Chapter 3

MRS. R. Yes, I suppose--as I wouldn't divorce him, though he wanted me to. I said marriages were made in Heaven.

A VOICE. Luckily, they don't last there.

(_Greatly startled, they look around, and perceive presently in the mirror over the mantelpiece the apparition of a figure which they seem dimly to recognise. A tall, florid gentleman of the Dundreary type, with long side-whiskers, and dressed in the fashion of sixty years ago, has taken up his position to one side of the ormolu clock; standing, eye-glass in eye, with folded arms resting on the mantel-slab and a stylish hat in one hand, he gazes upon the assembled family with quizzical benevolence._)

MRS. R. (_placidly_). What, is that you, Thomas?

THOMAS (_with the fashionable lisp of the fifties, always substituting 'th' for 's'_). How do you do, Susan?

(_There follows a pause, broken courageously by Mrs. James._)

LAURA. Are _you_ my Father?

THOMAS. I don't know. Who are _you_? Who are all of you?

LAURA. Perhaps I had better explain. This is our dear Mother: her you recognise. You are her husband; we are your daughters. This is Martha, this is Julia, and I'm Laura.

THOMAS. Is this true, Susan? Are these our progeny?

MRS. R. Yes--that is--yes, Thomas.

THOMAS. I should not have known it. They all look so much older.

LAURA. Than when you left us? Naturally!

THOMAS. Than _me_, I meant. But you all seem flourishing.

LAURA. Because we lived longer. Papa, when did you die?

JULIA. Oh! Laura!

THOMAS. I don't know, child.

LAURA. Don't know? How don't you know?

THOMAS. Because in prisons, and other lunatic asylums, one isn't allowed to know anything.

MRS. R. A lunatic asylum! Oh, Thomas, what brought you there?

THOMAS. A damned life, Susan--with you, and others.

JULIA. Oh, Laura, why did you do this?

MARTHA. If this goes on, I shall leave the room.

LAURA. Where are those _others_ now?

THOMAS. Three of them I see before me. You, Laura, used to scream horribly. When you were teething, I was sleepless. Your Mother insisted on having you in the room with us. No wonder I went elsewhere.

MARTHA. I'm going!

THOMAS. Don't, Martha! You were the quietest of the lot. When you were two years old I even began to like you. You were the exception.

LAURA. Haven't you any affection for your old home?

THOMAS. None. It was a prison. You were the gaolers and the turnkeys. To keep my feet in the domestic way you made me wool-work slippers, and I had to wear them. You gave me neckties, which I wouldn't wear. You gave me affection of a demanding kind, which I didn't want. You gave me a moral atmosphere which I detested. And at last I could bear it no more, and I escaped.

LAURA (_deaf to instruction_). Papa, we wish you and our dear Mother to come back and live with us.

THOMAS. Live with my grandmother! How could I live with any of you?

LAURA. Where _are_ you living?

THOMAS. Ask no questions, and you will be told no lies.

LAURA. Where is _she_?

THOMAS. Which she?

LAURA. The governess.

THOMAS. Which governess?

LAURA. The one you went away with.

THOMAS. D'you want her back again? You can have her. She'll teach you a thing or two. She did _me_.

LAURA. Then--you have repented, Papa?

THOMAS. God! why did I come here?

MRS. R. Yes; why did you come? It was weak of you.

THOMAS. Because I never could resist women.

LAURA. Were you really mad when you died, Papa?

THOMAS. Yes, and am still: stark, staring, raving, mad, like all the rest of you.

LAURA. I am not aware that _I_ am mad.

THOMAS. Then you are a bad case. Not to know it, is the worst sign of all. It's in the family: you can't help being. Everything you say and do proves it. . . . You were mad to come here. You are mad to remain here. You were mad to want to see me. I was mad to let you see me. I was mad at the mere sight of you; and I'm mad to be off again! Goodbye, Susan. If you send for me again, I shan't come!

(_He puts on his hat with a flourish._)

LAURA. Where are you going, Father?

THOMAS. To Hell, child! Your Hell, my Heaven!

(_He spreads his arms and rises up through the looking-glass; you see his violet frock-coat, his check trousers, his white spats, and patent-leather boots ascending into and passing from view. He twiddles his feet at them and vanishes._)

JULIA. And now I hope you are satisfied, Laura?

MARTHA. Where's Mamma gone?

JULIA. So you've driven her away, too. Well, that finishes it.

(_Apparently it does. Robbed of her parental prey, Mrs. James reverts to the next dearest possession she is concerned about._)

LAURA. Martha, where is the silver tea-pot?

MARTHA. I don't know, Laura.

LAURA. You said Julia had it.

MARTHA. I didn't say anything of the sort! You said--you supposed Julia had it; and I said--suppose she had! And I left it at that.

LAURA. Julia says she hasn't got it, so you _must_ have it.

MARTHA. I haven't!

LAURA. Then where is it?

MARTHA. I don't know any more than Julia knows.

LAURA. Then one of you is not telling the truth. . . . (_Very judicially she begins to examine the two culprits._) Julia, when did you last see it?

JULIA. On the day, Laura, when we shared things between us. It became Martha's: and I never saw it again.

LAURA. Martha, when did you last see it?

MARTHA. I have not seen it--for I don't know how long.

LAURA. That is no answer to my question.

MARTHA (_vindictively_). Well, if you want to know, it's at the bottom of the sea.

LAURA (_deliberately_). Don't talk--nonsense.

MARTHA. Unless a shark has eaten it.

LAURA. When I ask a reasonable question, Martha, I expect a reasonable answer.

MARTHA. I've given you a reasonable answer! And I wish the Judgment Day would come, and the sea give up its dead, and then---- (_At the end of her resources, the poor lady begins to gather herself up, so as once for all to have done with it._) Now, I am going downstairs to talk to Hannah.

LAURA. You will do nothing of the kind, Martha.

MARTHA. I'm not going to be bullied--not by you or anyone.

LAURA. I must request you to wait and hear what I've got to say.

MARTHA. I don't want to hear it.

LAURA. Julia, are we not to discuss this matter, pray?

(_Julia, who has her eye on Martha, and is quite enjoying this tussle of the two says nothing._)

MARTHA. You and Julia can discuss it. I am going downstairs.

(_Mrs. James crosses the room, locks the door, and, standing mistress of all she surveys, inquires with grim humour._)

LAURA. And where are you going to be, Julia?

JULIA. I am where I am, Laura. I'm not going out of the window, or up the chimney, if that's what you mean.

(_She continues gracefully to do her crochet._)

LAURA. Now, Martha, if you please.

MARTHA (_goaded into victory_). I'm sorry, Julia. You'd better explain. I'm going downstairs.

(_Suiting the action to the word, she commits herself doggedly to the experiment, descending bluntly and without grace through the carpet into the room below. Mrs. James stands stupent._)

LAURA. Martha! . . . Am I to be defied in this way?

JULIA. You brought it on yourself, Laura.

LAURA. You told her to do it!

JULIA. She would have soon found out for herself. (_Collectedly, she folds up her work and rises._) And now, I think, I will go to my room and wash my hands for supper.

(_As she makes her stately move, her ear is attracted by a curious metallic sound repeated at intervals. Turning about, she perceives, indeed they both perceive, in the centre of the small table, a handsome silver tea-pot which opens and shuts its lid at them, as if trying to speak._)

JULIA. Oh, look, Laura! Martha's tea-pot has arrived.

LAURA. She told a lie, then.

JULIA. No, it was the truth. She wished for it. The sea has given up its dead.

LAURA. Then now I _have_ got it at last!

(_But, as she goes to seize the disputed possession, Martha rises through the floor, grabs the tea-pot, and descends to the nether regions once more._)

LAURA (_glaring at her sister with haggard eye_). Julia, where _are_ we?

JULIA. I don't know what you mean, Laura. (_She reaches out a polite hand._) The key?

(_Mrs. James delivers up the key as one glad to be rid of it._)

LAURA. What is this place we've come to?

JULIA (_persuasively_). Our home.

LAURA. I think we are in Hell!

JULIA (_going to the door, which she unlocks with soft triumph_). We are all where we wish to be, Laura. (_A gong sounds._) That's supper. (_The gong continues its metallic bumbling._)

(_Julia departs, leaving Mrs. James in undisputed possession of the situation she has made for herself._)

CURTAIN

_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._