I ■3 1 al ^~^ - - «M <- ^ P / oS , ' S "^_ Suppuq n^H PI o e3 M p © o £ cc oS & ,a +3 Pi O p s w cS P 0) m P o w £ ELIZA COMES TO STAY ACT I The Scene ^s the Breakfast-room in the Honble. Sandy Verrall's Flat in London. It is most charmingly furnished, everything that a luxurious man about Town could desire is there. There is a door a little l. of c. opening into the Hall of the Flat and showing the Hall door beyond. There is another door up r. above fireplace, there are deep windows r.c. The Hall door bell rings and Herbert, a mos : immaculate man-servant goes up and opens the door. Man's Voice {outside). Mr. Verrall. Herbert. Yes, bring it in. [And two carmen bring in a rocking-horse, its head is tied up in brown paper.) Put it clown there. (The men put it down l.) ist Man. I'm a bit of a blood with the 'ounds meself. (They go out into the Hall.) 2nd Man (holding out paper to Herbert). Sign, matey. (Herbert signs paper — then closes the Hall door on the men.) (Sandy Verrall comes in r.) Sandy. Hello ! Herbert ! It's come — splendid. I suppose there isn't room for it in the nursery. 7 8 ELIZA COMES TO STAY Herbert. I'm afraid not, sir. Sandy. Never mind, it can stay there, I rather like the look of it there. (Taking paper off horse.) How exciting to be on intimate terms with a rocking- horse again. What did you say the nurse's name was ? Herbert. Allaway, sir — Ann Allaway. Sandy. Ann Allaway. No H., I remember. Send her to me, will you ? Did a parcel of books come ? Herbert (as he goes out). There is a parcel on the table, sir. (Exit r.) Sandy. Good, good. (He goes to table, cuts the string with the bread-knife and undoes the parcel.) Here we are — The Dumpy Book and The Podgy Book and Chatterbox. How I used to loathe Chatterbox when I was a little boy, but I suppose it's the right thing for little girls to read — but after all, Herbert, she may not be old enough to read. (He has been looking at the books and has not realized Herbert's absence.) Where is Herbert ? (Mrs. Allaway, a plump, elderly, most respectable- looking female comes in r. and comes down to r. of table c.) Mrs. Allaway. You wish to see me, sir ? Sandy (putting down the books and sitting l.c). Oh ! Ah ! Yes. Mrs. Allaway, you're the nurse. Now let me see, have you ever been a nurse before ? Mrs. Allaway. Yes, sir. Sandy. Of course you have, or you couldn't be one now, could you? Foolish of me. Now about, this little girl, it's a very serious matter, you know. I never had a little girl before — it's rather a puzzle for me, but I can rely on you, can't I ? Mrs, Allaway. Yes, sir. ELIZA COMES TO STAY 9 Sandy. I mean you'll see she has her food regu- larly, and all that. Mrs. Allaway. Yes, sir. Sandy. And is there a nice fire in the nursery ? Mrs. Allaway. Yes, sir. Sandy. I don't suppose she really wants a fire — such a nice warm day, but little children like fires in their nursery — don't they ? Mrs. Allaway. Yes, sir. Sandy. And I want her to have everything she likes — we won't spoil her, of course, but we'll just give her everything she likes. You see, she hasn't got anybody in the wide — wide world to look after her except you and me. Mrs. Allaway. Poor little thing, sir, it do seem tragic. Sandy. Now will you hear her prayers when she goes to bed, or shall I ? Mrs. Allaway. I will, sir. Sandy. Good. That's all right, and then you'll read her to sleep. Mrs. Allaway. No, sir, I don't hold with that. Sandy. Good, no reading to sleep — don't hold with that. Now does she take her meals with me or does she take them with you in the nursery ? Mrs. Allaway. That's as you please, sir. Sandy. As I please, good — it will I suppose de- pend on circumstances. I told you I wouldn't get a perambulator, because I didn't know her size — if she wants one, she must have it. You can get it at the stores. I've got arc n (-horse, you see, to be on the safe side. She may be here at any moment. Mr. Jordan has gone to fetch her. He went off by the nine thirty train this morning. (He goes to door c. and calls.) Herbert ! Bring me that paper-covered book that' j on the table beside my bed. (He comes back into room and stands in front of table.) I've got a book on the subject of young children, nurse. I read most of it last night — quite a lot of it was inter- 10 ELIZA COMES TO STAY esting — very interesting — but a good deal of it didn't seem to apply to me, it's called Dr. Chavasse's advice to a mother. Do you know it ? Mrs. Allaway. Yes, sir. (Herbert enters c. with the book — Sandy takes it and opens it.) (Exit Herbert c.) Sandy. Ah, here it is. I wonder why Dr. Cha- vasse put so many bits of poetry into it ; they don't seem to me quite necessary — still it's a very interest- ing book, and it may be useful to turn to in an emer- gency — Advice to a Mother. You, of course, are a mother, Mrs. Allaway ? Mrs. Allaway. Seven, sir. Sandy. Seven — ah ! Then I suppose you don't need advice. I'm not a mother, so I do. Mrs. Allaway. You don't know how old the little girl is, sir ? Sandy. I haven't the least idea — five, six — seven, perhaps eight. Won't it be nice to have a little golden-haired, blue-eyed child playing about the flat, making the rafters ring with her happy laughter ? (Puts book on table.) Mrs. Allaway. I don't hold with noisy children in a flat, sir. Sandy. Oh, you don't hold with noisy children in a flat — good. Perhaps you're right, and after all there aren't any rafters are there — so it doesn't matter whether they ring or not. Well, nurse, I think we've done all we can for the moment — all we can do now is to wait the little lady's arrival. I think I'll go back to my study and read another play. (Picks up play from under table.) I'm reading plays for a lady friend of mine who is going to take a theatre. I'm getting so sick of the job. You do like the rocking-horse, don't you ? Mrs. Allaway. Some children take to them, some don't. ELIZA COMES TO STAY 11 Sandy. Oh, she's sure to like riding — her father was in a Cavalry regiment — he was a splendid fellow — he saved my life, ye know. However, I'll tell you about that another time — I must go and read this play. (Herbert enters c. and comes to the table with some breakfast dishes.) Sandy. By Jove, I forgot my breakfast, but I'm too rattled this morning to think of anything and much too excited to eat. I don't think I shall man- age anything but a cup of tea and a bit of dry toast. Herbert. Very good, sir. (Sandy goes off r.) Herbert (to Mrs. Allaway). I've never known him so excited about anything as he is about th:'s. Mrs. Allaway. Well, it's a novel experience for a young man. I'll go andTook after my nursery fire, (Exit r.) [The Hall door bell rings, Herbert goes up and opens it, and Alexander Verrall comes in. He is a grim-visaged gentleman of about 60, dressed in a somewhat old-fashioned style — as he comes in the clock strikes 12.) Verrall. Twelve o'clock, precisely the time I meant to arrive. My nephew at home, Herbert ? Herbert. Yes, Mr. Verrall. Verrall. That's fortunate. Is Lady Elizabeth here ? (Crosses to r.c.) Herbert. No, sir. Verrall. She's late then — unlike her. (He puts his somewhat antediluvian top In J upon the breakfast- table.) Your master lunches early. Herbert. This is breakfast, sir. Verrall. To be sure- — how foolish of me. (The Hall bell rings again.) 12 ELIZA COA/m TO ST \Y (Herbert attends to it. Lady Elizabeth Penny- broke enters, she is a tall, angular old lady dressed well out of the fashion and with a veil that seems to inconvenience her nose — her face dimly reminds one of a horse.) Verrall (advances to her). Ah, Elizabeth. Lady Elizabeth (bushing up her veil and peering at him). Ah, Alexander, is that you ? I'm early. (Sits in armchair l.c.) Verrall. You're not — you're late. Herbert, it might be as well if you told my nephew that I am here, and that Lady Elizabeth is here. (Sits on settee r.) Herbert. Yes, sir. (Herbert goes out r.) Verrall. What trouble is Sandy in now ? Lady Elizabeth. His letter to me said that he had something startling to communicate. Verrall. Practically — what he wrote to me. (Herbert re-enters and comes down to L. of table c.) Verrall (chuckling). Did you tell Mr. Sandy I'm here ? Herbert. Yes, sir. Verrall. What did he say ? Herbert. Damn, sir. Verrall. Oh ! Lady Elizabeth. And what did he say when he heard / was here ? Herbert. Just the same, my lady, but a trifle more softly. Verrall. These expressions must convey a different meaning in London than they do in the country. Herbert. Very probably, sir. The master told me to tell you what he'd said — and I was to give your ladyship and you, sir, his blessing — because he didn't mean it. The master is a little put out this morning. ELIZA COMES TO STAY 13 (Herbert takes Mr. Verrall's hat from the table.) Verrall. That's my hat. (Rises.) Herbert. I was about to place it on the rack in the hall, sir. Mr. Verrall may come in to breakfast at any moment. Verrall. I'll take care of it, please, that hat's been sat on once already. (Herbert gravely handing the hat to Mr. Verrall.) Herbert. Indeed, sir ! Verrall. With your permission (He carefully replaces it on the table. Herbert goes out.) Lady Elizabeth. The proper place for a hat is a head or a hall. Verrall. That depends entirely on the hat. (Sitting.) (The Hon. Sandy Verrall comes in r.) Sandy. Auntie, my dear, how are you ? How rippin' of you to call at this ungodly hour. (Her- bert enters c. with teapot, he puts it on table.) Uncle Alexander, you're lookin' top hole as usual. Do you mind if I have a little snack ? All right, Herbert, I'll manage. Herbert. Very good, sir. (He goes out c.) Sandy. You have breakfasted, Uncle Alexander ? Verrall (snaps). Eight o'clock. Sandy. Eight. Top hole. (Sits top of table c.) Verrall. Wha*t do you mean by that, sir ? Sandy. I haven't the least idea. (He looks blandly at Stoop, as he picks hat off table.) Your hat May I remove it, it takes my thoughts from my tea. (Stoop rises and takes it from him and goes back to his seat.) Lady Elizabeth. I took the slow train. I wanted to think over your communication, I can't think when I'm rattled. 1 4 ELIZV COMES TO STAY Sandy (springs from the breakfast-table and goes across to Lady Pennybroke.) Can't you, aunt ? Nor can I. / can't think when I'm rattled, and oh ! my gracious, I'm so rattled now. That's why I wrote to you, an extraordinary thing that has just happened to me. I've had a sort of legacy left me. Verrall (starting forward). My dear Sandy u (Rising.) Lady Elizabeth. How large ? Sandy. I don't know — about the usual size, I suppose. Verrall. What's that ? Sandy. About three feet, shouldn't you think ? Lady Elizabeth. Three feet ? Sandy. It's a girl — a — a — dear little golden- haired girl. Verrall (gasping). .• A girl. (Sinks back on to settee.) Lady Elizabeth. A golden-haired girl. Sandy. Yes, isn't it lucky I'm fond of children ? Verrall. What are you going to do with it ? Sandy. What can I do with it ? Verrall. Send it back. Sandy. Where to ? Verrall. Where it came from. Sandy. I would if I could, but I can't. Verrall. Have you got it here ? Sandy. No, not yet. I've sent Jordon to Berk- shire to fetch it. I expect it every minute. Lady Elizabeth. And what are we to infer from this ridiculous rigmarole ? Sandy. There's nothing to infer — that's the extra- ordinary part of it. I'll show you the letter explainin' my legacy. And you can give me your advice. (Going up to door r.) Verrall. When did it occur ? Lady Elizabeth. And who left it to you ? Sandy. f I'm turnin' the spare bedroom into a nursery now. ELIZA COMES TO STAY 15 Lady Elizabeth and Verrall. What ! ! Sandy. Can't help it. No way out, wait till you read the letter. I'll get it. (The Hon. Sandy hurries off r.) (Lady Elizabeth and Stoop turn and gaze at each other in bewilderment.) Lady Elizabeth. Alexander, what does this mean ? Verrall. Elizabeth, I smell a rat. (Putting his finger to his nose.) Lady Elizabeth. You shock me. Verrall [chuckles). I didn't always live in the country, Elizabeth. Lady Elizabeth. Oh, if Sandy has got into mis- • chief Gregory might hear of it, and alter his will (Sandy re-enters with an open letter in his hand and crosses to Lady Pennybroke.) Sandy. Now, Aunt Elizabeth, just you cast your eye over that — and see what you think of it. (She takes the letter in grim silence, adjusts her spectacles, and begins to read the letter. Sandy watches her breathlessly .) Verrall (clearing his throat). I really think, Sandy Sandy. Do be quiet, please — it's a most extra- ordinary letter she's readin'. (Lady Pennybroke finishes the letter in silence, then returns it to Sandy.) Verrall. May I peruse- Sandy (handing him the letter). Certainly. You see I've shown you this because it's a family matter, and (he beams honestly at them both) with all your faults you're both sportsmen at bottom. Of course, you won't breathe a word of it outside this room. 16 ELIZA COMES TO STAY Lady Elizabeth and Verrall. Not a word. (Verrall puts on his glasses and reads — Sandy watches him fascinated.) Lady Elizabeth. It begins to dawn on me that Sandy. Be quiet, please. He's readin' it. Verrall (as he finishes the letter and returns it to Sandy). I am speechless. Sandy. Thank you. Can't you picture it, Aunt Elizabeth — a little, golden-haired, blue-eyed cherub, laughin' and singin' about the place, turnin' every- thing into sunshine and all that — it's top hole, ain't it, Uncle Alec ? Verrall. I saw nothing in the letter about blue eyes Lady Elizabeth. Or golden hair. Sandy. One can't put everything in a letter, one must take something for granted. Dear little Major Van dam ! Verrall. Who's he ? Sandy. I believe, not unconnected with the Salvation Army. Verrall. Van dam, Van dam. (Suddenly with an idea.) That's the man on the Matterhorn glacier who got you back. Sandy. That's the man. Well, you know, he saved my life and it was a hundred to one on his losing his own in the effort. I gave him my word that any mortal thing man could do for him in return, I'd do, and he asks me to cherish his little child. Verrall. He's dead. Sandy. Yes, dead — quite dead — and I've sent for the child — who is destitute in a — practically a work- house, I suppose, in Reading. I'm so glad he got my letter swearing to do it before he died. It must have been a relief to him now, as he says here, you see (referring to letter) leaves the poor little thing, friendless, alone — destitute. ELIZA COMES TO STAY 17 Verrall. You have definitely accepted the trust ? Sandy. Definitely, of course. He saved my life. Lady Elizabeth. Can you afford to increase your establishment like this ? Verrall. Have you got any means beyond the seven hundred a year your father left you ? Sandy. Of course I haven't, but I don't worry about money, there's a lot of that knocking about to be had for the asking. Verrall (rising and clearing his throat). Sandy, I am not an emotional man, but your attitude in his regrettable affair impresses me. You are doing a noble thing, I should like to shake hands with you, and then say no more about it. Sandy (shaking hands). Thank ycu, uncle. Lady Elizabeth. You may kiss me, Sandy. Sandy. Thank you, aunt. (She solemnly hoists her veil and Sandy kisses her.) Sandy. By the way, I didn't finish my breakfast ; there are such a lot of things happening aren't there ? (He goes back to the breakfast table and pours himself out some tea). I told you I was rather rattled this morning. Now I'll tell you something else— I'm going to be married. Verrall and Lady Elizabeth. What ? Sandy. The future Mrs. Sandy will be here in a few minutes, and I'm going to propose to her. Lady Elizabeth (aghast). Sakes alive! Sandy. What do you mean by saying, " Sakes alive." I am going to be married— I've got this child so I'm going to get married— it's so splendid to start off with a ready-made child— seems to save such a lot of trouble. Verrall. Trouble ! Lady Elizabeth. Bless us ! Sandy. My wife and I will have everything we want right from the word "go." Top hole I call it. Verrall. You don't propose to saddle yourself with a wife just because you've got this child ? B 13 ELIZA COMES TO STAY Sandy. Uncle Alexander, I've got this child. It's only right and proper I should have a wife. I am sorry you don't see my point. To-day I am going to ask Miss Vera Laurence to marry me. Verrall (aghast). The actress ! Sandy. You're quite right — the actress, positively the only one, Aunt Elizabeth. (He rises and goes to Lady Pennybroke and sits on floor r. of her chair.) Aunt Elizabeth, I'm in love, awfully in love — yoti know what love is — all good women do. Verrall (with gathering wrath). You contemplate marrying an actress ? Lady Elizabeth. Introducing a stage player into your home circle ? Verrall. Preposterous. Lady Elizabeth. Unspeakable. Verrall. Your Uncle Gregory will disinherit you. Lady Elizabeth (ga.keHng herself together and rising a quivering indignant angularity). Is there an Ayieated Bread shop in the neighbourhood ? Sandy (huffily). There is no such word as Ayreated — it's " Aerated," and it's just across the road. Lady Elizabeth. Alexander, will you accom- pany me there, I feel I need it. (Alexander rises and takes up his hat.) Sandy. Aunt Elizabeth. Lady Elizabeth. Not another word ! (Going up to door c.) Sandy (appealingly). Uncle Alexander ! Verrall. I accompany your aunt. (Going up to door c.) You will receive communications from your family, as to what measures they will adopt under this most unlooked for calamity. (They sweep up towards the door — Sandy opens it for them smiling — they go out — he follows them into the Hall.) Sandy. I'll open the hall door for you — there's sometimes a little trouble with the latch. ELIZA COMES TO STAY 1& {Hj ops-n thz door and Lady Elizabeth stalks out. Sandy corms back into room, Alexander is about to follow Lady Elizabeth but Sandy catches him by the arm and pulls him back to just inside the door.) Sandy. Won't you come back in the course of the afternoon and discuss it calmly ? Verrall. I will endeavour to do so, but for the moment your aunt is obviously upset. Sandy. Perhaps after she's had a glass of port and a bun she'll be more amenable. Verrall. I fear not — but I will endeavour to bring her back to talk this marriage over. Sandy. Good. (Verrall goes out. Sandy shuts the Hall door and comes down into the room.) (Herbert comes into the Hall with a pile of plays — Sandy groans.) Sandy. More plays ! ! Put them with the others, Herbert. (With a little sigh.) I'm very worried, ye know — what with everything — a child for the first time — and all these plays to read. (He turns and looks at the plays Herbert is holding.) Do you think you could judge a play, Herbert ? Herbert. I'll do my best, sir. Sandy. Just dip into those you've got there, will you, and — and report — only dip — don't worry to dive. Hsrbsrt. Yes, sir. Sandy. And — er — the nurse now — your relation — Mrs. Allaway — no H. I did remember. (He beams.) She has intelligence, eh ? Herbert. Yes, sir. Sandy. Let her dip too. (Crosses to mantelpiece.) Herbert. Yes, sir. (There is a pause till Herbert is off c, then the Hall door bell rings, Sandy says, " My child — my new 20 ELIZA COMES TO STAY child" Herbert opens door and Vera Laurence enters.) Sandy. It's 5^011, it's you — oh, my dear ! {Going up to meet her.) (Vera Laurence, a most attractive, sinuous brunette comes into the Hall.) Vera. Oh, Sandy, you said that as if I was a breath of fresh air. (Crosses down R. to front of settee.) Sandy. You are — you are — you are. Vera (defiantly). No, I'm not — all the fresh air I've got is — is the same thing as oxygen out of a cylinder. Oh yes, take my hat — take my old wraps. Oh, and, Sandy, isn't that a dream of an umbrella ? (He takes her things and places them on back of settee as she talks.) It isn't meant for rain, once that was opened to the rain it would never go back and be slim and elegant again. (Sits on settee.) Oh, Sandy, dear, they opened me to the rain too soon. Oh, it's nice to sit here — and — and — sort of collect oneself. What were you doing when I blew in Sandy (sitting beside her). You didn't blow in, I knew you were coming. Vera. Of course, it was an appointment, I for- got, but I kept it. Sandy. To the moment. Vera. What were you doing when I came punctu- ally to my appointment ? Sandy. I was tryin' to concentrate on three things. Vera. Three Sandy. You — your plays — and my little golden- haired, blue-eyed child. Vera. Oh, I forgot — of course — has she come yet? Sandy. No, she's being fetched now. She ought to arrive every minute. I've fixed the nurse and the nursery. I've got two Dumpy Books and a Podgy Book. Oh, that's right. You know they must have them. I've got a Teddy Bear and a rocking-horse. ELIZA COMES TO STAY $\ But I feel with so much to think about, that I'm at a loose end. Vera. I've been at a loose end ever since I can remember. I only get any real rest when I come here. Sandy (tenderly). You mean that ? Vera. You're very real, Sandy. Sandy (comes down beaming). I am real, aren't I, really ? But nobody seems to understand it but you. We're going to be married, aren't we — of course we are. Vera. Are we ? I didn't know, you've never said a word. Sandy. Oh, but you knew it, didn't you ? Vera. Yes, I knew it. Bat you might have asked me. Sandy. I've been so busy. Vera. Have you taken the Novelty Theatre for me ? Sandy. It's nearly settled. Vera. Have you been able to get me a play ? Sandy (chuckles and rises). Have I been able to .get you a play!!! Look! (And he points trium- phantly to the stacks of plays) . And yet you read in the papers that regular managers can't get plays — why I just advertised in the daily papers and in three days I got these — more than I really want — of course one or two of them may be bad plays, but after all, one must expect that, mustn't one — when one first goes into management. Vera (pensively). Which one of those plays will give me what I want ? Sandy. I don't know. Vera. I want — big things. (She stretches herself lazily — beautifully.) I want a " vehicle to express myself " Sandy. Vehicle to express yourself — quite so. Vera. Is it there ? Sandy. How can we tell till we read 'em ? Vera. Of course — we've got to read them— what a. nuisance authors are. 22 ELIZA COMES TO STAY Sandy (sitting beside her again). I say, to jump to something more important, have you ever studied Dr. Chevasses Advise to a Mother ? Vera. Certainly not. Sandy (rises and gets book from table c. and returns to his seat). Oh, you must, it's most interesting — I read it all last night — here we are with this child coming and we've had no experience up to now — oh, we must study this. (He opens book.) It seems to tell you about everything. Now look here, para- graph 70, " Have you any-remarks to make on sugar for sweetening a baby's food ? Vera (curtly). I have no remarks. Sandy. Exactly, nor have I, but it tells you here. (He reads with great emphasis.) " A small quantity of sugar in an infant's food is requisite, sugar being nourishing and fattening, and making cow's milk to resemble somewTiat in its properties, human milk ; but bear in mind it must be used as directed." That's in italics, so it's important. Vera. When is the child coming ? Sandy. Any minute now. That's why I want to be ready. Paragraph 92. " Have you any objec- tion to the child when it is cutting it's teeth, sue king its thumb ? ' : I couldn't answer that, could yc u ? Vera. No. Sandy. The answer is, " Certainly not, the thumb is the best gum-stick in the world — it is convenient — it is handy " — that's a little joke — " handy in every sense of the word — it is of the right size — neither too hard nor too soft — there is no danger of its being swallowed and thus of choking the child." Now that's sheer common sense, isn't it ? Vera. My dear Sandy, you can surely leave all this to the nurse, we needn't be bored by it. Sandy (a little damped). I didn't mean to bore you — I'm getting interested in the idea. I've never had a child of my own before. (Rises, puts book on table, linn gees over and plays with rocking-horse.) ELIZA COMES TO STAY 23 Vera (suddenly). Sandy, shall we be well off when we marry ? Sandy. Oh no — about seven hundred a year. (She makes a face.) Vera. Sandy, dear. Sandy. Then I come in for Uncle Gregory's bit. He told me so. Vera. How big a bit ? Sandy I've never thought much about it — but quite ten thousand. Vera. A year ? Sandy. Yes — why ? Vera (sighing). Nothing, money doesn't matter, does it ? Sandy. Not a bit. (The bell rings.) My child 1 My new child ! Do you mind if I answer the bell ? Herbert's concentrated on a play. (He goes up and opens the door, he looks out into the Hall. Herbert is seen coming down the passage reading an MS. as he comes. He passes out of sight towards the Hall door — Sandy turns with a beam towards Vera.) Sandy. Did you see that, I believe he's found a good one first go off — aren't we lucky this mornin' ? (Herbert comes in with the play open in one hand and a large Teddy Bear in the other. The bear has a label on it.) Sandy (delighted). Oh, the Teddy Bear. I'm glad it came in time. Herbert. Shall I take it to the nursery, sir ? Sandy. No, put it on the floor by the door, so she can see it first thing — it will be homely for her. (Her- bert puts it on floor by table c.) In front of the Hall door, Herbert. (Herbert places the Bear in the door- way c.) (Pointing to the play that the valet is reading.) How do you like that one, Herbert ? 24 ELIZA COMES TO STAY Herbert. The opening is a little rechauffee, as it were, sir. Sandy. Oh ? Herbert. The dramatis personae bears no rela- tion to real life, up to now, sir. The first act begins with the butler and the parlour-maid dusting the drawing-room chairs, sir. Sandy. I know — N.G. (He takes the MS. and scribbles on the outside N.G., then puts it on floor in corner L. where there already is a pile of plays.) Well, try another. (And from the pile he hands him more MSS.) How does nurse like hers ? Herbert. She started on it, sir, but I don't rely on her judgment, she seems to hanker for a clown, sir. Sandy. Does she only go to the theatre at Christ- mas ? Herbert. I fear so, sir — she has a cousin who's a dresser at Drury Lane, sir. Sandy. Oh, really. Herbert. Yes, sir. (The valet disappears and Sandy goes and poses the bear in an attitude of welcome.) Vera. How old is your Uncle Gregory, Sandy ? Sandy. About fifty-eight, I think. Vera (sitting up). Oh my gracious ! Sandy. But he doesn't look it. Bless him, you'd take him for forty. (He is playing with the bear.) He squeaks. Vera. Your uncle ? Sandy. No, the bear. Vera. Isn't he anything of an invalid ? Sandy. Bless you, no. He's a trojan. Vera. Why he might marry again, and have children of his own. Sandy. Top hole. Vera. But where should we be then ? Sandy (pointing to the pile of MSS.). We've got ELIZA COMES TO STAY 25 ea~h other and all this material. (The Hall door bell rings) She's come ! She has come this time, I feel it in my bones. (He flings the door open.) Jordan ! At last ! (Montague Jordan, a very cheerful plump little man of fifty, grips Sandy warmly by the hand and jumps over the bear.) Sandy (very excited). Got her ? Jordan. She's in the cab. Sandy (joy f ally to Vera). He's got her — he's got her. I sent him all the way to Berkshire to fetch her and he's got her. Isn't he a splendid fellow ? Jordan (sitting l.c). Can I have a little brandy and water ? Sandy. Not before lunch. Why the devil did you leave the poor little thing in the cab ? Jordan. I never had a daughter — can't I have a little brandy and water ? Sandy (suddenly distressed). You look ill. Jordan. I am a little ill. Vera (pause) . Shall I go down and f et ch her up ? Jordan. It isn't necessary, she'll come up of her- self. Not too much water, Sandy. (Sandy has gone to the sideboard and poured out some brandy and water — Jordan clutches it.) She's coming ! ! Sandy (beaming). Let's all stay quite still and see what she says when she sees the bear. I love the wonder in a baby's eyes — don't you ? (A girl of about 18 appears in the doorway in a shabby, shapeless frock, too large in the waist, too small in the back, too long in the skirt — she is a curious type of humanity altogether: her lank hair is drawn tightly off her forehead and knotted into a little bun on the top of her head, upon it is perched a little straw hat — she wears glasses and carries a large untidy brown paper parcel — she peers round the ro an instant taking them all in, then she advances a little until she 26 ELIZA COMES TO STAY reaches the bear — she gives a little squeal then stoops down and looks at it.) Eliza. It's stuffed, silly place to sit it. I might have trod on it. Sandy (grasping Jordan's arm feverishly). Who is it ? 1 Jordan. The legacy — the blue-eyed, golden- haired Sandy. Jordan ! Jordan ! (And he seizes Jor- dan's brandy and water and swallow's -it at a gulp.) Eliza. I'm Eliza Vandam, that nice fat gentle- man fetched me by train. Sandy (l. of rocking-horse). But this — this — can't be — it's impossible — read, Jordan, read. (He takes out letter and recites it.) " The apple of her father's eye ! The darling of bis heart ! " (Wildly to Eliza.) Oh, you've been mixed up. You have been mixed up, haven't you ? Eliza. I don't know— father said a gentleman had promised to cherish me. (She turns to Sandy.) I recognize you by instinct — you've promised to cherish me. Sandy. Yes — you've come a long way, won't you sit down ? (Eliza gets chair from top of table c, drags it to front of table and sits down then bends her gaze on Vera.) Eliza. You're his sister, I can guess that — you're as like as two peas. Sandy (rubbing his head). Don't guess any more for a minute, do you mind ? I — I'm trying to collect myself. (There is a long and awkward pause — at last Vera says quietly.) Vera. Perhaps Miss Vandam would like to go to her room. Jordan (rising). To remove the elust of the jour- ney, put your hair straight and other little things ladies love to elo. Eliza. My hair don't worry me. ELIZA COMES TO STAY 27 Sandy. Doesn't it, how wonderful ! (The Nurse enters.] Sandy. Nurse, please take her to her room. Eliza. Where's my box ? Nurse. It came up by the lift, miss, it's in your room — shall I take that ? (Offers to take the bundle.) Eliza. Lord, no ! A parcel don't worrit me — it's only odds and ends. (Rising and going up stage.) Mrs. Allaway. This way, miss. Jordan (gallantly). Mysteries of the toilette. Eliza. No, it's two petticoats, a camisole, a pair of boots that I couldn't stuff into the box. I neel a little strange for the moment — but I shall settle down — I shall settle down. (She goes off r., following the Nurse, Jordan closes the door with a gasp and stands with his back against a.) Sandy. I've sworn to cherish her. Jordan. And she means to settle down ! (Curtain.) ACT II The same scene a week later, about 12 o'clock in the morning. (Jordan sitting l. of table c. in an uncomfortable chair > reading a play. He is apparently finishing it — does so with a growl and tosses it despairingly over his shoulder.) Jordan {with almost a sob in his throat). Why do they write 'em ? Oh ! there ought to be a law about it. (Then he goes hurriedly to the pile of MSS. which has increased, and angrily seizes another play — he shakes it fiercely.) Come on, you stodgy-looking baast — 'I'm at ye (and with a growl he returns to his chair, fidgets for a minute). If I don't stick to this deuced uncomfortable chair, I shall sleep from sheer fatigue. n Bobby's little Lapse." Comedy, 4 Acts. Pretty title. How many little laps did Bobby have, I wonder ? (Herbert enters r., also with MS. He crosses to l., puts play on floor and takes another from the pile.) Herbert. Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Jordan, but Mr. Verrall requires another. Jordan (amazed). Another? Herbert. The masier started reading shortly after 9 this morning. He's got through eleven already, sir. I don't fancy he dips so deeply as he did early in the week. (Herbert takes a few more plays under his arm and turns back towards door r.) 28 ELIZA COMES TO STAY 29 Jordan (with a gulp). Where's Miss Eliza Van- dam ? Herbert (l. of Jordan). She confines herself very much to the nursery, sir. I gather from Mrs. Allaway she indulges her literary tastes in the form of a diary for hours together. I should think the young lady's impressions would be good light readin', sir — in after years. Jordan. I shouldn't wonder. Herbert. She was a cruel blow to the master, sir, she don't seem to " fill his eye " as the saying is. Jordan. Fill his eye ? (He lifts his hands in despair.) Herbert. He's taken to reading these plays very strenuous, sir, regards them as an antidote, I fancy, sir. I've found his light up when I've called him every morning. Jordan. Do you mean he reads all night ? Herbert. Judging from the plays I pick up round the room in leaving, sir, I think he must do. Jordan. Herbert, you are in for the reading stakes too ? Are your instructions the same as mine ? Mr. Verrall told me to put the play back in its envelope after I had read it and write V.G. or G. or N.G. — very good, good, or no good on it — as I felt, you know. Herbert. Yes, sir. Jordan (sadly to himself). I write " X.G. " quite prettily now. (Sandy enters from his room r., he looks very tired, he has got a small towel round his forehead pinned with a safety pin. He comes down straight to table c, puts down bundle of CESS, which he is carrying, looks at Monty, and shakes his head sorrowfully, then says quietly.) Sandy. Herbert- — more vinegar — don't let it run down my neck this time. Herbert (getting vin egar cruet from sideboard) . No, sir. 30 ELIZA COMES TO STAY (Sandy sits on sofa and Herbert drops vinegar on to the towel on Sandy's forehead.) Sandy. Thank you — that's all right — and in future, Herbert, I do not wish Miss Vandam to supply the pins to put this cloth upon my forehead. You , ought to know what I want by now. Herbert. The cloth itself was the young lady's idea, sir — and the pins — er — well, she understands pins, sir. Sandy. Well, don't let it occur again. More vinegar — this side. (Herbert drops vinegar on Sandy's temple. The door opens and Eliza peeps in. She watches the s ene for a moment. Sandy having drops of vinegar put on the towel most carefully by Herbert, and Monty Jordan trying to be absorbed in his flay. At last site comes in quietly and shuts the door behind her, she comes down to Sandy's sofa and looks at him — •• he waves Herbert away and sits up and faces her in the silence of despair.) Eliza. Ain't your head no better ? Sandy. My head's quite well, thank you. Eliza (r.c). Then, Herbert, take his bandage off and save the vinegar. Herbert. Yes, miss. {He unpins the towel, re- turning the pins to Eliza Vandam. She puts them in a difficult skirt pocket. He is in doubt what to do with the towel.) Sandy (fiercely). Give it to me. (Sandy has a ferocious eye on Eliza as he does so. Herbert gives him the towel and he stuffs it defi- antly into his trouper pocket.) Eliza (l. of settee) . I shouldn't put it in my pocket , it's damp vinegar. I should put it on the back of a chair or something, to dry. ELIZA COMES TO STAY 31 (Sandy mechanically takes the towel from his pocket and hands it to her. Eliza shakes it out a id h i igs it on the back of a chair up stage. As she shakes the towel it gives Monty a shower bath. He takes out hand kerchief and wipes his eye.) Eliza (tenderly to Sandy). There now — you just rest — you'll be all right. There's a lot of fight in you yet. Sandy (hoarsely). Go away. Eliza. Yes (Then softly.) You're going to cherish me, I'm not afraid of it and I know you ain't, father told me. Sandy. Don't say " ain't." Eliza (a little bewildered) . Eh ? Jordan (intervening). Mr. Verrall means it is usual to say, " you are not " not " you ain't." Sandy (feebly). Don't worry about me, Eliza. (He chokes a little.) Just take a little book to read — and — I'll take a little rest. (Eliza watches him.) Herbert, give her one. (Herbert goes gravely and fetches a play from the pile. Eliza takes it delightedly .) Eliza. Me too. I know all about it, Mrs. Ail- away has told me. Here (She motions Herbert to move away, then goes to Sandy behind settee, sure of not being overheard.) Here — you're tired— you're, tired because of me. I know. I've found out— don't get tired. I like you — and — and please don't get tired because of me — because you know I could clear out if I wanted to — but — but somehow — I don't want to. I read the Podgy Book you gave me and your Dumpy Book,, and I take your Teddy Bear to bed with me every night and — and — that all shows that I like you — and I hope your head will be better soon. (A pause. Herbert stands motionless at the back. Jordan is trying to be absorbed in his play.) 32 ELIZA COMES TO STAY, Eliza (she looks round then turns again to Sandy). Here — can't we ever talk really alone ? Sandy. Oh no, no — oh — do — do please go away. Eliza (smiles at him). All right — I'm not a fool. (She goes to the door, then turns with a sudden thought and comes down r. of settee.) Did you really say you didn't like the way I do my hair ? Sandy. Yes, I did say it. I don't like it at all, but tastes differ — some people may revel in it. / don't matter. Eliza. You do matter, you are the only thing that does matter — I'll see to it- — now you will rest, won't you ? (She says it very simply and her voice is really a very nice voice though Sandy has not heard it yet.) Sandy. Go away. (And she goes quietly away, exits r., closing the doov behind her in a whisper, as it were.) Sandy. Oh, my gad — she's a dreadful proposition — ■ she looks straight at me and unsettles me. Herbert, I don't drink in the day-time as a rule, but — give me a whiskey and soda. Herbert. Yes, sir. (He proceeds to get it.) Sandy. No — I don't want it — damn everything. (Exit Herbert c.) Jordan (closing MS.). I have nothing in common with " Bobby's Lapse." (Calmly.) N.G., I think. (He signs MS.) I'll put it in the corner. (And he puts it on a pile of envelopes now about 5 feet high in the corner — then lie comes down and sits on the end of the sofa occupied by Sandy. He moves Sandy's legs to make himself comfortable.) (Sandy is too far bored to mind.) You look worried, Sandy. Sandy. You'd be worried if you were in my place. Jordan. Where did Miss Vera Laurence meet your Uncle Gregory ? Sandy. Here, the afternoon of the day we got engaged. Why ? ELIZA COMES TO STAY 33 Jordan. I saw her lunching with him at the Savoy yesterday. Sandy. You don't say so ! Fancy old Gregory askin' her out" to lunch. (He chuckles.) He's a bit of a blood, ain't he ? Jordan. Don't say " ain't he." Sandy. Eh ? Jordan. Say " is not he." Sandy. What's the matter with you ? (The door R. opens quietly and Eliza comes in.) Eliza. I don't like this play, Mr. Sandy. I read most of it yesterday. (At the sound of her voice Sandy has turned on the sofa with a stifled groan, throws his feet into Monty's lap, closing his eyes. She comes down on tip-toe, to Jordan. She looks ai Sandy, then whispers.) Is he asleep ? Jordan. Yes, I think he must be, you see he was up all night reading. (Jordan rises, putting Sandy's feet carefully' on sofa, and Eliza goes and cautiously peers at Sandy. Monty crosses to c.) Eliza. Yes. He's asleep. Jordan (taking the MS. and envelope from her). You don't like it ? Eliza (abstractedly watching Sandy). I don't understand the beginning— then I read the last lines (She takes the MS. from him and finds the place.) The man says : " Misery— misery— that's all our lives have led to ! " and then his wife says : " My God, and we've tried so hard." And he says : " We have tried, Mary," and she says : " Is this the end ? " and he says : " I wonder " — and the curtain comes down very slowly. Jordan (sighs deeply). Thank you. (Takes back MS., puts it in envelope, takes out fountain pen.) N.G. Oh dear ! (He puts the MS. on pile in corner.) 34 ELIZA COMES TO STAY (A pause, while Eliza looks at Sandy in awe, at last she says with a little sigh.) Eliza. I like his face, don't you ? Jordan. Er — I don't know, I'm sure. Eliza. Oh, I do. Perhaps you think it's a little pasty — lots of people would, but I like it. I took to it at once. Jordan. Er (Quite at a loss.) You — er — surprise me. Eliza. While he's asleep, can I sit here and talk to you ? (Very softly.) I wouldn't wake him for worlds — so tired — the poor dear (taking Monty's arm) but it is a treat to talk to something in trousers now and again. Jordan. Er — quite so. Eliza (crosses and sits on l. arm of settee). I am glad he's asleep. I can take him all to pieces and digest him comfortably, bit by bit. (Then with a little rush of ecstasy.) Oh, I do think he's beautiful, don't you ? Don't you just love his hair, it's so smarmy — and — my ! ain't he, I mean " has not he " got a little foot ? Grey tops to his boots too, I'll be bound those boots cost more than eight and eleven . Jordan. Er — doubtless. Eliza (looking at her own boots). You know I was taught it was wicked to make myself look nice. So I've never done it. Jordan. One wouldn't have thought so, really. Eliza. Oh, I could do it, don't you worrit. I'm not a fool. Jordan. Well, now you mention it — why don't you make yourself look nice ? Eliza. Well, if it is not wicked for him to look so nice — I don't see why it should be wicked for me — do you ? Jordan. Not at all. Eliza (musingly). And yet I don't know — there's a lot in it — vou see, he's a man, so he can look as ELIZA CMOES TO STAY 35 beautiful as he is and be quite safe, because he can loDk after hinsslf. But if I were to look as beautiful as I could — It— it would be dangerous. I should be always g3tting iuto trouble. Jordan. What a distressing theory. If one may ask, ho .v did you get imbued with this — er — phil- osophy ? Eliza. From old Aunt Helen — father's sister, you know. When she was young — she told me th'.s herself, you know — oh, she was always telling it me— A^aen she was young she was beautiful and she wis al.vays making herself more beautiful — beautiful cbthes — beautiful shoes (she stroke&$A$ dy's boots tenizrly), and so she was so beautifdplmat she was always getting into trouble. It got 'so at last that her people turned her out and she never had any peace at all in her life till she took to being " dowdy ,: and she was dowdy and no mistake — but anyhow she was safe — she's dead, you know. (Monty. Is she — I'm sorry.) She wanted me to be safe from the beginning — she said : " You don't know what men are, they're ravening wolves — if you want to enjoy your me lis and go to bed in peace, stick to your bun, my dear." Jordan {failing to follow). Eh ? Eliza [patting the back of her head). This little thing screwed tight at the back. " You've got to wear clothes, I know," she says. " But don't look at 'em, when you buy 'em, and don't worrit how you put 'em on — if you've got merry eyes, no matter how well you can see, wear spectacles — pull your curls off your forehead and you will be safe." Well, I've done it since she told me — and she was right. I'm quite safe up to now. Jordan. Admirable. Most admirable. Eliza (abstractedly toying with Sandy's boot). But — but — I wish I coul:l be in danger just for once. I feel I should like it so. Jordan. My gracious. 36 ELIZA COMES TO STAY Eliza (who has turned a dreamy gaze on Sandy). He 'is a beautiful man, isn't he ? He grows on me. I think one can be too safe, dont' you ? Jordan (flurried). I — I think he's going to wake up — hadn't you better go back to your room. ? Eliza (rising and following Monty to l.c). Oh, no. I don't mind telling you I don't care much for Miss Vera Laurence. Jordan (not knowing what to do, says). Really, you surprise me. Eliza (emphatically) . No — I think Miss Laurence is a — er — er Jordan. A — er — er — charming lady. Eliza (calmly). (Putting finger to her nose.) Yes — that's exactly what I mean. (Jordan watches Eliza with growing alarm.) Do you think he'd like me better if I have hair like hers ? Jordan. I — er, I don't know. Eliza. I wonder where she got hers. Aunt Helen wore hair like hers, only she was much fairer — it cost a lot of money. (Softly.) Do you think it would worry him if I sat quietly in that corner and read another ? (The hall door bell rings. Eliza darts from sofa, seizes a play and seats herself on stool L. Sandy' sits bolt upright and hisses at Jordan.) Sandy. I've sworn to cherish her. What am I to do ? Jordan. Don't go to sleep again. Sandy. I ivasrit asleep. Jordan. I know. (Sandy turns round and looks at Eliza. She looks up and catches his eye) Sandy. Oh, you're there, are you, Eliza ? I'm afraid I've been asleep. Eliza. Yes, Mr. Verrall. (A pause.) Does my ELIZA COMES TO STAY 37 Teading here worrit you, Mr. Verrall ? I read very quietly. Sandy. Worry me ? Not at all. Eliza. Thank you, Mr. Verrall. (She returns to her reading.) Sandy (to Jordan). I say, under the circum- stances, she can't call me Mr. Verrall. Jordan. What can she call you ? (Standing with ■back to fireplace.) Sandy. Don't you think she might call me