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 mCH'S ACTING EDITION 
 
 THE DEAR DEPARTED 
 
 (STANLEY HOUGHTON) 
 
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THE DEAR DEPARTED 
 
THE 
 DEAR DEPARTED 
 
 A COMEDY IN ONE ACT 
 
 By 
 STANLEY HOUGHTON 
 
 Copyright, 19 io, by Samuel French, Ltd 
 
 New York | London 
 
 SAMUEL FRENCH ; SAMUEL FRENCH Ltd 
 
 Publisher j 26 Southampton Street 
 
 2S-30 WEST 38TH STREET ; STRAND 
 
< 
 
 t.a'^ 
 
 ^T^» 
 
 CCLD 2i>9'^9 
 
CHARACTERS 
 
 Mrs. Slater -» 
 
 Mrs. Jordan / (Sisters. 
 
 Henry Slater 1 
 
 Ben Jordan 
 
 Victoria Slater (.-I gii'l of ten.) 
 
 Abel Merryweather. 
 
 r {Their husbands.) 
 
 The action, fakes place in a provincial toivn on a Saturday 
 afternoon. 
 
 Produced at the Gaiety Theatre, Manchester, by Miss 
 Horniman's Company on November 2, 1908, with the follow- 
 ing cast : — 
 
 Mrs. Slater Ada King. 
 
 Victoria Slater Enid Meek. 
 
 Henry Slater Henry Austin. 
 
 Mrs. Jordan Louise Holbrook. 
 
 Ben Jordan Joseph A. Keogh. 
 
 Abel Merryweather Edward Lander. 
 
 Any costumes or wigs required for the production of "The 
 Dear Departed" may be hired or purchased reasonably from 
 Messrs. C. H. Fox, Ltd., 27, Welhngton Street, Strand, London 
 

 
 
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THE DEAR DEPARTED 
 
 (Note. — The terms " Left " and " Right " in the 
 stage directions refer to the spectator's left and 
 right, not the actor's.) 
 
 The scene is the sitting-room of a small house in a 
 lower middle-class district of a provincial toivn. 
 On the spectator's left is the ivindow, with the blinds 
 down. A sofa is in front of it. On his right is a 
 fireplace with an armchair by it. In the middle of 
 the wall facing the spectator is the door into the pas- 
 sage. To the left of the door a cheap, shabby chest 
 of drawers, to the right a sideboard. In the middle 
 of the room is the table, with chairs round it. Orna- 
 ments and a cheap American clock are on the mantel- 
 piece, in the hearth a kettle. By the sideboard a pair 
 of gaudy new carpet slippers. The table is partly 
 laid for tea, and the necessaries for the meal are on 
 the sideboard, as also are copies of an evening paper 
 and of " Tit-Bits " and " Pearson's Weekly." Turn- 
 ing to the left through the door takes you to the front 
 door; to the right, upstairs. In the passage a hat- 
 stand is visible. 
 
 When the curtain rises Mrs. Slater is seen laying 
 the table. She is a vigorous, plump, red-faced 
 vulgar woman, prepared to do any amount of straight 
 talking to get her oivn way. She is in black, but 
 not in complete mourning. She listens a moment 
 and then goes to the window, opens it and calls into 
 the street. 
 
8 THE DEAR DEPARTED, 
 
 Mrs. Slater {sharply). Victoria, Victoria ! D'ye 
 hear ? Come in, will you ? 
 
 (Mrs. Slater closes window and puts the blind straight 
 and then returns to her ivork at the table. Victoria, 
 a precocious girl of ten, dressed in colours, enters. 
 
 Mrs. S. I'm amazed at you, Victoria ; I really 
 am. How you can be gallivanting about in the 
 street with your grandfather lying dead and cold 
 upstairs I don't know. Be off now, and change 
 your dress before your Aunt Elizabeth and your 
 Uncle Ben come. It would never do for them to 
 find you in colours. 
 
 Victoria. What are they coming for ? They 
 haven't been here for ages. 
 
 Mrs. S. They're coming to talk over poor grand- 
 pa's affairs. Your father sent them a telegram as 
 soon as we found he was dead. {A noise is heard.) 
 Good gracious, that's never them. (Mrs. Slater 
 hurries to the door and opens it.) No, thank goodness ! 
 it's only your father. 
 
 (Henry Slater, a stooping, heavy man with a drooping 
 moustache, enters. He is wearing a black tail coat, 
 grey trousers, a black tie and a bolder hat. He 
 carries a little paper parcel.) 
 
 Henry. Not come yet, eh ? 
 
 Mrs. S. You can see they haven't, can't you. 
 Now, Victoria, be off upstairs and that quick. Put 
 your white frock on with a black sash. (Victoria 
 goes out.) 
 
 Mrs. S. {to Henry). I'm not satisfied, but it's 
 the best we can do till our new black's ready, and 
 Ben and Ehzabeth will never have thought about 
 mourning yet, so we'll outshine them there. (Henry 
 sits in the armchair by the fire.) Get your boots off, 
 Henry ; Ehzabeth's that prying she notices the least 
 speck of dirt. 
 
 Henry. I'm wondering if they'll come at all. 
 
THE DEAR DEPARTED. 9 
 
 When you and Elizabeth quarrelled she said she'd 
 never set foot in your house again. 
 
 Mrs. S. She'll come fast enough after her share 
 of what grandfather's left. You know how hard 
 she can be when she hkes. Where she gets it from 
 I can't tell. 
 
 (Mrs. Slater unwraps the parcel Henry has brought. 
 It contains sliced tongue, which she puts on a dish 
 on the table.) 
 
 Henry. I suppose it's in the family. 
 
 Mrs. S. What do you mean by that, Henry 
 Slater ? 
 
 Henry. I was referring to your father, not to 
 you. Where are my slippers ? 
 
 Mrs. S. In the kitchen ; but you want a new 
 pair, those old ones are nearly worn out. {Nearly 
 breaking down.) You don't seem to realize what it's 
 costing me to bear up like I am doing. My heart's 
 fit to break when I see the little trifles that belonged 
 to grandfather lying around, and think he'll never 
 use them again. (Briskly.) Here ! you'd better 
 wear these slippers of grandfather's now. It's lucky 
 he'd just got a new pair. 
 
 Henry. They'll be very small for me, my dear, 
 
 Mrs. S. They'll stretch, won't they ? I'm not 
 going to have them wasted. [She has finished laying 
 the table.) Henry, I've been thinking about that 
 bureau of grandfather's that's in his bedroom. You 
 know I always wanted to have it after he died. 
 
 Henry. You must arrange with Elizabeth when 
 you're dividing things up. 
 
 Mrs. S. Ehzabeth's that sharp she'll see I'm 
 after it, and she'll drive a hard bargain over it. Eh, 
 what it is to have a low money-grubbing spirit ! 
 
 Henry. Perhaps she's got her eye on the bureau 
 as well. 
 
 Mrs. S. She's never been here since grandfather 
 
JO THE DEAR DEPARTED. 
 
 bought it. If it was only down here instead of in 
 his room, she'd never guess it wasn't our own. 
 
 Henry {startled). Ameha ! {He rises.) 
 
 Mrs. S. Henry, why shouldn't we bring that 
 bureau down here now. We could do it before they 
 come. 
 
 Henry {stupefied). I wouldn't care to. 
 
 Mrs. S. Don't look so daft. Why not ? 
 
 Henry. It doesn't seem delicate, somehow. 
 
 Mrs. H. We could put that shabby old chest of 
 drawers upstairs where the bureau is now. Elizabeth 
 could have that and welcome. I've always wanted 
 to get rid of it. {She points to the drawers.) 
 
 Henry. Suppose they come when we're doing it. 
 
 Mrs. S. I'll fasten the front door. Get your 
 coat off, Henry ; we'll change it. 
 (Mrs. Slater goes out to fasten the front door. 
 
 Henry takes his coat off. Mrs. Slater reap- 
 pears.) 
 
 Mrs. S. I'll run up and move the chairs out of 
 the way. 
 
 (Victoria appears, dressed according to her mother's 
 instructions.) 
 
 Vic. Will you fasten my frock up the ])ack, 
 mother ? 
 
 Mrs. S. I'm busy ; get your father to do it. 
 
 (Mrs. Slater hurries upstairs, and Henry fastens 
 the frock.) 
 
 Vic. What have you got your coat off for, father ? 
 
 Henry. Mother and me is going to bring grand- 
 father's bureau down here. 
 
 Vic. {after a moment's thought). Are we pinching 
 it before Aunt Elizabeth comes ? 
 
 Henry {shocked). No, my child. Grandpa gave 
 it your mother before he died. 
 
 Vic. This morning ? 
 
THE DEAR DEPARTED. 11 
 
 Henry. Yes. 
 
 Vic. Ah ! He was drunk this morning. 
 Henry. Hush ; you mustn't ever say he was 
 drunk, now. 
 
 (Henry has fastened the frock, and Mrs. Slater 
 
 appears carrying a handsome clock under her arm.) 
 
 Mrs. S. I thought I'd fetch this down as well. 
 {She puts it on the mantelpiece.) Our clock's worth 
 nothing and this always appealed to me. 
 
 Vic. That's grandpa's clock. 
 
 Mrs. S. Chut ! Be quiet ! It's ours now. Come, 
 Henry, lift your end. Victoria, don't breathe a word 
 to your aunt about the clock and the bureau. 
 
 {They carry the chest of drainers through the doorway.) 
 
 Vic. {to herself). I thought we'd pinched them. 
 
 {After a short pause there is a sharp knock at the front 
 door.) 
 
 Mrs. S. {from upstairs). Victoria, if that's your 
 aunt and uncle you're not to open the door. 
 
 (Victoria peeps through the ivindoiv.) 
 
 Vic. Mother, it's them ! 
 
 Mrs. S. You're not to open the door till I come 
 
 down. {Knocking repeated.) Let them knock away. 
 
 {There is a heavy humping noise.) Mind the wall, 
 
 Henry. 
 
 (Henry and Mrs. Slater, t^^ry/io/ and flushed, stagger 
 in with a pretty old-fashioned bureau containing a 
 locked desk. They put it where the chest of drawers 
 was, and straighten the ornaments, etc. The knocking 
 is repeated.) 
 
 Mrs. S. That was a near thing. Open the door, 
 Victoria. Now, Henry, get your coat on. {She 
 helps him.) 
 
 Henry. Did we knock much plaster off the wall ? 
 
12 THE DEAR DEPARTED, 
 
 Mrs. S. Never mind the plaster. Do I look all 
 right ? {Straightening her hair at the glass.) Just 
 watch Ehzabeth's face when she sees we're all in half 
 mourning. (Throiving him " Tit-Bits.") Take this 
 and sit down. Try and look as if we'd been waiting 
 for them. 
 
 (Henry sits in the armchair and Mrs. Slater le/t of 
 table. They read ostentatiously. Victoria ushers in 
 Ben and Mrs. Jordan. The latter is a stout, com- 
 placeni woman with an impassive face and an irritating 
 air of being always right. She is loearing a complete 
 and deadly outfit of new mourning crowned by a great 
 black hat with plumes. Ben is also in complete 
 new mourning, with black gloves and a band round 
 his hat. He is rather a jolly little man, accustomed 
 to be humorous, but at present trying to adapt 
 himself to the regrettable occasion. He has a bright, 
 chirpy little voice. Mrs. Jordan sails into the 
 room and solemnly goes straight to Mrs. Slater and 
 kisses her. The men shake hands. Mrs. Jordan 
 kisses Henry. Ben kisses Mrs. Slater. Not a 
 word is spoken. Mrs. Slater furtively inspects 
 the neiv mourning.) 
 
 Mrs. Jordan. Well, Amelia, and so he's " gone " 
 at last. 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes, he's gone. He was seventy-two a 
 fortnight last Sunday. 
 
 {She sniffs back a tear, Mrs. Jordan sits on the left 
 of the table. Mrs. Slater on the right. Henry 
 in the armchair. Ben on the sofa with Victoria 
 near him.) 
 
 Ben {chirpily). Now, Ameha, you mustn't give 
 way. We've all got to die some time or other. It 
 might have been worse. 
 
 Mrs. S. I don't see how. 
 
 Ben. It might have been one of us. 
 
THE DEAR DEPARTED. 13 
 
 Henry. It's taken you a long time to get here, 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 Mrs. J. Oh, I couldn't do it. 1 really couldn't 
 do it. 
 
 Mrs. S. {suspiciously). Couldn't do what ? 
 
 Mrs. J. I couldn't start without getting the 
 mourning. {Glancing at her sister.) 
 
 Mrs. S. We've ordered ours, you may be sure. 
 {Acidly.) I never could fancy buying ready-made 
 things. 
 
 Mrs. J. No ? For myself it's such a relief to 
 get into the black. And now perhaps you'll tell us 
 all about it. What did the doctor say ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh, he's not been near yet. 
 
 Mrs. J. Not been near ? 
 
 Ben {in the same breath). Didn't you send for 
 him at once ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Of course I did. Do you take me for a 
 fool ? I sent Henry at once for Dr. Pringle, but he 
 was out. 
 
 Ben. You should have gone for another. Eh, 
 EUza ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Oh, yes. It's a fatal mistake. 
 
 Mrs. S. Pringle attended him when he was alive 
 and Pringle shall attend him when he's dead. That's 
 professional etiquette. 
 
 Ben. Well, you know your own business best, 
 but 
 
 Mrs. J. Yes — it's a fatal mistake. 
 
 Mrs. S. Don't talk so silly, Elizabeth. What 
 good could a doctor have done ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Look at the many cases of persons being 
 restored to life hours after they were thought to be 
 " gone." 
 
 Henry. That's when they've been drowned. 
 Your father wasn't drowned, Ehzabeth. 
 
 Ben {humorously). There wasn't much fear of 
 that. If there was one thing he couldn't bear it was 
 water. 
 
14 THE DEAR DEPARTED. 
 
 [He laughs, but no one else does.) 
 
 Mrs. J. {pained). Ben ! (Ben is crushed at 
 once.) 
 
 Mrs. S. {piqued). I'm sure he washed regular 
 enough. 
 
 Mrs. J. If he did take a drop too much at thnes, 
 we'll not dwell on that, now. 
 
 Mrs. S. Father had been " merry " this morning. 
 He went out soon after breakfast to pay his insur- 
 ance. 
 
 Ben. My word, it's a good thing he did. 
 
 Mrs. J. He always was thoughtful in that way. 
 He was too honourable to have " gone " without 
 paying his premium. 
 
 Mrs. S. Well, he must have gone round to the 
 Ring-o' -Bells afterwards, for he came in as merry as 
 a sandboy. I says, " We're only waiting Henry to 
 start dinner." " Dinner," he says, " I don't want 
 no dinner, I'm going to bed ! " 
 
 Ben [shaking his head). Ah ! Dear, dear. 
 
 Henry. And when I came in I found him undi^essed 
 sure enough and snug in bed. (He rises and stands 
 on the hearthrug.) 
 
 Mrs. J. {definitely). Yes, he'd had a " warning." 
 I'm sure of that. Did he know you ? 
 
 Henry. Yes. He spoke to me. 
 
 Mrs. J. Did he say he'd had a " warning" ? 
 
 Henry. No. He said, " Henry, would you 
 mind taking my boots off ; I forgot before I got into 
 bed." 
 
 Mrs. J. He must have been wandering. 
 
 Henry. No, he'd got 'em on all right. 
 
 Mrs. S. And when we'd finished dinner I thought 
 I'd take up a bit of something on a tray. He was 
 lying there for all the world as if he was asleep, so 
 I put the tray down on the bureau — {correcting 
 herself) on the chest of drawers — and went to waken 
 him. (.4 pause.) He was quite cold. 
 
THE DEAR DEPARTED. 15 
 
 Henry. Then I heard Amelia calHng for me, 
 
 and I ran upstairs. 
 
 Mrs. S. Of course we could do nothing. 
 
 Mrs. J. He was " gone " ? 
 
 Henry. There wasn't any doubt. 
 
 Mrs. J. I always knew he'd go sudden in the 
 end. 
 
 {A pause, they icipe their eyes and sniff back tears.) 
 
 Mrs. S. {yising briskly at length ; in a businesslike 
 tone). Well, will you go up and look at him now, 
 or shall we have tea ? 
 
 Mrs. J. What do you say, Ben ? 
 
 Ben. I'm not particular. 
 
 Mrs. J. {surveying the table). Well then, if the 
 kettle's nearly ready we may as well have tea first. 
 
 (Mrs. Slater puts the kettle on the fire and gets tea 
 ready.) 
 
 Henry. One thing we may as well decide now ; 
 the announcement in the papers. 
 
 Mrs. J. I was thinking of that. What would 
 you put ? 
 
 Mrs. S. At the residence of his daughter, 235, 
 Upper Cornbank Street, etc. 
 
 Henry. You wouldn't care for a bit of poetry ? 
 
 Mrs. J. I hke " Never Forgotten." It's refined. 
 
 Henry. Yes, but it's rather soon for that. 
 
 Ben. You couldn't very well have forgot him 
 the day after. 
 
 Mrs. S. I always fancy " A loving husband, a 
 kind father, and a faithful friend." 
 
 Ben {doubtfully). Do you think that's right ? 
 
 Henry. I don't think it matters whether it's 
 right or not. 
 
 Mrs. J. No, it's more for the look of the thing. 
 
 Henry. I saw a verse in The Evening News 
 yesterday. Proper poetry it was. It rhymed. 
 {He gets the paper and reads) 
 
16 THE DEAR DEPARTED. 
 
 " Despised and forgotten by some you may be 
 But the spot that contains you is sacred to we." 
 
 Mrs. J. That'll never do. You don't say " Sacred 
 to we." 
 
 Henry. It's in the paper. 
 
 Mrs. S. You wouldn't say it if you were speaking 
 properly, but it's different in poetry. 
 
 Henry. Poetic license, you know. 
 
 Mrs. J. No, that'll never do. We want a verse 
 that says how much we loved him and refers to all 
 his good qualities and says what a heavy loss we've 
 had. 
 
 Mrs. S. You want a whole poem. That'll cost 
 a good lot. 
 
 Mrs. J. Well, we'll think about it after tea, and 
 then we'll look through his bits of things and make 
 a list of them. There's all the furniture in his room. 
 
 Henry. There's no jewellery or valuables of that 
 sort. 
 
 Mrs. J. Except his gold watch. He promised 
 that to our Jimmy. 
 
 Mrs. S. Promised your Jimmy ! I never heard 
 of that. 
 
 Mrs. J. Oh, but he did, Ameha, when he was 
 living with us. He was very fond of Jimmy. 
 
 Mrs. S. Well. {Amazed.) I don't know ! 
 
 Ben. Anyhow, there's his insurance money. 
 Have you got the receipt for the premium he paid 
 this morning ? 
 
 Mrs. S. I've not seen it. 
 
 (Victoria jumps up fvom the sofa and comes behind 
 the table.) 
 
 Vic. Mother, I don't think grandpa went to pay 
 his insurance this morning. 
 
 Mrs. S. He went- out. 
 
 Vic. Yes, but he didn't go into the town. He 
 met old Mr. Tattersall down the street, and they 
 went off part St. Philips's Church. 
 
THE DEAR DEPARTED. 17 
 
 Mrs. S. To the Ring-o' -Bells, I'll be bound. 
 
 Ben. The Ring-o' -Bells ? 
 
 Mrs. S. That public-house that John Shorrock's 
 widow keeps. He is always hanging about there. 
 Oh, if he hasn't paid it 
 
 Ben. Do you think he hasn't paid it ? Was it 
 overdue ? 
 
 Mrs. S. I should think it was overdue. 
 
 Mrs. J. Something tells me he's not paid it. 
 I've a " warning," I know it ; he's not paid it. 
 
 Ben. The drunken old beggar. 
 
 Mrs. J. He's done it on purpose, just to annoy us. 
 
 Mrs. S. After all I've done for him, having to put 
 up with him in the house these three years. It's 
 nothing short of swindling. 
 
 Mrs. J. I had to put up with him for five years. 
 
 Mrs. S. And you were trying to turn him over 
 to us all the time. 
 
 Henry. But we don't know for certain that he's 
 not paid the premium. 
 
 Mrs. J. I do. It's come over me all at once 
 that he hasn't. 
 
 Mrs. S. Victoria, run upstairs and fetch that 
 bunch of kevs that's on your grandpa's dressing 
 table. 
 
 Vic. {timidlv). In grandpa's room ? 
 
 Mrs. S. Yes. 
 
 Vic. I — I don't like to. 
 
 Mrs. S. Don't talk so silly. There's no one can 
 hurt you. 
 
 (Victoria goes out reluctantly .) 
 
 We'll see if he's locked the receipt up in the bureau. 
 
 Ben. In where ? In this thing ? {He rises 
 and examines it.) 
 
 Mrs. J. {also rising). Where did you pick that 
 up, Ameha ? It's new since last I was here. 
 
 {They examine it closely.) 
 
18 THE DEAR DEPARTED. 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh — Henry picked it up one day. 
 
 Mrs. J. I like it. It's artistic. Did you buy 
 it at an auction ? 
 
 Henry. Eh ? Where did I buy it, AmeHa ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Yes, at an auction. 
 
 Ben {disparagingly). Oh, second-hand. 
 
 Mrs. J. Don't show your ignorance, Ben. All 
 artistic things are second-hand. Look at those old 
 masters. 
 
 (Victoria returns, very scared. She closes the door 
 after her.) 
 
 Vic. Mother ! Mother ! 
 Mrs. S. What is it, child ? 
 Vic. Grandpa's getting up. 
 Ben. What ? 
 
 Mrs. S. What do you say ? 
 Vic. Grandpa's getting up. 
 Mrs. J. The child's crazy. 
 
 Mrs. S. Don't talk so silly. Don't you know 
 your grandpa's dead ? 
 
 Vic. No, no ; he's getting up. I saw him. 
 
 [They are transfixed with amazement ; Ben and Mrs. 
 Jordan left of table ; Victoria clings to Mrs. 
 Slater, right of table ; Henry near fireplace.) 
 
 Mrs. J. You'd better go up and see for yourself, 
 Amelia. 
 
 Mrs. S. Here — come with me, Henry. 
 
 (Henry draws back terrified.) 
 
 Ben {suddenly). Hist ! Listen. 
 
 {They look at the door. A slight chuckling is heard 
 outside. The door opens, revealing an old man clad 
 in a faded but gay dressing-gown. He is in his 
 stockinged feet. Although over seventy he is vigorous 
 and well coloured ; his bright, malicious eyes twinkle 
 
THE DEAR DEPARTED. 19 
 
 under his heavy, reddish-grey eyebrows. He is 
 obviously either grandfather Abel Merryweather 
 
 or else his ghost.) 
 
 Abel. What's the matter with Httle Vicky ? 
 [He sees Ben and Mrs. Jordan.) Hello ! What 
 brings you here ? How's yourself, Ben ? 
 
 (Abel thrusts his hand at Ben, ie>ho skips back smartly 
 and retreats ivith Mrs. Jordan to a safe distance 
 beloia the sofa.) 
 
 Mrs. S. {approaching Abel gingerly). Grand- 
 father, is that you ? {She pokes him with her hand 
 to see if he is solid.) 
 
 Abel. Of course it's me. Don't do that, 'Melia, 
 What the devil do you mean by this tomfoolery ? 
 
 Mrs. S. {to the others). He's not dead. 
 
 Ben. Doesn't seem like it. 
 
 Abel {irritated by the whispering). You've kept 
 away long enough, Lizzie ; and now you've come j^ou 
 don't seem over-pleased to see me. 
 
 Mrs. J. You took us by surprise, father. Are 
 you keeping quite well ? 
 
 Abel {trying to catch the words). Eh ? What ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Are you quite well ? 
 
 Abel. Ay, I'm right enough but for a bit of a 
 headache. I wouldn't mind betting that I'm not 
 the first in this house to be carried to the cemetery. 
 I always think Henry there looks none too healthy. 
 
 Mrs. J. Well I never ! (Abel crosses to the 
 armchair and Henry gets out of hisivay to the front 
 of the table.) 
 
 Abel. 'Meha, what the dickens did I do with 
 my new slippers ? 
 
 Mrs. S. {confused). Aren't they by the hearth, 
 grandfather ? 
 
 Abel. I don't see them. {Observing Henry 
 trying to remove the slippers.) Why, you've got 'em 
 on, Henry. 
 
20 THE DEAR DEPARTED, 
 
 Mrs. S. {promptly). I told him to put them on 
 to stretch them, they were that new and hard. 
 Now, Henry. 
 
 (Mrs. Slater snatclies the slippers front Henry and 
 gives them to Abel, ivho puts them on and sits in 
 armchair.) 
 
 Mrs. J. [to Ben). Well, I don't call that delicate, 
 stepping into a dead man's shoes in such haste. 
 
 (Henry goes up to the u'indow and pulls up the blind.) 
 
 Victoria rtms across to Abel and sits on the floor 
 
 at his feet.) 
 
 Vic. Oh, grandpa, I'm so glad you're not dead, 
 
 Mrs. S. {in a vindictive whisper). Hold your 
 tongue, Victoria. 
 
 Abel. Eh ? What's that ? Who's gone dead ? 
 
 Mrs, S. {loudly). Victoria says she's sorry about 
 your head. 
 
 Abel. Ah, thank you, Vicky, but I'm feeling 
 better. 
 
 Mrs. S. {to Mrs. J.) He's so fond of Victoria. 
 
 Mrs J. {to Mrs. S.). Yes; he's fond of our 
 Jimmy, too. 
 
 Mrs. S. You'd better ask him if he promised 
 your Jimmy his gold watch. 
 
 Mrs. J. {disconcerted). I couldn't just now. I 
 don't feel equal to it. 
 
 Abel. Why, Ben, you're in mourning ! And 
 Lizzie too. And 'Melia, and Henry and little Vicky ! 
 Who's gone dead ? It's some one in the family. 
 {He chuckles.) 
 
 Mrs. S. No one you know, father. A relation 
 of Ben's. 
 
 Abel. And what relation of Ben's ? 
 
 Mrs. S, His brother. 
 
 Ben {to Mrs. S.) Dang it, I never had one. 
 
 Abel. Dear, dear. And what was his name, 
 Ben? 
 
THE DEAR DEPARTED. 21 
 
 Ben {at a loss). Er — er. {He crosses io front of 
 table.) 
 
 Mrs. S. (r. of table) {prompting). Frederick. 
 
 Mrs. J. (l. of table) {prompting). Albert. 
 
 Ben. Er — Fred — Alb — Isaac. 
 
 Abel. Isaac ? And where did your brother 
 Isaac die ? 
 
 Ben. In — er — in Australia. 
 
 Abel. Dear, dear. He'd be older than you, 
 eh? 
 
 Ben. Yes, five year. 
 
 Abel. Ay, ay. Are you going to the funeral ? 
 
 Ben. Oh, yes. 
 
 Mrs. S. and Mrs. J. No, no. 
 
 Ben. No, of course not. {He retires to the left.) 
 
 Abel {rising). Well, I suppose you've only been 
 waiting for me to begin tea. I'm feeling hungry. 
 
 Mrs. S. {taking up the kettle). I'll make tea. 
 
 Abel. Come along, now ; sit you down and let's 
 be jolly. 
 
 (Abel sits at the head of the table, facing spectator. Ben 
 and Mrs. Jordan on the left. Victoria brings a 
 chair and sits by Abel. Mrs. Slater and Henry 
 sit on the right. Both the women are next to Abel.) 
 
 Mrs. S. Henry, give grandpa some tongue. 
 Abel. Thank you. I'll make a start. {He 
 helps himself to bread and butter.) 
 
 (Henry serves the tongue and Mrs. Slater pours 
 out tea. Only Abel eats with any heartiness.) 
 
 Ben. Glad to see you've got an appetite, Mr. 
 Merryweather, although you've not been so well. 
 
 Abel. Nothing serious. I've been lying down 
 for a bit. 
 
 Mrs. S. Been to sleep, grandfather ? 
 
 Abel. No, I've not been to sleep. 
 
 Mrs. S. and Henry. Oh ! 
 
 Abel {eating and drinking). I can't exactly call 
 
22 THE DEAR DEPARTED. 
 
 everything to mind, but I remember I was a bit 
 dazed, like. I couldn't move an inch, hand or foot. 
 
 Ben. And could you see and hear, Mr. Merry- 
 weather ? 
 
 Abel. Yes, but I don't remember seeing any- 
 thing particular. Mustard, Ben. (Ben passes the 
 mustard.) 
 
 Mrs. S. Of course not, grandfather. It was all 
 your fancy. You must have been asleep. 
 
 Abel {snappishly). I tell you I wasn't asleep, 
 'Meha. Damn it, I ought to know. 
 
 Mrs. J. Didn't you see Henry or AmeHa come 
 into the room ? 
 
 Abel {scratching his head). Now let me think 
 
 Mrs. S. I wouldn't press him, Ehzabeth. Don't 
 press him. 
 
 Henry. No. I wouldn't worry him. 
 
 Abel {suddenly recollecting). Ay, begad! 'Melia 
 and Henry, what the devil did you mean by shifting 
 my bureau out of my bedroom ? 
 
 (Henry and Mrs. Slater are speechless.) 
 
 D'you hear me ? Henry ! 'Melia ! 
 
 Mrs. J. What bureau was that, father ? 
 
 Abel. Why, my bureau, the one I bought 
 
 Mrs. J. {pointing to the bureau). Was it that one, 
 father ? 
 
 Abel. Ah, that's it. What's it doing here ? 
 Eh? 
 
 {A pause. The clock on the mantelpiece strikes six. 
 Every one looks at it.) 
 
 Drat me if that isn't my clock, too. What the 
 devil's been going on in this house ? 
 
 {A slight pause.) 
 
 Ben. Well, I'h be hanged. 
 
 Mrs. J. {rising). I'll tell you what's been going 
 on in this house, father. Nothing short of robbery. 
 
THE DEAR DEPARTED. 23 
 
 Mrs. S. Be quiet, Elizabeth. 
 
 Mrs. J. I'll not be quiet. Oh, I call it double- 
 faced. 
 
 Henry. Now, now, Elizabeth. 
 
 Mrs. J. And you, too. Are you such a poor 
 creature that you must do every dirty thing she 
 tells you ? 
 
 ]Mrs. S. {rising). Remember where you are, 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 Henry {rising). Come, come. No quarrelling. 
 
 Ben {rising). My wife's every right to speak 
 her own mind. 
 
 Mrs. S. Then she can speak it outside, not here. 
 
 x^BEL {rising). {Thumping the table.) Damn it 
 all, will some one tell me what's been going on. 
 
 Mrs. J. Yes, I will. I'll not see you robbed. 
 
 Abel. Who's been robbing me ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Amelia and Henry. They've stolen 
 your clock and bureau. {Working herself up.) They 
 sneaked into your room like a thief in the night and 
 stole them after you were dead. 
 
 Henry and Mrs. S. Hush ! Qaiet, Ehzabeth ! 
 
 Mrs. J. I'll not be stopped. After you were 
 dead, I say. 
 
 Abel. After who was dead ? 
 
 Mrs. J. You. 
 
 Abel. But I'm not dead. 
 
 Mrs. J. No, but they thought you were. 
 
 {A pause. Abel gazes round at them.) 
 
 Abel. Oho ! So that's why you're all in black 
 to-day. You thought I was dead. {He chuckles.) 
 That was a big mistake. {He sits and resum s his 
 tea.) 
 
 Mrs. S. {sobbing.) Grandfather. 
 
 Abel. It didn't take you long to start dividing 
 my things between you. 
 
 Mrs. J. No, father; you mustn't think that. 
 
24 THE DEAR DEPARTED, 
 
 Amelia was simply getting hold of them on her own 
 account. 
 
 Abel. You always were a keen one, AmeUa. I 
 suppose you thought the will wasn't fair. 
 
 Henry. Did you make a will ? 
 
 Abel. Yes, it was locked up in the bureau. 
 
 Mrs. J. And what was in it, father ? 
 
 Abel. That doesn't matter now. I'm thinking 
 of destroying it and making another. 
 
 Mrs. S. {sobbing). Grandfather, you'll not be 
 hard on me. 
 
 Abel. I'll trouble you for another cup of tea, 
 'Melia ; two lumps and plenty of milk. 
 
 Mrs. S. With pleasure, grandfather. (5//^ pours 
 out the tea.) 
 
 Abel. I don't want to be hard on any one. I'll 
 tell you what I'm going to do. Since your mother 
 died, I've lived part of the time with you, 'Melia, 
 and part with you, Lizzie. Well, I shall make a 
 new will, leaving all my bits of things to whoever 
 I'm living with when I die. How does that strike 
 you? 
 
 Henry. It's a bit of a lottery, like. 
 
 Mrs. J. x\nd who do you intend to live with from 
 now ? 
 
 Abel {drinking his tea). I'm just coming to that. 
 
 Mrs. J. You know, father, it's quite time you 
 came to live with us again. We'd make you very 
 comfortable. 
 
 Mrs. S. No, he's not been with us as long as he 
 was with you. 
 
 Mrs. J. I may be wrong, but I don't think father 
 will fancy living on with you after what's happened 
 to-day. 
 
 Abel. So you"d like to have me again, Lizzie ? 
 
 Mrs. J. You know we're ready for you to make 
 your home with us for as long as you please. 
 
 Abel. What do you say to that, 'MeHa ? 
 
 Mrs. S. All I can say is that Elizabeth's changed 
 
THE DEAR DEPARTED. 25 
 
 her mind in the last two years. (Rising.) Grand- 
 father, do you know what the quarrel between us 
 was about ? 
 
 Mrs. J. Amelia, don't be a fool; sit down. 
 
 Mrs. S. No, if I'm not to have him, you shan't 
 either. We quarrelled because Elizabeth said she 
 wouldn't take you off our hands at any price. She 
 said she'd had enough of you to last a life-time, and 
 we'd got to keep you. 
 
 Abel. It seems to me that neither of you has 
 any cause to feel proud about the way you've treated 
 me. 
 
 Mrs. S. If I've done anything wrong, I'm sure 
 I'm sorry for it. 
 
 Mrs. J. x\nd I can't say more than that, too. 
 
 Abel. It's a bit late to say it, now. You neither 
 of you cared to put up with me. 
 
 Mrs. S. and Mrs. J. No, no, grandfather. 
 
 Abel, x^y, you both say that because of what 
 I've told you about leaving my money. Well, since 
 you don't want me I'll go to some one that does. 
 
 Ben. Come, Mr. Merryweather, you've got to 
 live with one of your daughters. 
 
 Abel. I'll tell you what I've got to do. On 
 Monday next I've got to do three things. I've got 
 to go to the lawyer's and alter my will ; and I've 
 got to go to the insurance ofhce and pay my premium ; 
 and I've got to go to St. Phihps's Church and get 
 married. 
 
 Ben and Henry. What ! 
 
 Mrs. J. Get married ! 
 
 Mrs. S. He's out of his senses. 
 
 (General consternation.) 
 
 Abel. I say I'm going to get married. 
 
 Mrs. S. Who to ? 
 
 Abel. To Mrs. John Shorrocks who keeps the 
 Ring-o' -Bells. We've had it fixed up a good while 
 now, but I was keeping it for a pleasant surprise 
 
20 
 
 THE DEAR DEPARTED. 
 
 {He rises.) I felt I was a bit of a burden to you, so 
 I found some one who'd think it a pleasure to look 
 after me. We shall be very glad to see you at the 
 ceremony. (He gets to the doov.) Till Monday, then. 
 Twelve o'clock at St. Phihps's Church. [Opening 
 the door.) It's a good thing you brought that bureau 
 downstairs, 'Melia. It'll be handier to carry across 
 to the Ring-o' -Bells on Monday. 
 
 {He goes out.) 
 
 (The Curtain falls.) 
 
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FRENCH'S ACTING EDITIO^ 
 
 1236 
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 2238 
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 2241) 
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 2242 
 2213 
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 ^ 
 
 ;245 
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 2243 
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 22&0 
 
 VOLUME 150 
 
 The Dentist 
 
 Taken for Granted 
 
 Just as Well 
 
 Hogmany 
 
 Pansy 
 
 A Doctor's Engage- 
 ments 
 
 A Duet 
 
 My Milliner's Bill, Is. 
 
 My Aunt from Cali- 
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 His Life for Hers 
 
 The Meeting 
 
 The Umbrella 
 Duologue 
 
 The Late Lamented 
 
 Woman Triumphant 
 
 Angelina's Lover 
 
 VOLUME 151 
 
 2251 Chrysanthemums 
 
 2252 My Rrst Client 
 
 2253 Punctured 
 
 2254 Old Pals 
 
 2265 Honeymoon Tragedy 
 
 2256 Commission 
 
 2257 Hal, the Highwayman 
 2268 Dinner for Two 
 
 2259 Ninth Waltz 
 
 2260 Human Sport 
 
 2261 Collaborators 
 
 2262 Mere Man 
 
 2263 Packing Up 
 
 2264 Paying Guest 
 
 2265 'Enery Brown 
 
 VOLUME 162 
 
 226(1 The JUt 
 
 2267 'Op-o'-Me-Thumb 
 
 2268 A Marriage Has Been 
 
 Arranged 
 
 2269 Carrots 
 
 2270 Conversion of Nat 
 
 Sturge 
 
 22"^ CIeri( 
 22'i'2 Aubr 
 
 2273 Work 
 
 2274 Twi 
 
 2275 Bridt ^ ^^ . 
 
 2276 That 014 678 240 1 
 
 2277 Well iviatcaea 
 
 2278 Maker of Men 
 
 2279 Gutter of Time 
 
 2280 Game of Chess 
 
 'iiWd Kjection 
 
 Lucinda 
 2310 Uncle Dick's 
 
 VOLUME 153 
 
 2281 Mr. Steinmaiin'* 
 
 Comer 
 
 2282 Ella's Apology 
 
 2283 Colour Sergeant 
 
 2284 Helpless Couple 
 
 2285 First Aid to the 
 
 Wounded 
 
 2286 Correct Thing 
 
 2287 Their New Paying 
 
 Guest 
 
 2288 Domestic Entangle- 
 
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 2289 Salt of Life 
 
 2290 Tims is Money 
 
 2291 Wally and the Widow 
 
 2292 Deceitful Miss Smiths 
 2'93 Holly Tree Inn 
 
 2294 Up-to-date 
 
 2295 Bit of Old Chelsea 
 
 VOLUME 154 
 of 
 
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 2296 Wrong Side 
 
 Koad 
 
 2297 The Open Door 
 
 2298 Prima Donna (Pem- 
 
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 2299 Lights Out (Pemberton) 
 
 2300 Mirror of Time 
 
 2301 Three Blind Mice 
 
 (Muskerry) 
 
 2302 Privy Council 
 
 2303 Snowed up with a 
 
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 VOLUME 7 
 
 2311 That Horrid: 
 
 2312 Bardwell v. I#^ 
 
 2313 House of Nigriw..fe- 
 
 2314 Turtle Doves [der 
 
 2315 Superior Miss Pellen- 
 
 2316 His Good Genius 
 
 2317 Martha Plays the Fairy 
 
 2318 Dumb Cake 
 
 2319 Proposing by Proxy 
 
 2320 Phonnix 
 
 2321 Boatswain's Mate 
 
 2322 Filial Rehearsal 
 
 2323 Two Aunts at a Time 
 
 2324 Nelson Touch 
 
 2325 Convict on the Hearth 
 
 VOLUME 156 
 
 2326 Grey Parrot 
 
 2327 Ghostof Jerry Buiidler 
 
 2328 Bishop's Candlesticks 
 
 2329 Peacemaker 
 
 2330 Changeling 
 
 2331 Wire Entanglement 
 
 2332 Pride of Regiment 
 
 2333 "1588" 
 
 2334 Man on the Kerb 
 
 2335 O'Dowd 
 
 2336 Impertinence of tl; 
 
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 2337 Dramatist at Home 
 
 2338 Martha the Sootlis ve 
 
 2339 Old Martha Is. 
 
 2340 All Through Martha 1- 
 
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