) Mrs. Borridge wliat kind of chair do yo» like ? 26 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Mrs. Borridgb. This'Il do. I'm not particular. [subsides into another long chair) Am I showing my aniiles, Eth? Ethbl. Sh ! motlier ! (giggles) Mrs. Borridge. Well I only asked, dearie. Mrs. Cassilis. I wonder if you'd like a cushion for your head? Try this, [puts vivid red cushion 'behind vivid green blouse. The effect is electrify- ing) Mrs. Borridgb. That's better. Ethel. I call this Heaven, Mrs. Cassilis. Mrs. Cassilis. That's right, my dear, (patting her shoulder) Are you fond of the country? Ethel. I don't know. I've never been there so far. Not to the real country I mean. Mums and I hate a week at Brighton now and then. And once we went for a month to Broadstairs after I had the measles. But that's not exactly country, is it? Mrs. Cassilis. You're sure to like it. Geoffrey loves it.' He's never so happy as when he's pot- tering about Deynham with his gun. (crosses r. c. sits) Ethel. Doesn't he get tired of that? Mrs. Cassilis. Oh, no. Besides, he doesn't do that all the year round. He rides a great deal. We've very good hunting at Deynham. Are you fond of horses? Ethel. I can't bear them, Mrs. Cassilis. Mrs. Borridgb. When she was a little tot her father put 'er — her — on a pony and she fell off. It didn't hurt 'er but the doctor said 'er nerve was shook. And now she can't bear horses. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 27 Mrs. Cassilis. What a pity ! I do hope you won't be dull while you're with us. Perhaps you're fond of walking? Ethel. Yes. I don't mind walking — for a little. If there's anything to walk to. Mes. Cassilis. We often walk up Milverton Hill on fine afternoons to see the view. It's the highest point about here. Ethel, {stifling a yawn) Is it, Mrs. Cas- silis? Mrs. Cassilis. And no doubt we shall find other things to amuse you. What do you like? Ethel. Oh, shops and theatres, and lunching at restaurants and dancing, and oh, lots of things. Mrs. Cassilis. I'm afraid we've no shops nearer than Leicester, and that's twelve miles away. And we've no restaurants at all. But I daresay we could get up a dance for you. Ethel. {clapping her hands) That'll be sweet! I simply love dancing. And all the rest of the time I shall sit on the lawn and grow fat, like Mummy, {protest from Mrs. Borridge.) Oh, yes, I shall. Mrs. Borridge. Ethel, don't be saucy. Ethel, {laughing) Mummy, if you scold me you'll have to go in. It's far too hot to be scolded. Mrs. Borridge. Isn't she a spoil't girl, Mrs. Cassilis? What they taught you at that board- ing school, Miss, / don't know. Not manners, / can see. Ethel, {ruffling her mother's wig) There! there! Mums. Was 'em's cross? Mes. Boeeidge. {pettishly) Stop it, Ethel, 28 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. stop it, I say. Whatever will Mrs. Cassilis thiuk of you! (Ethel sits again in chair c.) Mes. Cassilis. Don't scold her, Mrs. Borridge. It's so pleasant to see a little high spirits, isn't it? Mrs. Borridge. (beaming) Well, if you don't mind, Mrs. Cassilis, / don't. But it's not the way girls were taught to behave in my young days. Ethel, (slight yawn) That was so long ago, Mums! Mrs. Cassilis. (rising) Well, I must go and see after my house-keeping. Can you entertain each other while I'm away for a little? My sister wiil be down soon, I hope. She had breakfast in her room. And Geoffrey will be back in half an hour. I asked him to ride over to Milverton for me with a note. JEtheu We shall be all right, Mrs. Cassilis. Motiier'll go to sleep. She always does if you make her too comfortable. And then she'll snore, won't you. Mums? (exit Mrs. Cassilis e., vAth a ghastly smile). Mrs. Borridge. Ethel, you shouldn't talk like that before Mrs. Cassilis. She won't like it. Ethel. Oh yes she will. And I'm going to make her like me awfully. What lovely clothes she has! I wish you had lovely clothes. Mums. Mrs. Borridge. What's the matter with my clothes, dearie? I 'ad on my best silk last night. And I bought this blouse special in the Grove only a week ago so as to do you credit. THE CASSILIS ENGAGBMEljIT. 29 Ethel. I know. Still .... Couldn't you have chosen something quieter 1 Mrs. BoEpiDGE. Oh no, dearie. I 'ate qui^t things. Ethel. Hsde, mother. Mrs. Borridge. j?ate then. Give me something cheerful. Ethel, (hopelessly) Very well, Mummy. Mrs. Borridge. But do be careful what you say before Mrs. Cassilis. She's not used' to girls being so free. Ethel. Oh, yes she is. Mums. All girls are like that nowadays. All girls that are ladies, I mean. They bet and talk slang and smoke cigar- ettes and play bridge. I know all about that. I've read all about it in the " Ladies Mail." One of them put ice down her young man's back at dinner and when he broke off his engagement she only laughed. Mrs. Borridge. {lamentably) Oh, dear, I do hope there won't be ice for dinner to-night. (Ethel goes to her, sits on r. arm of chair.) Ethel, (laughing) Poor Mums, don't be anxious. I'll be very careful, I promise you. Mrs. Borridge. You're so 'eadstrong. And I do want to see you married and respectable. I wasn't always respectable myself, and I know what it means for a girl. Your sister Nan, she's gay, she is. She 'adn't no ambition. An' look what she is now! Ethel. If GeoflF. were to hear of it! (going down R. c. to tack of chair c.) 30 THE CASSlLlS ENGAGEMENTf. Mrs. Borridge. 'E won't. Not 'e! I've seen to that. Ethel. These things always get known some- how. (Ethel sits again on her chair r. c:) Mrs. Borridge. Nan's changed 'er name. Calls 'erself Mrs. Seymour. An' she never comes to see us now. If she did, I'd show 'er the door fast enough. Disgracin' us like that ! Ethel. Poor Nan ! Mrs. Borridge. Don't you pity 'er. She don't deserve it. She treated us like dirt. She's a bad 'un all through. I've done things myself as I didn't ought to 'ave done. But I've always wanted to be respectable. But it's not so easy when you've your living to make and no one to look to. (Ethel nods) Yes, I've 'ad my bad times, dearie. But I've pulled through them. And I made your father marry me. No one can deny that. It wasn't easy. An' I had to give him all my savings before 'e'd say yes. And then I wasn't 'appy till we'd been to church. But 'e did marry me in the end. An' then you was born, an' I says my girl shall be brought up respect- able. She shall be a lady. And some day, when she's married an' ridin' in her carriage, she'll say " it's all mother's doing." (pause) Ethel. How long were you married to father, Mums? Mrs. Borridge. Only eight years, dearie. Be- fore that I was 'is 'ouse-keeper. Ethel. His, Mummy. Mrs. Borridge. Very well, dearie. Father TEiE dASSlLlS ENGAGEMENT. SI drank 'isself to death the year Ben d'or won the Ledger. He lost a pot o' money over that, and it preyed on 'is mind. So he took to the drink. If he 'adn't insured 'is life an' kep' the premiums payed we should 'ave been in the 'ouse, that's where we should 'ave been, dearie. Ethel. Poor dad ! Mrs. Borridge. Yes. 'e 'ad 'is faults. But 'e was a kind 'earted man, wan Joe Borridge. 'E died m«ch respected, {cheering up) An' now you're engaged to a real gentleman ! That's the sort for my Eth ! Ethel. Oh! Sh! Mums, {rises, looking round nervously) Mrs. Borridge. No one'll hear. And if they do what's the harm? You've got 'is promise. (Ethel standing iy her mother c.) Ethel. His, Mother. Mrs. Borridge. You can hold 'im — him — to it. Ethel. Yes. Besides Geoff's awfully in love with me. And I really rather like Mm, you know, — in a way. Mrs. Borridge. / know, dearie. Still I'd get something from 'im on paper if I was you, some- thing that'll 'old 'im. The men takes a bit of 'old- ing nowadays. They're that slippy! You get something that'll 'old 'im. That's what I always say to girls. Letters is best. Oh, the chances I've seen missed through not gettin' something on paper ! Ethel. You needn't worry. Mummy. Geoff's all right. S2 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Mrs. Boreidge. I daresay. Still I'd like something the lawyers can take hold of. Geofifrey may get tired of you, dearie. Men are that changeable. / know them! Ethel. He'd better not! I'd make him pay for it ! Mrs. Boreidge. {approving) So you could, dearie, so long as you 'ad somethin' on paper. (Ethel shrugs impatiently) Well if you won't you won't. But if anythin' happens don't say I didn't warn you. (Ethel crosses r. Pause) I wish Geofify was a lord, like Lord Buckfastleigh. Ethel. / don't, {sits in chair r.) Mrs. Boreidge. Well not just like Buckfast- leigh per'aps. But still a lord. You never did like Buckfastleigh. Ethel. That old beast ! Mes. Borridge. He's been a good friend to us, dearie. And he is an Earl whatever you may say. Ethel. Pah ! Mrs. Borridge. And he's rich. Richer than Geoffy. And he's awfully sweet on you dearie. I believe he'd 'ave married you if 'is old woman 'ad turned up 'er toes last autumn. And he's seventy-three. He wouldn't 'ave lasted long. Ethel. I wouldn't marry him if he were twice as rich — and twice as old. Mrs. Borridge. I daresay you're right, dearie. He's a queer 'un is Buckfastleigh. But he offered to settle five thousand down if you'd go to Paris with 'im. Five thousand down on the nail. He wasn't what you'd call sober when he said it but he meant it. I daresay he'd 'ave made it seven THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 33 if you hadn't boxed 'is ears. (Ethel laughs) Wasn't I savage when you did that, dearie. But you was right 'as it turned out. For Geoffy pro- posed next day and now you'll be a real married woman. There's nothing like being married. It's so respectable. When you're married you can look down on people. And that's what every woman wants. That's why I pinched and screwed and sent you to boarding school. I said my girlie shall be a real lady. And she is. Ethel, (rises) Is she, Mums? {goes up) Mrs. Boeridge. Of course dearie. That's why she's 'ere. Deynham Abbey, two footmen in livery, flre in 'er bedroom, evenin' dress every night of 'er life. Lady Marchmont invited to meet her! Everythin' tip top! And it's not a bit too good for my girl. It's what she was made for. Ethel, (thoughtfully) I wish Johnny Travers had had some money. Then I could have married him. Mrs. Borridge. Married 'im — him ! Married a auctioneer's clerk without twopence to bless 'is- self. I should think not indeed! Not likely! Ethel. Still I was awfully gone on Johnny. Mrs. Borridge. Nonsense Eth. I should 'ope we can look 'igher than that! Ethel. Sh! mother. Here's Geoff, (enter Geoffrey l. in riding hreeches) Geoffrey Good morning dear, (kisses Ethel) I thought I should be back earlier but I rode over to Milverton for the mater, (to Mrs. Borridge) Good morning. 34 The CaSSILIS BNGAGBlVrENT. Mrs. BoRRiDGE. (archly) You 'aven't no kisses to spare for me, 'ave you, Geoffy? Never mind. You keep 'em all for my girl. She's worth 'em. Geoffrey, [caressing her hand) Dear Ethel. Mrs. Borridge. How well you look in those riding togs, GeofErey ! Don't 'e Eth? [preparing to go) Ethel. Geoff always looks well in everything. Mrs. Borridge. [rising from chair) Well I'll go indoors and leave you two to spoon. That's what you want I know. I'll go and talk to your ma. [exit r. 'beaming) Geoffrey, [picking rose and bringing it to her) A rose for the prettiest girl in England. Ethel. Oh Geoff, do you think so? Geoffrey. Of course. The prettiest and the best, [holds her hand) Ethel. You do really love me Geoff, don't you? Geoff. Do you doubt it? [kisses her) Ethel. No. You're much too good for me, you know, [comes down r. with him) Geoffrey. Nonsense, darling. Ethel. It's the truth. You're a gentleman and rich and have fine friends. While mother and I are common a,s common. Geoffrey You're not. Ethel. Oh yes we are. Of course I've been to school, and been taught things. But what's edu- cation? It can't alter how we're made, can it? And she and I are the same underneath. Geoffrey. Ethel you're not to say such things, or to think them. THE CASSlLIS ENGAGEMENT. 35 Ethel. But they're true GeoflE. Geoffrey. They're not. (kisses her) Say they're not. Ethel. No. Geoffrey. Say they're not. (kisses her) Not! Ethel. Very well. They're not. Geoffrey. That's right, (kiss) There's a re- ward. Ethel, (pulling herself away) I wonder if I did right to say " yes " when you asked me, GeoflE ? Eight for you I mean. Geoffrey. Of course you did, darling. You love me, don't you ? Ethel. But wouldn't it have been best for you if I'd said " no " ? Then you'd have married Lady Somebody or other with lots and lots of money and lived happy ever afterwards. Geoffrey, (indignantly) I shouldn't. Ethel. Oh yes you would. I Geoffrey, (sits on chair c.) And what would you have done, pray Ethel. Oh I should have taken up with some- one else or perhaps married old Buckfastleigh when his wife died. Geoffrey. Ethel ! Ethel. I should. I'm not the sort to go on moping for long. I should have been awfully down for a bit and missed you every day. But by and by I should have cheered up and married someone else. I could have done it. I could! Geoffrey, (goes to her) And what about me? Ethel. Wouldn't you have been happier in the 36 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. end, dear? I'm not the sort of wife you ought to have married. Some day I expect you'll come to hate me. (sighs) Heigho. Geoffrey. You know I shan't dear. Ethel. JJut I did so want to marry a gentle- man. Mother wanted it too. So I said " yes " you see. Geoffrey, (pulling her up) Darling! (Mss) (pause) Ethel, (they cross to l. his arm round her waist) Geoff, what did your mother say when you told her we were engaged? Was she dread- fully down about it? Geoffrey. No. Ethel. On your honour! Geoffrey. On my honour. Mother never said a single word to me against it. Lady Marchmont scolded me a bit. She's my Aunt you see. Ethel. Old cat! Geoffrey. And so did Lady Remenham. She's my Godmother. But mother stood up fo;" us all through. Ethel, (sighs, crosses r.) , I shall never get on with all your fine friends, Geoff. Geoffrey. You will. Anyone who's as pretty as my Ethel can get on anywhere. Ethel. Yes I am pretty aren't T ? I'm glad of that. It makes a difference, doesn't it? Geoffrey. Of course. In a week you'll have them all running after you. Ethel. Shall I, Geoff? Won't that be splen- did! (Icisses him) Oh, Geoff I'm so happy. When shall we be married? THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 37 Geoffrey. I'm afraid not till next year, dear. Next June mother says. Ethel. That's a long way off, Geoflf. Geoffrey. Yes, but mother says you're to be here a great deal between now and then, almost all the time in fact. So it won't be so bad, will it? Ethel, (goes to chair r. sits) Why does your mother want it put off till then ? Geoffrey. Something about the London season she said. We shall be married in London of course because your mother's house is there. Ethel. Oh yes, of course. Geoffrey. And besides mother says she never believes in very short engagements. She says girls sometimes don't quite know their own minds, [goes to her) I said I was sure you weren't like that. But she asked me to promise, so I did. Ethel. Well that's settled then, (jumping up) And won't it be nice to be married. Really married, (crosses to l.) And now I want to do something. I'm tired sitting still. What shall it be? Geoffrey, (crosses to her) We might go a walk up Milverton Hill. The view there's awfully fine, (looks at watch) But there's hardly time before lunch. Ethel. Besides I should spoil my shoes. (shows elegant towny shoe) Geoffrey. Suppose we go to the strawberry bed and eat strawberries? Ethel, (clapping her hands) Oh yes, that'll be splendid. I can be so deliciously greedy over 38 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. strawberries, (puts her arm in his and leads him off L. Enter Mes. Cassilis, Lady Marchmont and Mrs. Boreidge from house r. as they are going) Mrs. Cassilis. (affectionately) Going for a stroll, dears? Geoffrey. Only as far as the strawberry bed, mother dear. Mrs. Cassilis. Oughtn't dear Ethel to have a hat? The sun is very hot there. Ethel. I've got a parasol Mrs. Cassilis. (ex- eunt L.) Mrs. Boreidge. You weren't down to breakfast Lady Marchmont. Lady Marchmont. No, I — had a headache. Mrs. Cassilis. Poor Margaret. Mrs. Borridge. It's 'eadachy weather isn't it? (sits R.) Lady Marchmont. I suppose it is. Mrs. Boreidge. Or perhaps it was the oyster patties last night? I've often noticed after an oyster I come over quite queer. Specially if it isn't quite fresh. Lady Marchmont. Indeed! Mrs. Borridge. Yes. But crabs is worse. Crabs is simply poison to me. Lady Marchmont. How extraordinary. Mrs. Borridge. They are I do assure you. If I touch a crab I'm that ill nobooy would believe it. Mrs. Cassilis. (up c.) Well, Margaret, (Lady Marchmont sits c.) I expect you oughtn't to be talked to or it will make your 'aead worse. You THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 29 stay here quietly and rest while I take Mrs. Bor- ridge for a stroll in the garden. Lady Marchmont. Thank you. My head is a little bad still. Mrs. Borridge. Try a drop of brandy, Lady Marchmont. My 'usband always said there's nothing like brandy if you're feeling poorly. Lady Marchmont. Thank you. I think I'll just try what rest will do. Mrs. Cassilis. {making Lady Marchmont comfortable) I expect that will be best. Put your head back, dear. Headaches are such trying things aren't they, Mrs. Borridge? This way. And you're to keep quiet till luncheon Margaret. (Mrs. Cassilis and Mrs. Borridge exeunt l. up.) (Lady Marchmont closes her eyes with a sigh of relief. After a moment enter Butler with Mrs. Heeries from house r. Butler. Mrs. Herries. Lady Marchmont. (rises goes up to meet her) How do you do. Mrs. Cassilis. is in the garden, Watson, (to Mrs. Herries.) She has just gone for a stroll with Mrs. Borridge. Mrs. Herries. Oh, pray don't disturb her. Pray don't. I can only stay for a moment. Liter- ally a moment. Lady Marchmont. But she would be so sorry to miss you. Will you let her know Watson. She went that way. Butler. Yes, my lady, (exit l. up.) Lady Marchmont. And how's the dear Rec- tor? [sits c.) You've not brought him with you? 40 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Mrs. Herries. No. He was too busy. There is always so much to do in these small parishes, isn't there? Lady March MONT. Indeed? Mrs. Herries. Oh yes. There's the garden — and the pigs. The Rector is devoted to his pigSj you know. And his roses. Lady March mont. The Rector's roses are quite famous, aren't they? Mrs. Herries. (r. c, lowering her voice anA leaning forward) And now tell me dear Lady Marchmont, before Mrs. Cassilis comes back, what is she like? Lady Marchmont. (r. laughing) Really, dear Mrs. Herries, I think I must leave you to decide that for yourself. Mrs. Herries. So bad as that! The Rector feared so. And the mother? (no answer) Just so! What a pity. An orphan is so much easier to deal with. Lady Marchmont. You may be' glad to hear that Mr. Borridge is dead. Mrs. Herries. So Mrs. Cassilis said. How fortunate! How very fortunate! (enter Mrs. Cassilis l. followed by Mrs. Borridge) Mrs. Herries. Dear Mrs. Cassilis how do you do. How are you? Mrs. Cassilis. Quitie well, thanks. It's Mar- garet who is unwell. Mrs. Herries. Indeed ! She didn't mention it. Lady Marchmont. (hurriedly) I have a head- ache. Mrs. Herries. I'm so sorry. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 41 Mrs. Cassilis. {sweetly) You have heard of my son's engagement, haven't you ? Dear Ethel is with us now I'm glad to say. Let me introduce you to her mother. Mrs. Herries. {politely frigid) How do you do. {hows) What charming weather we're hav- ing aren't we? Mrs. Cassilis. You'll stay to luncheon now you are here, won't you? (Mrs. Borridge sits l.) Mrs. Herries. I'm afraid I mustn't. I left the Rector at home. He will be expecting me. {Cross Lady Marchmont. goes up c.) Mrs. Cassilis. Why didn't you bring him with you? Mrs. Herries. So kind of you dear Mrs. Cas- silis. {nervously) But he hardly liked — How is poor Geoffrey? Mrs. Cassilis. {correcting her — hastily) He's very well. He's in the kitchen garden with Ethel. At the strawberry bed. You'll see them if you wait. Mrs. Herries. I'm afraid I can't. In fact I must run away at once. I only looked in in pass- ing. It's nearly one o'clock and the Rector always likes his luncheon at one. Good-bye dear Mrs. Cassilis. Good-bye Mrs. Borridge. Mrs. Borridge. {stretching out her hand) Good-bye Mrs. — I didn't rightly catch your name. Mrs. Herries. Herries. Mrs. Herries. {shakes hands nervously) 42 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Mrs. Borridgb. Good-bye Mrs. 'Erris. Mrs. Cassilis. And you're coming over to dine on Thursday? That's to-day week, you know. And the Rector of course. You won't forget! Mrs. Herries. With pleasure. Good-bye Lady Marchmont. (looks at Mrs. Borridge who has turned away, then at Lady Marchmont^ then exit r.) Mrs. Borridge. I think I'll be going in Mrs. Cassilis, just to put myself straight for dinner. Mrs. Cassilis. Yes. Do. Luncheon will be ready in half an hour, (exit Mrs. Borridge. To Lady Marchmont who sinks limply into chair. Mrs. Cassilis resumes her natural voicei) How's your headache Margaret ? Better ? Lady Marchmont. Quite well. In fact I never had a headache. That was a little deception on my part, dear to excuse my absence from the breakfast table. Will you forgive me? (Mrs. Cassilis nods withou\ a smile. Pause) (Mrs. Cassilis goes round tree to l.) Breakfasts are rather a mistake aren't they. So trying to the temper. And that awful woman ! I felt a brute for deserting you. On the very first morning too. But I didn't feel strong enough to face her again so soon. How could Geoffrey do it ! Mrs. Cassilis. Geoffrey's not going to marry Mrs. Borridge. Lady Marchmont. He's going to marry the daughter. And she'll grow like her mother ulti- mately. All girls do, poor fhings. Mrs. Cassilis. (sits l. c.) Poor Geoffrey. I suppose there's something wrong in the way we THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 43 bring boys up. When they reach manhood they seem quite unable to distinguish between the right sort of \\'omau and — the other sort. A pretty face and they're caught at once. It's only after they've lived for a few years in the world and got soiled and hardened— got what we call experience in fact — that they even begin to understand the dif- ference. Lady Makchmont. You ought to have sent Geoffrey to a public school. His father ought to have insisted on it. Mrs. Cassilis. Poor Charley died when Geoff was only twelve. And when I was left alone I couldn't make up my mind to part with him. Be- sides I hate the way public-schoolboys look on women. Lady Marchmont. Still it's a safe-guard. Mrs. Cassilis. (sighs) Perhaps it is. (pause. Mrs. Cassilis looks utterly depressed) Lady Marchmont. My dear Adelaide don't look like that. You frighten me. Mrs. Cassilis. What's the matter? Lady Marchmont. Your face looked abso- lutely grey! Didn't you sleep last night? Mrs. Cassilis. Not very . much, (trying to smile) Has my hair gone grey too? Lady Marchmont. Of course not. Mrs. Cassilis. I feared it might. Lady Marchmont. You poor dear! (pause goes to her) Mrs. Cassilis. I am pretty still am I not, Mar- garet? Lady Marchmont. My dear you look perfectly 44 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. sweet as you always do. Only there are one or two little lines I hadn't noticed before. But your 'hair's lovely. Mrs. Cassilis. I'm glad of that. I shall need all my looks now — for Geoffrey's sake. Lady Marchmont. Geoffrey's? [sits on arm of chair c.) Mrs. Cassilis. Looks mean so much to a man, don't they? And he has always admired me. Now I shall want him to admire me more than ever. Lady Marchmont. Why dear? Mrs. Cassilis. Because I have a rival. Lady Marchmont. This detestable girl? Mrs. Cassilis. (nods) Yes. Lady Marchmont. My dear Adelaide, isn't it too late now? Mrs. Cassilis. Too late? Why the time has scarcely begun. At present Geoffrey 1^ over head and ears in love with her. While that goes on we can do nothing. But it won't last. Lady Marchmont. Won't it? Mrs. Cassilis. No. That kind of love never does. It dies because it is a thing of the senses only. It has no foundation in reason, in common tastes, common interests, common associations. So it dies. My place is by its death bed. Lady Marchmont. That sounds rather ghoul- ish. Mrs. Cassilis. It is. Lady Marchmont. Are you going to do any- thing to hasten its demise? Mrs. Cassilis. (quite practically) Oh yes. In THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 45 the first place they're to stay here for a long visit. I want them to feel thoroughly at home. Vulgar people are so much more vulgar when they feel at home, aren't they. LlDY Marchmont. You can hardly expect any change in that direction from J/rs. Borridge. Mrs. Cassilis. I suppose not. Then I shall ask lots of people to meet them. Oh lots of peo- ple. So that Geoffrey may have the benefit of the contrast. I've asked Mabel to stay by the way — for a week — to help to entertain dear Ethel. When those two are together it should open Geoffrey's eyes more than anything. Lady Marchmont. Love is blind. Mrs. Cassilis. It sees a great deal better than it used to do, dear. Far better than it did when we were young people. Lady Marchmont. Anything else? Mrs. Cassilis. Not at the moment. Yes, by the way. There's Major Warrington. Lady Marchmont. You're not really going to consult that dissipated wretch? Mrs. Cassilis. I would consult the Witch of Endor if I thought she could help me — and if I knew her address. Oh I am prepared to go any lenigths. I wonder if he would elope with her for a consideration? Lady Marchmont. (shocked) Adelaide you wouldn't do that. It would be dreadful. Think of the scandal. Mrs. Cassilis. My dear if she would elope with. Watson I'd raise his wages, (rises) Lady Marchmont. Adelaide! 46 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Mrs. Cassilis. I would. Ah Margaret you've no children. You don't know how it feels to see your son wrecking his life and not be able to pre- vent it. I love my son better than anything else inthe whole world. There is nothing I wouldn't do to save him. That is how mothers are made. That's what we're for. Lady Marchmont. (slight shrug) Poor girl! Mrs. Oassilis. (vehemently) You're not to pity her, Margaret. I forbid you. She tried to steal away my son. Lady Marchmont. Still .... Mrs. Cassilis. (impatiently) Margaret don't be sentimental. The girl's not in love with Geof- frey. Anyone can see that. She's in love with his position and his money, the money he will have some day. She doesn't really care two straws for him. It was a trap, a trap from the beginning, and poor Geofif blundered into it. Lady Marchmont. She couldn't make the om- nibus horse fall down ! Mrs. Cassilis. No. That was chance. But after that she set herself to catch him, and her mother egged her on no doubt and taught her how to play her fish. And you pity her! Lady Marchmont. (soothingly) I don't really. At least I did for a moment. But I sup- pose you're right. Mrs. Cassilis. Of course I'm right. I'm Geof- frey's mother. Who should know if I don't? Mothers have eyes. If she really cared for him I should know. I might try to blind myself but I THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 47 should know. But she doesn't. And she sha'n't marry him. She sha'n't! Lady March mont. My dear don't glare at me like that. I'm not trying to make the match. Mrs. Cassilis. Was I glaring? Lady Marchmont. You looked rather tigerish. (Mrs. Cassilis gives short laugh, pause) By the way as she is not to be your daughter-in-law is it necessary to be quite so affectionate to her all the time? It rather gets on my nerves. Mrs. Cassilis. {crosses l.) It is absolutely necessary. If there were any coolness between us the girl would be on her guard and Geoffrey would take her side, (l.) That would be fatal. (coming l. c.) Geoffrey must never know how I feel towards her. No ! When this engagement is broken off I shall kiss her'affectionately at part- ing and when the carriage comes round I shall shed tears. Lady Marchmont. Why? Mrs. Cassilis. (l. c.) Because otherwise it would make a division between Geoffrey and me. And I couldn't bear that. I must keep his love whatever happens, (crosses r.) And if I have to deceive him a little to keep it, isn't that what we women always have to do? (sits r.) In fact I shall have to deceive everybody except you, Lady Remenham, Mrs. Herries, the whole county. If they once knew they would be sure to talk. Lady Remenham never does anything else, does she? And later on, when the engagement was all over and done with, Geoffrey would get to hear of it and he'd never forgive me. 48 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Lady Marchmont. My dear, your unscrupu- lousness appalls me. (Mrs. Cassilis shrugs im- patiently) Well, it's not very nice, you must ad- mit. Mrs. Cassilis. (exasperated) Nice! of course it's not nice! Good Heavens, Margaret you don't suppose I nice doing this sort of thing, do you? I do it because I must, because it's the only way to save Geoffrey. If Geoffrey married her, he'd be miserable, and I won't have that. Of course it would be pleasanter to be iperfectly straightfor- ward and tell the girl 1 detest her but if I did she'd marry Geoff if only to spite me. So I must trap her as she has trapped him. It's not a nice game but it's the only possible one. Yes, I must be on the best of terms with Ethel. And you must make friends with that appalling mother. Lady Marchmont. A^o, Adelaide ! I refuse! Mrs. Cassilis. [crosses to her, lifts her up) You must. You must. ( takes her two hands and looks into her eyes) Lady Marchmont. Very well. I'll do my best. (Mrs. Cassilis goes up r. c.) But I sha'n't come down to breakfast! There are limits to my endur- ance. And I do so hate breafasting in my room. The crumbs always get into my bed. Mrs. Cassilis. Never mind. When we've won you shall share the glory. Lady Marchmont. You are going to win? Mrs. Cassilis. (nods) I am going to win. {coming down c. a little) I've no doubt whatever about that. I've brains and she hasn't. And THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 49 brains always tell in the end. Besides she did something this morning which made me sure that I should win. Lady Maechmont. She didn't eat with her knife? Mrs. Cassilis. {sits on end of chair c.) No. She yawned. Lady Maechmont. Yawned? Mes. Cassilis. Yes. Three times. When I saw that I knew that I should win. Lady Maechmont. My dear Adelaide what do you mean? Mes. Cassilis. Girls like that can't endure boredom. They're used to excitement, the vulgar excitement of Bohemian life in London. Theatres, supper parties, plenty of fast society. She owned as much this morning. Well down here she shall be dull, oh how dull! I will see to that. The curate shall come to dinner. And old Lady Bel- lairs with her tracts and her trumpet. I've ar- ranged that it shall be a long engagement. She shall yawn to some purpose before it's over. And when she's bored she'll get cros3. You'll see. She'll begin to quarrel with her mother and nag at Geoffrey — at everyone in fact except me. I shall be too sweet to her for that ! And that will be the beginning of the end. Lady Maechmont. Well dear I think your plan diabolical but your courage is perfectly splendid and I love you for it. {rises, lays hand on her's) And now I'll go in and get ready for lunch. ( they rise. She goes e. meets Butler and Mabel) go THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Butler, (showing in Mabel in riding habit) Lady Mabel Venning. Mrs. Cassilis. (rising) Ah, Mabel dear, how are yon. (kisses her) You've ridden over? But you're going to stay hfere you know. Haven't you brought your things? Mabel. Mamma is sending them after me. It was such a perfect morning for a ride. How do you do, Lady Marchmont. Mrs. Cassilis. That's right. Watson tell them to take Lady Mabel's horse round to the stables. She will keep it here while she is with us. Then you'll be able to ride every day with Geoffrey. (to Lady Marchmont) Poor Ethel doesn't ride. Isn't it unfortunate. Lady Marchmont. Very! Mrs. Cassilis. (sits l. c.) She and Geoffrey are down at the strawberry bed spoiling their ap- petites for luncheon. Would you like to join them? Mabel. I think not thanks. It's rather hot isn't it. (comes to c.) I think I'd rather stay here with you. Mrs. Cassilis. As you please, dear. Mabel, (sits) Oh before I forget, Mamma asked me to tell you she telegraphed to Uncle Algernon yesterday and he's coming down next Wednesday. She had a letter from him this morning by the second post. It came just before I started. Such a funny letter. Mamma asked me to bring it to you to read, (gives letter, sits c.) Mrs. Cassilis. (taking it) "My dear Julia: THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 51 I am at a loss to understand to what I owe the honor of an invitation to Milverton. I thought I had forfeited all claim to it forever. I can only suppose you have at last found an heiress to marry me. If this is so I may as well say at once that unless she is both extremely rich and ex- tremely pretty I shall decline to entertain her pro- posal. My experience is that that is a somewhat unusual combination. I will be with you next Wednesday. Your affectionate brother, A. L. Warrington." (giving tack letter) That's right then. And now I think I'll just go down into the garden and tell Geoffrey you're here. No don't come too. You stay and entertain Mar- garet, [exit L. to strawberry ted) Lady Maechmont. Dear Major Warrington. He always was the most delightfully witty wicked creature. I'm so glad he's coming while I'm here. Adelaide must be sure and ask him over. Mabel. Uncle Algernon is coming over to dine this day week^ — with mamma. Lady Maechmont. To be sure. I remember. {Enter Geopfeby quickly l.) Geoffeey. Hallo, Mabel. How do you do. I didn't know you were here. Mabel. Mrs. Cassilis has just gone to tell you. Geoffeey. I know. She met us as we were coming back from eating strawberries. We've been perfect pigs. She and Ethel will be here in a moment. I ran on ahead. Lady Maechmont. [rising) Well it's close on lunch time. I shall go in and get ready, {exit e.) 52 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT, (Pause.) Geoffrey. You rode over? (Sitting on arm of chair l. c.)' Mabel. Yes, on Basil. He really is the sweet- est thing. I like him much better than Hector. Geoffrey. Poor old Hector, (sits a.) He's not so young as he was. Mabel. No. (a pause) Geoffrey. Mabel, there's something I want to ask you. Mabel. Is there? Geoffrey. Yes. But I don't know how to say it. (pause) Mabel, (gravely) Perhaps you'd better not try then? Geoffrey. I must. I feel I ought. It's about something Aunt Margaret said yesterday. . . . Mabel did you ever . . . did I ever . . . did I ever do anything to make you think I . . . I was going to ask you to marry me? Mabel. No, Geoff. Geoffrey. Sure ? Mabel. Quite sure. Geoffrey. I'm glad. Mabel. Why, GeoflE? Geoffrey. Because from what Aunt Margaret said I was afraid without intending it I'd . . . I — ^hadn't been quite honourable, (rises) Mabel. You have always been everything that is honourable, GeoflE. And everything that is kind. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 53 Geoffrey. Thank you, Mabel. You're a brick you know. And we shall always be friends, sha'n't we? Mabel. Always, (rises) Geoffeey. And you'll be friends with Ethel too? Mabel. If she'll let me. Geoffrey. Of course she'll let you. She's the dearest girl. She's ready to be friends with every- body. And she'll love you I know. You promise? (holds out hand) Mabel, (takes it) I promise. (Enter Mrs. Cassilis and Ethel affectionately, arm in arm, l. from garden.) Mrs. Cassilis. Not gone in to get ready yet, Mabel? Mabel. No. Lady Marchmont only went a minute ago. Mrs. Cassilis. (to Ethel) You've not met Mabel yet have you? I must introduce you. Miss Borridge — Lady Mabel Venning, (sweetly) I want you two to be great friends! (they shake hands, curtain begins to fall) And now come in and get ready for luncheon, (they all move to- wards house R.) Curtain. 6 1 ■■pp 54 THE CASSILIS ENGACtEMBNT. ACT III. Scene. — The smoking room at Deynham. A week has elapsed. A door r. c. leads to Billiard room. When it is open one can see passage well- lighted. It is closed when curtain rises. Fire place L. has good fire in it and is large and cosy, Saddle-hag or leather chairs, sofa, etc. A man- nish, comforta'ble room. Cigars, cigarettes, etc. Writing taile c. Piano up l. c. Window 6e hind it. Door from hall up r. Piano, a small grand so that player can 6e seen l)y audience, and singing can he heard to full advantage. Stand with music hy its side. A small tahle helow fireplace l. Sofa r. helow door, some dis- tance out from wall, set diagonally so that peo- ple sitting on it face towards piano. Immedi- ately hefore piano two armchairs with tahle be- tween them. Two armchairs, one on either side of fireplace. Card tahle r. helow fireplace be- tween armchair and wall. Paper-knife {brealc- aMe) on writing tahle c, also writing materials, ink, etc. Electric hell hy fireplace l. Another hy door r. up. The stage is empty when curtain I rises. Then enter r. Geoffrey followed a I moment later hy Major Warrington. Geoffrey, {entering n., going to door c. and looking through) All right, Warrington. They've lighted the lamps. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 55 Warrington, (enters k.) Good. Geoffrey, (at door c.) How many will you give me? Warrington, (crossing to fireplace l.) Oh, hang billiards. I'm not up to a game to-night. That was only an excuse to get away from the women. I believe that's why games were invented. But if you could get me a whisky and soda I should be your eternal debtor. Julia kept such an infernally strict watch on me all the evening I never got more than a glass and a half of cham- pagne. A fellow can't get along on that, can he? Geoffrey. I'll ring, (goes l. and rings bell above fireplace) Warrington. Do. There's a good fellow. (Geoffrey rings) Every man requires a certain amount of liquid per day. I've seen the statistics in the " Lancet." But Julia never reads the " Lancet." Women never do read anything I be- lieve. Geoffrey. Have another cigar? Warrington. Thanks. I don't mind if I do. (takes one and lights it) Aren't you going to? Geoffrey, (who looks seedy and distrait) no, thanks, (enter Footman r., with tvhisky and soda) Whisky and soda, James. Footman. Yes, sir. (puts it on small table r.) Warrington. Off your smoke? (crosses to sofa R.) Goeffrey. Yes. (pouring whisky) Say when, Warrington. When, (takes soda). You not going to have one? (crosses R. c.) Geoffrey. No. 56 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Warrington. Off your drink? Geoffrey. Yes. Warrington. That's bad. What's the mat- ter? {sits c.) Geoffrey. Oh nothing. I'm a bit out of sorts I suppose. (Pause.) Warrington. How well your mother looks to- night, by the way ! Jove what a pretty woman she is! Geoffrey. Dear mother. Warrington, (drinks) How does she like this marriage of yours? Geoffrey. All right. Warrington. Ah. Bites on the bullet. No offence my dear fellow. I like her pluck. Geoffrey, {exasperated, rises, crosses l.) I assure you you're mistaken. My mother's been kindness itself over my engagement. She's never said a word against it from the first. I believe she's the only person in this infernal county who hasn't. Warrington. Except myself. Geoffrey. Except yourself. And you think me a thundering young fool. Warrington. Oh no. Geoffrey. Oh yes. I could see you looking curiously at me all through dinner — when you weren't eating — as if I were some strange beast. You think I'm a fool right enough. Warrington, {on sofa r.) Not at all. Misa Borridge is a very pretty girl, very bright, very THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 57 amusin'. I sat next her at dinner, you know. Not quite the sort one marries, perhaps — as a rule Geoffrey. What do you mean? Warrington, (shrugs) Anyhow you're going to marry her. So much the better for her. What amuses me is your bringing her old reprobate of a mother down here. The cheek of it quite takes away my breath. Geoffrey, (sits c.) What's the matter with her mother? She's common, of course, and over- eats herself, but lots of people do that. And she's good natured. That's more than some women are. Warrington. Still she's scarcely the sort one introduces to one's mother, eh? But I'm old- fashioned, no doubt. There's no saying what you young fellows will do. Your code is peculiarly your own. (another whisky and soda) Geoffrey. (rises) Look here, Warrington, what do you mean? Warrington, (easily) Want to hit me in the eye, don't you? I know. Very natural feeling. Lots of people have it. Geoffrey. (irritally) Why shouldn't I introduce her to my mother? Warrington. Well she's a disreputable old woman, you know. She lived with Borridge for years before he married her. The. other daugh- ter's— (s;ir«£rs shoulders) And then to bring her down here and introduce her to Julia! Gad, I like your humour. Geoffrey. Are you sure? 58 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Warrington. Sure? Why it's common knowl- edge. Everybody knows old Borridge and most people loathe her. (Geoffrey goes to fire h.) I don't. I rather like her in a way. She's so splen- didly vulgar. Flings her aitches about with reck- less indifference. And I like her afifection for that girl. She's really fond of her. So much the worse for you by the way. You'll never be able to keep them apart. Geoffrey, (at fire l.) Why should I want to keep them apart? Warrington. Why should you — ? (drinks) Oh well, my dear chap, if you're satisfied — Geoffrey, (low voice) Her sister. . . . ! Poor Ethel ! Poor Ethel ! Warrington, (crosses l. with glass) My dear chap don't be so down in the mouth. There's no use fretting. I'd no idea you were so completely in the dark about all this or I wouldn't have told you. Cheer up. (to table l. c. with glass) Geoffrey. I'm glad you told me. Warrington. To think you've been engaged all this time and never found it out. What amaz- ing innocence ! Ha ! Ha ! . . . Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! Geoffrey. Don't! (sits down.h. on armchair) Warrington. Sorry, my dear boy. But it's so devilish amusing. Geoffrey, (sits below fire) How blind I've been ! How utterly blind ! Warrington, (drinks) Well, I rather like a chap who's a bit of an ass myself. Geoffrey. Poor mother! Warrington. Doesn't she know? Not about THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT 59 old Borridge? (Geoffrey shakes his head) She must! Women always do. They have an instinct about these things which is simply uncanny. It's often highly inconvenient too by the way. She probably says nothing on your account. Geoffrey. Perhaps so. Or Ethel's. She's been wonderfully kind to Ethel ever since she came down. Perhaps that's the reason, (rises) After all it's not Ethel's fault. Warrington. Of course not. (rises goes to him) Well here's luck my dear boy and I won't say may you never repent it, but may you put off repenting it as long as possible. That's the best one can hope of most marriages. Geoffrey. Thanks ! Warrington. Well it's been an uncommon amusin' evening. Mrs. Herries' face has been a study for a life-time. And as for Julia's — oh out- raged respectability ! What a joy it is ! (Enter the other guests from draicing-room.u.. Laoy Eemenham, Lady Marchmont, Mrs. Her- ries, Mrs. Borridge, Ethel, Mabel. Then the Eector and Mrs. Cassilis. They enter with a hum of conversation.) Eector. (crosses l.) Well, he's a disreputable poaching fellow. It's no more than he deserved. Mrs. Cassilis. (crosses to fire l., sits 'below on armchair) Still I'm sorry for his wife. Mrs. Herries. I'll send down to her in the morning and see if she wants anything. Mrs. Borridge. So this is where you gentlemen have got to. 60 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Geoffrey. I brought Major Warrington to smoke a cigar. Lady Kemenham. (e. c, looks fixedly at whisky, then at Warrington) Algernon! Warrington, (l.) My dear Julia, I believe there is nothing unusual in a man's requiring one whisky and soda at this time in the evening. Lady Eemenham. I trust it has been only one. (sits on sofa r., Warrington finishes glass and puts it down l. on mantelpiece) ' Warrington. Whom have you been sending to jail for poaching now, Rector? No Justice's jus- tice I hope ! Rector. Old Murcatt. He's one of Mrs. Cassilis's tenants. A most unsatisfactory fellow. He was caught red-handed laying a snare in the Milverton woods. It was a clear case. (Ethel stifles a yawn, Warrington rises goes to stand at piano) Ethel, {up c.) I should have thought there was no great harm in that. Rector. My dear young lady ! Mrs. Cassilis. Take care, Ethel dear. An Englishman's hares are sacred. Mrs. Borridge. {crosses l. c.) How silly! I can't bear 'are myself, {crosses l. c, sits) {Pause.) Rector, {at fire) You'll have plenty of part- ridges this year Mrs. Cassilis. We started five coveys as we drove here. Mrs. Cassilis. We generally have a good many. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 61 (Pause.) (Ethel stifling another yawn strolls to piano, opens it and strikes a note or two idly.) Mabel. You play I know, Ethel. Won't you play something? Ethel, (sulkily) No. (turns away, crosses down L. to fire) (Pause.) Mrs. Hbrries. I saw you out riding to-day, Mabel. I looked in at Dobson's cottage. Poor fellow, I'm afraid he's very ill. Mabel, (comes c, sits) Yes. I was with Geoffrey. We had a long ride, all through Lower Milverton and Carbury to Mirstoke. It was de- lightful. Mrs. Borridge. (to MrS. Herries) Your hus- band has a lot of that sort of thing to do down here, I suppose, Mrs. 'Erris? Mrs. Hbrries. When people are ill they gen- erally like a visit from a clergyman, don't they? Mrs. Borridge. Well there's no accounting for tastes. My 'usband, vfhen he was ill wouldn't 'ave a parson near 'im. Said it gave 'im the creeps. (Pause. Warrington crosses at hack to r.) Lady Marchmont. (crosses to fire, coming to rescue) How sensible of you to have a fire, Ade- laide. Mrs. Cassilis. It is pleasant, isn't it? These July evenings are often cold in the country. 62 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. (Ethel stifles prodigious yawn) Geoffrey, (rises, crosses at hack to piano) Tired, Ethel? Ethel, (pettishly) No. (turns away) (Pause.) Mrs. Cassilis. (l.) Won't somebody play billiards? Are the lamps lighted, Geoffrey? Geoffrey. Yes, mother. Mrs. Cassilis. Or shall we play Pyramids? Then we can all join in. You'U play, Mrs. Bor- ridge, I'm sure? Mrs. Borridge. I'm on. Mrs. Cassilis. Yon, Lady Eemenham? (crosses r. c.) Lady Eemenham. (rises, crosses l.) No, thanks. Mrs. Herries and I are going to stay by the Are and talk about the Rector's last sermon. (the Rector raises hands in horror) Mrs. Cassilis. (crosses r.) You, Margaret? Lady Marchmont. No, really. I've never played Pyramids in my life. Mrs. Borridge. (coming c.) Then it's 'igh time you began, Lady Marchmont. I'll teach you. (Rector at fire) (Mrs. Cassilis looks entreaty. Lady March- mont smiles.) Lady Marchmont. (rises, coming c.) Very well, (to Mrs. Borridge) To please you, dear Mrs. Borridge! (Exit, Lady Eemenham sits in armchair ahove fire l.) THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 63 Mrs. Cassilis. You, Mabel? That's three. (Mabel and Lady Marchmont go off c. together) Ethel four. Ethel. No thank you, Mrs. Cassilis. I won't play, (coming l. c.) Mrs. Borridge. Why not, Eth. You're a nailer at Pyramids. Ethel, {pettishly, going down R.) Because I'd rather not, mother, {turns away) Mrs. Borridge. All right, dearie. You needn't snap my nose off. {exit c.) Mrs. Cassilis. Geoffrey Five. The Rector six. {going up r. c.) Rector, ^'ery well, if you won't play for money. I've no conscientious objections to play- ing for money but whenever I do it I always lose. Which comes to the same thing, {exit c.) Mrs. Cassilis. {up r. c.) You, Major War- rington, of course? Warrington, {down R. cross to l. c. up, laugh- ing) No thanks. I shall stay here and flirt with Mrs. Herries. Mrs. Cassilis. {up l. c.) Very well. How many did I say? Six wasn't it. And myself seven. Coming Geoff? Geoffrey. All right, mother. (Mrs. Cassilis takes his arm and leads him off c) Lady Remenham. Now Mrs. Herries draw up that chair to the fire and we'll talk scandal. Warrington, (cross to fireplace, l.) The Rec- tor's sermon Julia! {takes glass puts it lack again) Lady Remenham. Algernon! (he stops dead) 64 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. {The two ladies plunge into conversation before fireplace r. Ethel is strolling aimlessly about. Presently she goes to writing table c. sits down facing audience and fidgets with paperknife. Yawns heartily.) Warrington, (going to her) Bored, Miss Bor ridge? Ethel. I wonder. Warrington, {sits at table l. of table c.) I don't, {she lavghs) Life isn't very lively down here till the shooting begins. Ethel. I don't shoot. So I'm afraid that won't help me much. Warrington. I remember. Nor ride, I think you told me? Ethel, (yawns) Nor ride. Warrington. Gad. I'm sorry for you. Ethel, (looking curiously at Mm) I believe you really are. Warrington. Of course I am. Ethel. I don't know about " of course." Ex- cept for Mrs. Cassilis — and poor Geoff — who doesn't count — I don't find much sympathy in this part of the country. Heigho! How they hate me. Warrington. No. No. (Mrs. Herries gets table and cards from down R. puts table before fire between herself and Lady Eemenham.) Ethel. Oh yes they do. Every one of them. From Watson who pours out my claret at dinner THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 65 and would dearly love to poison it to your sister who is glaring at us at this moment. Warrington. {looking up and laughing) Dear Julia. She never had any manners. Ethel. She's no worse than the rest. Mrs. Herries would do just the same if she dared. As for Mabel — (Mrs. Herries and Lady Remenham playing their cards.) Warrington. Don't hit it ofE with Mabel? Ethel. Oh we don't quarrel if that's what you mean or call one another names across the table. I wish we did. I could beat her at that. We're as civil as the Devil, {he laughs) What are you laughing at? Warrington. Only at the picturesqueness of your language. Ethel. Is that all? Yes Mabel despises me and I hate her. Warrington. Why ? Ethel, {wearily) Because we're different I suppose. She's everything I'm not. She's well- born and well-bred. Her father's an earl. Mine was a book-maker. Warrington. Is that all? Ethel. {Utterly) No. She's running after Geoffrey. (Warrington shrugs) She is! Warrington, {shrugs) Jealous? Ethel. Yes, I am jealous. Little beast. {picks up flimsy paper-knife) I'd like to kill her. {makes savage jah with knife. It promptly hreaks) 66 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Warrington, {taking auay pieces) Don't be violent, [takes pieces and carries them blandly to fire. Ethel stares straight in front of her) (Lady Remenham and Mrs. Herribs have teen talking in durrih-show. Their conversation sud- denly grows audible.) Lady Eembnham. (to Mrs. Herries) Such a common little thing too! And / don't even call her pretty. Mrs. Herries. It's curious how Mrs. Cassilis seems to have taken to her. Lady Remenham. Yes. She even tolerates, that awful mother. (Warrington crosses i,., ir- ritably) What is it, Algernon? Warrington, (blandly) Only a little acci- dent with a paper-knife. (Lady Remenham grunts. Warrington returns to Ethel c.) Mrs. Herries. For GeoflErey's sake of course. She's so devoted to him. Lady Remenham. It may be that. I'm in- clined to think her mind has given way a little. I asked her about it last week, (half-way through this scene the two ladies notice that the others are no longer speaking and drop their voices to a stage aside. Ethel glares) Warrington, (returning to Ethel, sits above her on settee. Lady Remenham and Mrs. Hee- Eis resume talk in dumb show) You were going to tell me what makes you think Mabel is in love with Geoffrey. Ethel. Was I? Warrington. Weren't you? THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 67 Ethel. Well, perhaps I will. Warrington. Go ahead. Ethel. She's staying here and they're always together. They ride almost every morning. I can't ride, you know. And Geoffrey loves it. Warrington. You should take to it. Ethel. I did try one day. They were just starting when I suddenly said I'd like to go with them. Warrington, {eyebrows up) What did they say to that? Ethel. Oh Mabel pretended to be as pleased as possible. She lent me an old habit and Geoff said they'd let me have a horse that was as quiet as a lamb. Horrid kicking beast! Warrington. What horse was it? Ethel. It was called Jasmine or some such name. Warrington. Mrs. Cassilis's mare? Why, my dear girl she hasn't a kick in her. Ethel. Hasn't she! . . . Anyhow we started. So long as we walked it was all right and I began to think I might actually get to like it. But soon we began to trot — and that was awful. I simply screamed. The beast stopped at once. But I went on screaming till they got me off. Warrington. What did Geoff say? Ethel. Nothing. But he looked terrible. Oh how he despised me! Warrington. Poor girl. Ethel. They brought me back, walking all the way. And Geoff offered to give up riding in the mornings if I liked. (Warrington whistles) 68 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. But of course I had to say no. So now they go out together every day and often don't come back till lunch. . Warrington, {goes to r. end of writing table sits) And what do t/OM do ? Ethel, {shrugs) I sit at home and yawn and yawn, {does so) Mrs. Cassilis takes me out driv- ing sometimes. She does what she can to amuse me. But of course she's busy in the mornings. Warrington. What does Mrs. Borridge do? Ethel. Oh Lady Marchmont looks after her. I believe she gets a kind of pleasure in leading her on and watching her make a fool of herself. Old cat! And mother sees nothing. She's as pleased with herself as possible. She actually made Lady Marchmont promise to come and stay with us in London ! Warrington. Bravo Mrs. Borridge! Ethel. So I sit here or in the drawing room with a book or the newspaper and I'm bored! bored ! Warrington. And Geoffrey? Ethel. He doesn't seem to notice. If I say anything to him about it he just says I'm not well! He's very kind and tries to find things to amuse me but it's a strain. And so it goes on day after day. Heigho! Warrington, {goes to her sits r. c.) {pause) Well my dear I admire your courage. Ethel. What do you mean? Warrington. A lifetime of this ! Year in year out. Till you can yawn yourself decently into your grave. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 69 Ethel, (alarmed) But it won't always be like this. We sha'n't live here, Geoflf and I. Warrington. Oh yes you will. Mrs. Oassilis was talking only at dinner of the little house she was going to furnish for you both down here, just on the edge of the Park. So that you could al- ways be near her. Ethel. But Geoff has his profession. Warrington. His profession is only a name. He makes nothing at it. And never will. Geof- frey's profession is to be a country gentleman and shoot pheasants. Ethel. But we shall have a house in London as well. Warrington. Not you. As long as his mother lives Geoffrey will be dependent on her you know. He has nothing worth calling an income of his own. And he's proud. He won't accept more from her than he's obliged even if her trustees would allow her to hand over anything sub- tantial to him on his marriage — which they wouldn't. Ethel. I shall refuse to live down here. Warrington. My dear you won't be asked. You'll have to live where Mrs. Cassiiis provides a house for you. Besides Geoff will prefer it. He likes the country and he's devoted to his toother. Ethel. Phew, [rises crosses c.) Warrington. Happily it won't last forever. I daresay you'll have killed poor Mrs. Cassiiis off in a dozen years or so. Though you never know how long people will last nowadays by the way. These modern doctors are the devil. 70 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. EiHEL. Kill her oflE? ^hat do you mean? I don't want to kill Mrs. Cas^ilis. I like her. Warrington, (rises goes to her sits on writing tahle) My dear young lady you don't suppose you'll be able to stand this sort of thing do you? Oh no. You'll kick over the traces and there'll be no end of a scandal and Geoff'll blow his brains out — if he's got any — and she'll break her heart and that'll be the end of it. Ethel. It won't, (sits l. of writing taMe) Warrington. Oh yes it will. You don't know what County Society is. The dullness of it! How it eats into your bones. / do. Ethel. Does it bore you too? Warrington. Bore? It bores me to tears! I'm not a bad lot really. At least no worse than most middle-aged bachelors. But Julia thinks me an utterly abandoned character and I take care not to undeceive her. Why? Because I find Milverton so intolerable. I used to come down every Christmas. One of those ghastly family re- unions. A sort of wake without the corpse. At last I couldn't stand it and did something per- fectly outrageous. I forget what. But I know the servants all gave warning. So now I'm sup- posed to be thoroughly disreputable and that ass Eemenham won't have me asked to the house. Thank Heaven for that. Ethel. But Geoff likes the country. Warrington. I daresay. But Geoffrey and I are different. So are Geoffrey and you. You ^nd I are town birds. He's a country bumpkin. / know the breed ! THE CASSlLIS ENGAGEMENT. 71 Ethel. And I shall have to stand this all my ' life! All my life! I won't! I won't! Warrington. You will ! Ethel. I won't I tell you! (Warrington sMugs) It's too sickening. {pause, eagerly, dropping her voice) I say let's go off to Paris, you and I, and leave all this. It'd be awful fun. Warrington, (appalled, looks nervously l.) Hush! Hush! For God's sake, Julia'll hear. Ethel, (lower voice.) Never mind. What does it matter? Let's go. You'd enjoy it like anything. We'd have no end of a good time. Warrington, (desperately) My dear young lady haven't I just told you I'm not that sort at all. I'm a perfectly respectable person of rather austere morality than otherwise. Ethel. Eot! You'll come? (takes his arm) Warrington. No. I won't, (getting of table) I decline. I can't go off with the girl my host is going to marry. It wouldn't be decent. Be- sides, I don't want to go off with anybody. Ethel, (depressed) You won't? Warrington, (testily) No, I won't. And for goodness sake speak lower. Julia's listening with all her ears. Ethel. Poor Major Warrington. How I scared you! Warrington. I should think you did. I'm not so young as I was. A few years ago a little thing 'like that never made me turn a hair. Now I can't stand it. (wipes his Irow) 72 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Ethel. You've gone through it before, then? (Warrington sits.) Warrington. More than once, my dear. Ethel, (rises) And now you'll look down on me too. Warrington. On the contrary, I admire you immensely. In fact, I don't know which I admire more, your pluck or your truly marvellous self- control. To ask me to go oflf with you without letting Julia hear! (looking anxiously towards her) It was masterly. Ethel, (sighs) Well, I suppose I shall have to marry Gebflf after all. WARHiisTGTON. I suppose SO. Uulcss you could go off with the Rector? (she laughs shrilly). (The two ladies turn sharply and glare). Ethel. Now I've shocked your sister again. Warrington. You have. She thinks I'm flirt- ing with you. That means I sha'n't be asked down to Milverton for another five years. Thank Heaven for that! Ah, here are the billiard play- ers, (rises) (Goes down e. Ethel sits c.) Geoffrey, (opening door c, stands to let her pass. To Mabel) You fluked outrageously, you know. Mabel. (entering) I didn't. (coming to writing table.) Geoffrey. Oh, yes you did. Didn't she, mother? Mrs. Cassilis. Disgracefully, (stops up c.) THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 73 {During this Mrs. Bokeidge, Lady Maechmont, Rbctok, Mes. Cassilis^ Mabel, enter, followed 'by Geoffrey.) (Mabel c, Mrs. Cassilis goes to l. c. to chair down L.) Mrs. Boreidge. (going down r. c.) You'll soon learn, Lady Marchmont, if you practice a bit. Lady Maechmont. Do you think so? [fol- lowing her down r., sits on sofa) Lady Eemenham. Well, who won. Rector? Mrs. Boreidge. /did! (crosses l. c.) Lady Eemenham. {frigidly, rises, comes l. c. to Geoffrey) Indeed? {rises and goes towards c.) Mrs. Borridge. Why didn't you play, Mrs. 'Erris? {at l. c.) Mrs. Hereies. I never play games. Mes. Boeeidge. You should learn. I'd teach you. Mes. Heeeies. Thank you. I fear I have no time. {rises, goes up l. c. and joins Lady Rembnham.) Mes. Cassilis. (c. at lack) Ethel dear, we missed you sadly. I hope you haven't been dull? Ethel, {with hysterical laugh) Not at all. Major Warrington has been entertaining me. (Mes. Cassilis crosses to Rector.) Eectoe. I suspect Miss Borridge felt there would be no opponent worthy of her steel. (Ethel shrugs her shoulders rudely. He turns away.) 74 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Mrs. Cassilis. I wonder if we could have some music now. Mabel dear, won't you sing to us? Mabel. I've got nothing with me. Geoffrey. Do sing Mabel. There'll be lots of things you know here. (Geoffrey opens the piano) Let me find something. Schumann? Mabel, (shakes head) I think not. (joins him in searching music stand.) Mrs. Cassilis. Sing us that Schubert song you sang when we were dining with you last, dear. (goes to Rector.) Mabel, (rises) Very well, (goes to Geof- frey) Where's Schubert, Geoffrey? (Warrington works round to chair c.) Ethel, (to Warrington) Do you see that? (watching Geoffrey's and Mabel's heads in close proximity^ takes step forward. Warrington holds her hack.) Warrington. Hush. Be quiet for heaven's sake. Ethel. The little cat! Mabel. Here it is. Geoff, don't be silly. (turns to piano) Mrs. Cassilis. Can you see there? (Mabel on music stool. Geoffrey standing a'bove piano l. c. Lady Rembnham and Lady March MONT on sofa r., Mrs. Borridge on chair R. c. ielow piano, Mrs. Cassilis on chair l. c. helow piano. Mrs. Herries in armchair above THE3 CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 75 ■fireplace l. Eectoe in armchair ielow fire- place. Ethel in chair c, Warrington in chair R. c. iy her.) Mabel. Yes, thank you. {she sings two verses of Schubert's "Adieu," in German, very simply in a small but sweet voice. Geoffrey stands by listening. Ethel glares at both. When it is over Mabel rises at once and leaves piano.) {crosses, goes r. c. at back.) {While Mabel sings, the bye play of the listeners is all important. Lady Remenham sits on sofa in attitude of seraphic appreciation of a daugh- ter's efforts. Mrs. Herries gently beats time with her fan. Lady Maechmont displays po- lite attention. Mrs. Cassilis is sweetly ap- preciative. Mrs. Boeridge's face is, on the contrary, a study. She begins by settling her- self to listen quite contentedly. When she' finds the, song is in German, she looks puzzled and disgusted. Then she yawns frankly and fidgets. During the symphony, between the verses, she attempts to talk to Mrs. Cassilis, evidently thinking the song ovef. Mrs. Cassilis makes sign of silence gently. Verse two begins, Mrs. BoRRiDGE more disgusted. A second yawn. Then she frankly nods, closes her eyes, her head droops forward, then sideways. She sleeps. At close of song she wakes with a start. Ethel turns defiantly to Mabel to listen to first few bars of song. Then finding she's not a danger- ous rival in singing, turns contemptuously 76 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. round facing the audience and fidgets. Wae- RiNGTON throws Mmself hack in his chair and contemplates the ceiling resignedly through first verse. During second verse he and Ethel tegin to talk. Lady Rbmenham swings round on them and glares indignantly. They stop suddenly, and Warrington once more contem- plates the ceiling. Lady Eemenham, however, keeps them under Iter eye till the song ends.) Geoffrey, (clapping) Bravo! Bravo! Eectoe. Charming, charming, {rises, goes up L. c.) Lady Marchmont. {to Lady Eemenham) What a sweet voice she has. Mrs. Cassilis. Thank you, dear. Rector, {to Mabel) Now we must have an- other. Geoffrey. Do, Mabel. Mabel. No. That's quite enough. (Geoffrey and Mabel up r. c.)' Rector. Miss Borridge, you sing I'm sure? {up c.) Mrs. Borridge. Do, dearie. My girl has a wonderful voice. Lady Remling. Quite like a professional. Old Jenkins at the Tiv. used to say she'd make a fortune in the 'alls. (Rector crosses at lack to md of sofa.) Lady Remenham. Indeed! Ethel. I don't think I've any songs anyone here would care for. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 77 Mrs. Boeridge. Nonsense, dearie. You've lots of songs. Give tliem " The Cliildren's 'ome." Ethel. Well, I'll sing if you like. Geoffrey, (going to her) Shall I find you something, Ethel ? Ethel, (snaps) No! (Geoffrey turns away snubhed, and joins Mabel up r.) (Ethel goes to piano. Warrington follows after a moment and stands behind piano l. c. Ethel turns for a moment and looks at Geoffrey, who is standing by Mabel. Then without pre- lude of any kind, strikes into the following re- fined ditty. She sings with perfect mastery of her method, with a big voice, slight cockney accent, and a good deal of humour. As she warms to her work she puts in illustrative ac- tion of a boisterous sort, always with consider- able art.) When Joey takes me for a walk, me an' my sis- ter Lue, 'E puts 'is arms round both our waists as lots o' men will do. We don't allow no liberties and so we tells 'im plain, And Joey says 'e's sorry— but 'e does the same again ! (spoken) Well, we're not going to have that, you know. Not likely. We're not that sort. So we just says to 'im : — * Any popular music hall song may be substituted for this providing it is of a rowdy kind. " Waiting at the Church " was the one sung at the original performance. 78 THE CASSILIS BNGAOEMENT. {Chorus.) Stop that, Joey, stop it, Joe, Stop that ticklin' when I tell yer toe! You're too free to suit a girl like me, Just you stop that ticklin' or I'll slap yer! When Joe an' me is man an' wife, — I thinks 'e loves me true — I 'opes 'e'll go on ticklin' me an' leave off ticklin' Lue. 'E'll 'ave to leave the girls alone and mind what 'e's about, Oi 'im an' me an' Lucy '11 pretty soon fall out. (spoken) Yes, I'm not going to put up with that sort of thing once we're married. Not I. If 'e tries it on I shall sing out straight: (Ghorus.) Stop that, Joey, chuck it, Joe, Drop that ticklin' when I tell yer toe, You're too free to suit a girl like me. Just you stop that ticklin' or I'll slap yer! {spoken) Now then, all of you: {looks across impudently to Lady Rbmenham). {Bye-play for Ethel's song. The listeners legin hy settling themselves comfortaMy into their chairs prepared to think of something else, as English people do during after dinner music when the performer is of no social importance. But after a dozen hars of verse one are over they tegin to listen. As the song proceeds their wrathful amazement grows. Lady Remenham THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 79 turns mutely to the Rector for sympathy. Then to Mrs. Herries. As the song grows 'broader she fans herself angrily and whispers a moment to Lady MarchMont. Mrs. Cas- siLLis remains calm and sweet without moving a muscle of her face. Geoffrey and Mabel look uncomfortable. Only Warrington and Mrs. Borridge are enjoying the song. Warring- ton mischievously, Mrs. Borridge with frank pride. She beats time to the first chorus and joins in in the second in stentorian tones while Warrington beats time on the piano. Geof- frey, half-way through verse two, leaves Ma- bel's side and stands behind writing table, looking full at audience, his face showing his disapproval of the whole performance.) (Chorus fortissimo,^ joined by her delighted mother, winding up by slapping Warrington soundly on the cheek by way of illustration. Then rises, flushed and excited, from piano, congratulated by Warrington, and stands c. by piano.) Warrington. Splendid, by Jove, capital. (After the slap and Warrington's " capital," there is a horrified hush on the part of everyone save Mrs. Borridge, who goes on clapping her . hands joyfully and crying, " That's right, Eth. Give 'em another." Mrs. Cassilis alone makes no sign, Lady Ebmbnham glares disapproval. At last Mrs. Borridge becomes conscious of the awful silence surrounding her and becomes silent too. She looks around, puzzled and 80 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. frightened^ then realizes that no one else is ap- plauding^ subsides into her chair, from which she had risen in her excitement, and hurriedly straightens her hair. Pause.) Mrs. Cassilis. . (rises) Won't" you come to the fire Ethel? You must be cold out there. Ethel, (up R. c.) Thank you, Mrs. Cassilis, I'm not cold. (Mrs. Cassilis turns to Mrs. Herries. Geoffrey comes down r. c.) Warrington, (up c.) Jove, Miss Borridge. I'd no idea you could sing like that. Ethel. Kor had Geoffrey. (Geoffrey goes up to Mabel again. Ethel and Warrington chat together up) (Mrs. Cassilis comes c.) Lady Eemenham (rising) Well we must be getting home. Geoffrey, will you ask if the car- r'age is round. Geoffrey. Certainly, Lady Eemenham. (rings electric iell up r.) Mrs. Herries. We must be going too. Come Hildebrand. (rising.) Lady Remenham. Are you coming with us, Mabel? Mrs. Cassilis. (crosses to r. c.) Oh, no, I can't spare Mabel yet. She has promised to stay a few days more. Lady Eemenham. Very well, (enter Butler.) Geoffrey. Lady Eemenham's carriage. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 81 Butler. It's at the door, Sir. Geoffrey. Very well, (exit Butler) Lady Remenham. Good-bye then, dear. Such a pleasant evening. Good night Mabel. We shall expect you when we see you. (general leave tak- ings) Mrs. Herries. Good-bye, Mrs. Cassilis. Mrs. Borridge. Good night, Lady Remling. (holds out hand) Lady Remenham. Good night, (sweeps past her with icy low. Mrs. Borridge retires crushed to a chair lielow fire-place i.., and consoles herself with illustrated paper) Lady Remenham. Algernon ! Warrington. Coming, Julia, (to Ethel) See you in London, then. Geoffrey, (stiffly) You'll take another cigar Warrington — to light you home? Warringham. Thanks. Don't mind if I do. (Geoffrey hands hox) Lady Remenham. Algernon! We're going to get on our wraps, (exeunt Mrs. Cassilis and Lady Remenham, Mr. and Mrs. Herries r. Geoffrey down r.) (Mabel joins Lady March mont up r.) Warrington. All right, Julia. I shall be ready as soon as you are. Geoffrey, (at door r.) Help yourself, War- rington, (exit r.) Warrington, (to Ethel, after helping himself to drink) Well, my dear, I'm afraid you've done it this time I 82 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Ethel. Done what? Warrington. Shocked them to some purpose! It was magnificent, but it was scarcely tactics, eh? Ethel. I suppose not. But I wanted to shock them! Here have they been despising me all the evening for nothing, and when that detestable girl with a voice like a white mouse sang her German Jargon, praising her sky-high ! I said I'd show them what singing means. And I did! Warrington. You certainly did! Ha! ha! You should have seen Julia's face when you boxed my ears. If the earth had opened her mouth and swallowed you up like Korah, Dathan and the other fellow, it couldn't have opened wider than Julia's. Ethel. Well, she can scowl if she likes. She can't hurt me now. Warrington. I'm not so sure of that. Ethel. She'll have to hurry up. We go to- morrow. Warrington. Ah, I didn't know. Well, there's nothing like exploding a bomb before you leave, eh? Only it's not always safe — for the operator. Geoffrey, (re-enter Geoffrey r. imth Mrs. Cassilis) The carriage is round, Warrington. Lady Eemenham's waiting. Warrington. The deuce she is. (swallows whisky and soda) I must fly. Good-bye again, Good-bye Mrs. Cassilis. A thousand thanks for a most interesting evening, (exit with Geof- frey, pause. Ethel stands sullen ty fire-place) Mrs. Boeridgb. (yawning) Well I think I THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 83 shall turn in. (crosses to r. c.) Good night, Mrs. Cassilis. (general handshake) Coming, Eth? Ethel. In a moment, mother. Good night. (eccit Mrs. Borridge r.) (Mabel and Lady Marchmont up r., come down R., re-enter Geoffrey r.) Lady Marchmont. I must be off, too. And so must you, Mabel. You look tired out. (kisses Mrs. Cassilis. Geoffrey opens door r.) Mabel. I am a little tired. Good night. (hand shake to Lady Marchmont and Geoffrey. Mrs. Cassilis kisses her in passing. (Exeunt Lady Marchmont and Mabel.) Geoffrey. Are you going, mother? Mrs. Cassilis. Not at once. I've a couple of notes to write. (Geoffrey crosses to fire. Mrs. Cassilis goes to writing taMe centre, sits facing audience and appears to iegin to write notes. Geoffrey goes up to Ethel thoughtfully. A silence, then. ) Geoffrey. Ethel. Ethel. Yes. (at fire, doesn't move) Geoffrey. Why did you sing that song to- night? EtheI'. To please Lady Eemenham! Geoffrey. But, Ethel ! That's not the sort of song Lady Eemenham likes at all. Ethel. To shock her, then. Geoffrey. Ethel ! 84 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Ethel. I think I managed it, too! Geoffrey. I don't understand. You're joking, aren't you? Ethel. Joking ! Geoffrey. I mean, you didn't really do it on purpose, to make Lady Kemenham angry. I'm sure you didn't. Ethel. I tell you I did it on purpose, deliber- ately, to shock Lady Eemenham. I suppose I ought to know. Geoffrey. But why? What made you do such a thing? Ethel., (savagely) I did it because I choose. Is that plain enough? Geoffrey. Still you must have had a reason, (no answer, pause) Did that fellow Warrington tell you to sing it? Ethel. No. Geoffrey. I thought perhaps. . . . Anyhow promise me not to sing such a song again here. {silence) You will promise? Ethel. Pooh ! Geoffrey. Ethel, be reasonable. You must know you can't go on doing that sort of thing here. When we are married we shall live down here. You must conform to the ideas of the peo- ple round you. They may seem to you narrow and ridiculous, but you can't alter them. Ethel. Tou don't think them narrow and ridiculous, I suppose? Geoffrey. No. In this case I think they are right. In many cases. Ethel. Sorry I can't agree with you. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 85 Geoffrey. Ethel, dear, don't let us quarrel about a silly thing like this. If you are going to marry me you must take my judgment on a mat- ter of this kind. Ethel. Must I ! Geoffrey. Yes. Ethel. Then I won't. So there. I shall do just exactly as I please. And if you don't like it you can do the other thing. I'm not going to be bullied by you. Geoffrey, (goes to her) My dear Ethel, I'm sure I am never likely to bully you or to do or say anything that is unkind. But on a point like this I can't give way. Ethel. Very well, Geoff. If you think that you'd better break off our engagement, that's all. Geoffrey. Ethel ! (with horror) Ethel. Well there's nothing to make faces about, is there! Geoffrey. You don't mean that. You don't mean you want our engagement to come to an end. Ethel. Never mind what / want. What do you want? Geoffrey. Of course I want it to go on. You know that. Ethel, (gesture of despair) Very well then. You'd better behave a'ccordingly. And now, if you've finished your lecture, I'll go to bed. Good night. (Mrs. Cassilis comes down c. Geof- frey sees her off opening door r. Then goes and stands hy fire. Mrs. Cassilis, who has watched this scene intently with smile of grim satisfaction, 86 THE CASSILIS ENOAGEMENT. rises. She pauses for a mmute in thought. Then.) Mrs. Cassilis. Well I must be oflE too ! Good night Geoffrey, {kisses him) Geoffrey, (absently) Good night, mother. (Mrs. Cassilis after a moment goes slowly to- wards door. Pause) Mother. Mrs. Cassilis. Yes, Geoff. Geoffrey. Mother, You don't think I was un- reasonable in what I said to Ethel, do you? Mrs. Cassilis. No, Geoff, Geoffrey. Or unkind? Mrs. Cassilis. No, Geoff. Geoffrey. I was afraid. She took it so strangely. Mrs. Cassilis. She's rather over-excited to- night, I think. And tired, no doubt. She'll be all right in the morning. Geoffrey. You think I did right to speak to her about that song? Mrs. Cassilis. Quite right, dear. Dear Ethel still has a little to learn, and of course it will take time. But we must be patient. Meantime, whenever she makes any little mistake, such as she made to-night, I think you should certainly speak to her about it. It will be such a help to her ! I don't mean seold her, of course, but speak to her gently and kindly, just as you did to-night. Geoffrey, (despondently) It didn't seem to do any good. Mrs. Cassilis. One never knows, dear. Good night, (kisses him. Exit. He stands thoughtful hy fire) Curtain. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 87 ACT IV. Scene. — The morning room at Deynham. After ireakfast next day. A pleasant room with French windows c, open on to terrace. The sun is shining brilliantly. Door to hall l. Back cloth represents garden scene. Sofa c. up stage facing audience in front of window, but rather to l. of it. Room to pass behind it. Armchair to r. of sofa. Room to pass between it and end of sofa to go out into garden. An- other sofa, smaller, stands out at right angles from wall R. above fireplace. Electric bell by fireplace at end of sofa. Armchairs up r. c. and R. down. Small table l. c. with chair by it. Armchair l. rather below door some way out from wall. When curtain rises Mabel and Geoffrey are on stage. Geoffrey stands by fire-place r. Mabel strolls to window c. He looks rather out of sorts and dull.) Mabel, {at window) What a lovely day. Geoffrey.. Not bad. {pulls out cigarette case) Mabel. I'm sure you smoke too much, Geof- frey. Geoffrey, {smiles) I think not. {enter Mrs. Cassilis l.) Mrs. Cassilis. Not gone out yet, dears? Why Mabel you've not got your habit on. 88 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Mabel. We're not going to ride this taorning. Mrs. Cassilis. Not going to ride? Mabel. No. We've decided to stay at home to-day for a change. Mrs. Cassilis. But why, dear? Mabel. I don't know. We just thought so. That's all. Mrs. Cassilis. But you must have some rea- son. You and Geoffrey haven't been quarrelling, have you? Mabel. Of course not. Mrs. Cassilis. Then why aren't you going to ride? Mabel. Well, we thought Ethel might be dull if we left her all alone. Mrs. Cassilis. Nonsense dears. I'll look after Ethel. Go up and change both of you at once. Ethel would be dreadfully grieved if you gave up your ride for her. Ethel's not selfish. She would never allow you or Geoffrey to give up a pleasure on her account, (crosses r.) Gbofpret. Well, Mabel, what do you say? It is a ripping day. Mabel. If Mrs. Cassilis thinks so. Mrs. Cassilis. Of course I think so. Kun away dears and get your things on. I'll tell thein to send around the horses, (rings) Geoffrey. All right. Just for an hour. Come on, Mabel. I'll race you to the end of the pas- sage, (exeunt running, nearly upsetting footman who enters l. at the same moment) * * Note that the time allowed for Mabel's change of dress is very short. It is therefore important to arrange that the THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 89 Mrs. Cassilis. Lady Mabel and Mr. Geoffrey are going out riding. Tell them to send the horse.^ round. And tell Hallard I want to see him about those roses. I'm going into the garden now. Footman. Very well, Madam, (exit l.) (Mrs. Cassius goes out c. A moment later enter Mrs. Borridge and Ethel l.) Mrs. Borridge. (looking round, then going to easy-chair) Mrs. Cassilis isn't here? Ethel. I daresay she's with the housekeeper. Mrs. Borridge. Very likely, (picks up news- paper) Give me a cushion, there's a good girl. (Ethel does so) Lady Marchmont isn't down yet, I suppose. Ethel. No. (turns away) Mrs. Borridge. (putting dotvn paper) What's the matter, dearie? You look awfully down. Ethel. Nothing. (goes to window c. and stares out into the sunlight) Mrs. Borridge. I wish Lady Marchmont came down to breakfast of a morning. Ethel, (shrugs) Do you? Mrs. Borridge. Yes. It's dull without her. She and I are getting quite chummy. Ethel, (irritably, swinging rotmd) Chummy! My dear mother. Lady Marchmont's only laugh- ing at you. Mrs. Borridge. Nonsense, Ethel. Laughing at me, indeed! I should like to see her! ■ change shall be as easily made as possible so as to avoid any danger of a stage " wait." 90 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Ethel. That's just it, mother. You never will. Mes. Boeeidgb. Pray what do you me.in by that, Miss? Ethel. (hopeless) Oh, it doesn't matter. (goes E. to fire-place, leans arm on mantel-piece.) Mes. Bobeidge. Now you're sneering at me, and I won't 'ave it — have it. (silence) Do you 'ear? Ethel. Yes I hear. (sia"e!i down at fenrJer.) Mes. Boeeidge. Very well then. Don't let me 'ave any more of it. (grumWng to herself) Laughing indeed! (pause) Where's Geoffrey? Ethel. I don't know. Mes. Boeeidge. Out riding, I suppose? Ethel. Very likely. Mes. Boeeidge. 'E only finished breakfast just before us. Ethel. He, mother. Mes. Boeeidge. Dear, dear, 'ow you do go on! You leave my aitches alone. They're all right. Ethel, (sighs) I wish they were! (pause) You've not forgotten we're going away to-day, mother? (sits on sofa b.) Mes. Boeeidge. To-day! 'Oo says so? Ethel. We were only invited for a week. Mes. Boeeidge. Were we, dearie? I don't re- member. Ethel. I do. There's a train at 12.15, if you'll ask Mrs. Cassilis about the carriage. Mes. Boeeidge. But I've not let Jane know. She won't be expecting us. Ethel. We can telegraph. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 91 Mrs. Borridge. Can't we stay another day or two? I'm sure Mrs. Cassilis won't mind. And I'm very comfortable here. Ethel. Ifo, mother. Mrs. Borridge. Why not? Ethel, (exasperated) In the first place be- cause we haven't been asked. In the second, be- cause I don't want to. Mrs. Borridge. Don't want to? Ethel, [snappishly) No. I'm sick and tired of this place. Mrs. Boreidgb. Are you, dearie? I thought we were gettin' on first rate. Ethel. Did you. (rises, goes l. e.) Anyhow we're going, thank goodness, and that's enough. Don't forget to speak to Mrs. Cassilis. I'll go up- stairs and pack, (as she is going l. Mrs. Cas- silis enters c. and meets her. She stops. Mrs. Cassilis kisses her affectionately) Mrs. Cassilis. Going out, Ethel dear? Good- morning, (greets Mrs. Borridge.) Ethel. Good morning. Mrs. Cassilis. (putting her arm in Ethel's and leading her across stage) Isn't it a lovely day. I woke at five. I believe it was the birds singing under my window. Ethel. Did you, Mrs. Cassilis? (enter Lady March MONT l.) Lady Marchmont. Good morning, Adelaide. (kisses her) Late again, I'm afraid, (shakes hands with Ethel.) Mrs. Cassilis. (sweetly) Another of your headaches, dear? I'm so sorry. 92 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Lady Marchmont. Good morniiigj Mrs. Bor- ridge. I hope you slept well. Mrs. Borridge. Sound as a bell. But then I was always a one-ner to sleep. My old man, when 'e was alive, used to say 'e never knew anyone sleep like me. And snore! Why 'e declared it kep' 'im awake 'alf the night. But / never noticed. Lady Marchmont. {sweetly) That must have been a great consolation for Mr. Borridge. Mrs. Borridge. Your 'usband snore? Lady Marchmont. {laughing) No. Mrs. Borridge. Thinks it's low per'aps? They used to say snorin' comes from sleepin' with your mouth open, but I don't know. What do you think? Lady Marchmont. I really don't know, dear Mrs. Borridge. I must think it over. (Lady Marchmont takes chair hy Mrs Borridge. They converse in dunib show. Ethel and Mrs. Cas- siLis come down stage.) Mrs. Cassilis. What a pretty blouse you've got on to-day, dear. Ethel. Is it, Mrs. Cassilis? Mrs. Cassilis. Sweetly pretty. It goes so well with your eyes. You've lovely eyes, you know. Ethel. Do you think so? Mrs. Cassilis. Of course. So does Geoff. Ethel. {disengaging herself) Oh, Geoff — Well I must go upstairs, {to Mrs. Borridge in passing) Don't forget. Mummy, {exit Ethel) Mrs. Borridge. What dearie? Oh yes. Ethel says we must be packin' our traps, Mrs. Cassilis. ing? THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 93 Mrs. Cassilis. (going down l. startled) Pack- (Lady Marchmont goes up c.) Mrs. Borridge. Yes. She says we mustn't out- stay our welcome. She's proud is my girlie. Mrs. Cassilis. {crosses r.) But you're not thinking of leaving us? Oh you mustn't do that. Geoff would be so disappointed. And so should I. Mrs. Bo&rioge. I don't want to go, I'm sure. Only Ethel said ■ Mrs. Cassilis. There must be some mistake. You mustn't go yet, must they, Margaret? Mrs. Borridge. Ethel said we were only asked for a week. Mrs. Cassilis. (sits in armchair r. c.) But that was before I really knew you, wasn't it. It's quite different now. Mrs. Borridge. If you feel that, Mrs. Cassilis. . . . (Lady Marchmont sitting on sofa c.) Mrs. Cassilis. Of course I feel it. I count on you for quite a long visit. Mrs. Borridge. There! I told Ethel how it was. Mrs. Cassilis. Ethel doesn't want to go does she? Mrs. Borridge. Oh no. She'd be delighted to stop on. Only she thought Mrs. Cassilis. Very well then. That's settled. You'll stay with us till Geoff and I go to Scotland That won't be till the middle of August. You promise? Mrs. Borridge. Thank you Mrs. Cassilis. I 94 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. call that real hospitable, {rising) And now I'll run upstairs and tell my girl or she'll be packing my black satin before I've time to stop her. She's so 'asty. And I always say nothing spoils things like packing, especially satins. They do crush so. {exit L. As soon as door closes Mrs. Cassilis heaves sigh of intense relief, showing how alarmed she had ieen lest the Borridges should really take their departure. Pause) Lady March mont. {who has watched this scene with considerable appreciation of its humour) How you fool that old woman ! Mrs. Cassilis. So do you, dear, {rises, goes tip c.) Lady Marchmont. Yes. You'll make me as great a hypocrite as yourself before you've done. When you first began I was shocked at you. But now I feel a dreadful spirit of emulation stealing over me.- Mrs. Cassilis. There's always a satisfaction in doing a thing well isn't there? Lady Marchmont. You must feel it then. Mrs. Cassilis. Thanks. Lady Marchmont. Do you really want these dreadful people to stay all that time? Mrs. Cassilis. Certainly. And to come back, if necessary, in October. Lady Marchmont. Good Heavens! Why? Mrs. Cassilis. {sits up r. c.) My dear Mar- garet as long as that woman and her daughter are here we may get GeoflErey out of their clutches. I thought we should manage it last night. Last night was a terrible disillusionment THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 95 for him poor boy. But I was wrong. It was too soon. Lady Maechmont. By the way what did that amusing wretch Major Warrington advise? Mrs. Cassilis. I didn't consult him. I'd no opportunity. Besides I couldn't have trusted him. He might have gone over to the enemy. Lady Maechmont. Yes. He was evidently at- tracted to the girl. Mks. Cassilis. I suppose so. Major Warring- ton isn't fastidious where women are concerned. Lady Maechmont. Still he knew of course. Mrs. Cassilis. Only what Lady Remenham would have told him. However his visit wasn^t altogether wasted, I think. Lady Maechmont. That song you mean. Mes. Cassilis. Yes. He gave poor Ethel a glimpse of the Paradise she is turning her back on forever, London, music-hall songs, racketty bach- elors, and that made her reckless. The contrast between Major Warrington and, say, our dear Hector can hardly fail to have gone home to her. {Enter l. quickly Ethel, flushed and cross.) Ethel, {'bursting out) Mrs. Cassilis — Mes. Cassilis. {very sweetly, rising and going to her l. c.) Ethel dear, what is this I hear? You're not going to run away from us? Ethel, {doggedly) Indeed we must, Mrs. Cassilis. You've had us for a week. We really mustn't stay any longer. Mes. Cassilis. But my dear it's delightful to have you. 96 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Mes. Bokridgb. {who has just entered breath- lessly at door l.) There you see, dearie! What did I tell you! Mrs. Cassilis. (c.) GeofiE would be terribly distressed if you went away. He'd think I hadn't made you comfortable. He'd scold me dreadfully. Ethel, (l. c.) I don't think Geoff will care. (Lady Marghmont rises and watches this scene from window c.) Mrs. Cassilis. {great solicitude) My dear you've not bad any little difference with Geoff? Any quarrel? Ethel. No. Mes. Cassilis. I was so afraid. Ethel. Still we oughtn't to plant ourselves on you in this way. Mrs. Borridge. Plant ourselves! Keally dearie, how can you say such things ! Plant our- selves.' {sitting down l.) Ethel. Oh do be quiet mother, {stamps her foot. Crosses e.) Mrs. Cassilis. Anyhow you can't possibly go to-day. The carriage has gone to Branscombe and the other horse has cast a shoe. And to-mor- row there's a dinner party at Milveyton. You'll stay for thaf! Ethel. You're very kind, Mrs. Cassilis, but .... Mrs. Cassilis. That's right my dear. You'll stay. And next week we'll have some young peo- ple over to meet you and you shall dance all the evening. Mrs. Borridge. There, Ethel! THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 97 (Lady Marchmont crosses to sofa up l. c.) Ethel, {hopeless) Very well. If you really wish it. Mrs. Cassilis. That's right. I'm so glad. 1 sha'n't.be able to part with you for a long time yet. (kisses Her tenderly) (Ethel sits hopelessly on chair and does not re- spond.) Lady Marchmont. (under her hreath) Really Adelaide ! Mrs. Cassilis. (sweetly) Into the garden did you say Margaret? (taking her out c.) Very well. The sun is tempting isn't it? (exeunt c.) (Pause. Ethel shows mute exasperation.) Ethel. Well mother, you've done it ! Mrs. Borridge. Done what, dearie? Ethel, (impatiently) Oh you know. Mrs. Borridge. (sits l.) Do you mean about staying on here? But what could I do? Mrs. Cassilis wouldn't let us go. You saw that your- self. Ethel. You might have stood out. Mrs. Borridge. I did, dearie. I stood out as long as ever I could. But sh6 wouldn't hear of our goin'. Ethel, (rises, crosses e. c.) Well mother don't say I didn't Warn you, that's all. Mrs. Borridge. Warn me, dearie? Ethel. That I was tired of this place. Sick and tired of it. That it was time we were mov ing. 98 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Mrs. Boeridge. Is that all. I'll remember. (pause) How far did you get with the packing? Ethel. I don't know. Mrs. Boeeidge. You hadn't packed my black satin ? Ethel. I don't know. Yes I think so. I'm not sure. Don't worry, mother, (sits on sofa r.) Mrs. Borridge. It'll be simply covered with creases. I know it will. Kun up at once, there's a good girl, and shake it out. Ethel. Oh bother! Mrs. Boeridge. Then I must. How tiresome girls are! Always in the tantrums! (exit l. grumiling) (Ethel^ left alone, sits scowling furiously at the carpet and Mting her nails. There is a consid- erable pause during which her rage and weari- ness are silently expressed. Then enter l. very fresh and gay Geoffrey and Mabel in riding things.) Geoffrey. Hullo Ethel ! There you are, are you? Ethel, (sulkily) You can see me, I suppose. Mabel. We didn't get our ride after all. Ethel. Didn't you? (turns away) Mabel. No. Basil has strained one of his sinews poor darling. He'll have to lie up for a day or two. (Sits at tahle l. c.) Geoffrey. Isn't it hard luck? It would have been such a glorious day for a ride. We were go- THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 99 ing round by Long Winton and up to Tenterden's farm and Ethel, {snaps.) You needn't trouble to tell me. I don't want to hear, {pause, goes up c.) Mabel. I think I'll go up and change my habit, Geoff. (Geoffrey nods, exit Mabel l.) Geoffrey, {going straight up to Ethel and putting hand on her shoulder) What is it, Ethel? Is anything the matter? Ethel. {shaking him off fiercely) Please don't touch me. Geoffrey. Something has happened. What is it? Ethel. {savagely) Nothing's happened. Nothing ever does happen here. Geoffrey, {he puts hand on hers. She pulls it pettishly away. He slightly shrugs his should- ers, a long pause. He turns, crosses, goes to- wards door L.) Ethel. Geoff. Geoffrey. Yes. {stops c.) Ethel. I want to break off our engagement. Geoffrey, {not taking her seriously) My dear girl! Ethel. I think it would be better. Better for both of us. Geoffrey, {still rallying her) Might one asb why? Ethel. For many reasons, {rises) Oh don't let us go into all that. Just say you release me and there's an end. {coming c.) Geoffrey, {more serious) My dear Ethel what is the matter? Aren't you well? 100 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Ethel, (impatiently) I'm perfectly well. Geoffrey. I don't think you are. You look quite flushed. I wish you'd take more exercise. You'd be ever so much better. Ethel. Greofifrey you're simply maddening. Do please understand that I know when I'm well and when I'm ill. There's nothing whatever the matter with me. I believe you think everything in life would go right if ohly everyone took a cold bath every morning and spend the test of the day shooting partridges. Geopfeet. Well there's a lot in that, isn't there? Ethel, Rubbish. Geoffrey, (struck ty brilliant idea) It's not that silly business about the riding again is it? Ethel. Oh no ! no ! Please believe that I'm not a child, and that I know what I'm saying. I want to ireak off our engagement. I don't think we're suited to each other, Geoffrey, (piqued) This is tather sudden, isn't it? (goes l. a little) Ethel. How do you know it's sudden ? Geoffrey. Isn't it? Ethel. No. It's not. Geoffrey, (struck ly a thought) Ethel, has my mother ? Ethel. Your mother has nothing whatever to do with it. Geoffrey. She hasn't said anything? Ethel. Your mother has been everything that's kind and good. In fact if it hadn't been for her I think I should have broken it ofif before. THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 101 But I didn't want to hurt her. (Geoffkey rises and paces the room up and down to l. c, for a moment in thought. Then turns to her again) Geoffrey. Ethel you mustn't come to a decis- ion like this hastily. You must take time to con- sider. Ethel. Thank you. My mind is quite made up. (sits) Geoffrey. Still you might think it over for a day or two, a week perhaps. It (hesitates) . . . it wouldn't be fair of me to take you at your word in this way. Ethel. Why not? Geoffrey. You might regret it afterwards. Ethel, {with a short laugh) You're very modest ! Geoffrey, (nettled) Oh I'lh not vain enough to imagine you would find anything to regret in me. I'va a common-place fellow enough. But there are other things which a girl has to consider in marriage aren't there? Position, money. If you broke off our engagement now mightn't you regret these later on, however little yon regret me? Ethel, (touched) Geoff, dear, I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't mean to. You're a good fel- low. Par too good for me. And I know you mean it kindly when you ask me to tate time and all that. But my mind's quite made up. Don't let's say any more about it. Geoffrey, (slowly and a little sadly) You don't love me any more then? Ethel. No. I don't love you any more. Per- 102 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. haps I never did love you really Geofif. I don't know. Geoffrey. I loved you, Ethel. Ethel. I wonder. Geoffrey. You know I did. Ethel. You thought you did. But that's not always the same thing is it? Many a girl takes a man's fancy for a moment. Yet people say one only loves once, don't they, {pause) Geoffrey, {sits r. c. in armchair) Ethel. I don't know how to say it. You'll laugh at me again. But — you're sure you're not doing this on my account? Ethel. On your account? Geoffrey. Yes. To spare me. Because you think I ought to marry in my own class as Lady Eemenham would say? Ethel. No. Geoffrey. Quite sure? Ethel, {nods) Quite. {Going up to window c.) Geoffrey, {frankly puzzled) Then I can't understand it ! Ethel, {impatiently) My dear Geoff is it impossible for you to understand that I don't want to marry you. That if I married you I should be bored to death. That I loathe the life down here among your highly respectable friends. That if I had to live here with you I should yawn myself into my grave in six months, {rises) Geoffrey, {astonished) Don't you like Deyn- ham? l-HE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 103 Ethel. No. I detest it. {goes to him up c.) Oh it's pretty enough I suppose and the fields are very green and the view from Milverton Hill is much admired. And you live all alone in a great park and you've horses and dogs and a butler and two footmen. But that's not enough for me. I want life, people, lots of people. If I lived down here I should go blue -mouldy in three weeks. I'm town-bred, a true cockney. I want streets and shops and gas lamps. I don't want your carriages and pair. Give me a penny omnibus. Geoffrey. Ethel! {sits on settee) Ethel. Now you're shocked. It is vulgar isn't it. But I'm vulgar. And I'm not ashamed of it. Now you know, {another pause. Geoffrey in pained ' surprise ponders deeply. At last he speaks) Geoffrey. It's all over then? Ethel, {goes to sofa r. c, leans against hack of it and faces audience. Flippantly.) All over and done with. I surrender my claim to every- thing, the half of your worldly goods, of your mother's worldly goods, of your house, your park, your men servants and maid servants, your aris- tocratic relations. Don't let's forget your aristo- cratic relations. I surrender them all. There's my hand on it. {stretches it out) Geoffrey. {pained) Don't, Ethel. {rises, turns to small table l. c.) Ethel, {surprised) My dear Geoflf, you don't mean to say you're sorry. You ought to be fling- ing your cap in the air at regaining your liberty. Why I believe there are tears in your eyes! 104 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Actually tears! Let me look {turns his face to her) Geoffrey, (pulling it away and going l. c, she goes to him) Yoii don't suppose a fellow likes being thrown over like this do you. Ethel. Vanity, my dear Geoff! mere vanity. Geoffrey. It's not! {Pause.) Ethel, {suddenly serious) Geoff, do you wawi our engagement to go on ? Do you want to marry me still? {he turns to her) Do you love me still? {holds up hand) No Geoflf. Think before you speak. On your honour! (Geoffrey is silent) There you see! Come dear, cheer up. It's best as it is. Give me a kiss. The last one. {she goes to Geoffrey and holds up her fac6 to he kissed. He kissed her on the forehead) Ethel. And now I'll run upstairs and tell mother, {laughs) Poor mother! Won't she make a shine! {exit l.) (Geoffrey left alone fidgets about, picks up pa- per, puts it down, takes out cigarette case, is about to light cigarette, strikes match. Enter Mrs. Cassilis followed a moment later Vy Lady Marchmont c. Be blows it out.) Mrs. Cassilis. All alone, Geoffrey? {at win- dow) Geoffrey. Yes mother, {crosses e. to fire- place) Mrs. Cassilis. {coming c.) Where's Ethel? {enter Lady Marchmont c.) Geoffrey. Mother — Ethel's . . . {sees THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 105 Lady Maechmont, Pause) Good morning, Aunt Margaret. Lady Maechmont. Good-morning, (l. c. at sofa) Mes. Cassilis. (c) Well, dear? Geoffeey. Mother a terrible thing has hap- pened. Ethel was here a moment ago and she has broken off our engagement. Lady Maechmont. Broken it off! Mes. Cassilis. {feigned distress) Broken it off dear? Surely not? Geoffeey. Yes. Mes. Cassilis. Oh, poor Geoffrey! {going to him E. c.) Did she say why? Geoffeey. Only that it had all been a mistake. She was tired of it all and didn't like the country and — that's all I think. Mrs. Cassilis. My poor boy. And I thought her so happy with us. You don't think we've been to tlame — 7've been to blame — -in the way do you? Perhaps we ought to have amused her more. Geoffeey. Not you, mother. You've always been sweet and good to her. Always. She said so. Mes. Cassilis. I'm glad of that dear, {goes up R. to window) {Enter l. Mrs. Boeridge furiously angry followed hy Ethel vainly trying to detain or silence her. Geoffeey retreats up stage where Mrs. Bor- eidge does not notice him.) Mrs. Boeridge. Where's Geoflf? Leave me alone, Ethel. Where's GeofiE? 106 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Ethel. He's not here mother. And Mrs. Cas- silis is. Do be quiet. Geoffrey, {coming hetween them) I'm here. What is it, Mrs. Borridge? (Lady March mont comes down l.) Mrs. Borridge. (r. c.) Oh Geoflfy what is this Ethel's been telling me? You haven't reely broke ofE your engagement, have you? (Mrs. Cassilis at fire r.) Ethel. Nonsense, mother. / broke it off as I told you. Mrs. Borridge. But you didn't mean it, deari*^. It was all a mistake. Just a little tiff. (Geoffrey joins Mrs. Cassilis at fire r.) Ethel. No ! Mrs. Borridge. Yes it is. It'll blow over. You wouldn't be so unkind to poor Geoffy. Ethel. Mother don't be a fool. It doesn't take anybody in. Come upstairs and let's get on with our packing. Mrs. Borridge. [stamps foot) Be quiet, Ethel when I tell you. (Ethel turns up to table l. c.) Lady Marchmont won't you speak to her. Un- dutiful girl. I should like to whip her! Lady Marchmont, (l) Ah well, dear Mrs. Borridge, perhaps young people know best about these things. Mrs. Borridge. (l. c. excited and angry) Know best! know best! How should they know best? They don't know anything. They're as ' THE CASSILIS ENGAGBMENT. 107 ignorant as they are uppish, {growing tearful) And to think 'ow I've worked for that girl ! 'Ow I've slaved for 'er, denied myself for 'er. (break' ing down) I did so want 'er to be respectable. I 'aven't always been respectable myself and I know the value of it. (crosses r. c. almost hyster- ical and hardly realising what she is saying) Ethel. Oh, hush, mother! Mrs. Boreidge. (c. angry again) I won't 'ush, so there! I'm your mother and I won't be trod on. / find someone to marry you — a better match than ever you'll find for yourself. Miss. And this is 'ow I'm treated ! (begins to cry) Ethel, (taking her arm) Mother, mother, .do come away. (Mrs. Cassilis comes down r. a little.) Mrs. Borridge. (breaking down altogether) And now to 'ave to begin all over again. And young men ain't so green as they used to be. Not by a long way. They're cunning most of them. They take a deal of catchin'. And I'm gettin' an old woman. Oh she might 'ave spared me this. Mrs. Cassilis. (soothingly) Mrs. Borridge, Mrs. Borridge. (Ethel goes to window.) Mrs. Borridge. (paying no attention, snuf- fling) But she's no natural affection. That's what it is. She doesn't love 'er mother. She's 'eadstrong and wilful and never paid the least at- tention to what I told 'er. (burst of tears) But I do think she might 'ave left 'im to break it off. 108 THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. Then there'd 'ave been a Breach of Promise and that's always something. That's what I always say to girls " Leave them to break it oflE, dearies and then there'll be a breach of promise and dam- ages." That's if you've got something on paper. But (fresh turst of tears) she never would get anything on paper. She never paid the least re- gard to her old mother. She's an undutiful girl and that's 'ow it is. (goes off into incoherent sobs) Butler. Lady Eemenham. Mks. Cassilis. (hastily rising) The drawing room, Watson, (crosses l. c. She is however too late to stop Watson from showing in Lady Eem- enham) Lady Eemenham. (sailing in) How do you do, Adelaide. How do you do, Margaret. I've just driven Algernon to the station and I thought I'd leave this for you as I passed, (gives book) Mrs. Borridge. She's an undutiful daughter. That's what she is. (snorting and sobbing) Lady Eemenham. (l. c.) Eh? Mrs. Cassilis. Mrs. Borridge is not quite her- self just now. Dear Ethel has decided that she does not wish to continue her engagement to my son and Mrs. Borridge has only just heard the news. Lady Eemenham. Not wish . . . . ! Mrs. Cassilis. No. This has naturally upset us all very much. It was so very sudden. Lady Eemenham. Well I must say {takes refuge in silence) Mrs. Borridge. (burst of grief) Oh why THE CASSILIS ENGAGEMENT. 109 didn't she get something on paper. (Ethel comes down to her r. c.) Letters is best. Men are that slippy. I always told her to get something on paper, {hreaks down completely) Ethel. Come away, mother, {takes her firmly ly the arm) Will you please order the carriage, Mrs. Cassilis? {leads Mrs. Borridge off l. so6- Mng and gulping) (Geoffrey goes to window.) Lady Eemenham. Geofifrey will you please tell the coachman to drive round to the stables?. I shall stay to luncheon ! (Lady Remenham sits l. c. facing audience, a smile of triumphant satisfaction irradiating her countenance. Geoffrey, who is standing 'by window c. and therefore behind her, luckily cannot see her face hut the audience can and it speaks volumes. Geoffrey goes out c. to tell coachman.) Curtain. ^T'SEND FOR A NEW DESCRIlF*TIVE CATAtoaUE. {^reach's Standard Drama Continued from 2d page of Cover,) TOL..XU., ^flSl The Pirftte'i Legacy - ■328 The CharcoaJ Burner 3S3 Adolgitbft 894 S«D<>r Varieate SUB Fdfceat R??e 336 Duke*B Daughter 8W Camilla'^silueband 8M Pure Gold vol: XLII. 339 Ticket of Leave Man ' 33d Tool'i RftrenKe \Sii O'Neii theGreat 33a Handy Aiidy .^33 Pirate of tlie tales 834 f auchon -3B5 LUtle Barefoot 836,Wr]d Irish Girl VOL. XLIIt. 837 Pearl of Sa»oy 888' Dead Heart '839 Ten Niehtt in a Bar-room 840 Dumb Boyof Mancliesler 341 BelphegortbeMounteb'k 84a Cricket on the-Hearth 843 Printer's Devil ' 844 >Ih'* Diversiou VOL. XLIV. '346 Priinkard'B Doom 34B Chimney Corner j)17 Fifteen V«ars gf it Drnnk- :I48. No Th'uroughlare pard's 349 Peop 0* Day L^ife a^Q Everybody's Friend :iai Uen. Qrant :iS2 Kathleen Mavonmeen VOL. XLV. SSSNlck.WhiffleB '■]a64'FriiU6,of the Wine Cup ;155 Drunkard's Warning we Temperance Doctor .W Aunt Dinah :i5S"Widaw Freeheart' 1 :i69 Frou Froii 360 Lone Strike , VOL. XLVl. :{ei Lancers 36-i Lui'ille ;i6aRandanV Thumb :i64 Wicked World ;{65Two Orphans 366 OoUeen Bawn Ml 'Twixl Aie and Crown ;J68 Lady Clancafthy: VOL. XLVIL 3t>9 Santtoea , 371) Never Too Liite to Mend 37! Lily of Ftance 312 Let! Astray 373 Henry V 374 Unequal Match J75 May or Dolly'sDcluiion 316.AlJatoona VOL. X'LVIIL 377 SnoCh Ard«n 378 Under tli^ Ga« Light ' 379 Daniel.Rochat 380 Gaate , ' ■ ,' Itsl School ^ ' UWSHomo ' '■■■,■. 383 D*vid "Glirrick 384 Ours' ■ ■ ' ■ - VOL. XLIX. 3d5 Socinl Glass ' .-,'•■ 3tJ6 Daniel Druce .587 Two Rosea ZSH Adrienne .189 The Bella a90 Uncle " . 391-Coui'tibip " 392 NofSuchftFool VOL. L. S93 Fine Feathers 394 I'rompter'B Box 3^ Iron ^laeter 39ft Engaged - '.^9.7 Bygmalioa A Ga)at«a 398 Ueah ;> 399' Sfirap of Paper 40U-Lostin London VO^. LI. 40t Octoroon ; 409 Goufederatf Spy \ 403 Mariner'i Retura > 404 Ruwicd by Drink ■ 405 Dreams ■ HOfiM. P. 407 .War 408 Birth ' , VOL. Lur. 40ft Nightingale 410 I'rtigresa- 411 Plav 412 MitlniEht Charpe 413 Confidential Clerk 414 Snowball 415 Our Regiment 4,16 Married ftlr Money Hainlet in Three Acta tiuuleib Gulpil . - FRENCH'S INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHTED EDITION OF THE WORKS OF THE BEST AUTHORS, !^ The following very successful plays have just fceenisstied at 25 cents per copy. A PAUL OF SP£CrPACLE3. Comedy In 5 Aata ,■ by SvDNiY Grundy, author of "Sbwiog th* Wind," Ac. 8 male, 3 female cbaracters.^ ' ' A FOOL'S PAKACISE. An original play In 3 Acts bv-SYDNtfY Grunhy, autbor o? "Sowing the Wjndj" Ac. 5 male, 4 female characters. THE SILVER SHIELD. An original conjedy in S Actf' by SvntJKv Gbundy, author .of "Sowing the . : yCind," Ac. 5 biale, 3 renxala otiaracters. , . iSfBE G-LA8B OPyASHIoW. An. oripnal oom- ' pdy in 4, Acta by Syonev Grundv, author of M Sowing tba Wind," &p. i male, 6 fei^ale characters. THE BALLOON.' Farclpal comedy lii 3 Acta by J. H. DaRM.ET and Mantille Fenk. 6 malej 4 femwio characters. , '"^ MI^B CLEOPATRA. ' Farce in 3 Acta by Arthce SHiRLey-, 7 male, 3 female characters. SIX FBRflON^. Comedy Act by I. Zanowtll. 1 male,, 1 female cbsracter. FASHIO^ABtB IKTJSLLXQ^EKOE. Cornedl- etta in 1 Act by, Pekcy Fenvall. 1 male, 1 femiUa .character. ' ' HIGHLAND LEt^ACY. Comedy In 1 Act by Brandon Thom*s, autbur of "Charley's Aunt." b male, 2 fauiale ch^irftcteiBk ' . ' ' Contents of Catalog;ue which is sent Free. Amatenr Drama , Amateui-OperaE ' Articles Needed by Ainateun Art of Scene Painting Baier'i Reading Chib Beards, Whiskers, Muatachas, etc. Bound SeU of PIm-b BalwerLytton'fi Plays Bnrleique Dramas Bnmt Cork - ■ Oab'man'g Story I CarWiVal of Authors Cliaritde Piavs Children's Plays '■ '' Comic Di'amas for Male Charactera ,onIy .Costiime Books Crape Hair Cumheriand Edition Darkey Dramas Dramas far Boys- , Drairihg-room Monologues Eloeatlpn, Recit«>s and Speaken EthiopJBD Dramas Evening's EnterUiinment Fairy and Home Plays French's Costumes French's Editions French's Italian Operas Frencb's Parlor Comedies French's Standard and Minor Dram^ French'? Standard and Minor Drama, ; bound " , - French's Scenes for Amatenrs ' Frobisher's l^opular RC;citals Gtand^ Army Dr»m'8s Guide Books for Amtitenrs , (5uide-to Selecting Piiya ■ Hints on Costumes Home Playa for Ladies Irish Plwa Irving's Plays Juvenile Plays Make^Up BbOk M»ke-Up Box ^ Mock Trial Mrs. Parley's Wai Work* New Pliiys New Recitation Books Nigcer Jokes and Stump Speeches Parlur Magic Parlor Pantou^im^s . Pieces of PleasantiY Po,e^G for Recitations Plays for Mal« Characters only R'put^d Gnmes- Scenery ' " ' - Scriptural and Historical Dramas Sensation Dramas - Serio-Comic Dramas Shadow Pantomimefi Shakespeare's Plays for Amateurs Strakespcare's Plays Stanley's Dwarfe Spirit Unm Tableaux Viyants Talma Actor-'s Art TemperanoB Plays Voc&L Music of Shakespeare's Plays Webster's Acfing^Edition Wiga, etc. ,, i m. (Frenches Minor Drama .Contimud from 4ih page of Cover.) VOL. XLT. Adventures of a Lore 1,ost Child [Letter Court' Cards i^ox and Box Forty Winks Wonderful Woman Curious Case Tweedleton's Tail Coat VOL. XLIL 329 Aa Like as Two Peas 330 Preaumptiva Evidence 331 Happy. Band- 332 Pinafore 333 Mock Trial 334>Iy Uncle's Will 335 Happy Pafr 336 My Turn Next VOL. XLUL , 337 Sunset 338For Haifa Million 339 Cubic Car :i40 Early Bird 341 Alumni Play 342 Show o£ Hands 343 Barbara 314 Who's Who VOL. XLTV. ■{45 Who's To Win Hint 346 WJiich is Which ■ 347 Cup of _Te» 34'^ Sarah's Young Man 349 Hearts 350 In Honor Bound [Law 351 Freezing a Mother-ia- 352 My Lord in Livery SAMUEL FRENCH, 26 West 22d St^, New York City. ^T-New and Explldt Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request. FRENCH'S MINOR DRAMA. Price 15 Cents cach.-^Bound Volumes $1.25. VOL. I. 1 The Irish Attorney 2 Boot, nttlie 3vf&n 3 How lo Pay th? Rent ' 4 The Loan of s Lov«r 5 The Dead iShot. . - 6 HIh Last Legs ITlic [iivisibit PrinM h ThetloMeu Furmer _ VOLi II. 9 Priiie of the Market 10 Used Up 11 The IriEh Tutor 12 The Barrack Room 13 Lake the Laiiorer 14 Beanty and the Beast' Ifl St. Patrick's Ev« 16 Captoin of the Watch VOL. IJL n The Secret iJD( 18 White Morse of tW Fe laThe Jicobite 20 The itotlle 21 Box, ami Cox 23 Bamboozling n Willow's Victim 24 Robert MHcaire VOL. IV. , ^5 Secret Service ■flBOmnlhus . 27 Iriih Lion 28M^dof Croissy ,8I The Old Onard 30 Raisihi^ the Wind aLSIash* and Craiher S3 N»val EngsRemeDts ) VOL. V. 33 Cocknies in California 34 Who Speaks First Sfi-BombasteK Furioso 36 Macbeth TraveStle 37 Irish' Acnbaaeador 38 Delicate Groiincl 39 The Weathercock [Gold 40 All that GJitteti Is Not VOL. VI, 41 drimshaw, Bagghavr and Bradshaw '43 Rongji Diamond 43 Bloomer Costnme 44 Two Bonnycastles 45 Born to Good Luck 45 Kies In, the park [jarer 47 "rwoot'd Puiile 1 Oon- 4SK^IlorCure, Vpt. VIL , 49 Box and Cox Married and SOSt. Cupid [Settled 61 Go-to-hed Tom, 62 ^he Lawyers , „ '58 Ja'ck'ShepiHird ,, 54Tli«Toodl«s; 1 66The Mobcap 66 Ladies Beware VOL. vriL B7 Morning Call 68 Popping the Questioi. 59 Deaf «6, a Post 60 New Pootman 61 PlewBiint Neighbor . 62 Paddy the Piper; fi3 Brian O'Llnn .Mlrisb As.^nrance VOL. IX. 65 Temptation 66 Pftdd V Carey 67 Two Gregorlea 68 King Charqilng ■ 69 P<'-cB-hon-taa 70 Ciockmaker'e Hat 71 Married. Rake 73 X^ve^and ML.rder VOL. X. ' 73 Ireland ano Amerioft ' 7^ Pretty Piece' of Businesg 75' Irish /Broom-'maker 7e To Paris hnd Back for iFive ^oriniia 77 That Blessed Baby '78 Our Qal »9 Swiss Cottage 80 Young Widow [ties VOL. XL , 81-0'l''l.'mniginandtheFai- 82 Irish Post ' [ries 83 My Neighbor's Wif** 84 Irish tiger 85 P. P., or Man and Tiger 86 To Oblige Benson 87 St^ite SeureU , 88 Irish Yi^nkee' VOL. XII. 89 A Good Felibw 90^Cb«i-rs aijd S'air StAr ftI?Ga!e Br^ezely - S9 Our Jeinimy 93 Miller'^ Maid 94 Awkward' Arrival 9^ Crossing tbe Line > 96 Conjugal Lesson VOL. XIIL 97 My Wife's Mirror . 98 Life^h New York 99 Middy Ashore lOOOrowii Prince 101 Two Qiie.-ns 102 Thumping Legacy 103 Undniabed '-"ntleinau 104 Honae Dog VOL. XIV. 106 The Demon Lover __ MatriQiOny 107 In and Oiitof Place '"° I Dlno wjth My Mother Hi-ii'Wo-'tba liaAndy Blakei 111 Love in '76 ' 119 Romance under Dil VOL. XV. , . 113 0neC(iat for i' Suits 114 A Decided Case 116 Daughter [norltV H6 No; or, the Gloriolia Mi- 117^oron«r'a Inquisition ^ 118 Love In Bumble Life llff Family Jars, 120 ferjpniition , , VOL. XVr. ' 121 Children in the Wood 192 Winning a Husband 123 Day After tlie Fair 124 Make Your Wills 125 Rendezvous 126 My Wife's Husband Ml Monsieur Tonson 128 illustrlons Stranger VOL. XVII. l29_Mischief-MakiDg[Mines 130 A Live Woman In thi 131. TKe Corsair l32Sh3rl9ok 133 Spoiled-oWndi 134-EVil Eye 186 Nflitliing to Nurse 136 Wahteda Widow VOL. XVIIL 137 Lottery Ticket 138 'F^HuTie'fl Frolic 139Iahe J.eakiUB! 140 Married Bachelor iAJ Husband at Sight 142 trishman in London 143 Anima! Magnetism 144 Highways and By-Ways VOL. XIX. 145 Columbus 146 Harlequin Bluebird 147' Ladies at Home 148 Phenomenon in a Smock Frock .49 Comedy find Tragedy IGO .Opposite '^'eighbors 151 Dutchman's Ghost 162 Persecuted natchman VOL. XX. 153Musard Ball' 154 Great Tragir Revival 165- High Low Jack & Game 1B6'A Gentleman from Ire- 157 Tom and Jerry , [land IfiS Viilai^e LaXryer ' , 159 Captal^Jflni^t A-miss 160 AmateiirB and Actors VOL. XXI, 161 Promptton [\(a,l 162 A ?«scinating Individ- 163 Mrs. Caudle 164 Shakenpearu's Dream ' l65,N*ntune'B t)ef^at, 166 Lady of Be'dohamher 167 Take Cars of LitSle 168 Irish Widow [Charley VOL. XXII. . . ^ lfl9 Yankee Peddler 17(1 Hiram Hireput 171 Double-Bedded Room" ,172 The D^-ama Defeodi^d. 173 Vermont 'WodL Deafer. - 174 Ebeilezer Vei^ure [tei 175 Principles frnn:! Charac- 176 Ladv of the Lake- (TravJ VOL. XXlll. 177 iMaii Dogs 178 B.irney llie Baron, 179 Swiss Swains Bachelor's Uedroom 181 A Roland .for an Oliver 182 Mor^ Blunders thftb Oni 183 Dumb Belle IM Limt-rick boy VOL. xXiv. 185 Nature and Philosophy l!i6 Teddy the Tiler 187 Spei'tre Bridegmom 188 Matteo Falcoue 189 3enny Lind 190 Two Buzzards ' 191 Happy M-an 192 Betsy 'Baker ' VOL. XXV. 193 lad. 1 R6und the' Comer 194 Teddy Roe ( \. , 195 Object of Interest ^ > 1 16 My Fellow Clerk 197' Bengal Tiger 1^8 Laughing Hvena 199 The Victor VanquUhed >00 Our Wife VOL. XXVI. SOI My Husband's Mirror ' 202 Yankee Land 20^ Norah Creina 204 Good for Nothing ■J05 The First Nigbt 206 The Eton Boy 207 Wandering MjuBlrel 208 Wanted, lono Millinen VOL. XXVII. 209 Poor Pilcoddy 210 The Muminy [Glasses 211 Don't For^^t your Opera 212 Love, in Livery 'J13 Anthony and Cleopatra 2l4trving It On 215StagflStrmk Yankee 216 Young Wife & Old Um- ibrella., VOL. xxvm. 217 CrinoiirM! 218 A Family Falling 219 Adopted r-hijd 220 Turned pleads 221 A Match in the Dark 222 Advice to Husbands 223 Siamese Twins 224 Sent to the Tower VOL. XXtX. '25 Somebody Else 2/6 Ladies' B'attle 257 M-'t of Acting 238 Thtf Lady of the Lions 229 The Rights of Man 230 My Husband's Ghyat 231 Two Can P^lay- at that Game 332 Fighting bv Proxy VOL, 'XXX. 233 Unprotected Fi-male 234 Pet of the Petticoah 236 Forty and Fifty [book 236 Who Strilc the PockeU 'J37 My Son Diana [slon 238 Unwarrantable Thtrn- Mr. and Mrs. White 240 A Quiet Family y6L. XXXI.' i,.' 241 Cpol a«y ppchmbec ■ ■ '-' ■242,S^dden TboUgKl* C 243JumboJmn' ■, , ' 244 A/BJightfldS^inr-' ' 245 Littte ToJdUifim ,. 24b A Lovi-r by P^oto' [ Pail 247 Miiid witl£'th«c Milking 949 Dr. Dilwirth 250 Outtto NuMe ; ,. 231 A Lweky'Hit :■ 352'Th« Dowager I , 2.«,Metain'ofa C'Fiiirlefcijiie) ^54 Dreams of DjiltiBitiii- •ifify Thd Shalt'er LwerS 2J6 Tiokllih Tintta VOL. xxxin. ■57 2p-Minutea-with a TJeert 25*i Mirftldfl^ or, the Jtutioe 'ofjtafcdn 259 A Soldl^'s CourUhIp .^arvjini* by Legi D^rt^ffjjt Ltive 262 Alanolng Sa«rrifica {Ffench^ s: Minor prama Continued on ^dpaee of Cover.) 253 Valet dfeShhni 264Njchd]^Mck!ehy , xojj. xxxiv: . The Lastofthe',l^ifrUiI( 666 King Rone's Dioghftr , ^6? The\Grotto NympH ■ 268 A Devilisli Good Joke 269 A TwicftToid Tilff «70Pa3doFMtitnAtiii*;'' i ■'71 Revolutionary Soldier , 272 A Man Without a Hiad ^ . : VOL. XXXV. '.' "^ 278 The Olio, Part 1 974 Toe Olio, t'art 2 276TheOflo, Parta [ter 276 T-he TrumpetKi-'iDaOeh- 277 Seeing Warrtfa-!^ ■ V78 Grxen Mountiia Boy 279 iW Nose -^.h.. ■ 2b0 Tom Noddy'j. Secret •' VOL.- XXXVL f' 281 Shocking Everitfl 282 A Regular Fix 283 Dick Turpin 284 Young Sc^mp 285 Young Actress 286 Call at Np. 1—7 2«7 One To\ic\i of Nktute ,% .1 2iJ8 Jv/o R'hoya ' "^ VOL. XXXVII. ' 289 Allthe World's a Sl^fr ■.?90 Quasb, or Nigger Prac- 291 Turn Him Out tticis 292 Pretty Girla of Stlllliitg 21)3 Angel of the Attic -" 294 CircnnlBtancesfl^Cuai 295 Kat^ CSheal '-'".. , 296 A Supper, in ©fele ^.v .' VOL. xxxvin. 297 Ici on Parle Frartballf" 298 Who Killed Cotk RoMft V^9 Declaration of Indepehd- 300 H«a or Tails [ence 301 Obsttnata. Family 302 My Aunt , . 303 That Rasoal Pirt :W4 Dop Padd^' fin kkboi • VOL. XiCXIX- El"» 3t*5 Too Mu'cji for flortd Jft- 306 Cure for the Fidgt^' ' 307 Jack's theLfld r^ 308 MuchA^pAboQtltrotblng 309 Artful VMegr 3)0 Winning Hazard; '' 311 Day's Fishing ' [*c, .312 Did von eyiT' send' your, VOL. XL. 313 Anrlrishman'sManeoTet 314 Cousin Fatinle 316 'Tia the Darkest Hour-be- . 31.6 Masquerade [fore Dawn 317 Crowding the Seaspn .318 Good nrieht'flrRBst 319 Man VtffitheCarpetBag Eton Tii»lhIii'''tllh1raH ' A- TerrHjle-Ttokar, ' t SAMUEL FRENCH, 36 West aad Street, New York City. New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request,. French's International Copyrighted (in England, her dolonies, and the United States) Edition of the Works of the Best Authors. No. 117 I <* THE CHARITY THAT I BEGAN AT HOME a Comeftg in jfour acts ' ST. JOHN H4NKIN ,AUT^OI?,Oy' "the two MR. WETHERBVS," "THE RETUSN OF THE PRODIGAL," ''THE CAbSIJ-IS KNCAGSJ^IENT," ETC. CopYi^iGHT, 1907, BY Samuel Frkitch CAUTION -.—Professionals and Amateurs are hereby notified that this play is fully copyrighted uhd,er the existing laws of the United States Government, and nohody is allowed to do this play without first having obtained written ' permission of Samuel French, 34 West aad St., New York City, U. S. A. PRICE 25 CENTS New York SAMUEL FRENCH PUBLISHER 24 WEST 23d STREET London ^ SAMtJEL FRENCH, Ltd, <» 26 Southampton St. !J STRAND * '^»#¥94ri»«^9¥$?9¥$^«ir«¥¥^ir'r¥^¥¥4^¥¥^¥¥'4^«¥¥91^ .'* FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. Price 15 Cento each;— Bound Volumes $1.25^ VOL. I. 1 Ion t Fulo i Thr Lady ci Lyoni 4 lU«ti«hau I Tb» Wlft I Tfat UoneynjooD 1 Th,« Schoul for ScandKl I Money VOL. n. t The Stnnnr 10 Grkndfftth^r WhUflbeuI 11 Richard.lir ' 19 LoTa'i Sacr!fl,ca . 13 The GKmeiter 14 A Cure for the Heart^hi Is'TheHiiDchbftck 16 Don C(Ki»r d« Buftii vot. HI. Vn The P«or Guitreaiftn 18 Hiuilet ' ll*Ch»rloiIl SO Veiiico Preierred f J Flmrro S9 The Love Chnie , M Othello , , 14 Leud. loe Five ShlJUngB VOL. IV. «Vtrgtniiu 34 K1d){ of the Coinmoni 97 Loudon Auufniltie. S8Th«R«iitD»y ,, 90 Twotientlenioti ofVcrona 80The Jeftlou* Wife 81 The Hlvftli 83 Perfection,. VOL. V. [Dehta AS A N'^fr W»y (o Pity Old 84 Mwk Before YoQ I.eKp 86 King JbtUi SB Neryoui Man'^ . 87 Duiioo Rdd Pytl^iu 88 Clftndeitftae MarriBg«> 89 WllUvn Tftll ' 40 D»y AfUr the Wedding VOL. VL 4t Speed the Ploueb 49 Komeo and Juliet 48 Feudal Tlmei 44 Charlei the Twelfth 4fi The Bride , < 4« The FQlliei .of 4 Nlah I . 47 IroD Cheit i' [Pair Lady 48FaiDt Hea^t Never Won VOL. VU. -' 49 Road tp Ruin iO^Macbeth 61 Temper 99 Evadne. . S3 ,Bertr«[n . 84 The Du'tfnia 65 Much' AQoAboDt Ifothlofc 96 The Critic VOL. VIIL 97 The ApoiUte (8 Twelfth Night 99 Hrutue 40 Simpum A. Co 61 Merchant of Venice 69 (^rdUeadiAYoungJiearti 93JliIouDtalii£eri- . [Hane 94 Three Week* afler Mar- VOL. IX. 9E Xjove 40 As You LtKe It 97 The Elder Brother 98 Werner 95 Glijppui , I 9 Town and Coaatry Tl KiDK Lear 19 Blue DeviU VOL. X. 78 Henry Vni 74 Married and Single 75 Henry IV ' 78 Paul Pry 77 Ony Uannerlng 78 SweethearU and VPlrei 79 Serloui Family 50 3he Stoop* to CoailDer VOL. XI. Al JuII^i Cieaflr 82 Vicar of Wakefield S:i Leap Year 84 The Catipaw B& The FiUi,inK Cloud 86 Drunkard " 87 Rob Roy 86 George fini^nwell VOL. XIL 89 Irgomar 90 Skeichei in India 91 Two Friends 9 June Shore ?3 Corslcan BroCheri -S4 Mind your own .Budneifr 95 Writing on the Wall 96 Heir at Law VOL. XIIL 97 Soldier'a Daughter 9-^ UouglflB 1 99 Marco Spftda. )(I0 Nnture's Nobleman 101 SardAimpalus 10'2 Civilization 103 The Robbers - 104 Katliarloe and Pe^ruchio VOL. XiV. 106 Game oCLove 106 Midsummer Nlght'i 107 Erneil.ine [Dream 108 Rag I'icker of Paris 109 Flying Diitchuinn ny Hypocrite V _ 111 Tl'ierese 113 Lal'onr de Neile VOL. XV. I13Ii«land As It Is 1 14 Sea of Ice 116 Seven Clerlta > . -- 'ilfi Game oY Life ^ in Forty Thieves 118 Brjian Boroihme 119 RomaiJceand Reality 150 Ugolino , VOL. XVL> I-**! Th* Trmpest l!i2 The Pilot - 133 Carpenter of Ronen 1 4 King's Rival i$S) Little Trttiiiure 126 pombev and Son I'i" ParentV and Guardians 116 Jewess VOL. XVII. , 199 Camllle lU6 Married Li/e, 131 Wenfo^k of Wenlock 133 Rose of Et'rickvale 133 David Copperfield 134 Aline, or the Ro»e qf 35 Pauline '^Killarney 136 Jane .Eyre VOL. XVTII. 137 Night and Mbruiog 138 ^thlop 1 '-9 Tbrt:e Guardsmen 140 Toni Cringle 141 Hanriette, the Forsaken 145 Euitache Baudin 143 EWiest MaUravara 144' Bold Dragoons VOL. XIX. , 146 Dred, or the pismal [Swamp 146 -Lilt Days of Pompeii UTEimeraldi ' USi'eterWilKlhB 1^9 Ben the Bottswala lEQ Joinathan Bradford 151 Retribution ' 169]Vllspr«& ' VOL. XX; 153 French Spy 154 Wept of Wiah-ton Wish 15g Evil Genius ilfifr Ben Bolt \bl Sailor of France 158 Red Mask 169 Life of an Actress ISO Wedding Bay , / VOL. XXL 161- All's Fainin Love leaHofer 163 Self 164'ChiaereIla 165 FfaAntom 166 Franklin [Moscow 167 The Gunmaker uf 168 The Love of a Prince VOL. XXU; 169 Son of the Nfght noRoryO'More ■ 171 Golden Blagle 172 Rienif ' 173 Broken Sword 174 Rip Van Winkle 175 lasbelle 176 Heart of Mid Lothian VOL. X,XIIL 177 Actress of Padua 178 Floating. Heacon 179 Bride 61 Laminermpor, iSli.Cataract of the Ganges 181 itobberoftheRhinB' 182 School 61 Re(orm 18H Wandering ^ys i ISA Mazeppa ' . VOL. XXI V. 18S Yoimp New Ifork iBfrThe Victims 187 Romance afLerMarrlure l«SBiig.ind 189 Poor of New Yort ' Idi) 'Ambrose Gwjnett 191 Raymond and Agues 199 Uamblafs Fate VOi- XXV. 193 Father and Son r 194 M'issan1eIlo^> 195iSixtebn String Jack 196 Ifoathiul Queen "97 Slieleton Witness 98 lyn It r^eKof Abbeville 99 Miller and hij) Men. . 200 Alaiidln VOL. XX VL 301 Adrieune tliu Actreu ■2l)J Undine ■J03 Jesse Brown 304 AsmodeuB , 305 Mormons iUS Blanche of Brandywlne 3(j7 Viola 308 Deaeret Desert<)d VOL. xxVn. 309 Abierlcnns in Parlf !iHi Victorine 2Tj Wizard of the- Wave •ai Casfle Spectre S13 Horse-ihoe Robinson , 91 1 ArmVid/ Mrs. Mnwatt 21 > FasbEon, Mrs. Mowatt 216 Glance at New York VOL. XXVIH. 317 Inconstant ^18 Uncle Tom'fcClibia Slit (xiiide to the Stage 330 Veteran 3^1 Milter of New Jersey 222 Dark Hour befot-e Dawn 223 Midsum'rNiglit's Dream [Lnura.Keene's Edition 924 Art and Artifice VOL. XXIX. 225 Poor Young Man. 226 Ossawattomie Brown 227 Pope of Rome 228 Oliver Twist 229 Pauvrette 330 Man in the Iron Mask 231 Knight ofArya 233 Moll Pitcher VOL, XXX. 233 Black Eyed Susan 'J;4 S~atan in Parts 235 Rosina Meadows [ess 336 West End, or Irish Helr- 337 Six Degrees of Crime The Lady and the Devil Avenger, or Moor o^Slc^ 240 Masks and Face* [ly (Frettib's Standard Drama Continued on 3d page of Caver.) VOL.,XXXL 241 Merry Wives of Windsor 94$ Mary^i Birthday fi4S Shaiidy Maguire «44'Wild Oata ■ S45 Michael &rle S4ti Idiot Witness 947 Willow Cops*. 348 People?* Lawyer VOL. XXXII. 249 The Boy Martyrs SI50 Lucretia Borgia ' 251 Surgeon of Riris S69 Patrician's Daughter 363 Sb6emaker of Toulnusa ' 254 Moihentous Quettfen " 366 Love and JLoyalty 256 Robber's Wifd VOL' XXXHI. 267 Dumb Girl of G«noa 2 $ Wreck Aflfanre 259 CIwi 260 'Rural Felletty ,- i 261, Wallace- *- ' • 262 Madelaine •i The Fireman 264 Grist to the Mill VOL. XXXIV. •265 Two Loves and a Lift ■266 Annie Blake 267 Steward 268 Captain Kyd ' ■ ' ( 269 Ni.k of tlie Woods 370 Marble Heart 271 Second Love li72 Dream at Sea VuL. XXX v. 273 B,re«ch of Promise ■ ' 274 Review 275 1,ndy of theLake- 216 StMl Water Ruus Deep 277 The Scholar 27B Helping Hands 279 Faust and Marguerite 2«0 Last Mho VOL. XXXVL 281 Belle'f Stratagem 282 Old and Young 283Rafrne|la 284 Ruth Oakley 286 British Slf i-e 296'A Life's Hansom 287 Giral)^ 28.. Ttine Tries All ' VOLL XXXVIL 26d H O I THE CHARITY THAT EEGAN AT HOME. ACT I. Scene. — The drawing-room at Priors AsMon, a handsome room in the Adam style. Double doors L. lead to hall. Similar doors r. lead to Lady Denison's oivn sitting-room. French windows l. c. and e. c. on to terrace of which the low hrick boundary. tcall ornamented at in- tervals by stone balls on squat brick piers is seen through open windoius. Beyond vieio of garden and hills in distance. The fireplace is c. ietioeen French windows but there is no fire as the month is September. Writing table in cor- ner L. c. Book on it. French windoiv l. c. is open, that r. c. closed during this and the nc.rt act. There is a sofa up stage, c. between the windows sufficently far from the fireplace to leave room to pass behind it. Arm chair n. c, Note. The Stage Directions throughout this play are given from the standpoint of the audience, R. meaning the Audience's Right, L. the Audience's Left. 5 6 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. tea table near it. Small chair ty table. An- other table E. with two wicker baskets on it con- taining crochet wool, etc. Two chairs l. c. Electric hell r. . of fireplace. Electric light switch by door l. to light stage, another by door R. to light Lady Denison's room off. (When the Curtain rises the stage is empty. Then enter l. c. from terrace through open French window Lady Dbnison, a kindly com- fortable lady of about forty-eight followed by her daughter Margery, a very pretty girl of twenty-two. Lady Denison. I don't think I'll go out again, Margery. The sun is rather hot and it tires my eyes. You go if you like. Margery. I'd rather stay with you, mother. The others will get on quite well without me for a little. Where will you sit? Lady Denison. Here I think.^ {sits in arm- chair R. c. by table) I do hope they're enjoying themselves. Do you think they are? Margery, {nods) I think so. Lady Denison. That's right. I wonder where I put my work? Margery. Here it is. Shall I bring it? (brings two wicker baskets from table r.) Lady Denison. Thank you, dear. I knew I'd left it somewhere. 'I wish this strip was finished. I'm getting so tired of it. {gets out long strip of bright red woollen crochet) Margery. Poor mother! It'll soon be done now. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 7 (Maegeey sits L. c. and gets out work.) Lady Denison. (beginning to crochet) How are yours getting on? Margery, {who has also begun on bright blue strip) Nearly finished. This is my last. Lady Denison. (sighs) I've still two more to do. Margery. I'll do one of them for you, mother. Lady Denison. No, dear. I shall manage. But next time I shall give blankets. Margery. But that wouldn't be the same as making something, would it? Lady Denison. That's why I should prefer it. Margery. Lazy ! Lady Denison. I'm so glad Mr. Hylton is coming down. He'll help us to entertain all these people. Margery. Yes. Isn't it lucky he and Miss Triggs and Aunt Emily could all come by the same train! The carriage will only have to go to the station once. Lady Denison. I do hope Miss Triggs will like being here. Margery. I think she will. Poor thing her lodgings looked dreadfully poor and uncomfort- able when I went to see her. Here at least she'll have proper meals and feel she's among friends. Lady Denison. Where have you put her? Margery. In the little room next mine. It's rather small but the house is so full just now. I wanted to put her next Aunt Emily. But Aunt Emily always insists on having that room for her maid. 8 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Lady Dbnison. How long do you think she'll stay? Margery. Two or three weeks I hope. Long, snough to give her a thorough rest and change. (Enter William l.) William. Can I speak to you, my lady? Lady Denison. Certainly. What is it, Wil- liam? (puts down crochet) William, (hesitating) If you please, my lady. ... I should like to give notice. Margery. Give notice, William^? William. Yes, miss. Lady Denison. Why now, William? William. I'm very sorry, my lady, to have to give notice at all. . . . after being with your ladyship so many years. . . . Lady Denison. Yes, yes. But why give notice now? The proper time to give notjce. is surely ten o'clock in the morning when I am seeing the housekeeper ? William. Very good, my lady, (going) Margery. Stop, William. Why do you want to give notice? You've always been a good serv- ant. Have you found another situation? William. No, miss. And I don't want to give notice. I hope you won't think that, Miss. Lady Denison. Then why do it, William? William, (hesitating) Well, my lady. It's on account of Soames. (hesitates again) Margery. Soames? William. Yes, miss. As long as Wilkins was here things were better. Not but what we had our THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 9 quarrels in the servants' hall even then. On ac- count of Thomas you remember, miss? Margery. I remember. William. But with Soames it's different, miss. Soames and I. . . . Lady Denison. Have you spoken to the House- keeper ? William. Yes, my lady. But Mrs. Meredith says she can do nothing, Soames is that violent and his language quite awful when spoken to. So she said I had better come to you, my lady. Lady Denison. How very annoying of Mrs. Meredith. Margery. Has Soames been using bad lan- guage to you, William? William. Yes, miss. Not that I mind that. But there's other things. . . . and in fact him and me don't hit it off. So perhaps I'd better leave at the month, my lady. Margery. Nonsense, William. Why you've been with us ever since you were a boy. William. Yes, miss. And never thought to leave her ladyship so long as she was satisfied. Margery. Very well. Mother is perfectly satisfied and you must stay. And you must try and be patient with Soames. He has rather a bad temper with other servants, I know, but I'm sure he tries to conquer it. And you must help him. will you? William, {doubtfully) Very well, miss. Margery. That's right. And then you'll see things will go better. Things always go better if only one tries to help people, don't they? 10 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. William. Yes, miss. Lady Denison. And I'll speak to Soames to- morrow morning. William. Thank yon, my lady. Thank you, miss, (going) Lady Denison. And will you please send Anson to me, William? William. Yes, my lady. (Exit L.) Lady Denison. (resuming crochet with a sigh) How troublesome servants are! I did think after Thomas went we should have no more quarrelling. And now it's Soames. Margery. Well of course we didn't engage Thomas because he was a good servant did we? And it's the same with Soames. Lady Denison. I suppose so. But it certainly makes helping people more difiScult if they won't exercise a little self-control. Margery. If they had more self-control they wouldn't need help, would they, mother dear? Lady Denison. I wonder if it would be a good thing to ask Mr. Hylton to speak to Soames? Margery. Oh yes, I'm sure it would. Mr. Hyl- ton has such a wonderful influence with people. Lady Denison. Very well. I'll ask him this evening if I remember. (Enter Anson l., a smart maid, dressed in hlack, pretty hut looking rather ill and rather fright- ened.) Anson. You sent for me, my lady? THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 11 Lady Denison. Yes, Anson. I want you to look at the mantle I wore this morning. The trimming has come unstitched. Anson. Is that all, my lady? Lady Denison. Yes. I meant to tell you about it before luncheon. I thought I would speak about it now while I remember. Anson. Very good, my lady, (going) Margery. Is anything the matter, Anson? You don't look well. Anson. Nothing thank you, miss. Margery. Would you like to see the doctor? We can easily send for him. Anson, (alarmed) Oh no, miss. Margery. You're quite sure ? Anson. Quite, thank you, miss. I'd much rather not have the doctor. (Exit L.) Margery. I'm afraid something must be the matter with Anson. She's looked wretched lately and she used to be so bright. Lady Denison.. I daresay she's only bilious. (Enter l c. from terrace Mrs. Horrocks followed Ity Verreker. Mrs. Horrocks is a thickset, red-faced pompous iroman of no ireeding, Ver- reker is a handsome rather devil-may-care young man of nine and twenty.) Margery. Are you coming in, Mr. Verreker. Verreker. Yes. It's cooler here than on the terrace. Lady Denison. Margery give Mrs. Horrocks a cushion. 12 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. (Margery makes Mrs. Horeocks comfortable on sofa c.) I hope you've had a pleasant afternoon ? Mrs. Horrocks. Quite, thank you. Vereeker. {sitting iy Maegeey) Mrs. Hor- rocks has had no end of a good time. She's been telling me the entire history of the Horrocks family from its remotest past. It appears the first of the Horrockses was a historian in the reign of Theodoric. His name was Orosius. Orosius-Horrocks, you perceive. Transliteration by Grimm's Law. Lady Denison. How very interesting. "\''eeeekee. It was. Margery. Have you left General Bonsor in the garden? Vereekee. No. He's just coming. He wants his tea. He's enjoyed himself too by-the-way. He's been telling Mr. Pirket a story about India for the last two hours — Poor Firket! and it's going on still. Genbeal Bonsoe. (heard offc.). So I said to Fennesey — Fennesey was our senior major. . . . {Enter Geneeal Bonsoe and Firket l. c. in middle of this speech. General Bonsor is a iulky white-whiskered red-faced old gentle- man. Firket a pale anwmic little man in spectacles.) Thorough sportsman he was! Shoot a tiger as soon as look at him. Got killed afterwards out in the Sunderbunds. Tiger ate him. Very sad. However — I said to Fennesey — " Fennesey, my THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 13 boy, if you don't keep that dash'd Khansamah of yours in order," I said, "you'll poison the whole cantonment." Fennesey laughed at that like any- thing. You should have seen how he did laugh ! (General Bonsoe laughs immoderately.) (Mrs. Horrocks rises impatiently, gets hook from table in corner l. c, returns to sofa and pre- tends to be immersed in it.) So when the judge and I and Travers were dining with him a week or two later {turning sliarply on FiRKET, whose attention is clearly wandering) I told you about Travers, didn't I ? Me. Firket. (pulling himself together with an effort) Eh? No, I think not. General Bonsor. Ah, I must. Or you won't understand the story. Travers was in the Guides. He married — let me see whom did he marry? I shall remember in a moment, {pauses, cudgelling his brain) Lady Denison. Won't you sit down Mr. Firket? You look quite tired. Mr. Firicet. {faintly) Thank you. {sinlts on to sofa L. c.) General Bonsor. Blake. . . . Blake. . . . Blakesley. That was the name! She was a daughter of old Tom Blakesley of the Police. But I never knew him. He was on the Bombay side. Travers died afterwards of enteric at Bundlekhund, I think, or was it Chittagong? Yes it was Chittagong, I remember, because I had a touch of fever there myself a year or two later. Well to go back to Fennesey. . . . 14 THEJ CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Margery, {coming to the rescue) Can you spare Mr. Firket to me for a little, General? I want him to wind some wool for mother. General Bonsor. Eh? Oh certainly, cer- tainly, {goes up stage annoyed) (Mr. Firket rises with alacrity.) Margery. Do you mind, Mr. Firket? You did the last for her so well. Mr. Firket. Not at all, Miss Denison. On the contrary. Verrbker. {to Margaret sotto voce) I call that real tact ! (Mr. Firket is set to wind red wool.) Margaret. Hush ! Mrs. Horrocks. {to Lady Denison) What a lot of work you do Lady Denison. Lady Denison. Yes, this is a crochet counter- pane for old Mrs. Buckley. It's very ugly, isn't it? {holds it up disparagingly) Margery and I each have to do eight strips. Then we fasten them together, like this, {puts red and Mue strip side Jjy side) Mrs. Buckley's eighty-three next week and almost blind. That's why Margery chose such bright colours. So that she might be able to see them you know. Aren't they detest- aUe? Margery. There's my last finished, {holds up strip in triumph) Sure you wouldn't like me to do one of yours, mother? Lady Denison. No, thanks, dear. If I stopped doing this I should only have to begin on Mrs, Jackson's stocking. I'll do my share. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 15 Margery. All right. Then I can get on with something else, {gets handkerchief case out of iasket) Veerekbh. I say you're not going to begin another thing straight off? Margery. Not begin. This is half done. It's a handkerchief case. ViSrreker. Is it for yourself? Margery. No. It's for Mr. Hylton. Vbrrbker. The man who's coming down this afternoon? Margery. Yes. Those are his initials, {shows them) Veereker. B. H? Margery. Yes, his name's Basil. It's a pretty name isn't it? {goes on working) Vereeker. Why are you working him a hand- kerchief case? Maegbey. I thought he'd like one. Veereker. Well I'd like a handkerchief case. Why don't you work one for me ? Margery. Perhaps you don't deserve one. Veeeeker. I don't. But you said this morn- ing when one did things for people one oughtn't to think of what they deserve but what they want. Margery. And you said " What rot." Vberekee. Well I've changed my mind. I think you're quite right. And I want a handker- chief case. My initials are H. V. Maegery. Isn't that rather a sudden conver- sion? Vereeker. It's none the worse for that. Be- sides now I come to think of it I do deserve one. 16 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. I played billiards with old Firket this morning. To please you. Margery, {working steadily) To please him. Verrekee. It didn't. I made a hundred while he made eight. He simply hated it. Old Firket's a perfect ass at billiards — though he says he can get me thirty per cent off any kind of billiard table that's made. Margery. Still it was nice of you to play with him. Vereeker. It was. I sha'n't do it again. And I think I ought to have a handkerchief case for doing it at all. Margery. Very well. You shall have the next. Verrbker. Not the next. This one. Margery. No, no. This is Mr. Hylton's. It's the first time he's been to stay with us. He works very hard while he's in London and scarcely ever gives himself a holiday so I promised if he'd come and spend a fortnight with us this summer I'd work him something. This is it. (The General, after mooning restlessly a'bout up stage, has seated himself on sofa by Mrs. Hor- EOCKS, who makes room for him on her right with obvious unwillingness. She goes on read- ing her book ostentatiously.) General Bonsoe. [looking at watch testily) I thought you had tea at five, Lady Denison? Lady Denison. So we do. General. Is it five yet? General Bonsor. Twelve minutes past. Twelve and a half. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 17 Lady Denison. I'm so sorry. I suppose they're waiting for the others. My sister-in-law, Mrs. Eversleigh comes to-day. And Mr. Hylton and Miss Triggs. You've met my sister-in-law I think? General Bonsor. Yes. Met her in Madrid when Eversleigh was at the Embassy there. I was at Gibraltar. Lady Denison. He's at Vienna now. I wish he wasn't. It's such a long way ofif. We see simply nothing of them. General Bonsor. Not in London this Season? LaiIy Denison. No. And my brother can't get away even now. So Emily is coming by herself. I do hope she's not going to be late. General Bonsor. She is late. But everybody's late now-a-days. It's the fashion. And a doosid bad fashion too. When I was at Alleghur in '76— Lady Denison. I don't think it's her fault. Perhaps the train. . . . General Denison. Just so! Her train's late of course. That's the English Railway System all over. The trains run anyhow, simply anyhow. Why when / was at Alleghur. . . . Lady Denison. It may not be the train Gen- eral. Perhaps one of the horses. . . . However I really don't think we'll wait any longer. Will you ring, Mr. Verreker? (Verreker does so.) Mr. Firket. You ought to have a motor. Lady Denison. Much more reliable than horses. I can 18 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. get you twenty per ceilt off any pattern you like to choose if you think of it. Lady Denison. Thank you very much, Mr. Firket. But I'm old-fashioned. I think I shall stick to horses. Mr. Fieket. Well, if you should change your mind just apply to me. That's all. Lady Denison. I won't forget (Enter Soames l.) Bring tea, Soames. We won't wait for Mrs. Evers- leigh. Soames. Very good, my lady. {Ewit L.) General Bonsor. (clears his throat) As I was saying, when I was at Alleghur. . . . Mr. Firket. I might make it five and twenty per cent with some makers. . . . General Bonsor. (sternly) As I was saying . . . as 1 was saying ... (a hush falls) When I was at Alleghur in '76 . . . (annoyed) There now! I've forgotten what I was going to say! (Mrs. Horrocks closes her hoolc angrily with a snap. The General starts and glares at her.) But it'll come back to me. Ever at Alleghur, Verreker, when you were in India? (Verreker standing at window e. c. looking out, tack to audience.) Verreker. For a few months. Mrs. Horrocks. What was your regiment, Mr. Verreker? THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 19 Veereker. Beastly place I thought it. Mrs. Horrocks. What was your regiment, Mr. Verreker ? Verreker. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Horrocks. The Munsters. General Bonsor. (delighted) Then you knew Toby Xicholson! He commands the Mun- sters, doesn't he? Verreker. Yes. General Bonsor. Why I know Toby. First- rate chap! Knew him when he was a subaltern. I must write to the old beggar. Where are the Munsters now? Verreker. Shorncliflfe, I believe. {From this point onwards the sun tegins to set and the red glow gets gradually brighter till Margery remarks on it a few minutes later.) General Bonsor. Good! I'll write to-night by Jove. I'd like to hear from Toby again. I've not seen him since we were at Poonah together. That reminds me what I was going to tell you! When I was at Alleghur in '76 we had a train from Goomti that was timed to arrive at Alle- ghur at 6:38. Just in time to change before din- ner don't you know. Well that train was always late, always by Jove! So I said to Macpherson ... he was superintendent of the Alleghur- Goomti line. Good chap Mac. Very good judge of a horse. Died of cholera I remember in '81 — or was it '82 ? Anyhow I said to him " Mac, my boy, I'll race your dashed little train from the Boondi Bridge to the station — that's the last 20 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. three miles into Alleghur — with my pony and trap for a hundred rupees. {During this speech Soames and William have brought in tea. A certain hostility is just visi- Me between them but very discreetly shown. They put the tea on the table by Lady Denison and go out l. Margery goes to table and pours out.) Margery. Does everyone take cream? Mrs. Horrocks. Milk for me, please. And one lump of sugar. Verreker. Two lumps for me. General Bonsor. Well old Mac wasn't at all pleased at that. He was awfully proud of his little one horse line. It was opened in '72 I re- member. Pat Ellis was trafJflc manager. Ellis had been. . . . Margery. Will you give that to Mrs. Hor- rocks, Mr. Verreker, and this to mother. General Bonsor. Ellis had been. . . . Lady Denison. You'll find some tea cake un- der that cover, Mrs. Horrocks. General Bonsor. As I was saying. . . . Mrs. Horrocks. Thank you. General Bonsor. As I was saying . . . (glares, .silence falls) Ellis had been on the Ben- gal-Nagpore line before he came to Goomti. He was a son of old General Ellis who was killed in the first Sikh war. He married. . . . Verreker. Your tea, General. General Bonsor. (irritably) In a moment. In a moment — he married Nellie Tremayne, THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 21 daughter of Tremayne of the 63rd. Tremayne had four daughters I remember. . . . Lady Denison. (loud whisper) Will you cut that cake, Mr. Verreker, and see if anybody would like some? (Vereeker does so with elaborate precautions as to silence. General Bonsoe meantime going on with Ms story uninterruptedly in authori- tative voice.) General Bonsoe. Kitty the eldest married Molyneux, who was afterward commissioner at EanigunJ. One of his sons was gazetted the other day to the Shropshires. Another went into the navy. Maud, the second girl, married Monty Rob- ertson. He was a gunner. They lived in a little house outside Alleghur just where the road forks. One way leads to Balaghai, the other leads to . . . tut, tut, what's the name of that place the Alleghur road goes to, Verreker? Veerbker. {who is handing tea cake) I don't know. Alleghur I suppose. General BoNsoR. {annoyed) No! no! Kupri! that's the name. Kupri. There was one more daughter but I don't remember what became of her. No there were only three of them I recollect. It was Ainslie who had four daughters, the four Graces we used to call them — because there were four of them. Lady Denison. {still whispering) Some more tea, Mr. Firket? (Me. Firket murmurs "No" with infinite pre- caution and puts down cup.) 22 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. General Bonsoe. Ainslie was Superintendent of Police and afterwards went to Central India. But I was going to tell you about that race. Well I took the trap. . . . {Enter Soames l.) SoAMES. Mrs. Eversleigh, Miss Triggs, Mr. Hylton. {Enter l. Mrs. Eversleigh, Miss Triggs and Me. Hylton.) (Mrs. Eversleigh is a prosperous well-dressed rather hard looking woman of forty-five, Miss Triggs a lean angular lady of thirty-four with thin lips tightly compressed, clothed in meagre tight-fitting black garments. Hylton is a hand- some man of forty. A good face but not in the least ascetic or solemn. Clothes quite human and unclerical.) Lady Denison. {rising) Dear Emily, how are you. {kisses her) The General's story was so in- teresting I never heard the carriage. You know General Bonsor don't you? (General Bonsoe and Mrs. Eversleigh shake hands.) How do you do, Miss Triggs. How do you do, Mr. Hylton. (shakes hands with her and Hylton) Margery. How do you do, Aunt Emily {kiss) I hope you've not had a tiring journey Miss Triggs. {hand shake to her and Hylton) Lady Denison. I must introduce you all. Mrs. Horrocks this is my sister-in-law, Mrs. Eversleigh. {how) Miss Triggs, Mr. Hylton. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 23 General Bonsor, Mr. Firket, Mr. Verreker. {con- fused bowing from everybody) Margery. And now you'll all have some tea. Yon must be dying for it. Do you know you're dreadfully late? General Bonsor. I was just saying before you came in, Mrs. Eversleigh, the English railways are the most unpunctual in the world. Mrs. Eversleigh. (frigidly) Indeed? I be- lieve our train was before its time. But one of the horses got a stone in its shoe or something and Hollings took about half an hour getting it out. Me. Firket. What did I tell you, Lady Deni- son. You'd much better have a motor. Margery. Your tea, Aunt Emily, {takes it to her) Cream and sugar. Miss Triggs? Miss Triggs. No tea for me, thank you. I never drink tea unless it is quite fresh made. Margery. Then I'll order some fresh for you. Mr. Verreker will you ring? Miss Triggs. {acidly) Pray don't trouble. I can do quite well without any tea. Margery. It's no trouble. (Verreker rings.) Bread and butter, Aunt Emily, {hands to Mrs. Eversleigh) Lady Denison. You look dreadfully over- worked as usual, Mr. Hylton. You must have a complete rest while you're down here, {to Miss Triggs) Mr. Hylton works a great deal among the poor in London. 24 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Miss Triggs. Indeed, {to Hylton) Do you find that does any good? Hylton. {smiling) I hope so. , . . Miss Triggs. What kind of work do you do? Hylton. Oh preaching and writing and so on. Miss Triggs. Preaching? Are you a clergy- man? Margery. Mr. Hylton is the Founder of the Church of Humanity. Miss Triggs. Oh. Not a real clergyman. {Enter Soames l. with teapot on salver.) Margery. Some fresh tea, Soames. Soames. Yes, miss, {puts new pot in place of old which he removes) {Exit L.) Margery. Now you can have your tea. Miss Triggs. {gives cup to her and takes Mrs. Evers- leigh's) Mrs. Horrocks. Where is the Church of Hu- manity, Mr. Hylton? I don't think I've ever been in it. Hylton. {quite simply) The Church of Hu- manity is everywhere. Mrs. Horrocks. But the Church, the building? Hylton. We have no building so far. I preach in halls and diflferent places about London which we hire. Miss Triggs. I don't call that being every- where. I call that being nowhere. Hylton. {smiling) In one sense of course. Margery. Give that to Aunt Emily, Mr. Ver- reker. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 25 Mrs. Eversleigh. {to Vbrreker^ who irings her back her cup) Are you one of the Norfolk Verrekers? I met Sir Montague in London two seasons ago. Verreker. He's my uncle. Mrs. Eversleigh. I remember he was very full of some experiments he was making . . . with turnips. To combat agricultural depression I think. Yerrekbr. I daresay. Uncle Montague's al- ways muddling round with that kind of thing. Mrs. Eversleigh. It doesn't interest you ap- parently ? Verreker. Not in the least. But it amuses him. Mrs. Eversleigh. Is he working at it still? Verreker. Probably. I've not seen him for the last four years. Margery, (noticing red glow of sunset through window c.) What a lovely sunset! Come all of you. {goes to uindoic l. c.) We must go out and see it. Mrs. Horrocks, General, Aunt Emily. Come. Lady Denison. Margery! Emily hasn't fin- ished her tea yet. Nor has Miss Triggs. Miss Triggs. Thank you. I have quite done. (rises) Margery, {outside l. c.) Come to the end of the terrace. You can't see it properly from here. Be quick or it'll be gone. Come along. {All troop off L. c. save Lady Denison and Mrs. Eversleigh. They are seen to pass window R. c. before they disappear.) 26 THE CHAEITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Lady Dbnison. How did you leave Edward, Emily? Mrs. Everslbigh. Very well I think. He's had a lot of work to do lately, and that always seems to suit him. How have you been? Lady Dbnison. Quite well, thanks. Mrs. Eveesleigh. Who are all these dreadful people you've got down here? Lady Denison. Not dreadful, Emily. Mas. EvERSLEiGH. Aren't they? I can hardly imagine a more dreadful visitor than General Bonsor. He's the greatest bore in London. Ed- ward says he's nearly emptied three of the Serv- ice Clubs. I thought people had given up invit- ing him. Lady Dbnison. That's why we asked him. Mrs. Everslbigh. {puzzled) I beg your par- don? Lady Dbnison. That's why we asked him. You see he's getting an old man and it seemed so unkind that nobody would have him to their houses. Of course his stories are rather long but I suppose he can't make them any shorter. So Margery thought if we asked him down for ten days he might enjoy it. Mrs. Everslbigh. T think it very unlikely we shall enjoy it. {rises and puts down cup) Lady Denison. Would you mind ringing while you're up, Emily. Then Soames can take away. Mrs. Everslbigh. {does so) Who's that Miss Triggs ? THE CHARITY THAT BEGtAN AT HOME. 27 Lady Denison. She's a governess. She teaches German. Mrs. Eversleigh. Is she going to teach you? Lady Denison. (emphatically) Oh no, Em- ily. Margery did suggest it. But I refused. Miss Triggs is only here as a visitor. Mrs. Eversleigh. I see. Lady Denison. Margery met her at the Ham- monds. She taught Cecily for a few weeks— till they could get some one else. She's very poor I'm afraid and doesn't get many pupils. So Margery thought it would be kind to ask her to stay. (Enter Soames.) You can take away, Soames. And turn on the lights. Soames. Yes, my lady, (turns on electric lights and removes tea things) Mrs. Eversleigh. Are all your visitors in- vited on this penitential system? Lady Denison. Except you, Emily. Mrs. Eversleigh. Except me of course. That Mr. Firker for instance? Lady Denison. Firkei. He's something in the City. I'm not sure what. But nothing very pros- perous I'm afraid. He used to be a stockbroker but he failed. And now he sells things on com- mission. I believe that's what it's called. He's always wanting to sell me a new billiard table or a bicycle or a sewing machine. To-day it was a motor car. I shall have to buy something from him before he leaves, I know. 28 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Mes. Eversleigh. Where do you pick up these extraordinary people ? Lady Denison. Margery found Mr. Firket. On the Underground Railway. Mrs. Eversleigh. Where? Lady Denison. At South Kensington I think. But it may have been Sloane Square. It was in a first class carriage and Mr. Firket only had a third class ticket. An inspector came round and wanted to take him up. So Margery paid his fare and then of course they became friends. Mrs. Eversleigh. Naturally! Lady Denison. He's been with us nearly a week. He goes on Monday. Mrs. Eversleigh. I'm glad to hear it. Lady Denison. Mrs. Horrocks we met in a hotel at Mentone. The other people at the hotel would hardly speak to her. They were quite rude about it. Which seemed very unkind as she is only dull and rather vulgar. And she can't help that can she? So Margery said we must be nice to her, and later on when we were arranging whom to have down we thought she should be asked. Mrs. Eversleigh. Surely this is rather a new departure of yours, Muriel? You- were always perfectly ridiculous about what you call being kind to people. But it never used to be as bad as this. Lady Denison. It's Mr. Hylton's idea. He calls it beginning one's charity at home. He wants everyone to do it. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 29 Mrs. Eveesleigh. How curious. He looks sane enough. Lady Dbnison. Of course he's sane Emily. Mr. Hylton is a very clever man. He writes hooks. I know they must be very clever because I can so seldom understand them. But Margery does. Mrs. Everslbigh. But why does Mr. Hylton think you should fill your house with wild beasts in this way? Is it for the good of their souls, or of yours? Lad? Denison. Both, I think. It was in a sermon he preached — on the true hospitality and the false. It was a beautiful sermon. Mrs. Evbrsleigh. Which is this? Lady Denison. The true, of course. False hospitality is inviting people because you like them. True hospitality is inviting them because they'd like to be asked. Mrs. Everslbigh. Ah ! I wish you'd thought of mentioning in your letter that you were prac- tising true hospitality just now. Then I wouldn't have come. Lady Denison. Now you're being worldly, Emily. And when people are worldly it always makes me drop my stitches. Mrs. Everslbigh. Why was Mr. Verreker invited, by the way? I suppose there's something shady about him as he's here? Lady Denison. 'I don't think so. Margery met him at a dance at the Fitz Allen's. His par- ents are both dead and he's quarrelled with his uncle and altogether seems rather alone in the 30 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. world. So Margery thought he was quite a per- son to be asked. Mrs. Eversleigh. Why did he quarrel with his uncle? Lady Denison. About his leaving the army, I think. Mrs. Eversleigh. Why did he leave the army? Lady Denison. I don't know, Emily^ I never asked. (Mrs. Eversleigh shrugs impatiently.) That's all we've got at present. Mrs. Eversleigh. And quite enough too. I hope they're all properly grateful. Lady Denison. They don't know. Of course we shouldn't dream of telling them. It would spoil all their pleasure. They think they're asked here because we like them. If they didn't they wouldn't enjoy it half so much. People do so love to feel they're wanted. Mrs. Eversleigh. It must be an unusual sen- sation with the General ! (pause) How long has Mr. Hylton been preaching in this absurd way? Lady Denison. He has been working among the poor for years I believe. But it was only this season that people one knew began to go to him. Mrs. Eversleigh. Does he make converts? Lady Denison. I suppose so. His services were crowded. Mrs. Eversleigh. Indeed? I must remember to take Edward when we are next in London. Edward always enjoys a new religion. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. SI Lady Dbnison. Won't you talk to Mr. Hylton while he's down here ? Mrs. Eversleigh. I shall make a point of do- ing so. London is changing very much, Muriel. Twenty years ago every one in society went to Church^or at least pretended to do so. Now-a- days people seem to go anywhere! (Enter Margery l. o. followed iy Mrs. Horrocks and Miss Triggs. The sunset glow has faded from the sky.) Margery. It's been such a lovely sunset Aunt Emily. You were lazy not to come out. Mrs. Eversleigh. Your mother and I have been talking. Margery. Can Mrs. Horrocks write a letter in your room, Mother? The General's in the library with Mr. Pirket and that's rather dis- turbing. Lady Denison. Certainly. Will you turn on the lights, Margery? You'll find note paper and things on my table Mrs. Horrocks. (Margery turns on switch hy door r. and opens it.) Mrs. Horrocks. Thank you so much, Lady Denison. (Exit R.) Margery, {to Miss Triggs) l^ow T can show you your room, Miss Triggs, if you will come up- stairs. 32 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Lady Denison. I'm afraid we have had to give you a very small room, Miss Triggs. But the house is so full just now. Miss Triggs. {acidly) Pray don't apologise, Lady Denison. Of course I know persons who are compelled to support themselves by teaching can not expect to be treated with ceremony! Anything will do for me Lady Denison. I assure you Miss Triggs. Not at all. I quite understand. Lady Denison. But really, Miss Triggs Miss Triggs. Please do not trouble to say any more. It is quite unnecessary. Shall we go, Miss Denison? (sialics out l. followed ty Margery.) Mrs. Eversleigh. What an intolerable woman Lady Denison. I do think she might have let me explain. Mrs. Eversleigh. Explain! I should have packed her out of the house if I'd been in your place. Lady Denison. I don't think Mr. Hylton would approve of that? Mrs. Eversleigh. Then Mr. Hylton should do his own entertaining. Why doesn't he have Miss Triggs to stay with him? Lady Denison. Emily ! Mr. Hylton is a bache- lor. Mrs. Eversleigh. So, I suppose. People with absurd theories about life usually are bachelors. But I don't think Miss Triggs would have come to any harm. She's excessively plain. Lady Denison. Really Emily, what dreadful THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 33 things you say. I don't think living in Yienna can be at all good for you. Mrs. Eveesleigh. What I can't understand is why, if you must be kind to people — which seems to me quite unnecessary — you shouldn't choose agreeable people instead of disagreeable ones. Lady Denison. (worried) I'm afraid I can't make it any clearer. But Mr. Hylton will tell you. (Hylton passes window r. c.) Here he is. (Enter Hylton l. c.) Mr. Hylton will you kindly explain to Mrs. Ever- sleigh why I have to be kind to disagreeable people. I never can remember and Margery isn't here. Mrs. Eveesleigh. (with dangerous sweetness) My sister-in-law has been telling me about your peculiar doctrines, Mr. Hylton. Hylton. You see, Mrs. Eversleigh, agreeable people don't need friends to be kind to them. They have plenty already. Disagreeable people have not. Mrs. Eversleigh. (hrislcly) If people are dis- agreeable they don't deserve kindness. Hylton. It's not what people deserve but what they want that matters, don't you think? In fact often the less people deserve the more we ought to help them. They need it more. Mrs. Eversleigh. I'm afraid that's hardly a 34 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. view you can expect me to take seriously, Mr. Hylton. It's very modern and original but it's not serious. Hylton. (smiling) I should hardly have called it modern. Usen't we to be taught that it was our duty to love our enemies? Mrs. Eversleigh. Yes. But only on Sundays. And no one ever dream'd of doing it. So of course that didn't matter. You wsfnt Lady Den- ison to do it. Hylton. I certainly think the world would be a happier place and a better place if people helped each other because they needed help irre- spective of whether they deserved it or not. Mrs. Eversleigh. That is certainly a conven- ient doctrine for your friend Miss Triggs. Hylton. {smiling) What has my friend Miss Triggs been about? I never met her till this afternoon by the way. Mrs. Eversleigh. Still it's on your principles that she was invited. And her manners are in- sufferable. Hylton. A little brusque perhaps. But I daresay it's only shyness. She has never been here before, has she. Lady Denison? Lady Denison. No. Hylton. And lots of people are shy in a strange house, aren't they? Mrs. Eversleigh. Her shyness certainly takes a singularly unpleasant form. Hylton. Well we must just set to work to be kind to her and make her enjoy her visit ar 1 in a week or two she'll be a different woman. Il'-s THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 35 wonderful how a little kindness and good-will softens people. Will you try? Mrs. Evbesleigh. (laughing) No, no, Mr. Hylton, I'm not going to join the Church of Humanity, not even to change Miss Triggs. Though I'm sure any change would be for the bet- ter. Hylton. {quite good-tempered) We shall convert you yet, you'll see. {Enter Margery d.) Lady Denison. Is Miss Triggs better satisfied with her room now, Margery? Margery. Yes, I think so. I've put her into mine. Mrs. Eversleigh. What! Margery. That's why I've been so long. I had to empty some of the drawers for her and move the bed. Mrs. Eversleigh. Really Margery! Margery. What is it. Aunt Emily? Mrs. Eversleigh. To turn out of your own bedroom merely to please an ill-tempered German Governess. I've never heard of such a thing. Margery. Poor Miss Triggs. I suppose she has rather a curious temper. But I daresay she can't help it. Mrs. Eversleigh. Nonsense : She's a thor- oughly ill-conditioned person. Margery, {mildly) Well Aunt Emily there's no use being angry with her about it, is there? We must just be nice to her and try and make her stay pleasant and then I daresay she'll be bet- ter. 36 THE CHARITY THAT BB3GAN AT HOME. Mrs. Eversleigh. So Mr. Hylton was good enough to suggest. Margery. Then it's sure to be right. Mr. Hyl- ton always knows how to manage people. Hylton. (rising) After that handsome com- pliment I think I'd better go upstairs. I have a letter or two to write before post— if it's not gone, Lady Denison? Lady Denison. No. The box isn't cleared till- a quarter past seven. Where have you put Mr. Hylton, Margery? Margery. In the Blue room, mother. If you'll come, Mr. Hylton, I'll show you where it is. Hylton. Thank you. [Exeunt Margery and Hylton l. pause.) Mrs. Eversleigh. ( looking after them thought- fully) Margery seems to have a great admira- tion for your Mr. Hylton, Muriel. Lady Denison. Yes, she thinks a great deal of him. Mrs. Eversleigh. Um Is he staying here long? Lady Denison. For a fortnight, I hope. Mrs. Eversleigh. Is that wise? Lady Denison. What do you mean, Emily? Mrs. Eversleigh. It would be so tiresome if there were to be any foolish entanglement be- tween him and Margery. Girls are so romantic about clergymen. And Mr. Hylton is a sort of clergyman, isn't he? Couldn't you send Margery away somewhere while he's here? THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 37 Lady Denison. But I don't want to send Mar- gery away. How am I to entertain Miss Triggs and Mrs. Horroeks without Margery? Mrs. Eversleigh. Nonsense, Muriel. Do please understand that Margery's future is of more importance than entertaining Miss Triggs. If Mr. Hylton were in orders it would be differ- ent. Edward might get someone to give him a liv- ing — though livings aren't what they were of course. He might even become a bishop in time. Or at least a Dean. But as he's only some kind of dissenter there's no use thinking of that. And if he were to propose to Margery while he was down here it might give us a great deal of trouble. Lady Denison. But is Mr. Hylton going to propose to Margery? I've heard nothing about it. Mrs. Eversleigh. And won't — till it's too late. That kind of man has no proper feeling about these things. And of course he hasn't a sixpence. Lady Denison. Hasn't he, Emily? I thought he was quite well off. Mrs. Eversleigh. What! Lady Denison. I thought he had quite a large income. Only he gives it all away. At least that was what Lady Wrexham told me. His place is close to theirs in Shropshire. But it's let just now. Mrs. Eversleigh. My dear Muriel, why on earth didn't you say so before? Lady Denison. I didn't think you wanted to know about Mr. Hylton's income. Mrs. Eversleigh. Not want to know? Of S8 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. course I want to know. It makes all the diflEer- ence. If Mr. Hylton is a rich man and has a place in Shropshire it explains everything. Lady Denison. {puzzled) Explains what? Mes. Eversleigh. Your asking him here. And turning your house into a bear garden because he tells you to. Of course it flatters him. And it does no harm— for once. It's not as if you need know these people afterwards. Lady Denison. Emily! Mrs. Eversleigh. I wonder what his income really is. I must find out from Lady Wrexham. It'll be a great thing to have Margery properly settled. I was always afraid you might have some diflSculty in finding a really suitable husband for her. She's so very good. And men don't like that. It frightens them. {rises) Yes dear, you've done quite right. And I think you've been very clever about it. I didn't know you had it in you. CURTAIN. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 39 ACT II. Scene. — The same. Time. Morning a weelc later. Lady Denison discovered conning a German Grammar. Lady Denison. Der Bruder, Des Bruders, Dem Bruder, Den Bruder, Bruder. {looking up from took) Der Bruder, Des Bruder, Den Bruder. No, that's wrong, (consults hook again) Der Bruder, Des Bruders, Dem Bruder, Den Bruder, Bruder. What a language! (repeats once more with still greater stress on the " O ".) (Enter Mes. Eversleigh l. carrying half fin- ished letter.) Mrs. Eversleigh. Here you are, Muriel. I was just going to your room to find you. Lady Denison. Miss Triggs is in there writ- ing letters, (murmurs softly Der Bruder, etc.) Mrs. Eversleigh. Can you find a corner for me too? When General Bonsor and Mrs. Hor- rocks are in the library together I feel like Dan- iel in the Den of lions. It's impossible to write letters under those conditions Lady Denison. How tiresome. I hoped they would get on better after that scene in the draw- ing-room last night. 40 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Mrs. Evbesleigh. I'm sure I don't know why. If you ask impossible people to stay they may be civil to you but they're perfectly certain to quar- rel with each other. Mr. Hylton doesn't seem to have thought of that. Lady Denison. What are they quarrelling about now ? Was it about the Peerage again ? Mrs. Eveesleigh. Yes. Mrs. Horrocks, who really is the most vulgar person I have ever met, was explaining to Mr. Verreker that she could always tell whether a person was well-born or not the moment she set eyes on him. Good blood always told. Of course this was meant for the General whose father was a tailor in Kegent Street as everybody knows. The General took up the challenge at once and growled out that good birth was all rubbish and good blood came from eating good butcher's meat, not from being fifth cousin to a Baronet. The reference was to Sir James Horrocks who is Mrs. Horrocks's second cousin twice removed as she's never tired of telling us. At that Mrs. Horrocks flushed crim- son and said the General was no Gentleman. And then I came away. Lady Denison. Didn't Mr. Verreker manage to soothe them? Mrs. Eversleigh. He didn't try. He seemed rather to enjoy the carnage. Lady Denison. I wonder if I ought to go? It'll interrupt my German dreadfully. Mrs. Eversleigh. Your German? Lady Denison. Yes. I've had to learn Ger- man after all — to please Miss Triggs. She was THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 41 getting restless at having notliing to do and yes- terday she said she really must be thinking of getting back to her work. Which was absurd of course, as no one wants to learn German in Sept- ember. However Margery said we ought to find her a pupil, just to keep her amused. So she's to teach me. (sighs) Mrs. Everslbigh. Why doesn't Margery learn? Lady Denison. Margery knows German al- ready. Girls seem to know everything now-a- days. (murmurs) Der Bruder, Des Bruders, Dem Bruder [Enter Mrs. Horrocks furious, l.) Mrs. Horrocks. Lady Denison! I really must ask you to request General Bonsor to moderate his language. I have never been treated with such disrespect in any house before. Lady Denison. I'm so sorry, Mrs. Horrocks. What has the General been saying? Mrs. Horrocks. I couldn't possibly repeat it. But he has entirely forgotten the courtesy that is due to a lady, as I told him! Lady Denison. Was that wise? I should have thought it would only make the General worse. Mrs. Horrocks. It did. He became so violent that I felt obliged to leave the room at once. General Bonsor ought to understand that this is not a barrack yard. Lady Denison. You must make allowances, Mrs. Horrocks. The General's temper is violent at times, but I don't think he can help it. Mrs. Horrocks. He ought to help it. 42 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Lady Denison. Still, he's an old man. And he's been in India. And when people have done that we must make allowances for them — -on ac- count of the climate. I hear it's so trying. And we all have failings of some kind, haven't we? Mrs. Horrocks. (stiffly) I am not aware that / have failings. Lady Denison. Well. All the rest of us. Per- haps if you went back to him now you would find him a little cooler? Mrs. Hoerocks. 1 shall certainly not do any- thing so rash. If I go out on to the terrace do you think I shall be safe from his intrusion? Lady Denison. Perhaps that would be best. You'll find chairs out there. {Exit Mrs. Horeocks l. c.) I wonder how the General is now. Do you think I ought to send Margery to him? Mrs. Eversleigh. Certainly not. Leave him to Mr. Verreker. Lady Denison. (doubtfully) Mr. Verreker isn't always very successful with the General. He never seems to take him seriously. And the General hates that, (rising) But Margery can always manage him. Do you know where she is. Mrs. Eversleigh. With Mr. Hylton, let's hope. Do leave her in peace. Lady Denison. Very well, Emily. Der Bruder, Des Bruders, Dem Bruder, Den Bruder, O — (Enter Margery and Verreker l. c.) Margery, will you please go to the library and see THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 43 after the General? He's been quarrelling with Mrs. Horrocks. Veereker. The General's not in the library now. We passed him a moment ago crossing the lawn. Mrs. Eveesleigh. (severely) I thought you were with Mr. Hylton, ifargery. Margery. Mr. Hylton's correcting proofs. I've been to the kitchen garden, with Mr. Verre- ker, to order the vegetables for luncheon. Mrs. Eversleigh. (tartly) I hardly think Mr. Verreker cajQ have been of much assistance. Verreker. On the contrary, I was invaluable. I prevented Miss Denison from ordering peas and substituted beans. It's too late for peas. Be- sides I prefer beans. And I insisted on peaches. The gardener hesitated but I was firm. Lady Denison. Would you mind being quite quiet all of you for the next ten minutes? Or I shall never know this declension in time for Miss Triggs. Yoit might go back to the library, Emily, as the General has gone. Mrs. Eversleigh. (rising) Well, perhaps I shall be less disturbed there, (takes up unfin- ished letter) And you'd better go to the school- room and practise, Margery. You'll forget your music altogether if you aren't careful. Margery. Very well, Aunt Emily. (Mrs. Eversleigh emit l. Lady Denison seats herself up stage. Margery and Verreker come down.) Lady Denison. (murmurs) Die Schwester, 44 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Der Sch wester, Der Schwester, Die ScL wester, Schwester. (aloud) You won't mind my going on with my German, will you, Mr. Verreker? I really must get it done. Verreker. Not a bit. I like seeing other people work. Margery, {laughing) Then you can stay and 'ivatch mother while I go and practise. Verreker. I'll come and watch you. Margery. Oh no. I never allow anyone to be with me when I practise. On account of the wrong notes. Verreker. Well, don't practise then. Stay down here and talk. Margery. And waste half the morning! Cer- tainly not! Verreker. You needn't. You can work — at my handkerchief case. You're taking an awful time over it. Margery. What a shame! Why I only began it two days ago and it's half finished. Verreker. Is it? Let me see. Margery, {takes it out of 'basket) Look! Verreker. I say it is getting on. Margery, {sits iy small tahle dovm r.) Yes. There are the initials. H. V. Aren't they nice and sprawly? Verreker. I say it's really awfully nice of you to work it for me, Miss Denison. Margery, {'beginning to work on it) But I like working things for people. Verreker. Not for everybody though? Margery. Oh yes, if they want them, I'm THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 45 making a whole lot of things for the Willises' bazaar at Christmas. Vbbeeker. I hope you don't class me with a beastly bazaar. Margery. It'll be a very nice bazaar. It's to pay oflE the debt on the Parish room. {Pause. Verrekee looks at her wonderingly.) Veereker. Miss Denison, don't you ever do anything to please yourself? Margery. Of course I do. Lots of things. Vereeker. Do you? I wish I could catch you at i.t. Margery. What do you mean ? Verrekee. Why, you seem to me to spend your whole^ time looking after other people. All the morning you run round doing things for your mother. Maegeey. I'm not " running round " now, am I? Veeebkee. No. Because you're making me a handkerchief case. In the afternoon if I ask you to come for a walk you insist on taking Miss Triggs or that ridiculous old General because it "wouldn't be kind not to ask them." I think that's the phrase? In the evening you play bezique to amuse Mrs. Horrocks. Don't you oc- casionally do something to amuse yourself? Margery. I don't know. I've never thought about it. Verrekee. That's just it! You've never thought about it! Well I think it's not right. 46 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Nobody ought to be as unselfish as all that. It shows up the rest of us too much. Margery. How absurd you are. Vbrreker. I'm not absurd. Quite the con- trary. I like everyone to give his mind to getting a good time for himself in this wicked world. Then I know where I am. Of course I don't mind his doing someone else a good turn now and then. But he oughtn't to over-do it. You over- do it. Miss Triggs. {putting in, head R.) I'm ready for you now, Lady Denison. Lady Denison. Very well, {rising) I shall be in my room with Miss Triggs, Margery, if anyone wants me. Margery. All right, mother. Lady Denison. {repeating to herself) Der apfel, Des apfels, Dem apfel. Den apfel, apfel. {Exit R. Pause.) Margery. Mr. Verreker, why will you always pretend to be selfish and cynical ? I'm sure you're not really. Verreker. I don't know about cynical, but I'm unquestionably selfish. I have no illusions whatever about that. Margery. Then, why don't you try to improve? Verreker. I don't want to improve. I'm quite contented to be as I am. Margery. Nobody can be that. We all have ideals of some kind. Verreker. Only for other people. And they're usually great nonsense. If people would only THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 47 give up bothering about ideals and face facts what a much happier world this would be for all of us. Margery. But that would be dreadful. Think what the world would lose. Think of all the saints and the martyrs who laid down their lives for ideals. Verreker. And think what a lot of harm they did! Margery. Mr. Verreker, you can't mean that. You must feel sometimes how splendid it would be to do something heroic, to lay down your life for a great cause, to make the world better. Verreker. I don't want to make the world better. I think the world's all right as it is. Margery. But you can't alivays feel like that? There must be times when you feel that the world is full of suffering and injustice. That it's not all right but all wrong? Verreker. Oh yes. When I'm not well, you mean. Margery. No I don't. Seriously? Verreker. Well, sometimes perhaps — When I'm with you for instance — I have a dim feeling that if we all put our backs into it we might im- prove things. But I struggle against it. Margery. Why s'truggle against it — if you think it would make things better? Verreker. Because people who try to im- prove the world have a very uncomfortable time. Miss Denison. And I've a great dislike of being uncomfortable. Margery, Mr. Verreker ! 48 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Vereekee. Now you're shocked. But that's inevitable, I suppose. If one only knows enough about people one always does disapprove of them. {Enter Hylton l., Veereker looks far from pleased at the interruption.) Margery. Have you finished your proofs, Mr. Hylton? Hylton. For this morning. _ ""L- Margery. Then will you come here and bring Mr. Verreker to a better frame of mind. His opinions are simply dreadful — if they are his opinions. You must convert him. Veereker. (rising) No. If I'm to be con- verted — which I sincerely hope will not happen — I stipulate that it shall be by Miss Denison un- aided. Two to one isn't fair. I shall go — unless Hylton does, {takes out cigarette case) Margery. You're running away. Veereker. Yes — to smoke. {Exit L. c. Pause.) Margery, {putting down work, thoughtfully) What a curious man Mr. Verreker is. Hylton. Is he? Margery. Yes. He looks at things so strangely. I've never met anyone quite like him before. Hylton. In what way? Margery. In what he thinks about life — if he does think it. He says he's selfish and isn't at all ashamed of it. He says ideals do more harm than good and that he thinks the world would THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 49 get along much better if only people would leave it alone and not keep trying to improve it. Have you ever met anyone who thought like that? Hylton. Oh, yes. It's a phase many men pass through. Margery. But they do pass through it. They don't stay like that, I mean, do they ? Hylton. It depends. Some men seem as if they were born blind — like kittens. Soul-blind I mean. They have no perception at all of the spiritual side of things. Then one day something opens the eyes of their soul and for the first time they see. Margery. What kind of thing? Hylton. Who can say. There are many ways in which a man's soul may be awakened. A word may do it sometimes. A line in a poem, a sen- tence in a book. Or perhaps, someone comes into his life, someone who is kind to him or loves him and then the eyes of his soul are opened. Margery. How wonderful ! Hylton. Yes. But terrible too. For perhaps no one comes or the person who might have helped them is careless or indifferent and then they may remain blind always. Margery, (earnestly) But Mr. Verreker — anl people like him — only need someone to come and open their eyes? Hylton. Yes. Verreker's quite a good fellow I expect, underneath. He'll turn out all right if only he falls into good hands. Margery. But if he falls into bad hands? Hylton. Then he may never make anything 50 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. of his life. But it won't be because tliere was no good in him. Only because no one came to bring it out. Margery, (thoughtfully) I see. Hylton. It's astonishing what a lot of good there is in every man if only you look deep enough for it. Men seem selfish and heartless and in- different on the surface and all the while there's a soul in every one of them. I could give you hundreds of instances from my work among the very poor, cases of people who seemed hopelessly brutish and degraded doing kind things and gen- erous things that would seem incredible if they were not true. Margery, (enthusiastic) How splendid! But that was you, Mr. Hylton. You've such a won- derful influence with people. You must make Mr. Verreker see. Hylton. (lightly) He didn't seem very anx- ious to lisljen to me, Miss Denison. You must try what you can do. (Enter Anson l. She looks pale and her eyes are suspiciously red. She hesitates on seeing who is in the room.) Anson. I beg pardon, miss. I thought I might find her ladyship here. Margery. Mother is in her room, Anson. But I think she's busy just now. Can / do anything? Anson. No, thank you, miss. I wanted to speak to her ladyship, (going) Margery. You can see if she's engaged if you like. THE CflARlf Y tMAT BEGAN AT HOME. 51 Anson. Thank you, miss, (crosses to door e. and opens it) (Margery watches her anxiously.) Can I speak to you, my lady ? Lady Denison. (off) Yes. Come in Anson. What is it? (Exit Anson e., closing door.) Margery. Poor mother. I expect she was de- lighted to be interrupted. I know / always was when I was learning German. Hylton. Is that your mother's maid? She looks as if she were in trouble of some kind. Is anything the matter? Margery. I don't know. She's not looked her- self for some time. I asked her about it a week ago. I wanted her to see the Doctor. But she wouldn't. Hylton. Has she been with you long? Margery. Four years. I daresay it's nothing serious. Servants are so silly about what they eat. And then they wonder why they aren't well. Or she may have had some quarrel with one of the other servants. Do you find your servants quar- rel among themselves, Mr. Hylton? Hylton. No. — You see I only keep one. Margery. I sometimes wish we did. Only last week William actually gave mother notice just because he couldn't get on with one of the others. But mother told you about that, didn't she? Hylton. No. B2 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Margery. She meant to. I suppose she forgot. (Re-enter Anson r., crying Mtterly. She crosses stage rapidly and exit l. Margery and Hylton look after her in amazement. Then enter r. Lady Denison much flustrated.) Lady Denison. Margery, will you go and find Aunt Emily for me? She's in the library, I think. 1 want her advice about something. And don't come back, dear, for a little. Margery. Very well, mother. (Exit Margery l.) Hylton. (rising) Perhaps I'd better. . . .? Lady Denison. (fussily) No, no, please stay, Mr. Hylton. I shall want your advice, too. Hylton. Of course if I can be of any use . , . (re-seats himself. Lady Denison sits also. Pause) Lady Denison. (half irritably, half plaintive) Oh, why doesn't Emily come? She said she would be in the library. Surely Margery ought to have found her by this time. (Mrs. Eversleigh enters l.) Ah, here she is. Emily, a dreadful thing has hap- pened. I thought you would advise me. (hesi- tates) Mrs. Eversleigh. (testily) Well, Muriel. What is it? Lady Denison. Anson, my maid — you remem- ber Anson? She came to me from Lady Car- berry. Mrs. Eversleigh. Yes. Yes. I know. Well? THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 53 Lady Dbnison. I was in my room doing my German. Fortunately Miss Triggs had gone out into the garden for a few minutes while I was trying to learn the second declension. When Anson came in. She was evidently upset "about something and looked ready to cry. In fact she did cry. I asked her what was the matter and she said she wanted to give notice. I was very much astonished because Anson has been with me four years and has never given me notice before. So I asked her why. And then she said that she and Soames . . . well in fact that Soames had. . . . Mrs. Eveeslbigh. Muriel ! If you are about to say what I suppose you are about to say wouldn't it be better if Mr. Hylton ? (Hylton rises again.)' Lady Denison. No, Emily. I asked Mr. Hyl- ton particularly to remain. I shall want his ad- vice about this. I shall want everybody's advice. Besides it's partly his fault. For if it weren't for Mr. Hylton I should never have engaged Soames. Hylton. I didn't know. . . . Lady Denison. Oh yes. Soames had a very bad character from his last place. In fact no character at all — which is worse. He was with the Matthisons before he came to me and Lady Frances gave the most dreadful accounts of him when Margery was staying with her. She said the champagne had disappeared in the most re- markable manner. And as for his look no one 54 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. could make head or tail of it. I'm not sure there wasn't something about the plate too. Anyhow she sent him away — without a character as I said. And I always think that so hard for a servant. Don't you, Emily? Mrs. Eversleigh.. To have no character? Very. Lady Denison. Well, of course, he couldn't get another place. And Lady Frances got a letter from him while Margery was there saying he was almost destitute. So Margery thought he ought to be given another chance. Mr. Hylton is al- ways saying people ought to be given another chance. Aren't you, Mr. Hylton? And as Lady Frances didn't seem willing to have him back and Wilkins was leaving me just then — on account of Thomas — I engaged him. I wish I hadn't now. Mrs. Eversleigh. And now Soames has. . . .? Lady Denison. Yes. And I think it's~ most wicked of him. Anson has always been a good girl and her mother is a most respectful woman. However she is willing to forgive Anson and have her home I'm glad to say, so that will be all right. She has no father, luckily. Mrs. Eversleigh. Well, Muriel, this is what your new forms of philanthropy lead to. Lady Denison. It's very unfortunate. But it's done now. The question is what are you to do? Mrs. Eversleigh. Dof Dismiss Soames, of course. I'd better ring for him at once, (does so) I suppose we must let him give us Ms version of the affair before you discharge him. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 55 Lady Denison. I suppose so. But it's all very painful. (Pause.) Htlton. I'm extremely sorry, Lady Denison, if anything I have said has caused all this trouble, either to you or that poor girl. I never dreamed such a thing could occur. Mrs. Eveesleigh. Eeally? Then you must be singularly lacking in imagination, Mr. Hylton. It seems to me the logical outcome of your theories — when applied to domestic service. Hylton. (meelcly) Of course there's a dan- ger. But all reforms have an element of danger in them. Mrs. Eversleigh. (triumphantly) Then why reform ? Hylton. But without reform all progress would be impossible. The world would simply stagnate. We must risk something. Lady Denison. Well, I'd so much rather not have risked Anson. She was such an excellent maid. (Enter Soames l. Pause. Silence.) SoAMBS. Did you ring, my lady? Lady Denison. (flustered) Yes. What is this, Soames, that Anson tells me about you? Soames. What has she told you, my lady? Lady Denison. That while we were in London three months ago, within a month of your coming to me in fact, you. . . . And now she's expecting a baby in the Spring. 56 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. SoAMEs. That is so, my lady. Mrs. Eveesleigh. Well! Have you nothing else to say? SoAMES. No, madam. Except of course that I'm very sorry this should have occurred? Lady Denison. Is that all? SoAMES. I think that is all, my lady. Lady Denison. Of course you're prepared to make all the amends in your power to poor An- son? SoAMES. Of course, my lady. Lady Denison. Very well then. You must marry her. SoAMES. I'm afraid I can't do that, my lady. Mrs. Eveesleigh. There, Mr. Hylton ! Lady Denison. Nonsense, Soames. You will be acting very wickedly if you do anything else. Anson is a good girl. A very good girl. She is the best maid I ever had, and I'm very sorry to part with her. But you have brought this dis- grace on her, poor thing, and you must certainly marry her. Soames. I beg pardon, my lady. I should be perfectly willing to marry Anson. She seems a very respectable young woman as you say. Un- fortunately I am already married. Mes. Eveesleigh. What ! Soames. I have a wife already, madam — I am sorry to say. Lady Denison. Really this is most unlucky. Mr. Hylton can you suggest anything? Hylton. As things stand, I'm afraid there's nothing to suggest. We must do our best for this THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 57 poor girl, of course, and Soames must help us in any way he can. That's all that I can think of. Soames. Anything Lady Denison thinks right, Sir, I shall be happy to fall in with. Lady Denison. Very well. That will do, Soames. Soames. Thank you, my lady. {Exit L.) Lady Denison. Poor Anson. I am really dreadfully sorry about her. It's such a terrible thing to happen to a girl. Mrs. Eversleigh. (acidly) If any other of your converts are engaging their servants on phil- anthropic lines, Mr. Hylton, you had better cau- tion them to choose single men. Lady Denison. James, I'm glad to say, is un- married. Mrs. Eversleigh. James? Lady Denison. The boy who helps in the garden. But then he's only sixteen. Mrs. Eversleigh. Tck! — Of course Soames must be sent away. Lady Denison. (sighs) I suppose so. Mrs. Eversleigh. Even Mr. Hylton must see that. Hylton. (thoughtfully) I'm not sure. Mrs. Eversleigh. Not sure! After this dis- graceful affair! Hylton. I am thinking of the future, Mrs. Eversleigh, not of the past. I'm very sorry for what has happened to poor Anson, sorrier than I can say. But that can't be altered now. What 58 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. is past is past. The question is how are we to help Soames? Mrs. Eversleigh. (exasperated) But we don't want to help Soames. Soames has behaved abominably. HyltOn. (quietly) That's no reason for not helping him, is it? Mrs. Eversleigh. (gasps) It certainly seems so to me. Hylton. Surely not. Surely it's always our business to help anyone if we can, whatever he may have done. And in this case we can help Soames. If he's sent away now he may be abso- lutely ruined. You see it's the second place he's had to leave without a character. Mrs. Eversleigh. (acidly) Do I understand you to consider that in his favour, Mr. Hylton? Hylton. (mildly) No. But it gives him an added claim on our forbearance, doesn't it? — since it makes it more difficult for him to make a fresh start. Mrs. Eversleigh. Then the more a servant dis- graces himself the more we are bound to help him. And if he only does it often enough I suppose you'd pension him? Hylton. (gently) I would still try to help him, whatever he had done. Mrs. Eversleigh. Eubbish! Lady Denison. Hush, Emily ! Mrs. Eversleigh. I beg your pardon, Mr. Hyl- ton, but really this is quite preposterous. It's trying to regulate one's life by a theory instead of by the light of common sense. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 59 Lady Denison. It certainly is rather confus- ing, you must admit, Mr. Hylton. Hylton. (gently) I think my view is defensi- ble even from the commonsense standpoint^ though it's not a standpoint I set much store by. What I want — what we all want, don't we? — is to prevent Soames from slnliing into destitution and so perhaps into crime. Lady Denison. I don't want him to do that of course. Hylton. The only way to prevent it is to get him some employment. Unhappily he is probably unfitted for anything but domestic service. The only thing to do therefore is to find him a place and give him a chance of retrieving his character. I would willingly engage him myself if I could but my establishment has no place for a highly- trained butler — or indeed for a " man-servant at all. But if Lady Denison would keep him on. . . . Lady Denison. Oh no, I couldn't do that. Mrs. Eversleigh. I should think not indeed ! Hylton. (earnestly) It needn't be for long. Say a year. If at the end of that time his work and his conduct generally have been satisfactory Lady Denison can then send him away with a character and he'll be able to get another place. Lads- Denison. But I sha'n't want to send him away if his conduct is satisfactory. Hylton. Then why not try the experiment? Of course I'm now putting this on the lowest grounds, the commonsense grounds. Morally it needs no defence. One should always forgive wrong-doing, shouldn't one? 60 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Lady Denison. I can't think that, Mr. Hylton. Wicked people must be punished. If they weren't it would be so discouraging for good people. Hylton. Wicked people are only weak people, Lady Denison. If they were strong they would resist temptation. But they are weak and they yield to it. Mrs. Eversleigh. (icith decision) If Soames is unable to resist temptation of this kind, I think Muriel had certainly better discharge him, on account of the other maids. Hylton. I don't think he'll offend in this way again. He's had a lesson. Mrs. Eversleigh. He had a lesson at the Mat- tliisons'. Hylton. And profited by it. He has been quite honest since he came to you, hasn't he. Lady Denison? Lady Denison. I believe so. Hylton. Very well, then. The experiment an- swered in that case. Mrs. Eversleigh. Oh come, Mr. Hylton, we must be practical. Of course this idea about being kind to unpleasant people and worthless people and in fact to everybody one doesn't like and oughtn't to like, sounds very nice. But it's not practical. Hylton. Well, Lady Denison. It's for you to decide. Lady Denison. That's just it. I do so hate deciding things. If only I could ask Margery. Mrs. Eversleigh. Certainly not. Hylton, (earnestly) It may save a soul. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN' AT HOME. 61 Lady Denison. Do you really think that? (Hylton nods.) How very annoying! However if that's so, I sup- pose he must stay, (sighs) Mrs. Eversleigh. Muriel ! Lady Denison. Well Emily, what can I do? If Mr. Hylton thinks so. Hylton. I do think so. Thank you so much, Lady Denison. I'm sure you'll never regret it. Mrs. Eversleigh. I'm quite sure she will. And I think it's very wrong of you, Mr. Hylton, to make my sister-in-law behave in this way. She doesn't like it. Hylton. You exaggerate my influence, Mrs. Eversleigh. It is Lady Denison's own goodness of heart that makes her want to help people. Without that I should be powerless. Lady Denison. How nice of you to say that, Mr. Hylton ! But you always ^iay the right thing. I was really feeling dreadfully dispirited about all this and you've driven it all away. There's nothing like tact, is there? (Enter General Bonsor l. c.) Is that you, General? Have you been in the garden with Mrs. Horrocks? General Bonsor. (frowning sternly) I have not, Lady Denison. Lady Denison. Oh no, to be sure, I forgot. ... I mean I remember. . . . Just so. General Bonsor. (severely) 1 have been in the Eose-garden smoking a cigar. 62 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Lady Denison. That's so kind of you. It's so good for the roses. Gbnekal Bonsoe. Where Mrs. Horrocks is I have ao idea. {Exit L. head in air.) Lady Denison. Dear me, why did I say that! Of course I oughtn't even to have mentioned Mrs. Horrocks. But I'd forgotten all about their quar- rel this morning. This affair of Soames quite put it out of my head. And now I suppose the Gen- eral will be offended. Really what with quarrels among one's visitors and scandal in the Servants' Hall life is hardly worth living. Mrs. Eversleigh. (acidlj) Mr. Hylton's sys- tem! Hylton. (rising) Shall I go and pacify the General ? Lady Denison. If you would, Mr. Hylton. It really is scarcely safe to leave him alone just now, in case Mrs. Horrocks should come in. (Exit Hylton l.) It's been a very tiring morning, hasn't it, Emily. (Miss Triggs puts her head in e.) Miss Triggs. I've been waiting for you nearly twenty minutes. Lady Denison. Is that declen- sion ready now? Lady Denison, Oh dear, I'm afraid not. I've really had no time to attend to it since you left me. Miss Triggs. Miss Triggs. (sternly, coming c.) No time? THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 63 Lady Denison. No. I'm so sorry. I was called away on urgent business. Most urgent business. And it's no good trying to do anything before luncheon now, is it? It will be ready in two or three minutes. Miss Triggs. I am afraid it is useless for me to attempt to teach you German, Lady Denison, if you are unwilling to give even the small amount of time I ask to studying it. Lady Denison. (meekly) But really, Miss Triggs. . . . Miss Triggs. Apologies are unnecessary. I am accustomed to be treated in this way. It is the experience of all women, I believe, who earn their living by education, (crosses l.) Lady Denison. I assure you. . . . Miss Tkiggs. You need not. I quite under- stand. We will abandon our lesson until later in the day when you may have leisure to apply your- self to it. (sweeps out l.) Lady Denison. Now she's offended. Really it's too bad ! Mrs. Eversleigh. Mr. Hylton's system! Lady Denison. I'd no idea people who taught German were so sensitive. I ought never to have said I would learn it. Mrs. Eversleigh. You ought never to have asked Miss Ttiggs here at all. Nor any of these people. Mrs. Horrocks, General Bonsor, Mr. Ver- reker. They're all impossible. Lady Denison. I don't see what's the matter with Mr. Verreker. He's not been doing anything tiresome, has he? U THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. (Margery and Verrekee appear on terrace e. c. Then Maegery runs in excitedly iy window l. c, holding Veerekee hy hand.) Margery. Mother dear, is that you? {kisses her) I've got such a piece of news for you. What do you think? Hugh and I are engaged to be married ! Mrs. Eversleigh. Hugh? Margery, {turning to her) Mr. Verreker. {to her mother again, speaking very rapidly and excitedly) He asked me to marry him down by the lake and I said I would. Aren't you pleased! Lady Denison. Margery! Mrs. Eversleigh. Really! {Gong rings loudly off.) Margery. Oh, there's the luncheon gong and my hands are simply piggy. We've been grubbing up ferns for my rockery. So are yours, Hugh. Eun and wash them, dear. You must wait to be congratulated till afterwards. Verreker. All right. {Exit Veeeekee l., Margery going also.) Mrs. Eversleigh. I must say! Margery. I can't stop now. Aunt Emily, or we shall be late and then the General will be furious. {Exit L.) Mrs. Eversleigh. And you said Margery was going to marry Mr. Hylton ! Muriel, you must be a perfect fool. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 6S Lady Denison. (almost weeping) I didn't, Emily! You said it! Mrs. Eversleigh. Well, there's no use arguing about that now. You must put a stop to this engagement without a moment's delay. Lady Denison. Yes. I shall speak to Margery about it directly after luncheon. It's very naughty of her. I shall certainly refuse to sanction the engagement. Mrs. Eversleigh. Better speak to her at once. Lady Denison. I think I'll wait till after luncheon. Mrs. Eversleigh. Mr. Hylton again. If it weren't for him Mr. Verreker would never have been invited to stay. Lady Denison. {regretfully) Yes. I really must give up going to hear Mr. Hylton. The re- sults are too unpleasant. I didn't mind asking the wrong people to the house and trying to make them happy. But I can't have them proposing to my daughter. I must make a stand against it all, now, at once, while I remember, (goes to hell and rings majestically.) Mrs. Eversleigh. What are you going to do? Lady Denison. Dismiss Soames! CURTAIN. 6(5 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. ACT III. Scene the same. Time an hour later. Luncheon is just over. When the Curtain rises the stage is empty. Then enter l., Lady Denison, Mrs. EVEESLEIGH, MrS. HoRROCKS, MiSS TeIGGS, MAR- GERY, General Bonsor, Hylton, Verreker. (French wndows e. c.- and l. c. are 'both open in this act.) General Bonsor. (heard off and then enter- ing) ... It was at Jubbulpore it happened. We were up there after Pig. Travers was there, I remember, and Hindley of the 106th. No not Hindley. He died the year before. Bellairs. First-rate chap Bellairs. In the police. I'll tell you a story about him some day. He married Molly Henderson, daughter of old Henderson the judge. Fat Henderson we used to call him be- cause he was so stout. Well, as I was saying, Travers and I were alone together. . . . Verreker. (to Margery) Poor Travers! General Bonsor. (wheeling round) What, sir! Verebker. Nothing. General Bonsor. Did I hear you remark, Poor Travers? THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. C7 Verreker. I hope not, General. You were not intended to. General Bonsor. Did you remark it, sir? Lady Denison. I think you must have misun- derstood Mr. Verreker, General. Mrs. Horrocks. (acidly) And anyhow the subject is scarcely worth pursuing, is it? Unless we are to be kept listening to this story the whole afternoon. General Bonsoe. I had not intended to de- tain Mrs. Horrocks. (glares) Margery. Don't you think we'd better all go out for a walk while the sunshine lasts? It's a pity not to make the most of it. Lady Denison. Margery, I Margery. Yes, mother. In a moment. Mrs. Horrocks, you'll come, won't you? Mrs. Horrocks. Thank you. I shall be de- lighted. Margery. Miss Triggs? (Miss Triggs nods.) General ? General Bonsor. (decidedly) No, thank ye. (Enter William l.) Margery. Mr. Hylton? Hylton. I'm afraid I must stay at home and finish my proofs. Lady Denison. Margery, I want to speak to you before — What is it? (to William) William, (to Lady Denison, holding out sal- ver) The post, my lady. (Lady Denison takes 68 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. them) And could Mrs. Meredith speak to you for a moment? Lady Denison. Oh, very well. {Exit L.) Margery. That makes three. Who else? William, {to General Bonsoe) A letter for you, sir. (General Bonsor takes one.) General Bonsor. Thank ye. {Exit William l.) Excuse me. {opens and tegins to read) Margery. Will you come, Aunt Emily? Mrs. Everslbigh. No, thanks. I am going to drive with your mother. Margery. Very well. Hugh, four. That'll be all. Verreker. You don't ask whether I want to come. Margery. You've got to come whether you like it or not. As a penance. Verreker. All right. If it's clearly under- stood that it's a penance. I'd rather like a walk. Margery. Let's all go and get ready then. Come, Mrs. Horrocks. Meet in the hall in five minutes. {Exeunt l., Mrs. Horrocks, Miss Triggs, Mar- gery and Verreker, pause, Hylton has picked up a review and is glancing at one of the arti- cles idly. General Bonsor is reading Ms letter.) THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 69 Hylton. This article in the Fortnightly on Farm Colonies Is worth reading, Mrs. Eversleigh. Mrs. Eveesleigh. Thanii you. I've had quite enough philanthrophy lately without that! {an- other pause) (Mrs. Eversleigh takes up book and appears to read.) General Bonsor. (looking up from letter) Well ! ! ! Mrs. Eversleigh. (irritably) Really, Gen- eral Bonsor, these sudden exclamations are most disconcerting. Is anything the matter? General Bonsor. Mrs. Eversleigh is Lady Denison aware of the character of that young man? Mrs. Eversleigh. Of Mr. Hylton ? General Bonsor. Ko! No! Of that young man who has just left t"he room. What's his name? Verreker. Mrs. Eversleigh. I don't know. You'd better ask her. General Bonsor. I shall certainly do so. I venture to think she is not aware of it. I venture to think that when she has read what my old friend Nicholson, Toby Nicholson, says about him (taps letter fiercely) she will scarcely consider him a fit person to invite to meet me! Mrs. Eversleigh. I shouldn't build on that if I were you. My sister has peculiar views about hospitality. General Bonsor. Can you tell me where I shall find her? 70 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Mrs. Eversleigh. She'll be back in a moment. I believe she only went to speak to the house- keeper. Here she is. (Re-enter Lady Denison l.) General Bonsoe. (breaking out) Lady Deni- son. . . . Lady Denison. (to Mrs. Eversleigh, fussily) p]mily, the cook wants to leave now. She has found out about Anson and says she can't remain with me after the month. I told her Soames was leaving, but she said . . . I beg your pardon. General. I thought Emily was alone. Mrs. Eversleigh. General Bonsor has some news to communicate to you about Mr. Verreker. I needn't say of an unfavourable character. Lady Denison. Emily! (collapses) Hylton. (rising) Perhaps I'd better. . . . Mrs. Eversleigh. (acidly) On the contrary. Mr. Hylton had better remain. It's all his doing, as usual. Hylton. Mine ? Lady Denison.- Never mind that now, Emily. But General if you have anything unpleasant to say, will you say it as quickly as possible? Then we shall get it over. General Bonsor. I will do so, Lady Denison. (clears Ms throat) I have just received a letter from my friend Colonel Nicholson who com- mands the Munster Regiment. Nicholson is an old friend of mine. I met him first at Poonah in '72 . . . or was it '73. . . . THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 71 Mrs. Eversleigh. (acidly) Please do not bother about dates, General Bonsor. If you will kindly come to the point. General Bonsor. Certainly, Mrs. Eversleigh. I wrote to Colonel Nicholson a week ago. And as I happened to hear Verreker say he had been in the Munsters I mentioned that he was staying down here. The Munsters are the Old 43rd, you know. The Fighting Forty-Third. I remember them in the old days when Tom Ferguson was in command. Ferguson and I. . . . Lady Denison. (pathetically) General would you mind leaving that part out and telling us what Colonel Nicholson said about Mr. Verreker — if he said anything? It's really important. General Bonsor. (stiffly) I was about to do so — when you interrupted me, Lady Denison. I will do so now. Colonel Nicholson says . . . where the deuce does he say it? I'll give it you in his own words, (fumbles for glasses, Lady Denison wild with nervous impatience) " I'm surprised to hear you've got young Verreker stay- ing with you — (looks up at Lady Denison) he means with you, of course — I thought people fought rather shy of asking him. Small blame to 'em. He got into an ugly scrape while he was with us. Spent money belonging to the mess which he couldn't pay back. Might have gone to prison if the thing hadn't been hushed up. Had to send in his papers. Deuced ugly business alto- gether. Old Wakley whom you remember at Dum Dum. . . . That's all. Mrs. Eversleigh. There, Mr. Hylton! 72 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Hylton. (puzzled) What is it, Mrs. Evers- leigh? I'm really quite in the dark. Lady Denison. Hush, Emily. You forgot Mr. Hylton doesn't know yet. Nobody knows. Gen- eral, would you mind leaving us with Mr. Hylton for a few minutes. My sister-in-law and I would like to consult him. We are very much obliged to you for letting us hear the letter — and would you please go at once? General Bonsor. Certainly. (Exit L. c, much offended.) Lady Denison. Mr. Hylton, what is to be done ! You heard what General Bonsor said about Mr. Verreker just now? Mr. Verreker proposed to my daughter this morning and she accepted him. Hylton. Impossible ! Lady Denison. I wish it were. Margery came and told us about it just before luncheon. Ofl course I was most indignant and meant to tell her at once that I couldn't think of allowing it, but the luncheon gong rang and I've had no oppor- tunity of speaking to her since. And it's all your fault, Mr. Hylton, as Emily says, for if it hadn't been for you I should never have asked Mr. Verre- ker to the house. I really knew nothing about him and only did it out of kindness. And now the General tells us this ! Hylton. Lady Denison, I can't say how dis- tressed I am that this has occurred. I would have done anything to prevent it. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 73 Mes. Eveesleigh. (acidly) I'm glad to find there are limits even to your toleration, Mr. Hyl- ton. Hylton. Surely you never supposed I could approve of such a marriage? Mes. Eveesleigh. (sarcastically) I don't know. You champion Miss Triggs as a visitor — and Soames as a Butler. Why not Mr. Verreker as a son-in-law? Hylton. (distressed) You can't really think that, Mrs. Eversleigh. Knowing what I now know about Verreker how could I possibly think him a fit husband for a girl like Miss Denison ! Mes. Eveesleigh. Well, well, you don't think so. That's the main thing. The question is what is to be done? Lady Dbnison. Of course I shall forbid the engagement. I meant to do so before. But this puts it absolutely out of the question. Mes. Eveesleigh. And Mr. Hylton must use his influence with Margery. It's the least he can do. Hylton. Anything I can do, Mrs. Eversleigh, you may be quite sure will be done. Mes. Eveesleigh. And let's hope she'll prove, amenable for everybody's sake. Hyltojt. I've no fears on that score. When Miss Denison learns Verreker's true character she won't wish to marry him any longer. It would be impossible. Lady Denison. (eagerly) Yes. Wouldn't it! It's not as if Margery were an unprincipled girl or a J)ad girl in any way. She's a very good girl. 74 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. And a religious girl. And so she'll do what we tell her. Hylton. (who has heen pacing restlessly about and is now hy window r. c.) Here is Miss Deni- son coming across the lawn. With Verreker. Lady Dennison. With Mr. Verreker? How unfortunate ! Mrs. Eversleigh. I don't see that it matters. He would have to be told what we think about him in any case. Why not now? Lady Denison.. (flustered) Very well. You must help me, Mr. Hylton. I'm so unaccustomed to having to manage Margery. She generally manages me. (Enter Margery l. c, helping Verreker, who limps a little.) Margery. Is that you, mother? Poor Hugh has sprained his ankle, (to Verreker) Be care- ful of that step, (to Lady Denison) Isn't it un- fortunate? He slipped as we were going down the bank in the old Spinney. I sent the others on and brought him back by the short way across the lawn, (fo Verreker) Is it hurting much? Verreker. Oh no. It's nothing. Margery. Sit down here, (drags up sofa) And you must put your foot up and give it a complete rest. And if it's not better this evening we'll send for Dr. Jenkins. Wasn't it lucky we hadn't got farther from the house when it hap- pened, mother. It's so bad to walk with a sprain. Verreker. It's not a sprain really, Margery. Just a twist. That's all. THE caARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 75 Lady Denison. Will you please not call my daughter Margery, Mr. Verreker. Margery. Not call me Margery? But, mother we're engaged! Lady Denison. You are not engaged, Margery. I cannot allow you to be engaged — at least not to Mr. Verreker. Margery. Why not, mother? Lady Denison. He knows quite well. And I think he's not behaved honourably in asking you to be engaged to him. When you know his true character you will think so too. Margery. Do you mean about his leaving the army? Lady Denison. Yes. Margery. But I know about that. Lady Denison. I don't think you do. Not all about it. You imagine, as I did, that he left the army because he had been foolish or got into debt or something. It was not that. Mr. Verreker left the army for a far more serious reason which you know nothing about. Margery. Oh yes I do, mother dear. Hugh told me all about it this morning. , Mrs. Eversleigh. He told you ! Margery. Yes. Before he asked me to marry him. Mrs. Eversleigh. Eeally! Lady Denison. Margery! It's impossible. You would never have accepted him if he had told you. Mr. Verreker is not a fit person for any girl to marry. He is dishonest. 76 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Margery. (laying hand instinctively on, Hugh's shoulder) Mother! Lady Denison. He spent money that didn't be- long to him, money that had been entrusted to him. Margery. I know. And when the time came he couldn't pay it back. He told me all that quite fully before he proposed to me. I thought it was very honourable of him. Mrs. Evbrsleigh. Honourable! Margery. Yes. Wasn't it honourable? To tell me I mean. He might have said nothing about it, or at least concealed the worst part hoping we should never find out. But he didn't. He told me everything. I think that was partly what made me say " yes." Mrs. Eversleigh. Margery ! You must be out of your senses. Margery. Why? It's all over now, quite over and done with. What is past is past. It happened four years ago. Surely we might forget it now? Lady Denison. No, Margery. A thing like this can never be forgotten. Margery. I can't think that. One should al- ways forgive wrong-doing, shouldn't one? And if one forgives why not forget? Mrs.- Eversleigh. Rubbish ! Lady Denison. Mr. Verreker I must speak very seriously to my daughter about this. But there's no need for you to stay if you'd rather not. It would only be painful for you to hear. Would you rather leave us for a little? Verreker. [calmly) Thank you. Lady Deni- THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 77 son. I don't mind, {settles himself on his sofa, pause) Maegery. Mother, aren't you all being rather hard on poor Hugh? We all do things we're ashamed of sometimes. Not quite the same things as this perhaps, but still wrong things. And if we're sorry and try not to do them again oughtn't that to be enough? Mrs. Eveesleigh. (snaps) No! Margery, (confidently) I'm sure Mr. Hylton thinks so. Hylton. No, Miss Denison. In this matter I agree with Mrs. Eversleigh. Margery. Mr. Hylton! Hylton. Your mother has told you what she wishes. I think you should obey her. It is your duty, (pause) Margery, (slowly) Of course one should obey one's parents I know. . . . But there are other duties as well. Hylton. (earnestly) Miss Denison I've no right to speak to you about this or to urge you in any way. And if you resent it I cannot complain. But the friendship I feel for you and your mother, the kindness you have always shown me, makes me risk that. Break off this engagement ! Break it off I beg of you. It is impossible that a girl like you should be happy with such a man as Mr. Verreker. Margery, (quite simply) But one shouldn't only think of happiness when one marries should one? Hylton. What do you mean? ?8 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Margery. I mean there are other things. One would like to be happy of course. But other things are more important. Helping people for instance. Mrs. Evbrsleigh. (scandalised) Are you go- ing to marry Mr. Verreker because you want to help him? Margery. Of course. This morning when Mr. Hylton and I were talking about Hugh he said there was so much that was good in him that only needed bringing out. That the eyes of his soul had not been opened yet. And he said that if he fell into good hands he would be all right, but if he fell into bad hands he might go on being care- less and indifferent always. So I thought if he married me I might prevent him from falling into bad hands. Hylton. (much distressed) But when I was talking to you about Mr. Verreker this morning I never dream'd of your marrying him. Margery. Nor did I — then. But afterwards, when he asked me, I remembered. And so I said yes. I'm sure I did right, (lays hand on Ver- reker's) Hylton. Miss Denison, this is terrible. I as- sure you what you are doing is not right but wrong. It is quite right that you should want to help Mr. Verreker, of course. But it is not right that you should marry him. Margery. But perhaps it is only by marrying Hugh that I can help him? You see it's not easy for a girl to help a man however much she may wish to. They see so little of each other. And if THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 79 you're teally to influence people you must be loith them, mustn't you ? But when people are married they are always together and then it's easy. So I'm sure I'm doirig right in marrying Hugh. When a girl marries she should choose someone she can do good to, someone who Heeds her. Now I think perhaps Hugh does need me for he's not always been a very good man so far. He's been lazy and rather selfish and not very thoughtful for others. I'm going to cure him of that! Am I not, Hugh? Vereekee. {half smiling) If you can, Mar- gery. Maegery. And that's really worth doing, isn't it! You see if I married a good man — like you, Mr. Hylton — I couldn't help him at all. He'd be quite good already. But Hugh has done foolish things Eind wrong things as we know. I can help him. Lady Denison. Margery, I think you ought to listen to what Mr. Hylton says and what I say and do what we ask. It's very wrong of you to be so obstinate. You know we're thinking only of your good. Margery. Yes, but are you thinking of Hugh's good, mother? Lady Denison. (plaintively) What does she mean? Margery. Would it help him if I broke it off? Mrs. Eversleigh. Tck! Who ever heard of marrying a man to help him. Maegery. Why not. Aunt Emily? Mr. Hyl- 80 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. ton always says the only real way of helping people is to love them. And if one loves people of course one should marry them. Mrs. Evbrsleigh. Loves them! So that's it, is it ! You're not marrying Mr. Verreker because you want to help him but because you've fallen in love with him. And you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Margery. Of course I love Hugh. What is there to be ashamed of in that ? Mrs. Everslbigh. (angrily) Is there nothing to be ashamed of in wanting to marry a worthless man knowing him to be worthless? You have heard of men marrying worthless women I sup- pose? Nobody thinks they're performing a moral duty and setting an example to their fellows. On the contrary we think them weak or vicious. What you are doing is exactly what they do. Only they have the grace not to talk morality about it. Margery. I don't expect you to understand, Aunt Emily. You never do like the way mother and I look at things, do you? Lady Denison. (plaintively) Oh, don't bring me into this, please. Margery. Very well, mother. But I did think you would be on my side. And Mr. Hylton. I love Hugh and ' I want to help him. There's nothing strange in that is there? When one wants to help people one always does get to love them. That's the splendid thing about helping people, (pause) Mrs. Eversleigh. Well, there's no use argu- THE CHARITY THAT BE3GAN AT H6ME. SI ing with Margery while she's like this. She evi- dently has no moral sense whatever! Lady Denison. Mr. Verreker, I appeal to you. You see what Margery is doing. Release her from this engagement She is merely sacrificing her- self from a fantastic sense of duty. Verreeee. {with dangerous politeness) Surely not? If so I have gravely misunderstood Mrs. Eversleigh. I thought it was Margery's fan- tastic sense of affection she objected to? Margery. Hugh dear! Mrs. Eversleigh. If you are going to insult me, Mr. Verreker. ... ! Verreker. I really beg your pardon. Perhaps I oughtn't to have said that. But some not very pleasant things have been said about me, haven't they? Mrs. Eversleigh. And with reason. A man of your antecedents has no right to propose to the daughter of the house in which he is staying. It is taking advantage of her inexperience. It is dishonourable. Verreker. Is that so? Then I'm probably rather lacking in the finer sense about these things. . . But I suppose everyone is inclined to find excuses for his own misdeeds while remaining inflexibly severe towards his neighbours'. That's the foundation of all morality, isn't it, Hylton? Mrs. Eversleigh. I should have thought steal- ing. . . ! Verreker. Yes. Stealing's an ugly word, isn't it? It even makes me uncomfortable. . . And yet if you understood the whole circum- 8^ THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. stances you might take a more lenient view. But that of course would be a very bad thing for morality. So no doubt you'd rather not. Hylton. Lady Denison, if Mr. Verreker has anything to tell you that will put a more favor- able light on the General's story. . . . Veeeekbe. The General's? So he told you? Lady Denison. He heard it from Colonel Nicholson who commands your old regiment. Vebeekee. Yes, yes. I remember. He said he was writing to him. Poor General, so he really has been able to finish a story for once! Hylton. I was going to say that it would be only fair to give Mr. Verreker every chance of defending himself. Veerekee. Oh I don't think it amounts to a defence. Merely a statement of the case fretn the person who knows most about it — the criminal as Mrs. Eversleigh would say. — I was an extrava- gant young fool. The regiment was an expensive one. I had a small allowance. I had lost money over cards — and other things — to richer men than I was — who by the way ought never to have played with me at all. Like an idiot I thought I must pay my debts to them whatever happened. You know the nonsense that is talked about a debt of honour. To do that I used money belonging to the mess which happened to be in my hands. Of course I hoped to pay it back at once or I shouldn't have done it. Equally of course I failed to do so. The horse that was simply bound to win lost and I played cards for a whole week and never held a trump. The usual thing. When THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 83 things were pretty desperate I cabled to Uncle Montague — I was in India at the time — asking him to send me a hundred pounds by return. Of course I lied to him about the reason. Everybody does lie I suppose about that sort of reason. I said I owed it to tailors and people I remember. Naturally Uncle Mont didn't see the force of sending me a hundred pounds without haggling about, it. Uncles always do baggie about money, I believe. At least mine do. So Uncle Mont haggled and like a young ass instead of going straight to the Colonel or the money-lenders I faked the accounts. It was purely a temporary expedient. I knew the money would turn up in a week or two. It was merely a question of gain- ing time. But as luck would have it someone with an elementary knowledge of arithmetic hap- pened to glance at the accounts. He spotted some- thing was wrong and told the others and instead of coming to me they went to the ColoneL The Colonel sent for me and there was no end of a row. I tried to make him understand but he couldn't. The stupidity of military men has been proverbial in all ages. I'm a bit of a fool myself as you will have noticed. He stormed and I was sulky. My borrowing the money intending to repay it he could just understand but faking the accounts to conceal the fact was beyond him. Though it was the logical consequence of the other if the thing was to be kept dark. When the fat was in the fire Uncle Mont's cheque turned ap. But by that time we'd all lost our tempers, 84 THE5 CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. the Colonel was prancing round about the honour of the Regiment, and I had to send in my papers. Hylton. (half to himself) Poor fellow. Verrekee. Eh ? Hylton. Nothing. Margery, {triumphant) Mr. Hylton I knew you'd understand. Thank you. (pause) Mrs. Eversleigh. (acidly) Well Mr. Verre- ker you've made out a very clever case and you've put it very glibly. It must have taken you some time to prepare. Verrekee. Just four years, Mrs. Eversleigh. It happened four years ago and I've not had much else to think of since. It was a confoundedly silly thing to do as I said and I've been wonder- ing ever since how I came to do it. The result of my consideration is the story I've told you. I don't ask you to believe it of course. But it's quite true. Hylton. / believe it, Verreker. And I'm more sorry for you than I can say. If I've said any- thing that was harsh or unjustifiable please for- give me. Verreker. Not at all, my dear fellow. Lady Denison. It's all dreadfully sad, Mr. Verreker. I see that. But still it doesn't alter the facts, does it? You have had to leave the army. Your reputation is ruined. And that makes you not a fit husband for Margery. Verreker. I feel that, Lady Denison. Margery. Hugh ! Mrs. Eversleigh. Then why did you propose to her? THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 85 Vbkreker. (shrugs) A sudden impulse I suppose. That's how most people propose isn't it? If they stopped to think they'd think better of it, and then no one would ever marry at all. Which would perhaps be the wisest plan for all parties. Lady Denison. Still in your case you must admit there were special reasons? Verrekee. I don't know. How many men are fit husbands for the girls they marry? One in a hundred? One in a thousand? Girls are so ridiculously innocent. And men are so ridicu- lously depraved. I'm not so very much worse than the others. Only I was stupider. And that ruined me. But it was four years ago. And I'm not likely to do it again. A man doesn't play the fool like that twice. One pays too dear for it. Considered as a husband I'm probably the better for the experience. I've learnt by it. (pause) Lady Denison. Mr. Verreker, what you say is quite true and I daresay you're not really worse than many men, though the world judges things like this more hardly than other things. But we are in the world and we must accept its judg- ment as we cannot alter it. If you marry Mar- gery she will have to suffer for what you have done. I don't think you want her to do that. Be generous and release her from her promise. Verreker. My dear Lady Denison I put my- self entirely in Margery's hands. If she wishes to end our engagement she is absolutely free to do so. I assert no claim over her whatever. I agree with you that she would only be acting 86 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT H0ME3. wisely to break it ofif and I sha'n't dream of blam- .ing her if she does so. But you mustn't ask me to break it off. A man can't do that. But if Margery wants her freedom she has only t6 speak. Htlton. (enthusiastic) That's fine of you^ Verreker. That's noble on my soul. You really are a good fellow. I know what it must cost you to give up a girl like Miss Denion. I honour you for it. {Holds out hand) Verreker. (taking it). Thanks, my dear chaj). But you mustn't be too preeipitate. I haven't given her up yet. Margery hasn't spoken. Lady Denison. Margery dear you will break it off? Margery. No, mother. As long as Hugh wants me I shall stand by him. LADY Dbnison. Then you don't love you? mother. (Margery runs impulsively to her mother and kisses her.) Margery. Of course I love you, mother dear. But I love Hugh too. (pause) Mrs. Everslbigh. Well, I suppose there's no more to be said. If Margery is determined to* ruin herself nobody can prevent her. '^ou of course will continue to forbid the engagement, Muriel, but Margery is of age and if she chooses to defy you and marry this Mr. Verreker she can do so. But in that case I hope you will en- tirely refuse to make her any allowance and in fact will disinherit her. Lady 1)bni«on. What nonsense, Emily. Of THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 87 course Margery must have an allowance. What else is she to live on? Especially as I suppose Mr. Verreker has nothing? Veerbker. Next to nothing. Lady Denison. Very well then. Naturally I shall have to help them. And as for disinherit- ing her that's impossible even if it were just, as I've no other children. No, Margery must be pro- vided for in any case. I'm sorry she is unwilling to do as I wish and I think this engagement ter- ribly unwise and unsuitable. But I suppose she's very fond of Hugh just as I was very fond of Charlie — before I married him. And so she must do as she likes. (Mrs. Eversleigh gives up the struggle in de- spair and opens her hook again vnth a shrug.) Margery. Darling mother! {embraces her) Now you're being like yourself again instead of being like Aunt Emily — which doesn't suit you one bit. I always knew you'd agree with me really — and Mr. Hylton — though you took rather longer than I expected. Hugh, give mother a kiss like a dutiful son-in-law and say you think her the best woman in the world. Verreker. {drily) I think I'll spare poor Lady Denjson that. She's had a great deal to put up with during the past hour. Margery. Poor mother, I suppose she has. Verreker. I hope however later on she'll get more reconciled to things. She can't really dis- like me as much as she thinks, otherwise she wouldn't have asked me here. 88 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. (Mrs. Eversleigh closes her hook deliberately with a smile of malicious satisfaction.) Mrs. Eversleigh. {with hitter politeness) I'm afraid I really must disabuse you of that idea, Mr. Verreker. My sister-in-law has curious views of hospitality. She doesn't ask people to her house because she likes them or thinks them pleasant acquaintances, but because they are dis- agreeable or disreputable or haven't anywhere else to go. It's a new form of philanthropy. Mr. Hylton invented it. (Verreker hursts into a shout of delighted laugh- ter.) (icily) You seem amused. Verreker. I am. How delicious! So that's why I was invited! Because I was down on my luck and wasn't asked to many houses. And I thought it was because of my delightful society. Mrs. Eversleigh. {venomously) You were certainly strangely mistaken. Verreker. {laughing again) So it seems. And that explains why all these other people are here I suppose? I thought they were rather a damaged lot. Old Bonsor, Miss Triggs, Firket, that appalling Mrs. Horrocks, Hylton, who's an excellent chap but quite mad. And you too, I dare say, Mrs. Eversleigh. . . . ? Mrs. Eversleigh. I, sir! Certainly not! I am here because I am Lady Denison's sister-in- law. Verreker. That's no reason. Lots of people THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 89 hate their sisters-in-law. I know I simply loathe iiij brothers. Mrs. Eversleigh. I am glad to think that Lady Denison is unlike you in that as in every respect. Lady Denison. Of course, Emily. I asked you because I like to have you here. And Mr. Hylton too. I must invite the people I like oc- casionally. Verreker. I see. Well, Lady Denison, I think it's a splendid idea of yours, far more amusing than the ordinary way of Inviting people. And the more dreadful they are the more amus- ing it must be. Margery and I must certainly take to it when we have a house. Lady Denison. I don't see anything amusing in it, Mr. Verreker. In'fact it's often extremely unpleasant and leads to most regrettable com- plications. Verreker. Such as my getting engaged to Margery? Mrs. Eversleigh. {acidly) That among other things. Verreker. Do none of them knowf Lady Denison. No. Verreker. Why not? They'd be awfully amused. (General is heard approaching window e. c. hum- ming a song.) By Jove, here is the General. I must tell him. Lady Denison. Please! Please! Verreker. Yes I must. I owe him one for 90 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. telling you all that about me. You owe him one too. He's given you a most uncomfortable after- noon. {Enter General r. c.) General Bonsor. (talcing out watch) Isn't it tea time, Lady Den i son? I think so. Vbrreker. Long past. I say, General, why have you been telling tales iabout me to Lady Den i son? General Bonsor. (gobbling) If it comes to my knowledge, sir, that a man who is staying in a lady's house with me is not a person whom other people wish to meet I make it a rule to in- form my hostess of the fact. Verreker. (heartily) And a very good rule too. Only Lady Denison doesn't ask people to her house whom other people wish to meet. It's against her principles. Lady Denison. (protesting) Mr. Verreker! General Bonsor. (gobbling again) Upon my word, Sir ! (Mrs. Horeocks and Miss Teiggs enter unnoticed L. c. and stand listening.) Verreker. Lady Denison selects her visitors on philanthropic grounds — ^because they're dis- agreeable or disreputable or merely boring. It's a form of self-denial with her. That's why she asked you. That's why she asked me. That's why she asked all of us. General Bonsor. What! Mrs. Horrocks. What! ! ! Verreker. (seeing Mrs. Horrocks for the THE CHARITY THAT BaGAN AT HOME. 91 first time. To himself) Good Heavens! Mrs. Horrocks ! Mrs. Horrocks. (with awful dignity) Yes, Sir, Mrs. Horrocks. Miss Triggs and I returned from our walk just in time to hear your extra- ordinary statement, {bleat from Miss Triggs) May I ask what truth, if any, it contains? Verreker. Keally, Mrs. Horrocks, I'm very sorry you should have heard what I said. . . . .Mrs. Horrocks. (sternly) Is it true, sir? (Verreker makes hopeless gesture, hut says noth- ing) Lady Denison, perhaps you will inform me? General Bonsor. (more in sorrow than in an- ger) Why was I invited here, Lady Denison? Miss Triggs. And I? Lady Denison. (completely flustered) , I never meant you to know. I never meant Mr. Verreker to know. It's very unfortunate. Please accept my apologies all of you. I'm most dis- tressed this should have happened. Mrs. Horrocks. Then it is true! Miss Triggs. Really ! Lady Denison. (meekly) I don't think Mr. Verreker need have told the General. It was most inconsiderate of him. But I hope you won't hold me responsible. Miss Triggs. (icily) Will you kindly order the carriage to take me to the station. Lady Den- ison? I shall leave by the six o'clock train. Mrs. Horrocks. Of course you will not expect me to remain. General Bonsor. Nor me ! Boring ! Lady Denison. (much distressed) Oh need 92 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. you all go like that? After all there's nothing so very dreadful in what you've heard. It was Mr. Hylton's idea. Miss Triggs. That dissenting person ! I al- ways felt he was an impostor. He tried to make me believe he was a clergyman 1 remember. Lady Denison. He meant it kindly. We all meant it kindly. Mrs. Horrocks. Lady Denison, if you cannot understand how insulting this is to me I cannot make you do so. But I should have thought, con- sidering my birth and connections, I might have claimed a somewhat different treatment. The carriage please for the six o'clock train. {Sweeps out l.) Miss Triggs. And will you please send some tea to my room. I shall not come down again before I leave. (Exit L.) General Bonsor. Boring! {Exit L.) Mrs. Eversleigh. This, Muriel, is what comes of beginning one's Charity at Home! CURTAIN. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 93 ACT IV. Scene. — The Dining-room at Priors Ashton. A week, has passed since Act III. There is a round dining-table alyout c. round which are sitting at dessert La&y Denison^ Verreeer, Margery, Hylton and Mrs. Eversleigh. Lady Denison faces the audience. The rest sit each on the other's right in the order given ahove. There is a side-ioard l. c. A door to kitchen regions up r. The double doors to hall are down L. There is a large window, curtained up L. and another k. c. The big fireplace is r. with armchairs on either side of it. The room is lighted by electric lights on the walls but there are also shaded candles in silver candlesticks on the table. Silver cigar box on mantelpiece. When curtain rises William is handing fruit. William, {to Mrs. Eversleigh) Grapes, madam ? Mrs. Eversleigh. {taking some) What fine grapes you have this year, Muriel ! (William hands to others.) Margery. Aren't they? I took some to old Biddy Porter to-day. She's been ill. Mrs. Eversleigh. Who is old Biddy Porter? 94 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Margery. She lives at Ashton Parva, in one of those little houses before you get to the church. And she's had influenza so I thought it would be nice to take her some grapes. She was so pleased. Verreker. (grimly) The gardener wasn't. Margery. No. Poor Thomson. He's so funny about the fruit. He seems to think we grow it entirely for ourselves. He's quite angry when I give any of it away. He doesn't even like my sending any to the cottage hospital. Lady Denison. You will be careful with Thomson, won't you, Margery. He's so easily offended. I remember last year when you took all the early peaches to the Workhouse infirmary just before we were giving some dinner parties he nearly gave warning. And I don't want to lose him. He's such an excellent gardener. (William having finished Ms duties goes out r.) Mrs. Evebsleigh. The new butler hasn't come yet? Lady Denison. No. We expect him to-mor- row. I do hope he'll be a success. He has the highest references. Mrs. Eversleigh. That must be very distress- ing to Mr. Hylton. Margery. Aunt Emily you're not to scratch Mr. Hylton. He's been working at proofs all day and now he wants a rest. Verreker. Lucky chap! Maegeky. What do you mean? Verreker. To have you prescribing rest for him. You don't prescribe much rest for me! THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 95 Lady Denison. Has Margery been workng you very hard, Hugh? Margery. Of course not mother. Hugh's only talking nonsense. Vereeker. Am I! Just you listen. This morning I left some soup with Mrs. Green while Margery was taking Biddy Porter her grapes. She stopped the carriage at Mrs. Green's and dropped me there. It was nearly half an hour before she came back for me and I had to hear the history of every disease from which the old lady had ever suffered and to look at her bad leg. Mrs. Evbrsleigh. Really, Mr. Verreker! Vereeker. Arm, then. I know it was some part of her poor old body though I couldn't recognize it. It was quite disgusting. I should have gone away only Mrs. Green lives four miles from here and I hate walking when its hot. How- ever the carriage came back at last and then we drove on to the church which Margery is decorat- ing for some reason or other. I think because the harvest has failed. There I sat in a pew and made a wreath of mangel-wurzels to adorn the font. Margery. Not mangel-wurzels. Vereeker. Well, some kind of vegetable. We got back to lunch at last — late of course. The wreath took so long. And in the* afternoon — after a brief interval of repose — I wrote letters on behalf of a certain Mary Gamage who wants to get into an orphanage at Basingstoke — which seems an odd taste. I wrote twenty-five of them. 96 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Margery. Only after you'd been coaxed for a whole quarter of an hour. You were quite cross about it and said you weren't a galley slave. Verreker. Well, I was wrong. Margery. You'were very disagreeable. Verreker. I know. I hoped we were going to quarrel. But you wouldn't. That's the worst of Margery. She never will quarrel. Hylton. It's a good fault. Verreker. Is it! However I wrote twenty- five letters on behalf of Mary Gamage as I said. And I've got seventy-five still to do. They were to ask subscribers to the orphanage for their votes. I gather some five hundred other people are busily engaged in writing the same number of letters on behalf of their orphans and the sub- scribers in common politeness will have to write to the whole five hundred of us to say they have given their votes to the 501st. They can only vote once. The mere expenditure in postage stamps would suffice to endow another orphanage, not to speak of the waste of my time and their's. Moreover I'm given to understand that this ritual is gone through every time the orphanage has a vacancy and that there are more than a hundred orphanages similarly conducted in this distracted country. Who ever heard of such tomfoolery! Margery. It Is troublesome .of course. But I don't see how else you could settle whom to let in. There are so many orphans. Verreker. You could put the names in a hat, shake it and take the one that fell out first. Lady Denison. But would people subscribe to orphanages if they didn't get a vote? THE CHARif Y f HAT BEGtAN AT HdME. 97 Verrekee. What on earth do they want votes for? Lady Denison. In order that their orphans may get in instead of the others. Verrbker. Another illusion gone! I used to think charitable people gave their money because they were genuinely anxious to do good. I now find on the highest authority that they do it to keep out each other's orphans. Margery I won't write another letter. Margery. Oh, Hugh, how horrid of you. If you don't / shall have to do them and you said you would. Verreker. Very well, I suppose I must as I said so. But my faith in charity is shattered. Nothing survives a closer acquaintance. Not even orphanages. Margery. How absurd you are, Hugh. You know you only talk like that because you think it will shock us. And it doesn't shock us one bit. We only think it silly. Vbrreker. As you please, dear. But if that's the only way in which orphans can be kept alive I think you'd better drown them — and I've been an orphan myself. Lady Denison. Do you mind talking about sometlring else for a moment Hugh? I think I hear William with the coffee and he mightn't like it. (William enters r. and hands coffee.) Hylton. (to Mrs. Eversleigh) Did you get as far as Croome this afternoon, Mrs. Eversleigh? 98 THE CHARITY THAT BEOAN AT HOME. Mrs. Eversleigh. Yes. Poor Lady Seath- waite is still in bed. But the doctor says she may be able to come down on Monday. Verreker. What's the matter with Lady Seathwaite? (Mas. Eversleigh ignores him.) Lady Denison. She has a bad attack of gout. She has it every autumn. Verreker. I see. Over-eats herself. Mrs. Eversleigh. Mr. Verreker will you kindly remember that Lady Seathwaite is a friend of mine? And that I do not care to hear her insulted? Verreker. I'd no intention of insulting her, Mrs. Eversleigh. It was only a suggestion to account for her indisposition. Mrs. Eversleigh. A most uncalled-for sugges- tion. Verreker. Very well. I withdraw it. I dare- say she eats too little and suffers from poverty of the blood. Margery shall drive me over to- morrow afternoon and we'll ask her which it is. Margery. Hugh, Hugh, you're not to laugh at Aunt Emily. She doesn't like it. And we can't possibly go over to-morrow afternoon because you're coming with me to tea at the Vicarage. Verreker. Let's skip the tea. Margery. Certainly not. The Willises would be dreadfully hurt if we didn't go. And its so unkind to disappoint people. {The electric light suddenly goes out, leaving only the candles on the table alight.) THE CHARITY THAT BEGA^T AT HOME. 99 Mrs. Eveesleigh. Good Heavens! What's that? Lady Dbnison. {calmly) Only the electric light, Emily. Mrs. Eversleigh. Only the electric light! Lady Denison. It does happen sometimes. You see Basset, who looks after the dynamo, isn't really an electrician. He was a footman. Mrs. Eversleigh. Then why does he look after the dynamo? Lady Denison. Well, he was out of a place — Mrs. Eversleigh. Muriel ! Lady Denison. What's the matter now, Em- ily? Nothing else has happened, has it? He was out of a place as I said. He had been second footman at the Fox-Wilkinsons' at Abbots Ashton. But I'm afraid he sometimes took more to drink than was good for him. At last he was found one day after luncheon in the dining-room quite intoxicated. So they had to send him away. When Margery heard of it she wanted to have him here — under Soames. But Soames didn't seem to like the idea. He was quite indignant about it in fact. So as the electric light was being put in just then Margery said that Basset could be taught to look after the engine. But he's not very skilful as yet so the light sometimes goes out for hours at a time. I hope it isn't going to to- night. (The light comes on again, goes out, comes on. Finally remains steady.) That's better Now it's gone again. . . . That's right! 100 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Mrs. Eversleigh. (acidly) I thought you had given up engaging your servants on altruis- tic principles, Muriel? Lady Denison. So I have. But I couldi^'t: send Basset away, could I? I don't think he could get another place. And besides he's really wonderfully improved. He hardly ever takes too much now. Shall we go? (rises) (Lady Denison^ Mrs. Eversleigh, and Margery go out L. Fylton holding open door. Verre- KER strolls to fireplace and leans against man- telpiece. Stretches himself. Hylton moves to Lady Denison's seat.) Verreker. Lady Denison is the most absurd person in the world. .Hylton. Is she? Verreker. Yes. But good people always are more or less absurd, aren't they? Hylton. (smiling) The children of this world are wiser than the children of light cer- tainly. Verreker. Exactly. And she'll never learn wisdom now, poor lady. She's listened to you too long. She'll never get the poison out of her sys- tem. Hylton. She dimissed Soames. Verreker. But keeps Basset. You've won after all. Cigar? (brings silver tox from man- telpiece) Hylton Thanks, (they light up) Verreker. foor Mrs. Eversleigh! How she THE CHAHITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 101 loathes me! She'll never forgive me for having proposed to Margery. Hylton. It doesn't matter. You've Lady Den- ison on your side. Vbreeker. Thanks to ifou. Hylton. I don't think 7'd much to do with it. Vbeeeker. I know better. If it hadn't been for you Lady Denison would be still unreconciled. I've no illusions on that point. Hylton. Miss Denison would have made your peace for you. Verrekek. Yes. Margery has been a brick all through. She always would be. But you backed her up. I wonder why. (pawse) Why was it? Hylton. {hesitates) Perhaps I felt I owed you some amends for the way I behaved when I first »heard of your engagement. Vereeker. I don't know. Your attitude was a perfectly reasonable one. It was a most rid- iculous engagement for Margery. Is in fact. Hylton. Oh no. Vereekee. Oh yes. I am a young man with a discreditable past and no future. Margery will have a good deal of money one day. Considered as a match for her its preposterous. Hylton. {shrugs) I wasn't thinking of money: Veereker. You never are, my dear fellow. Hylton. {laughing) Besides you won't be able to squander Miss Denison's money even if you want to. It'll all be tied up strictly in trust. Verrekee. Yes — I shall be like a dog with a 102 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. biscuit perpetually on his nose and nobody ever saying " paid for." Htlton. (laughing) Something like that. Verreker. However I didn't propose to Mar- gery for her money, so I don't know that that matters. Hylton. Of course not. You proposed to her because you loved her. fiecause you couldn't help seeing how good and unselfish and noble she is. Verreker. (raises his eyebrows.) Hylton. (enthusiastic) No one could help loving Miss Denison. She has all sweet and love- able qualities. She is the most wonderfully good woman I've ever known. Verreker. Yes.^It's a great pity. Hylton. What do you mean? Verreker. People really ought to have some redeeming vices, don't you think? But Margery's quite impeccable, poor dear. I remember I spoke to her about it before I ever thought of proposing to her. Hylton. Scoffer ! Verreker. Not at all Margery's simply riddled with philanthrophy and unselfishness and the Devil knows what. / call it morbid. I don't believe she ever thinks of herself at all. I've never known anyone like her before. I don't believe there is anyone like her. Hylton. (quite simply) Miss Denison has a curiously perfect character. Verreker. That's what worries me. Hylton. Tck ! THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 103 Veeeekeb. It's all very well for you, Hylton. You've not got to live up to it. And if you had I daresay you wouldn't mind. You're a bit of a saint yourself. But for a healthy easy-going mortal like me it's rather alarming. Hylton. You'll get used to it. Veeeeker. You think so? Hylton. Yes — with Miss Denison's help. Why she's helped you already more than you realize. You're a different man from what you were a week ago. Veeeekee. I know. That's what's so annoy- ing. Fancy me distributing soup to old ladies and soliciting votes for a blighted orphan! It's simply disgusting. Hylton. Nonsense, my dear fellow. You like it really, you know. Verreker. I beg your pardon ! My whole soul — I think that's what you call it? — revolts against it. But I do it. That's the miracle. — And I did think the age of miracles was past ! Hylton. {enthusiastic) The age of miracles will never pass while there are men and women like Miss Denison in the world ! (Pause.) Verreker. ( looking at Mm keenly) You're a queer chap, Hylton. Hylton. Why ? Verreker. Nothing. . . . Hylton. Yes. Faith can move mountains, now as always. And Miss Denison has faith, faith in goodness and in truth and in self-surrender. She'll convert you yet. 104 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Verrjekek. (firmly) No! Hylton. She will. You laugh at Altruisin now. In a year you'll be an altruist yourself. And it's your marriage that will have done it. Verrbkbe. So that's why you approve of this absurd marriage. Hylton. Yes: It's to save a soul. Verreker. More philanthropy ! Hylton. (nods) More philanthrophy. This marriage is going to be the making of you. It will help you to find yourself. Your true self, Vbrreebb. (sardonically) I should have thought I'd managed that. Hylton. You're wrong. Your real self is not the healthy easy-going person you talk of. It's the strong, self-restrained, self-denying man, Miss Denison will put in his place. There's nothing the love of a really good woman can't do for a man. It brings out all that is fine in his nature and drives out all that is base. That is what your marriage will do for you ! Veerbkee. The deuce it will! Hylton. {collapsing from his enthusiasm un- der this cold douche) But I must apologise for talking to you like this. I'm afraid it bores you. Verreker. Not a bit. I like it. Hylton. (shaking his head) No. Verreker. Yes, I do. In fact I'm rather in- terested in the Psychology of Benevolence just now. Please go on. Hylton. (laughing) Not to-night. Besides we ought to be moving, (rises) Verreker. Perhaps so. (rises, pause) Will THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 105 Margery always be as good as she is now, do you suppose ? Hylton. (unhesitatingly) I'll stake my life on it. Veereker. No chance of her outgrowing it? Hylton. None ! Verrbkbr. Ah! I hoped she might Well, Hylton, I'm glad to have had this chat with you. You really are a good chap you know. And if you can go on being friends with a sweep like me I shall be grateful. Hylton. I think I shall manage that. ,Veeeekee. {half to himself) I'm not so sure. (Enter Margery l.) Margery. You rude people! You've stayed much too long over your cigars. How is poor William to clear away? Verreker. Can't he do that to-morrow morn- ing? Margery. That shows how much you know about managing a household! Hylton. We were just coming. Miss Denison. Margery. You're too late now. Mother's gone to bed. She's tired. And Aunt Emily's going too. She's cross. And so am I. I'm offended. Verreker. Stay five minutes. Sit down here. Margery. No ! Verreker. Yes. (puts her gently in his own ehair. He sits on arm of armchair) And give me a cigarette. Margery. Ought you to smoke any more? Veereker. No. But I will, (does so) 106 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Margery. I've been getting some mere letters done for Mary Gamage. Vereeker. That infernal orphan ! Margery. Hush! So you won't have quite seventy-five more to write. Verrekee. Thank heaven ! Margery. I think you might get up and do a few before breakfast to-morrow, just to show your gratitude? I'll help. I should like to get them all ofiE before we go to the Vicarage. Verreker. Margery, I refuse! Margery. Very well. But you're very foolish. Before breakfast is the nicest part of the day at this time of year. You lazy people who don't come down till half-past nine don't know what you're missing. Verrekee. We'll take your word for it. Margery. Will you come to tea at the Mack- worths' on Friday, Mr. Hylton? Hylton. Certainly if you like. Margery. You must come too, Hugh. Verreker. All right. Who are the Mack- worths ? Margery. They live in a funny little house in the village. Old Mrs. Mackworth's very deaf and he can't hear much either so they don't have many visitors. It's so tiring talking to deaf people, isn't it? One has to shout so. But I always try to go at least once when we're down here. It cheers them up I think. I'm glad you're both coming. (Verreker groans. She rises.) And now I really must go to bed. Good-night. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 107 Verkekbe. No. Stop a bit longer. Margery. Can't. Vereekbr. Yes, you can. Just till I've fin- ished this. Besides I've something rather par- ticular to ^ay to you. Hylton. (rising) In that case perhaps I'd better retire to the library. Veereker. Do. I'll be with you in two minutes. {Emit Hylton l. Pause.) Margery. Well? What is this important thing you've got to say to me? Vbrrekee. I'll tell you. (pause. Looks at her fixedly for a moment or two) By Jove, you are pretty, Margery. Margery. I don't think that's very important. Verrbker. Then you're very much mistaken ! . . . However that's not what I had to say. (pause) Margery, I want you to break ofE our en- gagement. Margery. Hugh ! Vbrrekee. My dear, I don't like saying it and I hope you don't like hearing it — though I don't want it to hurt you too much either. But I've been thinking things over and I'm quite sure we two oughtn't to marry. Margeey. Why not? Veeeeker. For lots of reasons. I'm not good enough for you, Margery, and that's the long and short of it. Margery. What nonsense! Vbereker. It's not nonsense at all unfortu- 108 THE CHARif Y THAT BEGAN AT HOME. nately. It's a painful truth. Mrs. Eversleigh was right. I ought never to have proposed to you. Margery, (sadly) Do you mean you don't love me, Hugh, as you thought you did? Vbreekbr. No. I don't mean that. I love you as much as ever, more perhaps, now that I'm go- ing to lose you. But on every ground except love I'm quite unfit to marry you. Margery. Surely love is enough? Verreker. No, it isn't. Margery, let's face facts and not shirk them as everyone else seems to do. Marriage isn't a thing to be romantic about. It lasts too long. Margery. Hugh ! Verreker. My dear, it may last forty years. Surely that's long enough in all conscience. Very well then. As one marries for a long time one should choose carefully, reasonably. One mustn't be carried away by passion. Passion's a great thing in marriage but commonsense is a greater. Now what sort of a life should we make of it to- gether if we married, you and I ? Why, my dear, we've not an idea or a taste in common. Every- thing you say makes me laugh and almost every- thing I think would make you blush. It's simply absurd for a girl like you to marry a fellow like me. Let's say so franky and end it. Margery, (puzzled) But, • Hugh, you liked being engaged to me at first, didn't you? Why have you changed your mind? Have / done any- thing? Verreker. No, dear. You've been absolutely sweet and good, as you always would be. Only you're too good and that's all about it. THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. 109 Margery. Now you're laughing at me. Verrekee. I never was further from laughter in my life. I say you're too good and I mean it. You look on life as a moral discipline. I look on it as a means to enjoyment. You think only of doing what you imagine to be right. I think only of getting what T know to be pleasant. They call it incompatibility of temper in the Law Courts, I believe. Margery. I don't understand you, Hugh. Sometimes you seem quite serious and then you say something horrid that spoils it all. Verreker. I know, dear. You don't under- stand me and it's just as well you don't. But that makes the idea of marriage between us rather ridiculous, doesn't it? The sort of man you ought to marry is Hylton — who by the way is over head and ears in love with you. You should have heard his eulogies over you ten minutes ago. He was simply lyrical ! Yes, you must marry Hylton. Will you? Margery, {half laughing, half crying) I am still engaged to you, dear, so far. Verreker. I'll release you. And you really will be happy with Hylton. He's a first-rate chap. Promise me that when you've stopped mourning for me, — say in about a fortnight's time^-you'll seriously consider the possibilities of Hylton. Margery. Are you really heartless, Hugh, or do you only pretend to be? Verreker. I don't know. Ask Hylton. Margery, (sadly) I thought we'd been so happy together since we've been engaged. 110 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Veeeekbei. (heartily) So we have, dear — in spite of Mary Gamage. But then we've only been engaged a week. And I feel years older for it. Maegeet. (hurt) Seriously, Hugh? Veehekee. I'm serious enough. You think everybody can be as self-denying as you are, Margery. You're wrong. Some people are born self-denying just as other people are born self- indulgent. I belong to the latter variety. Maegeet. But you may change? Veeeekee. Men don't change, Margery. They repent but they don't reform. And so our engage- ment has been a mistake. It's my fault 1 know. I ought to have thought of all this before I asked you to marry me. But you were so pretty and — well I didn't. Will you forgive me? Margery. Of course I forgive you, Hugh. It's not your fault. You thought you loved me and you asked me to marry you. Now you find you don't and you ask me to release you. You've been quite kind and straight-forward. There's nothing to forgive. Verrekee. My dear, my dear, it's not that. I loved you before. I love you still. I believe I shall always love you — so long as I don't marry you. But married we should be miserable. Maegeey. (gently) I don't think I should be miserable. Verrekee. (iriskly) I know / should. At first I should be as unselfish as the deuce just to oblige you. But after a bit I shouldn't be able to stand it and I should strike. And then you'd be disappointed and I should be disagreeable and THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Ill our marriage would become a tragedy. I don't want that to happen. I'd rather you found me out now while you're still fond of me than later when you had come to hate me. Margeey. I should never hate you, Hugh-. Verreker. You couldn't help yourself, my dear. An unhappy marriage would demoralize even you. They say some forms of suffering ennoble people, and putting up with what one doesn't like is supposed to be good for the character — though I'm sure I don't know why. But an unhappy mar- riage never ennobled man or woman. It makes them peevish and unreasonable. It sours their tempers and ruins their digestions. My parents didn't get on together, and I know. If the par- sons cared two straws about morality instead of thinking only of their dogmas, they'd make divorc- ing one's wife as easy as dismissing one's cook. Easier. Margery. Hugh ! Verreker. They would! When married peo- ple don't hit it off they jar. There's no middle course. And when the jarring has gone on for a certain length of time it gets past bearing. Hu- man nerves won't stand it. Nothing will enable them to stand it. Not love, nor religion, nor all the seven deadly virtues. Socrates was a good man but he made his wife pretty unhappy. Margery, {sadly) And you think I should make you unhappy? Verreker. (iriskly) I'm sure of it. So let's behave accordingly, (rising) Come Margery, say .you release me and get it over. 112 THE CHARITY THAT BEGAN AT HOME. Margery, {slowly} Very well. If you really wish it . . . you're surie you do wish it ? Verreker. Quite. Thanks, dear. You've be- haved like a trump as you always do. And I think I must kiss you good-bye. (does so ten- derly) Don't say anything to the others till after I've left. I rather dread Mrs. Eversleigh's unconcealed satisfaction. I shall go to-morrow. Margery. Very well. If you'd rather not. Verreker. (looking at ker Half ironiealVy) I'm afraid you think I've been a selfish beast about this? Margery, (wistfully) A little selfish, per- haps. Verreker. You're wrong. For the first and I hope the last time in my life I've done an unselfish action. I'm a pauper, you know, and you're some- thing of an heiress. And I've given you up with- out compensation. It's rather to my credit. Margery. Only because yotl wouldn't be happy. Verreker. No. Because you wouldn't be happy. / should have been all right. But T had to put it the other way or you wouldn't have let me go. / should have given up philanthrophy after the first six weeks and had no end of a good time. But you'd have been wretched. We've done the right thing, (rising) And you won't forget about Hylton will you? Shall we go in? (he goes l. and opens door for her. They go out as curtain falls) CURTAIN. VOL. XLI. II Thn Ffrate'i Lcgiicy 13 The Chiiri:Cttl iiuruA- l» AJelgltha 14 Senor Vnllunte i Foreit RbSB « Ddke's Dmi^hter ' 1 C*miUii't Htiibund. « Pure iiold 1 , VOL. XLTl. « Tfcktft of LeHve Mmn Fool's Revflngfl .1 O'Neiltbe Great 3 Hundy^ Andy 3 f'irite ofttte Iain 4 FaHclion 5 Uaie Barefoot 6 Wild Irish UM VOL. XLI II. 7" Pearl at^iwoy $ Dead Heart 9 Ttin NighU In a Bar-room Dumb Boyof Manchester 1 BelphegortheMountt^b'k ^Criuketon the Hearth 3 Printer's Devil 4 -Meg's Divertioa {Frerfch's Standard Drama Continued from 2d page of Cover.) VOL. XUV, 346 Drunkat'd'a D^om ;J46 ChiAiaevi Corner >17 Fifteen 'Vearauf a Drunk- ;M» Nb Thoroughfare raril'i 849 Peep 0' Day \_Uit aSU.fSverybody't Friend .IM Gen, Grant 'i&i Katlilei:ti Mavnunieea VOL. XLV.f 353 Nick Whiffles ■ih\ FruftR of tbe.\Vi.[ie Cup - 381 School 1132 Home .;tj3 David Garrick^ 384 Oura VOL. XLIX. , 3(j5 Social Gla£s 366 Daniel Druce :i87 Twb Rffles 3d8 Adrienne ^^9 The Bells 390 Uncle 391 Courtship 393 NdVSuch a. Fool VOL. L. 393 Fine Ff athers 394 proimpier's Box , 395 Iron Master 396 En^itged >91 PypmalloiJ h Galak* 399 1-eah Scrap of Paper 400 LoBt in Lonllea VOL. LL " 401 Octopoon 402 Confedereti* Spy 403 Mariner's EteLura 404 Ruined by Drink 405 DresnaS J06 M. P. ■ 407 War 408 Birth . VOL. LIL 409 Nightingale 410 Progress ■ 411 Play ■ 412 Midnliliht-Charge 413 Confidential Clerk 414 Snowball 415 Our Reffiment 416 Married for Money Haiiilr-t in Three AcU Guttle h Gdlplt FRENCH'S INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHTED EDITION OF THE WORKS OF THE BEST AUTHORS, The, following very successful plays have just been issued at 25 cents per copy. A PAIH OF SPECTACLES. Comedy in ;} AcU' by SvDMBY Grundy, author of *'Sowiog the Wind," Ac. 8 maU, S female characters. ' A FOOIj'S FARADI3Z. An ori^nnl play In 3 Acta bv Sydnxy Grunpy, author of ''Sowing the . Wind,'* Ac. 5 male, 4 female characters. ' -THE SILVER Shield. An ofifrinnl comedy in ■3 Acte,b,v SfYi>NicY,GRDNiVY, author of "Sowing the Wind, "'Ac 6 male, 3 femftle chariwjters., ^ THE GLASS OF FASHIO'fl'. An orlglTial com- edy in 4 Acts hyiSYKtjBV. Grum>y, author of ''Sowing the Wind,'' Ac. 5 male, 5 feipale cbari^tera. THE BALLOON. Farcical comedy In 3 Acta l>yJ' H. Dakmlsy and MAntille Fenm. 6 male, 4 hma\t characters. ' , - MISS CLEOPATRA. Farce In 3 AcU by Abthds SHiai.KY. 7 niale, 3 female cbaracterG'. , SIX PEBSONS. Comedy Act by I. Zanswill. 1 male, 1 fumale character. FASHIONABLE INTBLLIGENjCE. Cotocdi- etta In, 1 Act by PasdV Fbhoall.' 1-qiale, ^femala character. , | , i' ■ ' HIGHLAND LEGACY. Comedy in 1 -Act b- , BsANDON Thomah, author of ' " Charley'i S malt, 2 femftle CharttcCers. t by nt/' Contents of Catalogue which is>ent Fr^e* ' Amitteur Drama .Amateur Operas Articles Needed by Amateur*' Art ofSrene Painting' , Baker^s Reading Club ' ' i. '^ardSt^Whiskeri, Moataches, etO. Bound Seis of PlavB Bnlwer Lytton.'t Playa Burleique' Dra^aa - Burtit Cork Cabman's Story Camivhl of Authors -Charade Plav* .Chlldrpn'B PVays . /Comic Dramas for Male Charactel^i . only Coatume Booki' ' Crape Jlair Cumberland Edition Darkey ' Dramas Dramas for Boys Drawin'p-ronm ^o nolo pies Elocution,! Reciters and Speaken EtUopiaa Dralnas 'Bvenlnirlk F^iiterlaitiment Faii;y ftnd Home, Plays. , - French's Costumes ■ French's Kditfons French's Italian Operas ^ -, French's Parlor Comedies .,'- French's StanflaT;d and Minor Dran French's Standard and.I^inbr Dram bound,' ~ - _ f^- - ' French's Scenes for'Amstei" Frobiifier's Popular Recitals Orarid AmylDramas Guide' Boo'kE for Amnteiirs Giiide to Seieotmir PUys ' fllnti on Costumfs (lotpe Plays Hfir Ladies Frfsh Plays Irving'* Plays ! Juvenile Plays . ' Make-Up Book ' Make-up Box Mock Trial 1 Mrs. Jarley's Wax Work* New Plays l^flw Recitation Books ■ NigK^er Jokes and Stiimp Speeches Parlor Mapc Parlor Pantomimes l^ieqes of Pleasantry -Poeras.for Recitations Playri for Mal« Characters •aly Rutlnd Gaines Scenery ' , Scriptural and Historical DraUaa Sessfttion, Dramas BS'lO-Comic Drainas ShadoW Pantomimes Shaltespearu's Plays for Amatean Sliakespeare'a Playa , Stanley's Dwarfs Spirit Gom Tableaux ,VivantB Talma Actor's Art Temperance Plays ' " , ■ Vocal Music of ShakespearaV Flays Webster's Aoting Edition Wigs, etc. " - 'OL, XLI. 3S1 Advrntnrei of a Love 3SS ost Child [Lettei 323 Court Cards 384 rajc, and Box 336 Fortv Winks 3S« Wonderful Woman ^,97CHrloni Case SQ^Tweedlutoik's ^aU Coat (French's Minot- Drama.Continueii from 4th page of Cover.) VOL. XLII. 329 As Like ai Two P(t« .3.30 Presumptive Evidencs .t31 Happy Band 3.12 Pinafore ' .1.13 Moclt Trial 334 Hy TlncU's Will 335 6 My"?! 33tiMy •J Pair D Next ,^ VOL. XLIIL , 387 Sunset 33dForHa1faMiIUoQ 339 Ciible.Car 340 Early Bird 341 Alumni Play 34:2 Show of Hands 343 Barbara 344 Who's Who VOX- gCLFV. 345 Who's To Win HIb 346 Wlilch ts Whldi 347 Cup of Tea 34^'Sarah'i Younir If a& 34^ Hearts 3Sp In Honor Bonnd' ' [Law 3fi! Preeiing- a Holhar-li- 359 My Lord In Livery SAMUEL FRENCH, 26 West 22dSti, New York City. f3^'^'^w »|ul Explicit Descriptive CmUiii>%u9 Maiied Pne on Request. FRENCH S MINUK DRAMA. Prlc« 15 Cents each.— Bound Volumes $1.25. ' , VOL, I. 1 .The KrlBb Attorney . 2 Bb»ts Httllo Svrm 3 How to Pay tbe Rent 4 The Loan of a Lover .JJThe De.tdShlot 6 His Last Lej^s 1 Tbe triTisible Prince 5 The OwMbh Fartuer , - VOL. IL 9 Pride of the Market - 10 Uied Up 1 1 The Iriali Tutir IS'The Barrack Rjom 13 Luke the La-iorei; 14 Beauty and the Beast 15 St. Patrlclt's Eve . 16 Captain of tlie Watch VOL. IIL .nTheSBLTet [pi la While Hoi^e of the Pep- I» The Jacobite SO Tbe Bottle ,, 91 Box ami Cox ' 32 BfernboozUiig ' 23 Widow'e Victim 24 Robart Micaire VOL. iV. 26 Secret Service 310miiihtis. ' 2T Irlsli Lim 28 Maid of Crolaay ' 29 The Old Guard 3a Raising the wind 31 Slasher tnd Cr.isher 8S I<(aval HI'igigeiueDte ' : VOL. V. 83Cockntes in Oalitornia ' 34'W'luJrSpBiiliB First 36 BoTnbnst«=t Knrioso 36 MacliBub TraveatiC' 37 IrlBh j^itiliossidor 55 Dflkati; finmnd ^'9 The W,-athercrtclt [Gold 40 All thai ijlitt-jr* is Not VOL. VI. 41 Grimshaw, 'B«ssbavr aad -' BradehAvr . 42 Rougl^ Dian^ond 43 BloOmer, Costume ' 14 Two BohnycastleB " 45i B^m to OaoA LUck lb KiBB In tbe Dark: [ji ' 47 'Twoold Puzsle a Con- 18 Kill or Cure . VOL- vir, 49 Boxand^ozMa 50 St Ctiptd 6t^o-to-bedTora fiS Tbe Lavryera. 63'jack Snetipard 54 The Tdodle« B6 The Mobnap, 56 Ladies Beware VOL. VIII. 57 Morning Call 6S Popping; theiQueatioK 59 Oe.if 16 a Po^t 80 New Footman 61 Pleasant N'eighbor 62 Paddy the Piper fi3, Brian O'Lina 64 Irish Assurance VOL. IX. 65 Temptiition 66 Paddv Carey 67 Two GreE;orie3 ' 68 King Charming 69 Pii-c»-hon-t»s 70 Clock maker's Hat 71 Married Raka 72 Love and Murdei-', , VOL. X. 73 Ireland, and America 74 Pretty Piece of Bualneaa 75 irisb Broom-maker 76 To Paris and Back f< Five Pound* 77 That Blessed Baby 78 Our Oal 79 Swiss Cottage ■80 Young Widow Tied and [Rattled VOL. Xi. 81 O'Flannigan aad the fat- 8? Iriab I'ost [ries 83 Mv Neighbor's Wife 84 Irish Tiger 85 P. P., or Man :invoQue''n3 lOSTliiiiiiuiiig Legacy 103 Ujifiniahcd a»ntleia an 104 House Dog . , VQL. Kl\. 05 Tbe De non Lover 106 Matrimony 107 In and Outof PKca I Din? with My -VUthor. 109 Hi-a-wa-tha 110 AnJv Blake in-Love in '76 ' [tie: I li! Romance under Difficul- VOL. XV. 113 One Coat f.>r 2 Suits 114 A Decided Case llSi Daughter [no rit\ 116 No; or, the Giorrms Ml 117 Cor.iuer's Iiiqnisitixn nt) Love in Hu'iiule Life llfl Family .lars ■■ onalion VOL, XVI. 121 Children in the Wood. 122 Winning a Kuihand ■ 123 Day-After the Fnir 124 Ma'^d Your Wills 125 Rendezvous 126 My Wife's Hu3b,md 1J7 MonHeur Ton^on' 28 lilnjtrious Stranger VOL. XVII. 129 Mischief-Making [Mi '■10 A Live Woman in n The Corsair 132 Shy lock 1.13 Spoiled Child 134 ICvJI Eve ' 135 Vothing to N.irse Wanted i Wldos*' . VOL. XVXII, 137 Lottery Ticket 136 Fortune's Frolic 139 Is h-i Jealous! 140 Married Bacjielpr ,Ul. Huaband at Sight 142 Irishman in London 143 Anl na! Magnetism 144 Highways and By-W ays VOL. XIX. 145 Columbus 146 Harlequin Bluebeard 147 Ladief at Home 148 Phenomenoa In a Smock Frock 149 Comfedy and Tragedy l.^0'OpP93ite N'eiErbbors. 151 Dutchman's Gbost" 152 Persecuted Dutchman VOL. XX. 153'MuBard Ball 154 Great Tr*gic RevivaU 155 High Lovr Jac^ h ^Game 156 A Gentleman trofii Ire- 157 Tom and Jerry [land 1 58 ViHwge lawyer,. 159 Chptain'a not A^miss 160 Amateara and Actors tbe VOL. XJU. T61 Promotion ' [tra? 162 A FasL-inafing Individ- 163 Mrs. Caudle 164 Shakespeare's Dreara 185 Neptune's Defeat 166 Laay of Bedchamber 167 Take Care -of Little 168 iriBh Widow [Charley VOL. XXII. . 169 Yankee Peddler 170 Hiram Hbeout 171 Double- Bedded Itoom 172 The Drarna Defended 173 Vermont Wool Deftler 174 Ehenezer Venture [te^ 175 Prmciplea from' Charac- 176 Lady of the Lake (Trav) Vol. xxiu. - 177 Mad Dogs J78 Hirney tlie Baron I7« Swiss Swoinb 180 Bachelor's Bedroom , 181 A RplftU^.for an Oliver 182 More Blifnders than One 1B3 Dumb Belle 164 Lnn'-rii.-k boy ' . VOL. XXIV. 185'N'a'ture and Philo^phy W6 Teddy the Tiler ' ■187-Spei;tre Bridegroom' 188 MattCff Faltone la? Jenny Liud . 190 Two UuMard* 191 Happy Man ia2 Betsy Baker VOL, XXV. 19«, No. 1 Round the Conjet 194 Teildy RcJe ISS-pbjectof.fnt^i-eat ' l,'6My Fallow Clerk IflT ItHngal Tiger. I't9-Laughing Hvena ' "99 The Victor Vanquished !00 Our Wife VOL; XXVI. 201 My Huaband'a Mirror 20S'Yankee Land' 203 Norah Crein^ 204 Good for Nothing 205 The First Nigb" 206 The Eton Buy 207 Wandering Minstrel >' 208 W.iiited, lOlXI Milliners " VOL. XXVII. 209 Poor Pilcodily 210 Tbe Mummy [Glaaee 211 Don't Forg-t yoiif Opera 212 Love' in Livery, -,^13 Anthony 'And Cfedp ntra yl4Trying It'tJn 215 Stage Struck Yankee 216 Vouna Wlfe-A Old ■ Um- brella VOL. XXVTTL 217 Crinoline 218 A Family Fmllng - 219 Adopted Chiti • 220 Turned Heads 2af A Match in the Dark ' .222 Advice to Husbands' 223 Siame-eTwiriF 2M Sent to tbe Tow^ - VOL. xxrx. , •'2.1 Somebody Rise 2 '6 Ladies' Battle 227 Art of Acting 228 The Lady of the Lion* 229 The Rights nf Man 230 Mv Husband's Ghost 231 T*vo Can Play at that Game 232 Fighting by Pfflxy 233 Unprntecterl F^malB 234 Pet of th«'Pettl6oati 235 Forty and'Flfty .[boot 238 Who St(>le the Tpok^U . . . YOU ZJUU. M!'€"*oI,-»i'iPocumb« 242 Sudden Thought! 243 Jumbo Jum ° "•■'■'(. 244 A Blighted Being 245 Little Toddlekiiii 24b A LoTBrby Proxy [Pril 247 Maid wiCh the Mtnctng Perplexing Predicameut VOL. xxxn. M9 Dr. Dllworth 250 Out to Nurse 251 'A tiucky Hit • ' ^262 The Dowager , - . , '\; 253 Metamoea''(Bur]ebqiis) ' : 264 Dreams of Delusion - *'^ 265 Tlie Shaker Lovers ,- i 256 Ticklieh Timts " ' vot.-xxxm. ^57 20 MinBtes with a Tiger 258 Miralda; or, the Justice of Tacon ' ' 269 A Soldier's Courtship 260 Servauts bv Legacy 261 Dying for Love S68 Alarniitfg Sacrifice , 1 a&3 Valet de Shi.m 264 Nicholat Mckleby VOL. XXXIV. 266 The Laat of the t-fgtaila 266 King Rene's Daughter , 267 The Grotto Nymph 268 A Deviliett aood Joke 269 A Twice Tild Tale 270 Pi^de tai^inatloD ■i7I Rev'oIutiDiraiy Soldier 272 A Man Witfiout a He^ VOL. XXXV. 273 The Olio, Part I 214TJie Olio, Part 2 / 275 The Olio, Part 3- [t«r 276 The Trumpeter's Dawgh- 277 Seeing Warren •n? Green MoiintnlaBoy 279 That Nose ■ 2&0 T(im Noddy's Secret VOL^XXXVL 281 Shocking Eveiits 282 A Regular Fix 28S'Dick Tiirpin 384 Young Somp 285 Young Actress 2S6Callat No. 1—7 287 One Touch oi Nature 288 Two B'boys VOL. XXXVU. " 289 AH the World's a Stage 290 Quash, or Nigger Irac- 291 ,T«rn Hint Out ' ', [tice 292 PreUy GirlSofSiiUbsiK 293 Angel of the Attic ■. 294 CfrCuilnfetancesalterCHM 295 Katty O'Sheal 296 A Supper in Dixie ' ^ VOL. xxxviri, 297 Ici on Parle Francali 898 Who Killed Cock Rpbln 299 Declaration'oflndepenH-' 300 Heads or Tail^ {tmct 301 Obstinate Family 302 Mv Aimt 303 TKat Rascal Pat ■J04 Don Paddv de Barun VOT., XXXIX. [hire 305 too Muqb for Gond Na- 306 Cure for the Fidget* , 307 Jack's the Lad ' '' . 308 WtfchAdoAboutNBthlilg .?09 Artful I^deer ", ' 310 Wlnnine'Kazard 31 1. Day's Fishing . ,l«c. 312 Dld'vou evT a^nd your, VOL. XL. .313 An iTJshman'BManeoTer 314 CoualnlFannle;-,. 316 'Tis tbe Dark«rtrHnurb6- 316 Masquewide ,[fofeDa?«> 237 My Snii- Diana: ' ' hiov Sl7 Crowding (b« §«"=>° 238 UnwRri'ahtable iiitru 239 Mr. and MrB.,W4iite 240 A Quiet Family (French'^s Minor' Drarna Continued..on jd fiage qfCov^r.) 31(1 Good NiehtVIWBt 319 M«n with tfieOarpetBig 320 Tiijrlble Tinker . ■ SAMUEL FRENCH 36 West z2d Street, New York City. New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request. B* * */ * * French/s International Copyrighted (in Eng'land, hit, ] Coloilies, and the United States) Edition ,of the Wo^lts of the BeSt ^ut^hors. THE RETURN OF THE | PRODIGAL * , ,•'■■-" * a Cowie&g in jfodr Ect0 * ' - ■ , /■•'"'' t ■- ^ - ■■■;, '.;....■; t Br. ■ , , ', t , „■,, ST. JOt^N HANKINV'- -x,,: AUTHOR OP '"^fHE T\\'0 MK. ^WETHEK^ V^," I/'jf TltE VjC^AIJJTV THAT'' -\ Aij' 1 HUK. UK ' -THJS rWO MK. jW h. l^MEKB YS,, ,' .^ j. bifiliAS AT HOM^,'' "THt CAasrys'ENGAQE^BJJT." Copyright, 1907, bx Samuel iFjcench ^ CAUTION :^ProfessiQria(fi''and,A«mdteuis are ^lereBy nbtifiedfj ^ifA that thiS:^play- ig" fiiUy^cioipyrighted^urideKth.fc existing laws of ^ , ' tjie United States' Ooyerninentf.,and nobody is allowed to ' " ' on & Co 11 Merchant of Venice es Old Headi&YouDg Hearts 13 Mountaineer! [rl&ge 44 Three Weeki afler Mar- VOL. IX •6 IfOve 6fi Al You Like It «T The Elder Brother 88 Werne* 89 aialppnt 10 Tdwn and Country 11 King Lear 13 Blue Derlli ^ VOL. X. 18'Henry VIII 14 Married and'Slnale 16 Henry IV 16 Pan! Pry VOL. XI. St Julius Cseiar ' 8^ Vicar of Wakefield 8.< Leap Year ■84 The Gat»paw ab The Palling Cloud 8ft Druiikard 87 Rob Roy 88 (jeorge Barnwell VOL. XII. 89 Ingomar ■ 9U Skuicbes-in India 91 TwoFrtendi 9 Jane Shore 95 Coraican Brother! &4 Mind your own Builneis 9.T Writinff on the Wall 96 Heir at Law vot. xin. 97 Soldier's Daughter 9- DoH^lap 99 Mnrco Spada . .1 iOO Nature'i-Noblenaaa 101 Sardannpaliis, ^ lO'i Civilixalioii ma The Rtibbers 104 Katharine nnd Petruchio VOL. XIV. 105 Gani^ofLove 106 Midsummer Night's 117 Ern^itJne [Dream 108 Rag I'iclter of Paris 109 Flying Diiicbiuan 110 HyjioL-rite ■ 111 Tuerese 119 La Tour de Neile VOL.OfV. 113 Maud As It Is 114 Sea of Ice 115 Seven Clerlrs ne ol Life- ]n Forty Thieves, 118 Bryan Boroihine 119 I^omatice and Reality 120 Ugolino VOL, XVI. 1"! The Tempest laSiThe Pilot 12U. Carpenter of Rouen 1 iTCing'i Rival - ■'- 125 Little Treasure liie Dombey and Son rj" Parents and Gnardiani li(j JeivesE J VOL. XVII. lQ9Can)ille l:iO Married Life lai Wenlock of Wenlock ' ia2 Rijse of Etlrickvale ■ 133 David Copperfield 134 Aline, or the Ro^ -f 35 Pauline '^Kiilf aey 136 Jan^ Eyre i VOL XVIIT ISTNirhtai.dM'- ning , 138 ,.he 6audin U3 Ernest Maltravers 144 Bold 'Dragoons A'OL. XIX. USDred, or the Dismal. [Swaiip 146 Last Days of Pomtieii 147 Esmeralda 14ffL'eter WilMna 149 Ben tjre Bottswala IfiO Jonatiian Bradford 151 Retrihution 163 Minemli . VOL. XX. 1 S3 French Spv 164 Wept of Wish-ton Wish 17 Gfuy' MaqnerlDg 18 Sweethaarts and WItci , 19 Serious FwBJly 60 Sue Stoops to Cooqner vol.. xxr. 161 All's KairiuLOF* IM Hofer 168 Self 164 Cinderella 165 Phantom" 166'Frankiin [Moscow 167 The (Junmaker of I«8The Love of a Prince VOL.'XXII'. 169 Son of the Night- 170 RoryO'More 171 tiolden Eagle. 173 Rieui/ ] 73 Broken Sword 174 Rip Van Winkle 175 Isabelle 176 Heart of Mid Lothian VOL. XXMI. 1 77 Actress of Padu» Hk Kloabi ng^BeAcon 179 Bride of jLauiDiermoor lUii Cataract of the Ganges IKI Robber of the Rhine 18;; Schobliof Reform 18:j Wandering Boys 1^4 Mazvppa VOL. XXIV. ISfi Young New York ItteThe VictmiB 187 Ronmtiee afier Marriage 188'Bugand 189 Poor of New York 19i) Ambrose Gwiyett 191 Raymond and Agnes 19S Gamblw'5 Fal« VOi.. XXV. 19.S Father and Son 19^'M.i^sanieJlo 195 Sixtetn String,' Jack 196 Youth lul (^ueen 197 Sktieton Witness 198 Innkeeper of Abbeville' 199 Miller and his Men 200 Aiadditi vol.. XXVI., 201 Adrienne the At^iref ■}i}l Undine •:J03 Je^se Brown ' 204 Asniodeus' ^05 Mormons 206 Blanche o*" arandywino 207 Viola ' 208 Desere Peserted V yL. XXVli. 209 A' .tsrii^ant in. Paris 2"Hi ' ,iqtorine 21 Wizard of the Wave ' 2 Caatje Spectre -Jl3 Horse-shoe Robinson 21 J Armand, Mrs. Mowatt 21.i fnihioiM Mrs.'M6^tt 216 Glance at New York ' VOL. XXVHL !M 7- Inconstant 218 Uncle Tom's Cabin 219 Uiiide to the Stage 290 Veteran' 221 Miller of New Jersey 223 Dajk Hour,hefore.DaW» V23 Midsum'rNight'srireani ^ [L:iura Keene's Edition 224 Art and Artifice , VOL. XXIX. i Poor Young Mfln i^Ossawattomie Brown 2i7 Pope of Rome 228 Oliver Twist 2V9 Pauvrette 230 Man in th'g Iron Mask 231 Knight of Arva > 232 Moll Pitcher VOL. x^xx. 233 Black Eyed Sufiiui -JU Satan in Paris. •■ 235 Roiina Meadows fi 2.36 West End, or Irish Heir- 237 Six Degrees of Grime 238 The Lady and the De 239 Avenger, orMobrofSicl- 240 Masks and Faces [ly 155 EVil Genius 156 Ben Bolt 157 Sailor of Francs 158 Red Mask 1 69 f^ife nf an Actress 160 Wedding. Day {French's Standard Drama Continued on ^d page of Cover.") VOL, XXXL 241 Merry Wives of W'indior 24S Mary's Birthday 243 Shandy M»Euiri 244 Wild OaU 245 Michael Erie 246 Idiot Witness 247 WiUow Copie 248 People's Lawyer VOL. XXXIL 949 Tke Boy Martyrs 2a0 Lucretla Borgia 251 Surgeon oi Paris 252 Falrician?s Daughter ■ 253 Shoeihakerof Toulituse 254 Momentous Queitfan 255 Love and Loyalty 256 Robber's. Wif* VOL. XXXHL 257 Dumb Girl of Genoa 2 8 Wreck Ashore 259 Ciari 260 "Rural Felicity aerwsiiaoe 26iM:adataine 2tJ3 Thi Fireman 264 Grist to the Mill VOL. XXXfV. 265 Two Loves and a Life 266 Annie Blake 267 Steward 268 CapUin Kyd 269 Nii'k (.f the Wood 270 Marble Heart - 271 Second Love 272 Dream at Sc Vol. \xxv. SJ73 Breach o Promise 274 Revie- 275Lari- ofthe'ljike 276 SMil Water Runs Deep 277 ' i(e ."Scholar 27 Helping Kandi '. ;9 Faust and Marguerite 280 Last Mhh VOL. XXXVT. 1M Belle's Stratagem 2fi2 Old and Young . 283 RafTiiella 284 Ruth Oakley 285 British Sir ve 2b& a Life's 'As-moifx 287 Giralda •Time Tries All vol.. XXXVIL 289 Ella Rosenliurg' 29(1 WnrlogkofthuGieit 291 ZeJina 292 Beatrice 2^3 Neigiibor Jackwood 994 Wonder - 295 Robert tlmmeb < 296 Green Bqihes VOL. XXXVUI. 29T Flowers of tht Forest 298 A Bachelor of Arts 299 The Midnight Banquet 300 Husband of »S Hour 301 Love's Labor Loit _ .VS Naiad Queen 303 Caprice 304 Cradle of Liherty VOL. XXXIX 805 The Lost Ship H06 Coilptry Squire 307 t'riud and its Vicltmi :J08 Putnam 309 King and Desertar SIOLaFiammlna 311, A Hard Strujrgle 312'Gwinnette Vaughan , VOL. XL. 338 The Love Knot [Judge 814 Lavater, or Not a Bad 315R0fil(3AL. 27 (Mrs. Pkatt by piano, Mrs. Jackson by body's head — All standing by the sofa.) Mrs. Jackson. Oh, my poor boy ! My poor dear boy ! (rushes to Mm) Violet. Wait a minute. Put him here. Mrs. Jackson. Oh, he's dead! He's dead! I know he's dead. Violet, (immediately) Hush, mother. Some brandy, quick," Baines. And some cold water. I think he's only fainted, (puts cushion under his head and operis shirt at neck) The Eector. Poor fellow. Mrs. Pratt. Oh, Mrs. Jackson. Your sofa ! It will be utterly ruined. Mrs. Jackson, (bending over him) Oh, I wish they'd be quick with the brandy. Henry, go at once for Dr. Glaisher. The Eector. Let me go. We pass his house any- way. And we mustn't stay any longer. We should only be in the way here. Come, my dear. (Enter Baines with brandy and jug of water.) Mrs. Pratt. Good-bye, dear Mrs. Jackson. No. You mustn't stir. And I do hope he'll be all right soon. We'll send Dr. Glaisher round at once. The Eector. Good-bye. (to Henry) Pon't come with me my dear fellow. Baines can find my things. Stay and look after your brother. (Exeunt Me. and Mrs. Pratt and Baines.) (Meantime Mrs.' Jackson has been trying to force some brandy between clenched teeth of the patient.) 28 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. Violet. Your handkerchief, Henry. Quick. (Henry gives it. She dips it in jug, wrings it out and puts it over patient's forehead iy way of bandage.) Mrs. Jackson. He doesn't stir. Mr. Jackson. I can feel his heart beating a little, I think. But I'm not sure. Mrs. Jackson, {lamentably) Oh, will he never come round ! I wish Dr. Glaisher would come. If he were to die ! Violet, {soothing her) Hush, mother! He's only fainted. Didn't you hear father say he could feel his heart beating? Mrs. Jackson. Isn't there anything else we could do? My salts! Violet, {rising) I'll get them, mother. Mrs. Jackson. They're on my dressing table. {Exit Violet hurriedly.) No, I remember, I had them in the library this morn- ing. I'll go and look. Or was it the breakfast room ? I'm not sure. Oh dear, oh dear, poor darling Eustace ! {Exit in hurst of tears.) Mr. Jackson. She'll never find them. You go, Henry, and help her. Try the breakfast room. {Exeunt all save Mr. Jackson and Eustace.) {After Mr. Jackson has fidgetted round his son for a minute or so in helpless and grotesque efforts to restore his son to consciousness Violet's voice is heard through door which is left open.) tHE RETURN OP THE3 PRODIGAL. 29 Violet, {toiihout) Father ! Mb. Jackson, {going to door, hurriedly) Yes, yes, what is it? (Enter Violet.) Violet. Have you your keys ? Mother thinks she may have left her salts on your desk in the library and its locked. Me. Jackson. Tek! tLete they are. (Violet gi^ng) I'd better come or you'll disturb all my papers. {Exeunt Mr. Jackson and Violet.) {The stage is left empty for a moment of all save the man on the sofa. Presently Eustace raises him- self cautiously, looks round, then finding no one there takes off head handage and wrings it out, listens again, then sits up and puts feet to ground, picks up a book, on which he has been lying with conspicuous red cover, glances at it, reads title " Hester's Escape," makes face, hears sound ibithout, hurriedly puts feet up again on couch, re- places bandage and lays his head back on pillow just as Mrs. Jackson re-enters with Henry.) Mrs. Jackson, {piteously) They're not in the library. Where can I have put them? Henry. The others will find them. Violet is looking in your bed-room. She always finds things. And the Governor is in the breakfast room. They'll be here in a moment. {Enter Violet with salts in her hand, followed at a short interval by Mr. Jackson.) 30 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAli. Mrs. Jackson. Thanks dear, (holds the salts tremulously to patient's nose, but forgetting to take out stopper, kneeling by his side) Where were they ? (kneels by sofa) Violet. In the dining room, on the writing table. Mrs. Jackson. Oh, yes, I remember. I had them there at lunch time. I knew I had put them some- where. Henry, (irritably) My dear mother, there's no use holding those salts to his nose unless you take the stopper out. (Mrs. Jackson fumbles with stopper. Patient stirs slightly and turns away his head.) Mr. Jackson. He's coming round. He moved a little. Try him with some more brandy. (Mrs. Jackson puts down salts and takes up brandy which she pours into patient's mouth. He makes elaborate business of coming round, gives a sigh, opens his eyes, then raises himself and looks round.) Eustace. Is that you, mother? Mrs. Jackson. Yes, dear, yes. Eustace. Where am I? Mrs. Jackson. At home, dear. Your own home. Oh, he's not dead! He's not dead! (embraces him sobbing passionately) Cubtaik. THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 31 ACT II. Scene: — The hredkfast room at the Jacksons'. In the middle of stage the breahfast table which is round and would hold about six people. It is fully laid with cloth, tea and coffee things, toast, dishes, etc. The fireplace (no fire) is on the rigjit and above and below it are leather-covered armchairs. There is a large French window at bach through which is seen garden. The windows are open as it is a bright summer day. There is a door b. up to hall. On the left is a sideboard on which stand fruit, some spare plates, etc., also a box of cigars and a box of cigarettes. On either side of the window are bookcases. Down l., below sideboard,. a writing table. When the curtain rises Mr. Jack- son sits E. of table. Henry on left, Violet on the side furthest from footlights. She has the coffee, etc., in front of her. Mk. Jackson is faced by bacon dishes. They all go on eating their break- fasts for half a minute after curtain has risen. Henry is reading a newspaper propped up by his side. Violet is reading letters. Henry, (handing cup) More coffee, please, Vio- let, {to Mr. Jackson) Wenhams have failed, father. 32 THE RETutlN OF THE PRODIGAL. Mr. Jackson. It's only what we expected, isn't it? Henry. Yes. Forty thousand they say here. But of course it's only a guess. No one can know till the accounts are made up. Mr. Jackson. They've been shaky for some time. {Enter Mrs. Jackson.) Well, how is he ? Mrs. Jackson. Much better. He looks quite a different person. Mr. Jackson. Did he eat any breakfast? Mrs. Jackson. He hasn't had any yet. At least only a cup of tea. He says he'd rather come down. He's getting up now. Violet. Didn't Dr. Glaisher say he was to stay in bed? Mrs. Jackson. Yes. But if he wants to come down I don't think it can do any harm. He can lie down on the sofa till lunch if he feels tired. Mr. Jackson. What time is Glaisher coming? Violet. Half-past ten, he said. Henry. Has Eustace explained how he came to be lying in the drive in that state? Last night we could get nothing out of him. Mrs. Jackson. No wonder. He was dazed, poor boy. He had walked all the way from London and had had nothing to eat. Henry. How was it he was in London. He was sent to Australia. Mrs. Jackson. He had been in Australia. He worked his passage home. THE RETURN DP THE PRODIGAL. 33 Me. Jackson. His money is all gone, I suppose — the thousand pounds I gave him? Mrs. Jackson. I don't know, Samuel. I didn't ask. Me. Jackson. Humph! {pause) I'll trouble you for the toast please. Henry. Heney. I suppose we'd better make enquiries about Wenhams' father. It might be worth our while to buy the mill if it goes cheap. Then we could run. it and ours together. Me. Jackson. Just so. Will you see to that ? (Henkt nods.) Mes. Jackson. I've got a letter to Aunt Isabel to send by the early post. I ought to have written it last night. Will you put it into the box for me, Samuel, as you go to the mill? {goes l. to writ- ingtable and sits.) Mb. Jackson. Certainly, my dear. Henry. Very tiresome Eustace turning up in that disreputable condition last night. What will Stella think? Me. Jackson. It's lucky the Faringfords had gone before he was brought in. Henry. The Pratts hadn't. Mrs. Pratt will have told the entire village before lunch time. Violet. I don't see why we should mind if she does. There's nothing to be ashamed of. {rises and reads letter hy fireplace) Henry, {impatiently) Well, we won't discuss it. {returns to his paper) Mrs. Jackson, {moving nearer Heney to get 34 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. paper) By the way, Henry, did you say anything to Stella last night? Henet (hesUates) No. Mk. Jackson. I thought you were going to? Heney, I was. In fact I did begin. But she didn't let me finish. I suppose she didn't under- stand what I was going to say. Mr. Jackson. Don't put it off too long. There may be an election any day now and the Faringfoid influence means a great deal. Henet. You've got Faringford's influence al- ready. He's chairman of your committee. Mr. Jackson. That's true. Still, he'll take more trouble when I'm one of the family so to speak. Yes, I shouldn't put it off if I were you, HfiiiEY. Very well, father. Mr, Jackson. Of course Faringford is as poor as Job. The estate's mortgaged up to the hilt. And anything there is after he and Lady Faringford go out of the coach — if there is anything— will go to the son. Stella won't have a sixpence. Still they're good people, position in the county and all that. And yoi/ll have enough money for both. Henry. Yes. Especially if we get hold of Wen- hams' mill. I'm sure I could make a gaod thing out of it. We'd put in turbines as we did here, get new machinery and double our output. Mr. Jackson. How are the turbines working by the way? Henry. All right. And they'll go still better when the new sluices are done, {rising) Well, I shall go over to the mill now. Are you coming? THE RETURN OP THE PEOdIGAL. 35 Me. Jackson. In ^ moment, (finishes his coffee and rises) (Exit Henry k.) Violet. Shall I get your hat and stick, father? Mr. Jackson. Do, dear. (Exit Violet b.)' Is your letter ready, Maria ? Mrs. Jackson. Just done, (fastens it up, ris' ing) You won't fojget it, wiU you? (Re-rentev Henry with hat R.) Me. Jackson, No. Oi; if I do Henry will re- mind me. Mrs. Jacksqn. (to Henry) Won't you wait and see Eustace before you go, Henry? He'll be down in a moment. Hbnry. It doesn't ma,tter. I shall see him soon enough. Coming father? (Exit c.) Mrs. Jackson. I think Henry might have stayed to see Eustace before he started., Mr, Jackson. I dare say he'll be over in the course of the morning. (Violet re-entering.) Violet. Here's your hat and stick, father. Mr. Jackson. That's a good girl. (Msges her) Good-bye. I shall be in for lunch. 36 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. {Exit C.) Mrs. Jackson, (going to lacon dish and lifting cover) We must order some more bacon. Or do you think Eustace had better have an egg? Violet. Shall I go up and ask him? Mrs. Jackson. Do dear. And I wonder if you'd see cook at the same time and ask her if she's want- ing anything. I have to go into the village. Violet. Very well, mother. {Exit Violet e. Mrs. Jackson takes away plates to sideboard, clears a place for Eustace where Henry sat and lays for him) Baines. {announcing) ^r.^laisher. {Enter De. Glaisher r.)' Mrs. Jackson, {shaking hands) Oh, doctor. Good morning, {to Baines) Tell Mr. Eustace Dr. Glaisher is here. {Exit Baines.) Dr. Glaisher. {brisk and professional) Well, how does he seem ? Going on well ? Mrs. Jackson. Quite well, I think. Dr. Glaisher. Did he have a good night? Mr;s. Jackson. Excellent he says. Dr. Glaisher. Ah. Just so. Shall I go up to him? Mrs. Jackson. He's coming down for break- fast. He'll be here in a moment. Dr. Glaisher. Coming down is he? {by fire- place) Come, that looks satisfactory. Still we must be careful. No overfatigue. His condition last THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 37 night gave cause for considerable anxiety. Indeed I may say that if I had not fortunately been sent for at once and applied the necessary remedies there was distinct danger of collapse, um! distinct danger. Mrs. Jackson. Oh, Doctor ! (Enter Eustace e. very fresh and genial in an ad- mirdble suit of clothes.) Dr. Glaishee. Ah, here he is. Eustace. Good morning, mother, (hisses her) Hullo, doctor. Come to see me? Dr. Glaishee. (shaking hands) Well, and how are we this morning? Eustace. Getting on all ,right, I think. A bit limp and washed out perhaps. Dr. Glaisher. Just so. The temperature nor- mal? No fever? (touches forehead) That's right. Pulse, (feels it) A little irregular, perhaps. But nothing serious. Excitement due to overfatigue no doubt. Now, let me see your tongue, (does so) Just so. As I should have expected. Just as I should have expected, dear Mrs. Jackson. Appetite not very good, I suppose ? Eustace. Er — not very. Dk. Glaishee. Just so. Just so. (nods sagaci- ously) Eustace, (gaily) Not dead yet, eh doctor? (sits on arm of chair) Mrs. Jackson. My dear! Dr. Glaisher. (with heavy geniality) We shall pull you through. Oh, we shall pull you through. But you must take care of yourself for a few days. 38 THE RBTUKN OF THE PRODIGAL. No excitement! No overfatigue. The system wants tone a little, wants tone. Eustace. I see. I'm to take it easy in fact for a bit, eh? Dr. Glaishee. Just so. Eustace. I won't forget. I say what clever beg- gars you doctors are! You feel a fellow's pulse and look at his tongue and you know ali about him at once. Don't you ? Dr. Glaisher. (pl^imd) Not all pefhaps. But thefe are indications, symptoms, which the pro- fessional man can interpret. . . . Eustace, (interraptmg) Quite extraordinary. I say, what do you think of these clothes? Not bad are they. They're Hpnry's. But / chose them — out of his drawers. Poor old Henry ! Mrs. Jackson. How naughty of you, Eustace. I'm sure Henry won't like it. Eustace. Of course he won't, mother dear. No- body does like his clothes being worn by someone else. But I must wear something you know. I can't come down to breakfast in a suit of pyjamas. Besides they're Henry's pyjamas. Mrs. Jackson. But I told Thomas specially to put out an old suit of yout father's for you. Didn't he do it? Eustace. Yes. But I can't wear the governor's clothes, you know. We haven't the same figure. I say I'd better ring for breakfast, {does so) Mrs. Jackson. Have you ordered it dear? I sent Vi up to ask whether you'd like bacon or eggs. Eustace. Yes. Violet asked me, I said bacoa and eggs. THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 3S {Enter Violet e.) Hullo, Vi, you're just in time to pour out my coffee. Dr. Glaishee. (shakes hands with Violet) Well, I must be off to my other patients, (to Mes. Jackson) Good-bye, Mrs. Jackson. He is going on well, quite as well as can be expected that is. There are no fresh symptoms of an unfavorable character. But you must keep him quiet for a few days. There are signs of nervousness about him, a sort of sup- pressed excitement which I don't like. The system wants tone, decidedly wants tone. I'll send him up a mixture to take. He has evidently been through some strain lately, I knew that directly I saw him last night. You can't deceive a doctor! (Man brings in breakfast — rack of toast on table, coffee and rolls on sideboard, clears table of dirty plates, etc., so as to leave only a manageable quan- tity of " business " for Baines when latter has to clear the table later. This is important so that Baines's scene may not have to be played too slowly.) Mrs. Jackson, (anxiously) But you don't think there's anything serious the matter ? Dr. Glaishee. No! no! Let us hope not. The general constitution is sound enough, not over strong perhaps, but sound. And with youth on his side. Let me see how old is he? Mes. Jackson. Nine and twenty. Dr. Glaishee. Just so. Just so. Well, good morning, (to Eustace.) Good morning. And re- 40 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. member quiet, perfectly quiet. I'll look in again to- morrow morning and see how he's getting on. Eustace. (nods) Good-bye! {goes towards breakfast table.) (Dr. Glaisher shakes hands with Violet and goes out R. Violet seats herself at table to pour out Eustace's coffee. Mrs. Jackson sits by Eustace.) Mother, I think I must become a doctor. It's the only profession I know of which seems to require no knowledge whatever, and it's the sort of thing I should do rather well, (begins his breakfast) (Exit Footman.) Mrs. Jackson. I dare say, my dear. You must speak to your father about it. . . . (sitting) And now you must tell us all about yourself. What have you been doing all this time? And why have you never written ? Eustace. There was nothing to tell you — ^that you'd have liked to hear. Mrs. Jackson. My dear, of course we should have liked to hear everything about you. Eustace. I doubt it. No news is good news. I bet the governor thought that — and Henry. Mrs. Jackson. No, no, dear. I assure you your father was quite anxious when we never heard — ^at first. Eustace. Ah well, if the governor was so anx- ious to know how I was he shouldn't have packed me THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 41 off to Australia. I never could endure writing let- ters. Violet. Still you might have sent us word. It would have been kinder to mother. {Down to fire and sits front of table.) Eustace, {laying his hand on his mother's as it lies on the arm of her chair.) Poor mother. I sup- pose I was a brute. But I've not been very prosper- ous these five years, and as I'd nothing pleasant to say I thought I wouldn't write. Mks. Jackson. But what became of your money dear? The thousand pounds your father gave you? Eustace. I lost it. Mrs. Jackson. Lost it? Eustace. Part of it went in a sheep farm. I suppose I was a bad farmer. Anyhow the sheep died. The other part I put in a gold mine. I sup- pose I wasn't much of a miner. Anyhow there was no gold in it. I was in the Mounted Police for a time. That was in Natali It wasn't bad but it didn't lead to anything. So I cleared out. I've been in a bank in Hong Kong. I've driven a cable car in San Francisco, I've been a steward on a liner, I've been an actor, and I've been a journalist. I've tried my hand at most things in fact. At one time I played in an orchestra. Mrs. Jackson. You were always so fond of music. Eustace, {drily) Yes, I played the triangle — and took a whack at the big drum between times. Violet. How absurd you are! Eustace. Finally, I came home. That was when 42 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. my experience as a steward came in. I worked my passage as one — if you can call it work ! I was sick all the time. Mrs. Jackson. How dreadful! Eustace. It was — for the passengers. Violet. How long ago was that? Eustace. Only about a month. Since then I've been in London picking up a living one way or an- other. At last, when I found myself at the end of my teijier, I started to walk here. And here I am. Mrs. Jackson. My dear boy! You must have found it terribly muddy ! Eustace. I did. But life always is rather muddy, isn't it? At least that's my experience. Mrs. Jackson. But weren't you very tired ? Eustace. I was tired, of course. Give me some more coffee, Vi. {She does so.) Well, how have you all been at home? How's the governor ? Mrs. Jackson. He's been very well on the whole. His lumbago was rather troublesome at the end of last year. Otherwise he's been all right. Eustace. Does he stick to business as close as ever? Mrs. Jackson. Not quite. You see Henry's a partner now. The firm is Jackson, Hartopp and Jackson, and he takes a good deal of work off your father's shoulders. Henry is an excellent man of business. (Eustace nods.) Your father gives more of his time to public affairs THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 43 now. He's a magistrate and been on the County Council for tlie last three years. And now he's standing for Parliament. Eustace. The family's looking up in the world. The business is flourishing, then ? Mrs. Jackson. Oh, yes. They've put in all new machinery in the last three years. And they've got turbines instead of the old water wheels. That was Henry's idea. And now they can turn out a cheaper cloth than any of the mills round here. Eustace. Cheaper? The Governor used to de- spise cheap cloth. Mrs. Jackson. Yes, but Henry said it was no use making cloth that would last a lifetime if people only wanted it to last twelve months. So he got over new machines — from America. And now they don't make any good cloth at all and your father has trebled his income. Eustace. Bravo, Henry. Mrs. Jackson, (rises) And now I really must go down to the village and do my shopping. Have' you got cook's list, Vi? (To side table for cigarettes then nearer to bell.) Violet. Yes, mother. But I'm coming, too. I promised Mrs. Pratt I'd call at the Vicarage before twelve to arrange about the next Mothers' Meeting. Mrs. Jackson, (to Eustace.) You'll find the paper there dear, and some cigarettes unless you think you oughtn't to smoke. I'll ring for them to clear away. And remember, dear, Dr. Glaisher said you were to keep quite quiet, (hisses him.) 44 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. Eustace. All right, mother. I'll remember. (still at table.) (Mrs. Jackson and Violet go out. Eustace shuts the door, comes slowly down stage, The smile dies out of his face and he gives a percepti- tle yawn. Then he goes K. chooses cigarette, lights it in leisurely fashion. Takes up paper. Comes to L. Selects chair above fireplace, sits down and begins to read.) (Enter Baines.) You can clear away, Baines. Baines. Thank you, sir. (pause, clearing away) I hope you're feeling better this morning, sir ? (goes on clearing table throughout this scene.) Eustace. Thanks Baines, the doctor thinks I'm getting on all right. Baines. Narrow escape you had last night, sir. Thomas says the carriage wheels must have gone within a foot of your head. Eustace. Thomas is a — I mean does he say that ? Baines. Curious thing we shouldn't have seen you, sir. We must have been that close. But it was a very dark night except when the moon was out. Then it was as bright as day almost. That was how he came to see you, sir. Eustace. Oh that was it, was it? Baines. Yes, sir. You see Thomas had just shut the gate after the carriage drove away and the moon happened to come out. . . THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 45 Eustace, (bored) Quite so. Whose carriage was it by the way? Baines. Sir John Faringford's, sir. Eustace. Well if one's head is to be driven over it may as well be by a member of the aristocracy eh, Baines ! Baines. Certainly, sir. Eustace. Sir John often dine here now-a-days? Baines. Yes, sir. And Lady Faringford, and Miss Stella. Eustace. Miss Stella? Baines. Their daughter, sir. I dare say you wouldn't remember her. Only came out about a year ago. (pause.) Eustace. So my father is standing for Parlia- ment, is he ? Baines. Yes, sir. Eustace. Will he get in ? Baines. It's thought so, sir. Eustace. By the way which side is he on? Baines. (puzzled) I beg pardon, sir? Eustace. Which side ? Liberal or Conservative ? Baines. Conservative of course, sir. All the people round here are Conservative. All the gentry, that is. Eustace. More respectable, eh Baines ? Baines. Yes, sir. (Baines who has tray in his hand, hears hell, has a moment of indecision then puts tray down on table.) Excuse me, sir. (Exit.) 46 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. (Eustace goes hack to his paper. A moment later Baines returns and looks about on writing table.) Eustace. What is it, Baines ? Do you want any- thing. Baines. If you please, sir, Miss Paringford has called for a book Miss Violet promised to lend her. (continues to search.) Eustace, (after pause) Have you found it? Baines. No, sir. Eustace, (putting down paper on other arm- chair, bored and rising) I'd better see her. (Goes out B. Baines folds tablecloth and puts it away in sideboard drawer.. Is just about to go out carrying tray when Enter Stella followed by Eustace e. Draws hack to let them pass as they enter.) Come in, Miss Faringford. Perhaps I can find the book for you. What was it like? (Enter Stella.) Stella. It was just an ordinary looking novel. With a bright red cover. Called " Hester's Escape." (Over by writing table.) Eustace. " Hester's Escape." I seem to remem- ber the name, (turns round, and faces her for the first time. Pause. Is obviously struck by the fact that she is a very pretty girl.) But Vi will know THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 47 where it is. You'd better wait till she comes in. Sit down. She'll be back directly. Stella, (sitting in artnckair by the fireplace.) Are you sure? Eustace. Quite! (turns round chair at break- fast table in front of fireplace and sits in it.) (Exit BaineS.) You won't mind an untidy room, will you? I'm afraid I breakfasted late. Stella. 'I wonder you are down at all. EtJSTACE. (sits) Oh, I'm all right. Stella. Are you sure you ought to talk ? People who have been ill ought to be quiet, oughtn't they? Eustace. There's really nothing the matter with, me. Stella. That's not what Mrs. Pratt told me. I iftet her in the village as I was coming here. Eustace. Ah, yes. She was present of course when I made my dramatic entry. Did she tell you about it? I hope it went ofE well. Stella. You frightened everyone terribly if that's what you mean. Mrs. Pratt says you looked dreadful. She thought you were going to die. Eustace. Quite a thrilling experience for her. She ought to be very much obliged to me. Stella. How can you joke about it ! You might really have died, you know. But when people have travelled all over the world as you have, and endured hardship and danger, I suppose death doesn't seem so terrible to them as it does to us who stay at home. Eustace. I suppose not. They get used to it. 48 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. Stella. Have you often been in great danger, really great I mean? Eustace. I was at Singapore when the Plague was there. Stella. How awful. Eustace. Yes. It wasn't pleasant. Stella. I can't think how anyone can stay in England when he might go out and see the world. If I were a man I would go abroad and visit strange countries and have wonderful adventures as you have done, not waste my life in a dull little village like Chedleigh. Eustace. My dear' Miss Faringford, the whole world' is a dull little village like Chedleigh, and I've wasted my life in it. {Enter Baines.) Baines. If you please, sir, the Eector has called to ask how you are.' Eustace. Oh, bother. Say I'm very much obliged and I'm all right. Baines. He said he would like to see you if you felt well enough, sir. Eustace. Ah ! wait a minute, {thinks) Will you say I'm not well at all and quite unfit to see him this morning. Baines. Very well, sir. {Exit E.) Stella, {rising) And now I must go. I'm only tiring you. I expect you oughtn't to talk. THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 49 Eustace. But I assure you Stella. And as you're quite unfit to see visi- tors — Eustace. I'm quite unfit to see the Kector. That's quite a different thing. I'm perfectly up to seeing you. Besides Violet should be here directly, now. Sit down again. Stella, (hesitating) I don't think I ought to' stay. Eustace. I'm sure you ought. One should visit the sick you know. Stella, (with a laugh) You don't seem quite able to make up your mind whether you are ill or well. Eustace. 'No. I vary. I find it more conven- ient. (^nter Baines r.) (irritably) Well, what is it now, Baines? Baines. Lady Faringford. (Enter Lady Faringfoed r. Eustace rises.) Stella, (rising) Mamma ! Lady Faringfoed. (ignoring her) Mr. Eustace Jackson, is it not ? How do you do ? (shakes hands frigidly) I heard in the village of your sudden re- turn and stopped the carriage to ask how you were. As the servant told me you were downstairs I thought I would come in for a moment. Eustace. Very kind of you, Lady Faringford. Lady Faringford. (severely) You hardly ap- pear as ill as I expected. 50 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. Eustace. I hope the disappointment is an agree- able one ? Lady Fakingfobd. No disappointments are agreeable, sir. And pray what are you doing here, Stella? Eustace. Miss Faringford called for a book my sister lent her last night, "Hester's Escape." I persuaded her to come in and sit down till Violet re- turned. Lady Faringford. You are expecting her soon ? Eustace. Every moment. Lady Faringford. Ah. Then I don't think we can wait. Eustace. But, Miss Faringford's book. She mustn't go away without it. Sit down for a mo- ment while I see if I can find it. (to Stella) A bright red cover I think you said, {looks round the room for it.) Lady Faringford. (icily) Pray don't trouble, Mr. Jackson. Eustace. "Hester's Escape?" I'm sure I'^e seen it somewhere, {fhinks a moment) I know. It was in the drawing room, last night. Excuse me for a moment. I'll go and get it. (Exit E.) Lady Faringford. (sitting ehten, sternly) Really Stella, I'm surprised at you. Stella. What is it. Mamma? Lady Faringford. You know , perfectly well. How long have you been here? Stella. {sulkily} I don't know. .... About ten minutes, perhaps. THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 51 Ladt Fabinqfoed. Do you make a faaWt of pay- ing morning calls upon young men without a chap- eron ? Stelila. No, mamma. LaeT Faringfobd. Then I hope you will not begia to do so. Stella. I came to "call for a beok whi«h Vi promised to lend me. Vi was out and Mr. Jaekson very kindly asked me to come in and wait. What harm is there in that? Lady Faeingfoed. There is every harm. Un- derstand, please, that Mr. Eustace Jackson is not a suitable acquaintance for you. Stella. He is Henry's brother. You have no objection to my knowing Henry. Lady Faeingfoed. That is quite different. Henry has a large income and CKcellent prospects. He is a man whom any young girl may be allowed to know. Eustace is a mere ne'er-do-well. Stella. Am I never to speak to anyone who isn't rich ? The Du Cranes aren't rich or the Vere- Anstruthers. Yet we know them. We aren't rich ourselves if it comes to that. L/ADY Paeingfoed. That has nothing to do with it. The Du Cranes and poor George Anstruther are gentlepeople. The Jacksons are tradesmen. Stella. I think people make far too much fuss about being " gentlepeople." Lady Faeiwoford, Then I hope you won't say so. I don't like this pernicious modern jargon about shxjpkeepers and gentlefolk being much the same. There's far too much truth in it to be agreeable. Stella, If it's true why shouldn't we say it? 52 THE RETXTRN OP THE PRODIGAL. Lady Faringford. Because we have everything to lose by doing so. We were born into this world with what is -called position. Owing to that posi- tion we are received everywhere, flattered, made nrnch of. Though we are poor, rich people, are eager to invite ns to their houses and marry our daughters. So much the better for us. But if we began telling people that position was all moon- shine, family an antiquated superstition and many duchesses far less like ladies than their maids, the world would ultimately discover that what we were saying was perfectly true. Whereupon we should lose the very comfortable niche in the Social system which we at present enjoy and — who knows? — might actually be reduced in the end to doing some- thing useful for our living like other people. No, No, my dear, rank and birth and the peerage may be all nonsense, but it isn't our business to say so. Leave that to vulgar people who have something to gain by it. Noblesse oblige! (Enter Eustace b. with the book in his hand.) Eustace. Here is the book. Miss Faringford. I hope you haven't had to wait too long. It was in the drawing room as I thought, but it had got put away under some papers. Stella. Thank you so much. Lady Faringford. (rising, icily) Good-bye, Mr. Jackson. Stella. Good-bye. Give my love to Violet. (shakes hands.) THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. E3 {Exeunt Lady Fakingfoed and Stella escorted by Eustace e. After a moment Enter Henry by window c. He has some papers with him which he has brought from the mill. He tahes off hat, puts papers on table up, is about to write letter when re-enter Eustace.) Eustace, (after moment strolls across l. to Heney.) Hullo, Henry. Where did you spring from? {They shake hands.) Henry. From the mill. I came across the lawn. We had a short cut made through the shrubbery and a gate putthree years ago. It's quicker. • Eustace. One of your improvements, eh? Henry. Yes. (Eustace laughs.) You're amused? Eustace. It's so like you having a path made so as to get to your work quicker. Henry. Yes. I'm not an idler. Eustace. Quite so. And / am, you mean? (Eustace sits.) Henry, (shrugs) I didn't say so. Eustace. You wanted to spare my feelings, no doubt. Very thoughtful of you, (a pause.) Henry. Is your mother in? Eustace. I believe not. . . By the way I've 64 THB RETURN CfF THE PRODIGAL. been borrowiflig some of youj; clothes. Not a bad fit are they ? It's lucky we're so muck the same size. Henry, {grimhf.) Vei^ ! Eustace, It's parti-eularly lucky as I've been entertaining Yisitors on beh*lf of the family. Henry. Indeed ? Eustace. Yes. One of them a very charming visitor. Henry. Who was that ? Eustace. Miss Faringford. Henry. Stella ? Eustace. Yes. Very nice girl altogether. She was here quite a long time while I t^d her my ad- ventures — or as much of- them as I thoiajht suitable. Then unhappily heu mother turned up^ Rathei; an awful woman t^at^ Henry. What did Stella come for2- Eustace. Not to enquire after me if that's what you mean. Miss Paf iugfordi came for a book Vi had lent her, " Hester's Escape." She's certainly a very pretty girl. And a nice one. Henry, (stify) 1 may as well tell you I in- tend to marry Stella Faringford. Eustace. Indeed, (pause} Have you asfced her yet? Henry. No. Eustace. Then I wonldix't be too sure if I were you. Perhaps she won't have you. Henry, (rising, after silence)/ Oh> by the way, how. are you ? Eustace. I'm all righst thanfce, Henry, (irritably) How on earth dii yea- come to be lying in the drive in that way last night? THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. SS Eustace, (airily) Exhaustion, my dear chap. Cold and exposure! Hunger. You know the kind of thing. Henet. Cold? Why it's the height of summer. Eustace. Heat> then. Henet. But how did you manage to get here. That's what / want to know. You were supposed to be in Australia. Eustace, (beginning to laugh) I'll tell you. (sits on table) Only you must promise not to give me away. (Henet turns.) I was awfully hard up' and- awfully sick of finding jobs and losing them and at last I began to long for a proper dinner, properly served, and a- decent suit of clothes. Like these. I thought of writing to' the governor. But that would have been no good. He'd have sent me some good advice and the mater would have sent a fiver and in a fortnight things would have been as bad as ever. At last I thought of a dramatic coup. The Prodigal's Eeturn! The Fatted Calf. A father softened, a mother in tears. The virtuous elder brother scowling in the back- ground. So I came here. Back to the Old Home you know. At the front door I selected a convenient spot and lay down in an elaborate faint. Excuse the pun. I chose the moment JTist after the Paring- fol?ds' carriage had gone. I knew the footman would have to come in after shutting the gate and I in- tended to kick his leg and groan in an impressive manner. Anything to attract attention. Fortu- nately the moon came out just at the right moment 5(S THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. so the fool couldn't help spotting me. He called Baines who recognised me in a moment. They were very sympathetic! I expect they thought I was drunk. The lower classes are always sympathetic to intoxication. I was borne into the drawing room. The wandering sheep returned to the fold, the exile home again. Tableau ! most pathetic ! Henry, (disgvsted) And so you walked all the way from London to Chedleigh in order to play off a heartless practical joke. Eustace. Walked ? Nonsense. I came by train. (walJcs across followed by Henet.) Henet. But you told Vi you walked. Eustace. I said I started to walk. I only got as far as the station. Henet. (angrily) It was unpardonable. The mater was awfully upset. So was the Governor. Eustace. That was the idea. There's nothing like a sudden shock to bring out anyone's real feel- ings. The Governor had no idea how fond he was of me until he saw me apparently dead and unlikely to give him further trouble. And by the time I came round he'd forgotten the cause of his sudden af- fection — or perhaps he's never realised it — and was genuinely glad to see me. Psychologically it was most interesting. (Eustace goes up to window.) Henet. It was extremely undignified and quite unnecessary. If you had simply come up to the front door and rung the bell you would have been received just as readily. Eustace. I doubt it. THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 5? (Henry moves to l.) In fact, I doubt if I should have been received at all. I might possibly have been given a bed for the night, but only on the distinct understanding that I left early the next morning. Whereas now nobody talks of my going. A poor invalid. In the doctor's hands ! Perfect quiet essential ! No. My plan was best. (Henry moves up to Eustace and past him down to fire.) Henry. Why didn't that fool Glaisher see ■through you? Eustace. Doctors never see through their pa- tients. It's not what they're paid for and it's con- trary to professional etiquette. (Henry makes exclamation of disgust). Besides Glaisher's an ass, I'm glad to say. Henry, (fuming) It would serve you right if I told the Governor the whole story. Eustace. I daresay. But you won't, (tahes out chair) It wouldn't be cricket. Besides I only told you on condition you kept it to yourself, (sits). Henry, (exasperated) So I'm' to be made a part- ner in your fraud. The thing's a swindlo and I've got to take a share in it. Eustace. Swindle? Not a bit. (sits) You've lent a hand, without intending it, to reuniting a happy family circle. Smoothed the way for the Prodigal's return. A very beautiful trait in your character. 68 THE BETURN OP THE PHOBIGAL. Henry, {griimpy) What I don't understand is why you told me all this. Why in Heaven's name didn't jou keep the whole discreditable story to your- self? Eustace. The fact is I was pretty sure you'd find me out. The Grovemor's a perfect owl but you've got brains — of a kind. You can see a thing when it's straight before your nose. So I thought I'd let you into the secret from the start, just to keep your mouth shut. Henry, (exclamation of impatience) And what are you going to do now you are at home ? Eustace. Do, my dfear chap ? Why nothing. CURTAIN, ol i THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 59 ACT III. Scene — The Lawn at Ohedleigh Court. Ten days have passed since Act II. It is a Saturday and the time is after luncheon. The House itself, with its French windows on to the lawn, is on the right of stage. The back represents the garden with paddoch beyond bounded by stream on which stands the mill, a picturesque old Tudor structure of grey stone. The garden is also supposed to stretch away L. into the wings and there is a path up L. leading off to Mill. The other entrance is through the French windows R. from house. When the curtain rises Eustace is discovered in new grey flannel suit in a hammock towards the l. swinging indolently. There is a wicker table about c. and three or four wicker garden chairs with bright red cushions. In one of these Henkt is seated, reading a newspaper. Eustace has cup of coffee in his hand. Henry has one on table beside him. Presently Eustace drinks some, looking with indolent amusement at his brother absorbed in his newspaper. Eustace. Not bad coffee, this, (finishes it and be- gins to perform acrobatic feat of putting cup and saucer on ground without breaking them). Henry, (looking up) I daresay, (takes some) You'll drop that cup. 60 THE RETURN OP THE F^ODIGi^. Eustace. I think not. (puts it successfully on ground) . Henry. If you leave it there someone's sure to put his foot in it. Eustace. I'll risk it. Henkt. Bah! {rises and puts Eustace's cup on table) Eustace. Thanks, old man. Perhaps it is safer there. (Henbt grunts again and returns to his newspaper. Eustace gets cigarette out of pocket and lights it indolently.) Anything exciting in the paper? Any conyulsions in Wool? Henkt. No. Eustace. Where's the Governor? He generally comes home to luncheon on Saturdays, doesn't he ? Henet. He's lunching at the Wilmingtone' with the mater. He'll he back soon. There's a meeting of his Election Committee at four. Eustace. Where ? Henkt. Here. Eustace. Will he get in ? Heney, Paringford thinks go. But it'll be a close thing. A very little might turn the scale either way. Eustace. Cost him a good deal I suppose? Henet. Pretty well, Eustace. Panem et Circenses, bread and cir- cuses. That's the Tory prescription, ian't it? Par- ticularly circuses. Henkt. I dare say. THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 61 Servant, {ushering Dr. Glaisher from French windows R.) Dr. Glaisher to see you, sir. {removes cups and exit R.) Eustace. How do you do. Doctor, {shaking hands) I'm following your prescription you see. Rest ! Rest ! There's nothing like it. Dr. Glaisher. Just so. I really came for your father's committee. I thought it was to be at three o'clock. But your man tells me it's not till four. So I thought I'd like to look at my patient. Well, and how are we to-day? (HenH* watches this scene with mingled rage and disgust to Eustace's huge delight.) Eustace. Going on all right thanks. Still a little limp perhaps. Dr. Glaisher. Just so. The temperature nor- mal? No fever? That's right. {Feels pulse) Pulse? {pause) Quite regular. Now the tongue. Just so. {to Henry) As I should have expected. Just as I should have expected. Appetite still good ? Eustace. Excellent, thanks. Dr. Glaisher. You're still taking your glass of port at eleven? Just so, oh you'll soon be all right. - Eustace. Thanks to yov, Doctor. Dr. GlaishSr. Not at all. Not at aU. (To Henry) He'll soon be himself again now. Sys- tem still wants tone a little, wants tone. I'U send him round some more of that mixture. Otherwise he's all right. (HiNBY grunts). Eustace. And you'll look in again in a day or 62 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. two (Henry rises and goes up) just to see how I am, won't you, Doctor ? Dk. Gtlaishek. Certainly, if you wish it. And now I must be off. I have a couple of patients near here whom I could see in the next half hour and be back again by four. Good-bye. Good-bye. Don't disturb yourself pray. (Fusses off e.) Henry, (savagely) Ass ! Eustace. My dear chap ! Henry. Old Glaisher is a perfect noodle, (down stage r.) Eustace. Naturally. How much does a little country doctor make here-abouts? Four hundred a year? Say four hundred and fifty. You can't ex- pect a first-rate intellect for that. 'Tisn't the market rate. Henry. I don't expect an absolute idiot. Eustace. Glaisher doesn't know anything of course, but his manner is magnificently impressive. After he's talked to me for five minutes, felt my pulse and looked at my tongue I almost begin to won- der whether I'm not really ill after all. That's a great gift for a doctor! Henry. You're perfectly well. Any fool can see that merely by looking at you. And old Glaisher goes on with his mixture and his glass of port at .eleven. Bah ! (Eustace laughs.) And you encourge him. How many visits has he paid you? Eustace. I don't know. Seven or eight. Heney. And every one of them completely un- necessary. THE RETURN 6i' THE PRODIGAL. 63 Eustace. Completely unnecessary for me but very useful to old Glaisher considering they mean half a guinea apiece to him. Henry. Which the Governor pays. Eustace. Which the Governor pays as you. say. That's why I do it. Somebody must keep old Glaisher going or what would become of all the little Glaishers? Here's the Governor with piles of money to throw away on Parliamentary elections and simi- lar tomfoolery. Why shouldn't I divert some of it to old Glaisher. I like the little man. Henry. You're awfully generous — with other people's money. Eustace. I am. Whose money are you generous with? . (Henry goes up stage.) (Henry snorts with disapproval. Enter l. from garden Mr. and Mrs. Jackson in outdoor things, as from a luncheon party). Morning father, (Enter Mrs. Jackson) I've not seen you before to-day. You went out before I got down. Mr. Jackson, (gruffly, sitting down) Good morning. (Mrs. Jackson having hissed Eustace, sits). Eustace. Morning, Munmiy. (to Mr. Jackson) By the way you've just missed one of your Election Committee. Mr. Jackson, (alarmed) Not Sir John? It's only half-past three. 64 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL, Eustace. No — only little Glaisher. He said he was too early. However, as you weren't there he came and had a look at me. Mrs. Jackson. What did he say, dear? EiigTACE. Said I was getting on all right. He's coming to have another look at me in a day or two. Mb. Jackson. When does he think you'll be well enough to get to work again ? Eustace. I don't know. I didn't ask him. Mrs. Jackson. Oh, Samuel, it's too soon to think of that yet! (Mrs. Jackson sits at c. table) The poor boy's only convalescent. Wait till Dr. Glaisher has stopped his visits. (Snort from Henet). Eustace. My dear Henry what extraordinary noises you make. It's a terrible habit. You should see someone about it. Why not consult Glaisher? (Henry goes up angrily.) Mr. Jackson, (to his wife) As you please, dear. Still I should like to know what Eustace intends to do when he is well enough. I'm bound to say he looks perfectly well. Eustace, (blandly) Appearances are so decep- tive, father. (Enter Violet l. from house. She has some work in her hands). Violet. Got back. Mother dear? (hisses her) Enjoyed your lunch ? rHB RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 65 Mrs. Jackson. Very much. It was quite a large party. Violet, (sitting down) What did you talk about ? Mrs. Jackson. About your father's election prin- cipally. They say Parliment may dissolve any day now. What are you making dear? Violet. Handkerchiefs. I promised Eustace I'd work some initials for him. {Goes up stage and sits). Me. Jackson, (returning doggedly to his sub- ject) Perhaps you will be good enough to tell me what your plans are, Eustace. Eustace. I haven't any plans, father. Me. Jackson. You haven't any? Mrs. Jackson. Eustace said the other day he thought he would like to be a doctor. Me. Jackson. A doctor' Nonsense. Mrs. Jackson. Well. I only tell you what he said. Eustace. My remark was not intended to be taken literally. I don't seriously propose to enter the medical profession. Me. Jackson, (irritably) Do you seriously pro- pose anything? Eustace. No, father. I don't know that I do. Mr. Jackson, (meditatively) I might perhaps find you a place in the office. Henry, (down to table) (firmly) No father! I object to that. Violet. Henry ! 66 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. Henry. Yes, I do. I object to the ofSce being used as a dumping ground for incompetents. Mks. Jackson. Henry ! Your own brother ! Henry. I can't help that. I don't see why the Firm should be expected to pay a salary to someone who's no earthly use merely because he's my brother. Mr. Jackson. Still we might try him; Henry. My dear father why not face the truth? You know what Eustace is. We got him into Jenkins' oflBce. He made nothing of it. Then he was in the Gloucester and Wiltshire Bank. No use there. He tried farming. Same result. Finally you gave him a thousand pounds to settle in Australia. That was five years ago and here he is back again without a sixpence. Mrs. Jackson. Eustace has been very unlucky. Henry, (impatiently) What has luck got to do with it ? Eustace doesn't work. That's what's the matter with him. Mrs. Jackson. Still if he had another chance. Henry. My dear mother you always believe peo- ple ought to have another chance. It's a little mania with you. Eustace has had dozens of chances. He's made a mess of every one of them. You know that as well as I do. Mr. Jackson. Yes. There's no use hiding it from ourselves. Henry. Not the least — as we can't hide it from anyone else. Mr. Jackson, (after a pause) Well, Eustace, what do you think? (Goes up stage.) Eustace, (airily) I? Oh, I agree with Henry. (lights another cigarette.) THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 67 Me. Jackson. You what ? Eustace. I agree with Henry. I think he's di- agnosed the case with great accuracy. Henry ought to have been a doctor too ! Mr. Jackson. (Getting up angrily and making an oration) Now look here, Eustace. I've had enough of this. You seem to imagine because you've been ill (Eustace grins at Henkt) and come home in rags nothing more in the way of work is to be expected of you. You're to loll about in a hammock smoking cigarettes and taking not the smallest interest in any plans that are suggested for your future. Henry says the reason you've always been a failure is that you don't work and you say you agree with him. Very well. What I have to tell you is I'm not going to have you loafing away your time here. I disapprove of loafing on principTe. Both as a public man and as a private man I dis- approve of it. There's far too much of it in Eng- land to-day. That's where the Germans are ahead of us. Young men who ought to be at business or in the professions idle away their time and live on their parents. That won't do for me. I insist upon your getting something to do at once and doing it. I insist upon it. If you don't — (During the last sentence of this impassioned ora- tion Sir John and Lady Faringfoed and Stella enter e. shown in by Baines.) Baines. Sir John and Lady Faringford, Miss Faringford. 68 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. (Instant change of front on the part of the whole family, Mr. Jackson stops short in the midst of his eloquence and hurriedly substitutes a glassy smile for the irascible sternness which accompanied his speech. Mrs. Jackson and the others who had listened in uncomfortable silence hastily assume the conventional simper of politeness as they rise to receive their guests. The only person who re- mains quite self-possessed is Eustace though he too smiles slightly as he gets out of hammoch. Eustace, (aside to Henry who comes down) Poor old Governor ! Stemmed in full tide. (General Greetings.) Mrs. Jackson. Dear Lady Earingford. How nice of you to come ! Stella my dear, (shakes hands with her and Sir John.) Lady Faringford. (meeting her and then up stage chattering to Violet r.) As Sir John was due at your father's Committee at four, Stella and I thought we would drive him down. Mrs. Jackson. You'll stay and have some tea now you're here of course I Lady Faringford. Thank you. Tea would be very pleasant. Stella. How do you do? (shaking hands with Henry) And how is the invalid? Getting on well? Henry, (grimly) Excellently. (Henry stands behind her.) Stella. That's right, (shakes hands with Eus- tace. To Henry) He really looks better, doesn't he ? Dr. Glaisher says it's been a wonderful recovery. THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 69 (Stella gets o. Mr. Jackson stands by her l. Henhy down l.) Henry. I suppose he does. Stella. (To Mr. Jackson) How glad you must be to have him home again. Mr. Jackson, (with ghastly attempt at effusion) It's a great pleasure of course. Stella. It must be so sad for parents when their children go away from them. But I suppose sons will go away sometimes, however hard their parents try to keep them. Won't they? Mr. Jackson. That does happen sometimes, er, unquestionably, (more briskly) And anyhow young men can't stay at home always, my dear Miss Faring- ford. They have their own way to make in the world. Stella. And so the parents have to let them go. It seems hard. But then when they come back it must be delightful. * Eustace. It is. Sir John. Hadn't we better be going in, Jack- son? I sha'n't be able to stay very long. I have to meet my agent at 5.15 sharp to see about some fences. Mr. Jackson, (looks at watch) It's barely four yet. We'd better wait a minute or two. Glaisher will arrive directly and then we can get to work. (Eustace taking advantage of Mr. Jackson's speak- ing to Sir John moves towards Stella c.) Sir John. Ling's advertised to speak at Maytree. I see, to-morrow week. 70 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL, Me. Jackson. Is he? At Maytree? That's rather out of his country. (Henry goes up.) Sir John. Yes. He doesn't go down so well in the villages. Thank Heaven agriculture is still con- servative ! They go to his meetings though. Stella. Mr Ling is such a good speaker they say. Eustace. My father is a good speaker too when he's roused. Miss Faringford. You should have heard him ten minutes ago. Sir John. What was he speaking on? Eustace, {airily) The Unemployed. (Mr. Jackson scowls at him. Henry comes down.) Sir John. I congratulate you Jackson. It isn't all sons who are so appreciative of their fathers' ef- forts. My son pever listens to me! (Me. Jackson smiles a sickly smile.) Baines. {announcing) Dr. Glaisher. (Eustace and Stella move l. Henry follows them and tries to join them without success.) Mr. Jackson. Ah, here you are doctor. I began to think you weren't coming. Mrs. Jackson, {shaking hands) Good after- noon. Why didn't you bring Mrs. Glaisher? She and I and Lady Faringford could have entertained jala. other while you were all at your Committee. THE RETURN OF THtB PRODIGAL. 71 Dk. Glaishee. She would have enjoyed it of all things. But I left her at home with the children. Tommy has the whooping cough just now and re- quires a lot of nursing. Mrs. Jackson. Poor little chap. I hope he'll be better soon. Mb. Jackson. {looMng at watch) Well, well. I'm afraid we ought to go in. Come, Sir John. Are you ready. Doctor? Shall I lead the way? {fusses off importantly) Come Henry. Sir John. By all means. Mrs. Jackson, (calling after him) As you are going would you mind ringing the bell, Samuel, and telling Baines to bring tea out here. Mr. Jackson. Very well, my dear. (Exit Henry ly lower door. Exeunt r. Me. Jack- son, Sir John, and Doctor. Eustace having lifted up the hammoch for Violet and Stella listens politely to them c.) Lady Paeingford. (At centre table with Mrs. Jackson) I do hope your husband will be elected, Mrs. Jackson. Mr. Ling has the most dreadful opinr ions about land — and indeed about everything else I'm toldi But that is of less importance. Mrs. Jackson. Indeed? Lady Faeingfoed. Oh yes. Only a year ago at a meeting of the Parish Council he made a speech attacking Sir John quite violently about one of his cottages. It was let to young Barrett, quite a res- pectable, hard-working man — who afterwards died of pneumonia. Mr. Ling declared the cottage was damp 72 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. and not fit for anyone to live in. So ridiculous of him ! As if all cottages were not damp. The absurd part of it was that afterwards when Mrs. Barrett was left a widow and Sir John gave her notice be- cause she couldn't pay her rent and he wanted to convert the cottage into pig styes Mr. Ling was equally indignant and seemed to think we ought to find Mrs. Barrett another house! I don't think he can be quite right in his head. (Eustace goes up stage as Baines and footman bring out tea on large tray and put it on table.) Violet, (rising) Shall I make the tea, mother? Mrs. Jackson. If you please, dear. (Stella down e. Eustace stands by her) Eustace. What do you think about damp cot- tages, Miss Faringford? Do you think they ought to be left standing in order that the laborer may live in them — and have pneumonia. Or be pulled down in order that the laborer may have no where to live at all? (Violet helps Ladt Faeingfoed to tea.) Stella (sits) I don't know. I think it's dread- ful there should be damp cottages anywhere. Eustace. That would never do. There must be good cottages and bad cottages in order that the strong may get the good cottages and the weak the bad. THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 73 Stella. You mean in order that the strong may have the bad cottages and the weak the good. They need them more. Violet. Mother. Eustace. That would be quite unscientific. No, the strong must have the good cottages in order that they may grow stronger, and the weak must have the bad cottages in order that they may die off. Survival of the fittest you know. Stella. How horrible. Eustace. Yes, but how necessary! Lady Faeingfobd. Come over here, Stella. You have the sun on your face there. Stella, (rising unwillingly) Very well, mamma. (goes and sits l.) Lady Faeingfokd. By the way, Mrs. Jackson, have you heard about poor Miss Higgs, who used to keep the school at Little Chedleigh and play the har- monium so badly on Sundays? You remember her? quite a good creature, knew all kinds of subjects and never expected one to take any notice of her. So of course one never did. Well, two years ago (to Eus- tace who offers her cake) No, thank you. . . . an Aunt died and left her a little money and Miss Higgs retired and went to live in Gloucester. One of those unattractive houses near the canal. But she seems to have been quite incapable of managing money. Put it into a gold mine, I believe, or gave it to her solicitor to invest — which comes to the same thing — and lost every penny. Mes. Jackson. Oh. Poor Miss Higgs. What a sad thing. Lady Faringfoed, Fortunately she was so af- 74 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. feeted by her loss that she drowned herself in the canal at the bottom of her garden. Otherwise I'm afraid some sort of a subscription would have had to be got up for her. (Eustace gets another cup of tea from Violet and takes advantage of the move to sit down by Stella. He at once iegins to talk to her in dumb show.) Violet. I liked Miss Higgs very much, Lady Faringford. {From this point to L. c. exit. Lady Fauingfokd keeps watching Stella out of the corner of her eye and showing by her manner her annoyance at Eus- tace's marked attentions to her daughter. Mrs. Jackson and Violet ara completely unconscious of this by-play.) Lady Faringford. So did quite a number of people, I'm told. She was quite a good creature as I said, much superior to the young woman who has succeeded her at Little Chedleigh. {Takes tea from Violet) I wanted them to give the place to my maid Dawkins who is getting rather past her work and really could have taught everything that is neces- sary or wholesome for the lower orders to learn, though I daresay she would have had some difficulty with the harmonium — at first. However they pre- ferred to get down a young person from London with the most elaborate qualifications. So highly educated in fact that I hear she can't teach at all. Mrs. Jackson. How very awkward. THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 75 Ladt PakiitGfoed. It is indeed. {Here Eustace sits hy Stella. Takes his tea from Violet) Stella ! Stella. Yes, mamma. Lady Faeingfoed. Say good-bye to Mrs. Jackson, my dear. We really must be going, (rising) Mrs. Jackson, {rising also) Shall I let Sir John know you are ready? Lady Paringfoed. Pray don't trouble. We can pick him up as we go through the house. Good-bye, Mrs. Jackson, {to Eustace, shaking harids) Good- bye. When do you go back to Australia ? Quite soon I hope. Come Stella. Stella, {shaking hands) Good-bye, Mr. Jackson. {Exeunt Lady Paein^gford and Stella e. escorted by Violet. A pause, Eustace sits at centre table indolently.) Eustace. Clever woman that. Mrs. Jackson. Is she, dear? I hadn't noticed. (Mrs. Jackson sits at c. table) Eustace. Yes. We're all of us selfish. But most of us make an effort .to conceal the fact. With the result that we are always being asked to do something for somebody and having to invent elaborate ex- cuses for not doing it. And' that makes us very un- popular. For everyone hates asking for anything — unless he gets it. But Lady Paringford proclaims her selfishness so openly that no one ever dreams of asking her to do things. It would be tempting Provi- dence. With the result that I expect she's quite a popular woman. 76 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. Mrs. Jackson. I'm so glad you like Lady Far- ingford, dear. Your father has the highest opinion of her. Eustace. The Governor never could see an inch before his nose. Mrs. Jackson. Can't he, dear ? He has never said anything about it. Eustace, {affectionaiely) Dear Mother! (Vio- let returns R.) Seen the Gorgon safely off the premises ? Violet, {laughing) Yes, — and Sir John. Mrs. Jackson. The committee was over then ? Violet. It is now — as Lady Faringford insisted on carrying off the chairman. Here's father. {Enter Mr. Jackson and Henry followed by Baines with letters on salver. Baines hands letters three to Mr. Jackson, two to Mrs. Jackson, one to Violet, Henry sits.) Baines. Shall I take away. Madam? Mrs. Jackson. Wait a moment, {to Mr. Jack- son) Will you have any tea, Samuel? Mr. Jackson, {opening long envelope and read- ing papers) No. We had some indoors. Mrs. Jackson, {to Baines) Yes, you can take away, {to Mr. Jackson) Did you have a successful meeting? (Baines and-footman take away tea) Mr. Jackson. {standing by table, reading still) Eh? Oh yes. Mrs. Jackson, {to Henry) What a pity Sir John had to go. Henry, {by his father) It didn't matter. We'd pretty nearly got through our business. (Mrs. Jack- TttE REfURN OF THE PftOfilGAL. 11 SON opens letter and becomes absorbed in its con- tents) Me. Jackson, (handing papers to Henkt) You'd better look through these. They're from Fisher & Thompson. It's about Wenhams' Mill. The sale is next week. Henkt. (nods) Very well. Mr. Jackson, (sits c. at table) Now, Eustace I want to have a serious talk with you. Eustace. N"ot again, father ! Mr. Jackson, (puzzled) What do you mean ? • Eustace. Couldn't you put it off till to-morrow ? I'm hardly well enough to talk seriously twice in one day. (Violet comes down to chair R.) Mr. Jackson. Nonsense, Sir. You're perfectly well. Glaisher says there's no longer the slightest cause for anxiety. Eustace. Traitor ! Mr. Jackson. What, Sir ? Eustace. Nothing, father. Mr. Jackson. As I told you before tea I'm not going to have you idling away your time here. The question is what are we to do ? Eustace. Just so, father. Mr. Jackson. I mean what are you to do? (pause, no remarh from Eustace) Lady Faring-' ford said as she went away you ought to go back to Australia. She said it was a thousand pities for any young man not to go to Australia. Mrs. Jackson. Eustace was just saying how clever Lady Faringford was when you came out. 78 THfi REtURN OP THE PRODIGAL. Mr. Jackson. I'm glad to hear it. Well what do you think? Eustace. About Australia? Me. Jackson. Yes. Eustace. I don't think anything about it. Mr. Jackson. Would you like to go out there again ? Eustace. No, I shouldn't. I've beai there once. It was an utter failure. Mr. Jackson. You were a failure, you mean. Eustace. As you please. Anyway it was no good and I had to work as a navvy on the railway. I don't propose to do that again. Henry, (loohing up) Other people do well in Australia. Eustace. Other people do well in England. Or rather the same people do well in both. Mr. Jackson, (peevishly) What do you mean? Eustace. Simply that the kind of qualities which make for success in one country make for success in another. It's just as easy to fail in Sydney as in London. I've done it and I know. Mrs. Jackson, (who has just opened her second letter) A letter from Janet. She is going to be at Gloucester next week and would like to come over to see us on Friday. We aren't going out on that day are we Violet? (Mr. Jackson impatient at this 'interruption opens one of the letters in his hand and glances at it) Violet. No, mother. Mrs. Jackson. That will do then. She'd better come to luncheon, (rises) I'll write and tell her at once before I forget. TittE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 79 Violet. Shall I do it, mother? Mrs. Jackson. No, dear. I can manage it. (Exit E. to house.) Mr. Jackson, {who has opened one letter and glanced at it opens second) Well ! {strikes table with clenched fist) Violet. What is it, father? Me. Jackson. What's the meaning of this I wonder! Barton must be out of his senses. Violet. Barton ? Me. Jackson. Yes, Barton, the tailor. Why does he send me in a bill like this? (Henry comes down L. of Me. Jackson) Twenty-five pounds. And I've had nothing from him since Easter. Listen to this. One lounge suit four guineas, one dress suit eight guineas, one flannel suit three pounds ten, an- other lounge suit four guineas. One frock coat and waistcoat four guineas, one pair of trousers one guinea. Total twenty-five pounds eleven. Eustace. They're mine, father. Me. Jackson. What, sir ! Eustace. Some clothes I ordered. I told him to send the bill to you. That's all right, isn't it. Me. Jackson. {exploding) All right! Cer- tainly not, sir. It's very far from all right. It's a great liberty. " Eustace. My dear father the bill must be sent in to somebody. Me. Jackson. And why not to you, pray? Eustace. What would be the good of that father ? I've nothing to pay it with. §d THg IlEfURN OF fSE PiRODlGAL. Mr. Jackson, (fuming) Then you shouldn't have ordered the things. Eustace. But I must wear something. I couldn't go on wearing Henry's things indefinitely. It's hard on him! ( Henky snorfs) My dear Henry! (Henkt goes up.) Me. Jackson. But what's become of all the clothes you had? You must have had some clothes. Eustace, (shrugs) They're in London — and in rags. Mb. Jackson. Now look here, Eustace. I'm not going to have this. I'm not going to have a son of mine running up bills here. Eustace. All right, father. I'm quite willing to pay for the things — if you give me the money. Me. Jackson. I shall not give you the money, sir. If you want money you must earn it. Eustace. That doesn't take us very far. Me. Jackson. You'll disgrace me. (Mr. Jackson rises and invohe: the heavens. Heney goes up e.) That's what will happen. I insist on your paying Barton and giving me your word of honor never to get anything on credit here again, (thrusts bill into Eustace's hand, then tramps about angrily) Eustace. I've no objection. I don't run up tailors' bills for pleasure. I'd just as soon pay ready money as you would. Only I haven't got it. Give me twenty pounds — No twenty-five pounds eleven — ^and I'll pay Barton to-morrow. THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 81 Mr. Jackson. I decline to give you money. I decline. Your request is impudent. Eustace. Let's keep our tempers, father. Me. Jackson. What, sir? Eustace. I suggested we should keep our tempers. That's all. Me. Jackson. This is intolerable. I disown you, sir. I disown you. Violet. Father ! Me. Jackson. Be silent, Violet, {to Eustace) I'll have nothing more to do with you. I'll pay this debt to Barton and any others you may have incurred since you came back. After that I've done with you. Leave my house at once. Eustace, {rising, very calm and first putting: chair in its place then speaking with ominous dis- tinctness) Very well, father. I'll go if you wish it. {movement for Mr. Jackson) But I warn you if I do go it will be to the nearest workhouse ! Mr. Jackson, {fuming) That's your affair. It has nothing to do with me. {turns away) Eustace. I question that. It rather knocks your election prospects on the head, I fancy. Me. Jackson, {swinging round) Eh ? What ? Eustace. You don't seriously suppose if I do this you'll be returned for Parliament? If you do you don't know the. British Electorate. (Henry walks towards l.) This is going to be a scandal, a scandal worth five hundred votes to the other side. And the last man's majority was only fifty. Oh no, my dear father, if it comes out that the son of the rich Con- servative Candidate is in the local workhouse, good- bye to your chances in this constituency. 82 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. Henry. You wduldn't dare ! Eustace. Dare? Nonsense. What have I to lose? Henet. But this is infanloiis. It's blackmail. Eustace. Call it what you like. It's what I propose to do if you force me to it. Violet. Eustace ! You couldn't be so wicked ! Eustace. My dear Vi have I any choice? Here am I absolutely penniless. The Governor flies into a rage because I order some clothes from his tailor and turns me into the street. What am I to do? I've no profession, no business I can turn my hand to. I might take to manual labor, break stones on the road. But that would only bring equal discredit on this highly respectable family. In England sons of wealthy cloth manufacturers don't work with their hands. Besides I don't like work- So there's nothing left but to beg. If I beg in the street the police will take me up. Therefore I must beg from my relations. If they refuse me I must go on the Parish. Henet. Father this is monstrous. I wouldn't submit to it if I were you. If he wants to prevent your election let him. I advise you to refuse, {down by table) Eustace, All right. But it knocks your pros- pects on the head too my dear Henry, social advance- ment and love's young dream you know. Miss Far- ingford won't marry you if this happens. Her mother won't let her. You're not so rich as all that. And if her mother would, Stella wouldn't. Stella rather likes me. In fact I think she likes me better THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 83 than she does you at present. I'm not absolutely cer- tain she wouldn't marry me if I asked her. Heney. Lady Faringford would forbid her. Eustace. Perhaps we shouldn't consult her. Anyhow if you leave me to eat skilly in Chedleigh Workhouse, Stella won't accept you. I lay you ten to one on it. (a 'pause. Gong rings) Well, what do you say? {Long silence, Mr. Jackson obviously not knowing what to do. Henry equally uncom- fortable) Nothing? (still silence) You Henry, you're full of resource. What do you think? (still silence. With a shrug.) Well first gong's gone, / shall go and dress for dinner, (strolls ojf R.) (Henry snorts and goes up stage.) Curtain. 84 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAU ACT IV. Scene: — The drawing room at Chedleigh as in Act I. Occasional table near sofa. When Curtain rises Mrs. Jackson and Violet are discovered. Violet is playing softly at piano, Mrs. Jackson sitting by fireplace nodding over a piece of work of some kind. Presently enter Eustace l. Violet stops playing, closes piano and comes down, later takes up handkerchief she is working for Eustace. Eustace strolls to his mother. Mrs. Jackson, (waking up, drowsily) Is that you, Eustace? Where's your father? Eustace. In the library with Henry. Mrs. Jackson. Talking business? Eustace, (nods) Yes. Mrs. Jackson. Can you see the time, Vi? Violet. (sitting by fireplace) Nearly ten, mother dear. Mrs. Jackson. So late ! They must be discussing something very important. Eustace, (grimly) They are. Mrs. Jackson. Have they been long in the library ? Eustace. They went directly you and Vi left the table. THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. SS Jackson. And you've been alone in the dining-room all that time? Why didn't you come ill to us? Eustace. I thought they might want to consult me. Mrs. Jackson. About business? I'm so glad. I'm sure you would be most useful in the business if you tried, though Henry doesn't think so. Eustace. Are you, mother ? Mrs. Jackson. Of course. Why not? Henry is. And you always learnt your lessons far quicker than Henry when you were a boy. Eustace, (laying hand on her shoulder) Flat- terer ! Mrs. Jackson, (putting worh into work tasket) Well, I don't think I'll stay up any longer. (Rises) And I do hope Henry won't keep your father up too late. It can't be good for him. (hisses Eustace) Good-night, dear. Sleep well. Are you coming, Violet? (kisses her) Violet. Directly, mother. (Eustace holds door open for her to go out. Then comes slowly down and sits in chair by Violet at centre table.) Eustace. Dear old mother. She's not clever, but for real goodness of heart I don't know her equal. Violet, (impatiently) Clever ! I'm sick of cleverness. What's the good of it? You're clever. What has it done for you ? Eustace. Kept me out of prison. That's always something. 86 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. (Violet makes gesture of protest.) Oh yes, it has. There have been times when I was so hard up I felt I would do anything, anything, just for a square meal. If I had been a stupid man I should have done it. I should have robbed a till or forged a cheque, and that would have been the end of me. Fortunately I'd brains enough to realise that that kind of thing always gets found out. So here I am, still a blameless member of society. (Violet says nothing, hut goes on working. Pause.) The mater hasn't been told? Violet. About what happened before dinner? No. Eustace. I'm glad of that. Violet. Why ? Eustace. My dear Vi, I'm not absolutely in- human. Because I'm fond of her, of course, and don't like giving her pain. Violet. She'll have to know sooner or later. Eustace. Then I'd rather it was later, in fact when I'm not here. If anybody has got to suffer on my account, I'd rather not see it. Violet. And you call Lady Faringford selfish! Eustace, (carelessly) Yes. It's a quality I par- ticularly dislike — in others, (pause) Violet. I can't understand you. As a boy you were so different. You were kind and affectionate and thoughtful for others. Eustace, (shrugs) I dare say. Violet. And now — ! Think what you have made of your life! You had good abilities. You THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 8? might have done almost anything if you had only tried. You might have been a successful, honorable man with an assured position and a record you could be proud of. You might. . . . Eustace, (putting his fingers in his ears) Stop, Vi. Stop. I tell you. I won't listen to you. Violet, (surprised) Why not? Eustace, (doggedly) Because I won't. All that is over. What's past is past. I have to live my life now. Do you suppose it would make it any easier for me to grizzle over wasted opportunities? No! As each year passes I turn over the page and forget it. Violet, (wondering) And do you never look back? Eustace, (with a slight shiver) Never! If I did I should have drowned myself long ago. Violet, (with horror) Eustace ! Eustace. Oh, my dear Vi, it's all very well for you to preach, but you don't understand. It's easy enough for you living comfortably here at home working for your bazaars and visiting your old wo- men. Your life slips away in a quiet round of small duties, paying calls with the mater, pouring out the governor's coffee. One day just like another. You've no anxieties, no temptations. The lines have fallen to you in pleasant places. And you think you can sit in judgment on me ! Violet, (quietly) You think my iJie happier than yours then? Eustace. Isn't it? Violet. No. Your life is your own. You can do as you please with it, use it or waste it as you think 88 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. best. You are free. I am not. You think, because 1 stay quietly at home doing the duty that lies near- est me and not crying out against fate, therefore I've nothing more to wish for ! Would you be happy, do you suppose, if you were in my case ? I live here down in Chedleigh from year's end to year's end. Mother never leaves home. She doesn't care to pay visits. So I cannot either. I may sometimes get away for a few days, a week, perhaps, but very seldom. And as mother grows older I shall go less. Soon people will give up asking me when they find I al- ways refuse. And so I shall be left here alone with no friends, no real companionship, merely one of the family obliged to know the people they know, visit the people they visit, not a grown woman with in- terests of her own and a life to order as she pleases. Eustace. But you'll marry — Violet.. Marry! What chance have I of marry- ing now? When we hadn't so much money and Henry and father weren't so set on taking a position in the County, there was some chance for me. Now there is none. It's all very well for Henry. He is a partner in the firm. He will be a very rich man. "He can marry Stella Faringford. Oh, we are to be great people! But you don't find Sir John Faring- ford's son proposing to me! No! He wants a girl of his own class or else an heiress, not a manufac- turer's daughter with a few thousand pounds. So the great people won't marry me and I mustn't marry the little people. Father wouldn't like it. He hardly lets mother ask them to the house now-a-days. And so the years go by and my youth with them, and I know it will be like this always, always. THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 89 Eustace. Poor old Vi ! And I thought you were quite contented with your bazaars and your old women. Why don't you speak to the mater? Violet, (resuming her work) What's the use? Mother wouldn't understand. She married when she was twenty-one. She doesn't know what it is for a girl to go on living at home long after she's grown up and ought to have a house of her own. So I stay on here knitting socks for old Allen and working your handkerchiefs and here I shall stay till mother and father are both dead. . . . And then it will be too late. Eustace. Poor old Vi! (a pause) Do you know you make me feel rather mean? Henry and the Governor I can stand up to. They're very much like me. We belong to the predatory type. Only they're more successful than I am. They live on their work-people. I propose to live on them. We're birds of a feather. But you're different. I - suppose you get it from the mater. Violet. Why are you so bitter against your father ? Eustace. Am I? Violet. Yes. Just now. And this afternoon. Eustace, (shrugs) Oh that — ! Well the fact is I wanted to bring things to a head. I feel I can't stay here. I must get away. Violet. Why ? Eustace. For lots of reasons. I can't stand this place — I've outgrown it I suppose. (Pause) And then there's Stella. . . . Violet. Stella ? Eustace, Yes. If I were here much longer I 90 THE RBTUKN OP THE PRODIGAL. might be falling in love with Stella, {walks over to Violet and stands by her) And that wouldn't be fair to Henry. After all he was first in the field. And it wouldn't be fair to her either. I'm not fit to marry a girl like that. No. I must get away. Violet. Poor Eustace. Eustace. Oh, you needn't pity me. I shall get along somehow. My life hasn't been success'ful. It hasn't even been honorable. But it's been devilish interesting, {iach at c.) {Enter Me. Jackson and Henet l.) Mb. Jackson. You here, Vi? I thought you'd have gone to bed. Your mother went long ago, I expect ? Violet. Only a few minutes. Me. Jackson. Well run away now, dear. It's late. Violet. Very well, father, {gathers up her ■ things and rises) Good-night. {kisses him) Good night, Henry. Good-night, Eustace. " Eustace, {taking her hand) Good-night, Vi. And good-bye. {holds open door for her) {She kisses him and exit l.) {While Violet has been getting her things together, Me. Jackson has been showing obvious signs of nervous impatience. Even Heney has fidgeted. When Violet has gone Eustace sits on settee l.) Eustace. Well ? Me. Jackson. Ahem ! We have been in consulta- *HE ftETURI* Of 1?aB P1RO0IGAL, 91 tion, your brother and I, as. to. tJifi right covurse to, adopt with regard to you. Eustace, (nods), So I supposed.. (Henkt sits in chair at top tdbh.y Mr. Jackson. After the extraordinary and un- dutiful attitude you took up this afternoon, I might naturally have declined all further relations with you. But ... . Eustace, (matter of fact) But as that course might prove, almost as disagreeable for youi;self as it would for me, you naturally thought better of it. Let's get on. Mr. Jackson, (rearwi^-. under this touch of the spur, hut mastering himself) I might point out to you, that we, your mother and I, have never failed jti our duty by you. We have been indulgent pareniSk. You were sent, to a first-rate school. Nothings waS; spared that could make you a prosperous and success-^ ful man. But I won't speak of that. Eustace, (drily) Thanks, father; Me. Jackson^ (running on) I might point out that we have given you a score of good chances for establishing yourself in a satisfactory position and you have failed to profit by them. I might remind you that since you returned to this roof Eustace. (impatiently) My dear father, 1; thought you were going to leave that part out ? And I do wish you wouldn't begin talking about your roof. When people refer to their roof, I always, know they're going to suggest something quite unpractical. In ordinary times they don't soar above the ceiling. 92 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. But in moments of fervor off goes the roof! Let's come to the point. Mr. Jackson, (collecting himself again) I will do so at once. Your brother and I feel that little as you have deserved this consideration at my hands and wholly as you have forfeited all claim to further assistance both by your past failures and by your conduct this afternoon you should yet be given one more chance. (During the latter part of this speech and the begin- ning of the next, Eustace insensibly begins to beat time to his father's impassioned antithesis.) Eustace. Come, that's satisfactory. Mr. Jackson. Five ye^rs ago when, after re- peated failures on your part, after paying your debts more than once and finding you openings again and again, I sent you to Australia, I gave you a thousand pounds to make a career for yourself. I told you that was the last sum of money you would have from me during my lifetime. ■ What may or may not come to you after my death is another matter. And I gave it you on the express stipulation that if you lost or squandered it you were not to write for more. Eustace. I kept that stipulation. Mr. Jackson. That is so. I now propose to do again what I did five years ago. I propose to send you back to Australia with a thousand pounds. Henry, (looking up from booh, which he has been appearing to read) To be paid to you after your arrival there. Mr. Jackson. Qxiite so. I will send the thousand THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 93 pounds, less the cost of your passage, to an agent to be paid to you on your landing. In return you are to projnise not to come back to this country with- out my express permission. I think you will agree with me that the course I am taking is a kinder one than you deserve. Few fathers would dq -as much. I might have named a smaller sum. But I prefer to err on the generous side. Eustace, (nodding) Quite so. And what do you propose that I should do with a thousand pounds ? Me. Jackson. That is for you to decide. You might start in business. Eustace. I've tried that. Mr. jACKSoisr. Sheep farming. Eustace. I've tried that. Mb. Jackson. Gold mining. Eustace. I've tried that. Mh. Jackson. Well, well, any line which you think offers you a favorable opening. Eustace, (insinuatingly) And which line is that? Mr. Jackson, (irritably) I don't know. Eustace. No more do I. (paitse) No, father, it would be absurd for me to accept your offer, because it isn't practical. It would only be throwing your money away. It would do, me no good, and cause you hearfelt distress. Mr. Jackson. Nonsense. Qther young fellows go out to Australia with less than a thousand pounds and make fortunes, far less. Why shouldn't you ? Eustace. Why indeed? However we must keep to the point. They make fortunes. / don't. 84 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. Mr. Jackson, (exasperated) In fact, they're active and energetic, you're useless and worthless. Where other people by thrift and enterprise and steady application make money, you only lose it. Eustace. Exactly. I lose it. And doubtless for lack of the qualities you mention. What then? Granted I am all you say how does that help us? Here I am, alive, and requiring food at the customary intervals. Who is going to give it me? (Henry snorts.) Eeally, Henry! Mr. Jackson, (hotly) That is to say you want to go through life sponging on your family instead of working for your living like an honest man. Eustace, (getting annoyed, rises and goes across to his father) Look here, father, hadn't we better drop all that stuff about wanting to sponge on one's family and the rest of it. Nobody wants to sponge on other people. The idea's preposterous. We all want to be prosperous and highly respected members of Society like you and Henry, with more money than we know what to do with, with a seat in Parliament and a wife out of the Baronetage. That's what we want! And if we haven't the luck or the brains or the energy to get it, you needn't call us names. You don't suppose I prefer losing money to making it, do you? You don't suppose if I had my choice I should drift about the world adding up accounts in a filthy Hong Kong bank or playing steward on a filthier ocean liner? You can't be so ridiculous. (Henet comes down) I'm good for nothing as you say. I've no push, no initiative, no staying power. I THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. 95 shall never be anything but a failure. But don't imagine I like it ! You seem to think you've a terrible grievance because I'm a ne'er-do-well and come to you for money, but the real grievance is mine. Henry, (tartly) If you don't like coming on your family for money, you needn't do it. {he then comes down E.) Eustace, (impatiently) It's not what I do but what I am that is the difficulty. What does it matter what one does ? It's done and then it's over and one can forget it. The real tragedy is what one is. Be- cause one can't escape from that. It's always there, the bundle of passions, weaknesses, stupidities, that one calls character, waiting to trip one up. Look at the Governor, that pillar of rectitude and business ability! Do you suppose he could be like me if he tried. Of course not. Nor could I be like him. Mr. Jackson. Have you no will ? Eustace. No. Have you? Have we any of us? (sits) Aren't we just the creatures of our upbring- ing, of circumstance, of our physical constitution? We are launched on the stream at our birth. Some of us can swim against the current. Those who can't, it washes away. (There is a pause. Henry loohs sullen. Me. Jack- son puzzled. Eustace who has grown rather heated, regains his composure.) Mr. Jackson. Well, what's to be done with you ? Eustace. I'm afraid you'll have to keep me. You're my father, you know. You've brought into the world a worthless and useless human being. I think those were your adjectives ? You're respoi jible. 96 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. Mb. Jackson. Is that any reason why I should support yoB? Eustace. No, father. Frankly I don't think it is. I think your sensible course would be to, ptit me quietly out of thife wicked world or hire someone else to do ^o. Vta a bad egg. I shall never hatoh into anything that will do you the smallest credit. Your sensiMe tourse is to diestroy me. But you daren't do that. Social convention won't allow you; the law would make a fuss. Indeed the law won't €ven allow me to put an end to niyself and sav6 you the trouble. I should be resfeued, very wet and draggled, from the muddy waters of the Ched by the solitary police- man, wlio seems to have nothing else to do, hut to stand about rescuing people who had much better be left to drown. I should be haled before IJhe Magis' trates — ^you're a magistrate yourself now, father. You'd be there — I should be given a solemn lecture and then "handed over to my friends" — ^that's you again, father — who would undertake to look after me in future. And I only hope you would be able to con- ceal your annoyance at my rescue from the prying eyes of your brother justices! Me. Jackson. You've no right to «ay that. You've no right to suggest that I wish you were dead. EUSTACE, (genially) Of course you do. You want me to go to Australia where you^l never hear of me again> where in fact I shall be dead to you. What's the differente? (a pause) Me. Jackson. Well, I won't «rgiie with joxk The question is what do you propose? Eustace, (after a moment's thovg^ht) In the THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 9^7 circTiinstaiices, I think your wisest course will be. to make me an allowance, say three hundred a year, paid quarterly. Then I'll go away and live quietly iti liondon and yoti'll be rid of me. Mr. Jackson, (angry ayain) I refuse, sir, I re- fuse absolutely. The suggestion is utterly shameless. EhiiSTACB. I da-re say. But it's perfectly sensible. I appeal to Henry. Henbt. Father, I think you'd better do as he says. If you gave him a thousand pounds as we in- tended, he'd 'only lose it. Better make him an al- lowance. Then you can always stop it if he doesn't behave himself. It's a shameless ptoposal^ as you say-, but it's practical. EtJSTACTJ. Bravo^ Hehty, I always said you had brains. That's exactly it. Shameless but eminently practical. Me. Jackson, (grumbling) What I can't see is why I shofuld allow you this money. i(HBNET turns away annoyed and sits.) Here's Henry who's perfectly satisfactory, and has never caused me a moment's anxiety. I don't give him money. Whereas you who have never caused me anything else expect me to keep you for the remainder of your life. EustAce. It IB unreasonable, isn't it. But we live in a humanitarian age. We coddle the sick and we keep alive the imbecile. We shall soon come to pensioning the idle atad the dissolute. You're only a little in advance of the times. England is covered with hospitals for the incu'ralbly diseased and asylums for the incurably mad. If a tenth of the money were spent on putting such people out of the world and the 98 THE RETURN OP THE PRODIGAL. rest were used in preventing the healthy people from falling sick, and the sane people from starving, we should be a wholesomer nation. Mb. Jackson, (after a pause) Well, if Henry thinks so I suppose I must give you an allowance. But I won't go beyond two hundred. Eustace. I can't keep out of debt on two hun- dred. Mr. Jackson. Two hundred and fifty then. Eustace, (persuasively) Three hundred. Mr. Jackson. Two hundred and fifty. Not a penny more, (breaking out again) Why, I'd starve before I consented to sponge on my family as you are doing. Eustace, (quietly) Ah. You evidently don't know much about starving, father! If you write a cheque for my first quarter now I can catch the 11.15 up. Mr. Jackson. You can't go to-night. You're not packed. And you'U want to say good-bye to your mother. Eustace. I think not. As I'm to go, it had bet- ter be as suddenly as I came. It saves such a lot of explanations. You can send my things after me to London. Mr. Jackson. (a pause) Very well. (on Eustace's l.) I'll go and write you a cheque. (Exit E.) (A long pause.) Henry, (bitterly) Well, you've got what you wanted. THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. 99 Eustace, (airily) Thanks to you, my dear fel- low. Henkt. What a sordid plot it has been ! To make your way into this house by a trick with the deliber- ate intention of blackmailing your own father. Eustace. You're wrong. The blackmail as you call it was an afterthought. When I made my way into this house in the way you so accurately describe my designs went no further than getting some decent food and a house over my head for a few days. But when I got here and found you all so infernally pros- perous, the Governor flinging money about over get- ting into Parliament, you intending to marry Far- ingford's daughter, I thought I'd put in for a share of the plunder. Henry, (disgusted) Well, you've succeeded, suc- ceeded because you've neither honor nor conscience about you. Eustace. No. I've succeeded because you're a snob and the Governor's a snob, and that put you both in my power. I might have been as poor and as unscrupulous as you please without getting a half- penny out of either of you. Luckily the Governor's political ambitions and your social ambitions gave me the pull over you and I used it. Henry. (rises and goes towards Eustace) Faugh! — (fiercely) You understand of course that if you are to have this allowance it is on the express condition that you give up all thoughts of Miss Far- ingford, give them up absolutely. Eustace. By all means. What should / be about, marrying a penniless girl like Stella. 100 THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. Henby. There's nothrag you won't do for money ! Even to giving up the girl you pretend to care for. Eustace, (shrugs) I daresay. Besides what would Stella be about marrying a penniless devil like me ? (Another silence.) Henht. (breaking out) And the best of it is if this story ever gets about, i^ou'll get all the sympathy ! Ne'er-dq-wells always do. The Governor and I would be despised as a couple of stony-hearted wretches with no bowels of compassion who grudged money to a necessitous brother while you would be calkd a light- hearted devil-may-care chap who is nobody^ enemy but his own ! Eustace. Well, I think I'd change places with you. After all, you're pretty comfortable here. And you'il marry Stella, damn you. (Henry, is silent. Pause.) (Enter Me. Jaoksqn with cheque in his hand.) Mr. Jackson. Here's yojir cheque. Eustace, (looks Oji it.) Fours into two. hundred and fifty. Sixty-two pounds, tea. Thanks, father. (holds out hand) Goodrbye. (Mr. Jackson kesitoites.) You may as welK After all I'm your son. And if I'm a sweep, it's your fault ! THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL. lOl Mr. Jackson, (tahes his hand) Good-bye. (hes- itates — moves to fireplace) (Eustace turns to go.) You may write oeeasionally, just to let us know how you are. Eustace, (smiles grimly. Then hands hack cheque) Make it three hundred, father — and I won't write. (Me. Jackson is about to protest angrily, then recognising the vselessness of that proceeding, says nothing, but waves cheque contemptuously away. Eustace still smiling, pockets it.) No ? Well have it your own way. Good-bye. Good- bye, Henry, (nods to him without offering to shake hands) (Exit L. Me. Jackson turns toward fireplace and leans head on mantelpiece with a sigh.) Curtain. "SEND FOR A NEW DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUB- , VO-L. XLI. 1 The Pirate's Lesracy 2 The Chatuo*) Eurner 3 AJtilgitbs 4 Senor Valiente 5 Forest Rum ' 6 Duke's Daugbter 7 Cmniljft'! Husband , 6 Fnre Oold VOL, XLir. 9' Ticket of Leave Mui Fool's Eev#iige , 1 O'JJeiltlie Great •i ttfttidy Andy 3 Fhate of the Isles 4 FAnehon 5 Liltle Barefoot ;6 Wild Insh tiirl ; Vol. ^LIIL 7 Pearl of Savoy ^ $ Dead I-learl 9 Ten NlghU in a B*r-rooni Dumb Boyof Manchester 1 BelphegortlieMouiiteb'k 3 Cricket OD the Henrth 3Priiit«r'« Devil 4 Meg'fe Uiversioa ' (Frenches Standard Drama Continued from 2d page of Cover.) eCup VOL. XpiV, 345 Drunkard's Doom a4l> Chiiilnev Corner Ml Fifteen Years uf a Drunk- IMS No Thoroun^hfRre rard'f 349 Peep 0' Day LliIc ^50 Everybody's Friend ;i61 Wen. (jiraiit ■ih'i Kat)>leen Mavi VOL. XLV, 353 Nick Whiffles U\ Fruits of the Wi 355 pruiikard's Warning 356 "Tenipera^pe Doctor 357 Aunt Dinah- ■Af>S WlUowFreeheart ,7 ;i59 Frou Frou J60 Long Sirike VOL. XLVL 361 Lancers 364 Wicked World , ;ili5 Two Orphans ;^^)6 (.^ulletn Bawn ;i67 'Twixt 'Axe and Crown lititl Lady Claucatithy VOL. XLVIL 369 Saratoga 3TI) Never Too Late to Mend 371 'tilv of France .112 Led Astray .JT:S Henry V 374 Unequal Match ri75 May or Dolly's Delui 476 Aliatoona VOL. XLVIIL 377 EnOoh''Ardan 378 Under the Gas Light •'.n Qaniel Rochal 3S0 €a8te ■ ' ;W1 Sohitol \m Home ^ 383 David Garrick 3S4 Ours VOL. XLIX. !85 Social_GU5s 3IJ6i Daniel Druue .JST^wo Roses 383 Adrienne , ■ .(89 The Bells "" ii)0 Uncle 391 Courtship ', 392'Notguuh a Fool VOL. L. Fine Feathers 394 I'rotnptor's Uax 395'Irun Master 396 £ngaf(ed 91 Fyfnxialton h Galatea 358 Leali ; 399 Si5rap' of Paper 400 Lost in Loiidoa VOL. LL 101 Octoroon 40S Confederntfl Spy 403 Mariner's Ketor* 404 Ruined by Drink 405 Dreairis 406 M. P. 407 War 408 Birth VOL. LIL 409 Nightingale 410 ProirrBaB ' 411 Play 412 Midnight 6har^ 413 <;!onfiilential Clerk 414 Snowball '' 415 Our ReKiinent 4]'6 MirribiTfor Money Hainlet in Three Acta Gutlle h Gulpit FRENCH'S INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHTED EDITION OF THE WORKS OF THE BEST AUTHORS. Comedy in' 3 Act*. " Sowing the Wind," Thft following very successful plays have j ust been issued at 25 cents per copy. THE BALLOOlf. farcical comedy In 3 Acta by J. H. PaBnlsy and MamVillk Fxnk. 6 male, 4 female characters.' Miss CLEOPATKA. Farce In 3 Acti by Amhd* ShiRLKV.^ 7 male, 3 female characters. SIX PEBSONS, Comedy Adl by L Zanowim,. 1 male, 1 female character. FASHIONABliE INTEtLIGEITqE. Comedi- f^tta in 1 ^Act by Pkkcy Fkhd^all. i male^.l'female character. Ht'OHLAWU LEGACY. Comedy in 1 Act by Brandon Thom*';, nuthjr of "Ch»rlBv'i Annt." b male, S female cbaract^». A PAIB OF SPEpTACLES. ■ by Sydnby Gbunoy, author of Ac. 6 male, 3 female characters. A POOL'S PAHAPISE. An oripinnlplay, In 3 Ai?ts bv SYDMtv Gbunpy, author of "Sowing the Wind," Ac. 5 male, 4 female characters. THE SILVER SHIELD. Anoriginrtl comedy 1n, ■> 3 Abt? by SyonrV ORUNnv, author of " Sowing the ' Wind," ac, 6 male, 3 female characters. THE GLASS OF FASHICT, An ofijrinal com-, eily in 4' A'ctfl by SynNKv t^HUNDV, author of "Sowing the Wind," Ac. 5 male, 5 fomate ' " " Charley's Aiiat." Contents of Catalogue which is sent Free. Amateur Urama Auiateur Operas Article's Needed by Amateurs -Ari'of Scene Painting .Baker's Rending Club Beards, Whiskers, Mustaches, etc. Bound Sets of Plays Bttlwer Lytton's Plays Burleiqite Dramas Bdrnt Cork ■ Cabman's Stur-y , CRmfval of Authors ^ Charaile Plavs -CMildren's Plays CpmicDraiiilte 'for Male Characters only ■ , Cmtnme Books Cmpe^Hair ' Cumberland li^ition Darkey Dramas Lmmas W Boys Drawing- room Monolofrnes Elocution, Reciters and Speakers EtUoplAQ Dramas Kve;iin[r'B KuteiLain'ment fairy and Home I-iays French's Costumes French's Editfon's ( ." French's Itialian Operias French'sParlor Cortiedies- French's'Standard arid Minor Drama Frenches Staudard and Minor Drama, ' boi)nd French's Scenes for Amateurs Frobisher's Cqpnlar Recitals - "" Grand Army Dramas Ouide Books for AnuiteUrs X^uide to Sejectine Pl«ys " ^Hints on Costum^ ~ > Home Plays for Ladles Irish Plays Irving's Plays Juvenile Plays Make-Up Book Make-Up Box Mock Trial Mrs. Jarley's Wax Worlt» New PUys . -' New Kecitation Bookn ," ^igeer Jdke^ and Stump Spesckes Parlor Magic Parlor Pantontinies Pieces of Pleasantry > Poems for Recitations Plays for Male CliaracterB •alj Round Games ) Scenery Scriptural and Historical Dramaa Sensation Draina^ Serio-Comic Dramas- Shadow Pantomimes. Shakespeare's plays for Amatears Sliakespeare's Pl^ys Stanley's Dwarfs Spirit Glim Tableau^ Vlvants . Talma:ActBr'G Art Temperanoe Plays Vocal Music of ^ibakeepeare's Plays Webster'ij Auting Edltioa Wigs, etc. '(^L. XT.r. 321 Adventures of a Love 3B2-' ost Child fLetter 353 Conrt Cards 354 Cox and Box 355 Fortv Winks 356 Wotiderfvil Woman 351 Ciirlons Case 398 Tweedleton's Tail Coat (Frenches Minor Drama CoTftinued from 4th page of Cover ^ VOL.XLni. 7,7,1 Sunset For Half a Million VOL. XLTL 329 As Lik^ as Two Peas 330 Presnmplive Evidence 331 Happy. Band 33B- Pinafore .333 Mock Trial .334 My Uncle's Will 336 HappV Pair 336 My Torn Next .339 Cnbla Car 340 Eaily^ Bird 341 Alumni Play 34V Show of Handf 343 Barbara 344 Who's Who VOL. XLIV, ^5 Who'a To Win Hin ."146 Which is WhidL 341 Cap of Tea 34^ Sar|ih''i T«ung Uaa 34? Hearts 350 In Honor Bound [Law 361 Freeaing a Mothw-la- 559 My Lord In Livery SAMUEL FRENCH, 26 West 22d St., New York City. ^P"N'.v fod Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Pree on Request. FRENCH'S MINOR DRAMA. price 15 Cents each.— Bound Volumei $1.25. VOL. I. 1 The Irlah Attorney 5 Booti at tlie Swftn 3 How to Pay' the ReUt 4 The Loan of a Lover fi The Duad^hot 6 His Last Uks. 7 Tlie Inriiilile Prince 8 The tioMuti F'liruler VOL. [L 9 PridtroF tht; ivlarket 10 Uaud Uu 1 1 The Irish Tatir 12 The Bat-rack Room 13 LcUe' the La wer 14 Beauty and the Beaat 15 St. Patriuk'a Eve 16 Captain of the Watch VOL. IIL 17 TheSecTet [pera 18 White Horse of the Pep- ^9 The Jacobite 20 The Bottle' 21 Box and Oot 22 Bainboozline ?,3 Widow's VicUm 24 Robsrt M iL-ftire ' VOI-.. IV. 25 Secret- Service 28 Oinnibiis- 27 Inah LI'.q 28 MaidofCroissy •29 The Old r PlK-a 08 I Dine witti .Vly M itlier 09 Hi-a-wa-tha no Andv Blalifl ■' ill Love in '76 [tits 12 Kooiance under Difficul- VOL. XV. 13 One Coat f.ir / Suits 114 '^ Decided Case 11^ Diugiitef , [no ritv 116 No,; or, ttie Qlori ma Mi- ll! Cur>ner'8 I^iiquisitiort 118 Live in liu iiljle Lii'e 119 Fiimily.Iara 120 Peraonatioa ' VO E ' xvr 21 Chilclren in the Wood ' 122 Winning a Huahand'" 2:j Ofty After the Fair ■' 24 .Hft'i-' V'>ur WiUa 1:^5 Rendezvous 126 My Wife's Husband 1 il Monsieur Tonson '128 IllustriOas stringer VQL. XV ri. 129 MlBchte^Making[Mi nes for Live Woman in tht 1:{1 The Ooraalr 132 Shylock 133 Spoiled Child IHA Bvil Eye 13S VqthirigtO"**arBe '■■" Wanteds Widow ' VOL. XVIII. LIT Lottery Ticket , '38, Kortune's Frolic 39 Ij ha Jenloasi 40 Married Bachelor 141 Husband at Sight US IriaTiman In London 143 Ani na! Magrt^tism 144 Highways and By-W ays , VOL. XIX I ' 145 Columbus 146 Harlequin Bluebeard 147 Ladia* at Home 148 Phenomenon In b Smock Fi^ock 149 Comedy and Tragedy 150 Opposite Veijrhbors 151 Dutchman's Rhost 163 Peraecuted Dutchman VOL. XX. 153 Mnaard Ball ' 154 Grpfit Tragic Revival 156 High Low Jn^^k A Game 166 A Gentleman from Ire- 157 Tom and, Jerry [land 158 VllUge Lawyer 159 Captain's not A-mias | Amateurs arid Actors VOL. XXL I«I l^romotion frtdf, 169 A Fascinating Individ- lP3 Mrs, Caudle 164 Shakespeare's Dream 165 Nr-ptune a Defeat ' 166 Laav of Bedchamber -.67 Take Care of Little 168 Irisli Widow [Charley VOL. XXIL 1«9 YAnkee Peddler, , 1^70 Hiram jiiraout 171 Double-bedded Room t7S The J^rama Defende'n 173 Vermont Wool Dealer 174 Kbeneier Venturfe [ter 175 Principles from, Charac- 176 Lady of the Lake ^Trav) f VOL. XXIIl, 177 Mad Dbgs- 178 Birnuy Uie Baton-. 179 Swiss Swains ■ ■ 180 Brtchelor's Bedroom 181 A Roland for an Oliver •182 More Blunders than One J83 Dumb B^Ue -' . 'l&4 Lim.Tiok boy VOK.XXIV. ' 155 Mature and Philosophy M6 Teddy the Tilei- Is" Spi^ctVe bridegroom 188 iWatteo I^'alcone 189 Jenny Llnd igO Two Uuzsard^ 191 Happy Man. 192 Betey Bftker. VOL. XXV. 1 Round tlfo Corner 194 Teddy Roe 195 Object of Int-reSt 16 My Fellow Clerk 191 Bengal Tlirer lt8 Laughing Hvena 199 Tlie ViCter Vanqnished ■JUO Our Wife > VOL. XXVI, 201 My Husband's Mirror 203 Yankee Lind 203 Norah Creina 204 Good for Nothing iOSThe First Night 206 The Eton n(>y 'JIJ7 Wandering Minstrel Wanted, iniM) Miliinera . V.OL, XXVII. 209 Poor Pilcodily -210 The Mummy , [Glasses 11 Don't Fbrg-t your Opera 212 Love in Livery ■il3 Anthony and Cleop atrA yinglt On k Yankee. yi6 Y'.ung Wife A Old Urn hrella VOL. xxvni. 217 Crinoline 918 A Family Failing ' ''19 Adopted rhlld 3Sfl Turned H^ads V21 A .Match in bhe Dark '22 Advice to Husbands 223 Siamese Twins '■ 224 Sent to the Tower VOL. XXIX. '2.^ Somebody FIse 2 6 Ladies' Battle 227 Art of Acting 228 The Lady of the Lions g'./9 The Highta of Man 230 Mv Husband's Ghoat 231 Two Can Play at that Game 232 Fightinfi- by proxy VOL. XXX. 23.*? UnpTotected Female 934 Pet of the Petticoats 235 Forty and Fifty, [hook 936 Who Stole tVe Porket 337„MySonDiank [sior 238 Unwarrantable Intru 2.39 Mr. and Mrs. White 240 A Quiet Family. '14 Tryi {hrencb s Minor Drama Cofiitnued on ^d pa^e of Cover.') VOL. XXXI. Sfl Ow? M'Cociimb* 242 Sodden Tiiougdw 243 Jniribo Jum . 244 A BligliteilBelng - 245 LitUe 'loddlekiini 24b A Lover by PraEv^[PBi| 247 Maid wftb the Milking 248 Perpiesing Pre :i52 The Dowairer -v.' 263 Metamora (KurltiiQiu) '64 Dreatria of Pe^ilon ' 255 The Shaker Lorara 256 Titkliah Times VOL. xxxm. . '57 20 Minutes with a Tl^ .268 Miralda; or, the Justice ' of Tacnn / 269 A Soldier's CourUhlpi / 260 Servaiita by Legacy '■ 261 Dying for Love.' ; 2tVJ Alaniiing Sacrifii;e , 263 Valet deShfcm ■ 264 Niuholte N lckleby:'b vol: xxxivt 265 The Last of the PJirtaiU 266 King ReDe''s l>a6ght^^! ' ' 267 The Grotto Nymp6 ■*, "■ 1'68 k Devilish GoudUpktf'- ' 269 A Twice T»id Tale .f" 270 pas de Fascination ' ' •'.> ■rtl Revolutionary jSoldler"' 272 A Ma-Q W'tlhoul a Head '" VOL^X'XXV. 273 The Olio, P.irt 1 274 TJie Olio, I'art 2 275 The Olio, Part 3 [ter ' 276 The Trumpeter's Daugh^- 271 Setiifg Warren ■J7t< Green Mountain Boy 279 That Nose 260 Thm Noddy's Secret VOL. XXXVL 281 Shocking Event* ' ' - 282 A Regular Fix 283 Dk'lt Tnrpin 284 Young Scrimp 98s Young Actretifi 286 0all'at No. 1— 7 ' 287 One 3V)ucb oi Nature 288 Two B'lioya VOL. XXXVIL 289 All the World's a Stage 390Q4iaBh,'or Nigger Yrt: 291 Turn Hhn Ont [tice 292 Pretty GiTjBpfStillb^rg 293 Angel«f the A,tttc 294 CircumstanCea|i|ItB>Caia 29fiKatty O'Sheal--"' 296 A Supper in Pl«ie. .-, ., VOL.XXXVHL ','- 297 If I on Parle Fr«nc»ta ' 29H Who Killed CocV'Rablil ^ ■J99 Declaration of Ijtclepend-; 300 Heads or Talli [BnAv 301 [Obstinate Family -* ^ •102 My Aunt ;■ - -^j M3 That Raschl Pat > I '104 Dop Paddyje Bamn . vol: :tXXTX, [fane 306 Too Much for Good H»- 306 Cure for thP FldgeHl ,^ 307 Jack's the Lad ' ,^', .30S MuchAdoAMntNothlnf 309 Artful DodfiWr, . .^ - 310 Wi^ining HaMrd UJ Day's Fishing; [Ac. ^12 Di ofVnona. kOTlie J»loui Wif* 81 The RlTftli , 89 Perfectlop , VOL. V; EDabti 89 A Ne»f W»y to Pay Old 84 Look Beforfl Yoa htt.^ 8£ King Jobn 14 Nervoui Wfm ST Damon Md Pv^hlM 18 ClftTldvitiKe Marriag* 89 WilIi»M TeU 40 Day «(l«r the Wadding VOL. VI, 41 Spfl^d tb« Ploucli I 49 ItoBiflo and Jultat 43 Fendal Time'i 44 Chariai tha Twalftb 4^ The Bridc- 40 Tha Folliei of a Night 47 Iron Cheit , [Fair Lady 48 faint Heart Never .Vl'on ,VOL. Vlt. 4t Road to Ruin ' 10 Macbeth ^ <1 TempBr ' S9Evadne 18 Bertram uTheDnanna 56 Much Ado Aboat Nothing '66 Tha Critic VOL, VIIL 57 The Apoitate 68 Tirelftta Night 49 Brutni flO SimpioQ & Co 41 Merchant of Vantc« 15 Old HeadiA Young Hearti 83 Momtatneers [riaf;« «4 Three Weak* after Mar- VOL. IX. 16 Love IS Aa Yon Like It «T Tha Elder Brother 18 Werner 19 Olilppni 79 l^own and Conatry ' ' 71 King Lear 79 Blue DbtIU VOL, X. 78 Henry Vm 74 Married and Single TSHentylV; 76 Paul Pry 7T Ony Mannertng 78 SweethearU and WItci 79 Serloiu Family 80 Bha Stoop* to Conqaer VOL. XI. 81 Jullui Caeaar 83 Vicar of Wakefield 83 Leap Year 84 The CatBpair 86 The Passing Cloud 84 Drunkard ■ - SrRob Roy /. 85 Georgtj Barnwell - VOL. XI i. 89 Ingomar 90 ^ktttchei in India fll TwoFriiends , 9'''Jane Shore 93'CprBlcan Brothers 94 Mind your own BuBluesi 96 Writing on the Wall 96 Heir at Law 1 VOL, XIIL 97 Soldier's Daughter 9^ Dpuglftf 99 Marco Spada 100 Nature's Nobleman 101 SaTdaoBpahiB IQ'J Civiliialion lOS^ThoRobbers 104 Katharine and Petruchio ' 'vol. XLV. 106 Game Of Love 106 Midaumu^er Night's 107 ETrneBtine [Dream 108 Rag Picker of Pari* 109 Flymg Dutchoian 110 Hypoerite 111 Theteie lis La Tour de Nesle VOL. XV. 113 Ireland Ai.It Is 114 Sea of Ice 116 Seven Clerks 116 Game of Life ni Ii;orty Thieves 116 Bryan Boroihme 119 Roitiance and Reality' laOjUgolino VOL. XVI. 121 The Tempeit 199 The Pilot 133 Carpenter of Rouen 136'Dombey and Son 12" Parents and Guardians 114 Jewess • VOL. XVH. 199Camlt)e Married Life 131 wedlock of Wenlock la? Rose.ofEtlrickvale 133 David Copperfield 134 Aline, or the Ro«e of 35 Pauline [Killarney 136 Jane %re VOL. XV UI. 1:^7 jNlKht and Morning 1 38 vEthiop l.v9 Three Guardsmen 14rjTomCrin(tIe Ul Henrlette, the Forsaken USEustache Baudin 143 Emeat Maltravers 144 Bold Dr&goons VOL. XIX. 146 Dred, or, the Dismal ■' [Swamp 146 Last Davs of Pooipeil 147 Eimeralda ].48Fet«n Wilbins 149 Bap the Bontswaln lAO Jonathan Bradford 151 Retribution 1S9 Mioerali VOL. XX. 1 53 French Spy 154 Wept of Wlah-toa Wish 155 Evil GeniuB 166 Ben Bojt 167 Sailor df France lesttedMuk 159 Life of au Actreis 150 Wedding Dar VOL. XXL III All's Fair in LOTt 169 Hofer 163, Self 164'Ciader:tlJa 166 Phantdm 166 Franklin l£7 The ' Guamaker 'of ll( - - [Moicoff 18 The Love of a Prii ■ VOL. XXII. I6>&oiiof the Night npRoryO'More 171 Golden Eagle ' 172 Rienii ' , 173 Broked'Svrord 174 Rip Van Winkle 175 laabelle neHeirt of Mid Lothian > • VOL: XXllL 177, Actress of Padua i nd Floating Beacon 179 Bride ofLammermoor IflO Oalaract of-the Ganges I)il Robber of the'Rhioe 182 School of'Reform ,183 Wandering Boya ' 184 Mazeppa VOL. XXIV. 186 Young New York 186 The Victims 187 Romance after Marriage 188 Brigand 189 Poor of New York 190 Ambrose (jwinett 191 Raymond and Agnes 192GamblepVFate VOi- XXV. 193 Father and Son . , 194 Msssanitjllo 195 Sixteen String Jack 196 Youthful Q.ueeh 197 Skeleton Wltnub 198 Iimkeeper of AbbevUIl^ l!il) Miller and his Men ' 'JOO Aladdin - VOL. XXVL 201 Adrienhe the Actreas •JOi Undine ■, •JOa Jtsse Brpwn 904 AsmodeuH i05 Mormons ^ 206 Blanche qf Bran^ywlhe 207 Viola ■ ' - 208 Deacret Deserted ■ VOL. xxvir. 2(19 Ajnurip^nsln Paris 210 Viclorine " ■ ' 211 Wizard of-thd Wave 21 ii Castle Spefltre , 'I 2i:j Horse-thoe Robinson ■■' 214 Armqnd, Mrs. Mowatt . I.s Faahion^Mrl Mowatt 16 Glance at New York VOL. XXVIIL' '917 Infionttant 21H Uncle Tom'* Cabin 219 Uuide to th^ Stage. 220 Veteran 2:;l Miller of New Jertey 222 Dar^ Hour before Dawn 223 Midium'rNight'sDream [Lnura Keena's Edition 294 Art and Artifice VOL. XXIX. J25 Poor Young Man 226 Ossawattomie Brown 227 Pope of Rome 228 Oliver Twist '- 229 Pauvrettfe . ■ , 230 Man In the lr6n Mask ■ 231 Knight of Arva 232 Moll Pitcher ' VOL. XXX. ,233 Black Eyed Snaan 2:i4 Satan in Paris SSSRoairia Meadows ' [pas 236 Weit End, or Irish Heir- 237' Six Degrees of Crime ■ 238 The Lady and the Devil 239 Avenger, or Moor of &cl* 240 Masks and Faces ' [ly (French's Standard Drama Continued on ^dp^age of Cover.) VOL. XXXI. 941 Merry Wives of Wlndior 949 Mary'i Birthday 243 Shandy Magulra 944 Wild Oats' S46 Michael Erie 946 Idiot WItnaaa 247 WiJlow<)opsa . 248 P«ople'l Lawyer VOt. XXXII. 849The.Boy Marlyra 950 LuCrMia Borgia 261 -Surgeon of Parli 262 PaWcfan'i Daughter 253 Shoeniakei: of Touloma 264 Momentous Queituin 265 L^Ove and Loyalty 256 Rohbfcr't Wife VOL. XXXIIL 257 Dumt> Girl of Genoa 9&8 Wreck Aahora 269 Clari i 260 Rural Felicity 261 Wallace * ,2G9,Madelaine 26il Tbe Firtman ■ 264 Grist to the Mlll- ' ' V0L.,XXXIV. 266 Two Loves and a Lffe , 26'6 Annie Blake 967 Steward 268 Captain Kyd 269 Niek-of tlie Wooda 27t) Mdrble Heart . 271 Second L(tve 272 Dream at Sea, VUL. XXXVi 273 Breach of Promlw ' 274 Review 276 Lady of the Lake 276 Still Water Ruua Deep' V77 The Scholar 278 Helping Han^s 279 Faust and Marguerite 280 Last M^n . VOL. xxxvr. 381 Belle's Stratagem ' ^ 282 Old and Yoyug 983 Raffaella ' 284 Ruth Oakley ' 286 British SJrv< 2b6'A Llfe'iKanaom §87 .GIral(^ ' 285 Time Trie* All VOL.XXXVIL 289 EIlaRosenburg 290 Warlock of thc'Glea 291 Zetina 992' Beatrice gaa Neiglibor Jackwood 994. Wonder 1:^,5 Robert 'Emniet 996 Green Buihea VOL. xxxvra. 297 Flowers of the Eoreat 298 A Bauhelor of Arts 299 The Midniitht Banquet 300 HuabVid of in Hour 301 Love'a Labor Loif :i02 Naiad Queen 3ii3-Capricff 304 Cradle of LIhertv VOL; XXXIX. 308 The Lost Ship 30B Countr^i' Squirt 307 Fraud and, its Victlmis, ■Mb' Tutnam -' ' '" S09 Kinpaiid Deserter 310LaFlanirt)lnk ' ', C-4 311 A Hard Struegle • 'M 312 Gwiiiijetle Vaugban'. ;* ^ VOL. XL. 313 The Love Knot [Jndg* 3'14 Lavater, or Not ait Bad s'lflThe Noble Heart 316 Cor-iolannk'' 317 The Winter's Tile 318 Eveleen Wilson /'' 1 319 Ivanhne /-',■ 320 Jonathan In Englani'^ 'I SAMUEL FRENCH, a6 West aad Street, New York City. New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue mailed Free on Request.. I HE TWO MR. WETHERBYS a ^f5J)le*G;iass Come&g in Ubree acts ST. JOHN HANKIN * Life is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feol." HORACB WalFOLB. Copyright, 1907, by Samuel French Caution:— Professionals and Amateurs are hereby notified that this play is fully copyrighted under the existing laws of the United States Government, and nobody is allowed to do this play without first having obtained written permission of Samuel French, 24 West aad St., New York City, U. S. A. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. Scenes. Act I. The Drawing-room at the James Wetherby's. Act II. The Dining-room at the James Wetherby's. . Act III. Sams as Act I. The ourtain is dropped for a moment half-way through Act II to represent the lapse of three hours. Cbaracters. Richard Wetherby. . The bad Mr. Wetherby, living in a bachelor flat in London. CoNSTANTiA Margaret's sister, married to Rich- ard but separated from him. James Wetherby The good Mr. Wetherby, living en famille at Norwood. Margaret His wife. Aunt Clara Aunt to Margaret and Constantia, a pious old lady of 65. Robert Carne Her nephew, a solemn prig with no digestion. Maid At the James Wetherbys'. Scene : — Mr. James Wetherby's house at Norwood. The action of the play takes some 80 hours, from the afternoon of one day to the forenoon of the next. 2 Cast of the Original production before the Stage Society at the Imperial Theatre, London, on March 15, 1903. Richard Wetherby. . Mr. Nye Chart. CONSTANTIA Miss Nancy Price. James Wetherby Mr. A. E. George. Margaret Miss Ellen O'Malley. Aunt Clara Miss Henrietta Cowen. Robert Carne Mr. Dennis Eadie. (The play produced by Mr. Charles Rock.) properties. ACT I. Knitting. I rrkttii. For Aunt Clara. Walking-stick. J Newspaper. Tea cloth. Tea things for four. Plate of thin bread and butter. Plate of biscuits. Cake. Cheque book in drawer of writing-table. Pen, ink and blotter on writing-table. Printed appeal for a charity (Robert.) Largish lacquered Japanese tray. Conspicuous photograph of James in frame. Small brass clock on mantelpiece. Silver framed calendar on writing-table. A few other knick-knacks which Margaret will collect as souvenirs in Act III. 3 PROPERTIES. ACT IL Table cloth. Dinner things for three. Dessert things for three. Spare dinner things on sideboard. Coffee cups for three ; sugar, milk. Small tray for serving coffee. Large tray for clearing table. Tray for whisky and soda. Crumb scoop and salver. Tantalus or decanter for whisky. Syphon. Three or four' tumblers. Cigar case containing cigars and cigarettes (Dick). " Empire " programme. Smoking jacket (for James). ACT la Japanese tea-tray. Photograph of James in frame. Small brass clock Silver framed calendar. Knibk-knacks for Margaret to collect. ] M o s Pi n o bD a c CIJ ■n c ni (D O ca CO e H o I a z B W U Oh B! cc 3 ^ ^ ^ * < H a J « z oc u h < 1^ I CO ^ ^1 d w 4^ ^ " w cd fe O o +J H 02 g >i p m X CI ^ L- .2 i«i J -i w a fi Pi ^ 5 ^ c O) on n i is- 2 S w r W CT> U) CO It e « a I cs THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. ACT I. Scene. — The James Wethekbts' drawing-room at Norwood. A door e. leads to Hall. French windows at hack, closed, give on to surhurhan garden. Fireplace l., writing-taile with chair down L. facing audience. Circular settee to seat three, one with hack to audience, the other two facing h. c. and r. c, occupies centre of stage. General furnishing of room philistine hut not shahhy. A profusion of plush photo- graph frames on mantelpiece and on upright piano which stands against wall r. One of the most conspicuous frames on mantelpiece contains photograph of James Wetherby. [When Curtain rises Aunt Clara, an old lady of sixty-five, is discovered in armchair making a crochet shawl. James is sitting near her on set- tee c. reading a newspaper aloud) James, {in hored voice) " It is, however, abundantly clear that the Government possesses Note. The Stage Directions throughout this play are given from the standpoint of the audience, K. meaning the Audience's Eight, l. the Audience's Left. 5 6 THE TWO MR. WETHBRBYS. the confidence of the country and that unless some unforeseen diflSculty arises, the present adminis- tration will remain in power at least until the autumn — " {yawns slightly) I beg your par- don; Aunt Clara- " Meantime it is for the Prime Minister and his colleagues to take measures to prevent any diminution in that confidence, and to see to it that when the Next General Election takes place, the Conservative party are not merely returned to Power, but returned with an even larger majority. Only in this way can the ene- mies of this country be convinced that her destiny is in strong and capable hands, and be restrained from embarking in enterprises hurtful to her interests or damaging to her prestige." (yawns) " To hand over the task of forming a Government to the disunited factions of the Opposition would be " Aunt Clara, (in hard clear tone) Will you kindly pick up my wool, James? It has rolled under the settee. James. Certainly, Aunt Clara, (grovels for it, and after disentangling it from various chair legs, etc., returns with it triumphant, iut flushed with exertion) Here it is, (Places it on table heside her) (She replaces it on her lap where it is obvious that it will once more fall in. a minute or two) Now where was I? Ah, here we are. (Resuming iored voice) " It is however abundantly clear that the Government possesses the confidence of the country — THE TWO MR. WETHERBTS. 7 (Aunt Clara's l>all again seeks the floor) and that unless some unforeseen difficulty arises the present administration will remain in power, etc." (reads on as before) Aunt Clara, {feeling for wool) There! It's gone again ! James. {Jbored) Where is it now, Aunt? Aunt Clara. On the floor. I had it on my lap a moment ago. It must have rolled under that chair. Will you give it me, please? (Jambs puts down paper with the least possible suggestion of irritation and recommences grov- elling. Finally again emerges successful and places it on table) {replacing it on lap) Thank you, James. James, {eyeing the manoeuvre with strong dis- favor) Wouldn't it be better to leave it on the table? Then it wouldn't be so likely to slip oflP. Aunt Clara, {placidly) No, I'm used to hav- ing it on my lap. James. Very well, Aunt. Shall I go on? {picks up paper again) " It is however abun- dantly clear that the Government possesses the confidence of the country and that unless some unforeseen difficulty arises — etc." {yawns again) Aunt Clara, {in her hard clear tones) Haven't you read that part before? James. It does sound rather familiar. Aunt Clara, (severely) I'm afraid you're not reading with much attention, James. James. I suppose not, I'm rather tired. (smothers another yawn) 8 THE Two MR. WETHBRBYS. Aunt Clara, (offended) Perhaps we had bet- ter put aside our reading for this afternoon, then. James, (putting down paper with sigh of re- lief and rising) Very well, Aunt, (strolls to- wards garden c. up r. to c.) Aunt Clara, (quite unconscious of this man- CRUvre) We might talk a little instead. After luncheon when I'm not being read to, I like to con- verse for a few minutes. It prevents me from going to sleep. James, (to her, turning hack from garden) You're sure you wouldn't rather go to sleep? Aunt Clara. No, James. I do not approve of this modern habit of sleeping during the day. (James sighs dismally and goes to fire where he stands with hack to mantelpiece looking pro- foundly hored) (putting down crochet, etc., on table) Has Con- stantia come yet? James. No, she won't be here much before tea, I expect. Aunt Clara. And Richard? James. Dick comes about the same time. Aunt Clara, (reproachfully) I cannot think how you could have asked Richard to stay here! After the way he treated Constantia ! James, (casually) Oh, Dick's not a bad fel- low. He didn't get on with Constantia, of course, but he's got his good points all the same. Aunt Clara, (severely) I have never been able to find them. His treatment of your sister-in-law was shameful. I am sure with your high princi- ples you would be the last to defend it. THE TWO MR. WBTHERBYS. 9 James, (hastily) Of course, of course. Still one mustn't judge too harshly. Aunt Clara. I hope I do not, James. Indeed it would be hard to do so in this case. James. Cbored) He's only coming for one night. And after all he is my brother. Aunt Clara. That scarcely seems to me to be in his favour. You are too forgiving, James. Per- sonally I don't approve of this modern habit of forgiving people. It encourages them. And to invite him here! What will Constantia think? James. I did it partly to oblige Constantia. When the separation between her and my brother was decided on, it was arranged that the two parties should meet once a year. It was thought that this might open the way to a reconciliation later. When the date for the meeting approached, the question immediately arose where should it take place? Constantia wished it to be at her house here in Norwood. Dick declined this, and suggested his flat in Maddox Street. Each of them, in fact, wanted it to take place on his own ground. To put an end to all discussion I sug- gested that it should be here. And here it is to be. (smothers another yawn) Aunt Clara. Ah, James, you are always thoughtful for others! If only your brother had been like you ! But he has no heart. James. Dick's all right. He's been a little wild, but he'll settle down, (looks at watch) I suppose he'll be here about half-past four. (crosses r. to c.) Aunt Clara. Eobert will arrive rather earlier. 10 THE TWO MR. WETHBEBYS. James, {endeavouring to conceal Ms disgust) Eobert! Why, he was here to luncheon. Aunt Clara. Yes, but he is coming back to tea. In Constantia's interest he thought as many of her relatives as possible should be present during the interview — to support her. James, (grimly) I don't think Boiert would be much support. Aunt Clara. You never can tell. A man of his high principles ! James, (impatiently) Oh, his principles are all right. Aunt Clara. I am sure you do not under- value such things. James, (hastily) My dear Aunt Clara, cer- tainly not. Still Robert is not exactly a strong man, is he? — except in principles, I mean. (crosses to l. c. aiove talle) Aunt Clara. My poor nephew certainly enjoys wretched health. James. I wonder whether he has enough to do? (at hack of tahle l. c.) Aunt Clara. (complacently) Eobert has plenty of occupation. He comes to see me every day! James. Yes, he's generally here, I notice. Aunt Clara. You are so hospitable. And Robert is devoted to his relations. That shows such a nice nature. James, (hored) No doubt. Aunt Clara, (enthusiastically) And then he does so much good. Always busy about collect- ing subscriptions for some deserving object. I THE TWO MR. WBTHERBYS. 11 call that such a useful life. His means, poor fel- low, don't allow of his contributing himself, but he collects quite a large sum from others. James, (grimly) Yes, I've noticed that! Aunt Clara. I am sure you are grateful to him. He is always pointing out to you institutions where money may be safely bestowed. Ill health, which makes most people selfish, has not been able to spoil my nephew. James. Poor Robert, he is certainly a martyr to indisposition, (struck hy an idea, r. c. above sofa) Do you think. Aunt Clara, that the air of Norwood really agrees with him? Aunt Clara. I have not noticed that his health grows any worse. James, (eagerly) Oh yes, it does. He pines, Aunt Clara, positively pines for a more bracing air. The East coast, for instance ! Aunt Clara. Ah, James, always considerate. (complacently) But Eobert will never go any- where where he cannot constantly come and see me. That I am sure of. Indeed it would not be good for him, he has so few distractions. James. (depressed) That's true. (icalks doicn R. and turns, brightening again) But why shouldn't you go, too, Aunt Clara? I'm sure it can't be a good thing for you to remain in one place for so long together. Don't you think a change would do you good? Aunt Clara, (virtuously) I was never a gad- about. And I disapprove of this modern mania for change. Besides with only my little an- nuity 12 THE TWO MR. WBTHERBYS. James. {interrupting eagerly) Yes, yes, I know. (crosses to l. of Aunt C.) But for Robert's sake? You might take him with you, and of course I should be delighted to contrib- ute — Aunt Clara, (patting his shoulder affection- ately) No, no, James. Your heart is ever gener- ous, but in this case there is really no necessity. The air here suits me excellently, and Robert is quite as well as can be expected. Besides there is Margaret to be thought of. I could not leave her! James. I'll look after Margaret, (hack to fireplace) Aunt Clara. I am sure you would. I know how devoted you are to her. But Margaret likes to have her own family about her. James, (ruefully) So she does, (crosses to writing-table u, sits) Aunt Clara, (affectionately) So you mustn't think any more about this. It was generous of you to propose it, but I am quite contented here. Living in your house, James, with Robert and Constantia coming in every day, I have everything that I need for happiness, (wipes tear from her eye) Ah, here is Robert. (Enter Robert r.^ a cadaverous shambling man of five and thirty.) Robert, (nods to James) Good morning, Aunt Clara, .(shakes hands) You weren't down for lunch. Aunt Clara. No, I had a little soup in my room, I had a bad night. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 13 Robert, (sitting on settee h. c. gloomily) Ah, my insomnia is chronic. Aunt Clara, (bravely) But we must not complain. On the whole my health is wonder- fully good. Robert. I wish I could say that. After the Otaheite mission meeting last night I felt posi- tively faint. Aunt Clara. Did you see James? Robert. No, was he there? Aunt Clara. Of course. You know his inter- est in Otaheite. James, (hastily) Oh, in a large meeting like that it is so easy to miss a face. Robert, (in a hard voice) I shouldn't have called it a large meeting. James, (hurriedly) Relatively large! Of course it wasn't crowded. Robert. I should think not. Why, there were scarcely a hundred people there. James, (judicially) Indeed? I should have thought more than a hundred, (to Aunt C, u>ith rapid change of suiject) Shall I begin to read to you again, Aunt Clara? Aunt Clara. Not now, thank you, it is almost time for my walk. Robert. By the way, James, I have here an appeal for a good object which may well claim your support. The Mahommedan Conversion Fund. A most deserving field, (produces paper from pocket) James, (irritably) Oh, come, I hardly think 14 THE TWO MR. WETHEEBYS. we need go as far as the Mahommedans to find a deserving object. Robert. I don't see that. After all Arabia is nearer than Otahite. James, (indifferently) I dare say. Robert. And as you took the trouble to go to the meeting last night — I can't think how' I came to miss you there, by-the-bye, where were you sit- ting? — I should have thought James, {rising hastily and going over to him c.) My dear fellow, you're quite right. Convert- ing the Mahommedans is a most useful field. Leave me that paper and I'll look through it. (takes paper and walks up b.) (Enter Margaret b. u. e. vnth Aunt Clara's Ion- net and shawl.) Hullo, Maggie. Been lying down? (kisses her.) Margaret. For half an hour, (to Aunt C.) The sun is shining brightly now. Aunt Clara. Hadn't you better have your walk? (behind table) Aunt Clara. I hardly feel up to it. James, (going to her l. of her chair) Oh yes, I really think you should, just a turn or two in the garden, (helps her to rise) Aunt Clara. Very well, perhaps a few steps. (is helped into bonnet and shawl) And which of my dear nephews shall escort me? (beam- ing) James, I think. Jambs (hastily) No, no. Aunt. Robert shall go with you while I look through this Mahom- medan Appeal. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 15 Aunt Clara (much touched at this fresh evi- dence of self denial) Ah, James, always willing to deny yourself. Come, Robert. Robert, {rising heavily) Very well. Per- haps a gentle walk will do me good. {Exit Aunt Clara to garden supported ty Robert.) (Margaret escorts hoth as far as window. James with a sigh of relief goes to writing-tahle l. with Mahommedan Appeal, eyes it with strong disfavour, glances at a page or two, then with a wry face takes out cheque hook and writes cheque. Margaret returning from window goes to him, and noticing his depression, lays hand on shoulder.) Margaret. Tired, dear? {behind James) James. A little. {There is a pause, during ichich Margaret pats James affectionately on shoulder while he fidgets with paper knife, etc.) James {diffidently) Don't you think, Mag- gie, that Aunt Clara might sometimes go and stay with someone else? Margaret. {puzzled) Whom can she stay with? James, {hopelessly) That's just it, whom indeed ! Margaret. You see she has no one except us — and Constantia. James. That wouldn't be much change for her! Constantia's always here anyhow. 16 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. Margaeet. (gently) Not much change cer- tainly. (There is another perceptible pause.) James, (tcith an effort) Well then, Robert? Don't you think he might come rather less fre- quently ? Margaret. My dear ! He only comes to lunch- eon occasionally. James. Half a dozen times a week. Margaret. No, no, James, only three or four. James. Is that all? It seems oftener! Margaret, (kneels hy him, fondling his hair) What's the matter with you, dear? You seem out of spirits. James, (taking her hand and pressing it) It's nothing. Only we never seem to get any time to ourselves, do we? Margaret. Not very much, perhaps. James. And it would certainly be more com- fortable if we did, eh, little girl? (looking up at her face) Margaret, (gently) But we mustn't think only of comfort, must we? James. What an angel you are! (takes her hand and kisses it) (Enter Servant r. u. e.) Servant. Mrs. Richard Wetherby. James. Confound '. (Enter Constantia, an imposing figure, hand- somely dressed in Mack, rather as if she had THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 11 gone into half mourning to mark her sense of her separation from her husband.) Margaret, (putting hand over his mouth) Hush! {rises to greet her sister) Good after- noon, Connie, (kisses her) (They meet r. c. Constantia crosses h. c. after kissing Margaret.) Jambs. (rising) How are you? (shakes hands.) 'Constantia. (in her elaborate manner) Thank you, James, I am tolerably well. Has Richard arrived yet? James. Not yet. Constantia. I am glad of that. I would rather be here to receive him. I shall feel more at home. (James makes a face, which Margaret observes, and turns up r. c. to garden window.) Margaret. Aunt Clara is in the garden. James, (hurriedly) Yes. She has just gone out with Robert, (insinuatingly) Oughtn't you to go and say " How do you do" to her? Constantia. Very wel'. Perhaps I had better do so. I shall not be long, (going up l. c.) Jambs, (as soon as she is out of the room) Pray don't hurry. (Exit Constantia c. to garden.) (There is a third significant pause during which Margaret crosses down r. and sits c. James 18 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. crosses to settee c, repossesses himself of Ms wife's hand, and sits down ty her quietly.) (Reflectively) I suppose it wouldn't be possible to get Constantia to move, would it? Margaret. Move? James. Yes, go away from Norwood alto- gether. Margaret. Oh no, she likes being near us. James (gloomily) I was afraid so. Margaret, (kissing him) How silly you are this afternoon. I've never seen you like this be- fore. Why shouldn't Connie live near us? James, (petulantly) Why should she? Why doesn't she go and live with her husband like other women? Margaret. With Richard? But you know her principles. James, (hored) Here's another of them. Margaret, (not understanding) What dear? James, (recovering himself) Nothing. Only I seem to have heard rather a lot about principles to-day. Margaret. As a member of the married wo- man's Protection League, Constantia naturally has a high ideal of a husband's duty to his wife. A very high 'ideal. So has Aunt Clara. So has Robert. James. They're a remarkably unanimous fam- iiy. Margaret. Constantia would have considered it vjrong to condone Richard's infidelity. James. There was no proof that Dick was unfaithful. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 19 Margaret. What other explanation could there be of his late hours, his constant absences from home? James. Was he ever asked to explain them? Margaret. Of course. Constantia never al- lowed Richard to be out after midnight without demanding an explanation. She felt it to be her duty. Jambs. What did Dick say? Margaret. He laughed at her. (James shows a tendency to laugh also) Jim! I believe you're laughing too! James. Well, the interviews must have been rather comic. Constantia proclaiming the rights of women and the wickedness of husbands, and old Dick grinning away on the hearthrug, {be- gins to laugh again) Margaret, (shocked) Oh, Jim! I never thought you would make a joke of such a thing. James, [pulling himself up) No! No! Dick didn't behave at all well. Still I think Constan- tia might have managed him better. Margaret. Constantia never attempted to manage her husband. She had too much sense of her own dignity. She merely insisted upon her rights. James. Rather a maddening attitude that? Margaret. Richard was in fault. James. Perhaps there were faults on Constan- tia's side as well? Margaret, (pained) Oh, Jim, I thought you never judged people harshly. 22 THE TWO MR. WBTHERBYS. (kisses her) Of course you mustn't. Dine in town by all means. I'll make your excuses to Dick, and we'll go round to the club after dinner and play billiards. There, dear, I'm sorry I was cross. I suppose I'm out of sorts or something, (cross to table l.) Margaret, (crosses to l. caressing Mm) Poor Jim! You won't mind dining alone with him, will you? James. Of course not, he won't eat me. Be- sides I shall have Aunt Clara ! Margaret. Yes, I was forgetting Aunt Olara. Jambs. Happy woman! (sits l.) Margaret. (laugMng) You're evidently not well at all. I shall send for Dr. Long, and he'll give you some horrid medicine. That Otaheite meeting w,as over ever so late last night. I ex- pect that tired you. (They embrace. Enter by window Constantia, Aunt Clara and Robert. Eopert enters be- hind Aunt Clara^ who leans on Constantia's left arm. Me stands by the window gloomily observing the embrace, then moves doum r. Margaret moves the armchair a little l. Con- stantia^ after depositing Aunt Clara, comes down L. c. to settee. .Margaret goes up to win- dow) James, (ruefully) Interrupted again! (rises, and crosses r. c.) (Constantia seats herself on settee c. Aunt Clara in armchair l. The latter resumes her crochet, Robert moons about.) THE TWO MR. WBTHERBYS. 23 Robert, (e. looking at watch) Half-past four. Time for tea. Jambs, (r. c.) Dick will be here directly. Robert, (unctuously) I'm afraid this will be a very painfjil meeting for all of us. James. That reminds me. I expect, Constan- tia, you'd rather have your interview with Rich- ard in private? (to Constantia standing 'be- tween her and Robert) Robert, (interrupting) I hardly think James. My dear Robert, will you kindly allow Constantia to decide for herself? (to Constan- tia) Well? Constantia. Thank you, James, I think that will certainly be the best arrangement. James. Very well, then, (crosses l. below fire- place and stands back to fire — rings bell) Jane shall show Dick into the library. Margaret and I will go there and give him some tea. You, Aunt Clara and Robert will have tea here. After tea I will bring Dick here and leave you to have your talk with him in private. (Enter Jane.) When Mr. Richard comes show him into the library, and let me know. Jane. Very well, sir. (Ewit.f Robert. You are sure you would not rather have someone at hand? Constantia. Pray do not be ridiculous, Robert. I trust I am able to conduct an inter- 24 THE TWO MR. WBTHERBYS. view with my husband without outside assist- ance. James, (l.) Of course! And I hope the re- sult will be to bring you togiether again. (CONSTANTIA J)OWS Coldly.) Aunt Clara. James! James, {hastily) That is, of course, if you are conscientiously able to forgive him. Robert, (rises — grunts) By the way, James, about that Mahommedan Appeal James, (impatiently) Oh yes, I've looked through it. There's a cheque in my pocket some- where, (cross R. c.) Here it is. (hands it to him R.) Robert, (sitting, after examining the amount) Thank you, James, I felt sure the good work would find a supporter in you. James, (r. c.) Yes, yes, of course. Always glad to do what I can. (cross to l. c.) (Front door is heard.) Ah, that must be Dick. Ready, Maggie? (to Constantia) Then you will see Dick alone here in say ten minutes. (Maid enters.) Maid. Mr. Richard is in the library, sir. James. Very well, (moves up l. c.) Take him some tea and bring some here. Come, Maggie. (Exeunt Margaret and James.) Aunt Clara, (seated hy fireplace) It must THE TWO MR. WBTHERBYS. 25 be very painful for dear James to meet his brother in these distressing circumstances. If only Richard were more like him. But the two brothers are quite different! {shakes her head mournfully) Robert. Richard is by nature incurably frivo- lous and vicious. CoNSTANTiA. (calmly) I do not think any- thing is to be gained by exaggerating my hus- band's failings. (Enter Jane with tea. Moves table a little l. c. puts tea on table l. c. and brings down chair from up L. and puts it behind table.) There was always a regrettable levity about his behaviour which showed a tendency to increase with years. And, of course, his moral character is scandalous, {goes over to tea-table) But, these defects are not necessarily incurable. Tea, Aunt Clara? Aunt Claea. Thank you. CoNSTANTiA. Take this to Aunt Clara, Robert. (Robert rises heavily from chair, gets tea and crosses l. up stage.) Aunt Clara. I am afraid Richard's disposi- tion always lacked the note of seriousness which is so beautiful in James, {takes tea) — Thank you, Robert — I remember people used to joke about it. They called Richard " The bad Mr. Wetherby " and James " The good Mr. Wether- by." 26 THE TWO MR. WETHBRBYS. (Robert stands hy r. of armchair) CoNSTANTiA. I remember. However, our sep- aration will have sobered him, no doubt, {gives Robert Ms tea) Aunt Clara. Let us hope so, my dear. Robert, (taking tread and iutter, and cross- ing c.) Have you made up your mind what at- titude to adopt towards him? If I might advise I should urge that you receive his advances with the utmost reserve, {sitting settee c.) Aunt Clara. Yes, Robert is right. Do not allow your heart to betray you into any course which your reason would not approve. Constantia. {calmly helping herself to cake) I think you may count on me not to err in that direction. Aunt Clara. I am glad to hear it. Modern wives are far too ready to forgive their husbands. It is the cause of many unhappy homes. Constantia. {calmly) I did not say I shall not forgive Richard. Aunt Clara. My dear! Constantia. On the contrary. It is my in- tention to forgive him this afternoon, after he has duly expressed contrition and asked for for- giveness. Aunt Clara. But can you be sure that his repentance is sincere? Constantia. {philosophically) Of course there can be no certainty in these things. But I see every reason why it should be. He must have felt our separation acutely. In the early THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 27 days of our marriage Richard was by no means without tenderness. Robert, (in a hollow voice) Constantia, is this wise? (he takes iread and butter) Constantia. I think so. After all, Richard is my husband. And I have not found my posi- tion since I decided to live apart from him alto- gether an agreeable one. Socially indeed it has great inconveniences, {rises and takes Aunt Clara's cup and places it on tray^seating her- self again) More tea, Aunt? AuWT Clara, {putting dovM cup with ges- ture of dissent) Well, my dear, of course you must do what your conscience tells you to be right. Constantia. Exactly. I shall not pardon him too quickly. I shall just yield gradually to his protestations. {Eats some cake delicately) After all, a year is a long time and it is better to err on the side of leniency, {pours herself out more tea) A year ago, I felt obliged to leave Richard — I could not endure his heartless be- haviour. Indeed a wife who condones her hus- band's irregularities, is wanting in her duty. And at the time I intended never to return to him. But, one must not be vindictive. And the position of a woman who is separated from her husband is not a comfortable one. It has all the disadvantages of widowhood without its compen- sations. Yes, on the whole I think Richard has been punished long enough. More tea, Robert? Robert, {rises, and bringing his cup) I 28 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. fear you are leaning unduly towards mercy. (Pause) I greatly fear it. ( Const ANTiA pours out Robert's tea. Re takes it and sits again c. taking tread and hutter.) CoNSTANTiA. I am willing to take the risk. At least I shall feel that I have done -what is right in forgiving my husband. Besides there are practical matters to be considered, the loss of income and so forth. When I left Richard I had to move into a smaller house and make other heavy sacrifices. The allowance he makes me, though suflScient, is considerably smaller than the income I enjoyed as his wife. Aunt Clara. I don't think you must allow that to weigh with you. After all what is money? Robert. (unctuously) What indeed! (he takes more hread and iutter) Constant: A. (frigidly) My dear Robert, of course I am above all sordid considerations in this matter. I shall do what I consider right in any circumstances. But there is no use in shut- ting one's eyes to things. Aunt Clara, (dismally) Well, well, my dear. I trust you will not find you have made a mistake. CoNSTANTiA. (coldly) I do uot usually make mistakes, I believe. I shall forgive Rich- ard this afternoon after he has expressed his re- gret in suitable terms. Of course I shall speak to him very seriously and caution him as to his future conduct. But afterwards I shall forgive him. THE TWO MR. WETHBRBYS. 29 (Enter Margaret r.) Margaret, (at door) Richard will come to you now, Connie, if you are ready to see him. CoNSTANTiA. Very well, (pours herself out some tea) Margaret, (going to Aunt Clara and helping her to rise) Come, Aunt Clara. Let me take you to your room, (to Robert) I think you had better go now, Robert. Robert. Certainly, (putting cup on chiffo- nier R. and finishing bread and Gutter) (Exit Robert sulkily.) Margaret, (at door) Jim will bring Rich- ard to you in a minute or two. (Exit R. with Aunt Clara.) (CoNSTANTiA puts dotcn her cup directly they leave, rises, hut hearing voices, sits on settee c. There is an appreciable pause. Then enter R. James and Dick. The latter is a handsome, careless, jovial loolcing man of five and thirty, very cheerful and quite at his ease.) Dick, (going up to Constantia and shaking hands) How do you do, Con. Pretty well, I hope? Constantia. Thank you. I ara quite well. Dick, (cheerfully) That's right. James, (at door) Now I'll leave you two to- gether. You may have things to talk of alone. (going) 36 THE TWO MR. WBTHBRBYS. Dick. Not at all, my dear fellow. Stay by all means. Con and I have njo secrets. James, (awkwardly) But I think — (going again) Dick, (up c.) Nonsense, Jim. Sit down. What on earth should we have to talk about? Don't be absurd. James, (still going) Oh, but — Constantia said she would prefer to speak to you alone. Dick. Ah, that's different. If Gon has any- thing private to say to me I'm agreeable. I al- ways am. Off with you. I say what time's din- ner? (goes up to James e.) James. Seven. By the way, Margaret asks you to excuse her. She has to dine out. Dick. All right, (nods cheerily to James who goes out r.) Well, Con, what have you got to say to me, eh ? Constantia. (with dignity) Have you noth- ing to say to me, Elehard? Dick. (e. c.) I think not. Nothing special. Constantia. Then I hardly see the object x)f this meeting. Dick, (cheerily) Nor do I. But you ar- ranged it, you know. Constantia. (stiffly) Pardon me! Dick. No? Ah yes, I remember. You sug- gested every six months. I thought once a year quite suflBcient. You see I was right. (Cross behind settee l. c.) Constantia. (majestically) This is not an occasion for levity. THE TWO MR. WETHEHBYS. 31 Dick. My remafk was not intentionally hu- mourous. {There is a pause during which Constantia shows signs of impatience. Dick^ quite at his ease, strolls over to fire and warms himself. Pres- ently he takes up framed photograph of James which stands conspicuously on mantelpiece.) I say, what a beastly picture of old Jim ! Don't you think so? (holds it up) Constantia. {icily) It seems to me a sat- isfactory likeness. Dick. No, it's so smug and solemn. Poor old chap, I expect he has a pretty boring time of it down here, eh ? Constantia. {with elaborate sarcasm) I have not heard him complain. Dick. I dare say not. He's a patient sort of chap is old Jim. {Shakes his head at photograph as he puts it track on mantelpiece. Then seats himself in arm chair. There is another awkward pause.) Dick. By the way, do" you still like living in Norwood, Con? Ghastly sort of place I used to think it. Constantia. It suits me well enough. I like to be near Margaret and James. Dick. Ah! Do they like that? Constantia. Certainly. Dick. Oh! {a pause) You're tolerably con- tented then, take it all together? 32 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. (CONSTANTIA hows.) That's right. So am I. CoNSTANTiA. Of couFse a wife who is separ- ated from her husband can never be very happy. Dick:. No doubt. But a husband who isn't separated from his wife can be tolerably miser- able too. CoNSTANTiA. Yes, marriage is a tragedy. Dick. Just so, with comic relief. CoNSTANTiA. {impatiently) Pray be serious. Dick. My dear Con, I never am serious. Why on earth should I be? : CONSTANTIA. Dou't you Understand that by Jadbpting this frivolous tone you are letting a golden opportunity slip? Dick. No., Hang me if I do. CONSTANTIA. (Hstng with dignity) Then no good can come of our continuing this interview. Dick, [rising also) Of course not. What did you expect? CoNSTAisfTiA. (exasperated) I expected that you would at least have seen the propriety of ex- pressing regret for your past conduct and prom- ising amendment in the future. Dick. What would have been the use of that? CONSTANTIA. (Utterly) Oh, nothing. Noth- ing that interests you at all, I suppose. Only it might have led to a reconciliation between us. Dick, (ly fire, raising his eyeirows) I see. (delilerately) I confess that possibility had not occurred to me ! CONSTANTIA. (Stiffly) Indeed! THE TWO MR. WETHbUBYS. S3 Dick, (politely) Still it's very good of you to suggest it. OoNSTANTiA. [turning, hotly) I did not sug- gest it. Dick. Oh ! I thought you did. CoNSTANTiA. (angrily) What I said was that had you suggested it Dick. Yes, yes, of course. What I should have said was it would have been very good of me to suggest it. No, that's not right either. Still I appreciate the generosity of your offer. CoNSTANTiA. (crossly) I made no offer. Dick. Dear me, I'm afraid I express myself very clumsily. CONSTANTIA. (sttvogely) You certainly do. (sits on settee c.) Dick, (crosses ielow settee to e. c. tlandly) "You must put it down to excess of emotion. When a man has been separated from his wife for a year, and there is a suggestion — if that is the right word — that she might return to his roof he naturally feels it acutely. The affection im- plied in such a proposal — no, not proposal, hy- pothesis — is very moving. CoNSTANTiA. I Said nothing about affection. Dick. But it was surely implied? CoNSTANTiA. (stcmly) No, Richard. Please understand that my — (pauses for word) Dick, (sweetly) Mention? CONSTANTIA. — My mention of a reconciliation was in no way due to affection. Had I returned to you it would have been solely because I con- sidered it my duty. 34 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. Dick, {insimuitinglp) Is that quite, a sat- isfactory foundation for domestic happiness? OoKTSTANTiA. {impatiently) I was not think- ing of happiness. {There is a pame.) Dick, (calmly) Well, Con, I won't ask you to make such a sacrifice. CoNSTANTiA. (virtuously) I don't mind sac- rificing myself. Dick, (quietly) Ah! 7 do! CoNSTANTiA. (rising angrily) Then there's nothing more to be said. Dick, (holding out hand) Except "good- bye " COn — till next year. (CONSTANTIA Tcfuses hand and sweeps out e. with dignity. Dick stands looking after her with a grim smile. The front door closes sharply.) CURTAIN. H O The two MR. WETHERBYS. 35 ACT II. Scene. — The Dining-room at the James Weth- ERBYs'. Dinner is half over. At the table in the middle of stage are Aunt Clara^ facing audience, Jambs at one end, Dick at the other. The side of table next the audience is empty. The room is the conventional surburban din- ing-room, windows curtained behind Aunt Clara. Sideboard behind Dick l. Fireplace flanked by two leather easy chairs behind James r. Door l. (Pause. The Maid hands two sweets. Jambs, who looks bored and ill, helps Aunt Clara to jelly. Dick helps himself. James refuses.) Dick. My dear chap, you eat nothing, {at- tacks jelly on his plate) Does he, Aunt Clara? Aunt Clara, (coldly) James has never a large appetite. James. I'm not hungry to-night. Dick. That's bad. (filling his mouth) There's nothing like eating! It helps a man through life wonderfully. James. No doubt. Dick. In fact it's very morbid not to eat. It's not at all a thing to give way to. (To Maid) Bring me some more of that. (Helps himself) U THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. Jambs. My dear Dick, what nonsense you talk. Dick. I dare say. If you talked more non- sense you wouldn't look so beastly seedy. Eh, Aunt Clara? {attacks food) Aunt Clara (coldly) I had not noticed that James was looking unwell. Dick. He does though. And he looks beastly serious too. That's bad. A man should never be serious at meals. Indeed I'm not sure he should ever be serious at all. (Maid takes James's and Aunt Clara's sweet plates and puts two cheese plates.) Aunt Clara. Eeally Eichard! Considering the solemn cause which brought you here to- day— Dick. Yes, Constantia is solemn, isn't she? That's why we didn't get on. (Maid changes plates, etc.,. during this scene, afterwards hands Mscuits and cheese.) Aunt Clara, (severely) It is a pity you are not more like her. (Maid gives Dick cheese plate.) Dick. That's what I never can understand about you solemn people. You're all propagan- dists. You're not only as solemn as owls your- selves — you want everybody else to be solemn too. James. Oh come, you were preaching the vir- tue of talking nonsense just now. Dick. So I was. But only to you, Jim. THE TWO MR. WETHBRBYS. 37 (Takes cheese, which the other two refuse.) You see I like you. But Aunt Clara doesn't like me. [to Aunt Claea) Oh, no you don't. So why on earth she should want to convert me to anything I don't know, [eats his cheese and Ms- cuit) Aunt Clara. I do not expect you to appre- ciate my motives. (Dick grins.) James. Aunt Clara means that you aren't an altruist, Dick. (Maid removes plates, brushes cloth and puts on dessert during this scene, then Exit.) Dick. No, I'm not. But I've got a good tem- per and a rattling good digestion. That's enough for me. Jambs. Is this the way you used to talk to Constantia? Dick. Yes. James. Then I don't wonder she left you. (Dick laughs.) Aunt Clara, (rising) I cannot be a wit- ness to any more of this levity. Dick, (genially) Don't go. Aunt Clara. Stay till after dessert. Aunt Clara. No, I will not — I never eat des- sert at night. James, give me your arm. 38 THE TWO MK. WETHBRBYS. (James and Dick loth rise. Dick opens door. James helps Aunt Clara out hy door l. When he returns Dick is back in his chair, cracMng nuts and pouring himself out a glass of port.) James. What a brute you are, Dick! You've made Aunt Clara furious. Dick. Very sorry, my dear chap. I did my best to amuse her. James, (grimly) Well, you didn't succeed. She's gone straight to bed in a tearing rage. Dick. Fiery old lady! Nuts, Jim? James. No, thanks. Dick, (talcing some more, then looking at James keenly but kindly) My dear old man, what's the matter? You really do look awfully pulled down. James. Nothing. We were rather late last night. Perhaps it's that. Dick, (laughing softly to himself) Yes. How did you account for the fact here? James, (with a wry face) As usual — Mis- sionary Meeting — I nearly got found out, by the way. Dick. How was that? James. That fool Robert. He was there too. It wasn't a crowded house apparently, and he can't make out how he didn't spot me. (Dick laughs more.) That's right! (unth a snarl) Laugh away! I suppose it is funny — to you. Dick. I should think it was. James. It isn't to me. It makes me sick. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS,,. 39 Fancy a man of my age who has to pretend to his wife that he's been to a cursed missionary meeting because he can't tell her he was amusing himself at your club playing cards. Dick. Why didn't you tell her? James, (crossly) How can I? She'd never forgive me. Margaret's a dear little girl and she's awfully fond of me, but she's tremendously strict in her ideas. Besides I've got such a confoundedly high character to live up to. If I were just an ordinary person, I dare say she wouldn't be so much shocked. Margaret's not a fool. But she's got it into her head that I'm a sort of saint, and to please her, I've got into the habit of pretending to be one, and now I can't give it up. Was there ever such a beastly tangle ! Dick. Why not make a clean breast of it? James. I can't, I tell you. It would be bad enough merely to have to tell her that I'm not the good young man they all think me down here. But I should have to own that I'd been deceiv- ing her almost ever since our marriage. She'd never be able to respect me again, and I should never be able to respect myself. {Utterly) In- deed, I can't do that now. Dick. My dear chap, you take the whole thing too seriously. (Door opens — enter Maid.) James. Hush ! here's coffee. {Coffee is handed — exit Maid.) Dick, {reflectively) It must be a curious 40 THE TWO MR. 'WETHERBYS. thing being so highly thought of — especially by one's wife ! Jambs, (crossly) Well, you needn't sneer at it. Dick. I wasn't. Still it seems odd — to me. What did they think of your asking me down here? James. Aunt Clara was rather shocked. But she puts it all down to my high principles. Dick. How does she manage that? James. I'm supposed to be such a thoroughly saintly character that I can't judge anyone harshly. Even a beast like you. Dick. Ho ! Ho ! Jambs. Yes. That's one advantage in having a good reputation. Whatever you do, people al- ways attribute it to the loftiest motives. If you ask a fellow who's a bad lot to dinner, it's sup- posed to be because you've such a forgiving dis- position, You can't say that! Dick. I don't want to, my dear fellow. And after all, a bad reputation and a good reputation amount to pretty much the same thing in the end. James, (disgusted) I'm hanged if they do. Dick. Oh yes. You can dine with whom you please because you've such a high character. I can dine with whom / please because I've no character at all. My position is every bit as good as yours. Indeed, I prefer it. (takes cigar and pushes case across to James) James, (shocked) Ah, you've no conscience. Dick. No. Have you a match? THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 41 James. Here you are. (gets match-box from mantelpiece) Dick. Won't you smoke? • James. No. Margaret doesn't like it. Dick. Poor chap! (lights cigar) By the way, don't you find the high moral game rather fatiguing? James, (sighing) Sometimes. Dick. I thought so. That's why you're look- ing so fagged. James, (complainingly) And yet I'm not naturally a hypocrite. I'd like to be as straight- forward as the day. But circumstances were against me. When I fell in love with Margaret, I really did give up all the old bachelor ways. She was so good, (enthusiastically) so wonder- fully good and sweet, and I determined I'd be like her. For a time, I was like her. It was up- hill work, but I was. (Dick grins.) What are you grinning at? Dick. Nothing. Go on. James. Of course she thought me a perfect saint. I was a perfect saint, in fact. And so we were married and came to live down here. And after a time — six months or so — I found I couldn't keep it up. I wanted amusement. But by that time I was saddled with my ghastly rep- utation. And I've been groaning under it ever since. Dick. Much better have told her. James, (irritably, fidgeting with cigar case 42 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. which remains on tahle all through scene) I couldn't. Margaret believed in me; so did they all. I couldn't undeceive them. It would have been simply brutal. Dick. So you took to hypocrisy. James, (savagely) Oh well, you needn't get virtuous over it. Dick, (calmly) Not at all, my dear chap. James. (grumUing) It isn't as if I'd been anything very bad. I'm not a vicious man. I only wanted to amuse myself, Music Halls, an occasional race meeting, a game of cards at the club. If she'd only thought me just an ordinary sort of chap, I'd have told her fast enough. But with my character! Good Lord! Dick. You'd much better have adopted my system, (rises, cross r.) James, (snappishly) Your system! Dick. You needn't sniff at it. It's a lot better than yours. James. What is your system? Dick, (getting up from table) It's very sim- ple. And it's based upon the easiest of all the virtues — Truth ! James. Pshaw ! Dick. Oh, yes it is. (goes over to fire, selects armchair and seats himself lazily) I hate pre- tending things. It's such a fag. So I've gone in for' perfect frankness. In fact, I may say I've carried frankness to a fine art. James. What rot! Dick. 'Tlsn't rot at all, my dear chap, and so you'd have found if you'd tried it. Truth's a THE TWO MR. WETHBRBYS. 43 splendid thing in married life. It keeps a home together wonderfully. Jambs, (sarcastically) You seem to have found it so ! Dick, (easily) Oh, it sometimes breaks one up too. But it's awfully useful either way. James. I'm glad you think so. Dick. You see in marriage what one has to aim at is a quiet life. Tou tried to get it by pre- tending to be as good as Margaret thought you. That wasn't very successful. I tried to get it by never pretending anything at all. The result has exceeded my most sanguine expectations. James, (ironically) You're easily satisfied. Dick. That's my beautiful nature! After I married Constantia, I found she hadn't the same ideals as I had, not the same ideals at all. James. Your ideals! Dick. Come, my dear chap, your ideals haven't shown up particularly well. As I was saying, Con and I wanted different things. She liked regular hours, church on Sunday, afternoon tea parties,- bazaars, that ass Eobert and his sub- scription lists, Aunt Clara and her crochet — by the way, how do you like Aunt Clara? James. Hang Aunt Clara! (rises irritally and begins to put WWay decanters, etc., in a rest- less manner into sidehoard l.) Dick, (blandly) That's ' exactly what / said. Well, I soon realised that either Constantia's view of life must prevail or mine. I rebelled, late hours, golf on Sundays, no tea parties, no bazaars, no Robert, no Aunt Clara. Before long 44 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. I had established a reputation as a complete libertine and was allowed to do as I pleased. James. I remember. Your conduct was dis graceful. Dick. Not at all, my dear fellow. I never did anything bad, I'm no more vicious than you are. My bad reputation is as hollow as your good one. We're both frauds together. James, (impatiently) Anyhow Constantia believed you were vicious. Dick. Yes. That was part of my system. In this world, Jim, if you aren't always going about saying you're very good, people end by. believing you're very bad. That was what happened to me with Constantia. Jambs, (crosses to r. of table, leaning against chair) You deceived her then. Dick. No, Constantia deceived herself. (airily) I took no interest at all in the matter. James, (scornfully) Well, the result was a pretty abject fiasco. Dick. Fiasco! Why it was a triumph! Con- stantia sulked for six months and then announced her intention of leaving me. For once my perfect candour deserted me. I feigned distress. But it would scarcely have been decent to do otherwise, eh? (James makes inarticulate murmur of repro'ha- tion.) Bo one auspicious day the lawyers were called in, an amicable separation was arranged, the parties THE TWO MR. WBTHERBYS. 45 to meet once a year. And that's what brought me here to-day. James, (indignantly) I think it's perfectly shameful. Dick, (laughing) Oh, come, look after the beam in your, own eye, old man, and leave me my little mote. James, (disgusted) Don't joke about it. You're always joking. Dick. That's why I keep so jolly well. (rises, pushes James) (James hegins to laugh, finally 'bursts into a roar.) That's right, laugh away, old man, and thank Heaven this deadly lively place hasn't robbed you of the faculty, (walks to l. of table) (From this point to end of scene Jambs grows in- creasingly cheerful and his gloom quite disap- pears. He goes over to fireplace and takes other armchair) James, (crosses and sitting below fireplace) But don't you feel any remorse? Think of Con- stantia. You've ruined her life. Dick. Not a bit of it. I know Constantia. She's as happy as possible. She doesn't know it, but she is. She's a good woman and she's got a grievance. What more can she want? James. Still you made her life miserable while you were together. Dick. Well, she made my life miserable too — at least she did her best. We're quits. Jambs. Quits ! Ha, ha ! I remember that's 46 THE TWO MR. WBTHBRBYS. what I said to Maggie. Do you know, Dick, I hoped you two might patch things up this after- noon and live together again? Dick. No, thank you. I've no ill feeling to- wards Con. I even like her in a way. But I'm not going to live with her. Con is one of those characters who are much more admirable when you aren't married to them, {crosses hack to armchair aiove fireplace and sits) James. You're quite happy as you are? . Dick. Quite! I sleep well, eat well — you don't, Jim — I make no pretence of being better than I am. Bather the contrary. And I find the world a very pleasant amusing place. James. I wonder how you two ever came to marry ? Dick, (shrugging shoulders) Lunacy, I sup- pose! We haven't a taste in common. Constan- tia has no sense of humour. She likes solemn asses like Robert. I don't. By the way, I sup- pose you see a good deal of Robert? (Jambs nods laughing.) I thought so. And Aunt Clara ? James. She lives with us. Dick. Poor chap! Now, Jim, can you seri- ously imagine my having Aunt Clara to live with me? And Robert dropping in every day? James. I don't think I can. Dick. Why don't you turn them out? James. My character! Dick. Oh, it's that again, is it? James. I'm supposed to be so awfully kind THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 47 and considerate and all that. That's the worst of it. If I were only a brute like you ! Dick, (triumphantly) Now you begin to see the point of having no character. Try it, old man. Try it in your bath, as the advertisements say. James, (ruefully) I can't. I've Margaret to think of. Dick. She'd get over it — if she's really fond of you. James. I daren't face the risk. Dick. You'd better. Jambs, (peevishly) I can't, I tell you. No, I've got to go on in the old way with Aunt Clara permanently on the premises, Robert dropping in to collect subscriptions and Constantia living next door but one. And I've a reputation for amiability. Dick. Poor old chap ! James. 'Tisn't a pretty picture, is it? Dick, (jumping up) Look here, Jim, you want rousing. You're simply perishing of dul- ness. Hang billiards. Let's run up to town for an hour, go to the Empire and amuse ourselves. We can be back by twelve ! (James shakes his head.) Half-past eleven then. Come along, (pulls Mm up out of chair) Why shouldn't we? It'll do you a world of good. Jambs, (wavering) If Margaret heard of it Dick. She won't. After all, 'tisn't the first 48 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. little jaunt you've had with me, without anybody being the wiser. You'll come? (pulls him out of chair by his arm) James, (rising half unwillingly) I'm sure I oughtn't Dick. Bosh, old man ! Come along. I'll look after you. How do the trains go from this con- founded place? James. Pretty often, (looks at watch) We shall catch one now if we hurry, (moves up r.) Dick, (dashing out for hats and coats and returning immediately) Here, get into this. (flings him overcoat) Hurry up. (puts on his own) James. Well, just for an hour. I think I do need shaking up. I feel regularly depressed and out of sorts. Dick, (dashing to tahle and pocketing his cigar case) Boredom, my dear fellow. Strong men have died of it ! (Takes his arm and hurries him out i,. as Curtain falls.) (The Curtain descends for a moment. When it rises again the stage is dark. The scene is the same. Time three hours later. The sound of a latch-key is heard in front door. Then foot- steps in hall — then dining-room door opens let- ting in shaft of light from hall. Enter Mar- garet and Robert. Margeret, turns up elec- tric light, showing dining-room with cloth cleared and biscuits, syphon and glasses on table and whisky decanter on sideboard.) THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 49 Margaret, {up l.) They're not back yet. At least, I don't see Jim's hat and coat. Robert. Where have they gone? (crossing r.) Margaret. To the Club, to play billiards. Robert, (gloomily) They'll be late then. (puts hat and stick on talle) Margaret. I think not. Robert. You don't know Richard! (crosses R. to fireplace) Margaret, (comes down l.) Jim will bring him back in good time. Robert. I wonder if it was wise leaving them together? The influence of a thoroughly de- praved nature like Richard's is very insidious. Margaret. Oh, with Jim's high character— Robert. Of course — Still there's always a risk. Margaret, (with conviction) Not with Jim. (sits L. of table) Robert, (goes to table and takes three or four biscuits which he eats till end of scene by fire- place) It was curious that I did not see James at the Otaheite Meeting last night. Margaret. It's so easy to miss people. Robert. Yes. Still there weren't many there. (pause) Did you see Constantia after her inter- view to-day? Margaret. No. Robert. Then there has not been a reconcili- ation ? Margaret. I have heard of none. Robert. I am glad of that. From what she said this afternoon, I was afraid Constantia was 50 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. inclined to forget the past and return to Richard. It must have been a mere momentary weakness. Margaret. You don't think we should desire a reconciliation? Robert. My dear Margaret, how could we? With our principles! Richard is a libertine. That Constantia should so far forget her duty to morality as to forgive him would be deplorable. Think of the example to other men. If a man who treats his wife as Richard did is not to be pun- ished, there would be an end of married happiness altogether. Margaret. They have been parted for a year. Is not that sufficient punishment? Robert, (severely) Not in my opinion. However deep Richard's repentance, it is too soon to forgive him. Margaret. James thinks otherwise. Robert, (sternly) James is too good-natured. Too good-natured altogether. He is almost lax — yes, lax is the word — he is not severe enough with his brother. Aunt Clara thinks so too. After the separation, he should have set his face against all further relations with him. Margaret. But they're in business together. Robert. Except business relations, of course. But to ask him down to stay under his roof! It was weak, Margaret — I am not sure it was not wicked, (virtuously) Certainly, it is not a thing I shall ever do. Margaret. I suppose not. Indeed I hardly think Richard would come. Robert. He knows my principles too well. THE TWO MR. WBTHERBTS. 51 (Sound of key in front door is heard again. Door slam. Then voices) Margaret. There they are. (rises) Robert, (crossing to tahle and taking up hat and stick) Then I think I'll be going. I do not wish to see more of Richard than I can help. One must not touch pitch ! Margaret, (going up to door and opening it) Is that you, Jim? (James enters with Dick — l)oth have hats and coats) James, (entering) Yes, dear, (kisses her) Hullo, Robert, just oflE? Robert. Yes. It's rather late. Good night. (Ewit L.) Dick. Now I call that very considerate of Robert, (crosses to fireplace, putting coat on tahle) Margaret, (coming down l. c.) (to James) Enjoyed your billiards, dear? James, (coming down l.) Thanks, yes, very much, (throws his overcoat on to Dick^s on table) Margaret. Who was at the Club? Anyone I know? James, (turning away to sideboard) No, I think not. It was rather empty — in fact we saw no one. Margaret, (c.) How strange! I wonder why that was? 52 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. James, {diving into sidehoard for whiskey — slightly confused) Of course we were only in the billiard room. There may have been lots of people in the other rooms. Drink, Dick? {puts spirits, etc., on table) Margaret. I see. Are you going to sit up, dear? James. For a little while. Why? Margaret. Hadn't you better change your coat? James. Oh, bother. I can't go all the way up- stairs, {gives Dick his drink) Margeeet. Give it me, dear. I'm going now, and I'll bring you down an old jacket. {He half protests.) Oh yes, I will. It's no trouble. {Helps him off with dress coat) James. Angel! {kisses her.) Margaret. Goose ! {Exit Margaret.) (James strolls over to f/re.) Dick, {by table watching Jambs, taking out cigar and cutting off end) You're certainly a fluent liar, Jim. James. Yes. {ruefully) I've lots of practice, you see. Dick. Your system, eh? I prefer mine. It's not such a tax on the inventive faculties. James, {half bitterly) Just you wait till you're as fond of any one as I am of Margaret, THE TWO MR. WETHBRBYS. 53 and you'll find yourself lying with the best of them. Pick. Pessimist ! (Margaret enters with old jacket, James goes up to meet her, Dick crosses to and stands hy fire- place) Margaret. Here you ape, dear, {helps him into it) Don't be late. James, (hisses her) Of course not. Good night. Margaret. Good night, (kisses Mm) Good night, Richard. (Exit with little nod.) Dick, (walks down l.) I'm afraid dear Mar- garet hasn't as warm a regard for me as I de- serve. Jambs, (coming to fireplace) I should have thought she managed that! Dick, (turning) Bravo! You're quite epi- grammatic to-night. Wonderful what a differ- ence an evening's escape from domesticity makes. James. Sour grapes, my boy. You weren't happy at home so you want to pretend no one else is, Dick, (crosses, sits l. of tahle c.) Oh, come, don't pretend you haven't enjoyed yourself to- night. When Kitty Harding was singing " Keep your feet off the grass, dearest," you laughed till I thought you'd have a fit. S4 THE Two MR. WbTHERBYS. James, (giggling at the recollection) What a clever little beast she is ! Dick. A^d that fellow who danced! What was the beggar's name? James, {pause while thinking) I forget. I've got the programme in my coat, {goes to overcoat on table and feels in pockets) Where the deuce is it? {an awful pause, during which a look of terror comes into his face) Good heav- ens ! I believe it's in the pocket of my dress coat. {searches frantically) Dick, {comes down r. — placidly) It doesn't matter. We'll look in the morning. James. But my wife's got it. {throws coat into armchair down e.) Dick. So she has. But she's not likely to fer- ret in the pockets I suppose. James. Yes, she will. She always folds my things if they're lying about, and takes every- thing out of the pockets. Dick, {jumping up and coming to him down K.) What a way to treat a wife! Run upstairs at once. You may get there before she's found it. James, {pale with terror) But what can I do? She'd want to know what I came up for. Dick. Say you've left your handkerchief in the pocket— invent something as you go upstairs. You're a better liar than I am. Off with you! {pushes him across to c. and goes to fireplace) James. I daren't! Suppose she's found it already I Dick. My dear chap, she will if you don't go at once. Pull yourself together. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 55 (James goes to door, opens it and goes out, re- turning immediately and coming to armchair up E.) James {in a hollow whisper) Too late. She's coming downstairs. What on earth's to be done? Dick. Steady, Jim. She may not have found it. James. If she has! Dick, (calmly) Then I should make a clean breast of it if I were you? Jambs. About to-night? Dick. It would be a trifle late to do that ! Jambs-, (ruefully) I suppose it would. Dick. Tell her about everything. Save a lot of trouble in the end. And it'll make things easier for you in the future. James. I daresay you're right. But I simply haven't the pluck. Dick. Nonsense. Hush, here she is. Shall I make myself scarce? James. No. Back me up, for Heaven's sake. Dick. All right. Courage, old man. (leans his hack against mantelpiece and surveys scene) (Door opens enter Margaret — there is a long silence. She stands up l. near the door.) (aside to James) Better say something. James, (in a quavering voice) Do you want anything, dear? (She is still silent, looking at him steadily.) What is it, Maggie? Margaret. (programme in hand — sternly) Se THE TWO MR. WETHEftBYS. Where were you to-night * James, while Robert and I were out? James. Why do you ask such a question? Margaret. Is it such a strange question for a wife to ask? James. I went up to London with Dick. Margaret. Where ? James. To the Empire. {There is an awkward pause.) {aside to Dick) Own up, can't you? Dick, {in his calm tone) It was my sug- gestion, Margaret. I'm the culprit. Margaret, {to Jambs) Why did you go? {He is silent.) Dick. Fact is I thought he needed livening up. A surfeit of missionary meetings Margaret, {icily) I was speaking to my hus- band, {turning again to James) Why did you tell me you went to the Club? James. We did mean to go there. Margaret. But you didn't go? You've not been there at all ? James. No. (Margaret makes gesture of repulsion and walks down L.) Dick. My dear Margaret, don't fret about us! The Empire's a very moral place, far more re- spectable than most clubs. Margaret. I hardly consider you a judge of morality, Richard, {to James) Why did you tell me what was not true? THE Two MR. WETHERBYS. 57 James. I don't know — I suppose because it would have displeased you. Maegaeet. (bitterly) You were very consid- erate ! James, (stung iy her tone — earning down r. *o E c.) Look here, Maggie, there's no use making a fuss about it. It was just a piece of folly, that's all. Maegaeet. Folly! To tell your wife a false- hood ! James, (crossly) Oh well, there's nothing so startlingly original about that. Margaret. I didn't expect to hear a speech of that kind from you, James! With your high character James. Confound my character! Margaret (astonished) An evening in Rich- ard's company seems to have produced its effect. Or is that remark the result of your entertain- ment at a music hall? (James is silent.) Dick, (airily) Oh, I'm the guilty party. The entertainment was irreproachable. Margaret. If you would kindly not interrupt, Richard. (Dick shrugs Ms shoulders.) Well, James, have you anything to say to me? James. Only that I'm sorry, Maggie. I am really. Margaret. Is that all? James, (e. c, goaded) What do you want me to say? I can't do more than apologise, can I? 58 THE TWO MR. WETHBRBYS. The thing's done now. Come, Maggie, shake hands and say you forgive me. {goes c. towards her holding out hand) Margaret. (L. c, refusing hand) No, James, I shall not forgive you. (James falls hacTc.) You have deceived me deliberately. Dick, (shocked) No! No! (moves to r. c.) Margaret. Yes, deliberately, You are not what I thought you, and I will never forgive you. (turns to go, walking up h.) James, (alarmed) Maggie! Margaret, (coldly, turning at door) Have you anything more to say? Dick, (by James c, to him aside) NOw's your time. Make a clean breast of it. You'll be glad of it afterwards. James, (pulling himself together — speaking sharply) Stop, Margaret! (She turns again.) I have something more to say. (She comes down l. again.) Dick, (softly — aside) Bravo, Jim! (lack to fire) Jambs, (c.) Maggie, I've been wanting to tell you this for a long time — (hesitates) Margaret. Go on. (During this scene Margaret gets colder and more angry; James gets more self-possessed.) James. Maggie, I'm — (hesitates) — I'm not THE TWO MR. WETHeRIBYS. 59 what you think me — I'm different — very different, (stops) Margaret. What do you mean? James. You think I'm an awfully gOQd sort of chap, who doesn't care about amusement like other men. You think I'm only happy when I'm attending missionary meetings and reading to Aunt Clara. You're mistaken. Margaret, (sternly) So you weren't at the Otaheite Meeting! Jambs. No, nor the Tobago Diocesan Confer- ence last week, nor the Hairy Ainos Protection Society, nor the Nova Zembla Mission, nor any of them. I don't like missions, they bore me. Margaret, (horrified) James! Jambs. Oh yes, they do. You don't know it, but they do. I've gone on pretending for months that I liked them — and other things — just to please you. I've read Aunt Clara her newspaper and given Robert his subscriptions and generally made my life a burden because you liked it. I've done it long enough. I'm going to turn over a new leaf. Margaret, (icily) And all the time that you were pretending to go to these meetings, you were " amusing " yourself at low music halls, I sup- pose. Dick. Not low music halls. Margaret. Bah ! How you have fooled me ! James, (complacently) Yes, I'm afraid I've not been quite straightforward. But I'm going to reform from to-night. Margaret. How long has this been going on? 60 THE TWO MR. WBTHERBYS. James. I don't know. A year — eighteen moAths. Margaret, (bitterly) And we have only been married two years. James, {almost genially) It was partly your fault, you know. You would put me on a sort of pedestal. Of course I tumbled off. You ought to have expected it. You see your standard was too high for me. I tried to live up to it at first, honestly, I did, but it wasn't a success ; I wasn't strong enough. But I think you ought to share the blame. Margaret. Men always throw the blame on women. James. Only when they deserve it, Maggie. So you see, there's nothing to be angry about. It's just a case of faults on both sides. Shake hands, dear, and give me a kiss, (advances to- wards her) Margaret, (draws lack a pace or two up stage — putting hands behind her back) No, James, I will not shake hands. You have fooled me and cheated me. Our whole married- life has been a sham. James. No, no, Maggie, (goes down l.) Margaret. (above him — fiercely) Yes, a cheat and a sham! (stamps her foot) Oh, how I despise you! How I despise myself for having been deceived by you! Did you ever love me at all, I wonder, (half crying — walking to c.) James. You know I did, dear. Margaret, (turning c, angrily) I know THE TWO MR. WBTHBRBYS. 61 nothing. You deceived me in everything else. Why not in that? James. Never mind, Maggie. Make it up and we'll start afresh to-morrow. Forget about all this; it's past, and I swear I'll always be open with you for the future. I will, really. Margaret. The future! (coldly) You don't suppose I can live with you again affer this. (Dick raises eyebrows.) I should despise myself if I even thought of such a thing. James, {horrified) Maggie! Margaret. No, James, I shall leave this house to-morrow. I am no longer your wife. James, {alarmed) You can't. You have no right. Margaret. Not legally, perhaps. Morally I should do wrong to remain with you. James. I shall not allow you to go. Margaret. How will you prevent me? Oon- stantia left Richard for less. James. {growing more alarmed) Maggie, think ! You're angry with me now. It is natural that you should be. But don't punish me too much. Don't leave me. Give me another chance. Margaret. And be deceived again? 2Vo, James! Indeed I don't think it would be right to forgive you. Men who behave as you have done deserve to suffer. James, {sadly) I didn't expect you would cast me off so readily, Maggie. Margaret. You are unjust. You know how 62 THE TWO MR. WETHBRBYS. I hate to do it. But I must, {almost breaking down) Oh, Jim, Jim, why did you tell me all this? Why didn't you leave me in ignorance? James, (gently) You found me out, dear. Margaret. Only about to-night. I could have forgiven you to-night. It's all these months of deception that I can't forget. James. You will. Maegaebt. {bursting into tears) No. If it was only to-night it would be different, but now that I know your v/hole life has been a lie, I can- not live with you any longer, (with a gulp) Good-bye, James, (solemnly she walks up l. c.) James, (startled) Where are you going? Maegaeet. (through her tears) To b-b-bed. I shall leave this house to-morrow after break- fast. (Exit in a burst of emotion.) (There is a pause during which Dick looks half- humourously at Jambs, who goes half way up to door as if to follow, and then turns, walk- ing down L. c. He looks unutterably de- pressed.) Dick. Curious how much alike sisters are. James, (brusquely) What do you mean? Dick. I remember an almost similar scene a year ago with Constantia. The marriage tie seems to sit loosely on our family. Jambs, (snappishly) I shall be glad if you won't jest about it. Dick, (coming h, c.) Steady, old man. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 63 Don't quarrel with your brother as well as youf wife in one evening. James, {coming c, penitent) I beg your par- don. I'm knocked out of time by all this, (an- grily) But I won't have you sneering at Mar- garet. She's a saint. Dick My dear Jim, to say that a lady re- sembles one's wife isn't usually described as sneering. James, (impatiently) Oh, you know what I mean. Dick, (c, putting his hand on James's shoul- der) Poor old boy, you do take it bad ! (James puts Ms head on his hands and his shoul- ders heave with sol)S.) I say, don't do that for Heaven's sake. Easy, Jim, easy. She won't go, you know. James, (turning away l.) She will, I'm sure she will. You don't know Margaret. Dick. And if she does, there are worse things than being a bachelor again ! James, (laughing in spite of himself) That's right — make a joke about it. Dick. My remark was perfectly serious. (goes to R. of taile.) James, (turning again and coming to h. of table) And the deuce of it all is if I hadn't taken your advice and blurted out the whole story like a fool, she would have forgiven me. James, (grimly) So she said, (pours him- self out another drink) 64 THE TWO MR. 'WETHERBYS. James. And she would too. (crossly) I'll trouble you not to question it. (Dick shrugs his shoulders.) This comes of your cursed policy of candour. After this I'll never speak the truth again as long as I live. Never! QUICK CURTAIN. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 6S ACT III. Scene. — The drawing-room at the Jambs Weth- BRBYS.' The French windows on to garden are open. The sun shines 'brilliantly. (Enter Jambs and Dick, the former looking wretchedly depressed. He goes to fire shiver- ing, and warms hands.) Dick, [strolling up to open window and look- ing out) Jove, what a glorious morning! James. Is it? I hadn't noticed, (l.) Dick. You didn't eat any breakfast. How the deuce is a fellow to notice anything on an empty stomach.? Jambs. I wasn't hungry. Dick. Ah. / was. (turning to him and no- ticing his depression. Then going to him more sympathetically) Fretting, Jim? Jambs. I suppose so. Dick, (affectionately) What a soft-hearted beggar it is. Cheer up. Jambs, (savagely) One would think being about to be separated from one's wife was an every -day occurrence to hear you talk! (crosses to c.) 66 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. Dick, {humouring him) No, no, not quite that. But will she go? That's the question. (L. C.) James. You heard what she said last night. Dick, [easily) Oh, I don't attach much im- portance to that! James, (e. c, Mtterly) I'm afraid I can't share your confidence. Dick. Not seen her to-day? James. No. She wasn't at breakfast, as you saw. Dick, (horrified) Has she had no breakfast either? James. I don't know. Dick, [holding up his hands) What a house- hold! Aunt Clara, too? She wasn't down. I assume she also is fasting? James. She always has breakfast in her room. Dick [cheerfully) I congratulate you. Robert, I suppose you're never safe from? Servant, [announcing) Mr. Robert Carne! Dick, [sitting in armchair — sardonically) Ah, I thought so! [Enter Robert.) James, [crosses r., sulkily) Good morning. Robert. Good morning, James. I thought I should find Margaret here. James. She's not come down yet. Robert. Ah. I'll wait, [sits on ottoman) James. She won't be down for some time. Perhaps you'd better come in later, Robert. I've nothing special to do. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 67 (James makes gesture of despair at Robert's o6- tuseness behind Robert's hack. There is a pause. Then he turns hack to Robert and speaks, hesitating hetiveen each lie and ohvi- ously taxing his powers of invention.) James. She may not be here for an hour. She has a headache. I advise you to go out for a stroll. She may be a long time yet. (r.) Robert, (c.) Well, perhaps I'd better come back. {Exit E.) (James gives a sigh of relief.) Dick. (l.) {looking at James .curiously) My dear Jim, do you never speak the truth? Jambs. Eh? No. {Mtterly) I suppose I've got out of the habit, {sits c.) Dick, {rises and comes c.) Why didn't you kick the beggar out instead of inventing all that rot about Margaret? James. I ought to have done so, I suppose. It would have been more straightforward. But I'm hopelessly demoralised. I can't bear hurting the feelings of anyone, even an ass like Robert. Dick. What a good chap you are ! James, {unth a hitter lau^h) Good! {Enter Margaret, she looks pale as if after a sleepless night. But there is no sign of soften- ing in her face.) {rising and going towards her with outstretched hands) Good morning, Maggie. 68 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. Margaret. Is that you, James? I thought you would have gone up to business by now. (ignores hand.) James, (drops hand to Ms side and turns away) I'm not going. I telegraphed up this morning. They'll let me know if there's anything important. Margaret. I came to collect a few things out of this room, which I should like to take with me. James, (l.) (hopelessly) You. are still re- solved to go? Margaret. Quite, James. James. Where? Margaret. To Constantia in the first instance. I daresay she can find room for me for a time. Afterwards, some arrangement will have to be made between us, I suppose. But the lawyers can see to all that. They did in Constantia's case, did they not? (she looks towards Dick as she says this, hut does not address him directly.) Dick, (cheerily) Oh, yes. They'll manage it all right. In an amicable separation of this kind, they're invaluable. You leave it to them, (at hack) James, (goes to Margaret r. c, standing a little above her — in low voice) Is it quite use- less to urge you to pause before you do this, Maggie? Margaret. Quite useless, James. My mind is made up. (crosses to l. c.) Constantia will be here in a few minutes. I have written to her. I'erhaps it would be better if you were not here when she arrived — either of you — it would be THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 69 painful to everybody, {including Dick in her look, hut still not addressing him.) Dick. Quite right. Let's go out into the gar- den, Jim, and give Constantia a fair field, {goes towards window, where he stands looking grimly towards others.) James. I shall see you before you go? Margaret. If you wish it. James, {breaking out — crossing to her) Mag- gie, if you only knew how sorry I am! How ashamed ! Margaret, {raising her hand) Please! If you wish to see me to say good-bye, I am willing, but don't try to change my resolution. You will not succeed. {Exeunt James and Dick c.) (Margaret, left alone, takes small tray from piano R., and 'Ujanders round room collecting various trifles, a small clock in case, a couple of hooks, a silver scent bottle, etc. She pauses by photograph of James on mantle-piece, takes it up, looks at it for some time, half puts it down again, then seems to make up her mind and takes it, adding it to pile on small table up h. c.) Servant, {announcing) Mrs. Eichard Weth- erby. {Enter Constantia.) {Ewit Maid^ r.) Constantia. {fussily — going over to her l. c.) My dear Margaret, what has happened? I came 70 THE TWO MR. WETHBRBYS. at once. Are you in trouble of any kind? Your note explained nothing. , Margaket. I thought I would rather tell you myself. I have discovered that James has been deceiving me, and I am leaving him. Can you take me in for a few days? CoNSTANTiA. (astofiished) Of course, dear, with pleasure — that is, I mean, are you really obliged to take this step? Margaret. I am obliged to do so. No other course is open to me. CoNSTANTiA. But, my dear, this is very sud- den. James, too! So high principled as he al- ways appeared! Are you sure there has been no mistake? Margaret. He has admitted everything. CONSTANTIA. How extraordinary! I never should have thought that of James! But there ■ — you never know men! {sits c.) When do you think of coming to me? Margaret. To-day, if you can have me. I am merely putting a few things together to take with me. {adding something to the pile on small talle L. c.) CONSTANTIA. Quite right, dear. You can't be too careful about that. I left such a lot of things behind me, when I left Richard, that I wanted afterwards! Plate, for instance, and knives! I took not a single spoon or fork, and the same with table linen. Margaret, {crosses at tack, sits r.) I was not thinking of those things. I shall only take a few personal belongings, nothing of value. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 71 CoNSTANTiA. Is that wise, dear? Of course James must make you a suitable allowance. My own from Richard was most meagre! And even a small establishment costs so much to start. The merest necessaries are so expensive. And they wear out in no time nowadays. Margaret, (listlessly) I dare say. CoNSTANTiA. But tell me, dear, when did you find out this about James? Margaret. Last night. It seems that for months he and Richard have been spending most of their evenings in low dissipation. CoNSTANTiA. Richard was the tempter, of course ? Margaret, (listlessly) I suppose so. CONSTANTIA. (Hsiiig energetically) Margaret there must be an end of this. Richard must not be allowed to exercise his malign influence unfet- tered. My mind is made up. I shall put a stop to it! Margaret. How will you do that? OoNSTANTiA. (decidedly) By returning to his roof! As long as he is living as a bachelor there is no check on his depravities. But when / am with him I can at least see that he keeps within bounds, (r. c.) Margaret, (r.) You will go back to him? You will forgive him? CONSTANTIA. No. I shall not forgive him. He has not deserved that. But I shall go back to him. I cannot allow him to retain his liberty any longer. When I separated from him it was to punish his misconduct and give him an oppor- 72 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS.- tunity for repentance, not to enable him to plunge deeper into vice and folly, (crosses to fire.) Margaret. But Constantia ! Ought you to do this? Won't you be very unhappy? (rises) Constantia. (calmly) I shall be able to bear it. Indeed, I have not found my life apart from Richard so happy either. The house is very small and the dining-room chimney smokes. (sits at desk) Of course these things do not weigh with me, but they exist. And you must remember that it was duty which made me leave my husband, not pleasure. The lot of a woman living apart from her husband has great incon-- veniences. It may be right that she should do it, it may be right that you should, dear, but it is not pleasant! Margaret, (sits on ottoman — Utterly) The life of a woman who lives with a husband she no, longer loves is not pleasant either. Constantia. No doubt, (in a practical tone) Still, of the two, I think I prefer it. (pause) And in any case we can only take the course which we believe to be i-ight. My duty is clearly to return to Richard and to watch over him more carefully in future. Margaret. Then you will not be able to take me in for a few days? Constantia. No, dear. I shall be going back to town with Richard this afternoon. But you can have my house for the present with pleasure. Houses are always better occupied, aren't they? And I shall probably not be able to let it im- mediately. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 73 Margaret. You intend to speak to Richard to-day? CoNSTANTiA. (brisMy) Yes. At once, if you will kindly send for him. Margaret, {rises) Very well, {rings hell) And now if you don't mind I'll go upstairs and finish my packing. {Enter Maid.) Will you ask Mr. Richard to come here, Jane? He is in the garden. Take these things upstairs when you have done so. {points to things on sofa and {Exits R.) (Maid exit c, returning a moment later with Dick.) {Then exits Maid with tray full of things, e.) Dick. (l. c.) Hullo, Constantia! You here? You want to see me? Constantia. (l.) Yes, Richard. Dick. But this isn't in the agreement. The agreement said that we were to meet once a year. I really can't talk to you two days running! Constantia. This is not a time for jesting. Dick. It never is — with you, Constantia! {She maTtes impatient gesture.) Well, what do you want to say to me? Constantia. Richard, I have heard of youl' shocking behaviour. 14 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. Dick. Not for the first time, I am sure. CoNSTANTiA. It appears, from what Margaret has told mo, that you now abuse your liberty as shamelessly as you formerly abused your posi- tion as a husband. In the one case you made my life wretched. In the other you lead others into temptation. Dick. Meaning poor ol(J Jim? CoNSTANTiA. I mean your unhappy brother James. Dick, (nodding) I suppose it's the same per- son. CONSTANTIA. What I have now to say to you is, that I cannot permit you to be a source of moral contamination to others any longer. Dick. I see. You're going to keep your eye on me from Norwood? Very sporting of you to warn me beforehand. CONSTANTIA. No, Eichard, I am going to re- turn to you as your wife ! (rises) Dick, (his jaw drops) Oh no, you're not! (moves R.) CONSTANTIA. I beg your pardon. Dick. (r. c.) My dear Constantia, pray dis- miss this idea from your mind altogether. You will not return to me because I decline to re- ceive you. CoNSTANTiA. ' (l. c. ttstonished) You refuse? Dick, (c.) Of course I refuse. You don't love me. You told me that yesterday. And now your only idea in returning to me is to keep an eye on my moral character. You don't suppose I shall like that, do you? THE TWO MR. WETHKRBYS. 75 CoNSTANTiA. (l. c.) (frigidly) It was not intended that you should. Dick. Precisely. So I decline to submit my- self to the experiment. CoNSTANTiA. I shall insist upon it. (loftily) It is the duty of a husband and wife to live to- gether. Dick. It's taken you some time to find out that! (slight movement to r. c.) CoNSTANTiA. (takes a step after Mm — after a pause) Tell me, Richard, what is your reason for this refusal? You must have a reason. Dick. My dear Constantia, it's simple enough, I no longer love you. Constantia. (starting hack to l. c.) You dare tell me that! Dick. Why not? You no longer love me. You told me so yesterday. Constantia. (walks doun l.) There's some other reason. I'm sure of it. If you no longer care for me it must be because you have met someone else. Dick, (sits c.) My dear, don't be childish. Constantia. (turning) Oh, you can't put me oflf in that way. A man doesn't want to live apart from his wife in this discreditable manner unless there is some other woman he loves better. Dick. What shocking ideas you moral people have. Constantia. (coming and standing over Mm c.) If you were not irreclaimably vicious you would welcome this chance of a reconciliation. 76 THE TWO MR. WBTHBRBYS. Dick. Vicious? Nonsense, I'm not vicious. I'm a very moral person. CoNSTANTiA. Then you deceived me grossly. You always told me you were vicious. Dick. I think not. CoNSTANTiA. Well, wheu I said so, you never denied it. Dick. I always used to let you have your own way. That's why you left me. Women like to be tyrannised over. CoNSTANTiA. (sftg ttthes a few paces down e., and turns — controlling herself with difficulty) Will you answer me one question? Dick. (Mandly) No. I don't think I will. In fact this whole interview is most irregular. You must keep it for next year. CoNSTANTiA. You're unbearable. Dick, (rises^ triumphantly) That's why we're so much better apart. I'm sure you feel that? CONSTANTIA. (coming up to him c, fiercely) You won't get rid of me so easily. Dick, (sweetly) Not altogether perhaps. But the relative freedom I at present enjoy suits me well enough. CONSTANTIA. (crosscs to Mm L. c. — he gets E. c.) (Furious) I'll find a way of punishing you for this! Dick, (laughing) Threats! My dear Con, you shock me. Why should you object? You'll be happy enough. You'll have Margaret with you, you know. THE TWO MR. WETHBRBYS. 77 (CoNSTANTiA malces a gesture of rage. She walks down L.) As for Jim he .will share my flat in Maddox Street. It's b'g enough for two. (James passes window front to e. Dick calls out) (r. c.) "Won't you, Jim? James, (coming to window) What did you say? Dick. I was telling Constantia you and I were going to settle down together in Maddox Street. Constantia. (crosses to Dick with gesture of fury) Brute! (Exit R., in a towering passion.) Dick. Come in, Jim. I never could resist the temptation to chaff Constantia. James, (coming down l. c, sarcastically) I suppose she liked that? Dick. (r. c.) If she did, she concealed the feeling very successfully. But how about you, old man? You don't look very bright. Wife not forgiven you yet? James. No. She's determined to leave me. Dick. Lucky fellow! My wife wants to re- turn to me! I'm far more to be pitied. James, (irritably) I wish to heaven you'd be serious sometimes. Dick. Serious? I'm deuced serious. Why, I tell you, my dear chap, if I hadn't been abso- lutely rude to Constantia, she'd have thrown her- *8 "The two MR. WETHBRBYS. self into my arms and we should have had to be- gin married life all over again! I shouldn't have liked that at all. James. Why did she want to go back? It seems an odd taste. Dick. Taste had nothing to do with it. It was pure conscientiousness ,on her part. She thinks she ought to look, after me. James. And you refused to take her back? Dick, {nods) Certafnly. James, {disgusted) You must be an abso- lute brute, {sits c.) Dick. Why? She left me of her own choice. I'm not going to be sent about my business and then whistled back again at a moment's notice. What would you say {crosses to l. c.) if Mar- garet told you she'd altered her mind and wasn't going to leave you after all? James, {enthusiastically) Say? Why that she was the dearest, kindest, most forgiving little soul in the world. Dick, {horrified) My dear fellow! James. Confound you, Dick, can't you under- stand that I love Margaret — that there's nothing on earth I wish so much as to be reconciled to her? Dick. And go back to the old slavery? James. It wasn't slavery. It was happiness. (Dick gasps.) Dick. Well, you certainly have the most curi- ous conception of happiness. But there, go back to your Margaret, if you must! THE TWO MR. TVETHERBYS. '?J James. If I only could! Dick. But don't expect me to take back Con- stantia, because I shan't. James. I don't believe you're serious. Dick. I'm perfectly serious. (looJcing at him keenly) Are you? James. About Margaret? Of course. (Dick shrugs his shoulders.) Dash it, man, one would think it was unusual for a husband to want to be reconciled to his wife! Dick. 'Tisn't what you'd call common! But there, it's your tas|e. Send her down to me. Say I've something to say to her. (James rises.) I daresay I can bring her to reason, (in an off- hand way.) James. She won't come. Dick. Oh yes, she will — from curiosity. (Exit James k.^ disgusted at this parting piece of cynicism.) {While he is away Dick strolls about room, ex- amining Philistine decorations with every sign of contempt. Notices gap on mantelpiece tchere Jim's picture used to he. Whistles. Enter Margaret. He turns hurriedly and stands with hack to fireplace.) Margaret. You wish to speak to me? Dick. Yes. Sit down. Margaret, {sits c, l. of ottoman) I should 60 THE TWO MR. WETHbRBYS. tell you at once that if your intention is to plead on James's behalf, you are only wasting your time. Dick, (airily) Oh, it isn't. I think Jim's rather well out of it. Margaret, (with frozen dignity) I beg your pardon? Dick. It isn't half bad being a bachelor again, at least that's my experience. Margaret. James is not of your opinion. Dick. He will be. Not at first of course, but afterwards, and anyhow he'll get accustomed to it. It's astonishing how quickly men get used to things. He'll drop back into the old bachelor ways. No Aunt Clara ! (impressively) No Rob- ert ! Oh, he'll be happy enough. You needn't fret about him! Margaret. It's not true. James is not like that. Dick. My dear Margaret, men are very much alike. He'll get to enjoy his freedom as I have done. Margaret, (fiercely) He won't! He won't! You're heartless and selfish. You don't feel at all. Jim loves me. Dick, (pause — quietly) I used to love Con- stantia. Margaret. Used to love! Dick. Yes. (with obvious sincereity) People say that love never dies. On the contrary love is killed, oh so easily. A word, a look, moments of temper, inopportune tears. How they kill love! Margaret. I don't believe you. THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 81 Dick. Oh yes, you do. And besides these, there are other things — boredom, relations — you're not very fortunate in the matter of rela- tions, are you? Little failures of tact and taste, little errors of judgment, all these contain a drop of the poison which may help to kill love! Margaret, (wondering) Why do you speak to me like this? You are quite serious. I thought you were never serious. Dick. I'm not often — fortunately. Margaret, (puzzled) But why now? (ris- ing angrily) I see what it is. This is a trap. You want to make me forgive James. Dick, (in his most exasperating manner) My dear Margaret, be sensible. Sit down. Why on earth should / want you to forgive Jim? I like him! Margaret, (stung) What do you mean? Dick. You see if you leave Jim / shall see a lot more of him than I do now. As far as I am concerned the more completely you sever your connection with him the better. Margaret, (triumphantly) But he wouldn't be happy. Dick. Ah, we don't agree about that. Margaret, (sitting down) Then why did you send for me ? Why have you spoken to me at all ? If you would rather I left James why need you do anything but just leave us to part as we were doing? Dick. Were? Your resolution is wavering, you see. (moves slightly towards her) Margaret, (hotly) It is not! 82 f HtE Two Mil. WETHBRBYS. Dick, (calmly) I misunderstand you then. So much the better for me. I get Jim instead, you don't ! Margaret, (iewildered) I don't understand. You haven't told me yet why you're trying to bring us together — if you are trying. Dick, (dispassionately) It's a sort of ran- dom benevolence on my part. I have fits of it. Margaret, (peevishly) What do you mean? Dick. The fact is I was talking to poor old Jim a few minutes ago, and he really did seem most awfully fond of you and all that, in spite of the way you've behaved Margaret. (rising angrily) I've behaved! Thank you, Eichard. That will do. I told you it was useless for you to plead on James's behalf. I am now sure of it. (going up r.) Dick, (laughing) Come back, Margaret. You misunderstand me. If you would kindly have let me finish my sentence. Margaret. Well? (turns to face him hut does not come hack.) Dick. Let me see, where was I? Oh, I found that Jim was awfully fond of you — absurdly so it seemed to me — and you're awfully fond of him too, you know, though you won't admit it at present. Margaret. I don't see that that is any reason why you should have interfered. Dick, (impatiently) My dear Margaret, when I see a woman deliberately throwing away her own happiness, I think it's only kind to warn her. That's all. The f wo MR. WETHEllBYg. S3 Margaret. Ser happiness? Dick. Yes. (pause) Jim will get over this all right, as I said. Men do. They're tough. And they've lots of distractions. It's different with women, {coldly) So I thought I'd just give you a hint before it was too late. Margaret, {sarcastically) Isn't it rather late for you to begin to consider me? Dick. I dare say. But it's not too late for you to consider yourself. Margaret, {haughtily) I haven't the least idea what you mean by that. Dick. Sit down and I'll try to make myself clear. {She sits. He sits Reside her. Both sit on ottoman. Margaret r. Dick l. of it.) Margaret. Wfell ? Dick. Do you know what passed between my- self and Constantia this morning? Margaret. Yes. A reconciliation. Dick. No. Your sister wished for one. At least she wished to patch up our marriage some- how. I refused. Margaret. You refused? Dick. Yes. {pause) I'm happier as I am. Margaret. And Constantia? Didn't you think at all of her? Dick. Constantia made her choice a year ago. She can't alter it now. Margaret. And are you never going to live with her again ? Never at all ? 84 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. Dick, (cheerfully) Never! On that point I am quite clear, {there is a pause) Margaret, (slowly) I still don't see what all this has to do with me, Dick, (airily) Merely a parallel case. That's all. Margaret, (in a whisper) Parallel? Dick, (sternly) Yes. I loved Constantia once. Jim loves you now. Constantia sulked with me, badgered me, bored me, finally left me as you are leaving Jim. Poor woman, she thought she would be happy living alone. At least she thought she would be contented. So do you. She was mistaken. You can see it in her face, the lonely look of the woman who has no home. And we have only been separated a year! Yet she so hates her present life that this morning nothing but my direct refusal to receive her pre- vented her from returning to me. What a situa- tion! How humiliating and disastrous! Think carefully, Margaret, before you do as she did. Margaret, (half to herself) What an escape! What an escape! Dick. You will think carefully? Not for Jim's sake, Margaret, hut for your own! (Margaret tursts into tears.) (rises) There, there, that's all right, dry your eyes and then go and make it up with Jim. Margaret, (trying to stifle her sots) B . . . b . . but will he forgive me? Will he make it up? Dick, (grimly) Oh yes, he'll forgive you all right. THE TWO MR. WETHBRBYS. 85 Maegaebt. (rising and drying her eyes) It's very unjust. Men always have the best of. it. They do wrong and we suffer. Dick. Ah well, you manage to make it pretty disagreeable for them too sometimes ! Maegaeet. (half crying) I thought I was do- ing right. Jim behaved very badly. It was my duty to punish him. Dick. You don't call punishing your husband duty? I call it pleasure. Maegaeet. (laughing through her tears) You're very horrid! But you meant this kindly. You're not really bad, Dick. I see that now. Dick, (hacks up l., alarmed) For Heaven's sake don't begin putting me on a pedestal! It wouldn't suit me at all. (going to door, opens it and (falls) Jim! Jim! (to Maegaeet) Come, summon up a smile to greet your husband. Ever such a litle one! (She smiles faintly. She crosses l. and turns to- wards him up stage.) (Enter Jim.) Jim, go to your wife and tell her you're heartily ashamed of yourself and will never do anything wrong again, and perhaps she'll forgive you. I'll go upstairs and finish packing. I sha'n't be two minutes. (Exit R., hastily.) James, (coming down e.) Margaret! Is it true? Will you forgive me this time? Maegaeet. (to him c.) Yes, Jim, if you'll 86 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. promise never to hide anything from me again. (Embraces him.) Jambs. Angel! Of course I promise. I'll never hide anything from you in future. And I'll never go anywhere with Dick again as long as I live! Margaret. Oh no, Jim, you mustn't say that. I've changed my opinion about Dick. I believe he's quite good really, nearly as good as you are, only not so serious. I should like him to come and stay with us. He's fond of you, Jim. James. What will Aunt Clara say to that? Margaret. Aunt Clara will not be here. She must go away; and Robert too. In future we must have our house to ourselves, and live our lives in our own way. James, {emiracing) Margaret, you'r^ a trump! But I'll deserve it. I swear I will. I'll do whatever you wish, (draws her down on sofa beside him.) Margaret. Dear old Jim. (strokes his hair affectionately) (Enter Dick with bag and overcoat.) Dick. Hullo, ,not finished yet? (Margaret moves away from him hastily.) James. Confound you, Dick, don't interrupt. (possesses himself of Margaret's hand.) Dick. Not for worlds. But as my train goes in ten minutes, I thought you might find time to say good-bye to me. (comes down R. c.) THE TWO MR. WBTHERBYS. 87 James, {rises and going e.) You're not going b'efore lunch? Maegaeet. Do stay. Dick. No. {getting into coat) The atmos- phere of this place is altogether too connubial. (e. c.) I must get back to my lonely flat in Mad- dox Street, where no wives are admitted. Good- bye, Maggie. Goodbye, Jim. Don't be too good either of you! And when you see Constantia, tell her I've (James and Maegaeet go l. c. together.) decided to remain a grass widower permanently. {Turns to go, picking up hag and hat. Maegaeet and James stand hand in hand. As he reaches door E. enter Constantia dressed as for jour- ney. In her hand she carries a dressing tag.) Hullo, Con, I was just speaking of you. What is the use of that confounded agreement if you keep popping up in this way? What are you doing here? Constantia. I came to find you, Richard. Dick. But this is quite out of order. You were to see me once a year, not twice a day. Be- sides, I'm just off to London. Constantia. I also am going to London. Dick. By this train? Constantia. Yes. Dick, {cross b. c. to e.) Very well. You've just time to catch it. {sits down e.) I'll take the next. 88 THE TWO MR. WETHERBfS. CoNSTANTiA. No, Eichard, we shall go to- gether, (comes down r. c.) Dick. What! CoNSTANTiA. I have made up my mind to for- give you. I consider it my duty. Dick, [with the calmness of despair) There seems to be a perfect epidemic of forgiveness down here just now. Here's Margaret who has made it up with Jim, and there they stand hold- ing one another's hands in a manner that's per- fectly sickening. (Margaret pulls her hand away guiltily.) And now you want to forgive me! I don't want to be forgiven ! I won't be forgiven ! Constantia. [sternly) Margaret! Is this true? Margaret. Yes, Connie. Constantia. Indeed! Well, I only hope you will not live to regret it. You appear to me to have acted with undue precipitation! James, (l.) We're going to risk it! Constantia. (c. with grunt of disapproval, turning to Dick) Well, Eichard. I am ready. Dick, (r.) I'm not. I decline to allow you to come with me. Constantia. [firmly) Nothing but physical violence will prevent me. Dick, [rises, reproachfully) Look here, Con, is this fair? I allowed you to leave me when you wanted to. You've no right to change your mind now. It's fickle, that's what I call it. Beastly fickle ! THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. 89 CoNSTANTiA. This is not a moment for jesting. Dick, (disgusted) It certainly isn't! CoNSTANTiA. (stcmly) Then if you will take up your bag, perhaps we had better start. Dick. I'm dashed if I will. I can't take you to Maddox Street. You'd be awfully uncomfort- able there. CONSTANTIA. I shall do very well. You said there was room for two only this morning. (Dick makes a gesture of despair.) Margaret, (l. c. — coaxingly) Dick, be nice to her. You're not hard-hearted really, though you like to pretend to be. Take her back. Dick. Look here, Maggie, I call that pretty rough. Is this my reward for reconciling you to your husband? Margaret. Well, I'm only trying to reconcile you to your wife. Dick, (r.) (disgusted) Dash it all! Don't joke about it. One humourist is enough in any family. James. Make it up, old man. It isn't half bad being married after all, eh, Maggie? And you can't prevent her from coming unless you call in the police ! You only separated by mutual consent. Dick, (resigning himself) Very well. Look here. Con, if you'll say you're sorry for the way you've treated me, and will let me do everything that I please in future and always laugh at my jokes, I'll forgive you. I can't say fairer than that. 90 THE TWO MR. WETHERBYS. Maegaret. Say yes, Connie. Dick, (to her more kindly) Come, Con, dfi the thing handsomely. Is it yes? CoNSTANTiA, Yes, Eichard. (They shake hands.) CURTAIN. (At second curtain Constantia is ty door fol- lowed hy Dick, carrying BOTH the bags.) THE END. 332 33s ■ '.vol. XtL 'ibp Churco*! BUrne AdelKiLltA •■seiidr Vali«nte \ , t'oreit Rdkc < I Dul^e'i Dftiirhter ' CAin.lllm'B Huibaud Pare Gold VOL. XLIT. Ticket of l.^sve Mu Fool'ft Kevenee O'NeU tl>e Great Hwiy Andy Flrate of the Iilei FattchoD Little barefoot Wild inahUirl VOL. XLIII. Pearl of Savoy Dead Hfart Ti!nNiphtaiiiaBar-r Dumb Boyof Maiiohi Belpbe^or the Moan teb'k Cricket on the Hearth PrInter'B Devil iileg'i Otvorttioa (French' s Standard Drama Cohiinufd from 3d page of Cover.) vol- XLiy 346 Drunlcard't OMin ' 34fi Cliimaej' Corner ■ JH7 f iftfeen Yiarn-of a Drupk- A4^ No thoroughfare [ ard'e a*9 P(ep97 P^ffiualion A Oftl»t«a 391^ Leah \m Scrap of Pap« 400 Lost ID Lond'oB VOL. LI. 401 Oftorooo. •-, ' 40a Confederate Spy ,403 Mariner*! Retun 404 Ruined by Dnak 405 Dreama 406 M. P. . , 41)7 'War 408 Uiith VOL. Lll. 409 Nfgllttngale 410 Progr^flB 4irPlay " 41i2 Midnight Charg* 413Coi.fidenti«rdl()A 4I4Snr.whfill 415 Our Heifiment 416 Married for MoKOf Hamli-t in fhreaAcU GutUs & Gulpit FRENCH'S INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHTED EDITION OF THE WORKS OF THE BEST AUTHORS. The following very successful plays have just b^en issued at 25 cents per copy. A. BAXB. OF SPECTACLES. Comedy in 8 AcU by Sv&nbv (tRuhdv, author of "Sowing the Wind," , Acj , 8 male, 3 female cbanictfira. , A FOOL'S PARADISE. An oriRlpnl play in 3 Act* b>a Sydskv fiaCNPY, author, of "Sowing the Wind," Ac. 5 male, 4 female characters. ' THE SILVER S^HI^LB. Aii-original comedy !n 3 Actf by Syrnkt Gedndy, author of "Sowfng the Wind,'' • - . " - . 4 . .. 5 male, 3 fenialercharaiJttirs ■THE GLASS OP PASHIOH. An original com- edy in 4 Acts by Svnrlsy'QKUNDV, author qt "Sowing the W^ndi" ^0.' 6 male. 5 female characters. THE BALLOON. Farcicpl pomedy In 8 Acta by J. H. p.*ai^i.EY and M^HViLtK FkNN. ' £ male, 4 female characters. MISS CLEOPATRA.' Fvce In 3 AoUTjy AsTHoa Shirley. 7'iuale, 3 female^cbaracterE. , ' SIX PERSONS. . Comedy Act by I.' ZanowiLL. I male^ 1 female character. FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE. Comedl-, etta in 1 A<^t by Pebcy Fendall. 1 male, 1 feoiate character. Highland legacy, comedy \% i ac* by Brandon Thomas, author of "Charley's Aant.'' S male, S fejnale ^har^ters. Contents of Catalogue whi(:h is sent Free. , Amateur Prama Amitteilr Operas ■ ArtMe'B Needed faj; Amateurs Art of Sirene Paintine; Baker'B Reading Cliib Beards, WbitVeri, Miistaohea,^ etc. Bound Sets of Plays Biilwer Lytton'a Plays ^ '• Biirleiqne'Df'amaK ' Burnt Cork " , , Cabman's Story Carnival of Authors Charade Plavs Children's Plays Comic Dramas 'for Male Chftracters only ' Costume Books Crape Hair Cumberland Cdition Darkey Dramas firamaR. for Boys DrawinE-ronm Monologncs ' ' Elocutidjn; Redt«rs andSpefAfirs; Ethiopiiui Dramas , . ' ^E'Pnbie's Entertainment , Fali^ and Home Plays Frei)th's Cofitunies French's Editione > French's Italian Operas French's Parlor Comedies French's Standard and Minor Drama French'if Standard and Minoi^Drama, <' hound French's Scenes for Amateurs Frobiiher'q'i'oTiulnr Recitals^ iSratid Army Uramas ' Guide Uooks fur Amtitenra Cfnide to Selecting P^ayi-.' Hints on CostumS'S "' Home Plavs for Ladies Irish PlRVK ■ Irving'B Plays Juvenile Plays Make-Up Book ' Make-Up H..I ' Mgtk Trial ■ ■■ " Mrs. Jarley's Wax Works New Pl..ys New RedttatioD Sooks Nigger Joke^ aad Stump Spsec^ai Parlor Magic ■ Parlor Pantomimes Pieces of Pleasantry Poems for Recitations Plays for Mala Characters only Round Games Saoery Scriptural and Historical Drantu Seniation Dramas. Serio-Comic Dramas Shadow Pantomimes . Shakespeare's- Plays for Araatcan Sliakesp^are's flays Stanley's Dw»rfs Spirit Gum , Tableaux Vfvants Talma Actor's Art Temperance Plavs Vocal Music, of Shakespeara'a plays Webster's Acting Elditioa WigB,/etc. {French's Minor Drama Continued from 4th page of Cover.) VOL..XLT. 321 Adventures' of a Love 322 I ost Child [Letter 3i3 Court Cards 324 Cox and Box 335 Fortv Winks 396 Wonderful .Wbraaa 397 Curious Case 328 Tweadleton'a TaiFCoat - VOL. XLH. 329 As Like .as Two Peaa 330 Presumptive EvLdenca 331 Happy Band ■' 332 Pinafore 333 Moclt Trial 334 MyUncle's Will ■ 335.HappY Pair ■ *■' 336 My Turn Next VOL. XLIII. 337 Sunset 33BForHalfaMmioa^ 339 C'.bl? Car " 340 Early Bird 341 Alumni Play 34^ Show of Hands 343'Barbara 1 344 Who's Who VOL. XLIV. 346 Who's To Win Him 346 Which is' Which 34T Cup of Tea ^ 348Santh's'.VouagMaB 349 Hearts 360-Ia Honor Bouiid [Law 361 Freeiing , a Mother-in- 362 My Lord in Livery SAMUEL FRENCH, 26 West 22d St;, New York City. ' New and Explicit -Descriptive CataloKue MMlled Pret on Request. FRENCH'S MINOR DRAMA. Price 15 Cents each.— Bound Volumes $1.25.^^^ VOL. I. I The Iriili Attorney ' , 3 Booii nt the Swan 8 How to U&y the Rent ; 4 The hoxii uf a Lover 6 Tbe Dead Shot C Hie Lwl Len 1 The In-visible Prince fi The GoUen Fanner VOL. II. 9 Pride of ths Market 10 Used Up 11 The Irish Tutor 19 The Barrack RooQi 13 Luke the Laliorer 14 Beauty and the Beast 16 St. Patrick's Eve 16 Oaptain of the Watch VOL. UL n The Secret [pen 18 White Horse of the Pep- 19 The J'acohite 90 The Bottle 31 Bor and Cos S9' Bamhoozliiig 23 WidowV Victim 24 Robert M.Hcalre VOL. (V. 95 Secret Service 2S'0iiinibuH M Irish Lion I 88 Mttldof Crolaay ,■ 99 The Old Ouard 3l>'Raiain|^the Wind 31 Slasher and Ccnsher 33 Naval EngsgementB '■ VOL. V. 33 Cookniea in Caliromift 34. Who Speaks First 35 Bombaites P'ulioso 36 Mficbeth Tfavestle 81 Irleh AnibaSBIy Neighbor's Wile 84 Irfth Tig«r H^ P; P., or Man and' Tiger h6 To Oblige Beaion HT State SecreU 68 Irish Yankee VOL. XIL 89 A Good Fellow , 90 Clierj^ audiFair Star 91 Gale Breezely 92 Our Jemloay ' 93 MiIlBr'S'>Iaid , 94;Awkward Arrival it5 Crossing ihe.Liqb 96 Conjugal Lesson ' VOL. XIII. 97 My Wife's Mirror 98 Life In New York 99 Middy Asllore 100 Crown Prince lOlTwoQwe.-n* 102'Thuinpiiig Legacy 103 Unfiaislied U^'uClem au' 104 HoDse Dug VOL. XIV. 105 The Demiin Lover 106 Matrimbny 107 in and Out of Place 10! 110 Andv Blake 111 Love' in '76 [tie' 112 Romance under Difficul- VOL. XV. 113 One Coatfi>r i Suits 114. A Decidft4Case 115 Daughter [no rity 116 No;-or,the Glorious Mi- ll? Coroner's Inqdtsitloii >, 118 Love In Humble Life' 119 Family Jars ' / I2frPerdonatiiJn VOL. XVI. . 191 tUfaildren In the Wood 122 Winning a Husband ,' . 123 Day After the Fair - ' 124 Ma1«! Y.iur WilU 126 Rendezvous ' 126 My Wife's Husband' 1 27 Monsieur Torison 128 llluetrious Stranger VOL. XVIL ^ 129 Mischief-Making [Mi nes 130 A Live Woman in the l:il The Corsair 132 Shy lock 133 SpoiiedChild 131 EvH Eye 135 Vothlns to Nurse 136 Wanted a Widow VOL. xvin. 1.17 Lottery Ticket 138 Fortjipe^s Fr'olle 139 Ts he Jealousi 140 Married Bachelor 141 Husband at Sight 142 Trishnian in London 143 Ani-iia! Magnetism 144 Highways and By-W ays ■vol; XIX. 14$ Columbus -146 Harlequin Bluebeard 147 L»dies at Hon^e 148 Pbenomenoh In'a Smock Frock - ' 149 Comedy and Tragedy l50'Opposite Neighbor* 151 Dutchman's Ghost 163 Persecuted 'Dutchman VOL. XX. 153 Mnsard Ball 154 Great Tragic Revival 155 High Low Jack & Game 156 A Gentleman from Ire- 157 Tom and Jerry [land 168 Village Lawyer 169 Captaih's not A-miss 160 Amateurs and Actors VOL. XXL rei Promotion [ni 16^ A Fasannting lodiviif- ]6S Mrs^ Caudle 164 Shakeijieares Dream \t5 Nepluue I Defeat 10 Lady of Jledchaiulier ,; 67 Take Care of. Little 1^8 Irish Widow ICharlify VOt. XX IL IM Yankee Peddler 170 Hiram HirCeuti -171 Double-Bedded Rd(tm 179 The Drama Defended 173 Vermi)nt Wool Dealer 174 Ebeneser Ventui-e [tei 175, Principles from i^liarac- 176 Lady of the Lake (Trav) Vol. xxiu. 177 Mad Dogs 173 B.^rnuy the-Baron 179 Swiss Swajns' 180 Biichelgr's Bedrriom 181 A Riilnud for an Oliver 182 Mi>re BHi'nders than On< 183 Duicib Bella I^4 Limtrick boy VOL. xxty. 1S5 Nature' and Philosophy 1^6 Teddy the Tiler 187 Spectre Bridegroom' 188 Matteo Falcqne , 1S9 Jenny Lifld 190 Two BuKiards ' ' . 191 Happy M;in 192 Betsy Baker VOL** XXV. , 1 93 No. 1 Round the Oomer 194 Teddy Rob 195 Object of Intprest, 146 My Feliow .Clerk 197 Bengal Tiger l^S Iiiau^iTig Hvena 199 The Victor Vanquished ■iOO Our Wife VOL. XXVL 201 My Husbatld^a Mirror ] 202 Yankee Land 903 Norah Greina 204 Gjdod fpr Nothing 205 The First Night 206'The Eton Boy V07 WaniSeriiig Minstrel 208 Wanted, foOO MtUIneta VOL. XXVII. Poor Pilcoddy '^ 210 The Mummy [Glasaea 211 Don't Forgft your Opera 212 Love in Livery 213 Anthony aiid Cleopatra ■>14Trying,It On 215 Sfcige Stru<:k Yankee 216 Young-Wife* Old Um brella VOL. XXVIIL 917 Crinoline 918 A Family Failing 219 Adopted Child 220 Turned Heads 221 A Match in the Dflrk 293 Advice to Husbaods 223 RlameBfi Twins 2pk Sent to the Tower VOL. XXIX. 925 Somebody EUe 2 '6 Ladies' Battle 297 Art of Acting 928 The Lady ofthe Lions 999 The RiEfita ^f Man 230 My Husband's Ghost 231 Two Can Play at that Game Fighting by Proxy VOL XX X 933 Unprotected F^^male 934 Pet of the Petticoats 235 FoPty and Fifty [book 938 Who Stole -Ahe Praket- ■^37 My Son Diana [don 238 Unwarrantable tntru 239 Mr. and Mrs, "White . "'"A Quiet Fanjily iFreneb s Minor Drama Continued on ^dpage of Cover.) VOL. ^;. £41 Cool as CucudNfer B% Sudden Thoughts 243"Jumtao Jum 944 A Blighted i^eing 945 Little Toddlekins ; 946 A Lover by Proxy [Pall 247 Maid with the Milking 248-nrplezing Predicament VOL. XXXU. 949 Dr. Dllwiirth 250 Out to Nvr?e ' 251 A Liicity Hn't- ■i52 The Dowager 953-MetAinora (Birrlebqae) 254 Dreams o£ Delusion 265 The Shaker Lovera 956 Ticklish '■•nes VOL. Sxxin. /67 2fr Minutes with a Tiger 968 Miralda; ox,, the Justice of Tacon 959 A Soldier's Courtship Ser'vauu byXegaCy ' Dying for X,o*e 969 Alarming Sacrifice 963 Valet-de Shhm 964 Nicholas Mckleby VOL. xxxiv; 266 The Last of the Pigtails 266 Kifig Rene's Daughter 267 The GroBto Nymph 268 A Deviijah Good Joke 269 A Twice Told Tale 270. Pas de Fascination ■-'71 Revolutionary Soldier tJT2 A Man Without a Head VOL. XXXV. ^3 The Olio, Part 1 574 Tne (Mio, Part 5 275 TJiie, OlW, P»rt 3 [ter 276 The Trumpeter's Daugh- 277 Seeing VVaj^en * U78 Grwen Mountain Boy 97;9'That Nose ^JlSO Tdm Noddy's Secret VOL. XXXVL Shocking Events A Regular Fix 983, Dick Turpin 284 Young Scump 985, Young Actreaa Ja6 Cftil (It No. 1--7 ' '9*7 One Touch of Natnre 288 Two B'boys- VOL. xxxyir. 289 All the Wnrld'^s a Stage 290 Quash, or Nigger Prac- 291 Turfl Him Out - [tice 292 Pretty Girls of Stillbere 993 Aijgel of the Attic ' 294 Clrcomstancesalt«rCasu 295 Katty O'Sheal ' ■ 296 A Supper in Dixie VOL. XXXVIII. 297 Iri on Parle Franials 9fl8 Who Killed Cock Robin V99 Declaration of Independ- 300 Heads or Tails fence 301 Obstinate Family 302 My Aunt 303 That Rascal Pat 304 Den Paddy de Baxan VOt. XXXIX. [ture 305 Too Much-forOood Na- 306 Cure for the Fidgets 307 Jack's the Lad 303 MucbAdoAbontNothing .^09 ArtfffI Dodger 310 Winning Huard 311 Day's Fishing ,> [4c. 312 Dii^ou ever lend your, VOL. XL. 313 An Irishman's Manettrer -114 Cousin Fannie 315 'Tis the Darkest Hour, be- 316 Masquerade- [fore Dawn 3I7,Crowiding the Season 31iS Good Night's Rest 319 Man with the Carpet Bar 330 Terrible Tinker SAMUEL FRENCH 36 West 22d Street. New York City. New and Explicit Descriptive Catalog-ue Mailed Free on Request.