CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Joseph Whitmore Barry 
 dramatic library 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 TWO FRIBNDS 
 
 OF Cornell University 
 
 1934 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR6015.A58T4 1913 
 
 Thompson a comedy in three acts, by St. J 
 
 3 1924 013 623 206 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013623206 
 
THOMPSON 
 
 A COMEDr IN THREE ACTS 
 
THOMPSOIS^ 
 
 A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 
 
 BY 
 ST. JOHN HANKIN &, 
 GEORGE CALDERON 
 
 LONDON 
 
 MARTIN SECKER 
 
 NUMBER FIVE JOHN STREET 
 ADELPHI 
 
 r- 1. 
 
I\IpS^01Z^ 
 
 BALLANTYNE & COMPANY LTD 
 
 Tavistock Street Covent Garden 
 
 London 
 
 
 -O; 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Though " Thompson " is not the result of a collaboration, 
 I hope that it has something of the effect that St. John 
 Hankin and I would have got if we had worked on if 
 together. 
 
 Soon after his death, Mrs. Hankin sent me the MS. of 
 the play as he had left it, and asked me to finish it. 
 It was entitled " Thomson's Escape : A Rather Heartless 
 Comedy." Act I was written out with a certain air of 
 finality ; the rest was a pretty full sketch, covering some 
 twenty pages. I agreed with pleasure, because it was 
 the sort of eomsdy-schem^ that I should have liked to 
 invent myself. 
 
 I allowed myself full liberty in dealing with his 
 notes ; carried out som^ of his directions {such as " Jim, 
 vague — drift — explains philosophy of drift — see what 
 turns up ") ; and modified others that did not fit in with 
 the central notion as I saw it. Nobody can quite fulfil 
 another man's intention; besides, a playwright can 
 never tell how his idea is going to "pan out " till he has 
 finished with it. The middle and end are bound to 
 have a retroactive effect on the beginning, and Hankin 
 
vi PREFACE 
 
 himself would probably have altered many things which 
 had an air of being settled. 
 
 In the original draft the scene of the first Act was 
 laid by Eamkin in the Lownge of a riverside hotel. 
 Helen was a more matter-of-fact yowng lady tha/n I 
 ha/ve made her. Gerald was in the Navy. Miss 
 Latimer was " Mrs." and his mother. Instead of a 
 lion-tamer and a lion, there was a cockney stranger 
 resetted by Gerald from drowning ; and there was none 
 of this plainly aHificial business about am, uncle leaving 
 property — a pardonable piece of stage appa/ratus, I hope, 
 for getting through with the business of plot where 
 character, not plot, is the main thing. 
 
 If something ofthefme dry Hamhin flavour has been 
 lost in the course of treatment, his ad/mirers must forgive 
 it as inevitable. Nobody regrets it more than his 
 fellow-OMthor, 
 
 G. C. 
 
PERSONS OF THE PLAY 
 
 Mbs. Vaughan 
 
 Hklen, lier stepdaughter 
 
 Miss Latimer 
 
 Gerald, her nephew 
 
 James 
 
 Frohock 
 
 Two Parlourmaids, Two Countrymen 
 
 The action passes at a small house at Maidenhead 
 
ACT 1 
 
 Scene : The drawing-room. It is noon on a sunny 
 day in June, and the shady comers of the room 
 are fvU of warm, reflections from the garden, which 
 is visible through the open French vnndow. 
 
 When the curtain rises, the only occupamt of the room, 
 is Helen Vatjghan, a romantie-looking girl of 
 aibout 22, who is reading on the sofa. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. [0^.] Don't be long, dear Miss 
 Latimer. . . . You'll find me in the drawing-room. 
 
 [Enter Mes.Vaughan, a pretty woma/n of about 
 35, charmingly dressed in swirvmery gar- 
 ments and an elegant feathery hat. Her 
 sm,ile is sweet, her rnanner amiable, and her 
 total effect is charming. 
 
 So there you are, my dear ! Such a lovely morning ! 
 Miss Latimer and I are just going for a little stroll. 
 One really ought to get out before lunch if one can, 
 if only to get up an appetite, oughtn't one? I do 
 so hate sitting down to a good lunch and having no 
 appetite. Won't you come too ? 
 9 
 
10 THOMPSON ACTi 
 
 Helen. No thank you, Mamma, I think I shall 
 stay indoors. I am feeling rather lazy this morning. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Well, that's always a pleasant 
 feeling, isn't it ? Laziness may be wrong, but it cer- 
 tainly is very pleasant. . . . 
 
 [Enter Gerald by the window, in knicher- 
 hochers, carrying a hag of golf-clubs. A 
 tall, handsome sunburnt soldier of about 
 30; very simple, very straightforward, 
 rather slow in thought and speech; the 
 heroic type. 
 
 Ah, there you are Captain Latimer ! So you've been 
 playing golf already. Well, I hope you won your 
 game. Though no doubt I ought not to ask, for if 
 you've lost you won't want to say, and if you've won 
 you'll be too modest. I and Miss Latimer are just 
 going out to take a little turn. 
 
 [Enter Miss Latimek, a rather grim amd 
 masculine old maid of 60 / kind-hearted, 
 strong-featured, deep-voiced, ill-dressed amd 
 out-spoken. 
 [To Geeald.J Won't you come too ? 
 
 Gerald. Many thanks. I should have liked it 
 very much ; but the fact is , . . I've got to clean my 
 golf -clubs. 
 
 Miss Latimer, I hope I haven't kept you waiting ? 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Not at all. We've plenty of time. 
 And what is it like out. Captain Latimer ? Not windy 
 I hope. 
 
ACTi THOMPSON 11 
 
 Gerald. There's a little breeze, that's all. 
 
 [Exit Gerald. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. How tiresome ! It will ruin my 
 hat. 
 
 Miss Latimer. You can change it if you want, you 
 know. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I think I'd rather risk it than take 
 such a desperate measure as that. So come along. 
 [To Helen.] Good-bye[for the present, my dear ; and 
 mind you're not dull without us. Come, dear Miss 
 Latimer. 
 
 Helen. Good-bye ; enjoy yourselves. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. That I'm sure we shall. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Which way? Down by the 
 river ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Oh, nowhere near the circus, I 
 beg ; there are the most dreadful animals roaring in 
 the menagerie there ; it really is too alarming. 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Yaughan amd Miss Latimer. 
 Helen goes to the window and waves after 
 
 [ Without. "[ No, I propose that we go up through the 
 beechwoods and examine the really enchanting wind- 
 mill. . . . 
 
 [Mrs. Vaughan's voice dies away. Helen 
 returns from the window, looTcs in the glass 
 amd puts a hairpin into its place. Tuaks up 
 her legs on the sofa and retwms with a sigh 
 to her hook. Ee-enier Gerald. 
 Gerald. Am I disturbing you ? 
 
12 THOMPSON ACTi 
 
 HeIiEN. Not at all. Please come in. 
 
 Gerald. I have been guilty of a deception, Miss 
 Vaughan. When I paid that I had to clean my golf- 
 clubs, that was a subterfuge. My caddie had already 
 cleaned them. I wanted to be alone with you. Are 
 you sure that I am not disturbing you ? 
 
 Helebt. Quite sure. I was only reading. 
 
 Gerald. A novel, I suppose ? 
 
 Helen. No, I was reading poetry. 
 
 Gerald. Poetry ? 
 
 Helen. It is a little volume of Lamartine. I 
 should be very glad to read you some of it if you 
 understand French. 
 
 Gerald. At another time I should like it very 
 much indeed, though I do not understand French. 
 But now . . , 
 
 Helen. Now? 
 
 Gerald. I have something to say to you, some- 
 thing very important. 
 
 Helen. Yes? 
 
 Gerald. It is very difficult. I do not know how 
 to begin. 
 
 Helen. Is it something about yourself ? 
 
 Gerald. It is about both of us. 
 
 Helen. What can it be ? 
 
 Gerald. Miss Vaughan, all this fortnight that I 
 have been here I have been like a man in a dream . . . 
 yes, like a man in a dream. I have not known you 
 for long, that is true . . . 
 
 Helen. About a fortnight. 
 
ACT I THOMPSON 13 
 
 Gerald. Yes. When my Aunt first wrote to me 
 that her friend, Mrs. Vaughan, with whom she was 
 sharing a cottage in the country for the summer, had 
 a stepdaughter, I felt something queer, a sort of 
 presentiment, at once. When she invited me to 
 come down here to stay, I knew that I was in for it. 
 Every day since I have known you it has got worse 
 and worse . . . Miss Vaughan, I see in you all the 
 most exquisite qualities of womanhood. I love you 
 with all the love that my heart is capable of ; I adore 
 you ; everything is changed for me since I have 
 known you, the world, life, everything. 
 
 Helen. Stop, stop ! 
 
 Gerald. Are you angry with me ? 
 
 Helen. Of course not. Why should I be angry 
 with you.'' But let me stop you before, you get 
 any further. I like you very much. Captain Lati- 
 mer. 
 
 Gerald, Oh ! 
 
 Helen. Almost as muqh as any one I know , . . 
 
 Gerald. You are saying that only to be kind ? 
 
 Helen. No, I say it because I mean it. You say 
 that you love me, you are going to ask me to love 
 you in return . . . 
 
 Gerald. To marry me . . . 
 
 Helen. It is the same thing. 
 
 Gerald. Very nearly, 
 
 Helen. But it is impossible. I can never marry 
 any one. 
 
 Gerald. You never marry any one ? 
 
14 THOMPSON ACTi 
 
 Helen. No, there was a man once, but he is 
 dead. 
 
 Gerald. Oh, if I had known . . . 
 
 Helen. How could you ? I never talk about it. 
 But since then I feel that I can never belong to any 
 one but him. I shall always love him, and be faithful 
 to him. I wear this locket in memory of him. 
 
 Gerald. Is that his hair ? 
 
 Helen. No, but I like to think it is; it is the 
 same colour. 
 
 Gerald. Oh, Miss Vaughan, it is dreadful to feel 
 that you have been through a great sorrow like this ; 
 you who should be sheltered from every kind of grief 
 or harm. But if ever, as time passes, you should 
 come to feel the burden of your solitude too much to 
 bear . . , 
 
 Helen. Do you imagine I could ever forget a man 
 whom I have loved like that ? 
 
 Gerald. Not forget him of course. But I thought 
 that perhaps, some day . . . 
 
 Helen. Please say no more. I cannot listen to 
 you when you talk like that ; it seems like being 
 false to him. 
 
 Gerald. But I only mean . . . 
 
 Helen. You can hardly understand how I feel 
 about him I suppose. You are a man ; and I don't 
 think men feel things so deeply as women. 
 
 Gerald. But you mustn't imagine . . , 
 
 Helen. If you understood you would never think 
 that I could change or come to love any one else. 
 
ACTi THOMPSON 15 
 
 When a woman loves it is for ever ; at least, I know 
 that it is so with me. 
 
 Gebals. But really, Miss Vaughan . . . 
 
 Helen. You are like Papa. Papa imagined that 
 after a year or two I should forget. He believed 
 that James would forget. 
 
 Gerald. Oh, that was impossible, I am sure. 
 
 Helen. "Who can say ? But he had no time ; in 
 three weeks he was gone. Let us always be friends, 
 close friends ; but only promise me one thing, never, 
 never, to speak to me of love again. 
 
 Gebald. Oh, Miss Vaughan, if you forbid me, 
 I have, of course, no alternative but to obey. 
 
 Helen, Thank you. 
 
 Gerald. But remember, if ever you want a friend 
 to go anywhere or do anything for you, anything in 
 the world, I am always there. 
 
 Helen. Thank you, thank you. . . . Some other 
 time I will tell you more about James ; but just now 
 let us talk of something else. 
 
 Gerald. Yes, let us talk of something else. Give 
 me one moment first, to collect my thoughts. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. [Without.] Completely ruined my 
 dear ; three pounds positively thrown into the 
 gutter. 
 
 [Enter Mrs. Vaughan cmd Miss Latimer by 
 the window. 
 Oh, Captain Latimer, what a wicked man you are ! 
 Why did you teU me it was a nice day with no 
 yrind I 
 
16 THOMPSON ACT I 
 
 Geeald. I think I said there was a little breeze. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. A little breeze! It's a perfect 
 gale. We positively had to run for shelter, didn't 
 ■we ? And East- windy too, which is of 3,11 winds the 
 wind that I most detest. It ruins one's temper and 
 one's hat. 
 
 [Mrs. Vaughan takes off her hat amd looks 
 at the appaerently vm/ruffled plrmnage re- 
 gretfully. 
 
 Look at that ! 
 
 Gerald. Is it damaged much ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Have you no eyes ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. You ought to have changed it 
 then, as I suggested. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan, And what would have been the 
 use of that ? A wind like this would ruin any hat, 
 even the plainest sailor; and I never wear sailors. 
 They don't suit me, do they Helen ? I look a perfect 
 guy in them. So when it's too windy for my kind of 
 hat I simply have to stay indoors, that's aU. Some 
 people pretend to like wind, I know. There was a 
 poet who actually wrote an ode to the North East 
 Wind ; Kingsley, wasn't it ? It begins : " Welcome, 
 wild North Easter ? " Ugh ! fancy, and a clergyman 
 too ! And he couldn't have been sincere about it 
 because he was so sensitive to the cold that he 
 ultimately died of a chill, which was evidently a 
 judgment. Not that people pay any attention to 
 what poets say a rule. Still, you never know, and 
 
ACTi THOMPSON 17 
 
 there may have been others who suffered through 
 taking the poor gentleman at his word. 
 
 Gekald. There may indeed. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. And oh, the animals down in the 
 circus were roaring all the time in such a dreadfully 
 alarming fashion we were both frightened out of our 
 wits ; weren't we, dear Miss Latimer ? 
 
 Miss Latimsb. Quite. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. However, I have no time to talk 
 about poets or animals now. I must hurry to my 
 room and try to repair the ravages of the climate 
 as best I can. WiU you come and help me, Helen, 
 my dear ? I am sure it will take at least two of us, 
 to say nothing of my maid, to make me presentable 
 by lunch time. 
 
 Helen. "We'll soon put you to rights. Mamma, 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Well, I'm glad you're so hopeful, 
 my dear. You're always so useful about straighten- 
 ing things when they're rumpled ; and I always think 
 that's a sort of special gift. Some people have it, and 
 some people haven't. I haven't got it in the least^ 
 I'm sorry to say. As long as my things are perfectly 
 new I'm all right. 
 
 [Exeunt Helen <md Mrs. Vaughan. 
 
 [ Withcmt]. But directly I've worn them once or twice, 
 and especially if I've been caught in what Captain 
 Latimer is pleased to call a breeze, but I can only 
 describe as an equinoctial gale . . . 
 
 [Her voice dies away. 
 
 B 
 
18 THOMPSON ACTi 
 
 [Gerald sits brooding in a corner. Miss 
 Latimer has settled down and is knitting, 
 as she is dwring the greatm-part of the play. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Thinking, Gerald ? 
 
 Gerald. Yes. 
 
 Miss Latimer. What about ? 
 
 Gerald. About golf. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Humph ! . . . You certainly don't 
 look like a man who has just come into £1500 a year. 
 
 Gerald. I don't feel like it. 
 
 Miss Latimer, I've been wondering ever since 
 breakfast why I'm not to say anything about your 
 Uncle Jack having left you his money. 
 
 Gerald. Oh, I may as well own up, I've just been 
 proposing to Miss Vaughan. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Proposing ! 
 
 [Gerald Tiods. 
 Well, and what did she say ? 
 
 Gerald. She refused me. 
 
 Miss Latimer, She what ? 
 
 Gerald. She refused me. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Are you sure ? 
 
 Gerald. Oh quite, quite sure ; there was no 
 mistake about it. 
 
 Miss Latimer, And pray what has that got to do 
 with your Uncle Jack ? 
 
 Gerald. I didn't want to insult Miss Vaughan by 
 seeming to think that such a paltry question as money 
 fiould make the least difference to a young lady of 
 her delicacy of feeling. 
 
ACTi THOMPSON 19 
 
 Miss Latimer. I see. Well, well, I thought she 
 liked you. 
 
 Gerald. I think she does ; at least she said so. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Then what's the reason ? 
 
 Gerald. There's another man. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Another man ? I've seen no other 
 man. 
 
 Gerald. He died two years ago. She has never 
 got over it. She says that she feels she can never love 
 any one else. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Humph ! . . . Well, I hope you 
 don't mean to go glooming about the place like a young 
 Hamlet, for if there's one thing that I dislike more 
 than another it's gloomy people ; and I'd just as soon 
 you didn't stay with me at all. 
 
 Gerald. My dear Aunt, don't imagine that I mean 
 to give way to melancholy. I hope I shall bear my 
 sorrow as becomes a man. It isn't her fault. I don't 
 want to make her miserable by going about looking 
 wretched. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Well, that's a comfort. 
 
 Gerald, For the moment I am upset a bit, of course. 
 But I shall go down by the river and walk it off ; and 
 in an hour or so I hope to return as if nothing had 
 happened. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Well, mind you're not late for 
 lunch. . . By the by, now that ihaSs over, 1 suppose 
 I needn't let concealment, like a worm in the bud, 
 prey on my damask cheek any longer ? 
 
 Gerald. How do you mean ? 
 
20 THOMPSON act i 
 
 Miss Latimee. I can let them know about your 
 Uncle Jack's property ? 
 
 Gerald. !N'o, please no ! 
 
 Miss Latimer. And why not, pray ? 
 
 Gerald. I shouldn't like to seem as if I were 
 parading my delicacy of feeling in having kept it dark 
 until I had proposed to her. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Well of ^course they'll guess ; for 
 I shall have to go into mourning. 
 
 Gerald. Oh no, you mustn't do that. 
 
 Miss Latimer. What, not go into mourning for my 
 own brother-in-law ? 
 
 Gerald. No please, I really must ask you not to. 
 It would give the whole show away. 
 
 Miss Latimer. But my dear boy ! 
 
 Gerald. You must promise me that. Aunt Har- 
 riet. 
 
 Miss Latimer. But really Gerald, this is bullying. 
 You early Victorian cave-man ! Are we toys ? Can't 
 I wear what I like ? 
 
 Gerald. If you put on a black dress I shall go 
 straight back to India, On my word of honour as an 
 officer and a gentleman. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Hoity toity ! 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan, [Without.] Just run down and cut 
 me a few roses, there's a dear. 
 
 Gerald. You promise ? J 
 
 Miss Latimer. There's Mrs. Vaughan. 
 
 Gerald. I think I'll be off. 
 
 [Exit Gerald. 
 
ACTi THOMPSON 2] 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. [Without.] And mind you don't 
 tear your frock among the bushes as I always do. 
 [Entering by the door.] Here I am ! What a relief 
 to be tidy again. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Was that Helen you were talking 
 to? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Yes, I was just sending her out to 
 get a few roses for the piano. 
 
 Miss Latimer. She seems a most dutiful daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 Mrs Vaughan. She is indeed; and I always feel 
 like a mother towards her, although she's only a girl, 
 and of course I'm not her real mother, and step-mothers 
 are always expected to beat them, according to the 
 story-books. But then no doubt one shouldn't believe 
 story-books any more than one does poets, should one ? 
 Indeed, I sometimes doubt if we ought to believe 
 anything ; though if one doesn't 
 
 Miss Latimer. That's a sad story about her engage- 
 ment. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. To Mr. Thompson you mean ? Yes, 
 very sad. But that's a long time ago ; and these 
 things will happen, won't they ? So we must put up 
 with them. Of course it's not so easy to do that when 
 they happen to oneself, but fortunately most things 
 necessarily happen to some one else, and then it's easier, 
 isn't it ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. What did you say his name was ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Thompson, James Thompson. All 
 Thompsons seem to be christened James, don't they ? 
 
22 THOMPSON act i 
 
 Just as all Browns are called Thomas, and all Grants 
 Alexander. 
 
 Miss Latimeb. And who was this Mr. Thompson ? 
 
 Mrs. VATjGHAif. Oh, he was John's secretary. 
 Though why John should ever have wanted a secre- 
 tary at all was always a mystery to me ; but he says 
 he must have some one to tear up his letters. At first 
 he had a lady to do it, but she was most deplorably 
 good-looking, and in every way quite unsuited for the 
 post. So I naturally insisted on John's getting rid 
 of her and engaging a man instead. But Helen fell 
 in love with him almost directly, which was even 
 worse ; at least, John said it was worse. And of 
 course he hadn't a penny ; so what would they have 
 had to live on ? 
 
 Miss Latimer But surely, he had his salary as 
 secretary ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Yes, of course. But naturally 
 John paid him as little as he could, because he didn't 
 want to pauperise him. And of course Mr. Thompson 
 did as little work as he could, so as not to pauperise 
 John. So you see that left him all the more time for 
 Helen ; and he really was quite nice-looking of a kind, 
 which was a pity no doubt, but what can you do ? 
 And the upshot of it was that John went back to 
 having a lady secretary again, though I am glad to say 
 a very painstaking Scotchwoman of about forty-five. 
 
 Miss Latimer. And why did Mr, Thompson go 
 away? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Well, you see, I had found out 
 
ACTi THOMPSON 23 
 
 all about it, because I happened to come into the 
 room while he was kissing her hand, and naturally, I 
 told John, and when it appeared that there was noth- 
 ing for them to live on, I insisted on John telling 
 them that the engagement must be broken off at once. 
 
 Miss Latimee. Well ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. WeU, they were both very nice 
 about it and saw John's point of view ; for it's quite 
 plain that young people must have money nowadays 
 or else they'd starve ; and old people too for the 
 matter of that. Don't you think we acted for the 
 best? 
 
 Miss Latimer. I think you acted like a pair of 
 brutes ! 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Brutes ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. There they might have been happily 
 married; instead of which . . . Why didn't your 
 husband pay this Mr. Thompson enough ? 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. Well, if he took it I suppose it 
 was enough, or he wouldn't have taken it. We didn't 
 force him to be John's secretary, you know. 
 
 Miss Latimer. If your husband wanted a secretary 
 he ought to have paid him a big enough salary to 
 marry on, otherwise he was being underpaid. How 
 are young men to marry if they aren't paid enough 
 to marry on ? And how is the country to go on if 
 young men can't marry, I should like to know ? 
 
 Mrs. Yaugsan. Well I'm sure I don't know. It's 
 no good asking me. But at any rate one thing was 
 certain ; John didn't mean to give them any money, 
 
24 THOMPSON act i 
 
 and there was an end of it as far as he was con- 
 cerned ; for, once John makes up his mind about a 
 thing, you can talk yourself black in the face but 
 it won't aflfect hiTn, So there they were ! And 
 however much you may theorise, one does so hate 
 being hungry and having to do without things ; at 
 least I do, though they say that the poor get used 
 to it, which is certainly a fortunate thing, for us at 
 any rate. So Mr. Thompson went away, and the 
 next thing we heard of him was that he was 
 drowned. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Drowned ? 
 
 Mrs. Vacghan. Well, practically. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Practically drowned ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Yes, in the " Gothenburg," on the 
 way to America. John advised him to go to America ; 
 he said there were so many openings there. Not that 
 John knew anything at all about America ; still, 
 he advised him to go, and I quite agreed with him ; 
 for of course the further off he went the better for 
 all parties. So Mr. Thompson took his advice ; and 
 when the ship was wrecked he was . . . 
 
 Miss Latimer. Practically drowned. 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. Exactly. 
 
 Miss Latimer. And hasn't she got over it yet ? 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. No. You see the circumstances 
 of his death were rather romantic, and anything like 
 romance appeals irresistibly to Helen. When the 
 ship went down he might have saved himself quite 
 easily ; he seems to have been a splendid swimmer. 
 
ACT I THOMPSON 25 
 
 But instead of that he devoted himself to saving 
 other people ; he rescued three of the women by 
 swimming with them till the boats were able to pick 
 them up ; and it was in trying to rescue a fourth 
 that he lost his own life, for up came a shark and of 
 course that was the end of him. Poor Helen was 
 dreadfully upset and subscribed to a Press Cutting 
 Agency which sent her extracts from all the news- 
 papers giving accounts of what Mr. Thompson had 
 done ; and there she lay on a sofa for weeks, pasting 
 them all into an album, and reading them over and 
 over again. We tried every sort of thing to rouse 
 her, change of scene, Teneriffe, Broadstairs, tincture 
 of quinine; nothing was any use. And since then 
 she spends her time reading the most^ depressing 
 poetry that she can find and playing the piano with 
 both pedals down, and vows she will never marry at 
 all, which is naturally very annoying for us. 
 
 Miss Latimeb. Then you wanted her to marry ? 
 
 Mbs. Vattghan. Well you see, John and I both 
 agree that grown-up girls are really rather a nuisance 
 than otherwise about the house. Not, of course, that 
 dear Helen isn't a sweet child and makes herself 
 most useful, but stUl it would be more satisfactory 
 for all parties if once she were comfortably settled. 
 And I should never have offered any opposition to 
 this match with Mr. Thompson if I had imagined 
 she was going to be like that ; and really would 
 rather that she had been happy with the man she 
 loved, or at any rate a widow, however poor, than 
 
26 THOMPSON act i 
 
 treat the house as a kind of nunnery or nursing 
 home. 
 
 Miss Latimeb. I should think so indeed ! 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. But there's no calculating on 
 girls. For if ever there was one that I had expected 
 to be like other girls it was Helen, instead of which 
 she turns out quite feminine like they used to be 
 in the early Victorian days ; though really from 
 all one hears one hardly knows if people in the early 
 Victorian days were half as early Victorian as we 
 have always been led to suppose they were. 
 
 Miss Latimer. I have no patience with her ; I 
 should like to shake her. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I'm sure I'm delighted to hear 
 you say so. 
 
 Miss Latimek. I call her a romantic idiot to go 
 maundering on like this for two years over a man 
 that's dead. When you and your old curmudgeon 
 of a husband refused to let her marry this Thompson, 
 if she had had any spirit she ought to have run 
 away with him at once. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. But isn't that romantic ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. Not a bit ; that's practical common 
 sense. 
 
 Enter Gerald at window. 
 Well Gerald, what is it ? 
 
 Gerald. I say, I hope you won't mind . . . 
 
 Miss Latimer. What has happened ? 
 
 Gerald. The fact is, I met a chap I know down by 
 the river . , , 
 
ACT I THOMPSON 27 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Then I hope you asked him in 
 to lunch. 
 
 Gerald. That's just it. 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. How delightful. I always think 
 it is so much more amusing to see strangers at 
 meals than people one knows quite weU. Though 
 of course one's supposed to Uke one's own friends 
 and relations best ; still, it isn't a matter of affection 
 when you're eating. 
 
 Gerald. Well, I'm glad you don't mind. 
 
 [Exit Gerald. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughajst. And now I must go and find the 
 glasses to put Helen's roses in. And you, dear Miss 
 Latimer ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. What about me ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan., Aren't you going to titivate at 
 all? 
 
 Miss Latimer. WeU, perhaps I'd better go and put 
 my hat straight. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I should ; or take it off. 
 
 [Exeunt talking. 
 And I must say I think it's very talented of your 
 nephew to come across a friend when he's out walking 
 in such a very out-of-the-way little place as this ; for 
 who would have supposed . , . [Voice dies away. 
 
 [Enter Gerald and James by the window. 
 jAMBs]is a cool-looking individual of about 
 30, dressed in flannels, and carrying a 
 French novel. 
 
28 THOMPSON act i 
 
 Geeald. Don't be shy, old chap, there's no one 
 here. 
 
 James. Will my punt be all right ? 
 
 GebaIiD. As safe as a house. 
 
 James. I oughtn't reaUy to be here all all ; I pro- 
 mised to lunch with the Bertrams up at Road's End. 
 But it doesn't really matter ; I'll go there some 
 other day. 
 
 Gbkaxd. How funny our meeting again like this. 
 I thought you'd settled in America. 
 
 James. So I have ; but I came over on business. 
 
 Gerald. Business ? 
 
 James. Yes, I and another chap, a man named 
 Balgarnie ; such a ripper ; you ought to meet him ; 
 we've got a mine we found in Mexico, at least he 
 found it. We're over here trying to float it as a 
 company, at least he is . . . 
 
 Gerald. Well, I am glad you have come down 
 here. 
 
 James. The fact is, I ought to be helping Balgarnie ; 
 but I met a man in town who was coming down here 
 for the week end ; oh, such a nice chap, you can't 
 think ! So I just ran down . . . And what are you 
 doing here ? 
 
 Gerald. [His face falling i\ Oh, I've been playing 
 golf. 
 
 James. And what does the household consist of ? 
 
 Gerald. My dear chap, there's the loveliest creature 
 here that you ever saw. Oh, if you only knew . . . 
 
 Mrs, Vauqhan, {Without^ My dear Miss Latimer, 
 
ACT I THOMPSON 29 
 
 I only wish that my hats took so little time to take on 
 and off as yours do. 
 
 James. Who the devil's that ? 
 
 Gebald, That's her mother. 
 
 [Enter Mrs. Vaughan and Miss Latimer. 
 Mrs. Vaughan cwrries two flower vases 
 full of water which she puts down on the 
 table. 
 
 Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Thompson ; Jimmy 
 Thompson who was up with me at . . . 
 
 Jambs, Mrs. Vaughan ! I thought as much, 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. [Shrieking and falling on the sofaJ] 
 Ah ! It's him. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Gracious ! Who's him ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Mr. Thompson who was drowned ; 
 Helen's fiancS ; the man who was eaten by a shark. 
 
 James. Eaten by a shark ? 
 
 Gerald, You, Thompson ? 
 
 James, I assure you I was never eaten by a shark. 
 
 Miss Latimer. She's fainting. 
 
 Gerald. Good heavens ! 
 
 Miss Latimer, Quick, some water ! Put up her 
 legs ! Throw it in her face. 
 
 Mrs, Vaughan. No, no! I'm all right. Only 
 when somebody you know lies mouldering at the 
 bottom of the Atlantic, suddenly turns up in flannels 
 in a drawing-room, and offers to shake hands with you, 
 it's apt to be rather a shock. [Sitting up.'\ But I 
 must go and warn Helen, or this will be too much for 
 
30 THOMPSON act i 
 
 her, poor child. I must break it to her gently bit 
 by bit. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Stay where you are ; I'll do it. 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. No, no ; let me go. I can't trust 
 anybody but myself. 
 
 [Enter Helen at the window with her arms 
 full of roses. 
 Helen, here's Mr. Thompson turned up again ! 
 
 Helen. Ah ! [Droj^ng all her roses and holding 
 out both fiands to James.] You, James ? 
 
 James. Miss Vaughan? How delightful to meet 
 you here. This is simply ripping. 
 
 Helen. Then you weren't drowned after all ? 
 
 James. Drowned ? Of course not. Why should I 
 be drowned ? 
 
 Helen. In the wreck, 
 
 James. What wreck ? 
 
 Helen. The " Gothenburg." 
 
 James. Me? But I never was on the "Gothen- 
 burg." 
 
 Helen. Then you weren't in the shipwreck at all. 
 
 James. No, not in any shipwreck. 
 
 Helen. But the papers said you were. 
 
 James. Said / was ? 
 
 Helen. Yes, you James Thompson. They said 
 you saved three lives and perished in the act of 
 trying to save another. 
 
 James. The deuce they did ! What a lark ! Well, 
 it must have been some other Thompson, that's all. 
 
 Helen. Well, it is nice to see you again ! 
 
ACTi THOMPSON SI 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Goodness, how quietly the child 
 takes it. I thought at least you'd faint, as I did, 
 very nearly. 
 
 Heleit, I'm much too happy to faint. 
 
 James. Fancy my finding you all again like this ; 
 it really is ripping I 
 
 [A hdl rings. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Well, any way, there's the lunch- 
 bell; and as it's a joint, the sooner we go in the 
 better; for to my mind there's nothing so apt to spoil 
 a good leg of mutton as waiting in the cold tiU it's all 
 little lumps of fat swimming about in the gravy like 
 the people in that shipwreck in which it appears that 
 Mr. Thompson didn't take any part after all. 
 
 \Pwri,ng this speech the characters form proces- 
 sion, amd make for the door to go to lunch. 
 
ACT II 
 
 An hour later. In the gcn-d&n under the shade 
 of a big tree. James, Helen, Mrs. 
 Vaughan, GeraijD. James is reading 
 aloud from a scrap book of newspaper 
 cuttings. Helen and Mes. Vaughan listen 
 with rapt attention and utter eocclamations 
 of delight amd horror at the most thrilling 
 places. 
 
 James. "And now when it seemed at last that 
 thanks to Thompson's exertions all had been safely 
 got into the boats and the word was about to be given 
 to bend to the oars, a thrill of horror ran round the 
 company as a woman's figure suddenly emerged upon 
 the taflfrail of the sinking ship, making desperate 
 gestures of appeal." 
 
 [Enter two Parlourmaids with coffee and milk. 
 Coffee, hurrah ! I love a cup of coffee after lunch. 
 
 Helen. Don't stop. 
 
 James. Where was I ? Ha ! " It was the Cap- 
 tain's wife who, having been confined to the sick bay 
 by an attack of fever, had been forgotten in the 
 confusion of the moment." Eh! That was very 
 33 c 
 
34 THOMPSON act ii 
 
 careless of the Captain to forget her ; after being so 
 careful too about the pickled pork and whisky. 
 
 HELEif. Go on. 
 
 James. " Thompson, though still panting from 
 his recent exertions " 
 
 Enter Miss Latimer, knitting. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Hm! Mr. Thompson reading to 
 you ? What is it ? 
 
 Mrs. Vattghan. Sh! It's Helen's newspaper 
 cuttings about the shipwreck. 
 
 Jambs. Now, you listen to this. Miss Latimer; it 
 is most impressive. 
 
 Helen. Go on, go on. 
 
 James. You don't mind my cigarette ? " Thomp- 
 son, though still panting from his recent exertions, 
 soaked and shivering from his immersion, leaped to 
 his feet to perform still one more feat of heroism." 
 Too many feet there ; it doesn't scan. 
 
 Helen. Don't make comments, but go on, 
 
 James. " For one moment the intrepid hero stood 
 gazing towards the frantic form that stood beckon- 
 ing him to his death " 
 
 Helen. Ah ! 
 
 James. That's ripping, isn't it ? " Beckoning him 
 to his death. . . . Behind him lay safety " 
 
 Helen. Ah ! 
 
 James. "Before him yawned the mighty ocean," 
 . . . evidently bored with the whole proceedings; 
 rather blas6 about shipwrecks, don't you know. 
 
ACT II THOMPSON 35 
 
 Helen. Give me back the book, James ; you're 
 laughing at it. 
 
 James. On my word I'm not, er, Helen ; I'm as 
 serious as a judge. 
 
 Helen. You have no reverence for the heroic. 
 
 James. Haven't I though? I tell you I feel 
 proud of my name when I think of him standing 
 there with the blood of all the Thompsons coursing 
 through his veins 
 
 Helen. Don't you see how wonderful it was of 
 him, after already twice risking his life, not to think 
 of his own safety, but to go straight back 
 
 James. My word, yes ! 
 
 Helen, Without even waiting to get his breath . . . 
 
 James. His not to reason why, 
 
 His not to stop and dry ; 
 Back in the ocean 
 Plunged Mr. Thompson. 
 
 Helen. Give it here. [^Tahing the alhum.'\ I won't 
 have sacred things made fun of. 
 
 James. I say, don't be angry. I didn't mean any 
 harm. This is capital coffee of yours, Mrs. Vaughan. 
 
 Mbs. Vaughan. Well, I must say that after all 
 one's heard about the wreck and everything, and how 
 very heroic Mr. Thompson was and met with his 
 death in such an odd way, it is a great disappoint- 
 ment to find it wasn't you after all. 
 
 James. You put it so nicely, Mrs. Vaughan, you 
 make me feel almost sorry myself. But, unfortu 
 nately, you see I went by the Heidelberg instead, 
 
36 THOMPSON act ii 
 
 because I heard they fed you better there than on 
 the Goihenhvrg ; which shows that in spite of the in- 
 structive stories to the contrary that we heard in our 
 youth, one isn't always punished for being greedy. 
 
 Mbs. Vaughan. It seems hardly fair to Helen, 
 after joining the Press Cutting Association and every- 
 thing. 
 
 Helen. Oh, Mamma ! 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Well, my dear, a guinea's a guinea 
 for all you may say, and the press-cuttings have cer- 
 tainly been a source of great pleasure to all of us, so 
 long as we thought it was our Mr. Thompson who 
 was drowned. 
 
 James. Oh, I can quite understand it. [To Helen.] 
 Are you quite comfy ? 
 
 Helen. Yes, thanks. 
 
 James. Have this cushion. 
 
 Helen. No, thanks. 
 
 Jambs. [Putting it behind his Aead.] I wish you 
 would ; but if you won't 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. And now tell us about your life 
 in America. 
 
 Jambs. Oh, there's not much to tell. 
 
 Helen. Oh, yes ! and the prairies aud the buffaloes 
 and the Red Indians. TeU us of some of your ad- 
 ventures in the prairies. 
 
 James. The prairies? Oh, that's those big open 
 spaces. Well, I'm rather afraid I didn't have any 
 adventures in the prairies. I was in the towns most 
 of the time. 
 
ACT II THOMPSON 37 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. In the towns ? 
 
 Helen. Oh, how does it feel to see your first 
 buffalo ? 
 
 James. Oh, there aren't any buffaloes out there now. 
 
 Helen. No buffaloes ? 
 
 Jambs. They're extinct ; fizzled out ages ago. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. But, my dear Mr. Thompson, 
 don't destroy a world of pleasant illusions for us. 
 No buffaloes ? 
 
 James. There are only two left. They're in the 
 Zoo in Regent's Park. 
 
 Helen. Only two left ! 
 
 James. None others genuine : see the signature on 
 the label. 
 
 Helen. But the Red Indians 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. They exist, at any rate. 
 
 James. Oh yes, they exist all right. But they 
 wear billycocks and blue serge dittos now, play bridge, 
 and ride about in tramcars. You can't tell them from 
 the Irish. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. But don't they scalp people ? 
 
 James. No more than the Irish do ; not so much, 
 in fact. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I'm afraid the world has lost half 
 its picturesqueness. 
 
 James. Yes, we've come too late. It's rather 
 rough. 
 
 Helen. But what does it matter, so long as it is 
 full of brave men ready to do brave things. You 
 may not have been wrecked or scalped or anything. 
 
38 THOMPSON act ii 
 
 but if you were, I know that you would show the sort 
 of stuff that you are made of. 
 
 James. Ah, I should indeed. 
 
 Helen. I know that you are as brave as a lion. 
 
 James. Now, my dear Miss Vaughan, you mustn't 
 make me look ridiculous. You know I couldn't face 
 a field-mouse if it showed fight. 
 
 Helen. Rubbish, James, I know better. 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. No buffaloes and no Red Indians. 
 . . . Then what did you do when you left New York^? 
 
 James. Well, you'll hardly believe me, but I 
 worked. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Worked ! 
 
 James. Flattering incredulity ! 
 
 Helen. What work did you do ? 
 
 James. Oh, anything that came along. I was all 
 sorts of things ; such fun ! I mined a bit, ranched a 
 bit, was usher in a school for a bit. Then I met a 
 fellow who was going to California, such a nice chap ! 
 So I went there for a bit. Then I met Balgarnie, 
 who was going to Mexico, so I went there for a bit. 
 That was when we discovered the mine. 
 
 Miss Latimer, You seem to have gone pretty 
 much where anybody led you. 
 
 James. Oh, but you don't know BaJgarnie ; such a 
 ripper ; top-hole ! With a devil of a will ; I was 
 simply hypnotised. 
 
 Miss Latimer. But haven't you got a will too ? 
 
 James» Me ? Of course I have ; you musn't make 
 fun of me. I'm all will. But Balgarnie's the sort of 
 
ACT 11 THOMPSON 39 
 
 chap -who simply sweeps you off your legs. Some 
 people are like that : magaetism or something. 
 
 Mas. Vaughan. But hadn't you any plans ? 
 
 James. Plans ? Hundreds of 'em ! But somehow 
 or other they never came off; they never do ; haven't 
 you noticed that ? 
 
 Miss IjAtimer. Well, I must say, it sounds a poor- 
 spirited backboneless way of going through life to me ; 
 but then perhaps I'm old-fashioned. 
 
 Jambs. Oh, not a bit ! I believe in Providence, 
 that's all; I go where the current floats me. I'm 
 the modern man, the latest thing, the good social 
 animal. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Well, I must say, if that's the latest 
 thing, I'm glad that I am not modern. I prefer the 
 out-of-date sort of man who sets his mind to a thing 
 and goes on till he gets it. 
 
 James. Oh, you like heroes ? 
 
 Helen. Of course James, we all do ! 
 
 Jambs. Well, I can't help feeling sorry for them 
 myself, cast adrift in this unromantic world of ours, 
 with nothing in their line left to do. There's stUl an 
 armed burglar now and again, or a runaway horse ; 
 but very seldom, and generally up the wrong street. 
 The result is that the poor beggars spend most of 
 their lives sitting on office stools, totting up some- 
 body else's profits in a ledger, without ever getting a 
 chance. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Well, I'm only a woman, Mr. 
 Thompson, so no doubt I don't see things so clearly 
 
40 THOMPSON act n 
 
 as you do with your masculine mind ; but at any rate 
 women will always prefer men who do brave things. 
 
 James. Well you know, the hero doesn't really 
 make much of a husband. They're so often only at 
 their best when there's something heroic to do. There 
 was Aylwin Vavasour for instance. [To Geeald.] 
 You remember Carrots? He rescued a good-looking 
 heiress from a mad bull in the most thrilling circum- 
 stances. She married him and has regretted it ever 
 since. When there are no mad bulls about he's 
 rather a disagreeable fellow than otherwise to live 
 with ; never does a stroke of work, smokes in the 
 drawing-room and puts his legs on the mantelpiece. 
 Or take Toby Strutt who knocked a man down in 
 Oxford Street for being rude to a lady ; and was fined 
 twenty shillings or a month at Vine Street for dis- 
 orderly behaviour. No ! the fighting instinct is out 
 of place in this police-ridden civilisation of ours. It's 
 all very sad ; but I'm afraid we've got to put up with 
 the world as we find it. Now tell us something about 
 yourself, Latimer, old chap. What have you been 
 doing all this time ? 
 
 Gerald. Oh, nothing much. 
 
 Miss Latimer. [Proudly.] Gerald has received the 
 D.S.O. for service on the Afghan frontier. 
 
 James. Ah, yes, there's still a corner there. Con- 
 gratters, old chap. Are you going back ? 
 
 Gerald. In two or three months. 
 
 James. You'd better hurry up. I hear the Afghans 
 are all taking to pianolas and goloshes. 
 
ACTii THOMPSON 41 
 
 Miss Latimee. Half -past two ! I'm going to walk 
 
 three times round the shrubbery and then settle down 
 
 somewhere and get a little serious knitting done. 
 Mrs. Yavgba3s. [To Miss Latimer.] Come back 
 
 here. I'll get rid of the others. I want to have a 
 
 good talk with you. 
 
 [Exit Miss Latimer. 
 
 Now I am sure that you two old schoolfellows must 
 have a thousand things to say to each other ; school- 
 fellows always have ; and most of them, of course, 
 quite unfit for ladies to hear. So don't you think it 
 would be a good idea if you went for a walk ? 
 
 Jambs. A1 ! We'll go for a walk, old chap. 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. Helen has letters to write for the 
 afternoon post, I know. 
 
 Helen. Oh, no, mamma ; I haven't any letters to 
 write. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Yes, you have, my dear; your 
 Aunt Harriet would be dreadfully disappointed it she 
 didn't get a nice long letter from you to-morrow 
 morning. Come along. [To James and Gerald.] 
 Good-bye, then, for the present. 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Vaughajt and Helen with 
 parasols up. 
 
 [Without.] It certainly seems a pity to go indoors on 
 such a lovely day with the garden smeUing so sweet, 
 but unfortunately one can't spend aU one's day in the 
 open, unless one's a wild animal, or a gardener, or 
 something of that kind. . . . [Voice dies away. 
 
42 THOMPSON act ii 
 
 Geeald. [Shaking James hy the hand.] My dear 
 cbap, I know all. 
 
 James. The deuce you do ! All what ? 
 Gerald. About you and Miss Vaughan. 
 
 Enter Miss Latimer. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Once ! [£xit Miss Latimer. 
 
 James. Lord ! She gave me quite a jump. Is 
 she always like that ? What about me and Miss 
 Vaughan ? 
 
 Gerald. You love her. 
 
 James. Of course I do ; she's charming, isn't she ? 
 
 Gerald, I know how you were parted. 
 
 James. . Oh ! . . . Oh, that's an old story. 
 
 Gerald. She loves you just as much as ever. 
 
 James. How nice of her ! That's her manner ; she's 
 always like that. What a ripping day ! [Yauming.] 
 I must find a quiet corner somewhere in the shade. 
 
 Gerald. But you're coming for a walk ! 
 
 James. A walk ? Oh, no, I say old chap, you must 
 let me off ; I'm that sleepy. 
 
 Gerald. But you said you were going for a walk. 
 
 James. That was just to shake off the women. 
 
 Gerald. Good heavens ! to shake off the women. 
 
 Enter Miss Latimer. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Twice ! [Exit Miss Latimer. 
 
 James. Heavens ! There she is again. Of course, 
 I'll go if you insist, but the fact is, I always have a nap 
 after lunch. 
 
ACT II THOMPSON 4S 
 
 Gerald. A nap ! 
 
 James. Isn't there a hammock anywhere ? 
 
 Geeald. Yes ; there's one in the orchard. 
 
 James. The very ticket. Which way ? 
 
 Gerald. This way. You're a most mysterious 
 man. 
 
 James. Don't you worry about me. You'd better 
 have a snooze too on a day Hke this. 
 
 Gerald. I never sleep in the day time, not even in 
 India. 
 
 James. Don't you really ? What a hearty chap you 
 are ! I wish I had your stamina. 
 
 [Hxeunt talking. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. [Without.] You do walk so fast. 
 Really, I can hardly keep up with you. 
 
 Miss Latimer. [Without] It's nearly over. 
 
 [Enter Mrs. Vaughan and Miss Latimer. 
 Mrs. Vaughan unth gardening gloves, 
 basket and scissors. 
 Three times ! They've gone. Let's sit down here 
 again. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I was so upset, my dear, I could 
 hardly utter a word all lunch, so I think you'll admit I 
 really must have been very bad. How could one imagine 
 after he had been safely swallowed by a shark, that he 
 would turn up again in this way ? It quite reminds 
 one of Jonah and the whale. How surprised Jonah's 
 friends must have been at his coming back when they 
 all supposed they had seen the last of him. Nobody 
 seems to have thought what a terrible shock it must 
 
44 THOMPSON act ii 
 
 have been for them, to say nothing of the whale. No, 
 once people get swallowed by fish it is more satisfactory 
 in every way if they remain so ; then you know where 
 you are. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Where they are, you mean. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. If only^I could make Helen write 
 letters all day ; or if only she would fall ill suddenly ; 
 but one mustn't hope for that again so soon, as she's 
 only just well. Really, dear Miss Latimer, I don't 
 know what to do ! 
 
 Miss Latimer. "What I can't understand is, how the 
 mistake ever arose. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Ah, our being so certain that it 
 was our Mr. Thompson. No, of course that was a 
 mistake. 
 
 Miss Latimer. The shipping company ought to 
 have known. I wonder the papers didn't say. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Yes, yes. Well, the fact is that 
 we weren't really sure that it was our Mr. Thomp- 
 son. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Not sure ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. We didn't want to be sure. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Didn't want to be ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. No. Now you're shocked, dear 
 Miss Latimer; but there really is no use in being 
 shocked as I tell John. John is always being shocked. 
 It was all for Helen's sake. You see, if we had made 
 inquiries and all that, we might have found that it 
 wasn't our Mr. Thompson after all, and what would 
 have been the good of that i We didn't want Helen 
 
ACT II THOMPSON 45 
 
 to worry about him any more ; so what a good plan 
 it was if only he was finally disposed of in some way. 
 That was my idea. As soon as I saw the wreck in the 
 MaxL, with James Thompson's name among the missing, 
 I took it in to John, and said. There ! Well John said 
 this and that, and he said we ought to inquire before 
 telling Helen ; for Helen never reads the papers, and 
 would have known nothing about it if we hadn't told 
 her. So I said, " No John, inquiries are unnecessary, 
 for if it's our Mr. Thompson they'll make no differ- 
 ence, and if it isn't, we'd much rather not know." It 
 took John a long time to see it ; John isn't quick : 
 but so it was settled in the end. Helen was dreadfully 
 distressed, poor child, which was only natural ; but I 
 fully expected that she would soon get over it ; for one 
 can't go on grieving for ever, can one ? Indeed, I often 
 find it hard to go on grieving long enough ; it's so 
 much easier to look on the bright side of things ; and 
 surely, if Mr. Thompson was really dead, nobody could 
 expect Helen to consider herself engaged to be married 
 to him, could they ? The fact is that everything would 
 have worked very well if only this other Mr. Thomp- 
 son, who now turns out to have been a perfect stranger, 
 had managed to get drowned in a more normal and 
 unobtrusive kind of way. At first the papers merely 
 said he was missing, and there's nothing very romantic 
 about that, is there ? It might happen to any one. 
 Then came these accounts . . . He really does seem 
 to have behaved splendidly. 
 Miss Latimee, Poor fellow ! 
 
46 THOMPSON act ii 
 
 Mes. Vatjghan. Yes, and it was a great surprise to 
 all of us. For Mr. Thompson had never displayed the 
 least symptom of heroism as John's secretary ; not of 
 course that there was much opportunity in the sort of 
 work that he was doing for John. And it really was very 
 unfortunate ; for Helen is so fanciful. If only he had 
 died quietly in his bed, she wouldn't have felt it in 
 the same way ; but when there were columns about 
 him in the halfpenny papers, and even the Times had 
 a little paragraph, she said that she could never be 
 another's because her heart was buried with him, 
 though of course he never was buried at all, unless 
 you count the shark. 
 
 Miss Latimer. I only wonder you never found out 
 the mistake before. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughait. Well you see, John had made him 
 promise not to write to Helen, as it wouldn't be the 
 thing if they couldn't be married. And Mr. Thomp- 
 son kept his word. Men are always so honourable in 
 that sort of way, don't you think ? Besides, they're 
 never fond of writing letters, especially if they happen 
 to be secretaries. And it all comes round to that 
 again, what do you advise me to do now ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. "Well my dear, I must candidly con- 
 fess that I don't think much of this Mr. Thompson of 
 yours. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Why, to tell you the truth, neither 
 doL 
 
 Miss Latimer. He seems a very flabby sort of in- 
 dividual to me. 
 
ACT IT THOMPSON 47 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Then you advise me to send him 
 to the right-about ? 
 
 Miss Latiuer. Not at all. It isn't we that have 
 got to marry him ; it's Helen. It doesn't matter 
 whether we are in love with him — the question is, is 
 Helen ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Of course she is, desperately. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Then there's no more question 
 about it. I advise you to let them marry. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. You do ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. I do. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Well, I'm delighted to hear you 
 say so ; for the fact is, my dear Miss Latimer, that 
 that is the very thing I had made up my mind to do, 
 and I should have felt extremely vexed if you had 
 disapproved of my decision. And if Mr. Thompson 
 hasn't any money . . . 
 
 Miss Latimer. Then Mr. Vaughan will have to 
 help them. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Exactly what I felt. Poor John ! 
 he does so disUke parting with money. All English 
 parents do, and very likely foreign ones too for the 
 matter of that. However, I daresay it won't be 
 much ; after all, we may find that Mr. Thompson is 
 quite rich by now, for I must say he seemed to be 
 wearing a very nice suit, and he's quite good-looking 
 of a sort. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Well, I hope they'll be happy. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I see very small prospect of that ; 
 but, of course, you never know, fqr girls h^ave such 
 
48 THOMPSON act u 
 
 odd tastes nowadays. I should certainly have pre- 
 ferred her marrying somebody more ordinary, like 
 your nephew Gerald. 
 
 Miss Latimer. I should hardly have called 
 Gerald ordinary. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Oh no, not in that sense, of 
 course. 
 
 Miss Latimer. £ut in any case, there's no question 
 of that now. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. No, since Helen lays it down that 
 it's got to be Mr. Thompson or no one, I see no other 
 way out of it. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Excuse me, please; I've come to 
 the end of my wool ; I must go in and get some 
 more. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. And if you see Helen, would you 
 mind telling her to make haste with her letters and 
 come out here. I want to talk to her. 
 
 [Exit Miss Latimer. Mrs. Vaughan cuts 
 flowers and sings. 
 
 Enter James, yawning. 
 Good gracious ! Whatever are you doing here ? 
 I thought you were miles away. I really must 
 say that you have the most extraordinary talent 
 I ever knew for turning up when you're least 
 expected. 
 
 James. I was just thinking of getting back to my 
 punt. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Are you going on the river ? 
 
ACT II THOMPSON 49 
 
 James. Yob. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. "Well, in that case, the best thing 
 that you can do is to take Helen with you. 
 
 James. Take Miss Vaughan with me ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. She loves going on the river 
 
 James. I should like it of all things. But are you 
 sure you don't mind ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I shall make no objections now. 
 In fact, I withdraw my objections to everything. I 
 didn't approve of your engagement to her before . . . 
 
 James. My engagement ? 
 
 Mrs. Vauohan, Yes, your engagement to Helen ? 
 
 James. My dear Mrs. Vaughan . . . 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. No, let me speak ; I have been 
 silent too long. 
 
 James. But I . . . 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I didn't approve ; nor did John. 
 Still, we can't go on forbidding things for ever ; and 
 as you and she have been faithful to each other 
 all this time, I shall not oppose your being engaged 
 any longer. 
 
 James. Why, of course, if you insist . . . 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. And I do hope you will make her 
 a good and faithful husband. 
 
 James. Can you doubt it? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Of course, I don't think it an 
 ideal marriage. 
 
 James. No, no ! 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Nobody could. Still, if Helen 
 has set her heart upon it . . , 
 
 D 
 
50 THOMPSON act ii 
 
 James. Bat do you really mean that Miss 
 Vaughan ... 
 
 Mks. Vaughan. She has somehow got it into her 
 head that she can't he happy without you. 
 
 Jambs. Has she, really? Well, ^upon my word, 
 that is really ripping of her. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Now let us waste no time, but 
 get at once to the business side of the question ; for 
 John will expect me to be able to tell him what 
 settlements you propose to make on his daughter. 
 
 Jambs. Oh, settlements ! . 
 
 Mas. Vaughan. You have some property to live 
 on, I suppose ? 
 
 James. "Well, not very much I'm afraid just at 
 present. 
 
 Mrs, Vaughan. Bat this gold-mine . . . 
 
 James. Why, to be candid, there's some doubt 
 about the gold-mine. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. What sort of doubt ? 
 
 Jambs. First, as to whether there's any gold in it ; 
 and secondly, as to whether it's really ours. But I 
 dare say it will turn out all right. Who knows? 
 I may be a millionaire in time. 
 
 Mks. Vaughan, And faUing that ? 
 
 Jambs. Nothing. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. No expectations? No wealthy 
 uncle who is going to make you his heir ? 
 
 Jambs. They've rather gone out, those uncles. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Like the buffaloes. . . . Well, this 
 is certainly rather discouraging. As the child's mother 
 
Acrri THOMPSON 51 
 
 I am bound to consider what you're going to live on, 
 who you're going to live on . . . 
 
 James. Oh, I expect it'll be all right. Why worry ? 
 People always say one's going to starve, but one 
 never does. But what will Mr. Vaughan say to the 
 business ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Oh! John will certainly dis- 
 approve ; but then he always disapproves of every- 
 thing, so we shall have to put up with that as best 
 we can. No, let us regard the thing as settled. 
 
 James. It's very kind of you. I can't tell you how 
 flattered I am. I had no notion, when I turned in 
 here for lunch, that I should find myself engaged to 
 be married by tea-time. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. It certainly is a most romantic 
 story ; most romantic . . . And here comes Helen. 
 Talk of the Angels . . . 
 
 Enter Helen. 
 
 Helen, my child, I have changed my mind, and 
 now withdraw all my objections to your engagement. 
 
 Helen. Engagement, Mamma? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. To Mr. Thompson ; or rather 
 James, as I suppose I ought to call him now. 
 
 Helen. But, Mamma ! 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I have made up my mind not to 
 stand in the way of your happiness any longer. 
 
 Helen. Oh Mamma ! 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I should much have preferred 
 your marrying some one else, but it's no use crying 
 
52 THOMPSON ACT 11 
 
 over spilt milk ; so give me a kiss, my dear ; and I 
 will go in and write all about it to your father. He 
 will think it most unwise ; but it seems to be the best 
 that we can make of a bad job ; and I can only trust 
 that you will not live to regret what I am bound to 
 regard as a very rash undertaking. 
 
 [Exit Mrs. Vaughan, 
 
 James. Well, so it seems we're engaged to be 
 married. 
 
 Helen. So it seems. Don't you like it ? 
 
 James. Don't I like it ! You delicious person . . . 
 Everything conspires together, a perfect day, a 
 perfect place, the smell of roses, and then . . . 
 Helen, you don't know how happy I feel ! 
 
 Helen. Do you really ? 
 
 James. After two years of separation, two years 
 without you. 
 
 Helen. And have you missed me all the time ? 
 
 James. Every moment, pretty nearly every moment. 
 
 Helen. Are you sure ? Have you never been in 
 love with anybody else all that time ? 
 
 James. Now come, don't let's ask each other siUy 
 questions. Let's enjoy ourselves. Shall I come and 
 be Mr. Vaughan's secretary again ? 
 
 Helen. Oh ! Papa wouldn't have you. He's got a 
 lady-secretary now — he says he prefers it. 
 
 James, I don't wonder . . . Helen, you've got 
 the most agitating hair I ever saw, and your hands 
 simply make one giddy. Do you remember how I 
 kissed them once ? How could I dare ! 
 
ACT II THOMPSON 53 
 
 Helen. Of course, I remember. 
 
 James. And is it true that you've often thought of 
 me since then ? 
 
 Helen. [Laughing.] Now and then ! 
 
 [A roaring without. 
 
 Oh ! James, what's that ? 
 
 James. Nothing, some motorist. But tell me . . . 
 
 Helen. It sounded like a wild beast roaring. 
 
 James. That's what I say — a motorist. But I want 
 to know something more . . . 
 
 [A gun goes off. 
 
 Helen. Oh ! James ! what's that ? 
 
 James. They've punctured. 
 
 Helen. I'm rather frightened. 
 
 James. Don't be frightened ! you look so lovely 
 when you're frightened. It isn't fair ! [Kissing her.] 
 Don't be angry — it was your fault. 
 
 Helen. Oh, James ! 
 
 Jambs. Can you forgive me ? 
 
 Helen. What shall we do now ? 
 
 James. Let's go off in the punt. 
 
 Helen. Somewhere right away — what fun ! 
 
 Jambs. I am glad I didn't go for that walk ! 
 
 Helen. What became of Captain Latimer ? 
 
 James. He had to go without me. 
 
 [Helen laughs. 
 What's the matter ? 
 
 Helen. I can't help laughing when I think of him 
 stumping along the road there all alone. 
 
 James. While we . . . Do you know, Helen, I 
 
54 THOMPSON act ii 
 
 don't believe there were ever two people so absolutely 
 made for one another. . . . 
 
 Voices. [Without.] Open the gate. This way 
 You'll be all right in a minute. 
 
 James. Hullo, what the devil's this ? 
 
 [Enter Gbeald and two Countrtmen, support- 
 ing Frohock. 
 
 "Why here's Latimer back again. 
 
 Helen. Oh, and a stranger with him. 
 
 James. A handsome stranger. 
 
 Helen. He's all wet. What can have happened ? 
 
 James. What's up ? Who is this ? 
 
 Gerald. It is a lion tamer. 
 
 James. A lion tamer ? 
 
 Gerald. From the Circus. 
 
 [Parlourmaids ruM in. 
 
 Helen. Oh, and is he killed ? 
 
 Frohock. No, I'm not killed ; I'm only frightened. 
 Give me some brandy, there's a good fellow ; I'll be 
 better soon. 
 
 Helen. Get some brandy, Mary, quick ! 
 
 [Eadt Mary. 
 
 Frohock. Let me lie down. 
 
 Helen. Oh, what has happened ? What can we 
 do? 
 
 Gerald. A lion has escaped from the menagerie at 
 the Circus. 
 
 Helen. A lion ? That's what we heard roaring. 
 
 James. The motor-car. 
 
ACT II THOMPSON 55 
 
 Helen. Oh, what shall we do ? We shall all be 
 eaten ! 
 
 Gebald. There is no danger. I have killed the 
 lion. 
 
 Helen. Killed it ? You have killed a lion ? 
 
 Gebald. I shot him with a gun, 
 
 James. The puncture. 
 
 Gerald. The Territorials were passing ; I borrowed 
 a gun. 
 
 Helen. Oh, James, do you hear that ? Captain 
 Latimer has killed a lion, 
 
 •Enter Mrs. Vaughan and Miss Latimee. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. It really is extraordinary ; every 
 time that Captain Latimer goes for a walk he brings 
 home some one more interesting than the last. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Why Gerald, whatever have you 
 been doing now ? 
 
 Gerald. Oh, nothing ; I just happened to meet 
 this gentleman . . . 
 
 James. That's all ; the most 'ordinary thing in the 
 world. He just happened to meet a gentleman run- 
 ning down the road with a lion at his heels ; quite 
 a common spectacle about Maidenhead. 
 
 Miss Latimer. A lion ! Good Heavens ! A live 
 lion? 
 
 Gerald. Yes, it was alive. Aunt Harriet. But 
 this "gentleman wasn't on the road ; he was in the 
 middle of the river. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Andjthe lion . , . 
 
56 THOMPSON act ii 
 
 Gerald. "Was on the bank just going to jump at 
 him. 
 
 Miss Latimer, But, good gracious, what was the 
 man doing in the middle of the river ? 
 
 Frohock. Preparing to bob, madam, when he 
 jumped. 
 
 Helen. Just faijcy ! Captain Latimer killed the 
 lion. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Killed the lion ? 
 
 Helen. He took a gun and shot him. 
 
 Frohock. Are you sure the beastly thing is dead ? 
 
 Gerald. Dead as a door-nail ; I shot him right 
 through the heart. 
 
 Helen. Oh, it's too wonderful, too delightful ! 
 One can hardly believfe it's true. 
 
 Miss Latimer. But what was the lion after this 
 gentleman for ? Didn't he like him ? 
 
 Frohock. Couldn't stand me, madam ; singled me 
 out at once and made a bee-line for me, as soon as he 
 got out of his cage. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. It's too thrilling for words ; and 
 anything more providential than the lion getting out 
 and preparing to jump on this gentleman just as 
 Gerald came by cannot be well imagined. 
 
 Miss Latimer. There's an old-fashioned man for 
 you, Mr. Thompson. 
 
 Helen. I'm proud to have you for a friend. 
 
 Miss Latimer. And now, my dear Gerald, I think 
 that the best thing you can do is to take our visitor 
 indoors and giv& him a hot bath. 
 
ACT II THOMPSON 57 
 
 Gekald, "Well, perhaps I had. 
 
 Miss Latimer. [To the two Countrymen.] And I'm 
 very much obliged to you for escorting my nephew 
 home, and I hope you'll go at once to the nearest 
 public-house, and drink his health in a pot of good 
 wholesome ale [giving them money]. 
 
 Countrymen. Thank you, ma'am. 
 
 [Exeunt Countrymen, 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. And I think, if you don't mind, 
 
 I'll ask you to go in by the back-door, which I'm 
 
 sure is very irregular for a hero, but one can't 
 
 be too careful with other people's carpets, though if 
 
 I had my own way it should be under a triumphal 
 
 arch of roses with Vce Victis on the top, and Helen 
 
 scattering flowers on the path before you as you walk. 
 
 [During this speech exeu/nt Mrs. Vaughan, 
 
 Miss Latimer, Frohock, and Gerald. 
 
 Helen stands gazing after them,. 
 
 James. Well, shall we make a start now? . . 
 Helen ! 
 
 Helen. [Waking from her abstraction.] Yes ? . . . 
 Oh, isn't it wonderful ! 
 
 James. I say, shall we start now ? 
 
 Helen. Start ? Where for ? 
 
 James. The river. We were going out in a punt if 
 you remember. 
 
 Helen. Of course ! 
 
 James. But it's just as you like. If you'd rather 
 not go . . . 
 
 Helen. Not go ? After all these years ? James, 
 
58 THOMPSON actii 
 
 how could you think it! We'll sail together away, 
 away into fairyland. 
 
 Jambs. Rustling through the water-lilies, through 
 the cool smell of the water ; and I'll lie gazing up into 
 your wonderful eyes . . . 
 
 Helen. Oh, but you'll be busy punting. 
 
 James. Punting ? Catch me, on a day like this ! 
 
 Helen. But how are we to get along ? 
 
 James. We'll drift, we'll drift, little friend ; that's 
 the best way to get about. 
 
 Helen. Oh, James ! Fancy ! A lion ! 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
ACT 111 
 
 The same scene as Act 1. A week later. Helen at the 
 piano ; Miss Latimee knitting. James smoking 
 a cigarette at his ease on a sofa, half-hidden. 
 
 Helen. [Singing.] 
 
 blow ye winds of winter, blow, 
 And cover me with spotless snow ; 
 And tear the branches from the tree 
 And strew the dead leaves over me. 
 
 Miss Latimer. That seems a very doleful sort of 
 song. 
 
 Helen. Yes, it is sad. 
 
 Miss Latimer. It's the sort I used to hear my old 
 Aunt Maria singing when I was a little girl. 
 
 Helen. They're coming in again. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Humph ! 
 
 James. Don't stop, I'm enjoying myself. 
 
 Helen. [Singing.] 
 
 For ah ! my spring of life is flown. 
 And I must live alone, alone ; 
 59 
 
60 THOMPSON act iii 
 
 Never again the sun shall shine 
 Upon this broken heart of mine. 
 [Enter Mes. Vaughan with big rolls of wall- 
 paper ; she joins in the last words of the 
 song. 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. Bravo, bravo both of us ! What 
 a charming song it is ! 
 
 James. Jolly, 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. But I must interrupt you now for 
 something very important ; for the patterns have 
 come for the drawing-room wall-paper, and the great 
 question arises : are we to have it pink to match the 
 carpet, or blue to match the curtains ? For if we 
 have it pink to match the carpet it is sure to swear 
 with the curtains, and if we have it blue to match the 
 curtains it is sure to swear with the carpet. So which 
 shall it be ? 
 
 James. Under the circumstances, Mrs. Vaughan, 
 everything seems to point to white. 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. But that will never do, because 
 we've had the dado distempered a pale coffee cream. 
 
 James. Then I give it up ; I leave it to you ; I have 
 absolute confidence in your judgment. 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. What am I to do with him. Miss 
 Latimer ? He's always like this. 
 
 James, After all, what do wall-papers matter? I 
 shall be too busy looking at Helen to notice them. 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. These two young people leave 
 absolutely everything to me. You'd think it was I 
 and not they who was going to be married. Upon 
 
ACT III THOMPSON 61 
 
 my word, I doubt if they'd get married at all if it 
 wasn't for me. I've had to take the house, furnish 
 it, paper it, paint it and everything. The result is, 
 of course, that I am absolutely worn out, a perfect 
 wreck ; what I should do without my Magnetophos- 
 phoro I cannot conceive. 
 
 Enter a Pablourmaid with letters. 
 Dr. Wapshot says. . . . What's that, Mary ? 
 Mary. It's the post, mum. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Mary, bring me my Magneto- 
 phosphoro at once. 
 
 James. And Mary, has the newspaper come ? 
 Mart. Not yet, sir. 
 
 {Exit Mart. 
 [Miss Latimer drops a numher of blue press 
 cuttings on the floor. 
 Helen. Oh Miss Latimer, they're press-cuttings ! 
 Oh, I can guess the subject ! About your nephew . . . 
 Jambs. Latimer and the lion ! 
 Helen. Oh Miss Latimei', have you subscribed 
 to an agency for that ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. Well my dear, you subscribed to an 
 agency for cuttings about Mr. Thompson and the 
 sharks. 
 
 [Enter Mary with koumiss and Magnetophos- 
 phoro. 
 James. [Picking up a slip.\ " The King of Beasts 
 at bay in Berks." 
 
 Miss Latimer. Give that back to me at once, Sir ! 
 
 [She takes it from him. 
 
62 THOMPSON act iii 
 
 James. [Jumping on a chmr amd reading amother 
 slip^ "Although adventures with lions do not strictly 
 come within the purview of a paper devoted to poultry 
 farming "... From the " Hen Fanciers' Gazette." 
 
 Miss Latimek. How dare you, sir ! Come down 
 at once, or I'll pull you down ! 
 
 Helen. Come down, James, come down ! \To Miss 
 Latimee.] You must let me paste them all in a 
 book. \Exit Miss Latimer. 
 
 There now you've made her angry ! How can you be 
 so stupid James? 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. [Mixing medicine.] Two teaspoons 
 three time a day mixed to an even paste in 6 or 
 8 spoonfuls of sterilised koumiss ; and then I must 
 lie down and rest for half an hour. Otherwise Dr. 
 Wapshot says he cannot answer for my life. 
 
 Mart. If you please, mum, Miss Florence has 
 just arrived. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. The dressmaker? It's my new 
 frock ! Where is she, Mary ? 
 
 Mary. She's upstairs in your room, mum. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughakt. I'll come at once. 
 
 Helen. And what about your Magnetophosphoro ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Oh, you must drink it yourself. I 
 can't stop for that. [Going.] Now at last I shall be 
 able to wear something decent again, instead of 
 going about looking a perfect show, as if I had come 
 down to the country to wear out somebody else's 
 old clothes. [£lxit talking. 
 
 Helen. Well James ? 
 
ACT III THOMPSON 63 
 
 James. Well my pet ? 
 
 Helen. You haven't . . you haven't said good 
 morning properly yet. 
 
 Jambs. I was waiting for the opportunity. [Kissing 
 her.] Now this is my idea of absolute bliss; to be 
 down in the depths of the country, far, far away 
 from all the turmoil of life and politics and business. 
 I wonder why the newspaper's so late to-day. 
 
 Helen. What do we want with newspapers ? 
 
 Jambs. What indeed, my lovely one ? How nice 
 and cool your hands are. I like cool hands. [Kissing 
 them.] What a jolly ring that is. Was it a present ? 
 
 Helen. Yes. 
 
 James. Who gave it you ? 
 
 Helen. You did ; at least I like to think you did. 
 When I thought you were drowned I bought it so as 
 to feel as if we were really engaged. 
 
 James. A demned uncomfortable moist attach- 
 ment, eh ? 
 
 Helen. Oh, James, think of all those poor women ! 
 
 James. Oh, damn those poor women ! I didn't save 
 them, I tell you. I am sick of that Thompson who 
 wasn't me, the wrong Thompson, the usurping Perkin 
 Warbeck Thompson. I shall never get the rascal out 
 of your head. 
 
 Helen. I wonder what he was like, poor fellow. 
 
 James. Cast in an heroic mould, no doubt ; some- 
 thing on Latimer's lines, I shouldn't wonder. 
 
 Helen. Yes, but I always picture him as rather 
 smaller. 
 
64 THOMPSON act iii 
 
 James. Dear Helen ! 
 
 Helen. Dear James ! 
 
 James. That's right. Shut your eyes. It helps the 
 illusion. 
 
 Helen. What illusion ? 
 
 James. That I'm the other Thompson, the one who 
 was like Latimer, only rather smaller. 
 
 Helen. James, I believe you're jealous ! 
 
 James. Me ? Never ! I've read of people being 
 jealous in novels, but I've never . . . 
 
 Helen. [Angrt/.] Then I don't believe you've ever 
 really been in love ! 
 
 James. [Piqtied.^ Me never in love ? Why I never 
 knew such a man as I am ; I'm always falling in love. 
 
 Helen. [Jealous.] So that's the sort of man 
 you are ! 
 
 James. Deeper and deeper in love, I mean, with you, 
 
 Helen. Oh, is that true James ? 
 
 James. Can't you see it for yourself ? 
 
 Helen. You're so nice and kind to me. Dear 
 James ! I do love you so ; but somehow I wish 
 you were more . , . more , . . 
 
 James. More what, my pet ? 
 
 Helen. More English, more mediaeval ... I can't 
 express it exactly ; but I do so want you to live more 
 up to my ideal. Surely that's what women are for ? 
 
 James. Of course, to give ribbons for their knights 
 to wear in the tourney ; to be an inspiration and a 
 battle-cry : " Helen for ever, to Hell with the rest 1 " 
 
 Helen. Please don't laugh at everything, James. 
 
ACT III THOMPSON 65 
 
 How splendid they were, those old knights, going 
 about ridding the world of monsters. 
 James. Like Latimer and the lion, eh ? 
 Helen. I think the less said about that the better. 
 Captain Latimer was saving lives, while you were 
 lying asleep in the hammock. 
 
 James. Well, well, it takes all sorts to make a 
 world. It wouldn't do if we were all heroes. You 
 must have cowards, too ; otherwise when there's a 
 fight who's to run away ? 
 
 Helen. [Impatiently.] Of course, of course. 
 
 James. Besides, after all, who knows if heroes 
 really do any good ? We don't really know if Frohock 
 was in any actual danger. 
 
 Helen. What, right in the water, with the Hon 
 lashing his flanks on the bank ? 
 
 James. Oh, lashing his flanks ! He may have been 
 only wagging his tail . . . rather pleased at Qnding 
 Frohock, and only waiting for him to get out and lead 
 him back to his cage, when up comes the gallant 
 Captain with a gun . . . 
 
 Helen. You know you're talking nonsense. 
 
 James. And any way, the loss of a valuable lion 
 was a serious thing for the poor circus proprietors, 
 who have brought an action against Latimer for 
 £500. . . . 
 
 Helen. It's an abominable shame ! 
 
 James. Which they'll win, mind you. He'U have 
 to stump up. 
 
 Helen. And I suppose you approve ? 
 
 E 
 
66 THOMPSON act hi 
 
 James. Whereas if Frohock had been killed, his 
 mother wouldn't have got more than £300 at the 
 most under the Employers' Liability Act. 
 
 [Helen takes loose pink cuttings from am 
 album, and shakes them into the waste-paper 
 basket. 
 
 What are you up to ? 
 
 Helen. I'm throwing away the second volume of 
 the cuttings about you and your wretched little ship- 
 wreck. I fortunately hadn't stuck them in yet. 
 
 [She gets Miss Latimer's blue cuttings and a 
 paste-pot. 
 
 James. You spiteful little creature ! Just because 
 I tell you the unromantio truths of real life . . . 
 
 Helen. I never thought much of those shipwreck 
 adventures anyhow ; anybody can jump into the 
 water. 
 
 James. But think of the sharks ! Next to the bite 
 of the anopheles mosquito they say that a shark's is 
 the most dangerous. . . . 
 
 Helen. Besides, after all, you weren't there at all ; 
 whereas Captain Latimer certainly was. 
 
 James. Well, that does make a difference, I must 
 allow. 
 
 Helen. Oh, I wish I had your sang-froid-l • If I 
 said I wanted to break off our engagement, I believe 
 you'd only laugh. 
 
 Jambs. Ah, don't be angry with me, my little 
 Helen. I was only teasing. 
 
Acriii THOMPSON 67 
 
 Helen. [Falling into his arms.] Oh forgive me, 
 forgive me, James ! 
 
 James. There, there ! 
 
 Helen. I seem to be mad at times. I can't see 
 you as you really are. All the nobility that is hidden 
 away in you . . . 
 
 James. It's so well hidden. 
 
 Helen. I saw it all so clearly when I thought you 
 were drowned. . . . 
 
 James. Eaten, my pet. 
 
 Helen. [Angry.] Drowned, I say ! I prefer 
 drowned. Am I never to have my own way ? 
 
 James. There, there ! Have it as you like. 
 
 Helen. You're always trying to annoy me. No, 
 no ! Don't go away ! Darling, darling James, I've 
 got a secret I want to tell you — a great secret. 
 
 James. And what's the great secret, my own ? 
 
 Helen. We're to be married much sooner than we 
 thought. 
 
 James. To be married ? 
 
 Helen. Papa consents. [Showing him a letter. 
 
 James. Dear Papa ! 
 
 [Beading the letter cmd smiling. 
 
 Helen. And Mamma says, the sooner we get it 
 over it the better. 
 
 James. Have it out like men, eh ? And when's it 
 to be ? Come, let me know the worst. 
 
 Helen. In a fortnight. 
 
 James. In a fortnight ? From when ? 
 Helen. From now. 
 
68 THOMPSON act m 
 
 James. Good Lord ! But you can't do it ! Why, 
 dammy, the banns alone take three weeks. 
 
 Helbn. There won't be any banns. Mamma's sent 
 up to London and got a special licence. 
 
 James. That woman thinks of everything ! Oh, 
 why the devil can people never let well alone ? 
 Change, change, change ! As soon as you get into 
 one happy state everybody bands together to hustle 
 you out into another. 
 
 Helen. What do you mean, James ? Are you 
 dissatisfied ? 
 
 James. Me ? No, indeed ! I'm the only contented 
 man I know. All I ask is for things to go on for 
 ever as they are. 
 
 Helen. But they can't. 
 
 James. Here were we, as happy as two birds. I 
 was engaged ! Engaged to be married to Helen 
 Vaughan . . , What poetry ! What bliss ! I only 
 ask to be engaged to Helen Vaughan all my life. But 
 no, they're not satisfied ; they all begin worrying 
 at once, getting a house, talking of drains . . . 
 Drains ! Choosing chintzes and wall-papers . . . 
 
 Helen, I don't believe you reaUy want to be 
 married ! 
 
 James. Then, think of the wedding ! Think of 
 the bridegroom in a new frock coat and an idiotic 
 smile. . . , Oh, Thompson, Thompson ! The great, 
 wonderful Thompson of the " Gothenburg," I mean, 
 not this pitiful reality here ; I defy even you to look 
 a hero at your own wedding ! 
 
ACT III THOMPSON 69 
 
 Helen, We needn't drag him in, James. 
 
 Enter Mabt with the Daily Mail. 
 
 Maey. Oh, I beg pardon, sir. 
 
 Jambs. Come in, come in ! Everybody apologises. 
 Is that the paper ? [Exit Maey. 
 
 A fortnight, dammy, only a fortnight to enjoy this 
 quiet haven, far from the tumult. . . . Hullo, 
 Somerset had to follow on ; Kennedy got 6 wickets 
 for 35 . . . 
 
 Helen. If you want to read the newspaper you'd 
 better go into the garden. 
 
 James. You're not angry with me ? Now, come, 
 Helen . , , 
 
 Helen. Ah ! Don't touch me ! 
 
 James. Why, what's the matter ? 
 
 Helen. I hate you ! I hate you ! [Throwing 
 herself into his arms.] Oh James, James ! It's all so 
 dififerent from what I expected ! 
 
 James. What is ? 
 
 Helen. It is ; you are ; everything is. Oh, go 
 away ! Don't you see I want to be alone ? 
 
 James. I can't bear to leave you like this ; but if 
 you really mean it . . . 
 
 Helen. No, no ! Don't go ! I can't bear to be 
 left by myself. 
 
 James. Well, what the devil am I to do, then ? 
 
 Enter Geeald with golf-clubs. 
 Gbeald. Oh, I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm interrupting 
 you. 
 
70 THOMPSON act iii 
 
 James. Not a bit. Don't apologise. We were 
 just having a chat ; laughing and joking together, eh ? 
 
 Gerald. I was only passing through. 
 
 James. You're looking rather gloomy, old chap. 
 
 Gerald. I've been topping everything this 
 morning. 
 
 James. Ah, you must get down to them, you must 
 get down to them ! Here's a letter for you. I was 
 just going to have a look at the newspaper in the 
 garden. 
 
 [He goes out at the window. Helen goes to the 
 piamo and sings again softly. Gerald 
 reads his letter. 
 
 Gerald. As I hoped ! My application is granted : 
 it is my recall to India. 
 Helen. [Singing.] 
 
 For ah ! my spring of life is flown, 
 And I must live alone, alone . . . 
 
 [She cries. 
 Gerald. Miss Vaughan in tears ! This is too 
 much. Tell me what I can do for you. 
 Helen. Nothing ; go away ! 
 
 Gerald. In two days I shall be gone from here ; 
 but if a lifetime of devotion . . . Oh, Miss Vaughan, 
 since this is our last farewell, may I, just once in all 
 my life . . . 
 
 [He kisses her hand. 
 Enter Miss Latimer, dressed in black. 
 Miss Latimer. Well Gerald ? 
 
ACT III THOMPSON 71 
 
 Gerald. Aunt Harriet, I think I ought to 
 explain . . . 
 
 Miss Latimee. It certainly seems to need an 
 explanation. 
 
 Gerald. I trust you don't imagine . . . 
 
 Miss Latimee. I imagine nothing. 
 
 Gerald. I was only . . . Why, you've gone and 
 changed your dress. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Run along, and don't talk gammon 
 to me ! 
 
 [Exit Gerald. 
 
 Helen. Don't be angry with me, Miss Latimer. 
 
 Miss Latimee. I'm not in the least angry with 
 you, my dear. But oh, how I should like to know 
 what is going on in that funny little head of yours ! 
 
 Helen. I don't think I know myself. 
 
 Miss Latimee. What are you crying for ? 
 
 Helen. I don't know. 
 
 Miss Latimer. There, there ; now sit down like a 
 good girl and tell me : Are you very much in love 
 with Mr. Thompson ? 
 
 Helen. Yes, of course, I am. 
 
 Miss Latimer. When did you first fall in love with 
 him? 
 
 Helen. Years and years ago, when I was quite a 
 little girl. 
 
 Miss Latimee. Quite a little girl? But you've 
 only known him three years. 
 
 Helen. Yes, but I was in love with him before. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Before you knew him ? 
 
72 THOMPSON act in 
 
 Helek. I used to imagine the man I was going to 
 be in love with ; I wrote all about him in my diary. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Oh ! 
 
 Helen. Then, when I met James I knew at once 
 that it was him. 
 
 Miss Latimer. I see ; he was just like him, was he ? 
 
 Helen. Yes ; at least, not exactly like, of course. 
 
 Miss Latimer. No, one couldn't expect that. And 
 when were you most in love with him, before you met 
 him or after ? 
 
 Helen. Oh, Miss Latimer, of course it was after. 
 
 Miss Latimer. And most of all when you thought 
 he was drowned ? 
 
 Helen. Yes, that was when he seemed most like 
 the man in my diary. ... I sat up last night 
 reading it. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Reading what ? 
 
 Helen. My diary. 
 
 Miss Latimer. So that accounts for it ! 
 
 Helen. How do you mean ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. This Mr. Thompson didn't quite 
 carry out . . . Oh, you stupid little idiot ! Here you 
 are going to be married in a fortnight and you detest 
 the man you're going to marry ! 
 
 Helen. No, no ! I adore him ! 
 
 Miss Latimer. You positively detest him. 
 
 Helen. No, at the bottom of my heart I love him 
 just the same as ever. 
 
 Miss Latimer. He's not the same man as the man 
 you've been in love with at all ; that was a man you 
 
ACTin THOMPSON 73 
 
 made up for yourself, combined with another who was 
 drowned! Oh dear, oh dear! what's the good of 
 being in love with people who are dead, or people who 
 aren't born yet? That's morbid — that's ridiculous. 
 One ought to be in love with people who are alive — 
 nice healthy people that one can marry and be 
 comfortable with. 
 
 HBLEsr. Don't scold me. 
 
 Miss Latimer. No, no. I've been through it all 
 myself. I kept a diary once. 
 
 Helen. Oh, was there a man in your diary 
 too? 
 
 Miss Latimer. A man, my dear? There were 
 hundreds of them. I was a perfect Mormon ... in 
 my diary. Now, I'll tell you what I'm going to do ; 
 I'm going to get this wedding put off for a little while, 
 tDl we've had time to think it over properly. 
 
 Helen. Can weddings be put off? 
 
 Miss Latimer, Weddings by special licence can. 
 
 Helen. Oh, if one could ! Just to give me time to 
 get back into my right mind again. 
 
 Miss Latimer. The only thing is, how to set about 
 it. [Mrs. Vaughan laughs without. 
 
 There's your mother. I'll talk to her about it. 
 
 Helen. Oh, Miss Latimer ! 
 
 Miss Latimer. Now, give me a good hug and run 
 up to your room. 
 
 Helen. Oh, if only I were going to be an old maid 
 like you ! 
 
 Miss Latimer, So you shall, my dear. You're just 
 
74 THOMPSON act m 
 
 cut out to be an old maid. We'll sit side by side and 
 knit stockings together. 
 
 [Exit Helen by one door ; enter Mrs. Vaughan 
 hy another, in a new gown cmd toque, 
 looking her best. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. There ! What do you think of 
 that? 
 
 [She turns about, exhibiting her frock, talking 
 about it volubly, and looking into a glass. 
 At last she notices Miss Latimer's clothes. 
 But you've got on a new frock, too ! Dear, dear, a 
 mourning frock! It's wonderful how becoming 
 mourning is to some complexions. I often wish I 
 were in mourning for somebody. And I think I like 
 your waist up there ; they have been getting lower 
 now for years, until one sometimes wonders where 
 they will stop. And if one may ask, dear Miss 
 Latimer, who is it that you are in mourning for ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. For my brother-in-law. Jack 
 Everard. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Oh dear, I'm sorry it's for such a 
 near relation. 
 
 Miss Latimbe. Ah, well, of course there are com- 
 pensations for all our misfortunes. He was a can- 
 tankerous old fellow and quarrelled with all his 
 relatives. It was quite a surprise when we heard he 
 had left all his money to Gerald. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Left all his money to Gerald? 
 Why, when was this ? 
 
 Miss Latimbr. About a week ago. 
 
ACT III THOMPSON 75 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. But I never heard a word about 
 it. Why all this mystery ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. That was Gerald's doing. He was 
 modest about it. 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. Modest about his uncle dying ? 
 
 Miss Latimee. No, about the money. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. And how much did it amount to ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. About £1500 a year. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. £1500 a year! 
 
 Miss Latimer. And a house in Devonshire. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. But, my dear Miss Latimer, it's 
 quite a fortune. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Yes, he has become quite a parti, 
 hasn't he ? However, I've something far more im- 
 portant to talk of now. Matilda, this wedding can't 
 possibly come off. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. What wedding ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. Helen's wedding. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Whatever do you mean ? Helen's 
 wedding not come off? 
 
 Miss Latimer. By hook or by crook, it's got to be 
 stopped. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. And why, pray ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. Because it would be a sin ; because 
 your daughter is not in love with Mr. Thompson. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Not in love with Mr. Thompson ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. How could she be ? How could 
 anyone be ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Why, he's one of the most charm- 
 ing .. . 
 
76 THOMPSON act m 
 
 Miss Latimek. He's only a half -man ; he has no 
 soul. 
 
 Mks. Vaughan. Hasn't he? "Why really, I've 
 known him for a long time now, and I've never 
 noticed anything of that kind. 
 
 Miss Latimee. And as for Helen, she's not only 
 not in love with him, but without knowing it, she's in 
 love with some one else. 
 
 Mrs. Vauqhan. Oh no ! Oh dear no ! 
 
 Miss Latimer. It's a fact. 
 
 Mas. Yaughan. Who do you mean then ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. Gerald. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Captain Latimer ? Why, whatever 
 makes you think that ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. Only ten minutes ago, when I came 
 in here there he was kissing her hand. 
 
 Mrs. Vadghan. Kissing her hand ? Oh dear no ! 
 There must be some mistake. 
 
 Miss Latimer. Not on my part. Of course he 
 may have mistaken her for some one else, or she may 
 have mistaken him for Mr. Thompson. But there 
 didn't seem to be any mistake about it. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. But then . . . then in that case. . . . 
 Surely it seems as if he must be in love with her ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. It does seem like it, doesn't it? 
 The more so as he proposed to her a week ago. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. He proposed to her? But she 
 never told me a word. 
 
 Miss Latimer. A girl's mother is the last person 
 in the world that she's likely to confide in nowadays. 
 
ACT III THOMPSON 77 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. But if she's in love with him, 
 whatever made her refuse him ? 
 
 Mias Latimer. She refused him because she thought 
 she was in love with Mr. Thompson. But a week of 
 his company has been enough to dispel that illusion ; 
 and now at last, at the bottom of her heart, I believe 
 she knows that Gerald is the right man. 
 
 Mhs. Vaughan, Then why don't they do some- 
 thing ? 
 
 Miss Latimee, Because Helen's a goose and Gerald's 
 a hero out of an old-fashioned melodrama, always 
 ready to sacrifice himself and everybody else if there's 
 a sufficiently bad reason. It comes of all those six- 
 penny novels people read in India. The white ants 
 eat all the more expensive books, so they can read 
 nothing but trash. No, we must help them . . . 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. How delightful it would be. . . , 
 Gerald is such a dear boy ; and fifteen . . , But 
 what about James ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. Give him the sack. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Oh dear, oh dear, why is every- 
 thing so complicated nowadays? If only duelling 
 were still in fashion . . . 
 
 Miss Latimer. My dear Matilda ! 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Think how it would simplify 
 matters if dear Gerald were to kill James, or even 
 if James were to kill dear Gerald. Oh dear, oh 
 dear ! And will he leave the army now ? 
 
 Miss Latimer. Not yet. He's going back to India 
 for a time. 
 
78 THOMPSON act m 
 
 Mas. Vaughan. To India ; fancy ! How Helen 
 would adore India ! She is so romantic. If places 
 are only distant and disagreeable enough, she wants 
 to go to them at once. The snakes and scorpions 
 would be a positive delight to her. 
 
 Miss Latimbk. But my dear Matilda, we are being 
 a little " previous." We've got to stop this marriage 
 with Mr. Thompson first. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Perhaps I had better speak to him 
 about it. 
 
 Miss Latimbk. I fancy that's the usual thing. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. But what am I to say ? 
 
 Miss Latimbr. Tell him the truth. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. No, no ; I never like to tell the 
 truth if I can avoid it. I shall tell him that John 
 refuses. He doesn't of course; he's delighted; but 
 that is evidently the most tactful course ! James, I 
 will say ... 
 
 Miss Latimer. There he is coming up the path. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. O, heavens ! You must help me, 
 Miss Latimer. 
 
 Miss Latimer. No thank you, I'm going to write 
 letters in the morning-room. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Oh dear, oh dear, I foresee the 
 most dreadful scene. His despair will be something 
 terrible to witness. 
 
 [Exit Miss Latimer. 
 \Enter James, with newspaper, from the 
 ga/rden. 
 
 James. Hullo, where's Helen ? 
 
ACT III THOMPSON 79 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Come here, James ; I wish to speak 
 to you. 
 
 James. Dear me, what a solemn exordium ! That's 
 a lovely new frock of yours. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I am going to be very truthful 
 with you. 
 
 James. How dreadful it sounds. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Prepare yourself for a serious blow. 
 
 James. Let fly ! 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. The fact is that I have heard 
 from my husband this morning. 
 
 James. Aha! 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. And he refuses his consent to your 
 marriage with Helen. 
 
 James. Oh? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Positively refuses it in spite of all 
 that I can say to the contrary. He is very firm. 
 You know my husband. I am very sorry of course ; 
 but I cannot fly in my husband's face. I'm afraid 
 you'll be very angry. You'll think it very unreason- 
 able of him . . . 
 
 James. Unreasonable ? Not at all. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. You don't think so ? You're not 
 angry with him ? 
 
 James. Why should I be ? It's just what I should 
 do myself in his place. I seem to be about as 
 ineligible a son-in-law as you could easily have 
 found him. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Well really, it is very kind of you 
 to say so. 
 
80 THOMPSON act hi 
 
 James. I've no money and no prospects. I'm 
 not even a hero. It was the other Thompson who 
 was the hero, and perhaps he had money too ; in which 
 case it's a pity he was drowned. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Well really, you take it so nicely 
 that you encourage me to be a little more candid. 
 
 Jambs. Yes do ! You see Helen showed me Mr. 
 Vaughan's letter, consenting enthusiastically. Now 
 what is it really ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Well, really, James, since you 
 drive me to it ; it isn't John ; it's Helen herself. 
 
 James. She disapproves ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I have discovered, to my great 
 chagrin, that Helen is no longer in love with you. 
 
 James. She's not ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Unfortunately, no. 
 
 James. There you are ! I was afraid it wouldn't 
 last. How jolly it was for the time ! So she doesn't 
 want to marry me after all ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. That's just about what it comes to. 
 
 James. When did she tell you ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. It wasn't me ; it was Miss Latimer 
 she told. 
 
 James. Oh Miss Latimer's in it ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Yes. 
 
 James. Then that settles it. If Miss Latimer's 
 against me, it's all over. I pass. 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. Now let us have no scene, I beg. 
 
 James. What do you take me for ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. It certainly seems an ill-chosen 
 
ACTni THOMPSON 81 
 
 moment to tell a man a fortnight before his wedding 
 that his bride wants to break it off. 
 
 Jambs. It's the very best moment if it hasn't been 
 done before. Poor little Helen ! 
 
 Mbs. Vaughan. I know how you must feel. 
 
 James, Oh, me? Oh, as for me, to tell you the 
 truth, in a way it's a kind of relief to me. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. A kind of relief ! What do you 
 mean? 
 
 Jambs. Ever since I arrived here a week ago 
 I've felt that I was in a false position. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Why what has happened ? 
 
 Jambs. I wondered if I oughtn't to say something. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Come James, be more explicit. 
 
 James. Well you see, when you, so to speak, 
 betrothed Helen and myself ; for I think you'll admit 
 that we didn't have much hand in it ourselves . . . 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Go on, go on ! 
 
 James. The fact is that I was already . . . 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Yes, yes ! 
 
 Jambs. I was already engaged to be married tc 
 somebody else. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Engaged to be married to some- 
 body else ? 
 
 James. Yes, a girl I met in America ; a Miss Fish, 
 Millicent Fish, one of the Kentucky Fishes. There 
 were two Fishes went over in the Mayflower and 
 settled in Virginia . . . 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Engaged to a Miss Fish ! 
 
 .Tames, Such a nice girl ! Not so artistic as Helen, 
 
 F 
 
82 THOMPSON act in 
 
 but with that charming freshness that they have 
 in the Southern States. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. But do you dare to sit there and 
 tell me that all the time you have been philandering 
 here with Helen you have been engaged to a girl in 
 America ? 
 
 James. A Miss Fish — Millicent Fish — one of the 
 Kentucky Fishes. There were two Fishes who . . . 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. But, how dare you ? Why didn't 
 you tell us at once that you were engaged already ? 
 
 James, Well ! really, Mrs. Vaughan, you gave me no 
 time. I came in to lunch at half-past one, if you re- 
 member, and by four o'clock the whole thing was over. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Helen had a right to know. 
 
 Jambs. So had Millicent. But it wasn't very easy 
 to tell either of them under the circumstances. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I naturally imagined you were still 
 in love with her. 
 
 James. So I was ! So I am ! I adore her ! If I 
 hadn't been engaged to Millicent there's nothing I 
 should have liked better than to be engaged to 
 Helen. It was the combination of the two that made 
 it so awkward. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. And what did you mean to do in 
 the end ? 
 
 James. Oh, I hadn't any plans. Anything short 
 of bigamy. I hoped to keep out of that. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. It is too terrible that I should have 
 been deceived like this ! I like a man to be faithful ! 
 Why weren't you faithful to Helen ? 
 
ACT III THOMPSON 83 
 
 James. But you told me to go away and forget her. 
 You remember ? Those were your very words. Well, 
 I went away and though I didn't actually forget her, 
 I consoled myself with some one else. Wasn't that 
 what you meant ? 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. You heartless wretch ! Are you 
 ready to be engaged to every girl that comes along ? 
 
 James. Oh, no ! How can you think it of me ? 
 She must have the right coloured eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. And what are the right coloured 
 eyes, pray ? 
 
 James. Well, it's a kind of chestnut with compli- 
 cations. Whenever I meet that, I'm done for. 
 Unfortunately, it's not an uncommon shade. 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. You had better hurry back to 
 America at once. Young men like you ought to live 
 in Utah. 
 
 James. Now, really, Mrs. Yaughan, you mustn't 
 be hard on me. The fact is, I seem to have behaved 
 very well in extremely trying circumstances. If any 
 one is to blame, it's you. 
 
 Mrs. Yaughan. Me ! indeed ! 
 
 James. If it hadn't been for you, none of this 
 trouble would have arisen at all. Under pretence of 
 being a little airy, flibberty-gibberty coquette, you 
 are the most designing, meddhng, managing busy- 
 body that ever went about poking their pretty 
 finger into other people's pies. Who was it said I 
 had been shipwrecked ? Who was it said I had saved 
 people's lives? Who was it threw us into each 
 
84 THOMPSON act in 
 
 other's arms a week ago ? Who was it made up that 
 ridiculous scene two years ago, when she and I were 
 made solemnly to abjure an engagement which we 
 neither of us had the slightest idea we had ever 
 entered on ? 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. But I saw you myself. 
 
 James. Oh, the slightest flirtation. Upon my 
 word, is no one safe ? I shall warn Latimer. 
 
 Mes. Vatjghan. No ! no ! 
 
 James. If any one comes into a room and finds 
 him kissing Helen's hand . . . 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. They have ! He was ! 
 
 James. "Well, marry them then. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. I will. It's as good as settled ! 
 
 Jambs. So that's it, is it ? I have a rival ! I 
 might have known ! 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. Ah, you're angry at last ! 
 
 James. On the contrary ; that sets my mind at 
 rest. I had some remorse at the thought that I was 
 leaving Helen perhaps to tedium and solitude ; but 
 now that I know there will at any rate be no solitude, 
 whatever the tedium . . . 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. That's right ! Abuse your rival. 
 
 James. Come, we mustn't quarrel; just when I 
 am off. 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. You are off ? 
 
 James. I shall go at once. 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. To'day ? 
 
 James. I shall start for America this afternoon if 
 there's a boat j and there J shall stay for good. 
 
ACT III THOMPSON 85 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. You'll stay there ? [He nods.] 
 
 You won't come here any more ? [He shakes his head.] 
 Dear Mr. Thompson ! The idea that I shall never 
 see you again has created quite a revulsion of feeling 
 in me. I positively like you now. I'm sorry you're 
 going. You do make things so easy. 
 
 James. How pretty you look in that hat ! 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. It isn't a hat. But whatever will 
 people say ? 
 
 Jaues. I don't care. I don't subscribe to a press- 
 cutting association. 
 
 Mes. Vaughan. Ah, you satirical creature ! 
 
 James. Well, I hope she'll be happy with Latimer. 
 He's a noble fellow. He always reminds me of one of 
 the characters in the Old Testament. You remember 
 what Jacob said of Issachar ? He was so brave, so 
 good, so patient, he called him a strong ass . . . 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. A strong ass ? 
 
 James, A strong ass between two burdens. 
 
 Mrs. Vaughan. Me and Helen I suppose ? You 
 wicked man ! Well, I suppose I must forgive you 
 now. Would you like to say good-bye to Helen ? 
 
 James. No, no ! I'll simply vanish. I'll just step 
 back into my punt, like Lohengrin, and go. Good- 
 bye. [Glanemg round,] Is nobody going to come in ? 
 [He kisses her hand, amd goes out by the Fr&nch 
 window, waving his hand, and smiling. 
 Good-bye ! 
 
 Mrs. Vaughah. Good-bye ! 
 
 CUKTAIN. 
 
r/ie COMPLETE DRAMATIC WORKS o/ 
 
 ST. JOHN HANKIN 
 
 WiM an INTRODUCTION iyJOHN DRINKWATER 
 
 LIMITED EDITION DE LUXE IN THREE VOLUMES 
 
 CONTENTS 
 VOLUME ONE 
 
 Critical and Biographical Introduction 
 The Two Mr. Wetherbys 
 The Return of the Prodigal 
 
 VOLUME TWO 
 
 The Charity that Began at Home 
 The Cassilis Engagement 
 The Last of the De MuUins 
 
 VOLUME THREE 
 The Constant Lover 
 The Burglar that Failed 
 Essays : On Happy Endings 
 
 Puritanism and the English Stage 
 Bernard Shaw as Critic 
 An Art Theatre for London 
 The Collected Plays of Oscar Wilde 
 The Need for an Endowed Theatre 
 
 This edition, limited to 950 sets for sale in 
 England and America, is printed on a specially 
 manufactured pure rag paper, and hound in 
 lemon yellow buckram with gilt sides and gilt top. 
 Each voVume has a frontispiece in photogravure. 
 
SOME PRESS OPINIONS 
 
 SPECTATOR 
 "Admirers of St. John Hankin's work will 
 welcome this beautifully produced edition of his 
 plays and essays upon the drama." 
 
 TIMES 
 "As we read through these collected plays 
 two things soon become clear — that Hankin had 
 a very keen ' sense of the theatre,' and that he 
 was more of a pioneer than we had supposed 
 . . . Mr. John Drinkwater contributes a sound 
 and interesting introduction to this edition . . . 
 This delicate sense of form that animates every 
 sentence of his dialogue and every play in his 
 collected drama, until, whatever its faults, each 
 play is flashing with the changing lights of the 
 captured comic spirit," 
 
 SATURDAY REVIEW 
 " This is a really beautiful edition of Hankin, 
 and it is admirably introduced by Mr. John 
 Drinkwater. ... If you be unacquainted with 
 Hankin you will have the delight of reading his 
 plays for the first time. If you already know 
 the plays, you will have the delight of possess- 
 ing them in a manner worthy of their matter." 
 ■DAILY TELEGRAPH 
 " This admirable edition." 
 
 OBSERVER : 
 " Every student of the theatre will welcome 
 this definitive edition of the dramatic writing of 
 the late Mr. St. John Hankin. His quiet dis- 
 tinguished work, with its wit and its clarity of 
 phrasing, both in his actual plays and in the 
 essays on the theatre (they are, we are glad to 
 
SOME PRESS OPINIONS— continued 
 
 say, included in the edition) was of far greater 
 value than appeared perhaps to many at the 
 time. The edition, on the general excellence of 
 which we most heartily congratulate the pub- 
 lisher, is a worthy memorial of the man of 
 letters Mr. Hankin essentially was. The intro- 
 duction, too, by Mr. John Drinkwater, is com- 
 petent and clear. 
 
 ATHENMVM 
 " Here, with all the advantages of clear, bold 
 print and fine paper, is the definitive edition of 
 St. John Hanlan's dramatic works. . . . Viewed 
 as a whole what a mass of entertainment they 
 provide, what observation they reveal, what 
 gratitude they merit! Members of the pro- 
 fessional, business, and country-house classes 
 file before us in procession, and each of them is 
 individualized by attrition with his or her 
 group. All the time we are learning to know 
 them we are given opportunities for laughter. 
 They are more communicative than their 
 counterparts in real life. It is one of the 
 features of St. John Hankin's dialogue that it 
 is ideally correct, but conventionally exagge- 
 rated ; that his characters, like many of Mr. 
 Shaw's, utter their secret thoughts aloud. But 
 if they are more self -revealing than men and 
 women usually are, their lack of reticence can, 
 as a rule, be artistically defended. Meantime, 
 about all their conversation there is the stamp 
 of style and personality, which, as Mr. Drink- 
 water suggests, may help them to the larger au- 
 dience which the author deserved in his lifetime."