ACT III

MR. EGREMONT (_discovered nailing up slabs, in order to complete dwelling_). Well, this is a most enjoyable life; that is, it will be enjoyable when I have completed my cottage (_hits finger with hammer, and examines same_), but at present I seem rather hurried. I have had to help the ploughman in order to get the crop in. I have quite ten acres of wheat nicely sown and harrowed. I intend to plant potatoes after the cottage is up, and I must manage to have some turnips; they're always useful for the stock. A good deal of money seems to be going out; it is equally certain that none is coming in. No man can have worked harder either in an old or new country. But the worst of it is (_sits down on round post and considers_), I am not fully convinced that I am working to the best purpose. I may be doing all this for nothing! Miss Polyblock—somehow I'm always thinking of that girl!—implied as much the last time I saw her. By all the saints and angels, here she comes! How gloriously handsome she always looks, and how well her habit becomes her! Strange, what a gulf there seems to be between us!

DULCIE. So you're working away as usual, Mr. Egremont? You certainly are a pattern young man. How hot it must make you this terrible weather?

EGREMONT. I thought everybody worked hard in this country.

DULCIE. That's a popular error, as you'll find out by and by. They work in some ways, but not usually with their hands, except when pioneering or exploring.

EGREMONT. Well, am I not pioneering?

DULCIE (_bursting out laughing_). What! upon three hundred and twenty acres of land! Excuse my rudeness in laughing.

EGREMONT (_rather nettled_). _We_ think it a decent-sized piece of land in England.

DULCIE. Oh, do you, really? I beg your pardon, but father did all the pioneering work here years and years ago. Fought the blacks when he took up the country, and was speared by them when I was a little girl. So there isn't much pioneering left for _you_ to do, is there?

EGREMONT. I wish there was.

DULCIE. Oh, do you? Then why don't you go outside?

EGREMONT. Outside—outside—where's that? I thought I was pretty well outside here; I haven't slept under a roof these two months.

DULCIE (_laughing again_). Oh, indeed, I didn't mean that. Of course you're outside now; I wish you were not. I'm afraid you'll get a dreadful cold, the weather is so changeable; but I mean _real outside country_, beyond the settled districts, in Queensland, Western Australia, Kimberley—anywhere.

EGREMONT. But how far off is that?

DULCIE. Oh, a couple of thousand miles; but it doesn't matter _how far it is_; it's the way to make money, and position, and a name. Here no one can do anything but potter about, live miserably, and—and vegetate.

EGREMONT. But I thought everybody _farmed_ in Australia?

DULCIE. Farmed! farmed! (_with amazement_). Why, _nobody_ does; no _gentleman_ farms, I assure you. But English people never seem to understand things for the first year or two.

EGREMONT (_with air of astonishment_). Oh, then I shall only _begin_ to understand the country in another year? At present I am supposed to be blissfully ignorant of the real meaning of matters Colonial. I may have all my work to undo; is that what _you_ think?

DULCIE. Well, very nearly. It's rude, of course, to say so, but you'd rather be told the truth, wouldn't you? (_He bows._) I've heard young Englishmen say over and over again that if they'd done nothing for the first two years they would have learned a great deal and saved all their money.

EGREMONT. But surely there is nothing so hard to understand about the country after all? Any one can see the sense of these regulations, for instance. (_Produces book, Land Act Amendment._)

DULCIE. Oh, don't show me that horrid book! It's about free selection and all that, and dad says it's done no end of harm. Oh, I wish I could advise you properly!

EGREMONT. If you only would undertake the task! (_Takes her hand and looks at her tenderly._)

DULCIE (_hastily_). Oh, really, I have no time now; I shall be late for lunch as it is. Good-morning.

MR. POLYBLOCK'S DRAWING-ROOM.

MR. POLYBLOCK (_looks at wrong card_). Mr. Stanley—Hubert Stanley—oh, one of the swells that came up with the governor! Show him in.

_Enter MR. EGREMONT, neatly and cleanly attired in bush-fashion—Crimean shirt, moleskin trousers, no coat._

MR. P. (_surprised and irritated_). Hulloa! who the devil are you? Oh, I see, swell out of luck! Want employment or else, perhaps, I wouldn't mind advancing twenty pound till your remittance came out. Is that the game?

EGREMONT (_haughtily_). No, sir; I am perfectly able to pay my way, and trust to be so for the future. We have not met before, but no doubt you will know who I am when I tell you that my name is Cecil Egremont.

MR. P. Eggermont? Eggermont? We've not met afore, as you say; but, by George, I'll meet _you_ some day! You're the chap as took up my main camp. Then what the devil do you want at my private house, eh? Mind, I won't sell you a pound of beef or mutton either, if you want it ever so bad. I ain't to be had that way.

EGREMONT (_proudly_). You're over-hasty in your conclusions, sir. I have no pressing need for butcher's meat. But you are right in surmising that I _do_ want something from you—something of value also.

MR. P. (_much surprised_). Good Gad! (_Aside_—What can he want? Don't want money nor beef; perhaps it's wheat or 'taters. Never knew a free selector yet that didn't want one of 'em.) What is it, man, speak out?

EGREMONT. The fact is, Mr. Polyblock, your daughter; that is, I have long cherished an admiration——

MR. P. (_wrathfully_). Admiration be hanged! You said my daughter—_my_ daughter! God bless my soul and body! You don't mean to say she'd ever say a word to the likes of you?

EGREMONT. I fear, sir, that without the least intention of gaining her affections clandestinely, I have been so imprudent as to receive counsel respecting my course of action in a strange land, which Miss Polyblock was too generous to refuse. This harmless intercourse has ripened into intimacy—into, I may boldly say, mutual affection. As a man of honour I feel it my duty to acquaint you with the fact, and to respectfully demand her hand. I——

MR. P. (_deeply shocked and violently affected_). Stop! not another word! Man of honour! Ha! ha! how the devil _can_ a free selector be a man of honour? So you think my daughter, as has been eddicated equal to the first lady in the land, is to go into a hut, and—and—— (_Breaks into uncontrollable rage._) You—you—robber—murderer—_free selector_! Leave this room—get off my place, or by —— I'll set the dogs on ye! (_Advances threateningly._)

EGREMONT (_slowly receding_). I can afford to smile at your vehemence, to laugh at your threats. There are reasons which prevent me from resenting your ignorant, ungentlemanly conduct.

MR. P. (_in boxing attitude_). Come on, if that's what you want. Put up your 'ands. I may be a member of the Hupper 'Ouse, and not so young as I was, but I can take the conceit out of a chap like you yet. (_Advances with hands up._)

DULCIE (_coming from behind, pulls him by the coat-tail_). Oh, father, father! don't touch him.

MR. P. Let me go, girl!

DULCIE. Oh, Cecil, _Cecil_! why don't you go away? (_Throws her arms round Mr. P. and drags him back; EGREMONT slowly retreating, Mr. POLYBLOCK struggling and menacing him._)

[_Curtain falls._

END OF THIRD ACT