ACT I.

SCENE.--_The Vicarage Garden, according to plan._

TIME.--_Early morning._

(_After the curtain rises_ THORSBY _enters at gate_ L. I. E., _looks at French window, crosses and looks at kitchen window, goes over cautiously to the tree_ R.; _he mounts on the seat and extracts a letter from the cavity in the tree, replacing it with one of his own; he then stands leaning against the tree, while he opens, kisses, and begins to read the letter; while he is doing this_, GANDY _comes out of the house with toast in rack and jam on dish on salver; he catches sight of_ THORSBY; _crosses to top of table_ L.)

GAN. Good morning, Mr. Thorsby!

THOR. (_startled, squashes letter into his pocket_) Eh! Oh, good morning! I was--I--wanted to see Mr. Pillenger.

GAN. Mr. Pillenger ain't much in the 'abit of climbin' trees before breakfast. (_puts jam on table_)

THOR. No, of course not. (_he jumps down_) I thought I saw a bird's nest, (_looks_) I was mistaken; but feeling (BOY _heard whistling the A.M.B._) rather warm after my walk, I fancied it would be cooler under the branches. My object, in fact, was----

GAN. Shady! (_crosses down_ L. _of table_)

THOR. What?

GAN. I was sayin' it's shady under the h'oak. (_puts toast on table_)

THOR. Exactly.

(NEWSBOY _enters at gate, crosses to_ C. _and calls towards kitchen window_.)

BOY. Papiers!

GAN. Late again! (_crosses in front of table_)

BOY. No, I ain't. (_turns and faces_ GANDY)

GAN. Yes, you h'are. (_looks at silver watch_) Four minutes and a half late. (THORSBY _sits_ R. _and reads letter_) Your prospects of a Christmas-box are darkenin' week by week.

BOY. Well, but I say, Gandy! (_crosses down_ C.)

GAN. Mr. Gandy! A leetle more respect might assist your grandmother's next h'application to the coal and blanket fund. Now, is this to-day's "Standard?"

BOY. Yus! (_giving it_)

GAN. Very good. And the other papers?

BOY. "Sportin' Life!" (_gives it_)

THOR. "Sporting Life!" (BOY _sees jam, and works round to top of table_) That's rather an innovation, isn't it?

GAN. (_crosses to_ THORSBY C.) It's for Captain Dorvaston. We deplore it, but we're 'elpless. (_places papers on table_ R. C., _startles_ BOY _and comes towards him_. BOY _backs towards gate. To_ BOY) Go along with you, and, mind me, if there's any more tip-cat down our road, I call at the police station.

BOY. All right. Keep your 'air on. (_goes off, singing the chorus of A.M.B._)

(LUCY _comes out of house with bowl of flowers_.)

LUCY. Good morning, Mr. Thorsby! (C.)

THOR. Good morning! (_rises_)

LUCY. You're an early visitor. (_puts bowl on table_)

THOR. Yes, I--I was----

GAN. (_has crossed and turns at porch_) Bird's nestin'! (_he goes in through porch_)

LUCY. (_they both watch him off_, LUCY _goes up a little and down again_) What does he mean?

THOR. He caught me standing up on that seat. I had just found your letter, (_she hushes him_) and I had to give some explanation.

LUCY. And couldn't you rise to anything better than that? My dear Harry, what an idiot you are.

THOR. You see, I greatly dislike any deviation from the truth.

LUCY. Truth is a luxury very few of us can afford. When you and I are married----

THOR. (_advancing_) Darling! (_rushes to embrace her, she waves him off_)

LUCY. Stay where you are! All the back windows have eyes to them. Muslin curtains don't count. When we are married---- (_crosses_ L.)

THOR. In fact, after to-morrow----

LUCY. Oh, Harry, do shut up a minute. You object to shams, how is a properly organised household to be carried on without 'em? (_sits_ R. _of breakfast table_) Suppose I'm up to my neck in something important--putting finishing touches to a new ball-dress, we'll say--and some female horror calls--mustn't I be out because I happen to be at home? Deviation from the truth! My dear boy, I should deviate for all I was worth. So you got my letter?

THOR. Yes.

LUCY. And your answer?

THOR. I posted it in our usual letter box. (_going to tree_)

LUCY. All right, I'll get it directly. Does it give full directions?

THOR. I think so. (_comes_ C.)

LUCY. Got the special license?

THOR. Yes. (_makes to embrace her, she puts him off and points to windows_)

LUCY. You've arranged with old Bristowe?

THOR. Yes.

LUCY. And we bike over to Ingledene Church--what time? Early of course?

THOR. I said nine.

LUCY. Very well. (_rises_) Now you'd better go. (_he objects_) They'll be coming out to breakfast.

THOR. (_again advancing_) Darling!

LUCY. (_motions him off again_) Back windows! (_crosses up_ C. _to house to see if they have been seen_)

THOR. (_turning towards her_) I was going to say that I can't help regretting the way we are treating Captain Dorvaston.

LUCY. You mind your own business. (_she crosses down_ R. _and leans on rustic table_) Captain Dorvaston is in my department.

THOR. I never fully understood how you came to be engaged. (_crosses to her_)

LUCY. Simple enough. My father was a colonel who did some rather big things on the Indian frontier, and in a dust up with one of the native Princes got himself into rather a tight corner. Jack Dorvaston--he was only a subaltern then--pulled him out of it, and in fact saved his life; so when the governor died a year or two later, he left a strong wish behind that the Captain should marry me.

THOR. I understand.

LUCY. (_crosses round and sits on tree seat_ R.) It was a queer way of showing his gratitude, seeing that I was then a particularly unattractive child, all elbows and knees.

THOR. Lucy!

LUCY. It's all right, don't be nervous; time has softened them down. (_beckons him nearer_) I have a notion that Jack has always funked the thing, but his colonel had given his orders, (_he sits on table_) don't you see? And that was enough for _him_. I don't regard discipline--military or parental--with the same amount of respect. British freedom means the right to make a fool of one's self in one's own way. You're my way, and that's enough for _you_. (_he tries to take her hand, she draws it away_) Back windows!

THOR. I suppose no one guesses that we----?

LUCY. Mean business! No, with the exception possibly of Cook.

THOR. Cook! (_he looks at her in surprise_)

LUCY. Somehow I've a notion she's tumbled to it.

THOR. Would it matter? Would she----?

LUCY. Prattle about it? No, I think she rather likes me--tolerates would be a better word.

THOR. Tolerates? A woman of that class?

LUCY. Cook is a very great personage; she rules the vicarage. Auntie made a show of resistance at first, but Uncle and Jack have been abject slaves from the start.

THOR. Really?

LUCY. Oh yes; when a woman is striking in appearance, evidently has a past history, and can make an omelette, I don't see what's going to stop her.

THOR. What's her history?

LUCY. How should I know? She was recommended to us by the Duchess of Sturton at the time she opened the bazaar--you remember. Local philanthropic?

THOR. Then you've nothing tangible to go on?

LUCY. Not from a masculine standpoint. (_rises_) Cook doesn't give herself away, but, like Achilles, she has one vulnerable point, and in the same locality.

THOR. How is that? (_rising with_ LUCY)

LUCY. She wears the neatest, quietest shoes imaginable, only I happened to notice they have Louis heels. (_he looks in wonder_) That tells you nothing--the inference is too subtle; but it's quite enough for me. (GANDY _appears with butter on tray, he comes right of table_) Make a dignified clerical exit--here comes Gandy.

THOR. (_takes hat and backs to_ C.) I think I won't wait, Miss Lucy. (GANDY _coughs_, THORSBY _turns nervously, and looks at him_) So will you kindly give my message to Mr. Pillenger?

LUCY. Certainly!

THOR. Thank you. (_crosses to gate_ L.) Good morning!

LUCY. Good morning. (_he looks towards_ LUCY--_catches_ GANDY'S _eye and exits through gate_. LUCY _is applauding his exit when_ GANDY _turns and hides her action_. LUCY _sits on garden chair and opens the "Standard"_) Gandy! what is there for breakfast? (GANDY _has crossed to top of table and placed butter on it_)

GAN. H'eggs!

LUCY. Poached?

GAN. Biled.

LUCY. Auntie said poached.

GAN. Cook said biled.

LUCY. Oh! There's some fish, isn't there?

GAN. Kidneys.

LUCY. But Auntie particularly mentioned fish.

GAN. Cook thought kidneys would be _preferable_.

LUCY. Oh! (_she reads paper_)

(MR. PILLENGER _comes out_ C. _looking at his watch_.)

PIL. Ah, Lucy! breakfast not ready? (LUCY _rises and crosses to_ C.)

LUCY. Breakfast is late--as usual.

PIL. As usual? What do you mean by as usual?

LUCY. I mean--as usual. (_returns to seat_)

PIL. Cook is most punctual. If some trivial hitch has occurred this morning, I daresay a perfectly reasonable explanation will be forthcoming. (_takes "Sporting Life" off table_)

GAN. Kidneys was late! (_at table_)

PIL. Kidneys was late! (_to_ LUCY)--er--were late. I knew it! That man Skeggs' meat--which I more than suspect of being colonial--is never delivered in time. (_to_ GANDY) Explain to Cook that the delay is of no consequence, and beg her not to hurry.

GAN. (_speaking as he goes_) She won't hurry! (_he goes into the house_; PIL. _and_ LUCY _look at each other_; PIL. _then opens paper and sees his mistake_.)

PIL. (_takes "Standard" from_ LUCY) If I shall not be depriving you of the "Standard"----?

LUCY. Not at all! (_she picks up "Sporting Life"_) I'll have a look at Jack's "Sporting Life."

PIL. (_crossing to table, turn to her_) By the way, during the--I trust--brief interval of time that must elapse before your marriage with Captain Dorvaston, you might hint to him that the newspaper he favours is at variance with the general tone of a pious household.

LUCY. I'll mention it.

PIL. I am obliged to you. (_crosses and sits_ L.)

(MISS PILLENGER _comes out through French window_.)

MISS P. Good morning, Audley!

PIL. Good morning. (LUCY _rises, crosses and kisses_ MISS PILLENGER _and returns_ R.)

MISS P. Well, Lucy!

LUCY. Good morning, Auntie.

MISS P. Is breakfast not ready? (_looking at table through glasses_)

PIL. No, it isn't ready--not quite ready. I have no doubt it's _nearly_ ready.

MISS P. I shall really have to speak sharply to Cook. (_moves towards kitchen_)

PIL. I see no necessity for any--er--drastic step of that description. The delay is due to that man Skeggs.

MISS P. Skeggs? (_returns to_ C.)

PIL. Skeggs. It is also traceable, in a minor degree to yourself--your injudicious selection of kidneys.

MISS P. Kidneys?

PIL. Yes; you are aware of my preference for fish, and therefore I consider the substitution of kidneys----

MISS P. I ordered fish--and I did _not_ order kidneys. Cook is entirely responsible for the change, and I shall certainly---- (_moves towards kitchen again_)

PIL. Hannah! Hannah! If Cook understood your order, which is by no means obvious (MISS PILLENGER _crosses round and sits_ L.), she was doubtless influenced by--er--by Lucy's partiality for kidneys.

LUCY. I never touch them.

PIL. Well, she couldn't know that. Really I think this discussion has been sufficiently prolonged.

(GANDY _comes out with breakfast. He places large salver with tea in tea-pot, dish of kidneys, and eggs in stand on chair at top_ R. _of table_. MR. PILLENGER _hands him the "Standard," which he puts on back of chair. He then places eggs and dish of kidneys on table, takes tea-pot and tray up, and crosses to_ L. _to place it in position; he then removes cover of kidney dish, and slowly exits through porch_.)

PIL. Here is the breakfast. Let us endeavor to approach it in a seemly spirit. Where is Captain Dorvaston? (LUCY _crosses to_ L.) Upon my word, Lucy, considering the ties that will unite you, I hope _very_ shortly, to Captain Dorvaston, I think he might conform to my rules.

LUCY. Jack was late last night. (_sits and takes napkin out of ring_)

PIL. He _was_. Creaking boots after midnight are a serious infliction.

LUCY. I'll call up to him if you like.

PIL. I should be indebted. (LUCY _rises and goes up_ C. MR. PILLENGER _takes napkin out of ring and puts it inside his collar_)

LUCY. (_goes up stage_) Jack! Jack! (CAPTAIN DORVASTON _opens window, he is in his shirt sleeves_)

DOR. Hulloa!

LUCY. Breakfast!

DOR. What say, little woman?

LUCY. Breakfast! Kidneys! Devilled! (MR. PILLENGER, MISS PILLENGER _and_ GANDY _all start_)

PIL. Tut! tut! Broiled--broiled!

DOR. Right-O! down in a minute! (_he shuts the window._ LUCY _returns to the table_)

MISS P. What are your plans for to-day, Audley? (MISS PILLENGER _has undone napkin and is pouring out tea_)

PIL. I expect to be rather busy.

LUCY. It's sermon day, isn't it? (_hands toast to_ MR. PILLENGER, _and takes an egg and toast herself_)

PIL. It _is_. So I trust your piano practice will be reduced to a minimum.

LUCY. I'm going down to the village. I suppose you'll have broken the back of it by lunch time.

PIL. Possibly--probably!

(DORVASTON _comes out from French window; takes_ LUCY'S _hand between both his caressingly_.)

DOR. 'Fraid I'm a bit late. How are you, sir? (_bowing to_ MR. PILLENGER _and_ MISS PILLENGER)

PIL. In my ordinary health, I am obliged to you.

DOR. You look astonishing fit. (_sits_) Now d'you know, I feel as jumpy as a flea.

MISS P. Captain Dorvaston!

DOR. Fact, ma'am! (_takes his napkin out of ring_) How are _you_ this morning?

MISS P. Without being actually indisposed, I feel---- (_hands tea to_ LUCY)

DOR. Chippy--I know; same here. Where are those kidneys you were shouting about, Lucy? (MR. PILLENGER _hands them_) Thanks! (MR. PILLENGER _passes kidneys to_ DORVASTON, _which he serves himself_)

LUCY. You kept it up again last night, Jack?

DOR. I had a gentle flutter at the Plough and Rainbow. There was a little pool, so of course I went in.

MISS P. I hope you changed your things, (DORVASTON _and_ LUCY _laugh_) Captain Dorvaston. Damp clothing is so very dangerous.

LUCY. Pool is a kind of billiards, Auntie.

MISS P. Oh, I misunderstood! Your tea, Captain Dorvaston. (_she hands tea to_ DORVASTON)

DOR. Thank you, ma'am. (PILLENGER _hands salt, etc._)

LUCY. How did you do over it? (_hands toast to_ DORVASTON)

DOR. So so. I took a few lives at the finish.

MISS P. Dear me! It sounds rather a bloodthirsty pastime.

DOR. There was a man there named Crayll--nailing good player! Potted 'em just as he liked. He seemed to be a thirsty little beggar. I should say he took a bit of knowing.

LUCY. Who's that, Jack?

DOR. This fellah Crayll. He's stopping at the Plough and Thingummy--we're going to try a horse together.

LUCY. To-day?

DOR. Yes. Said he'd call round some time this morning. (_pause_)

PIL. Hannah, we must dine earlier this evening, in view of the Penny Reading.

DOR. Another of those festive gatherings! Hope you don't expect me to tip 'em anything this time?

PIL. No, Captain Dorvaston; your contribution on the last occasion may have been well intentioned--I judge no man, and will hope so----

DOR. Thought it was just the thing to wake 'em up after that Shakespearian bit of yours--The Ball of Worsted.

PIL. The Fall of Wolsey!

MISS P. I was not present last time. What did Captain Dorvaston read?

DOR. It was an account of the last American glove fight, don't you know?

MISS P. Oh!

PIL. Described with a wealth of technical detail. (_hands his cup to_ MISS PILLENGER) The whole occurrence was most regrettable. I was observing, Hannah, we shall have to dine earlier----

MISS P. I had some idea of making it a cold meal.

PIL. Cold meal! A most unpleasant suggestion. Cold food, especially in the evening, has a tendency to lie heavy on the stom--er--that is, I see nothing feasible in the notion.

DOR. Oh no, hang it all, ma'am! Cold stuff ain't the kind of thing to do a Penny Reading on.

MISS P. I thought under the circumstances it might be easier for Cook.

PIL. Eh?

DOR. What? (_long pause, the men look at her_)

MISS P. But as you both object----

DOR. Hold on, ma'am!

PIL. One moment, Hannah!

MISS P. I will explain to Cook.

PIL. Hannah! Hannah! You're so hasty.

DOR. Hannah--ma'am--pity to be hasty.

PIL. If you will permit me to explain myself, Captain Dorvaston? I have no wish, Hannah, to add weight to Cook's very arduous duties.

DOR. Hear, hear! (_slaps the table_)

PIL. (_raising his voice_) And therefore it seems to me--er--unmanly to lay stress upon possible digestive difficulties which fortitude and a little pepsin should enable us to face with calmness. Let the meal be a cold one. (LUCY _has folded up napkin again, and taken "Standard" from back of chair, and is reading it_)

DOR. Point of fact, it makes a pleasant change.

MISS P. But, Audley!

PIL. The question is decided. We will not pursue the subject. (_pause_)

DOR. (_to_ LUCY) Anything in the paper?

LUCY. There's something about the Huntworth Divorce case.

PIL. We have no wish to hear any news relating to such a matter.

DOR. But it's an old business, ain't it? When I was at Malta last year, the chaps used to chat about it at mess.

LUCY. Lord Huntworth brought the divorce, didn't he?

PIL. Yes, Lord Huntworth was the petitioner. It was a sad case.

DOR. I know Bob Carruthers.

LUCY. Who's he? (_rises and crosses up to_ DORVASTON--_still reading the paper_)

DOR. The co----

PIL. Tut! tut!

DOR. Bob was an extraordinary good chap!

PIL. How can any individual be described as good who has occupied the position of--er--a co-respondent?

DOR. Bob managed it.

PIL. You seem to ignore poor Lord Huntworth.

DOR. Didn't know Huntworth--did know Bob. He once lent me a monkey when I wanted it badly--lent it when _he_ wanted it badly. Devilish good chap!

PIL. Tut! tut!

DOR. Beg pardon, sir--slipped out.

LUCY. Did you know _Lady_ Huntworth, Jack? (_crosses to_ R. _and sits under tree_)

DOR. No. Heard she was a nice woman.

PIL. Nice?

DOR. So fellahs who met her used to say.

MISS P. But I always understood the suit was undefended.

PIL. Entirely undefended.

DOR. Matrimonial thimblerig is a confusing game to watch.

PIL. Thimblerig?

DOR. Three thimbles, don't you know? Husband--wife--and the other chap. (MR. PILLENGER _looks up_) Well, what I meant to say was, it ain't easy for the looker-on to say which thimble the fault is under. By-the-bye, I saw something in the paper about Lady Huntworth the other day.

PIL. Surely the whole affair is uninteresting and unsavory?

DOR. Noosance to forget a thing! What was the bit you were reading, Lucy?

LUCY. That yesterday the rule was made absolute. What does that mean?

DOR. Only that the time was up. They keep 'em in blinkers for six months after the verdict. (DORVASTON _draws napkin through the ring_) But that wasn't what I read? What the devil was it now?

PIL. Tut! Really! Really! I think we've all finished, haven't we? (GANDY _appears with letters, three of which_ MR. PILLENGER _takes, and two_ MISS PILLENGER) Hannah, you will probably wish to interview Cook. (DORVASTON _rises, takes chair_ R., _sits and begins to load his pipe_)

MISS P. I will see her in your presence. (GANDY _has come back to top of table_) Gandy, will you ask Cook to come to me? I wish to give her my orders.

GAN. H'orders? (DORVASTON _fills pipe and lights it_)

MISS P. Orders.

GAN. I'll name it to her. (_slowly exits through porch_)

PIL. (_opening letter, which he holds during the whole scene with_ COOK) Hannah, I would suggest that whatever you have to say to Cook may be said calmly and without undue severity.

MISS P. (_opening letters which she holds during the whole scene with_ COOK) That should be left to my discretion; a stand must be made somewhere.

(CAROLINE _has come out of kitchen during this; she advances to the table_.)

CAR. You wished to speak to me? (_the men turn and face her_)

MISS P. Yes, Cook. I want to give you the orders for to-day's dinner.

CAR. Certainly! What do you fancy? What would you all like? (_she glances round, both men beam at her_)

MISS P. Before we speak of that I have a word to say with regard to the breakfast.

CAR. To-morrow's breakfast?

MISS P. No, to-day's. I am very much astonished and annoyed.

PIL. Tut, tut!

CAR. What was wrong with the breakfast? When I sent it out it looked all right.

MISS P. Why were my directions disregarded? I ordered the eggs to be poached--you boiled them; I mentioned fried bacon--none came to table; I requested you to procure fish--you gave us kidneys. Now what have you to say?

CAR. I'm afraid I forgot about the eggs? I haven't any other excuse to offer.

PIL. A most reasonable explanation!

DOR. Things do slip one's memory. (MISS PILLENGER _glares at_ DORVASTON)

CAR. I didn't cook any bacon; it had got rather low, and I didn't think the result would please you.

PIL. Impossible to cut rashers from bacon that is--er--practically non-existent.

DOR. Thing no fellah could do! (MISS PILLENGER _glares at him_)

CAR. I remember you did mention fish, but you've had a good deal of fish lately, so I thought I'd try you with kidneys. But if there has been any inconvenience, I'm sorry.

PIL. There has been no inconvenience.

DOR. None at all. (MISS PILLENGER _glares at_ DORVASTON)

PIL. Hannah, I think we may pass (as they say in the House of Commons) to the orders of the day.

DOR. Hear, hear! (PILLENGER _looks at him_)

MISS P. Well, Cook, since you express your regret (DORVASTON _and_ LUCY _laugh_) I will say no more. Now as to this evening, you will be in sole charge of the house, (_both men look up_) as I have given Keziah permission to go to the Penny Reading--so I think we will make it a cold meal, as that will entail less washing up.

CAR. Just as you like.

MISS P. We will begin with salmon.

CAR. (_reflectively_) Salmon? Yes, you might have salmon.

MISS P. Pickled salmon.

CAR. Oh, no, not pickled! (_both men shake their heads_) That would be a pity! I'll make you a mayonnaise.

PIL. Delightful!

DOR. Rippin'!

CAR. I shall want some lettuces. I'll tell Gandy.

MISS P. After that we will have two cold ducklings.

CAR. Ducklings? It's late for ducklings.

PIL. Maturity in poultry is to be deprecated.

DOR. Leathery beasts at this time of the year. (MISS PILLENGER _glares at_ DORVASTON)

MISS P. Then why not a gosling?

CAR. It's early for geese.

DOR. Deuced early!

PIL. Entirely premature.

MISS P. When I mentioned a goose I was thinking of Mr. Pillenger. (DORVASTON _and_ LUCY _laugh_)

PIL. Tut, tut! Hannah!

DOR. Hope, ma'am, when you mentioned a duck, you were thinking of _me_.

MISS P. I fail to understand you. My brother is exceedingly partial to goose.

CAR. There's a ham in cut, so I think we'd better fall back on fowls. It isn't easy to do anything very novel with cold fowls, but if I stuff and glaze them, I've no doubt they'll pass muster.

MISS P. But, Cook, I----

CAR. You like sweets, of course?

MISS P. Certainly, you had better make us----

CAR. Will you leave the sweets to me? I want to try a new kind of fruit salad; it's my first attempt, but you'll find it will be all right--and perhaps I might throw in a shape of jelly--we'll see.

MISS P. But----

CAR. What time will you dine?--at least it isn't dinner--what time will you sup?

MISS P. At seven to-night, instead of half-past.

CAR. Seven! I shall be ready. Is there anything else you wish to say to me?

MISS P. No, Cook; I don't suppose anything will be gained by my saying any more. (_turns away and reads letters_)

CAR. Very good! (_takes kidney dish off table_, MR. PILLENGER _assisting her; she crosses_ C.)

DOR. (_speaking eagerly_) Ah! here's that bit about Lady Huntworth. (CAROLINE _looks round at him in a startled manner_) It's in the Agony column. (_reads_) "Will Lady Huntworth communicate with Messrs. Brampton and Stokes, Capel Court, on a matter of considerable importance?"

PIL. Why should we resume the discussion of that disgraceful woman? (CAROLINE _turns and looks at him_)

MISS P. Why, indeed? (CAROLINE _looks at her_)

DOR. (_to_ LUCY) When we were talking just now, couldn't remember where I'd read that. Hate to forget a thing.

MISS P. Cook! (CAROLINE _stands thinking quietly_) Cook!

CAR. I--beg your pardon!

MISS P. We needn't keep you, if you quite understand about the supper.

CAR. Oh, quite, thanks! (_exit into kitchen_; DORVASTON _rises, looks after her_ U. B.)

MISS P. Don't you think that woman has a very singular manner?

PIL. Singular! No, she is certainly superior--very superior.

MISS P. (_rises, crosses_ C.) She is _so_ superior that she seems above taking my orders.

(GANDY _comes out during this and continues clearing away. He places_ MR. PILLENGER'S _chair up_ B. C. _and_ MISS PILLENGER'S _chair up_ L. _above gate. Folds cloth over tray, and takes it into the kitchen. Then comes back, folds up table and takes it away into house before cue, "This is July."_)

DOR. I wouldn't say that, (_crosses to_ C.), ma'am; she met you half way over the salmon. (_returns to window._ MISS PILLENGER _goes up with dignity and enters house through French window_)

PIL. (_rises, crosses_ C.) Thorsby is late. I expected him to call.

LUCY. He came early this morning, but he wouldn't wait.

PIL. Tut, tut! He knows I wished to see him. I have two christenings at one-thirty, and an interment at three. However, Lucy and--er--Captain Dorvaston (_crosses and brings_ DORVASTON _down_) as you are together for once--I will avail myself of the opportunity to say a few serious words to you both. (DORVASTON _and_ LUCY _look at each other nervously_)

DOR. Peg away, sir! (LUCY _stands near table_ R. DORVASTON _stands centre_)

PIL. I have no wish to appear unduly inquisitive on a subject with which I have merely an indirect concern (_sits_ R. _of table_) but may I enquire if you have fixed the time that will make you both--that will make us all happy? (_puts arm on table and leans back._ LUCY _and_ DORVASTON _again look at each other_) Has a date been arrived at?

LUCY. Not precisely.

DOR. Not to a day or so.

PIL. Have you settled on the week or the month?

DOR. No, we haven't got as far as that. But something was said about the autumn.

LUCY. The late autumn.

PIL. (_has been leaning his arm on the table--now sits up and faces them_) The late autumn! (_sits up_) But last autumn something was said about the early spring; the question was then relegated to the late summer. This is July, and where are we? (_he leans back and is about to rest his arm on table, but_ GANDY _has just removed it, with the result that he loses his balance and comes on his hand_. DORVASTON _goes to his assistance_)

DOR. Allow me, sir!

PIL. Thank you. I was unaware that Gandy had removed the table. But, to resume what I was saying--can you give me any definite information?

DOR. You see, sir, I haven't worried Lucy, because I know girls are apt to be a bit--a bit----

PIL. Well?

DOR. Noosance! I've lost a word. Girls are apt to be a bit----

LUCY. Coy.

DOR. That's it! Thanks, little woman--a bit coy. (_comes to_ PILLENGER)

PIL. Coy! (_rises, comes_ C.) Well, the expression hardly seems to me to convey Lucy's habitual demeanour; but in any case she is of age. (_to_ LUCY) You were twenty-one last week I think?

LUCY. Yes, I was.

PIL. Your small fortune is carefully tied up.

DOR. Quite right, sir, so it ought to be.

PIL. Captain Dorvaston (_patting him on the shoulder_) is in a firm financial position.

DOR. Pretty fair as things go.

PIL. Then why any further delay? Why not August? Nice seaside month. My own thoughts are turning towards Eastbourne.

DOR. I had an offer from a fellah I know to go halves in a shoot this August, (_going to_ LUCY) but I wouldn't let that stand in the way, not for a moment.

LUCY. Thanks, Jack, (_crosses down_ R. _a little_)

PIL. Take my advice, let no trivial obstacle intervene between you. Let there be no postponement or interruption.

DOR. There shan't be, sir. (CAROLINE _comes out from porch_)

PIL. That's well! (_they shake hands_) That's well!

CAR. Gandy! (_both men turn round to her without releasing hands_)

PIL. Do you want anything, Cook? (_crosses up to her_ L.)

DOR. Anything I could do? (_they both go up_, DORVASTON _on her_ R.)

CAR. I wanted Gandy for a second.

PIL. Certainly. He was here just now.

DOR. Saw him a minute ago.

PIL. I'll call him. (_goes_ L.) Gandy!

DOR. Fancy he went this way. (_goes_ R.) Gandy!

PIL. Sorry to detain you! Gandy!

DOR. Noosance having to wait! Gandy!

CAR. Pray don't bother about it; I only wanted him to pick me some parsley.

PIL. No trouble at all. Where _is_ Gandy?

DOR. What's happened to the beggar? Could I--er--take on the job?

PIL. Tut, tut! absurd! How should you know the proper way to--er--pick parsley?

DOR. Never too old to learn, sir. (_to_ CAROLINE) Where should I be likely to drop across it?

CAR. There's a small parsley bed over there (_she points left_)

DOR. Right-O! (_crosses_ L., _kneels_)

CAR. But it's really too bad to trouble you. (_crosses_ C. MR. PILLENGER _goes with_ CAROLINE _on her_ L.)

DOR. Not a bit! To oblige you I'd pick oakum! (_he kneels and picks parsley_)

PIL. I--er--regret--that--er--the absence of Gandy--as to which I shall require some explanation, should have caused you all this inconvenience.

CAR. It doesn't signify. Captain Dorvaston is doing the work very nicely.

DOR. Fact is I've broken out in a new place. Where shall I put the pieces? (_holding up parsley_)

CAR. In this dish. (MR. PILLENGER _takes dish from her, and_ DORVASTON _snatches it from him--puts parsley in it, and holds it out_)

DOR. It's very easy when you get into the swing of it. Will that be enough?

CAR. Plenty, thanks.

DOR. There! (_rises, crosses to hand her bowl_; PILLENGER _trying to get hold of it_)

CAR. I'm much obliged.

DOR. Don't you think I should make a good gardener?

CAR. Capital, I should say. (_crosses to porch_)

PIL. Tut! tut! (_she goes up stage_)

DOR. Cook! Cook! (_she turns round_) If I try for the situation will you give me a character?

CAR. I'm afraid I haven't one to spare! (_he laughs; she returns to the kitchen_)

DOR. (_going up to window, then turns to_ PILLENGER) By George she's a devilish--er----

PIL. Tut! tut! (_up_ L. C.; LUCY _knocks on the table two or three times to draw their attention_)

DOR. Just so, sir; but I mean she _is_--don't you know--isn't she?

PIL. (_crosses down_ L. C.) She is undoubtedly possessed of great refinement for anyone in her present sphere.

DOR. Refinement! (_crosses down_ R. C.)

PIL. We gathered from the Duchess of Sturton that Cook had seen better days. Her Grace is somewhat vague conversationally; but we understood as much as that.

DOR. (_confidentially, he hides_ LUCY _from_ PILLENGER'S _view_) Funny thing a woman like that should be running loose. Odd she hasn't married some fellah.

PIL. It is singular--in fact remarkable. For a certain type of man she would make--I should say--an admirable wife.

DOR. Just the wife for a soldier man!

PIL. Pardon me, I disagree with you. No--she has a quietude, a dignified reserve--that would fit her to preside over the household of a staid medical man--or a barrister in fair practice--who was no longer young--or even--a--a---- (_catches_ DORVASTON'S _eye_) But we're wasting the morning. (_crosses_ L.)

LUCY. Don't say that, uncle. (_they both stare at her_)

PIL. Lucy! (_crosses to top of chair_ R.)

DOR. Hulloa, little woman! Still there?

LUCY. Yes, I'm still here.

DOR. By George, sir, (_crosses and sits on chair facing the others_) weren't we all chatting over something?

PIL. I--er--think I was urging you both--to--er----

LUCY. You were urging us to name the day--and to avoid any kind of trivial interruption. (_the men look at each other_)

PIL. I--believe that is so.

LUCY. And Jack agreed.

DOR. Yes.

LUCY. And I chimed in with the general sentiment. But of course--at the time--it was impossible to foresee the parsley, (_the two men exchange glances--she rises_) I'm going down to the village. I punctured a tire yesterday, and I've got to fetch my bike.

PIL. I must get to work. I'm late as it is. (_crosses_ C. _looking at watch_)

DOR. Make it a ten minutes' sermon, sir, weather's extr'ordinary hot.

PIL. I beg, Captain Dorvaston, you will spare me any such irreverent suggestions; and I trust that if you must sleep in a sacred edifice, you will render your slumber less aggressive. (_moves to French window_)

LUCY. You do snore, Jack--you nearly drowned the second lesson last Sunday.

PIL. (_turning to_ LUCY) _You_ are not blameless. As his future wife, it is your duty--and--er--privilege--to nudge him. For what purpose has Heaven given you elbows? (_he goes into house. Slight pause._ DORVASTON _puts pipe away_. LUCY _crosses up, turns to chair_ R.)

LUCY. Jack!

DOR. Yes, little woman?

LUCY. Do you care for me?

DOR. 'Course I do!

LUCY. How much? (_crosses to chair and kneels on it_)

DOR. How much? (_rises, crosses_ C.) Well, I'm a bad hand at explaining things.

LUCY. For instance, would you give up a big thing for my sake?

DOR. What sort of big thing?

LUCY. An Empire?

DOR. Oh, yes.

LUCY. A peerage?

DOR. Oh, Lord, yes!

LUCY. Would you give up--a dish of parsley?

DOR. (_long puzzled look_) What do you mean? I--don't understand.

LUCY. You're a humbug!

DOR. Sorry you think that.

LUCY. Well, do something to please me.

DOR. Anything I can.

LUCY. Fetch me an orchid, (_he looks surprised_) to wear this evening--there are lots in the orchid house--will you?

DOR. 'Course I will.

LUCY. Thanks. (DORVASTON _crosses up_ R. LUCY _crosses_ L. C., _and_ DORVASTON _crosses down to her_)

DOR. (_places hands upon_ LUCY'S _shoulder and speaking over her shoulder_) Little woman! Ever since the time when your dear old dad first gave us the word of command, I've always had a pretty clear notion where the word duty came in; so when once you've pulled yourself together, and named the day, I mean to pull myself together and do my level damnedest to make you happy. D'you see? (_turns her round_)

LUCY. (_facing him_) Yes, I see. (_puts hand on his shoulder_) I'm quite sure you mean all you say, and it's nice of you to say it, and to mean it. The only thing is, you seem to be entering upon a matrimonial campaign without any transports.

DOR. I don't follow.

LUCY. (_takes him by the lapels of coat_) When I said you were a humbug, I meant there is one person you are always trying to deceive.

DOR. Who's that?

LUCY. Jack Dorvaston! (_he looks bewildered_) Don't you mind what I say; go and fetch my orchid. (_turns him round and pushes him away. He pauses, rubs his head reflectively, and at last strolls off_ R. LUCY _goes over to the tree and sits for a moment in thought. She suddenly remembers the letter in tree, and jumps on seat to get it._ CAROLINE _has come out, bringing with her two pudding basins which she places on the seat under the garden window; she comes down to table_ R. _to take up the newspaper, she catches sight of_ LUCY _who is trying to get the letter out of cavity_)

CAR. (_coming_ C.) Shall I do that?

LUCY. Oh, Cook, is that you? (_turning quickly_) You startled me.

CAR. Did I? I'm sorry.

LUCY. What was it you said?

CAR. I offered to get your letter for you. I have a longer reach.

LUCY. What letter? (_jumps down_)

CAR. The latest one from Mr. Thorsby.

LUCY. Cook! How dare you?

CAR. I'm not naturally timid.

LUCY. You are excessively impertinent.

CAR. Am I? Very likely. But as that is your opinion, I'll chance a rather rude question--When are you going to bolt with Mr. Thorsby?

LUCY. What do you mean? I'm foolish to listen to you at all. I shall go to my uncle and aunt and tell them what you've just said. (_comes close to_ COOK, _then wavers and takes a step back_)

CAR. (_pause_) If I am mistaken about you and Mr. Thorsby, you would be quite right to tell them. Am I mistaken? (LUCY _tries to brave her, but her head droops_) Quite so! Then I think I would get the compromising letter out of the tree and say no more about it--unless you'll let _me_ do it. (_makes a movement to get letter_)

LUCY. Oh, no! (_she jumps hastily on seat and gets letter_) There! I don't care if you _do_ know. Anybody may know after to-morrow.

CAR. So it's to be to-morrow?

LUCY. (_jumps down_) Yes, it is. I am bound to trust you--I can't help myself; so if you choose to give the whole thing away, you can.

CAR. I shan't do that. On the contrary, I should like to do any little thing I could to help you. (LUCY _looks in wonder_)

LUCY. Thank you. (_slight pause; sits_) How did you find out--about--us? (_looking at_ COOK)

CAR. (_goes up a step_) Two or three Sundays ago--I was coming home about ten in the evening--it was my Sunday out--and as I came round the corner, you and Mr. Thorsby were outside the gate.

LUCY. Oh! (_her eyes drop_)

CAR. You were supposed to be spending the evening with your friend Mrs. Bronson, if you remember?

LUCY. Yes.

CAR. You didn't hear me coming and Mr. Thorsby said good-night to you.

LUCY. Oh!

CAR. He said it--very thoroughly.

LUCY. Yes--I believe he did.

CAR. That was how I found out.

LUCY. (_after slight pause_) How funny it seems to be talking to you about it all. What did you think--when you saw--what you saw?

CAR. I was rather amused.

LUCY. What did you think of _me_?

CAR. Need we go into that?

LUCY. I should like you to say.

CAR. Well, to tell you the truth, I thought you weren't going quite straight.

LUCY. Because of Captain Dorvaston?

CAR. Yes.

LUCY. I don't care for Captain Dorvaston--and I do care for Mr. Thorsby. Surely it's better to marry the man you love?

CAR. I daresay it would be. I have nothing to say against Mr. Thorsby--he seems a very pleasant young fellow. I shouldn't think he would take to drink (LUCY _looks in surprise_) or turn out badly to any special extent. Of course, one can't tell beforehand.

LUCY. Cook! (_surprised_)

CAR. It would be all right if you weren't engaged to another man.

LUCY. But Jack isn't in love with _me_! (_rises_)

CAR. You think not?

LUCY. He likes me, and he wouldn't admit to anybody--certainly not to himself--that I wasn't all the world to him, and a bit over; but in the way of _real_ love he doesn't care a rap for _me_. He doesn't care--a sprig of parsley! (_they look at each other_, COOK _smiles_, _and then_ LUCY _takes it up_)

CAR. Ah! that makes a difference. (_slight pause_) Well, I must see to the mayonnaise. (_she turns and goes up to the seat under the kitchen window, she begins to break eggs into the basin._ LUCY _goes up to porch and sits on it, leaning her head against the pillar_)

LUCY. Do you know, I think you've been trying to be very kind to me?

CAR. Not at all.

LUCY. I was wondering--if you would tell me a little--about yourself.

CAR. Tell you what?

LUCY. Tell me--about--your life.

CAR. My life! No. It's waste of time to discuss failures.

LUCY. You are a riddle--because you are--pardon me--a lady.

CAR. Well?

LUCY. And yet--yet--(_looking away_) Who are you? What are you?

CAR. The Vicar's cook. (_their eyes meet_) You will do me a favor, Miss Pillenger, if you will leave it at that.

LUCY. Oh, certainly! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be inquisitive.

(_Church clock chimes the half-hour._)

CAR. I'm sure you didn't.

LUCY. I ought to go down to the village. (_crosses to French window_)

CAR. (_takes up fork and begins to stir eggs_) Don't let me make you late for any appointment. (COOK _puts bowl on window_; LUCY _tries to laugh, and exits through French window_)

(DORVASTON _enters with large orchid_.)

DOR. Here you are, little woman,. (_looks for_ LUCY)

CAR. She has gone down to the village.

DOR. Hulloa! Are you there, Cook? (_goes to her_)

CAR. Yes.

DOR. Doing a bit of al fresco cooking?

CAR. I'm mixing the mayonnaise.

DOR. Are you, by George! That's devilish interesting. I suppose, now, the kitchen's a bit hot for things that go off color.

CAR. Yes.

DOR. Eggs, for instance. (_sits_ R. _of_ COOK) I suppose you start with eggs as a ground plan--and then--and then you beat 'em. I often thought I should like to beat eggs. (_seriously_)

CAR. (_rising_) You can beat these; at least, you can stir them, if you've a fancy that way. I want to baste my two fowls.

DOR. Oh! (_disappointed, stops stirring_)

CAR. (_she gives him the basin; pause; rises and turns to porch_) Don't leave off stirring till I come back.

DOR. (_beginning to stir_) Not for worlds. (COOK _turns_) But basting now, basting must be an unusual engrossing branch of the science. Couldn't I come and watch you baste?

CAR. (_standing at entrance to porch_) No; go on with the eggs please. That orchid seems rather in your way.

DOR. Got it for Lucy to wear to-night.

CAR. Give it me.

DOR. Thanks! (_gives it to her_)

CAR. Tell her I'm taking care of it. (_going_)

DOR. I say, Cook!

CAR. (_pausing_) Yes.

DOR. I want awfully to have a chat with you. (_edging to end of bench_)

CAR. You're chatting now. (_leans against post and faces_ DORVASTON)

DOR. Can't talk here--people about--and there's the basting.

CAR. That's true.

DOR. You'll be all alone this evening. Don't fancy I shall want much of the Penny Reading--a ha'porth will be plenty. Thought I'd stroll back--and _then_, don't you understand?

CAR. I think I understand _you_, but I'm doubtful if you quite understand me. I've an idea that what you want to say wouldn't interest me at all.

DOR. (_rises_) You're wrong. I don't mean an atom of harm--swear I don't. What I want to say I would say before anybody--only I'd rather talk it over quietly. May I come?

CAR. If you like.

DOR. Then you believe in me?

CAR. (_pauses_) Yes, I think I do. What time are you likely to be back?

DOR. Round about nine thirty.

CAR. Nine thirty! All right! Don't forget to stir the eggs (_he begins eagerly_) Very gently. (_enters porch and then kitchen._ DORVASTON _watches her off and is looking through window, still stirring, when_ PILLENGER _comes out of French window_)

PIL. Captain Dorvaston! Captain Dorvaston! Captain Dorvaston! (DORVASTON _turns to him_) If you are at leisure I should be glad if---- (_seeing basin and pointing to it_) What is that?

DOR. Fancy they call it a pudden basin.

PIL. What are you----? why should you----?

DOR. I'm stirring the eggs for the mayonnaise. Cook asked me to.

PIL. Tut, tut! I have received a letter from the lawyers, respecting the draught copy of your marriage settlement. I gave it to you. May I ask you to fetch it!

DOR. Just now, sir?

PIL. Naturally. Why not?

DOR. Promised I wouldn't leave off stirring. Look here, sir, if I fetch the paper, will you go on with the eggs? (_gives him basin--they both stir--so as not to stop_)

PIL. Well, rather than cause--er--domestic inconvenience (_takes basin_) but have the goodness to make haste. The position is not without embarrassment.

DOR. I'll look sharp, sir. (_crosses up back_) Don't forget to stir very gently.

PIL. The caution is quite superfluous. (_crosses to back of chair_ R.)

(MISS PILLENGER _comes out followed by_ LUCY; _both dressed for walking_.)

DOR. Hulloa, ma'am! Going for a prowl?

MISS P. Fowl? (_crosses_ C.)

PIL. Tut, tut! (_conceals the basin behind him_)

MISS P. (_crossing to him_) You here, Audley? I am accompanying Lucy to the village. I imagined you were writing your sermon.

PIL. I have been delayed by--er--unforeseen interruptions (DORVASTON _tells_ LUCY _about basin; she goes up behind_ PILLENGER _and taps it_) You are yourself wasting the freshness of the morning.

MISS P. I thought the moment was opportune for the purchase of your new socks.

PIL. Tut, tut!

MISS P. But you have given me no instructions as to pattern or texture.

PIL. Both are indifferent to me. I rely on your taste and judgment.

MISS P. I will go then. (_she moves_ L.; DORVASTON _opens gate and stands talking to her_; LUCY _laughs_)

PIL. What is amusing you, Lucy?

LUCY. I was laughing because----

PIL. I have no wish to hear. I object to frivolity.

LUCY. Do you, uncle? (_crosses_ L.) Wait for me, Auntie. (_turns to_ DORVASTON) Jack, where's my orchid?

DOR. Cook is taking care of it.

LUCY. (_looking at_ PILLENGER) What a treasure Cook is. (_looking at_ DORVASTON) I wonder what any of us would do without her? (_exit. The two men face each other for a second_)

DOR. (_laughs_) Sorry I let you in, sir, (_coming_ C.) but Lucy won't say anything. I'll be back directly--and, I say, you won't forget to stir very gently? (_exit off_)

PIL. (_angrily_) No, I won't! No, I won't! No, I won't! (_crosses; sits_ R. _of table, stirs violently for a moment, then remembers and slows down_; COOK _comes out_)

CAR. Captain Dorvaston! (_sees_ PILLENGER) Is Captain Dorvaston---- (_he turns round_) Oh, you've got it! (_comes to top of table_)

PIL. The basin? Yes. I was compelled to interrupt Captain Dorvaston, so I was endeavoring to supply his place; I fear with poor results. (_puts paper on seat_)

CAR. Let me look? (_takes basin, crosses a little_ C.) Thanks. (_she looks at it_) Oh, no--it's all right.

PIL. I am relieved to hear it. Still, it probably needs the--er--hum--the final touch of the artist. (_she turns to go_) You don't care for--er--compliments?

CAR. (_looking round_) No! (_coming_ C.)

PIL. Rather an unkind restriction.

CAR. A bird of some experience is apt to change its first opinion of bird-lime.

PIL. Yes, very true. But compliments that are the expression of honest and--er--respectful appreciation--what of them?

CAR. I don't know. I've never met that kind of compliment. If you'll excuse me, I'll go back to the fowls. (_going up_)

PIL. (_he follows her between tree and table to porch_) I have no right to detain you from more congenial society. (_door bell heard_) But I have something I particularly wish to say to you. (_she looks at him_) Something I wish to explain.

CAR. Certainly! What is it?

PIL. My explanation might--in fact, would occupy some time. (_door bell heard more violently_) The present moment is obviously ill-chosen for the purpose. You will be the sole occupant of the house this evening.

CAR. Shall I?

PIL. _Every_body--Keziah included--is going to the Penny Reading--even Gandy has asked permission to visit his aged mother.

CAR. Has he an aged mother? I didn't know.

PIL. He doesn't lay much stress on her--she suffers from spasms, and is a Nonconformist.

CAR. Well?

PIL. I thought if I came back early from the Parish room, I could explain what I--er--wish to explain. (_very violent ring at bell without interruption_)

CAR. You would discuss this all-important matter in the kitchen?

PIL. If you--er--see no objection.

CAR. It's your kitchen, and your responsibility; but if I were you I wouldn't explain.

PIL. Do you prohibit me from doing so?

CAR. No, come if you like. What time am I to expect you?

PIL. About nine o'clock. It's a quiet hour, and usually free from callers.

CAR. We'll hope it will prove so. Very well--till nine o'clock then. (_she goes into kitchen--he crosses up to French window at_ COOK'S _exit, still looking after her, buried in thought_. CRAYLL _comes through gateway, stands at steps, sees_ PILLENGER _and speaks_)

CRAY. Mornin'! (PILLENGER _does not hear, so_ CRAYLL _prods him in back with stick_) Mornin'.

PIL. Eh! Oh, good morning! (_comes_ C.)

CRAY. What time's the funeral?

PILL. Funeral?

CRAY. Ain't anybody dead? I rang your beastly front door bell till my arm ached; so I turned it up and came round to the back.

PIL. My butler--er--my male servant--is rather remiss. But to the best of my knowledge, he is still alive.

CRAY. Damn sorry for it.

PIL. Tut, tut!

CRAY. What's the matter?

PIL. I cannot countenance such language. My sacred calling----

CRAY. (_looking at him more attentively_) Oh, I see! Didn't know you were a magpie. Come to think of it, s'pose I passed your place of business a little way up the road, (_pointing up_ L.)

PIL. Er--hum--yes.

CRAY. Oh, well then, I take back the damn. After all, it don't do to open one's front door too quick. S'pose you thought I was the Water Rate. (_puts foot on chair, pulls out handkerchief, and dusts boot_)

PIL. No, sir.

CRAY. Gas?

PIL. Certainly not.

CRAY. Then what the devil did you think? (_dusts other boot_)

PIL. I had no theory on the subject; and as to your language--I really must beg----

CRAY. Beg? Yes, that's your trade. Same time I'll take back the devil. We don't often part company. Talking of the devil, did you ever have D.T.?

PIL. D.T.? D.T.? If you refer to the "Daily Telegraph," I usually read the "Standard."

CRAY. No, no! D.T. Jim-jams!

PIL. Jim-jams?

CRAY. Delirium tremens--ever had 'em?

PIL. Eh? What? Never, sir, never!

CRAY. Lucky beast! Well, when you _do_ have 'em, you'll know 'em again. I've had 'em twice.

PIL. Really!

CRAY. The last bout was a blazer. A man generally sees snakes, or rats, or spiders. It was spiders with me. (_makes movement of spider on_ PILLENGER'S _chest_)

PIL. Was it indeed?

CRAY. Yes--fat brutes with as many legs to 'em as an Empire ballet--all over the walls by day--all over the bed at night. If you lit a candle you saw 'em--if you didn't you felt 'em. Pah! filthy devils! (_sits exhausted_) Could I have a whiskey and soda?

PIL. You haven't mentioned the object of your visit.

CRAY. Man named Dorvaston hangs out here, don't he?

PIL. Captain Dorvaston is my guest at present.

CRAY. Thought so. Promised to look him up. We're goin' to price a horse--a nailer--risin' thirteen--and well up to Dorvaston's weight--which is sayin' somethin'.

PIL. Captain Dorvaston's physique is substantial.

CRAY. If he stood on your foot, I expect you'd ask him to move.

PIL. Probably!

CRAY. He's goin' to be somethin' to you by marriage, ain't he?

PIL. He is affianced to my niece.

CRAY. Hope he'll like it. (_takes cigar out of case_)

PIL. Why should he not, sir?

CRAY. I daresay you stick up for marriage--double blessedness and all that kind of muck. (_biting end of cigar_)

PIL. I regard the married state as best calculated to confer the greatest happiness that--er--the----

CRAY. Have you ever bin married? (_looking up at him_)

PIL. No.

CRAY. (_lights cigar_) I thought not. You beggars are always jawin' about what you don't understand. You've never had D.T., but that wouldn't stop you preaching about drink. You've never bin married, and yet you get up in the pulpit and talk about Hell as if you knew the country.

PIL. May I ask, Mr.--er----

CRAY. Crayll.

PIL. May I enquire, Mr. Crayll, if _you_ are married?

CRAY. (_blows out light and smiles_) Not at present.

(DORVASTON _comes out_.)

PIL. Ah! Here is Captain Dorvaston.

DOR. (_coming to_ PILLENGER C.) There's the paper you wanted, sir. It took a bit of finding. Keziah cleaned my room out yesterday. (_gives it to him_) Hulloa, Crayll! (_slaps him on back and crosses_ L.)

CRAY. Hulloa! (_rises_)

PIL. (_to_ DORVASTON) Now you have come, I will ask Mr. Crayll to excuse me.

CRAY. Don't name it. (_crosses to_ L.) Dorvaston will see to me. I daresay he knows where the whiskey's kept. (DORVASTON _laughs and goes up a step or two with_ PILLENGER)

PIL. (_aside_) Surely a most offensive person. (_crosses up_)

DOR. He's all right, sir. He takes a bit of knowing. (PILLENGER _goes into the house_)

CRAY. Now, for the Lord's sake get me a drop of whiskey to wash the parson out of my mouth.

DOR. (C.) Whiskey it is! Take potash with it?

CRAY. A little potash. (_crosses_ R.)

DOR. Right-O! Have a look at "Sporting Life"?

CRAY. What d'ye fancy for the Leger?

DOR. Centipede! It's a dead snip. You should have a bit on it.

CRAY. No, thank ye. Don't like the name--it's too spidery. (DORVASTON _goes up to kitchen window unseen by_ CRAYLL. CRAYLL _crosses behind chair, gets "Sporting Life," comes round_ L. _of table, puts hat on ground, stick behind him, and starts to read paper_)

DOR. Cook! Cook! (_at window_ COOK _appears_)

CAR. Yes?

DOR. Fact is, friend of mine has just turned up, and he's unusual thirsty. Would you bring him out a whiskey and potash?

CAR. Certainly.

DOR. Very kind of you--extr'ordinary kind.

CAR. Not at all. (_she disappears from window._ DORVASTON _goes back to_ CRAYLL)

DOR. Look here, I'll run up and put another coat on, and then we'll start.

CRAY. How about the whiskey?

DOR. It'll be here directly. (_exits through French window_)

CRAY. Thank ye. (_he resumes the newspaper_; COOK _comes to table_ R. _with small tray containing whiskey, etc.; she brings it down to small table, and speaks before putting the tray down_)

CAR. Whiskey and potash!

CRAY. All right! (_he puts down cigar on tray and turns slowly, the paper falls. They face each other in mutual astonishment_)

CRAY. Goodness a'mighty! (_slight pause_) Is that you? (_she is silent_) Is that you? (_speaking louder_)

CAR. Yes--what then?

CRAY. Phew! (_wipes his forehead_) When I saw you standin' there, dressed like that, I thought I'd got 'em again. Damned if I didn't.

CAR. Why?

CRAY. Why, who'd expect to see Lady Huntworth masqueradin' as a cook.

CAR. I'm not Lady Huntworth any longer. Surely Lord Huntworth is the last person who should need the reminder.

CRAY. I'm not Lord Huntworth down here. My name's Crayll for the present.

CAR. Really?

CRAY. I'm keepin' out of the way--for--reasons.

CAR. The local police don't strike me as being very shrewd.

CRAY. Police! What d'you mean? It's duns I'm hidin' from.

CAR. Duns!

CRAY. It's debt--it ain't crime.

CAR. Ah! not yet. Well, good-day, Mr. Crayll. I must go back to my cooking. (_crosses up_)

CRAY. Here, hold on. Damn it, don't be in such a hurry. (_crosses down_ C.) I want to talk to you.

CAR. I have to baste the fowls.

CRAY. Curse the beastly fowls. I must see you alone for half-an-hour, d'you hear?

CAR. I hear.

CRAY. It's infernal important. Will you meet me to-night?

CAR. No.

CRAY. Why not? What are you afraid of?

CAR. I'm not afraid of _you_. I think you know that.

CRAY. That long fool will be back in a minute. You'll see me somehow to-night, because--you've damned well got to--d'you understand?

CAR. I haven't the smallest notion why you want to see me, but since fate has played me a final dirty trick by throwing us together again, perhaps we _had_ better understand each other. So you can come here this evening for half-an-hour. I shall be alone. You had better tap at the window.

CRAY. That'll do--I'll come.

CAR. What time shall I have the honor?

CRAY. I'll get here about nine.

CAR. (_smiling_) Nine! You must make it earlier than that. I expect I shall be rather busy about nine.

CRAY. Eight-thirty then.

CAR. Yes, that would suit me. (_crosses to porch and then stops_)

CRAY. (_turns and sees she is in hesitation_) Is there anything else?

CAR. (_crosses down_ C. _to him_) As you seem to want to talk about something important you might break through a rule for once--and turn up in a possible condition.

CRAY. Not come drunk--is that what you mean?

CAR. No, I don't want to be unreasonable. At that time in the evening you are certain to be drunk,--but try not to be _too_ drunk to be coherent. I'll expect you at eight-thirty. (_she goes up stage, stands at kitchen window; after she has gone_ CRAYLL _picks up cigar from tray and draws at it, finding it out he throws it down violently and swears. He then pours out whiskey and drinks._ DORVASTON _comes out dressed for walking_)

DOR. Ready, old chap? (CRAYLL _half chokes_)

CRAY. In half-a-minute. (_drinks more whiskey_)

DOR. (_speaking across to_ COOK) Ah! Cook! friend and I are going for a stroll.

CAR. It's a pleasant day for walking.

DOR. How is our mayonnaise coming on? (CRAYLL _looks up on hearing this_)

CAR. Very well, I think.

DOR. That's all right! (_to_ CRAYLL, _who has been listening vacantly_) Shall we get along?

CRAY. Yes. (DORVASTON _goes out at the gate_; CRAYLL _puts hat on, takes stick, rises, crosses_ L. C., _and looks back. As he does so_, COOK _turns and looks at him_) Goodness A'mighty. (_he then goes out at gate_)

(_After he has gone_ COOK _comes down to the rustic table and takes up "Standard."_)

CAR. (_reads_) "Will Lady Huntworth communicate with Brampton and Stokes, Capel-Court, on a matter of considerable importance?" (_she stands in thought for a moment, then turns and goes up, reading the paper as she goes_)

CURTAIN.