Part 9

LADY (_aside_). He calls it a _profession!_

GENTLEMAN. There's no saying how long the Home Secretary might have kept me there; but I couldn't stand it any longer, so I managed to make my escape, and now I'm free once more!

LADY (_suddenly starting up with a scream_). Stop, sir! Don't say any more! Have pity on me, for mercy's sake! (_falling on her knees and clasping her hands_).

GENTLEMAN (_astounded_). My dear madam--

LADY (_hysterically_). I know who you are; I know all about the scar on your forehead! But I won't betray you--I won't, indeed! Here, take my purse!--take my watch! (_thrusting the articles into the GENTLEMAN'S hands_)--_all_ I have, good Mr. Burkshaw!--but spare my life!

GENTLEMAN. Your life? Mr. Burkshaw? What--what do you mean?

LADY. Mercy! mercy!

GENTLEMAN (_seriously_). My dear madam! Pray compose yourself! You have evidently fallen into some strange error; in a word, I happen to be--

LADY. Yes, yes! I know who you happen to be! Take my advice and jump out of the train!

GENTLEMAN (_astonished_). Jump out of the train? Madam, your strange conduct compels me to be serious! In a word, I have the honor to be a Government inspector of prisons!

LADY. Eh? What? You--an inspector of prisons?

GENTLEMAN. Yes, madam (_taking off his cap and bowing to LADY_).

LADY (_eagerly looking at GENTLEMAN'S forehead_). And--you _haven't_ got a scar on your forehead? Oh, sir! if you only knew how delighted I am that you haven't got a scar on your forehead!

GENTLEMAN (_bewildered_). A scar on my forehead? (_feeling his forehead_). But may I ask what has suggested to you all these notions about thieves and robbers?

LADY. Why, you've been talking about nothing else for the last quarter of an hour!

GENTLEMAN (_smiling_). I beg your pardon. You certainly first began the conversation about these--_gentlemen._

LADY. Because you said that you associated with them.

GENTLEMAN. Naturally, as an inspector of prisons.

LADY. Then those portraits--in your possession?

GENTLEMAN. Were taken merely to forward the ends of justice!

LADY (_with a sigh of relief_). I understand it all! I can laugh at my folly now, which entirely arose from this silly newspaper paragraph--the sole cause of all my absurd terror.

GENTLEMAN. What newspaper paragraph?

LADY. Read this, sir (_giving him newspaper_).

GENTLEMAN (_looking at paper, and then giving way to a loud laugh_). Ha, ha, ha! Why, my dear madam, this is quite an old story! Our interesting friend, Mr. Burkshaw, happened to be shot in attempting his escape from Dartmoor more than twelve months ago! (_Looking at date of newspaper._) Of course, this paper is a year old--December, 1884!

LADY. So it is! Oh, sir! what must you think of me?

GENTLEMAN (_in a tender tone_). May I tell you? That you are the most charming travelling companion-- (_Here noise of train stopping, engine, railway-whistle, etc., heard._)

VOICE (_outside_). Paddington! Paddington! (_LADY and GENTLEMAN both rise._)

GENTLEMAN (_gallantly_). I am staying some time in London, madam. Will you permit me to call upon you, if only to remove from your mind any lingering doubt as to my perfect identity?

LADY. With pleasure, sir! (_Suddenly, and in a very gracious tone._) Oh, sir! how _very_ good of you to be a Government inspector of prisons! (_holding out her hand to GENTLEMAN, who takes it and raises it to his lips_).

VOICE (_again heard_). Paddington! (_The GENTLEMAN and LADY gather their packages and bow to each other as the CURTAIN FALLS._)

TAKEN FROM THE FRENCH.

_An Original Comedietta, in One Act._

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

SIR FELIX FRITTERLY.

ARTHUR VALLANCE.

COLONEL COSEY.

LADY FRITTERLY.

MYRTLE VANE.

SCENE.--Sir Felix Fritterly's Country-house.

_A handsomely furnished apartment. Bay-window (practicable) with curtains at R. U. E., conservatory C., doors R. and L., couch at R. C., chairs, piano, etc. COLONEL discovered lying on couch, his handkerchief over his head--ARTHUR VALLANCE in morning costume._

ARTH. (_looking at COLONEL_). Still asleep! And yet I must awake him (_striking a very loud chord on the piano_).

COL. (_pulling handkerchief off his head and sitting bolt upright on couch_). Come in! (_Seeing ARTHUR._) Oh, it's you? For goodness' sake, Arthur, don't make such an infernal noise! Do you want to dislocate that implement of torture?

ARTH. Don't you like it, uncle? I thought you were fond of music!

COL. You don't call that music, do you? (_getting up from couch_). I accept your friend Fritterly's invitation to his country-house for a few weeks' quiet--

ARTH. Well, you've got it, haven't you?

COL. Don't interrupt me (_snappishly_).

ARTH. I was merely anticipating--

COL. Who the deuce wants you to anticipate! Take things as I do, and wait till they come round! My idea of a quiet life is to get up at eleven, when the world has been thoroughly aired by that beneficent warming-pan, the sun; next, breakfast at twelve--twelve's a lovely hour for breakfast--have the morning papers all to yourself, and escape being dragged round the grounds like the rest of the visitors--to see the early peas, and the asparagus beds, and spring onions!

ARTH. Ha! ha! Well, what next?

COL. Breakfast over, a quiet nap; a bit of lunch at three; a heavenly slumber till dinner-time at seven; a cup of coffee, a cigar, and to bed at ten! That's my idea of a rational, peaceful existence!

ARTH. You'd better by half shoulder your gun and have a pop at the partridges!

COL. Thankee--I never went out with a gun but once in my life, and then I shot a couple of dogs and a game-keeper; so I gave it up; for if I'd gone on as I began, dogs and game-keepers would have been at a premium long before this!

ARTH. Ah! it was a bad business for you, uncle, that you didn't take a wife.

COL. It would have been a precious deal worse for my wife if I had!

ARTH. Well, every one to his taste. What you call existence _I_ call a state of positive torpidity. It may suit _you;_ but at my age a man hungers and thirsts after a little more excitement.

COL. Then why the deuce don't you take it? Go out fishing--in the duck-pond--or go and see the cows milked, or the pigs fed; or, better still, here's no end of excitement for you under your very nose.

ARTH. Where?

COL. At that window (_pointing to window_); gardener always at work rolling the lawn, or watering the flowers, or picking up worms, or killing slugs, and without the slightest fatigue for you; all you have to do is to settle yourself down at the window--

ARTH. Settle down, eh? My dear uncle, that's the very thing I want to do! In a word, Myrtle Vane--Lady Fritterly's sister--

COL. Ugh! The old story over again, eh? Lady Fritterly's sister is a niceish sort of girl--

ARTH. (_indignantly_). Niceish sort of girl! She's an angel!

COL. Rubbish! Besides, as I said before, you're too young to marry yet; wait another ten or fifteen years, and then begin to look about you. You haven't popped to her, have you?

ARTH. Popped?

COL. Proposed!

ARTH. No!

COL. Then how do you know she'd have you?

ARTH. Of course I don't _know;_ but I think she _might._

COL. There's a conceited young puppy for you!

ARTH. (_coaxingly_). Especially if you'll encourage my attentions--like my dear, kind old uncle!

COL. Which your "dear, kind old uncle" doesn't intend to do.

ARTH. You don't, eh? Very well, then listen to me! I shall do something desperate!

COL. Wait till I get out of the room! (_Feeling his pulse._) I thought as much! Going like a windmill in a gale of wind! This excitement's too much for me, I must take a sedative! (_takes pillbox out of his pocket; opens it, and tosses two pills into his mouth one after the other_). And now, young fellow, listen to me. If you are so anxious to _settle,_ as you call it, better begin with your bootmaker! In a word, you don't marry yet with my consent. Marry _without_ it, and I leave every shilling I've got to--to the Society for the Suppression of Virtue--I mean the Propagation of Vice--I don't know what I'm talking about! (_swallows two more pills, and hurries out at R., slamming door violently after him_).

ARTH. Just as easy to argue him out of his prejudices as it would be to make a Quaker kick his mother's-- Oh! here comes Myrtle! What a contrast!--he all apathy--she all impetuosity! Of course I shall have to give her an account of my morning's employment, as usual, which consists of breakfast--three slices of toast, a rasher of bacon, a couple of eggs, and a cup of coffee! and not a bad morning's work, either!

_Enter MYRTLE at C. in morning dress--a large garden hat and gloves._

MYRT. Good-morning, Mr. Vallance! has nature no attractions for you, that you remain in-doors such a lovely day as this? Following your uncle's example, as usual, I presume?

ARTH. On the contrary, I've been very hard at work, I assure you, trying to reduce my uncle's bump of obstinacy.

MYRT. But in vain?--the _protuberance_ defied your efforts. And has that been your entire morning's work?

ARTH. Physically, yes! Mentally, no!

MYRT. The _physical_ we'll dismiss; the _mental_ consisting of--reading the newspaper, eh? (_smiling_).

ARTH. What can a man do such weather as this? It's too hot to walk, too early for billiards--only fit for smoking. By-the-bye, I _did_ manage to get as far as the stables, where I had a cigar.

MYRT. And this is the new leaf you promised me you would turn over--a tobacco-leaf! You are sadly deficient in energy, Mr. Vallance.

ARTH. I confess it. But brought up as I was from my earliest infancy under my uncle--

MYRT. (_smiling_). Under your uncle?

ARTH. Yes--(_suddenly_)--no, of course not. I mean under his _supervision_--how can I be otherwise than I am? He resents the slightest approach to activity as a slur on himself; and the highest compliment you can pay him is to yawn in his face (_checking a yawn with difficulty_).

MYRT. I beg pardon--I'm afraid I'm in the way.

ARTH. Not at all! But why are you in such a hurry to go?

MYRT. To allow you more leisure for (_imitating ARTHUR'S yawn_)--you know!

ARTH. Oh, Myrtle--do you object to my calling you Myrtle?

MYRT. You should have asked that question before you _did._

ARTH. If my tongue has been silent, surely my eyes must have spoken for me?

MYRT. (_stiffly_). Mr. Vallance, you forget yourself!

ARTH. Because I was thinking of you (_tenderly_).

MYRT. (_aside_). This is getting too serious. (_Aloud._) But you really must excuse me. I have my plants to attend to--a favorite creeper especially that requires nailing up.

ARTH. Let me go with you. I'll make myself so useful--you'll see how hard I'll work. I'll hold the ladder for you, and hand you up the hammer and tin-tacks!

MYRT. What an exertion! And all for me! Ha! ha! ha!

ARTH. (_annoyed_). I see how it is, madam; you've no feeling, or you wouldn't treat me so cruelly, so capriciously! If you had the slightest particle of regard for me, you'd let me hand you up the hammer and tin-tacks!

MYRT. You accuse _me_ of caprice! _you,_ who never knew what it is to be in earnest!

ARTH. I am so _now,_ I assure you.

MYRT. Then listen to me, Arthur Vallance. Let me see that you possess some energy, some enthusiasm, some strength of will, then I may, perhaps, give you a better answer. Good-morning.

[_Goes out at C. towards R._

ARTH. (_calling after_). Stop, Myrtle! _Do_ let me come and hand you up the hammer and tin-tacks! So! I'm to do something energetic, am I? Drown myself in the duck-pond? Yes!--no. I have it! I'll say good-by to Fritterly, and cut this place at once! And then, Miss Vane, perhaps you'll be sorry--perhaps you'll regret that you didn't let me hand you up the hammer and tin-tacks! Let me see, there's an express to town at three. (_Looking at his watch._) I can catch that. My traps can follow (_hurrying up towards door L. H., and coming into collision with SIR FELIX, who enters at the same time_).

SIR F. Holloa, old fellow, where the deuce are you off to in such a hurry?

ARTH. Don't ask me--I'm going out of my mind!

SIR F. The deuce you are! Well, if I may judge by appearances, it won't take you very long to get to the end of _that_ journey! Confound it, man, will you explain?

ARTH. Well, you know the feelings I entertain towards Miss Vane?

SIR F. Myrtle? Yes.

ARTH. Well, you'll hardly believe it; but when I proposed to her just now--

SIR F. You proposed to her? (_astonished_).

ARTH. Yes--to hand her up the hammer and tin-tacks--

SIR F. (_astonished_). Hammer and tin-tacks? What the deuce are you talking about?

ARTH. (_helplessly_). I'm sure I don't know--yes, I do. She said that when I showed a little energy--a little enthusiasm--a little something else, she'd perhaps give me a better answer.

SIR F. A better answer! What on earth can that mean?

ARTH. I can't tell! (_Suddenly._) Yes, I can, of course! It can only mean one thing (_enthusiastically_)--that she _will_ let me hand her up the hammer--

SIR F. (_shouting_). Confound it, drop that hammer! You've been hammering that hammer into my ears for the last ten minutes! Now! (_turning VALLANCE round to him face to face_) speak like a man of sense--if you've got any left in you!

ARTH. Well, then, I ventured to speak to my uncle--

SIR F. Old Cosey?

ARTH. Yes, old Cosey--about Myrtle, and he coolly told me I mustn't think of getting married for the next ten or fifteen years!

SIR F. Come, I like that!

ARTH. Do you? It's more than I do--unless, he said, he saw some urgent necessity for it; but that if I married without his consent he'd disinherit me.

SIR F. Is that all?

ARTH. All! It strikes me as being quite enough. No, it isn't all--it's only half, for Myrtle--

SIR F. (_cutting him short_). Never mind Myrtle; I know all about her. She thinks you a bit of a milksop--s--so do I; that you've no energy--not an atom! no will of your own--never had! and that in order to reinstate yourself in her good opinion you must do something _desperate!_ So you shall! Now what do you mean to do?

ARTH. Show a proper spirit, and--run away!

SIR F. Run away! Certainly not--fling yourself into my arms and I'll pull you through! So cheer up!

ARTH. It's very easy to say "cheer up" to a fellow who feels himself between two stools, with the certainty of coming down a cropper!

SIR F. But what's the use of giving you advice? You'd never follow it! You haven't the pluck to do anything desperate!

ARTH. I told uncle I would! But I'm not going to make away with myself merely to prove that I'm a man of my word!

SIR F. Pshaw! Now let's understand each other. Myrtle insists on your giving her a convincing proof of energy--pluck--determination--and all that sort of thing! You're not limited as to the direction they may take?

ARTH. Not at all!

SIR F. Good--and your uncle refuses his consent to your marriage unless he sees some urgent necessity for it?

ARTH. Exactly!

SIR F. Then the same medicine will do for both! Old Cosey has a great regard for propriety and morality, and all that sort of thing--hasn't he?

ARTH. Intense!

SIR F. Then we'll give him such a shock on that score, he'll think that his opposition to your wishes has driven you frantic with despair!

ARTH. But Myrtle?

SIR F. Has only to imagine there's a chance of your turning out a "naughty, good-for-nothing reprobate," and she'll be only too glad to reclaim her lost sheep at once!

ARTH. What then?

SIR F. Oh, then we must borrow a wrinkle from the French! As your uncle won't hear of your taking a wife of your own, take somebody else's!--no matter whose. Take _mine;_ she's the handiest!

ARTH. Don't be absurd!

SIR F. I'm perfectly serious! All your uncle wants is to snooze away his existence. We must wake the old boy up!!

ARTH. How?

SIR F. By an elopement!! A _pretended_ one, of course, which you shall propose to my wife, and _he_ shall overhear!

ARTH. _I_ propose an elopement to Lady Fritterly? She'll be indignant!

SIR F. How do you know that? She may feel flattered! At any rate I'll take all the responsibility!--you may be as fascinating as you choose! Ha! ha!

ARTH. But, man alive, I'm not in the habit of running away with other people's wives! I shouldn't know how to begin. Something in this style?--"Please, ma'am, will you run away with me?"

SIR F. Not half tender enough! (_Clasping his hands and with exaggerated passion._) "Loveliest of women"--then down on your knee--it don't matter which--both if you like. Then exclaim, "My bosom's torn with conflicting emotions"--"my brain is in a whirlwind of agony and despair"--tearing your hair out by handfuls all the time. Don't forget _that!_

ARTH. Stop! Don't be in such a confounded hurry! Let me see! "Loveliest of women," one! (_counting on his fingers_)--"conflicting emotions," two!--"agony," three!--"despair," four! Can't you make it five--one for each finger?

SIR F. Five--the elopement!--_there_ you must come out a little stronger--(_declaiming in exaggerated tone_)--"Let us fly, loved one!--horses are in readiness to bear us to the nearest station, where the flashing express shall whirl us to--to--" anywhere you like--Madagascar--Seringapatam--Pegwell Bay--no matter!

ARTH. Oh! that's the style, is it? By Jove, I've half a mind to chance it! But when is this precious scheme of yours to come off?

SIR F. At once! As soon as I can secure the presence of my wife, and old Cosey as a listener!--he always takes a nap on this couch when the coast is clear--(_turns the couch round with back to the audience_). There!--now, you take a stroll in the grounds--I'll hide behind the window-curtains and give you the signal to come in. Be off! (_pushing him up stage_).

ARTH. Wait a minute--(_counting on his fingers_)--"Loveliest of women," "conflicting emotions," "agony," "paggony"--no, not "paggony," "despair." Let me see, what's the little finger?

SIR F. The elopement!

ARTH. All right!

[_Exit at C. towards R., counting his fingers._

SIR F. He's gone at last! I ought to have been born in an atmosphere of diplomacy to develop my talent for intrigue! Ha, ha, ha! how this "little game" of mine will astonish them! But they all want waking up in this house! Cosey's an old hedgehog, all prickles and prejudices! Arthur's--never mind what! Myrtle's a crab-apple--pleasant to look at, but occasionally rather tart to the taste! (_here LADY FRITTERLY enters at door L., unperceived by SIR FELIX_). As for my wife (_here LADY F. stops and listens_), she's a charming woman; but she has one fault, for which I'd gladly exchange a good many of her virtues--she's so dreadfully proper! Shall I take her into my confidence? No! she hates jokes--especially mine. How she will stare when Arthur opens his _batteries!_--ha--ha!--run away with my wife!--the notion's too absurd.

LADY F. (_aside_). Indeed! So, so, husband of mine!--(_comes down and taps SIR FELIX on the shoulder_). Felix!

SIR F. (_turning_). Grace! (_Aside._) I wonder if she overheard!

LADY F. You seem merry!--laughing at your own jokes? Quite right you should, for nobody else does!

SIR F. Thank you! (_Aside._) All right! she didn't hear anything. Perhaps I'd better prepare her, just a little bit, or she might petrify poor Arthur with one of her tragedy looks before he opens his mouth, and then he'd take to his heels to a certainty! (_Aloud._) By-the-bye, my dear Grace, have you noticed anything peculiar in young Vallance's behavior lately?

LADY F. No; he seems as apathetic as ever; he may, perhaps, have shown a little more attention to me than usual (_with intention_).

SIR F. (_aside_). The deuce he has! I wonder what she'll say presently when he comes out with his "agony" and "despair?" (_Aloud._) I don't mean his behavior to _you_--but to Myrtle! He's not half so spooney--I mean attentive--as he used to be, and I fear there's a reason for it! (_with significance_).

LADY F. Indeed!

SIR F. Yes! he _may_ be smitten with _somebody_ else! At _his_ age the affections are fickle, volatile--skipping like a flea--

LADY F. Felix!

SIR F. I mean _sipping like a bee_ from flower to flower! Myrtle is young--very young; but even youth like hers _may_ become insipid! The love of every precocious boy of fifteen is a woman of _thirty!_ I began at twelve!

LADY F. A woman of thirty--_my_ age! Understand, sir, that no woman cares to be reminded of her age when she is turned thirty, any more than that she wears false hair! Your remark, therefore, is scarcely polite; but with your wife it appears you consider no such politeness necessary!

SIR F. Politeness! My dear Grace, what is politeness, after all?--merely the gloss of society! I suppose you'll admit that the shiny stuff they put on the top of the buns doesn't make them taste any the sweeter?

LADY F. Spare me your absurd similes, and don't mistake flippancy for wit!

SIR F. (_aside_). That's a dig in the ribs for me! (_Aloud._) But we are wandering from our subject! Do you think Myrtle loves Vallance at all?

LADY F. I fancy she likes him well enough!

SIR F. "Well enough" won't do! She must like him a _great deal_ better--as I believe she would if we could only make her just a little bit jealous!

LADY F. Perhaps so--but how? My lady's-maid is no beauty! The house-maid's no chicken! The cook's too fat! And there's no one else!

SIR F. No, exactly! (_Here LADY FRITTERLY turns and goes up stage._) Are you going out this morning?

LADY F. Yes, unless you wish for the pleasure of my society here!

SIR F. Well, it would be a novelty!

LADY F. And you promise to spare me the infliction of those melancholy exhibitions which you call jokes?

SIR F. I'll be as dull as an undertaker! Suppose you put a few stitches into that smoking-cap of mine, which has been your sole occupation in needle-work for the last two years and a half!

LADY F. Be it so! It's in my room--I'll fetch it! (_Aside as she goes up stage._) So--so--he's evidently got some "little game" on hand--which it will be my business to find out! (_Turning to SIR F._) Ta! ta!

[_Goes out at door L. H._

SIR F. Poor, unsuspecting innocent, it's too bad to take advantage of her simplicity! Ah! here comes old Cosey for his forty winks--better and better--but he mustn't see me! (_Hides behind window-curtain._)

_Enter COLONEL at R.; looks round._

COL. Nobody here! got it all to myself! That's just what I like! I was afraid of meeting Fritterly! He's a pleasant fellow enough in his way, but I prefer being _out_ of his way! To be within the sound of his voice is like living over a printing-office--one continual clatter! Now, then, for a little solitary rumination!--there's nothing equals it. Look at a cow--how she enjoys it! and isn't she the most peaceful of all animals? Who ever heard of a cow in a passion? See the touching resignation with which she allows herself to be milked! I wish Arthur had more of that docile animal in his composition! he wouldn't talk of doing something desperate! Now, then, for a delicious nap! (_Ties his handkerchief over his head and lies down on couch, and no longer in sight of audience._)

SIR F. (_peeping from behind curtain_). Thank you, colonel, for your flattering opinion of me; but I'll be even with you! I wonder if he's asleep? (_advancing on tiptoe to couch_). Yes, sound as a top! Now, then, to call in Arthur! Stop a bit! let me first perform the part of the benevolent robin in the "Babes in the Wood," and cover this "Sleeping Beauty" up! (_Carefully spreading several antimacassars over COSEY._) There! now for Arthur! (_Runs to window and waves his hand._) All right; he sees me!

_Enter VALLANCE at C._

ARTH. Well, you still stick to your plan?

SIR F. Like a horse-leech. My wife will be here directly!

ARTH. But Uncle Cosey?

SIR F. Comfortably tucked in there (_pointing to couch_), to be roused from the land of dreams when the proper time arrives with this implement (_taking a long feather brush_). Sure you've got your part in this little domestic drama by heart? Rehearse!