Chapter 5

SCENE: _The same. Discover_ MATT _in the same seat and attitude, with paper and cigar._ DOLLY _enters._

_Matt._ Well??

_Dolly._ I've had an awful time with her----

_Matt._ How?

_Dolly._ [_Seated._] First she had another fit of hysterics--then she longed to go out into the night air to cool her fevered brow--then she moaned out something about her noble Lucas----

_Matt._ And now?

_Dolly._ I've persuaded her to let Peters undress her. I've got her off my hands at last.

_Matt._ That's a comfort.

_Dolly._ Dad!

_Matt._ Yes.

_Dolly._ I won't have her here next Christmas.

_Matt._ No, I wouldn't.

_Dolly._ [_Repeats in a slow, aggrieved, enraged way, emphasizing each syllable._] Whatever happens, I will not have that woman in my house next Christmas. You hear that?

_Matt._ Yes. You won't have her here next Christmas!

_Dolly._ I mean it, this time. And I won't have Lucas here again for a very long time.

_Matt._ I wouldn't.

_Dolly._ [_Seated beside him._] Dad, please put away that paper. You're going over to Aldershot to-morrow to try to get Lucas exchanged?

_Matt._ I'll try.

_Dolly._ Where can you get him sent?

_Matt._ Gibraltar--India--South Africa--according as an appointment happens to be vacant.

_Dolly._ The further the better, and the longer.

PETERS _appears at door._

_Dolly._ Well, Peters, have you made Mrs. Sturgess comfortable?

_Peters._ I'm trying to, ma'am.

_Dolly._ Is she in bed yet?

_Peters._ No, ma'am.

_Dolly._ Not in bed!

_Peters._ No, ma'am, but she seems rather quieter.

_Dolly._ She let you undress her, I suppose?

_Peters._ I'm just going to, ma'am. She says her brain is still throbbing.

_Dolly._ Throbbing!

_Peters._ And could you lend her your hop-pillow?

_Dolly._ You'll find it in my wardrobe.

_Peters._ Yes, ma'am.

_Dolly._ Peters, pat up the hop-pillow for her, and insist on undressing her----

_Peters._ Yes, ma'am. [_Going._

_Dolly._ Don't leave her till you've seen her comfortably in bed.

_Peters._ No, ma'am.

[_Exit. A gust of wind and a little rattle of hail on the conservatory window._

_Matt._ Whew! The New Year means business!

_Dolly._ And so do I, as Lucas will find out.

_Matt._ He is finding it out, on that heath!

_Dolly._ Yes! [_With a little laugh._] Ha! ha! [_A louder gust and rattle of hail._] Listen! Listen! Ha! And he might have been here playing a comfortable rubber by the fire--if he'd simply behaved himself!

_Matt._ If he'd "simply behaved" himself! What we all miss through not "simply behaving" ourselves.

[_Another gust._

_Dolly._ [_Laughs._] Ah! He's catching it! I shall insist on Renie driving out with me to-morrow afternoon.

_Matt._ Yes.

_Dolly._ Then she can't meet Lucas. That will be another sell for him--[_Another furious gust and rattle._] Listen! Ha! ha! I wonder how far Lucas has got!

[_A noise of something being knocked over in the conservatory, which is lighted._

_Matt._ [_Goes to the conservatory door, looks in; is startled._] Hillo! hillo! What?!

LUCAS _enters from the upper conservatory door in riding-clothes of first Act._

_Dolly._ [_Enraged._] Lucas! [_More enraged._] Lucas! How dare you?!

_Lucas._ It's all right--don't make a fuss!

_Dolly._ [_Furious._] Why aren't you on the way to Aldershot?

_Lucas._ I didn't like the look of the weather! I didn't like the look of it at all! So I got them to give me a shake-down at the Red Lion----

_Dolly._ [_Indignantly._] Shake-down at the Red Lion!

_Lucas._ Yes, on their sofa! You needn't look so black! I asked you first, to let me have a shake-down here--on that sofa----

_Dolly._ But why have you come back here?

_Lucas._ Well, I must have dropped those cigars uncle Matt gave me. I put them carefully in my side pocket, and when I got down to the Red Lion, lo and behold, they weren't there!

_Dolly._ You could have got a cigar at the Red Lion----

_Lucas._ [_Turns to_ MATT _for sympathy._] I could have got a cigar at the Red Lion! [_To_ DOLLY.] No, thank you! So I thought I'd just stroll up here in the hope----

_Dolly._ In the hope of seeing Mrs. Sturgess! But she's safely in bed this time, and there's no possible chance of your seeing her.

_Lucas._ In the hope of getting Harry to give me a decent smoke. Well, I came into the Hall and not wishing to rile you by my hated presence--I slipped into the conservatory----

_Enter_ HARRY.

_Harry._ [_Surprised at the riding-clothes._] Hillo, Lu, going back to Aldershot to-night?

_Lucas._ No, not unless the weather takes a turn. No, Dolly said that as the spare room was occupied, would I mind getting a shake-down at the Red Lion. So I did, and as I've got nothing to smoke, may I cadge a cigar?

_Harry._ Yes, old fellow. [_Taking out cigar-case._

_Dolly._ [_Intercepting._] You said I should take charge of your cigars, in case you should be tempted to smoke more than two a day----

_Harry._ By Jove, I forgot all about two per diem--I've been smoking all day. Here, Lu! [_About to throw cigar-case to_ LUCAS.] You'd better take the lot and keep me out of temptation!

_Dolly._ No! I'll take charge of that, please.

[_Takes the cigar-case, looks angrily at_ LUCAS, _goes to writing-desk, puts it in._

PETERS _appears at door._

_Peters._ I beg pardon, ma'am, Mrs. Sturgess----

_Dolly._ What about her?

_Peters._ When I got back with the hop-pillow she wasn't there. I've looked all over the house, and I can't find her anywhere. [_Glancing off into the conservatory._] Oh, there she is!

RENIE _enters, fully dressed from conservatory, very languidly, with handkerchief and smelling-salts._ PETERS _goes off._

_Dolly._ Renie!

[_Looks at_ MATT, _who is inclined to laugh, checks it, shrugs his shoulders and goes over to fire._

_Renie._ My head was racking, I had to rush out--I've been pacing up and down under the veranda, up and down, up and down, up and down--[DOLLY _makes a little grimace of angry incredulity_] it's a little easier now, so I'll take advantage of the lull, and try to get some sleep.

_Dolly._ Yes, I would.

_Renie._ Good-night, dear.

_Dolly._ [_Severely._] Good-night once more.

_Renie._ Good-night, Mr. Telfer. [_Offering hand._

_Harry._ Good-night, I'm awfully sorry----

_Renie._ [_With her weary smile._] Oh, it's only a headache. I can bear it. Thank you for your sympathy. [_Wringing his hand in fervent gratitude._] Good-night, Mr. Barron.

_Matt._ Good-night. I hope we sha'n't have any more little tragedies, eh?

_Renie._ [_Very fervently._] I hope not, oh, I hope not! [_To_ LUCAS _very casually and distantly._] Good-night, Captain Wentworth.

_Lucas._ [_Same tone._] Good-night, Mrs. Sturgess.

[_Exit_ RENIE. PETERS _is seen to join her in the hall. A little pause._

_Lucas._ Well, I'll be toddling back to the Red Lion. Good-night, Dolly. [DOLLY _looks at him, furious, turns away._ HARRY _looks a little surprised._] Good-night, Harry.

_Harry_. Good-night, Lu. Seems a pity for you to turn out on a night like this. Dolly, can't we give him a shake-down----?

_Dolly._ No!

[HARRY _shows surprise at her tone. A little pause of embarrassment._

_Lucas._ Good-night, Uncle Matt.

_Matt._ [_Comes up to him, in a low voice._] Cut it, my dear lad. Cut it! That's understood?

_Lucas._ Yes, of course. Well, good-night, Dolly, once more. [_She doesn't reply._] Oh well, if you're going on the rampage--[_Goes off muttering._] Infernal nuisance--night like this---- [_Exit._

_Harry._ Is anything the matter?

_Dolly._ Lucas has offended me very much. I don't wish to speak of it.

_The_ PROFESSOR _enters at back._

_Matt._ Well, who was the victor?

_Harry._ The Professor won all four games.

_Prof._ I ascribe the increased accuracy of my stroke at billiards to my increased nerve force, now I have made Pableine my staple article of diet in place of meat.

_Matt._ Flies to the gray matter, eh?

_Prof._ Instantaneously.

_Matt._ Good stuff!

_Prof._ I hope you'll try it. Shall I send a tin to your room?

_Matt._ Will you? That will be kind!

CRIDDLE _appears at door._

_Criddle._ I've put the spirits in the hall, sir.

_Harry._ You can take them away, Criddle. In the future we shall not require spirits at night, only soda water and tea.

_Criddle._ Yes, sir. [_Exit._

_Dolly._ [_Who has been sitting wearily on sofa, rises._] Well, I'm going to bed.

_Harry._ You forget, dear.

_Dolly._ What? [HARRY _taps the writing-desk._] Oh, my dear Harry, we won't go into them to-night.

_Harry._ Yes, my dear, if you please. [_Very firmly._ DOLLY _makes an impatient gesture and pouts._] Please don't look like that. If I'm to help you in paying off these bills, it must be to-night, or not at all.

_Dolly._ Oh, very well, but---- [_Sits down wearily._

_Prof._ [_Taking out watch._] Five minutes past my usual hour.

_Dolly._ Renie has one of her bad headaches, so I've put her in the spare room.

_Prof._ Thank you. I'm afraid she's a little wilful. I can never get her to see that life can yield us no real satisfaction unless we regulate all our actions to the most minute point. Good-night.

_Dolly._ Good-night. [_Shaking hands._

_Prof._ Good-night, Telfer.

_Harry._ Good-night. [_Shaking hands._

_Matt._ Good-night, Harry.

_Harry._ Good-night, Dad. [_Shaking hands._

_Matt._ [_To_ DOLLY.] Night-night, dear.

_Dolly._ Night-night, Dad. [_Kissing him._

_Prof._ [_Has been waiting at door._] I might perhaps show you the precise way of mixing the Pableine.

_Matt._ That would be kind! What's the dose?

_Prof._ Two teaspoonfuls. On certain occasions I have taken as much as four tablespoonfuls.

_Matt._ Wasn't that rather--going it?

_Prof._ No. It's quite tasteless, except for a very slight beany flavor.

_Matt._ Sounds just the thing for a New Year's drink, to brace up good resolutions. Come along! I'll have a regular night-cap of it.

[_Exeunt_ MATT _and_ PROFESSOR.

_Harry._ Now we can have our cosy half hour.

_Dolly._ Ye-es. I've had an awful evening with Lucas. Don't you think----?

_Harry._ No, my darling. You put it off after tea----

_Dolly._ But our heads will be so much clearer in the morning----

_Harry._ [_Very solemnly and severely._] My darling, remember what Pilcher said about procrastination. And remember our resolutions last night. If we break them on the first night of the year, where shall we be on the thirty-first of December?

_Dolly._ I'm horribly fagged.

_Harry._ Conquer it! Think how delightful it will be to put your head on the pillow to-night, without a single anxiety, without a single thought----

_Dolly._ Except my gratitude to you!

_Harry._ Come, dear, no time like the present!

_Dolly._ [_Jumps up very briskly._] No time like the present! [_Looking at him with great admiration._] Oh, Harry, what a dear, kind, good husband you've always been to me!

_Harry._ Have I, my darling? [_Modestly._] I've done my best----

_Dolly._ How I must have tried you!

_Harry._ No, dear--at least a little sometimes.

_Dolly._ When I think what patience you've had with me, and never reproached me----

_Harry._ Well, not often. We've had our little tiffs--That day at Goodwood--eh?

_Dolly._ Don't speak of it! I was to blame----

_Harry._ No, dear, I can't let you accuse yourself. I was quite in the wrong.

_Dolly._ No, dear, it was my fault entirely!

_Harry._ Well, we won't quarrel about that. Now these bills----

_Dolly._ And what good pals we've been!

_Harry._ And always shall be. [_Kissing her._

_Dolly._ [_Hugging him._] Oh, you dear!

_Harry._ Now, business, business!

_Dolly._ [_Going up to writing-desk._] What a lucky woman I am!

_Harry._ [_Seated at table._] Bring them all.

_Dolly._ [_Has opened desk and taken up some bills--she looks round dubiously at_ HARRY.] What a splendid thing it must be to be a husband and have it in your power to make your wife _adore_ you, by simply paying a few bills.

_Harry._ Yes--bring them all. [_She comes down with a bundle of about fifteen, hands them to him._] Is this all?

_Dolly._ All, of any importance.

_Harry._ I want to see them all.

_Dolly._ So you shall, but we'll go through these first, because [_lamely_] if you want to ask any questions we can settle them on the spot, can't we?

_Harry._ [_Reading from the bill._] Maison Recamier, Court and artistic millinery. By Jove! [_Looks up._

_Dolly._ What!

_Harry._ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine--nine hats!

_Dolly._ Different kinds of hats.

_Harry._ Yedda straw hat, four guineas, ostrich feather ruffle, twelve pounds ten----

_Dolly._ That was the one--you remember--when I came into the room you said, "Stay there! Just as you are! I must kiss you!"

_Harry._ Yes, but twelve pounds ten--Moss green chip hat, four, fourteen, six. Heliotrope velvet toque----

_Dolly._ That's the dear little toque you admire so much!

_Harry._ Do I? Six guineas! Dear little toque! Hat in white Tegal with plumes of Nattier Bleu--fifteen guineas--Fifteen guineas?!

_Dolly._ With plumes! Of Nattier Bleu!

_Harry._ But fifteen guineas!

_Dolly._ Oh, the woman's a fearful swindler! But what are you to do with such people?

_Harry._ [_With bill._] Total, sixty-four, seven, six. And I get my one silk topper a year, at a guinea, and three and six for doing it up. Total for me, one, four, six. Total for you----

_Dolly._ My dear Harry, don't make absurd comparisons!

_Harry._ [_Takes another bill._] John Spearman, artistic gown maker, ball gowns, reception gowns, race gowns--Good heavens!

_Dolly._ What's the matter?

_Harry._ Total, five hundred and fifty-six pounds--that can't be right!

_Dolly._ [_Frightened._] No, it can't be! Add it up!

_Harry._ [_Reading._] Tea gown of chiffon taffeta--

_Dolly._ The one I took to Folkestone, you remember?

[_With a little attempt at a kiss._

_Harry._ [_Gently repulsing her._] No, I don't. [_She puts her arms round his neck; he gently pushes her aside._] Business first, please. [_Reads._] Gown of white cloth with Postillion coat of Rose du Barri silk, motifs of silver, forty-five guineas----

_Dolly._ You won't grumble at that, for when I first put it on, you stood and looked at me and said, "I want to know how it is, Doll, that the moment a dress gets on to your shoulders, it seems to brisk up, and be as cocky and proud of itself----"

[_Again attempting to embrace him._

_Harry._ [_Again repulsing her._] Yes, well now I do know! Jolly proud and cocky your dresses ought to feel at this price! [_Reads._] "Evening cloak of strawberry satin charmeuse, trimmed silk passementerie, motifs and fringed stoles of dull gold embroidery, thirty-five guineas." What's a motif?

_Dolly._ It's a trimming--a lot of little touches--a sort of--a--a--a--[_making a little descriptive gesture_] a suggestion--a motif----

_Harry._ And Mr. John Spearman's motif is that I should pay him five hundred and fifty-six pounds. Well, I don't like Mr. John Spearman's motifs, and I'm not going to fall in with them. [_Puts the bill on the table rather angrily, takes up another, reads._] "Artistic lingerie!" I wonder why all these people call themselves artists! "Underwear of daintiness and distinction."

_Dolly._ Well, you've always praised----

_Harry._ Yes. In future, I'm going to be very careful what articles of your dress I praise. "Three pairs of blue silk garters, forty-five shillings." [_She has settled herself in the armchair, looking a little sulky and obstinate, leaning back and pettishly swinging one leg over the other._] What have you got to say to that?

_Dolly._ Garters are necessary.

_Harry._ Yes, but why three? And why blue silk? Why don't you speak?

_Dolly._ The garters can speak for themselves!

_Harry._ Very well. Garters that can speak for themselves can pay for themselves! [_Dashes the bill on the table, takes up another. Reading._] Three bottles coeur de Janette--three bottles Souffle de Marguerite--fifteen pounds for scent--and I have to smoke sixpenny cigars! And sometimes only fourpenny!

_Dolly._ Well, if you will smoke those horrid strong things you can't wonder I have to disinfect the house for you.

_Harry._ Disinfect the house _for_ me! You'll very soon disinfect the house _of_ me! [_Glances through the remaining bills, groans, puts them on the table, and walks about in despair._ DOLLY _rises and is going off._] Where are you going?

_Dolly._ To bed.

_Harry._ [_Stopping her._] No! Now we've begun, we'll go through to the bitter end, if you please. I want you to explain----

_Dolly._ My dear Harry, it will be quite useless for me to try to explain in your present state----

_Harry._ [_Getting furious._] In my present state----

_Dolly._ Dancing about the room and shouting!----

_Harry._ I'm not shouting!

_Dolly._ You're not shouting?!

_Harry._ No, and if I am, isn't it enough to make a man shout when his wife----

MATT _appears at the door in his dressing-gown and slippers._

_Matt._ Excuse my interrupting. But you know my room is just above this, and if you could manage to pitch your voices in rather a softer key----

_Harry._ By Jove, I'd forgotten! We were getting a little noisy. I'm awfully sorry.

_Matt._ Don't mention it! The Professor gave me rather a stiff go of his Pableine, and I fancy it hasn't agreed with me [_tapping his chest_] for I can't get a wink of sleep. Is there a spoonful of whiskey about?

_Harry._ On the sideboard in the dining-room.

_Matt._ Thankee. [_Tapping his chest._] Harry, when you get over fifty, don't change your nightcap, or any of your other bad habits.

_Harry._ I won't. Now, Dolly----

_Matt._ [_Anxiously._] You won't perhaps be very long now?

_Dolly._ No, we'd nearly finished----

_Matt._ Nothing serious, I hope?

_Dolly._ Harry doesn't approve of my using scent.

_Harry._ Not in pailfuls. Certainly not.

_Dolly._ I had three small bottles----

_Matt._ Montaigne says that the sweetest perfume a woman can have, is to have none at all. [_Exit._

_Harry._ Now, my darling, we shall best arrive at an understanding if we avoid all temper, and discuss it in a calm, business-like way.

_Dolly._ [_A little frightened._] Ye-es----

_Harry._ Very well then, bring up your chair, and let us go into it, figure by figure, item by item, and see how we stand.

_Dolly._ Ye-es. [_Bringing a chair a little way._] Harry, you aren't going to be as business-like as all that?

_Harry._ As all what?

_Dolly._ I can't discuss it while you keep me at a distance! [_Suddenly rushes at him, seats herself on his knee, puts his arm round her waist, kisses him._] There! now I feel I can discuss it thoroughly.

_Harry._ Very well [_kisses her_], so long as we do discuss it thoroughly.

_Dolly._ I began to get quite frightened of you, Mr. Jobling.

_Harry._ Jobling?

_Dolly._ The man Mr. Pilcher had to get a money-box for, because he swore at his wife!

_Harry._ Oh, yes.

_Dolly._ You got so angry--and shouted----

_Harry._ Well, there was no reason for that, especially as getting out of temper is _the_ one thing I'm quite resolved to conquer this New Year----

_Dolly._ [_Kissing him._] Don't forget that!

_Harry._ [_Kisses her._] Now, business, business! [_Takes up a bill._] What have we here? Carchet, gantier et bonnetier, artiste--Hillo, here's another artist! In stockings this time. [_Suddenly._] I say!

_Dolly._ [_Frightened._] Eh?

_Harry._ [_Points to an item in bill._] Come now, Dolly--this is really too bad--this really is too bad!

_Dolly._ [_Frightened._] What?!

[_Getting off his knee._

_Harry._ One dozen pairs best silk hose, with clocks----

_Dolly._ Yes--how much does that come to?

_Harry._ Eleven pounds two----

_Dolly._ It does seem rather a high price, but----

[_Drawing up her dress and showing an inch or two of silk stocking._

_Harry._ You're wearing them about the house?

_Dolly._ I can't go about the house without stockings. And I put them on for your especial benefit. [_He utters a contemptuous exclamation._] They're a lovely quality----

[_Drawing up her dress an inch or two higher._

_Harry._ I daresay. [_Turning away._] I'm not going to admire your stockings, or your ostrich ruffles, or your blue silk garters, or your motifs, or anything that is yours! It's too expensive!

_Dolly._ [_Dress an inch higher, looking down at her stockings._] It's the clocks you have to pay for----

_Harry._ I beg your pardon, it's the clocks I haven't got to pay for! And don't mean to--if I can help it. Idiotic thing to go and put clocks on stockings--[_muttering_] damned silly idiotic----

_Dolly._ Ah! [_Goes to table, brings the hospital box and puts it in front of him._] Double fine this time.

_Harry._ What for?

_Dolly._ Naughty swear word, and getting out of temper.

_Harry._ Oh well--[_fumbling in his pocket_] I did say d----, but I didn't get out of temper!

_Dolly._ You didn't get out of temper?!?

_Harry._ Not at all. I'm quite calm. [_Sulkily puts a shilling in the box._] There! [_Seats himself at table._] Now we'll go quietly and methodically through the remainder---- [_Taking up a bill, looks at it, exclaims._] Good heavens!

_Dolly._ Good heavens what?

_Harry._ [_In a low exhausted tone with groans._] Good heavens! Good heavens! It's absolutely useless--Good heavens!

_Dolly._ But what is it? [_Coming up, looking over._

_Harry._ [_Points to bill._] Four more hats! Nine on the other bill--four more here. Thirteen hats.

_Dolly._ No, one was a toque.

_Harry._ But can you explain?

_Dolly._ Yes. You said yourself that Madame Recamier was horribly expensive, so I left her and went to Jacquelin's--just to save your pocket----

_Harry._ Never save my pocket again, please.

_Dolly._ Very well, I won't.

_Harry._ No, I daresay you won't, but I shall! I shall draw the strings very tightly in future. Save my pocket! [_He is walking about distractedly._] Save my pocket. [_Groans._

_Dolly._ Now, Harry, it's useless to take it in this way--you knew when you married me I hadn't got the money sense----

_Harry._ [_Groans._] I hadn't got any sense at all!

_Dolly._ Very likely not. But try and have a little now. What have I done? Run a little into debt, solely to please you.

_Harry._ Yes; well, now run out of it, and I shall be better pleased still.

_Dolly._ After all, running into debt is a positive virtue beside the things that some wives do!

_Harry._ Oh, it's a positive virtue, is it?

_Dolly._ A husband is very lucky when his wife spends most of her time running up a few bills. It keeps her out of mischief. I'm sure you ought to feel very glad that I'm a little extravagant!

_Harry._ Oh, I am! I am! I'm delighted!

[_He sits at table, takes out a pencil, hurriedly puts down the amounts of the various bills--she creeps up behind him._

_Dolly._ What are you doing?

_Harry._ I'm totting up to see how lucky I am! Forty-one, one, six---- [_Groans._] Ninety-four---- [_Groans._

_Dolly._ [_Has crept up behind him, puts her arms round his neck._] Now, Harry, will you take my advice----?

_Harry._ No.

_Dolly._ It's past eleven.

[_Trying to take the pencil out of his hand._

_Harry._ [_Disengaging her arms, speaking very sternly._] Will you have the goodness to let me have all your bills, so that I may know what help I shall need from my banker?

_Dolly._ Harry, you don't mean that? Oh, that's absurd with our income!

_Harry._ Will you have the goodness to do as I say, and at once, please? [_He is dotting down figures. She stands still in the middle of the room._] Did you hear me?

[_She bursts into tears. He turns round and shows symptoms of relenting towards her, but steels himself and turns to the bills. She bursts into renewed tears. He goes on figuring._

_Dolly._ [_Piteously._] Harry! Harry! [_Goes up to him and plucks his sleeve._] Harry!

_Harry._ Well?

[_He turns and looks at her, is about to yield, but resists, turns away from her, settles resolutely to his figures._

_Dolly._ And on the first night of the New Year, too! Just as we were going to be so happy! Harry! [_Holds out her arms appealingly._] Harry! [HARRY _suddenly turns round and clasps her._] How could you be so unkind to me?

_Harry._ Was I? I didn't mean to be. Now! Dry your tears, and help me reckon this up----

_Dolly._ Ye-es.

_Harry._ But first of all let me have the remainder of the bills----

_Dolly._ Yes.

_Harry._ At once, my darling--it's getting late.

_Dolly._ Yes. [_Goes up to desk._] You won't reproach me?

_Harry._ Of course I won't.

_Dolly._ I can bear anything except your reproaches. Promise you won't reproach me.

_Harry._ I won't, unless----

_Dolly._ Unless what?

_Harry._ It's something too awful.

_Dolly._ Oh, it isn't. Not at all. Not at all. [_Goes up to the desk, brings down about ten more bills with great affected cheerfulness._] There! You see, it's nothing.

_Harry._ [_Hastily looking at the totals._] Nothing? You call these nothing!!?

_Dolly._ Nothing to speak about--nothing awful!

_Harry._ Good heavens! How any woman with the least care for her husband, or her home---- [_looking at one total after another_] how any woman with the least self-respect---- [DOLLY _goes to him, puts her arms round him, tries to embrace--he repulses her._] No, please. I've had enough of that old dodge.

_Dolly._ Dodge!

_Harry._ I remember that last two hundred pounds and how you sweedled me out of it!

_Dolly._ Sweedled?

_Harry._ Yes! Sweedled!

_Dolly._ There's no such word!

_Harry._ No, but there's the thing! As most husbands know. [_Referring to one bill after another, picking out items._] Lace coat, hand-made! En-tout-cas, studded cabochons of lapis lazuli--studded cabochons--studded cabochons!

_Dolly._ [_Has quietly seated herself, and is looking at the ceiling._] Couldn't you manage to pitch your voice in rather a softer key?

_Harry._ [_Comes angrily down to her, bills in hand, speaks in a whisper, very rapidly and fiercely._] Yes! And I say that a woman who goes and runs up bills like these, [_dashing the back of one hand against the bills in the other_] while her husband is smoking threepenny cigars, will very soon bring herself and him to one of those new palatial workhouses where, thank heaven, the cuisine and appointments are now organized with a view of providing persons of your tastes with every luxury at the ratepayers' expense. [_Returns angrily to the bills, turns them over._] Irish lace bolero! [_Turns to another._] Fur motor coat, fifty-five guineas----

_Dolly._ [_Calmly gazing at the ceiling._] You told me to look as smart as Mrs. Colefield.

_Harry._ Not at that price! If I'd known what that motor tour would cost by Jove! I'd----

_Dolly._ You're getting noisy again. You'll wake my father.

_Harry._ He ought to be waked! He ought to know what his daughter is saddling me with.

_Dolly._ Very well, if you don't care how shabby I look----

_Harry._ Shabby! [_Referring to bills._] Lace demi-toilette! Point de Venise lace Directoire coat! Shabby?

_Dolly._ My dear Harry, do you suppose we shall ever agree as to what constitutes shabbiness?

_Harry._ No, I'm hanged if we ever shall!

_Dolly._ Then suppose we drop the subject. For the future I shall endeavor to please you entirely.

_Harry._ Oh, you will?

_Dolly._ By dressing so that you'll be ashamed to be seen in the same street with me. I shall make myself a perfect fright--a perfect dowdy--a perfect draggletail!

_Harry._ Then I shall not be seen in the same street with you.

_Dolly._ You won't?

_Harry._ No, my dear. Make no mistake about that!

_Dolly._ You'll be seen with somebody else, perhaps?

_Harry._ Very likely.

_Dolly._ Have you met Miss Smithson again?

_Harry._ Not since the last time.

_Dolly._ Have you seen her since we were at Folkestone?

_Harry._ What's that to do with your bills?

_Dolly._ A great deal. That night at dinner she told you her dress allowance was a hundred and twenty a year, and you said you wished she'd give me a few lessons in economy.

_Harry._ I did not.

_Dolly._ Pardon me, you did!

_Harry._ Pardon me, I did not. I said she might give _some_ women a lesson in economy.

_Dolly._ You did not! I heard every word of your conversation, and you distinctly asked her to give me, your wife, a few lessons in economy.

_Harry._ I'll swear I didn't!

_Dolly._ Ask my father! He was there.

_Harry._ Very well! I'll ask him the first thing in the morning.

_Dolly._ No, to-night! You've accused me of deliberately saying what isn't true, and I----

_Harry._ I have not!

_Dolly._ Yes, you have. And I insist on having it cleared up to-night! I don't suppose he's asleep! Fetch him down!

_Harry._ Very well! I will fetch him down! [_Exit._

_Dolly._ [_Paces furiously up and down._] Me! Lessons in economy! Lessons in economy! Me! Lessons in economy!

_Re-enter_ HARRY.

_Harry._ He'll be down in a minute! Meantime, [_very angry_] I want to know what any woman in this world wants with two dozen cache corsets?

[_Banging his free hand on the bills._

_Dolly._ We'll clear up Miss Smithson first----

_Harry._ No, we will not clear up Miss Smithson----

_Dolly._ Because you can't clear up Miss Smithson----

_Harry._ I can clear up Miss Smithson----

_Dolly._ You cannot clear up Miss Smithson----

MATT _appears at door in dressing-gown, rubbing his eyes and looking very sleepy._

Dad, you remember Miss Smithson----

_Matt._ [_Coming in, very sleepy._] Smithson?

_Dolly._ The girl at the hotel at Folkestone, that Harry paid so much attention to.

_Harry._ I paid no more attention to Miss Smithson than was absolutely necessary. Did I, Mr. Barron?

_Dolly._ Oh! Oh! Dad, you remember----

_Matt._ Not for the moment----

_Dolly._ Not the disgraceful way Harry--there's no other word--carried on!

_Harry._ I did not carry on--Mr. Barron, I appeal to you.

_Dolly._ Dad!

_Matt._ My dear, I certainly did not notice----

_Dolly._ No, he was far too careful to let anyone notice it, except his own wife!

_Harry._ You lay your life when I do carry on my wife will be the last person I shall allow to notice it!

_Dolly._ I daresay! Dad, did you hear that?

_Matt._ Yes. [_Rousing himself a little._] Now, Harry, what about this Miss Smithson?

_Harry._ That's what I want to know!

_Matt._ Who is Miss Smithson?

_Dolly._ Surely you remember that lanky girl----

_Harry._ Miss Smithson is not lanky----

_Dolly._ Not lanky? Not lanky?! You can't have any eyes----!

_Harry._ That's what I've often thought----

_Dolly._ [_Explodes._] Oh! Oh! Dad!

_Matt._ Come, Harry, let's clear this up. [_Suddenly._] Smithson? Oh yes! The girl who sat on your left at your dinner party----

_Dolly._ That's the one!

_Matt._ I should call her a trifle lanky, Harry.

_Dolly._ A trifle? Well, never mind! You remember that dinner party----

_Matt._ [_Cautiously._] Ye-es.

_Dolly._ You remember how she waited for a lull in the talk, and then she said with that silly, simpering, appealing look----

_Harry._ Miss Smithson's look is not silly or simpering.

_Dolly._ Well, it's appealing, isn't it?

_Harry._ [_With a little chuckle._] Oh, yes, it's appealing.

_Dolly._ [_Enraged._] Oh! Dad!

_Matt._ [_Quiets her._] Shush!--What did she say?

_Dolly._ She said with a very marked glance at me, "My dress allowance is a hundred and twenty a year, and I don't understand how any reasonable woman can wish for more!" What do you think of that?

_Matt._ Well, if she did say that, and if she glanced at you, it----

_Dolly._ Yes?

_Matt._ It wasn't very nice of her.

_Dolly._ Nice? It was an insult! A direct, intentional, abominable insult, wasn't it?

_Matt._ Yes, yes, decidedly, under the circumstances----

_Dolly._ And Harry ought to have resented it?

_Matt._ At his own dinner table he couldn't, could he?

_Dolly._ Yes! At least, if he couldn't resent it, he ought to have _shown_ that he resented it. Instead of that, he actually asked her to give me a few lessons in economy!

_Harry._ I did not!

_Dolly._ Pardon me, you did! Me! his wife! Lessons in economy!

_Harry._ And a thundering good thing if she had given you a few before you ran up these bills!

[_Dashes his hand on to the bills._

_Dolly._ There! You hear?!

_Matt._ Come, Harry, you oughtn't to have asked another woman to give your wife lessons in economy.

_Harry._ I didn't!

_Dolly._ Dad! You were there----

_Matt._ Yes, but I don't quite remember----

_Dolly._ You don't remember?! Surely you can remember a simple thing like that when your own daughter tells you it was so!

_Matt._ Now, Harry, what did you really say to Miss Smithson?

_Harry._ I said she might give _some_ women a lesson in economy.

_Matt._ Not meaning Dolly?

[_Giving him a wink to say "No."_

_Harry._ No-o.

_Dolly._ Then whom did he mean? Lessons in economy? Whom _could_ he mean if he didn't mean me?

_Harry._ Just so!

_Dolly._ Ah! There! You see, he owns it!

_Matt._ No, no, I'm sure he doesn't mean it! Did you, Harry?

[_Winking at_ HARRY.

_Dolly._ Then will he please say what he really does mean?

_Matt._ Now, Harry, what do you really mean?

_Harry._ Well, you remember that night of the dinner party at Folkestone.

_Matt._ [_Cautiously._] Ye-es.

_Harry._ After they'd all gone you and I went into the smoking-room, didn't we?

_Matt._ [_Cautiously._] Ye-es.

_Harry._ And you said, "Doll's in one of her high gales again!"

_Dolly._ High gales?! [_Indignant._] Father! You didn't say that?

_Matt._ No, no, my dear----

_Harry._ Excuse me, those were your exact words. High gales!

_Matt._ I don't remember.

_Dolly._ No, you don't remember anything.

_Harry._ You said, "What on earth was up between her and Miss Smithson at dinner?"

_Dolly._ You see! That proves exactly what I said!

_Harry._ No, by Jove, it proves that your father noticed what a confounded, cussed----

_Dolly._ Go on! Go on! Say it!

_Matt._ Shush! Shush! Well, Harry, what did you say?

_Harry._ Well, not wishing to give Dolly away----

_Dolly._ Ha! ha! Not wishing to give me away!

_Harry._ Not then! But, by Jove, if any decent chap were to come along now----

_Dolly._ [_Exploding._] There! There! [_To_ MATT.] And you sit there and hear my own husband insult me in my own house!

_Matt._ No! No!

_Dolly._ But there you sit! There you sit!

_Matt._ [_Jumps up fiercely._] Now, Harry!

_Harry._ [_Fiercely._] Well, now, Mr. Barron----

_Dolly._ Why don't you defend me? Why don't you demand an apology?

_Matt._ What for?

_Dolly._ For everything! For to-night! For that night at Folkestone!

_Harry._ That night at Folkestone! Why, your father was quite on my side----

_Matt._ What?

_Dolly._ He wasn't; were you, Dad?

_Matt._ No--no.

_Harry._ What? [_Fiercely._] Do you remember exactly what passed between us in the smoking-room, Mr. Barron?

_Matt._ No.

_Harry._ Then I'll tell you----

_Matt._ [_Retreating towards door._] No--no--I don't want to know----

_Harry._ [_Following him up, shouting a little._] You said, "I know what she's like in her high gales! I remember what the little devil was like at home."

_Dolly._ [_Pursuing him up to door._] Father! You didn't say that!

_Matt._ No--no, my darling--quite a mistake--quite a mistake--altogether a mistake.

[_Gets thankfully off at back._

_Dolly._ [_Calls after him._] Then why don't you stay and tell him so!

_Harry._ [_Shouts after_ MATT.] It's not a mistake!

_Dolly._ [_Calls after_ MATT.] It's cowardly of you to leave me here to be insulted.

_Harry._ [_Goes up to door, shouts._] It's not a mistake! You patted me on the back and said, "Poor chap! Poor chap!" You know you did! [_Closes the door, comes fiercely down to_ DOLLY.] It's not a mistake! He could see you had insulted Miss Smithson.

_Dolly._ I had not insulted her! I was far too civil to her, considering that the next evening you took her out on the Leas, when you ought to have been at billiards----

_Harry._ I took her out on the Leas!

_Dolly._ Yes! You weren't in the billiard-room! So where were you? Where were you?

_Harry._ I jolly well don't know, and I--I----

_Dolly._ Say it! Say it!

_Harry._ I damned well don't care!

_Dolly._ Ah!

[_She seizes the box, brings it up to him, puts it irritatingly in front of him; he seizes it, they struggle for it, trying to take it out of each other's hands; she screams, he tries to get it; there is a scuffle round the room; he tries to rub her knuckles; she makes a little feint to bite him; in the struggle the box drops on the floor a little below the table, right._

_Dolly._ Jobling! Jobling! Jobling!

_Harry._ Now, madam, for the last time, have I all your bills?

_Dolly._ Jobling! Jobling! Jobling!

_Harry._ Have I all your bills?

_Dolly._ Jobling! Jobling! Jobling!

_Harry._ Once more, madam, have I all your bills?

_Dolly._ No, you haven't!

_Harry._ Then please hand them over to me this instant, so that I may take proceedings.

_Dolly._ [_Laughing._] Proceedings! Ha! Take your proceedings!

_Harry._ By Jove! I will take proceedings.

_Dolly._ Take them! Take them!

_Harry._ [_Walking about furiously with the bills._] So this is the way the money goes! [_Banging the bills._] While I have to smoke twopenny cigars! And can't get a decent dinner!

_Dolly._ You can't get a decent dinner?

_Harry._ No! Look at those messes last night. They weren't fit for a cook-shop.

_Dolly._ Oh! Oh! Oh! Get a housekeeper! Get a housekeeper!

_Harry._ By Jove! that's what I mean to do!

_Dolly._ Have Miss Smithson! Send for her to-morrow morning! I'll hand her over the keys!

_Harry._ [_Shouting._] And please hand me over the rest of your bills! The rest of your bills, madam!

[DOLLY _marches up to the desk._

MATT _appears at door in dressing-gown._

_Matt._ I can't get a wink of sleep----

[DOLLY _takes out about twenty more bills._

_Harry._ I insist on seeing the whole lot! So there!

_Dolly._ [_Flourishing the bills, strewing them on the floor._] Well there! And there! And there! And there! Now you've got the whole lot! And I hope you're satisfied. I'm going into Renie's room! [_Exit._

_Harry._ I insist on your going through these bills----

[_Following her off. Their voices are heard retreating upstairs_, DOLLY _saying_, "go through the bills! Send for Miss Smithson! Have her here to-morrow morning! Take your proceedings," HARRY _saying_, "I insist on going through the bills to-night! Do you hear, madam, I insist! Will you come down and go through these bills," etc.

_Matt._ [_Listens, as their voices die away. When the voices have ceased, he surveys the scene._] We're making a splendid start for the New Year!

[_Sees the box on the floor, picks it up, carefully places it on table and goes off._

CURTAIN.

(_A year passes between Acts III and IV._)