Part 5

(_Greeting Theodore._) Where's Mrs. Ben Dixon?

THEODORE TRAVERS.

She'll be here in a minute. It occurred to her when we got to Paddington Station that she hadn't had any lunch, and that this wasn't a scene to be gone through on an empty stomach. So we left her there laying in a beefsteak and a bottle of stout. Miss Deane has come with us. She thought she would like to see Nelly.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

(_Advancing and shaking hands with Cherry._) Yes, Mr. Cherry. Do you know if she's in?

ADAM CHERRY.

She's upstairs all alone, my dear. She'll be so pleased to see you, I know.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

Oh, I'll run up to her, then. (_Moves towards door._)

ADAM CHERRY.

Yes, do, my dear. (_Following her._) Let me----

PRIMROSE DEANE.

(_Stopping him._) No, don't trouble, Mr. Cherry. I know my way. (_Opens door, and goes out._)

THEODORE TRAVERS.

I say--I suppose there's no where in this room where I could hide, is there? (_Looks round_.) It will be a lovely scene, you know--quite a family group, Ben and his two wives. (_Enthusiastically_.) Why, such an opportunity may not occur again for years. Can't you put me behind these curtains? (_He is by window_.)

ADAM CHERRY.

Oh, my dear boy, impossible!

THEODORE TRAVERS.

Um! 'Twould be awkward I suppose. Pity! (_hopefully,_) What sort of a keyhole have you got? (_Crossing to door, Right._)

ADAM CHERRY.

(_Laughs._) Not much good to you, I'm afraid. You can't get the key out.

THEODORE TRAVERS.

(_Who has opened the door--the key being outside--trying it._) Ah, no encouragement to an artist anywhere here. I shall have to pump the scene out of the mater afterwards, and her accounts are always so painfully idealistic.

(_Ted enters._)

Hulloa, Ted!

TED MORRIS.

Hulloa! You here?

THEODORE TRAVERS.

Yes. (_Looks at him._) You've been ploughed then?

TED MORRIS.

Who told you?

THEODORE TRAVERS.

You did, by your face. What does it feel like?

TED MORRIS.

(_With a cynical laugh_) Do you want to make notes?

THEODORE TRAVERS.

(_Taking out his note-book_) If you are sure you don't mind.

TED MORRIS.

Not at all. Delighted to be of service to the cause of literature. Now let me see how does a man feel. Well, at first he feels sick and dazed.

THEODORE TRAVERS.

(_Writing_) Yes.

TED MORRIS.

And then he gets mad and curses himself and the world and everybody in it; and feels----

THEODORE TRAVERS.

Half a minute, old chap, I am not a typewriter.

TED MORRIS.

----and feels that he'd like to go to the devil only he hasn't got the travelling expenses.

THEODORE TRAVERS.

Quite right. The expensiveness of vice I have always considered to be virtue's greatest safeguard. Poor people can only afford to go as far as the dogs. Yes?

TED MORRIS.

Oh, and then--oh, then he feels very weary of the whole thing and wishes that he could get away from it all, and go to sleep--for a long time. (_Throws himself in chair._)

ADAM CHERRY.

Oh, come, you mustn't despair. You've only been "spun," as you fellows call it, for a few months.

TED MORRIS.

Oh, no, it's nothing very terrible to be "spun," if you've got anything to spin on.

THEODORE TRAVERS.

Yes--a top spins best when it's full of air--a man doesn't.

ADAM CHERRY.

You see, you won't let anybody help you, Ted.

TED MORRIS.

(_Rising._) Oh, that's only my nonsense, Mr. Cherry. We're not paupers. (_To Theodore._) Are you coming upstairs to see Nelly?

THEODORE TRAVERS.

Yes, yes; I'll come up with you now. How is she?

TED MORRIS.

Oh, not too jolly. You'll be able to make a few notes. (_They go out_.)

ADAM CHERRY.

Poor boy! Ah, well, he won't be able to help my helping him when I'm his brother-in-law! (_He takes up a photo of Nelly lying on table._) Dear, dear me, fancy me a married man, with somebody to call "my dear!" You're a lucky dog, Adam Cherry--a lucky dog, even if you have been swindled out of all your savings, and have to go on working for your living! Bah! what's _work_ when you've got somebody to work for? Why---- (_Notices Theodore's note-book left on table and pauses._) Hulloa! Our literary friend's note-book. (_Takes it up and turns it about in his hand, musing._) I wonder if there'd be any harm now in looking inside? I should like to see how he goes to work--oh, it's only just the same as an artist's sketch-book, and nobody minds looking into that. (_Opens it at end and reads._) "June 28th, Brussels. Good idea for farcical comedy. N.B. Will probably need toning down for English market. Married lady starts to call on elderly gentleman of irreproachable character, she----"(_Reads on with broadening smile extending to chuckle--suddenly checks himself._) Yes--it probably would (_Turns over more leaves._) Hulloa, what's this marked "Unfinished. Novel or comedy. Characters: Good-hearted, but chuckle-headed old man, knows himself fifty-five, calls himself forty-five, fancies himself thirty-five." (_Chuckles_): Ah, yes, I know that class of man--very clever, very clever! "Young artist, somewhat conventional type, see page 3. Girl, cross between the romantically heroic and the quaintly practical. Girl loves artist. Artist loves girl. But both are poor. Old chap, well off, proposes to girl. She, tired of poverty, throws love to the dogs and accepts. Old fellow suspects nothing and tells himself that he will soon win her love by his devotion and all that sort of thing. Will he ever find out the truth?" Ah, yes, that ought to make a capital story. I wonder what _will_ happen? (_Putting down book._) I feel quite sorry for that old man. A _very_ interesting little story indeed. I wonder where he got it from now? (_Takes up book again._) He's dated it June 14th--June 14th--why---- Yes, that's the day I proposed to Nelly--and--he was here that day. (_Sits thinking. Suddenly a suspicion of the truth flashes across him. He hurriedly takes the book and reads again, this time in a trembling voice._) "Chuckle-headed old man--Young artist." (_Thinks_). Jack Medbury. "Girl loves artist--artist loves girl--old chap well off--proposes to girl. She, tired of poverty, throws love to the dogs and accepts. Old fellow suspects nothing--tells himself he will soon win her love by his devotion, and--and all that sort of thing." (_Lets his hand with book fall on table._) That's the true story. It's _I_ who have been building up the romance. Jack used to be here every day. He's never been near the place since. Nelly never smiles even now. I've fancied it was because she was ill and worried, and that I should be able to make her happy as soon as I had her all to myself and could take care of her. (_Irritably pushing the book away from him._) I wish people wouldn't leave their things about. (_Bows his head between his hands._)

(_Primrose pushes open the door gently and enters. Seeing Cherry in this attitude, she comes softly over and lays her hand on his shoulder._)

PRIMROSE DEANE.

Are you ill, Mr. Cherry?

ADAM CHERRY.

(_Starting._) No, my dear; no. I was only thinking. How--how do you think Nelly's looking?

PRIMROSE DEANE.

(_She has brought in some flowers and is arranging them in vase._) Oh, pretty well.

ADAM CHERRY.

It--it doesn't seem to you, my dear, does it, that she's fretting herself about anything?

PRIMROSE DEANE.

(_Puzzled how to answer._) Oh no; I expect she's worried about her brother, you know, Mr. Cherry, and poor Mrs. Ben Dixon.

ADAM CHERRY.

Ah, yes, yes; but don't you think there may be something else besides--something more nearly concerning herself?

PRIMROSE DEANE.

Why do you ask, Mr. Cherry? (_She comes to him_.)

ADAM CHERRY.

(_Rising and taking both her hands._) Because, my dear, I'm a very inexperienced old man, and I want some shrewd little person who understands these matters better than I do to advise me. (_Very earnestly_.) Do you think, my dear, I shall be making Nelly happy by marrying her?

PRIMROSE DEANE.

Truthfully, Mr. Cherry?

ADAM CHERRY.

Truthfully, my dear, for both our sakes.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

Then I don't, Mr. Cherry.

ADAM CHERRY.

You--you think there's somebody else who could do it better? (_Primrose nods her head._) Thank you, my dear (_releases her hands_).

PRIMROSE DEANE.

I'm so sorry, Mr. Cherry.

ADAM CHERRY.

There'd be more to be sorry for still, my dear, if we're too late to mend matters (_turning away_). We won't talk about it any more. Have you seen Ted?

PRIMROSE DEANE.

N-no.

ADAM CHERRY.

Not! Why he's just gone upstairs.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

(_Awkwardly._) Y-yes--I--I heard him come in. I was in Nelly's room. I came out by the other door.

ADAM CHERRY.

(_Looking at her with surprise._) I thought you and he were such good friends?

PRIMROSE DEANE.

This world's friendships are very fleeting.

ADAM CHERRY.

(_With a smile._) My dear, there's some mistake here. I said just now that I was inexperienced. But there are some things that even dim eyes cannot help seeing, and I'm sure that--forgive me, my dear, I'm only an old fellow--that he cared for you very much.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

(_Looking out of window._) He--he made me think so.

ADAM CHERRY.

And then you quarrelled?

PRIMROSE DEANE.

No--he changed--all of a sudden just as--as if he had found out something bad against me--and--and I've never done anything bad--not, not _very_ bad (_choking a sob_). Do you think anybody could have said anything to set him against me?

ADAM CHERRY.

Oh, impossible! What could---- Wait a minute, though. There's one thing somebody might have told him about you that would have been enough to send Master Ted off at double quick march.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

What?

ADAM CHERRY.

Can't you think?

PRIMROSE DEANE.

N-no. Is there anything very dreadful about me, then?

ADAM CHERRY.

Yes, my dear--to a young fellow as proud as he is poor--your money.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

My money! Won't anybody ever lo--like me then because I've got some money?

ADAM CHERRY.

Plenty, my dear. But pennyless young men who fall in love with heiresses are liable to be dubbed "fortune-hunters," and our high-spirited young friend----

PRIMROSE DEANE.

(_Interrupting petulantly._) Rather than risk that, would sacrifice all his life's happiness. I call it very horrid and--and very selfish of him.

ADAM CHERRY.

It's very silly, my dear, but depend upon it that's the explanation. You----

(_Primrose, when she entered, left the door a little open, and now Ted is heard whistling as he comes downstairs. Primrose is in front of easy-chair. Cherry pushes her down into it and stands before her._)

ADAM CHERRY.

Tell him what you think of him.

(_Enter Ted, still smoking his pipe._)

TED MORRIS.

Do you mind my sitting down here for a little while, Cherry? I'm tired of walking about the streets, and I'm not feeling in good enough condition to sit out Travers' wit and humour. I've left him upstairs with Nelly.

ADAM CHERRY.

Certainly, my dear boy. Stop here as long as ever you like and make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a few minutes. (_He goes out._)

TED MORRIS.

(_He strolls to window, whistling, and looks out._) It's a damned world.

(Primrose coughs.)

TED MORRIS.

(_Startled, he looks round and sees Primrose._) I--I beg your pardon, Miss Deane. I had no idea _you_ were here.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

Is that the way you usually talk when I'm _not_ here?

TED MORRIS.

(_Smiling._) Not always (_Gloomily again._) The truth is I'm a bit down on my luck just now, and----

PRIMROSE DEANE.

(_Kindly_) I know. Nelly has been telling me. I am so very sorry.

TED MORRIS.

Thank you, Miss Deane, I knew you would be.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

(_Frigidly._) Oh, did you? I don't think you had any right to assume it after your conduct at out last interview. I suppose you know that I'm excessively angry with you.

TED MORRIS.

(_Dismally._) You have every right to be. (_A pause--Ted goes to window._)

PRIMROSE DEANE.

I think if I were a gentleman, and had behaved exceedingly rudely to a lady, I should take the first opportunity of begging her pardon, and asking her to--to _try_ and forgive me.

TED MORRIS.

(_Still at window._) I do beg your pardon, Miss Deane, from the bottom of my heart. And I should like you to forgive me--if you ever could.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

I don't think that's at all the way anybody ought to ask anybody else's pardon (_looks across at him_) all that way off. And I can't forgive you until I know why you did it. (_A pause._) Why--why did you do it?

TED MORRIS.

I--I cannot tell you. Please don't ask me.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

I suppose then I must think what I like?

TED MORRIS.

(_Gloomily._) I'm afraid so.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

I--I thought at one time it might be because--(_looking slyly at him_) because I had lost all my money.

TED MORRIS.

(_Turning suddenly mid eagerly._) Lost all your money?

PRIMROSE DEANE.

(_Looking carefully away._) Yes. I thought somebody might have told you--people are so fond of telling bad news--and that you didn't care to have anything more to do with me after that. Of course, when people have lost all their money they can't expect people to be so nice as--as they were before.

TED MORRIS.

(_Who has stood rooted to the ground._) Then that was what that letter was about. It came just at that very time. And--and you have been thinking that of me! (_Rushes across and kneels down beside her, and takes her hands._) Miss Deane--Primrose--let me work for you. Let me take care of you all your life. I can do it now. I feel like a new man. I can face the whole College of Surgeons and the world too, and lick them both. (_His manner grows more and more enthusiastic and joyous._)

PRIMROSE DEANE.

You--you're not very sympathetic.

TED MORRIS.

I know I'm a selfish brute. I can't help it. You shan't regret it. I'll make another fortune for you and you shall have it all. Primrose, dear, I love you, I love you. I could not speak when you were rich, but now you are poor I can. You--you do care for me a little, dear.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

A little, Ted.

TED MORRIS.

Enough to be my wife?

PRIMROSE DEANE.

Yes, I think it's enough for that. (_Ted draws her face down and kisses her._) And you don't mind the money either way?

TED MORRIS.

Of course not, dear.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

And you care for me just the same, rich or poor?

TED MORRIS.

(_He sits on arm of chair beside her_.) Now and always, sweetheart, rich or poor.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

I'm glad of that. I shouldn't like to be cared for merely because I was poor. It would be so awkward if--if one wasn't poor.

TED MORRIS.

But you are poor?

PRIMROSE DEANE.

Not--not very, I'm afraid, dear.

TED MORRIS.

You said you'd lost all your money!

PRIMROSE DEANE.

No, I didn't, Ted. I said somebody might have told you I had. People do tell things about other people that are not true sometimes. (_Ted rises and stands by table, looking troubled. Primrose breaks into a ringing laugh._) You can't get out of it now, Ted. I could bring a breach of promise case against you. (_Ted still looks stern. Primrose rises and comes to him, playing with one of his coat buttons._) I've deceived and trapped you into it, haven't I? Please forgive me. It--it isn't so _very_ much, and I could give it away to the Salvation Army if you liked, or we could let Mr. Ben Dixon lay it out for us. (_Laughs._)

TED MORRIS.

You don't understand, dear.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

(_Seriously._) Yes--I do, dear. You're a silly stuck-up old thing. You never would have spoken so long as you thought I was rich--and I--(_nestling against him_) wanted you.

TED MORRIS.

(_Relenting._) They'll say I married you for your money.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

Don't you care for me sufficiently, dear, not to mind what "they" say? (_Looking him earnestly in the face._)

TED MORRIS.

(_Looks at her, and then takes her face in his hands and kisses her._) Yes, dear, forgive me. (_After this, in loverlike fashion, they commence walking about the room and talking with their arms round each other's waists._)

TED MORRIS.

Let me see. I shall pass my examination in November.

PRIMROSE DEANE.

And then we must look about for a nice little practice. We'll have one somewhere in the country, shall we?

TED MORRIS.

Yes. (_Musing._) I wish I hadn't been fool enough to let that Ben Dixon have all----

(_A knock at front door heard. Primrose runs to window and looks out._)

PRIMROSE DEANE.

Yes, I thought so. It's Mrs. Ben Dixon. (_Running to door and holding out her hand to Ted._) Let's go upstairs to Nelly. (_Ted catches her hand, and they run off, leaving the door wide open behind them. A wait. Then enters Mrs. Ben Dixon, shown in by servant._)

MRS. BEN DIXON.

Is Adam Cherry in? (_Cherry follows in._) Oh, here you are. I ain't late, am I?

ADAM CHERRY.

No--not as it happens. But I'm expecting him every minute. (_To servant_.) Ask Mrs. Wheedles to step up, will you? (_Servant goes out._)

MRS. BEN DIXON.

I was bound to stop and get a snack. This is going to be a trying scene, you know, Cherry. What does--what's the poor woman's name--Mrs. Wheedles --think about it now?

ADAM CHERRY.

Oh, much the same. She's still sure he's the man.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

I hope to goodness she's right. We shall look silly, you know, Cherry, if he isn't.

ADAM CHERRY.

And he will look silly if he is. (_Enter Mrs. Wheedles. She is nervous but tries to be confident and to behave, as she would term it, "as a lady"_) Oh here you are, Mrs. Wheedles. This is Mrs.---- (_pauses--awkwardly_.)

MRS. BEN DIXON.

Well, we're not sure who I am at present. That's just what I've come to find out. I suppose there'll be no doubt about your knowing this beauty if he is the man?

MRS. WHEEDLES.

(_Stiffly_.) I think not, madam. I was his wife for ten years.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

Ten! Ah, poor soul, no wonder you look sad. I've been it for eighteen months. I hope you mean to be firm, Mrs. Wheedles?

MRS. WHEEDLES.

I shall do my duty as a woman.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

I'm glad to hear you say so. I hope he'll get two years.

MRS. WHEEDLES.

(_Sighing._) Ah, so happy as we used to be, too.

ADAM CHERRY.

If you take my advice, you'll make him fork out something to divide between you, and then let him go.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

Now look here, Cherry, don't you suggest anything of the kind. Don't you interfere between us and our husband.

MRS. WHEEDLES.

_My_ husband, madam.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

Oh, all right, your husband. I'm sure you're quite welcome to him. I've saved a good deal more out of the wreck than I expected to, thanks to Theodore; and we shouldn't get anything out of him if we tried. He's deceived me and he's deceived Mrs. Wheedles--as simple and trusting a woman as ever breathed, I should say, from the look of her. I want to think of him as doing some hard work for once in his life.

MRS. WHEEDLES.

You're quite right, ma'am. He doesn't deserve any mercy at our hands--a good wife I was to him--none of your flighty sort. (_Begins to cry. Bell heard._)

ADAM CHERRY.

There he is, I expect. I must see him first. You just step in there (_indicating door_) and wait till I've gone out and closed the door behind me. That will be your cue. (_The two women retire towards inner room._) I shall be in the little room the other side of the passage if you want me. (_Ben Dixon's voice is heard in passage. Cherry nods and signs the two women to disappear. They do so, closing the door behind them._)

(Enter Ben Dixon. He is dressed for travelling, bag and umbrella. He enters, beaming as usual, and laying down his hat, bag, and umbrella on chair by door, advances to Cherry and shakes hands with him with one hand while holding his watch in the other. )

MR. BEN DIXON.

My dear Cherry, I've only just ten minutes. Is the lady here?

ADAM CHERRY.

Oh, yes, but--but I'm afraid she'll want to talk to you for more than ten minutes.

MR. BEN DIXON.

(_Makes a clicking noise with his tongue._) I'm really afraid I cannot spare her any more. I must catch the afternoon mail from Charing Cross.

ADAM CHERRY.

(_Quickly_.) Going abroad?

MR. BEN DIXON.

Yes, Mr. Cherry.

ADAM CHERRY.'

Anything to do with the "Anti-Alcoholic and Mineral Water Union?"

MR. BEN DIXON.

Partly so.

ADAM CHERRY.

Ah! I thought you'd be having to travel soon in connection with that affair. I'll send the lady to you at once, anyhow. (_Moving towards door at back._)

MR. BEN DIXON.

Do, Mr. Cherry; do. And if she's got the cash ready--or a cheque, it really ought not to take long, you know.

ADAM CHERRY.

I'll leave you to explain the situation to her yourself.

(_Cherry goes out slamming the door behind him. Ben Dixon goes to his bag and takes out a prospectus and crossing and standing facing windows begins to read it to himself. While he is doing this Mrs. Ben Dixon and Mrs. Wheedles enter quietly._)

MR. BEN DIXON.

(_With prospectus in his hand rehearsing to himself in soft voice what he intends to say to his supposed client._) You will be assisting, my dear madam, in saving many poor souls from destruction; you will also get 15 per cent, for your money. For myself----

(_He turns and sees the two women. The paper drops from his hand and he stands looking from one to the other like a trapped rat. For an instant he thinks of escape. He makes a step towards the door at back, but Mrs. Ben Dixon makes a movement to cut him off, then towards door Right, before which Mrs Wheedles stands. Then he makes a movement as if thinking of the window. Then seeing the hopelessness of his case and understanding the situation, he makes up his mind. With an expression of wonder and joy, he advances with outstretched arms towards Mrs. Wheedles._)

MR. BEN DIXON.

What, Gerty! And you're _not_ dead! Oh, why did they tell me that you were! Why----

MRS. BEN DIXON.

(_Intercepts him_.) Here, that won't do. That's a bit too thin, Ben. You described yourself when you married me as a bachelor.

MR. BEN DIXON.

I know I did, my dear, but I can explain--I can explain everything.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

You will have the opportunity of doing so--before the magistrate (_regarding him with concentrated disgust_), you sanctimonious old scoundrel.

MRS. WHEEDLES.

A good wife as I was to you, Henery, how could you do it?

MR. BEN DIXON.

My dear Gertrude, I can explain.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

Explain! You'll explain yourself into heaven if they're not sharp. Can you explain why you humbugged and lied an unfortunate fool of a woman into marrying you?

MRS. WHEEDLES.

And broke your poor wife's heart.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

And tried to swindle her out of every penny she possessed.

MRS. WHEEDLES.

And deserted a poor harmless babe as was the very image of him.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

I'm sorry for the child; but we'll make him pay for it, Mrs. Wheedles.

MR. BEN DIXON.

If you will only allow me to explain.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

Explain? What is there to explain? Do you deny that you are married to Mrs. Wheedles, there?

MR. BEN DIXON.

(_Virtuously_). No, Bella, I do not! No consideration of consequence to myself shall induce me to deny it. I am proud--as anyone might be--to be the husband of this noble lady! (_Crosses over to Mrs. Wheedles' side._)

MRS. BEN DIXON.

Oh, well you've been pretty modest about it of late. And do you deny that eighteen months ago you married me?

MR. BEN DIXON.

(_More in sorrow than in anger._) No, Bella, much as I may regret it--I do not, I _will_ not deny the truth.

MRS. WHEEDLES.

Why did you do it, Henery?

MR. BEN DIXON.

It was wrong of me. I own it. We are none of us perfect. The woman tempted me, and I fell.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

I tempted you?

MR. BEN DIXON.

You, Bella. I do not blame you. You loved me--at least you said you did--and you dangled your purse before me. I thought of all the good that I could do to others with your money. I always do think of others--it is my weakness. I sacrificed myself for the good of humanity.

MRS. BEN DIXON.

(_Too staggered for words_). Well, I'm----

MRS. WHEEDLES.

You never thought of poor _me_, Henery.

MR. BEN DIXON.