L^'^rench's International Copyrighted (in England, her Colonies, and the United States) Edition of the Works of the Best Authors. R 4699 E8 06 No. 37^ 900 " S - • • • '(% opy 1 r^ A I One i Summer's Day W BY w H. V. ESMOND ^ Al'TlIOR OF "WHKX WE WERE T\VEXTY-0\E.' 'ij!' Copyright, looo, ky ^r. H. French. (^ Atnatettrs are not allowed to produce this play without ^ payment of the ati thors' royalty. All inquiries concern- E ing same should be addressed to the publishers. (h A PRICE 25 CENTS S ^ London ^ SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. ^ PUBLISHERS 89 STRAND New York J SAMUEL FRENCH «1^ PUBLISHER 26 W. 22D Street A ^^^^^: FRENCH'S STANDARD DRAMA. Price 15 Cents each.— Bound Volumes $1.25. , VOL. I. 1 Ion » r»iio I Th« L»dy of Lyon» 4 Rieh*li*u ( Tke Wift • Tk« Ho»»yraoon T Tht School for Scandal • M»B*v "VOL. II. • Tk« Stranger !• Grandfathtr Whitehead U Richard III I» L«T«'. Sacrifice II Tk« Gamtitar 14 A Cur* for tha Heartache II Tha Hunchback 14 Don CKiar da Baian TOL. III. 17 Tba P*or Gaotlaman II Hamlat It Cbarlai II N Vanlct PraierTcd •1 Pliarro fll Tha Lova Chaie M Otballo M Land ma Fir* Shillings VOL. IV. K VIrKinlui K Kbif of iht Commons 91 Lendoa Attarance It Tka Raat Day It Two Gaatlenian ofVerona MTka Jaaloui Wife II Tha Rirali 13 Parfacilon VOL. V. [Debts 18 A Naw War to Par Old M Look Bafara You Leap Si KiiK Joku It NarTOUi Man 8T Damon and Pythias II Claodaitiaa ^larriage If William Tell 40 Day after the Wedding VOL. VI. 41 Speed tha Plough 49 Romao and Juliet 41 Feudal Times 44 Charlai tha Twelfth 41 Tha Brids 41 Tka Follies of a Kight 4T Iron Chest [Fair Ladv 41 Faint Heart Never Won VOL. VIL 41 Road to Ruin 10 Macbeth tl Tamper 19 Eradne 15 Bertram •4 The Dusnaa •I Much Ado About Nothing ••TbeCritia VOL. VIIL 17 Tha Apoitate W Twelfth Night •I Brutus 10 Simpton &. Co •I Merchant of Venice It Old Heads A Young Hearts •I Mountaineers [riage 14 Three Weeks after Mar- VOL. IX. 15 Love •I As You Like It IT The Elder Brother •8 Werner It Gislppus 70 Town and Country 71 KiBg Lear 79 Blue DcTiU VOL. X. 71 Henry VIII 74 Married and Single 7B HenrT IV 7«Paul'iPry 77 Gav Mannering 71 Sweethearts and Wives 71 Serieut Family 10 She Stoops to 'Conquer VOL. XI. 81 Julius Csesar 82 Vicar of Wakefield 8.1 Leap Year 84 The Cattpaw 86 The Passing Cloud 86 Drunkard 87 Rob Roy 88 George Barnwell VOL. XIL 89 Ingomar 90 Sketches in India 91 Two Friends 9 t Jane Shore 93 Corsican Brothers , 94 Mind your own Business 95 Writing on the Wall 9S Heir at Law VOL. XIIL 97 Soldier's Daughter 98 Douglas 99 Marco Spada 109 Nature's Nobleman 101 Sardanapalus 102 Civilisation 10.3 Tlje Robbers 104 Katharine and Petruchio VOL. XIV. 105 Game of Love 106 Midsummer Night's 107 Ernestine [Dream 108 Rag Picker of Paris 109 Flying Dutchman 110 Hypocrite 111 Tiierese - 112 La Tour de Nesle VOL. XV. 113 Ireland As It Is 114 .Sea of Ice 116 Seven Clerks 116 Game of Life 117 Forty Thieves 118 Bryan Boroihme 1 19 Romance and Reality 120 Ugoiino VOL. XVL 121 The Tempest 132 The Pilot 123 Carpenter of Rouen I'M King's Rival 12.S Little Treasure 126 Dombey and Son 127 Parents and Guardians 128 Jewess VOL. XVII. 129 CamiUe 130 Married Life 131 Wenloek of Wenlock 132 Rose of Ettrickvale 133 David Copperfield VOL. XXL 141 All's Fair in Lore 168 Hofer 163 Self 164 Cinderella 166 Phantom 166 Franklin [Moscow 167 The Gunmaker of 168 The Love of a Princa VOL. XXII. 169 Son of the Night 170 Rorv O'Mor* 171 Golden Eagle 172 Rienri 173 Broken Sword 74 Rip Va AVinkla nSIsabelle 176 Heart of Mid Lothian VOL. XXIII. 177 Actress of Padua 178 Floating Beacon 179 Bride of Lair.mermoor 180 Cataract of the Ganges 181 Robber of the Rhine 182 School of Reform 183 Wandering Boys 1S4 Mazeppa VOL. XXIV. 185 Y'oung New York 186 The Victims 187 Romance after Marriage 188 Brigand 189 Poor of New York 190 Ambrose Gwinett 191 Raymond and Agnes 192 Gambler's Fate VOL. XXV. 193 Father and Son 194 Massaniello 196 Sixteen String Jack 196 Youthful Queen 197 Skeleton Witness 198 Innkeeper of Abbeville 199 Miller and his Men 200 Aladdin VOL. XXVI. . 901 Adrienne the Actress 202 Undine S03 Jesse Brown 204 Asmodeus 205 Mormons 206 Blanche of Brandywine 207 Viola 208 Deseret Deserted VOL. XXVII. 209 Americans in Paris 210 Victorine 211 Wixard of the Ware 217 Castle Spectre 213 Horse-shoe Robinson 134 Aline, or the Rose of|214 Armand, Mrs. Mowatt 135 Pauline [Killarney 215 Fashion, Mrs. Mowatt 136 Jane Eyre VOL. XVIII. 137 Night and Morning 138 ^thiop 139 Three Guardsmen 140 Tom Cringle 141 Henriette, the Forsaken 142 Eustache Baudin 143 Ernest Maltravers 144 Bold Dragoons VOL. XIX. 145 Dred, or the Dismal [Swamp 146 Last Days of Pompeii 147 Esmeralda 148 Peter WiUins 149 Ben the Boatswain 150 Jonathan Bradford 151 Retribution 152 Minerali VOL. XX. 1 53 French Spy 154 Wept of Wish-ton Wish 155 Evil Genius 156 Ben Bolt 157 Sailor of France 158 Red Mask 159 Life of an Actress 160 Wedding Day 216 Glance at New Y'ork VOL. XXVIIl. 217 Inconstant 218 Uncle Tom's Cabin 919 Guide to the Stage 220 Veteran 221 Miller of New Jersey 222 Dark Hour before Dawn 223 Midsum'rNight'sDream [Laura Keene's Edition 224 Art and Artifice VOL. XXIX. 225 Poor Y'oung Man 226 Ossawattomie Brown 227 Pope of Rome 228 Oliver Twist 229 Pauvrette 230 Man in the Iron Mask 231 Knight of Arra 232 Moll Pitcher VOL. XXX. 233 Black Eyed Susan •r.'.4 Satan in Paris 235 Rosina Meadows 236 West End, or Irish Heir 237 Six Degrees of Crime 2.38 The Lady and the Devil 239 Avenger, or Moor of Sici- 240 Masks and Faces [ly [ess {French's Standard Drama Continued on jd page of d VOL. XXXI. 241 Merry Wives of Windsor 242 Mary's Birthday 243 Shaiidv Maguire 244 Wild Oats 245 Michael Erie •:46 Idiot Witness 547 Willow Copse 248 People's Lawyer VOL. XXkiL 249 The Boy Martyrs 260 Lucretia Borgia 251 Surgeon of Paris 252 Patrician's Daughter 253 Shoemaker of Toulouse 254 Momentous Question 256 Love and Loyalty 256 Robber's Wffe VOL. XXXIII. 267 Dumb Girl of Genoa 2i8 Wreck Ashore 259 CKiri 260 Rural Felicity 261 Wallace 262 Madelaine 263 The Fireman 264 Grist to the Mill VOL. XXXIV. 265 Two Loves and a Life 266 Annie Blake 267 Steward 268 C.iptain Kvd 269 Niok of the Woods 270 Marble Heart 271 Second Love 272 Dream at Sea VOL. XXXV. 273 Breach of Promise 274 Review 275 Lady of the Lake 276 Stilf Water Runs Deep 277 The .Scholar 278 Helping Hands 279 Faust and Marguerite 280 Last Man VOL. XXXVf. 281 Belle's Stratagem 282 Old and Y'ouug 283 Raflfaella ^ 284 Ruth Oakley • 285 British Slave 266 A Life's Ransom 287 Giralda 28s Time Tries All VOL. xxxvn. 289 Ella Rosenburg 290 Warlock of the Glen 291 Zeiina 292 Beatrice 293 Neighbor Jack wood 294 Wonder 295 Robert Emmet 296 Green Bushes VOL. xxxvin. 297 Flowers of the Forest 298 A Bachelor of Arts 299 The Midnight Banquet 300 Husband of an Hour 301 Love's Labor Lost 302 Naiad Queen 303 Caprice 304 Cradle of Libertr VOL. XXXIX. 305 The Lost Ship 306 Country Squire 307 Fraud and its Victims 309 King and Deserter 310 La Fianiniina 311 A Hard Struggle 312 Gwinnette Vaughan VOL. XL. 313 The Love Knot [Judge 314 Lavat«r, or Not a Bad 315 The Noble Heart 316 Coriolanus 317 The Winter's Tiile 318Eveleen Wilson 319 Ivanhoe 320 Jonathan ia England over^ SAMUEL FRENCH, 26 West 22d Street, New York City. New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request. ONE SUMMER'S DAY H>rv. ESMOND AUTHOR OF " WHEN WE WERE TWENTY-ONE. Copyright, 1900, by T. H. French New York SAMUEL FRENCH publisher 26 WEST 22D STREET LoNDON^ SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. publishers 89 STRAND 1 yu-^iv ONE S Library of Congress Two CoPtes RcceivEo DEC 181900 I Copyright enlry SECOND COPY MInniito ORDER DIVISION DEC £2 1900 ^'\\ •>r' R, ^0,0' UMMER'S DAY. Produced at the Comedy Theatre, London, i6th September, 1897. CHARACTERS. Major Dick Rudyard Charles Hawtrey Phii, Marsden Cosmo vStuart Theodore Bendyshe Henry Kemble Robert Hoddesden Ernest Hendrie Tom, his Nephew Kenneth Douglas Seth, a Gipsy . Lyston Lyle The Urchin J. Bottomley Irene, Hoddesden' s Niece . . .Lettice Fairfax Maysie, his Ward Eva Moore Mrs. Theodore Bendyshe Mrs. Charles Calvert Bess, a Gipsy Lydia Rachel Chiara,* a Gipsy Constance Collier * Clara, Italian Chiara (Ke-a'ra). ONE SUMMER'S DAY. ACT I. Scene. — A corner of an island on the Thames on a bright sujnmer's day. At back, the river, and all round trees and bushes. Overhanging the %uater are willow trees, and in the foreground are two roughly made haystacks, the one R. about three feet high and four feet ift diameter at base ; the one L. four feet high. The whole scene fresh a7td green and cheerful, the birds siiiging in the trees. Bess, a7i old gipsy, is sitting against the smaller haystack, crooning softly to herself and plaiting a basket from a bundle of osiers. After a pause Seth lounges on from r., chewing a straw. He is a hajtd- some gipsy, his face somewhat sullen, age about thirty -five. Bess. (l. ; hardly looking at hi?n) Well, I've been waiting- here for near an hour. Seth. {suddenly) She ain't back yet. Bess. What's she up to ? {chewing the straw) That's our business. I'm no talker. {coming dow7i) She's gone to Windsor — for a Seth. Bess.' Seth. purpose. Bess. Seth. Bess. Seth. Bess. Seth. about. Bess. What's the game ? (R. C.) Quids — and lots of 'em, likely. Wot's it worth ? Maybe a 'undred — maybe more. {chuckling) Maybe less. Maybe. We'll chance it. She knows wot she's Well, out with it — wot's the game ? 4 ONE SUMMER'S DAY. ^ Seth. {crosses L.) Ye can't spoil it if I tells ye — so I'll tell ye. (BESS laughs harshly^ and after a pause Seth lounges across and leans against the other hay- stack, bending over the old ivoman and talking softly) You remember when her husband chucked her and went with his regiment to India ? Bess. I wonder he kept her so long. Lord ! she was a holy terror in those days. Seth. {drily) Ah— that ain't of no account. He took the kid wiv him. Bess. And glad she was to get rid of it. Seth. Ah — then the letter coming from that Captain Rudyard, saying her husband was dead of fever. Bess. Aye— and the kid too, and sending her hfty quid. Seth. {bending down, says quickly) It wasn't true. Bess, {startled) What ! her man not dead t Seth. Oh, yes — he went right enough — but the kid's alive. Bess. Mercy ! Seth. Chiarahas found out that Captain Rudyard has got a kid— seven years old — that he keeps at the Windsor school — a kid he's awful fond of — and as he ain't married, Chiara thinks Bess. Thinks it's hers .? Seth. Yes. Bess. Well, but she don't want the brat ? Seth. {scortifully) Not much ; but if the Captain wants to keep it for hisself, we thinks it will suit him to pay a little something for the loan. Bess. But where is this Rudyard ? Seth. 'Ere— stayin' off the High Street. He's in with the people from the Laurels — sweet on one of the gals there — we've been trying to tind him for near a year now, and we've run up against him at last. She's kept out of his way till we're sure of our game — an' if it's all right — ■ my gentleman will have to pay for keeping a loving mother from her child, {goes back c.) Bess. Serve him right, the unnatural villain, turning an honest woman's child into a gentleman — make 'im pay. Seth. (c.) Ah ! Bess. An' what's she gone to Windsor for ? Seth. To cast her eye over the blessed kid. {crosses R. C.) ONE SUMMERS DAY. 5 Bess. How'd she know it ? Seth, (l. c.) Remember that time she swiped it over the eye .-* That mark'U be good enough for her. Bess. Oh, ah ! Seth. Is that the half-hour striking ? Bess. Yes. Seth. She ought to be {a distant whistle heard) That's her. {tnakes a quick move, is about to go ivhe?t Bess stops him) Bess, {stopping him) Bad luck comes fast enough — better wait — better wait. Seth. (slightly up 1.. C.) It's good luck that's coming coming our way now — why, she's made over six quid out of the young fool from the Laurels, and the old painter there, Bendyshe, has offered 'er ten quid to sit for 'er picture. Bess. She's a one-er — and no mistake. (Chiara, the gipsy, is seen coming quickly through the bushes from R. She is a beautiful woman of about thirty, dark- haired, heavy-eyed, a face of strongly-marked passions. She is picturesquely dressed in the /nixed costume of the tribe, and walks with a graceful swing, her hands on her hips, all her white teeth shining as she smiles. Seth goes eagerly to meet her) Seth. Well .? Chiara. {smiling at him) Well, my handsome Seth ? Seth. Out with it. (Chiara looks over her shoulder at Bess, hjtpatiently) All right — she knows. Is it the kid? Chiara, {carelessly) Yes, I knew my mark. Who says good don't come from evil ? If I hadn't lost my temper that night, we should ha* lost a fortune to-day. Seth. What'U it be worth, do ye think ? Chiara. Who knows ? Seth. We'll make my gentleman pay — and pay hand- some. Chiara. I've been there — didn't see him. He's com- ing over here this afternoon — a picnic with the folk from the Laurels. I'll tackle him then. Seth. You can't have it out before all the lot. Chiara. No, but I can meet him — look at him — re- mind him I'm alive — and then — we'll talk seriously to- gether a little later on. Lord ! how like his father that kid is. {flings herself dow 71 on the ground R.) And how 6 ONE SUMxMER'S DAY. the sight of him brought back old times — those Oxford days — those stuffy rooms — me married — respectable. I wore a veil once. — Ah, ha ! fancy me in a veil — what a fool I felt. Then, a mother — me — more respectable. Phew ! Sick of it all ! You turn up again, and then our bolt together. Ah, ha ! what a time, the free fresh air — the — ah, well ! What a fool I was to make Jack marry me. Bess. Well, it didn't last long, dearie. Chiara. Who cares ? {suddenly) Has the fool boy been here ? Seth. Ain't seen him. [back L. c.) Chiara. 1 promised to meet him here at twelve. Seth. {coming definitely to business) Now, what about this Captain Rudyard ? {standing over L. c. of Chiara) Chiara. {lazily) W'hat about him ? Leave him to me — he's my affair. We'll get the money we want, and then we'll go north, my Seth ! (Bess gets tip, moving Chiara. {watching her as she goes) Moving on ? Bess. Yes, moving on. Seth. {fiercely) Tell us what you mean to do with Rudyard and this kid ? Chiara, {lazily) Shan't, so don't worry. Don't know as I shall do anything — depends how I feel. Seth. {going to her angrily) Look ye here ! Chiara. {smiling at his rage) Don't' bully me, it doesn't pay. {crawls to L. haystack) Bess. (L. of her) Tell him what you mean to do, dearie — black eyes ain't beautiful, and you're a-goin' to sit for your portrait, as I hear, {exit L. still croonifig a7i old dirge to herself) Seth. {standiiig over Chiara and talking angrily) I'll tell you what you've got to do : you goes to Captain Rudyard, and says — " 'Ere, you've stole my child and you've got to take the consequences.'' Chiara. {still smiling lazily at him) Which is Seth. Which is — you pays me fifty quid a year for the loan of 'im, or I hands you over to the law. Chiara. {to herself, smiling) He is a wise man, is my handsome Seth. {he makes an angry gesture, she stops him with a quick movement) Chiara. Hush ! Here comes the city man ! (after ONE SUMMER'S DAY. 7 a slight pause, the Urchin strolls on r, — he is a chubby, broivn-faced, curly-haired little street Arab — his legs are bare, his trousers rolled iLp to the knee, tattered and 7)ia7iy sizes too large for him, the waist being al- most under his armpits. Over his shoulder lie carries a fishing rod fashioned out of a switch of willow j in the other hand is a large bottle swinging by a piece of string, the receptacle for the fish he hopes to catch, he nods to Seth and turning to Chiara looks at her with a disapproving eye. Smiling at him) Well, city man ! Urchin. (R. C. sternly) Don't you haclclress me ; I'm disgustercated wiv yer. Chiara. [pathetically) Ah ! How can we of the wilds hope to please you of the great town ? Urchin. [somewJtat mollified) I admits the 'andi- cap — but, Guv'nor, you mayn't be aweer on it — but yore missis's carrying-on's is enough to — to demoralize this yer wum ! {holds up worm admiringly, preparatory to bait- ing his hook) Seth. {laughing at Chiara. then to Urchin) I've been at work — my eyes have been shut, \yhat liave you seen, city man .? Urchin, {to Seth with dignity) 'Tain't for me to come atween man and wife, but yesterday there was a young torf, bless yer, a kid^ — orl collar and himpidence. 'E flirted round yer missis, he guv her a quid, an' she guv him a kiss. Seth. {laughing) Well, city man, wot's wrong wi' that } She guv me the quid, and she guv the young torf his kiss back agin. Urchin, {fishing desperately) So long as you don't mind. 'Ow about th.e chap I calls 'Oppin' tub — Mr. Bendyshe, a-staying at the Laurels ? I sees 'imgive 'er a fiver to buy a shawl. Chiara. He says he's a great artist — he calls me Cleo- patra. Urchin, {scornfully) Cleopatra — pickles I {goes to bank and fishes R. c.) Chiara. {lying back, smiling lazily, her eyes half closed) He is a great artist — he is going to paint my face and make me immortal forever. I am to meet him this afternoon and he will commence. See, city man, how we live on the wisdom of fools. Seth. You meets 'ini agin to-day ? {rises; down c.) 8 ONE SUMMER'S DAY. Chiara. {laughing) The fool boy at twelve, where we are. The fool man at four, by the osiers. Seth. It's on the stroke of •welve now — so long. Go slow with the schoolboy, Chiara. So long ! 1 ain't far off if yer want me. {exit L. at back) Chiara. The girls from the house-boat will come here to picnic soon. Which do you fancy, city man, the fair one or the dark ? Urchin. Ain't a marryin' man — time enuff for gals when fishin's orf. {scornfully — baits his hook labori- ously) There ain't one as can 'andle a wum as a wum should be 'andled — {he strikes) Corn again — sickening ! Chiara. {laughs, then listens) The fool boy is com- ing — take a lesson in folly, city man. {glides laughingly away into the willows L.) Urchin, {relieved at her departure) Good biz — a fellar carn't fish and tork to gals and loafers. Got 'im ! {with a yell of triu77iph he lands a minnow j after in- specting it with delight he puts it into bottle, then hearing some one coming he looks off) Lor ! 'ere comes the young torf, sure enuff. I ain't going to waste my time on the likes of 'im. {gets higher up the branch which about conceals him, and resumes his fishing) Enter Tom Reid, r. He is a haiidsome boy about seven- teen. He carries a small parcel, and is rather flushed and agitated, looks about anxiously as if ex- pecting some one. Takes out a Waterbttry watch. Tom. She's late. Just like all women. ' I needn't have swotted that last half-mile after all. {flings himself down tinder haystack L. and mops his jforehead—Jan- ning himselj) Bother the flies ! {as he lies, Chiara enters stealthily L. and, after looking routtd, catches sight of him, she creeps behind the haystack, and taking a piece of straw, tickles him with it on the nose. He is unaware of her presence and contimies cursing the flies, till at last he sees the efid of the straw and catch- ing it meets her laughing face round the haystack and springs tip in confusiojt) Chiara. Ain't I a pretty fly, pretty boy ? Tom. {abashed) I didn't mean to — oh — I say — I'm not late, am I ? Chiara. I like to wait for those I {stops, lower- ing her eyes timidly) ONE SUMMER'S DAY. 9 Tom. {taking her hands — eagerly) Say it. Chiara. Say what ? Tom. What you were going to say. Chiara. [releasitig her hands) Nothing. Tom. [grins hugely with delight, then turning to her sheepishly) Will you have this ? {hands her the packet azukwardly) Chiara. {laughs, opetiing it, guessingwith her eyes shut, showi7ig her whole teeth in a smile) It's a jewel — no — it's a chain — no, it's a Tom. It's a chain — thought you'd like a chain — girls usually do. Chiara. (with a cry of genuine delight, putting it 07i) My pretty boy ! {the7t with a deep sigh) Oh, why did you come down here ? {sits on haystack L.) Tom. I say, you're not sorry, are you .? Chiara. No. Tom. We're jolly good friends considering I've only known you three days, but I suppose that's always the way — when it's — well — I mean — serious, you know. {goes to back of haystack and leans over her) Chiara. {ear^iestly) Are you serious ? Tom. Oh, I say, you know, I'm dead serious. Chiara. {sadly) You'll go back to the great school soon, and I shall be left alone. Tom. {with sudden vehemence) Suppose I don't go back — suppose I cut it — and tell the governor of — of — our love — and you and I go somewhere — where it's all like this. Haystacks and sunshine — and loneliness — and oh, I say — you know, you are a stunner. Chiara. {shaking her head with mock pathos) I couldn't live in a town, I should stifle, {sighs and leaves him j crosses R.) Tom. {following her) What is it — you sighed ? Chiara. Don't ask me. Tom. I say, you know, I must ask you. We can't have secrets from each other. Chiara. {with apparejit reluctance) I'm in trouble. Tom. No, no. Chiara. At least not I, but my father. Tom. {deeply distressed aiid annoyed) I say again ! Chiara. {sadly) Yes — dear father, {then defiantly) We must live. Tom. Yes, but poaching, you know. lo ONE SUMMER'S DAY. Chiara. {with mock dignify) Poaching — that's what you call it, you who drive us from place to place — we iiiust live — we will live. We are wanderers, every man's hand is against us. So our hands are against every man's rabbits. Tom. Oh, I say ! Chiara. They are so many — and so fat — so slow ol foot — so convenient — that poor father — {then changing her tone to one of injured virtue) But don't fear, I shall not ask your help. I will sell your gift, and pay the tine, then we shall go away, {goes down L.) Tom. {a7ixionsly) I say, you know, don't go on like that, and don't sell that chain — it belongs to my sister. Chiara. You gave it to me. Tom. Yes — she don't wear it much— but don't sell it, you know, because when we're married she might miss it. Chiara. Did she give it to you for me ? Tom. Well, no ! I've not mentioned it yet ; she was rather huffy this morning, {moves a little R.) Chiara. {suddenly lifting her hand and listening) Voices — follow ! {she darts away L. into the bushes. TO'Sl follows, forgetting his hat by the haystack) Urchin, {showijtg his head end of tree) She's a corker — got off a father on him now. Wot'U she perduce next? I'm off women after this — they knows too much — give me wums ! (Phil Marsden heard off r. Dis- gusted) Lord love a duck — more torfs ! Phil, {cf) Hurry up, slow coach ! Dick, {off) I've got a pipe to carry. Enter Phil, a good-looking, soldierly, young man about twenty-five, quickly through trees. Phil. {after looking about him, goes to river at back C.) Hang it all, they haven't come. (Major Rudyard strolls Oft after him. He is a self-contaijied i7ian, gentle, slow of speech, very good-humored a)id rather lazy) Dick. Of course they haven't — needn't have hurried me — much too energetic — cultivate repose — as I do. {lies down calmly under haystack L. and ptffs placidly at his pipe) Phil. {looking across rivo') They said half-past twelve, didn't they .-* * Dick, {calmly) Oh, yes, they said half-past twelve. ONE SUMMER'S DAY. ii Phil. You're sure we were to meet them here ? Dick. Sure ! At least, I don't know — perhaps they said {pauses pensively, contemplating his pipe) Phil, {impatiently) Said what ? Dick, {much perplexed) Did they say we were to call for them there, or meet them here — I wonder ? Phil. Great Scotland ! — you told me Dick. One or the other — it was one or the other ; we can't be far wrong, you see. Phil, {desperate) Suppose they're waiting for us there .? Dick. Well, they can't grumble ; we're waiting for them here. Phil. What a nice situation ! Dick. Very, but it won't last — they're sure to rout us out — they're girls, you know, {knocks the ash out of his pipe slowly) Now if I hadn't sent my kiddie to school this couldn't have happened. You see he looks after me like a mother, wouldn't dream of letting me forget a little thing like a picnic — at daybreak he'd dash out of his little bed into mine and pound me on the chest and bawl into my nearest ear, " Wake up, Dickie, we're going picnic ; " but now you see because I was a brute, and sent the little beggar to school, we've muddled matters. Phil, {scornfully) We .? Dick. Well, I've muddled matters, {tucks himself comfortably into haystack, then speaks dreamily) Damn shame sending little kiddies to school — stufl'y school — gorgeous green fields — great sweeping blue sky — fresh air into tiny lungs — much better than squeaky slates and horrid niggling sums that won't add up. Phil. Oh, shut up, Dick ! Dick. Ah, forgot — swore I wouldn't mention kiddie, all day, didn't I ? Sorry — accident — you're awful rough on me — but then you're not a father. Phil. Neither are you. Dick. That's true — but you needn't shove it down my throat. Phil, {suddenly, lookiftg off\.., breaks into a laugh) Dick, look here ! — by Jove, it's an awful lark. Dick, {lazily) Couldn't move for an earthquake. {quickly jumping up) Dash it — must for earwigs ! (brushes an earwig off his arm, then lies down again) Phil. It's young Tom and that gipsy girl ; I told you 12 ONE SUMMER'S DAY. about it last night — by Gad, the little beggar's very hard hit. It's as good as a play, Dick. It's a play that can become very serious. It must be stopped. Phil. Pooh ! Boys will be boys. Dick. Boys like Tom are old enough and young enough to put millstones round their necks — as boys they like the weight — as men they find it heavy — sometimes it crushes 'em. Phil. What's up now ? Dick. I was thinking of poor old Jack. Phil, {gravely) By Gad, I forgot ; his affair was with a gipsy, wasn't it ? Dick. His affair — we don't worry over other people's millstones. Phil. Pooh ! Jack was a sentimental idiot ; he mar- ried the girl. Dick, {quietly) Jack was a gentleman ; Jack was a chum of mine ; Jack was the father of my kiddie ; don't forget that ! Phil. I'm sorry, old chap, {pause) I say though, you ought to come and look at this girl — she's magnifi- cent. Tom's got devilish good taste. Dick. Devilish is right. Phil. Come and look at her. Dick. Not I — I hate the tribe — never feel safe when I think of 'em. Phil, {crosses R.) You're too old and too ugly for kidnapping, Dicky. Dick. Shut up, you fool ! Phil. My dear Dick, you're thinking of that kid again — you're as nervous as a hen with one chicken. Dick. If the hen knew that the chicken didn't belong to her, I've the deepest sympathy with her nervousness, Phil. One would think that all the world had formed into a league to rob you of your most ordinary little boy. Dick. He is not an ordinary little boy ; he is a — a — {his voice changes to one of great tenderness and he lies 071 his back chucklittg contentedly) He's all right ; and when I get back to town I'm going to buy him the largest cannon to be got for money — you know I think that's a fine trait in that boy's character — he'd a dem sight sooner play with a cannon and talk with the chaps after mess than sit m a poky nursery learning the alphabet ! ONE SUMMER'S DAY. 13 Phii- Marvellous ! Dick, {grunts with pleasure, sjnokes peacefully — after lo7ig pause) Phil, you blundering ass, ifyou ever let out to a soul that I'm not kiddie's real father, I'll use my influence with the War Office, and get you reduced to the ranks. Phil. I'm as safe as a house ; but I wonder what has become of his mother. Dick, (desperately) Great Scotland ! — the sun's blaz- ing upon us — the gentle breezes are kissing us — the ear- wigs and centipedes are crawling in and out and all over us — two jolly girls are kicking their heels waiting for us, Heaven knows where — and you rake up that eternal night- mare of mine — and for the love of goodness give me a match, for my pipe's out. Phil, {chucking him a matchbox) Go easy, there are only three. Dick, {strikes one, the head conies off) Wrong 'un ! {strikes another, again the head comes off) Two wrong 'uns ; my dear Phil, why don't you support home indus- tries, who cares for Sweden on the banks of the Thames ! {strikes the last and lights his pipe, handi7ig back the empty box) Phil. Thanks, old man ; hope there were enough ! Dick, {puffing peacefully) Just ! Phil, {rises j looking at him) Lazy beggar; don't you think w^e had better go and see if the girls {up c. a little) Dick. My dear chap, why girls ? You know per- fectly well that there's only one girl you think about — a girl with dark hair and gentle eyes — a girl with a sweet voice and — and a little turned-up nose. Phil. Shut up, Dick ! Dick, {after a pause) If I ask you a straight ques- tion, will you give me a straight answer ? Phil. Yes. {pause) Well .? Dick. Don't quite like to ask you now. Phil. Go on, out with it ! Dick. Shall— I— yes— I— I think I will. Phil. Well ? {a long pause, the two men looking awkwardly at otie another) Dick. Do you love her very dearly ? Phil. Very dearly, Dick. Dick, {after a pause) Good luck to you, boy. 14 ONE SUxMMER'S DAY. Phil, {comiftg dowti slowly) Dick ! Dick. Old man ! Phil. {Jmskily) Will you answer me a straight question straightly ? Dick. Can't say ; what is it ? Phil, {simply, but with an almost trembling voice) Do you — love her, Dick ? Dick, {after a pause — smokes vigorously , theft says slowly) My dear boy — I'm thirty-eight — I've got four hundred a year, I've got a little kiddie to launch into the dreary old sea of trouble — I promised Jack he should have all the modern armor plates and improvements to keep him afloat — metaphor's a bit mixed — but translated it means — my hands are too full to tackle such a serious subject as matrimony. Phil. You've not answered me, Dick. Dick. Not answered you ? {pause, then with mock gravity) Circumstances have made me the father of a family of one ; it's obviously too late to think of a wife now. {gets up, holds out his hand cheerily) Good luck to you, boy, you're a damned good chap and — and — she's — she's, well ^^^^ know what she is, and don't forget to ask kiddie and me to the wedding, {crosses R. c.) Phil, (c, laughi?ig) Perhaps she won't have me. Dick. (r. c.) Won't have you — she must have you. Don't stand any nonsense like that. Phil. Women are curious critters. Dick, {dreamily) Women are women still, some of and let's be grateful for those that are left, say {quietly) I mean to ask her to-day. {stiddenly) What ! you've not asked her yet — God bless my soul — and you've left her eating her heart out on a picnic basket all this time. By Gad ! if I'd been in your shoes I'd have eloped with her years ago, picnic basket and all. Phil. I've only known her five months. Dick, {{half to himself, dreamily) I've known her since she was a baby in arms — and — and — I've — I've been damned fond of her all the time, Phil. Let's go and see if they're at the other place. Dick. You go, I'll finish my pipe, {returns to hay- stack) Phil, {looking dowfi the river) By Jove, here they ONE SUMMER'S DAY. 15 come — then we were right — oh, I say, hang it all, they've brought old Bendyshe with them. Dick. What an all-absorbing power is jealousy ! — it doesn't stop short of an Adonis of fifty with a sixty- inch waist. Phil, (^shouting cheerfully at the approaching punt) Oh, I say, this isn't 12.30. Maysie. {calls back) We had to go back ; Mr. Ben- dyshe forgot his umbrella. {?¥i\\. groans at DiCK, who is still propped up against the haystack smoking placidly. The punt appears in sight. Maysie is punting, she is dressed in white. In the punt Irene,