Part 1

_MRS. DOT_

_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

(_Uniform with this Volume_)

_PLAYS_:

_A MAN OF HONOUR_ _LADY FREDERICK_ _JACK STRAW_ _THE EXPLORER_ _PENELOPE_

(_In Preparation_)

_SMITH_ _THE TENTH MAN_ _GRACE_ _LOAVES AND FISHES_

_LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN_

_MRS. DOT_

_A FARCE_

_In Three Acts_

_By W. S. MAUGHAM_

_LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN_ _MCMXII_

_All rights reserved_

This play, originally called _Worthley’s Entire_, was produced at the Comedy Theatre on April 26, 1908, with the following cast:

JAMES BLENKINSOP FRED KERR GERALD HALSTANE W. GRAHAM BROWNE FREDDIE PERKINS KENNETH DOUGLAS CHARLES HERBERT ROSS MR. RIXON GEORGE BELLAMY MASON HORTON COOPER MR. WRIGHT BRIAN EGERTON GEORGE H. GERRISH LADY SELLENGER MARIE ILLINGTON NELLIE SELLENGER LYDIA BILLBROOKE MISS ELIZA MACGREGOR LENA HALLIDAY MRS. WORTHLEY MARIE TEMPEST

_MRS. DOT_

_CHARACTERS_

MRS. WORTHLEY FREDDIE PERKINS, _her nephew and secretary_ MISS ELIZA MACGREGOR, _her aunt_ GERALD HALSTANE JAMES BLENKINSOP LADY SELLENGER NELLIE, _her daughter_ CHARLES, _Gerald’s servant_ MASON, _Mrs. Worthley’s Butler_ MR. WRIGHT, _a tailor_ MR. RIXON, _Gerald’s solicitor_ BLENKINSOP’S MAN

TIME: _The present day_

ACT I--_Gerald’s rooms in Grafton Street_

ACTS II and III--_Mrs. Worthley’s house on the river_

_The Performing Rights of this play are fully protected, and permission to perform it, whether by Amateurs or Professionals, must be obtained in advance from the author’s Sole Agent, R. Golding Bright, 20 Green Street, Leicester Square, London, W.C., from whom all particulars can be obtained._

MRS. DOT

THE FIRST ACT

SCENE: GERALD’S _rooms in Grafton Street. A man’s room, pleasantly furnished, with very comfortable arm-chairs, and prints on the walls. Books are lying about, and smoking utensils._

CHARLES, GERALD HALSTANE’S _servant, opens the door_. MR. WRIGHT _comes in, a dapper young man, smartly dressed_.

CHARLES.

There, you can see for yourself that Mr. Halstane is not at home.

MR. WRIGHT.

Very well, I’ll wait for him.

CHARLES.

You’ll have to wait till midnight, because I don’t expect him in.

MR. WRIGHT.

Last time I came you said he’d be back in half an hour, and when I returned you said he’d just gone out. You don’t catch me napping a second time.

CHARLES.

The governor don’t take impertinence lying down, Mr. Wright, and he’ll look upon it as a great liberty your dunning him in this way.

MR. WRIGHT.

I don’t know about taking impertinence, but he’ll have to take a summons if my account is not settled at once.

[_There is a ring at the bell._

CHARLES.

[_Ironically._] Make yourself quite at home, won’t you?

MR. WRIGHT.

Thank you. I will.

[CHARLES _goes out and leaves the door open so that the conversation with_ RIXON, _the solicitor, is heard_.

RIXON.

[_Outside._] Is Mr. Halstane in?

CHARLES.

No, sir. He’s gone to his club.

RIXON.

Well, I’ll ring him up. I must see him on a matter of the very greatest importance. You’re on the telephone, aren’t you?

CHARLES.

Yes, sir. But there’s a person waiting to see him.

RIXON.

[_Coming in._] Oh, never mind.

[RIXON _is a short, rubicund man, with white whiskers and a hearty manner_.

MR. WRIGHT.

[_Going towards him._] Mr. Rixon. [RIXON _looks at him without recognising him_.] Don’t you remember me, sir? I’m the junior partner in Andrews and Wright.

RIXON.

Of course I do. I saw your father on business the other day. [_To_ CHARLES.] Where’s the telephone book?

CHARLES.

I’ll just go and fetch it, sir. Mr. Halstane lent it to the gentleman upstairs.

RIXON.

Be as quick as you can.

[CHARLES _goes out_.

RIXON.

[_To_ MR. WRIGHT.] What are you doing here?

MR. WRIGHT.

Well, the fact is, we’ve got a very large account with Halstane, and I’m told he’s in queer street. I want to get the money before the crash comes.

RIXON.

Queer street? The man’s just come into seven thousand a year.

MR. WRIGHT.

What!

RIXON.

That’s why I’m running all over the place to find him. You know he’s a relation of the Hollingtons. I was at her ladyship’s not half an hour ago--the Dowager, you know--my firm has acted for the whole family for the last hundred years. Well, I’d hardly arrived before a message came from the War Office to say that her grandson, the present lord, had been killed in India. So as soon as I could, I bolted round here. Mr. Halstane is the next heir, and he comes into seven thousand a year and the title.

MR. WRIGHT.

My gracious, that’s a piece of luck.

RIXON.

I don’t mind telling you now that he’d pretty well come to the end of his tether. Your money was all right because he’d have paid everything up, but he wouldn’t have had much left.

MR. WRIGHT.

Of course he doesn’t know anything about this yet?

RIXON.

Not a word. For all he knows, he’s a ruined man, and here am I trying to get him on the telephone to tell him he’s come into a peerage and a very handsome income.

[CHARLES _enters with the telephone book_.

CHARLES.

7869 Gerrard, sir.

RIXON.

Thanks.

[_He rings up and asks for the number._

RIXON.

7869 Gerrard, please, Miss.... What? Confound it, the line’s engaged.... I must go round to his club in a cab. I suppose you don’t want to wait here now, Wright?

MR. WRIGHT.

No, sir. I’ll get back to the shop.

CHARLES.

I ’ope you’ll suit your own convenience, sir. [CHARLES _shows them out and comes back_.] I don’t know what these tradespeople are coming to when they expect gentlemen to pay their bills.

[_He seats himself in the most comfortable chair in the room and puts his feet on the table. His back is to the door. The newspaper is lying by his side. He shuts his eyes and dozes._

[GERALD _enters silently, followed immediately by_ BLENKINSOP _and_ FREDDIE PERKINS.

[GERALD _is a handsome man of seven or eight and twenty, simple in his manners, carefully dressed but without exaggeration_. FREDDIE _is a vivacious boy of two and twenty_, BLENKINSOP _is an old bachelor of five and forty; he is well-preserved and takes a good deal of care of his appearance. He is dressed in the height of fashion._

[_For a moment they look silently at_ CHARLES, _who wakes with a start and jumps up in confusion_.

CHARLES.

I beg your pardon, sir; I didn’t hear you come in.

GERALD.

[_With an ironical politeness which he preserves during all his remarks to_ CHARLES.] Pray don’t let us disturb you. I shall never forgive myself if I think I’ve interrupted your nap.

CHARLES.

Shall I take your hat, sir?

GERALD.

It’s very kind of you. I shouldn’t like you to put yourself out.

FREDDIE.

[_Sitting down._] By Jove, what a ripping chair! No wonder that Charles went to sleep.

CHARLES.

Mr. Rixon has just been, sir. He’s gone on to the club.

GERALD.

[_With a laugh._] I’m not sorry to miss him. One’s solicitor seldom has any good news to bring one.

CHARLES.

Will you have the whiskey and soda, sir?

GERALD.

If it wouldn’t give you too much trouble.

[CHARLES _goes out, and_ GERALD _hands the cigarette box to_ BLENKINSOP _and_ FREDDIE.

GERALD.

Sit down and make yourself comfortable, James.

BLENKINSOP.

To do that is one of the few principles I’ve adhered to in the course of an easy and unadventurous life.

[CHARLES _enters with a tray on which are glasses, whiskey and sodas_.

CHARLES.

Is there anything else you want, sir?

GERALD.

If you can spare me two minutes of your valuable time, I should like to make a few observations to you.

FREDDIE.

Collect yourself, Charles, to receive the words of wisdom that fall from Mr. Halstane’s lips.

CHARLES.

Things is very bad on the Stock Exchange, sir.

GERALD.

Charles, I have no objection to your sitting in my arm-chair and putting your feet on my table. I am willing to ignore the fact that you smoke my cigars and drink my whiskey.

BLENKINSOP.

[_Sipping._] You show excellent judgment, Charles. The whiskey’s capital.

CHARLES.

[_Imperturbably._] Pot-still, sir. Fifteen years in bottle.

GERALD.

I can even bear with equanimity that you should read my letters. For the most part they’re excessively tedious, and they will only show you how deplorable is the education of the upper classes. But I must insist on your _not_ reading my paper till I’ve done with it.

CHARLES.

I’m very sorry, sir. I thought there was no objection.

GERALD.

A newspaper, a suit of clothes, and a bottle of wine are three things at which I prefer....

CHARLES.

To ’ave the first cut in, sir.

GERALD.

I thank you, Charles; I couldn’t have expressed my meaning more idiomatically.

FREDDIE.

[_Laughing._] You’d better have a drink.

CHARLES.

Allow me, sir.

[_He mixes a whiskey and soda._

GERALD.

You need not pour out the whiskey with such a generous hand as when you help yourself. Thank you.

CHARLES.

Them mining shares of yours is very low, sir.

GERALD.

They are.

CHARLES.

If you’ll remember, sir, I was all against them at the time you bought.

BLENKINSOP.

You are a jewel, Charles, if besides administering to your master’s wants you advise him in his financial transactions.

GERALD.

Unless I’m mistaken, Charles strongly recommended me to invest my money in public-houses.

CHARLES.

Them being frequented in peace and war, and not subject to clandestine removals. In peace men drink to celebrate their ’appiness, and in war to drown their sorrow.

GERALD.

[_Smiling._] You are a philosopher, Charles, and it cuts me to the quick that I should be forced to deny myself the charm of your conversation.

CHARLES.

[_Astonished._] I beg your pardon, sir?

GERALD.

I am endeavouring to give you notice in such a manner as not to outrage your susceptibilities.

CHARLES.

Me, sir? I’m sorry if I don’t give satisfaction.

GERALD.

On the contrary, you give every satisfaction. It has never been my good fortune to run across a servant who had an equal talent for blacking boots and for repartee. I am grateful for the care with which you have kept my wardrobe, and the encouragement you have offered to my attempts at humour. I have never seen you perturbed by a rebuke, or discouraged by ill-temper. Your merits, in fact, are overwhelming, but I’m afraid I must ask you to find another place.

BLENKINSOP.

You really shouldn’t be so abrupt, Gerald. Look at him staggering under the blow.

CHARLES.

I’m very comfortable here, sir. Can you give me no reason for this decision?

GERALD.

You gave it yourself, Charles. As you justly observed, them mining shares is very low. You are sufficiently acquainted with my correspondence to be aware that my creditors have passed with singular unanimity from the stage of remonstrance to that of indignation.

BLENKINSOP.

I say, I’m sorry to hear this, old man.

CHARLES.

If it’s just a matter of wages, sir, I shall be ’appy to wait till it suits your convenience to pay me.

GERALD.

[_With a smile of thanks._] I’m grateful to you for that, Charles; but, honestly, do you think half-measures can be of any use to me?

CHARLES.

Well, sir, so far as I’m acquainted with your circumstances....

GERALD.

Come, come, this modesty ill becomes you. Is there a bill in this room, or a solicitor’s letter, with which you are not intimately acquainted?

CHARLES.

Well, sir, if you ask me outright--things is pretty bad.

FREDDIE.

I say, don’t play the ass any more. What the deuce does it all mean?

GERALD.

I’m sorry the manner in which I’m imparting to you an interesting piece of information, doesn’t meet with your approval. Would you like me to tear my hair in handfuls?

BLENKINSOP.

It would be picturesque, but painful.

FREDDIE.

Are you really broke?

GERALD.

So much so that I’ve to-day sublet my rooms. In a week, Charles, I shall cast the dust of London off my feet, a victim to the British custom of primogeniture.

CHARLES.

Yes, sir.

GERALD.

Have you the least idea what I mean?

CHARLES.

No, sir.

GERALD.

Well, I feel certain that during some of the many leisure moments you have enjoyed in my service, you have cast an eye upon that page in Burke upon which my name figures--insignificantly.

CHARLES.

Begging your pardon, sir, I looked you up in the Peerage before I accepted the situation.

GERALD.

It rejoices me to learn that your investigations were satisfactory.

CHARLES.

Well, sir, always having lived before with titled gentlemen, I felt I owed it to myself to be careful.

GERALD.

I am overpowered by your condescension, Charles. It never occurred to me that you were taking my character while I was taking yours.

CHARLES.

If servants wanted as good characters from masters as masters want from servants, I ’ave an idea that many gentlemen would ’ave to clean their own boots.

GERALD.

You scintillate, Charles, but I deplore your tendency to digress.

CHARLES.

I beg pardon, sir. As you was the second son of an honourable and very well connected, I didn’t mind stretching a point. If I may say so, your father was almost a nobleman.

GERALD.

The consequence is, however, that I was brought up without in the least knowing how to earn my living. I belong to that vast army of younger sons whose sole means of livelihood is a connection with a peer of the realm and such mother-wit as Dame Nature has provided them with.

[_A ring is heard._

CHARLES.

There’s some one at the door, sir. Are you at home?

GERALD.

No, I expect two ladies to tea in half an hour, but you must admit no one else. These gentlemen will be forced to deprive me of their society in twenty-five minutes.

BLENKINSOP.

Not at all. Not at all.

GERALD.

I repeat with considerable firmness that these gentlemen will be compelled by a previous engagement to leave me in _twenty_ minutes.

BLENKINSOP.

It’ll be difficult after that to make our departure seem perfectly natural, won’t it?

[_A second ring is heard._

GERALD.

Nobody’s to come in.

CHARLES.

Very good, sir.

[_He goes out._

BLENKINSOP.

I say, old man, I’m awfully sorry to hear this bad news of yours. Can’t I do anything to help you?

GERALD.

No, thanks.

[_The bell is rung continuously, with the greatest impatience._

FREDDIE.

By Jove, whoever your visitor is, he doesn’t like being kept waiting.

MRS. DOT.

[_Outside._] Is Mr. Halstane at home?

FREDDIE.

[_Softly._] Why, it’s my aunt.

BLENKINSOP.

Mrs. Dot.

GERALD.

Ssh!

CHARLES.

Not at home, madam.

MRS. DOT.

[_Outside._] Nonsense. I want to see him very particularly.

CHARLES.

I’m very sorry, madam. Mr. Halstane went out not five minutes ago. I almost wonder you didn’t meet him on the stairs.

MRS. DOT.

Yes, I know all about that.

[MRS. WORTHLEY _comes in. She is a pretty little woman, very wonderfully gowned. She is frank, open and full of spirits._ CHARLES _follows her into the room_.

MRS. DOT.

Oh! Three of you. Charles, how can you tell such stories?

CHARLES.

[_Very gravely._] Mr. Halstane is _not_ at home, madam.

GERALD.

[_Coming forward and taking her hand._] Charles is shocked at your lack of decorum.

MRS. DOT.

Run away, Charles. And don’t do it again.... I suppose you think this sort of thing isn’t done in the best families?

CHARLES.

[_Stiffly._] No, madam.

MRS. DOT.

I saw one of my drays outside, so I thought I’d just look in to see how you liked it.

CHARLES.

[_Icily._] I beg your pardon, madam?

MRS. DOT.

The beer, my good man, the beer! Don’t you know that I’m _Worthley’s Entire_?

CHARLES.

I never gave the subject a thought, madam.

MRS. DOT.

And very good our half-crown family ale is, although I say it as shouldn’t.

GERALD.

You may go, Charles.

[_Without a word, much on his dignity_ CHARLES _departs_.

GERALD.

[_Gaily._] It’s fortunate I’ve just given him notice, because Charles would certainly never stay in a house where he’d been so grossly insulted.

MRS. DOT.

I love shocking Charles. He’s so genteel. Whenever I come here I see him obviously trying not to show that he’s perfectly well aware that I have anything to do with trade.

BLENKINSOP.

The world is so degenerate that it’s only among domestic servants that you find any respect for landed gentry and any contempt for commerce.

MRS. DOT.

[_To_ FREDDIE.] I’m glad to see that you’re not ruining your health by working too hard as my secretary.

FREDDIE.

I’ve been lunching with Blenkinsop. I answered about fifty begging letters before I came out this morning.

MRS. DOT.

[_To_ GERALD.] You’ve not said you’re glad to see me yet.

GERALD.

I’m not sure that I am, very.

MRS. DOT.

[_Not at all disconcerted._] Then say you like my frock.

GERALD.

Yes, it’s very nice.

MRS. DOT.

Very nice! I should think it was very nice. There’s no one in London who’d venture to wear anything half so outrageous. And as for the hat....

BLENKINSOP.

The hat’s hideous. But I suppose it’s fashionable.

MRS. DOT.

My dear James, where were you educated?

BLENKINSOP.

At Eton.

MRS. DOT.

Well, they taught you nothing about clothes.

BLENKINSOP.

I wish sometimes that nice women wouldn’t get themselves up as if they were no better than they should be.

MRS. DOT.

Don’t be so absurd. The ideal of a woman who takes any pains about her frocks is to look as like an abandoned hussy as she possibly can.

[MRS. DOT _chooses the most comfortable chair in the room_.

GERALD.

I’m afraid I can’t ask you to sit down.

MRS. DOT.

Oh, don’t trouble. I’m perfectly capable of doing that of my own accord.... If you think I’m going before you’ve answered a hundred and fifty questions you’re very much mistaken. First, I want to know why you’ve not been near me for the last week? Then why you try to keep me out of the place? And lastly, why you show every desire to get rid of me when I’m here?

GERALD.

I’ve not seen you because I’ve been uncommonly busy. I said I was not at home because I’m in the worst possible temper. And I want to get rid of you because I’m expecting somebody else.

MRS. DOT.

I suppose if I were a thoroughly tactful person I should now ring for my carriage?

GERALD.

I daresay you would ask me to ring for it.

MRS. DOT.

Well, I shall neither do the one nor the other. In the first place your answers are all nonsense and in the second I want to know who’s coming? If it’s some one I know, I shall stop and say, How d’you do, and if it isn’t I want to see what _it’s_ like.

GERALD.

I suppose you know I’m perfectly capable of turning you out by main force.

MRS. DOT.

If you touch me I shall scream.

[_She looks quickly at_ FREDDIE _and_ BLENKINSOP, _then gives a smile_.

MRS. DOT.

Oh, Freddie, I quite forgot. I’ve got a pile of letters that I found on my way out this afternoon. There are three poor clergymen who can’t pay their bills, and there are five elderly spinsters who don’t know which way to turn for their quarter’s rent, and there are seven deserving ladies with a starving husband each and sixteen children.

BLENKINSOP.

How very immoral!

MRS. DOT.

It would be much more immoral if they had a starving child each and sixteen husbands.

BLENKINSOP.

I suppose it’s never occurred to you that you do a great deal more harm than good by your indiscriminate charity?

MRS. DOT.

Don’t be such an old frump. If it gives me a certain amount of pleasure to give money away, why on earth shouldn’t I? I daresay that nineteen out of every twenty people I help are thoroughly worthless, but it’s only by doing something for them all that I can be quite certain of not missing the twentieth.

FREDDIE.

D’you want me to write to them at once?

MRS. DOT.

This very minute.

FREDDIE.

[_With a smile._] But that’ll only get rid of me, you know. Blenkinsop will still be here.

MRS. DOT.

[_Coolly._] James, do go and see that Freddie writes his letters nicely. He’s only just come down from Oxford, and his spelling is rather shaky.

BLENKINSOP.

[_With a grunt._] You can give us a shout when you’ve had your talk.

MRS. DOT.

Now mind, Freddie. I before E except after C.

[_They go out._

GERALD.

[_Laughing._] You’re a very bold woman, Mrs. Dot.

MRS. DOT.

[_With a change of tone._] What’s the matter, Gerald?

GERALD.

[_Surprised._] With me?

MRS. DOT.

Won’t you tell an old friend?

GERALD.

[_After a very short pause._] Nothing that you can help me in, Mrs. Dot.

MRS. DOT.

Won’t you leave the Mrs. out? It makes me feel so five and thirtyish.

GERALD.

You’re a ripping good sort, and we’ve had some charming times together. I’m glad that you came to-day, because it’s given me an opportunity to thank you for all your kindness to me.

MRS. DOT.

My dear boy, what _are_ you talking about?

GERALD.

Well, the fact is, I’ve been spending a good deal of money lately, and I’m rather broke.

MRS. DOT.

How stupid of me! I’ve always had such lots myself it never occurs to me that any one else may be hard up. And I’ve let you pay all sorts of things for me, theatres and dinners and heaven knows what. I must owe you a perfect fortune.

GERALD.

Nonsense! You don’t owe me a penny.

MRS. DOT.

Well then, in future I insist on paying for everything. I’m not going to give up our little dinners at the Savoy and our suppers and all the rest of it. Don’t be so silly. You know I have ten times more money than I know what to do with.

GERALD.

Yes, I can see you furtively slipping your purse into my hand so that I should pay for a luncheon, and giving me a shilling over for the cab. No, thank you.

MRS. DOT.

Then we’ll economise together. It only means going to the pit of a theatre instead of taking a box. Well, I like the pit much better. You see all the women come in and you criticise their back hair. And you suck delicious oranges all the time. It makes my mouth water to think of it. And we’ll go on a bus instead of taking cabs. They’re much safer, and I like sitting on the front seat and talking to the driver. Bus-drivers are always such handsome men.

GERALD.

It’s not a question of driving in buses, but of walking on my flat feet.

MRS. DOT.

Very well. You shall walk on your flat feet, and I’ll trip along by your side on my arched instep.

GERALD.

Things have come to such a pass that I must either beg, steal, or work.

MRS. DOT.

Then tell me exactly how matters stand.

GERALD.

It would only bore you, and besides you wouldn’t understand.

MRS. DOT.

Now you’re talking through your hat, my friend. You’re simply talking through your hat. I flatter myself there are few men who have a better head for business than I have. Why, since my husband died I’ve almost doubled our profits. The brewery has never been so flourishing. I’ve told the British People on fifty thousand hoardings to drink Worthley’s Half-crown Family Ale, and by Jove, the British People do.

GERALD.

You funny little thing.

MRS. DOT.

Well, now tell me all about it, and let’s see if things can’t be put straight.

GERALD.

Oh, my dear, I’m afraid they’re in a most awful mess. I never had much money to start with, and I got into debt. Then I tried a flutter on the Stock Exchange, and the confounded shares went down steadily from the day I bought.

MRS. DOT.

It’s a way shares have when fools buy them.

GERALD.

But I daresay I could have weathered that, only a pal of mine got into a hole, and I backed a bill for him.

MRS. DOT.

You don’t mean to say you did that?

GERALD.

I was obliged to. I couldn’t let him go under without trying to do something.

MRS. DOT.