ACT IV

SCENE: _BROXOPP is back at No. 26. The room looks much the same as it did those many years ago, but it has been improved by one or two pieces of furniture saved from the wreck._

_The BROXOPPS are out, and SIR ROGER TENTERDEN is waiting for the return of one of them. He is getting impatient. He looks at his watch and decides that he can wait no longer. He picks up his hat, and is on his way to the door, when NANCY comes in with some parcels in a string bag._

* * * * *

NANCY (_taken by surprise_). Oh, how you startled me!... Why, it’s Sir Roger!

TENTERDEN. I must apologise——

NANCY (_smiling_). So must I. I’ve been shopping. And it’s the maid’s afternoon out.

TENTERDEN (_a little blankly_). Oh—ah—yes. They told me down below to come up and—ah——

NANCY. That’s right. I just went out to get some kidneys. (_She holds up a parcel, and SIR ROGER shudders._) I haven’t bought kidneys for I don’t know how many years; it feels quite strange. Do come and sit down. How’s Iris? We haven’t seen her lately. (_She leads the way to the table and puts the bag down on it._)

TENTERDEN. Well, it was really about Iris that I ventured to come and see you so informally, Mrs. Chillingham. I happened to have a business appointment just across the road, and—ah——

NANCY. How nice of you!

TENTERDEN. Is Iris quite well?

NANCY. Oh, I think so. Jack seems to be very busy. We have a note from him every now and then saying that they will come and see us when his picture is finished.

TENTERDEN. Ah! So he’s painting. Excellent.

NANCY. They’ve a studio in St. John’s Wood. But surely Iris must have told you?

TENTERDEN. I assure you, Mrs. Chillingham, that Iris has not condescended to communicate with me since—ah——

NANCY. Since we lost all our money.

TENTERDEN. Since that very unfortunate Excelsior business. Upon my word, I don’t know what the City is coming to nowadays. With so many rogues about, it is almost impossible for a gentleman to make an honest living. However, things have been looking up lately. (_Smiling to himself_) Oh yes, looking up—decidedly. But then I knew they would. I only wish, my dear Mrs. Chillingham, that your husband could have been participating in my good fortune.

NANCY. Well, we had no money left, you see.

TENTERDEN (_holding up a hand_). Don’t think I am blaming your husband. Pray don’t think that. I assure you, I quite understand. And so Jack is painting? Making quite a good living by it, what? You relieve my mind considerably, Mrs. Chillingham. I shall go away happy now. I shouldn’t have liked to think that my daughter was uncomfortable. What a thing it is to be born with such a gift! Lucky Jack! And Mr. Chillingham, I trust, quite well?

NANCY. Very well indeed, thank you. He hasn’t looked so well for a long time.

TENTERDEN. Excellent, excellent. And making his fortune again, I’ve no doubt. I’m delighted to hear it. Well, Mrs. Chillingham, I must be getting on. I am most relieved to hear your good news. Remember me to your husband, please, and tell him that if, at any time, he wants a good investment, I shall only be too delighted to be of any service. No, don’t thank me. I should be only too glad to. It would be a privilege. (_He shakes her warmly by the hand_) Good-bye, good-bye.

[_He goes out magnificently._

(_As soon as she has recovered, NANCY takes off her hat and goes to the table to work. She is drawing an advertisement for BROXOPP, as we can see by the way she bites her pencil and frowns to herself._

_A cheerful voice, singing a song without words, is heard outside, and the GREAT ONE comes in. He is wearing the old sombrero—the Broxopp hat—and (a novelty this) a pale grey tail-coat and trousers. He carries two or three parcels in his hand._)

BROXOPP. Nancy!

NANCY (_jumping up_). Jim!

BROXOPP. My darling! Just wait a moment till I put down these parcels.... Now then! (_He holds out his arms and she comes to him. After he has kissed her, he says solemnly_) I’ve thanked Heaven every day since we’ve been here that I can kiss you now without being observed by butlers. Another one! (_He kisses her again, and then holds her at arms’ length_) All right?

NANCY. Of course I am.

BROXOPP (_taking off his hat_). I met Sir Roger just outside.

NANCY. Did you speak to him?

BROXOPP. I said “Hallo!” and he said, “Ah, Chillingham, Chillingham!” Has he been here?

NANCY. Just to ask after Iris and (_smiling_) to say how glad he was that you were making your fortune again.

BROXOPP. Did you tell him that I was making my fortune again?

NANCY. He told himself. I didn’t say anything.

BROXOPP. Well, it’s true. I’m going to. And what have _you_ been doing?

NANCY. Shopping. And—(_looking rather sadly at her drawing_)—and Ajax. (_She sits down to it again._)

BROXOPP. Ajax?

NANCY. Ajax defying the lightning.

BROXOPP (_pleased_). Ah, that was a good idea, wasn’t it? (_Declaiming_) “Ajax defied the lightning. Why? Because he knew that he was insured against fire with the West End Insurance Company.” (_Going over to her work_) Have you been doing that for me?

NANCY. Yes, darling, but I can’t get Ajax properly. He doesn’t look as though he’s defying anything.

BROXOPP (_looking at Ajax_). No, he doesn’t, does he? Yet what a touch you had with suspenders in the old days!

NANCY (_sadly_). I think suspenders must be easier than Ajaxes—unless, perhaps, it’s because I’m getting old.

BROXOPP (_indignantly_). Old? You get younger every day.

NANCY. Of course, in a way it’s fun beginning all over again——

BROXOPP. Fun! It’s Life! Did you ever hear of a man called Stephenson? He invented the first steam-engine. He said, “To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.” Just what I’ve always said myself. Going there is better fun than getting there. We got there once, Nancy, and now we are going there again.

NANCY. But we’re twenty-five years older.

BROXOPP. And twenty-five years wiser, and twenty-five years more in love with each other.

NANCY. Yes, but what I’m rather afraid of is that we’ve had—well, fifteen years of _spending_ money, and——

BROXOPP. You needn’t be afraid. We’re going to have money to spend again. But we’ll have the fun of making it again first. (_With an air_) Madam, you see before you The Great Chillingham!... (_A little hurt_) You don’t say anything.

NANCY (_at her drawing again_). Darling! (_But how she would have flown to him twenty-five years ago!_)

BROXOPP. Perhaps it is as well. The Great Chillingham is not yet before you. I spoke too soon. (_He begins to undo the parcels._)

NANCY (_mechanically_). Yes, darling.

BROXOPP. Wait! (_He opens the parcels—a Chillingham grey hat and a Chillingham pink tie are disclosed_) Permit me, madam, to introduce to you the Chillingham hat and the Chillingham tie! (_He holds them up._)

NANCY (_wistfully_). There has never been more than one Broxopp baby!

BROXOPP. This is not babyness; it’s business. I called on the Aquavim people to-day—the Brain Tonic for Tired Workers. I announced that I was willing to undertake the entire management and reconstruction of their business for them. They declined. I then said that temporarily, and until greater opportunities offered, I might be induced to advertise their poison for them. They replied that they no longer wrote their own advertisements; they were written for them by eminent authors, actors, painters, soldiers, and statesmen, in exchange for a few bottles and the publicity which it brought them. I said modestly that, if it came to that, I myself was at one time not unknown in the world of commerce. The manager looked at my card again, and regretted that he could not seem to recall the name of Chillingham. That opened my eyes, Nancy, and I decided that all the world should know (_putting on the bowler hat and striking an attitude_) The Great Chillingham! But you’ll see it better directly, when I’ve got the tie on.

NANCY (_going to him_). Say you don’t regret Broxopp very much!

BROXOPP. Does an artist regret selling a picture after he has painted it? I made the name of Broxopp, and when I had made it, I sold it. Now I’m going to make the name of Chillingham. I can make any name—with you helping me, Nancy.

NANCY (_hopefully_). Of course you can. (_Twenty-five years ago how certain she would have been!_) Have you decided what we shall make the name of Chillingham famous about?

BROXOPP (_offhand_). Well, well, there’s no hurry. I shall find something. I shall think of something directly. Don’t let us be in a hurry. (_Taking off his hat and regarding it_) I think the new hat is striking—don’t you? But keep the old one, Nancy. When the story of my life comes to be written, the author may wish to see it personally. Well, I’ll go and put the tie on.... But I was forgetting. Who do you think I saw to-day?

NANCY (_eagerly_). Not Jack?

BROXOPP. Jack.

NANCY. But why didn’t you tell me? How is he? How is he looking?

BROXOPP. You’ll see for yourself directly. He and Iris are coming round this afternoon.

NANCY. How nice! Then I suppose his picture is finished. How is Iris?

BROXOPP. He didn’t tell me anything, except that he was coming. We were both of us in a hurry. Well, I’ll go and put on this tie. On this day The Great Chillingham was born. [_BROXOPP goes out._

(_NANCY returns to Ajax, but she has hardly begun to do anything to it when there is a gentle tap at the door._)

NANCY. Come in!

IRIS (_her head round the door_). May I come in?

NANCY. Oh, Iris! And I’m not dressed or anything. (_She gets up._)

IRIS. Well, I’m not very grand myself. (_Kissing her_) You look as young as ever, Nancy. Is Jack here?

NANCY. No. He’s coming, isn’t he?

IRIS. He was going to meet me here. (_Looking round the room she says sadly_) Oh, Nancy!

NANCY. Why “Oh, Nancy!”?

IRIS. To see you in this room—after what you’re accustomed to.

NANCY (_smiling_). But I’m accustomed to this. This is where we lived before Jack was born.

IRIS. I know. And now Jack and I have brought you back to it.... Do you forgive me?

NANCY. I shan’t if you talk so foolishly.

IRIS. You’ll never forgive Father, of course. Neither shall I. I told him so.

NANCY. Yes. I’m not sure that you ought to have.... You see, Jim wasn’t happy at the Manor House. I thought at first that he might manage to be, but he wasn’t. And now here we are, dear, and Jim is as happy as can be.

IRIS. And is Nancy?

NANCY (_a little sadly_). Well, of course, I do love the country. (_With a sudden smile_) But this is fun, you know. It’s like a second honeymoon.

IRIS. Oh, Nancy!... And how is Daddy Broxopp getting on?

NANCY. Oh, we shall be all right. He’ll get hold of some idea soon. Come and take off your hat. You mustn’t be a visitor. (_There is a knock at the door_) There! That’s Jack!

_Enter JACK._

JACK (_announcing himself_). The Return of the Prodigal!

NANCY. Oh, Jack, how nice to see you again, dear!

JACK (_kissing her_). How _are_ you, darling? You look remarkably blooming. (_Shaking hands with IRIS_) How do you do, madam?

IRIS. How do you do, sir?

NANCY. Iris is just coming into my room. We won’t be long.

JACK. Right. Where’s Dad?

NANCY. He’ll be here in a moment.

JACK. Good man. (_He opens the door for them. To IRIS_) You haven’t broken the bad news yet?

IRIS. No.

NANCY. Jack! There’s nothing——?

IRIS (_smiling_). It’s all right, dear. It’s only a little discovery we’ve made.

NANCY. There are plenty of discoveries to be made when you are poor.

[_NANCY and IRIS go out together._

(_JACK wanders round the room and comes to the unfinished Ajax on the table._)

JACK (_catching sight of it_). Good heavens! who’s this? (_Looking at it carefully_) It can’t be anybody at the Club.

(_Enter BROXOPP, in hat and tie, with a terrific air. The GREAT CHILLINGHAM! He pulls up at seeing only JACK._)

BROXOPP. Hallo, boy. So you’ve come.

JACK. Hallo, Dad.

BROXOPP. Iris here?

JACK. Yes, she’s in with mother.

BROXOPP. How are you getting on? We haven’t seen much of you lately.

JACK. Well, we’ve all been working so hard. (_Going up to him_) You’re looking extraordinarily bright, Dad. (_He puts an arm affectionately round his father’s shoulder and fingers the Chillingham tie_) Who’s your lady friend?

BROXOPP (_with dignity_). Have you never heard of the Chillingham tie, boy?

JACK. Never. Is that it?

BROXOPP. It is. (_Simply_) It will be heard of one day.

JACK (_smiling_). I’m sure it will. I can almost hear it now. (_Patting him affectionately_) Dear old Dad—I’ve been a rotten son to you, haven’t I? (_He drops into a chair._)

BROXOPP (_considering it fairly_). No, I won’t say that, Jack. You were a very good son to me when you were a baby. You did a lot for the Broxopp business, and I used to like telling people in the City all the funny little things you said. Besides, you made your mother very happy. And then, when you were growing up, I used to enjoy talking about my boy at Eton and my boy at Oxford. One way and another I’ve got a good deal of happiness out of you.

JACK. And then, when I was grown up, you suddenly found that I was a selfish beast.

BROXOPP. You can’t expect father and son to see things the same way. One or the other has got to be selfish. It’s generally the father.... Well, and how’s the picture? Finished?

JACK. Wait till Iris comes in. We’ve decided to tell you our sad story hand in hand. Besides, while we’ve got the chance, there’s something I want you to tell _me_.

BROXOPP. Well, what is it?

JACK. Well, then—as man to man—how are you getting on?

BROXOPP. As man to man, Jack, I am really happy again.

JACK. Yes, I know, but I didn’t ask if you were happy. I asked you how you were getting on.

BROXOPP (_refusing to be cornered_). This is the life I like, my boy. It’s harder than it was when I first began, but I made good once, and I can do it again. (_Thumping the table_) I like doing it.

JACK (_plaintively_). Yes, but you still haven’t told me how you are getting on.

BROXOPP. Don’t you worry about _me_. I’ll make my fortune again long before you make yours with painting.

JACK. Yes, you might well do that.... Look here, you gave me £500 a year out of the wreck. Did you leave anything for yourself?

BROXOPP. Of course I did. Don’t you worry about me. The moment will come and I shall seize it. Just at present I am looking round. Don’t you worry about _me_.

JACK. Well, all I can say is you’re a sportsman, and good luck to you.

_NANCY and IRIS come in._

IRIS. Hallo, Daddy Broxopp.

BROXOPP (_kissing her_). Hallo, my girl. You haven’t called me that for a long time.

IRIS. I know. Let’s try and forget that. Are you going to forgive me? She has.

BROXOPP. Forgive you for what?

IRIS. Well, for not having been an orphan for one thing.

NANCY (_shaking her head at her with a smile_). Iris!

IRIS. And for putting a lot of nonsense into Jack’s head, and making an utter mess of things.

JACK. My dear girl, any nonsense in my head came there of itself; it wasn’t put in by you.

IRIS. Well, there it was, anyhow. The fact is, Daddy Broxopp, we’ve made a discovery in the last few months.

BROXOPP. Hallo, what’s that?

IRIS. Well, it’s rather important. Are you ready, Jack? (_Taking JACK’S hand_) We have discovered——

JACK. Once, finally and for all——

IRIS. That Jack Chillingham——

JACK. _Né_ Broxopp——

IRIS. Cannot paint.

JACK. He cannot paint.

JACK and IRIS (_together_). He cannot, cannot paint.

NANCY (_knowing what it feels like_). Oh, Jack, what a disappointment for you!

BROXOPP. How did you discover it, boy?

JACK. By regarding my latest masterpiece in a dispassionate light. You ought to have seen it, Dad. It was called “The First Meeting of Henry V. with Katherine of France.”

IRIS. I sat for Katherine.

JACK. She also stood for Henry V. I wish you had seen her as Henry V.; it would have been a surprise for you.

IRIS. I was jolly good.

JACK. It was going to be my Academy picture. That was why I chose that subject. It was the dullest I could think of. Unfortunately, when I had finished it, I regarded it in a dispassionate light, and—(_frankly_) it was rotten.

IRIS. Very rotten.

JACK. Very, very rotten.

NANCY. Oh, poor Jack! I understand how you must have felt.

JACK. Well, then, we put our heads together.

IRIS (_leaning her head against his_). Like this.

JACK. And decided that we were taking your money under false pretences.

IRIS. Because, you see, he cannot paint.

JACK. He cannot paint.

JACK and IRIS (_together_). He cannot, cannot paint.

BROXOPP. Well, what are you going to do, then?

IRIS (_surprised_). Give you back your money, of course.

BROXOPP. Don’t be silly. I didn’t mean that. What work are you going to do?

JACK (_wandering round the room_). Well, that’s rather the question. Iris thought—(_He stops suddenly at the sight of his mother’s drawing_) Oh, Lord, here’s this again. What on earth——?

BROXOPP (_off-handedly_). Just a rough sketch for an advertisement—a little idea of mine—Ajax defying the lightning—your mother was—— Well, then, Jack, you——

JACK (_looking up at his mother reproachfully_). Mother, darling!

NANCY. Oh, Jack, Ajaxes are so hard.

JACK (_sitting down and picking up the pencil_). Oh, but—Iris, you’ll have to stand for Ajax. Imagine Dad’s the lightning and defy him like the dickens. (_Beginning to draw_) Right foot out a bit more. Hands behind the back, I think. Keep the head well up—as though you thought nothing of him.

IRIS. Daddy Broxopp, I defy you. (_She gives a glance at JACK to make sure he is not looking, blows a hasty kiss to BROXOPP, and hastily resumes her defiant attitude._)

JACK (_drawing_). You’d find yourself much safer with a model, Mother, even for a rough sketch. You get so much more life into it.

NANCY. Oh, Jack, I wish I could draw like that.

IRIS. He isn’t bad, is he?

JACK (_still at it_). Keep your head up.... I can’t draw—but when I say I can’t draw, I don’t mean the same as when I say I can’t paint. You see—Listen!

(_A loud knocking is heard at the outer door._)

IRIS (_nodding her head at BROXOPP_). That’s you, Daddy Broxopp. You did the lightning so well that you’ve brought on the thunder.

NANCY. Oh, I’d better go. The maid’s out.

JACK (_getting up_). No, you don’t; I’ll go. It’s Dad’s lady friend—I’ll bet you what you like—come to see his tie. Perhaps I can buy her off on the mat.

[_He goes out._

IRIS (_relaxing_). Well, I suppose he won’t want Ajax any more. (_She goes over to look at the sketch_) Doesn’t he draw nicely? (_To BROXOPP_) That squiggly bit is you. (_Looking from one to the other_) No, I shouldn’t recognise you.

BROXOPP (_picking up the sketch_). Yes, that’s the way to draw. (_To NANCY_) All the same, darling, I shall never forget the way you drew those suspenders in the old days. There was something about them——

_JACK and MISS JOHNS come in._

JACK (_protesting as he comes in_). Oh, but I assure you I remember you perfectly. Mother, this is Miss Johns. You remember her, don’t you? (_He doesn’t himself at all._) She was—er—in the old days—don’t you remember——?

NANCY (_holding out her hand_). How do you do, Miss Johns? It’s very nice of you to come and see us now. (_Hopefully to BROXOPP_) Jim, you remember Miss Johns?

BROXOPP (_the only one who does, and he can’t place her for the moment_). Delighted to see you again, Miss Johns. Of course, I remember you perfectly. (_He looks at her with a puzzled expression._)

MISS JOHNS. It’s very good of you to remember me, Mr. Broxopp—I mean Chillingham. I can hardly expect you to. I only just came because I’m your neighbour, and—(_looking round her awkwardly_)—but perhaps you’d rather I——

BROXOPP. Oh, not at all. You know Jack’s wife, don’t you? (_They bow to each other._) Sit down and tell us what you have been doing lately.

(_She sits down. JACK wanders back to his sketch and IRIS goes with him, looking over his shoulder as he touches it up._)

MISS JOHNS. You know, I don’t believe you do remember me, Mr. Broxopp—I beg your pardon, I mean Mr. Chillingham.

BROXOPP (_grimly_). I don’t, but I’m going to. (_He looks at her with a frown._)

NANCY (_kindly, as MISS JOHNS is obviously getting uncomfortable under BROXOPP’S gaze_). Darling one——

BROXOPP. Wait! (_Thumping his hand with his fist_) I’ve got it! (_Pointing to her_) You interviewed me on that day—of course, I remember you now.

MISS JOHNS. Oh, Mr. Brox—Oh, how wonderful of you to remember when you must have been interviewed so often.

BROXOPP. Yes, but you were the last person to interview The Great Broxopp. You heard that I had changed my name?

MISS JOHNS. Oh, I was so sorry! I heard about it all, and how you——

BROXOPP. Oh, well, you mustn’t pity us too much. We’re quite happy here, aren’t we, Nancy?

NANCY. This is where we began, you know, Miss Johns.

BROXOPP. Why, of course she knows. I remember your saying that you lived on the floor below. And are you still on the same paper?

MISS JOHNS. Yes, but—er—— (_She is obviously uncomfortable._)

BROXOPP. But they don’t want an interview with The Great Chillingham? (_With utter confidence_) They will, Miss Johns, they will.

MISS JOHNS (_enthusiastically_). Oh, I’m sure they will.

BROXOPP (_suddenly_). How’s your brother?

MISS JOHNS (_very much flattered_). Oh, do you remember him? How wonderful you are!

BROXOPP (_struggling with his memories_). Yes—I remember. He had some invention—what was it?—a Chicken Food, wasn’t it?

MISS JOHNS. Yes, that was it. Fancy you remembering!

BROXOPP. Oh, I have a wonderful memory. My wife would tell you. (_Garrulously_) Yes, I remember your telling me about this food which he had invented. You wanted me to take it up. I said—now, what was it I said?—I said——

JACK (_looking up alertly_). What’s happened to that Chicken Food?

MISS JOHNS. Er—nothing. He hadn’t the money—he didn’t know how——

BROXOPP (_still talking_). “Yes,” I said, “if you had come to me twenty years earlier——”

JACK (_sharply_). Where is your brother now? In the country?

MISS JOHNS (_frightened_). Yes!

JACK. Can you get him up to London?

MISS JOHNS. Y—yes. I think——

IRIS (_excitedly_). Jack!

BROXOPP. What is it, boy?

JACK. How far away is it? Can you get him up at once? This evening?

MISS JOHNS. I—I think—it’s in Surrey——

JACK. Send him a telegram now—don’t be afraid of a long one—I’m paying for it. (_Taking out half-a-crown_) Here you are. (_Going with her to the door_) That’s right, now, off you go. Remember, I’ve got to see him to-night. Got that? Good!

[_She goes out, overwhelmed._

NANCY (_the hostess_). Jack, dear!

BROXOPP. What is it, boy?

JACK. You said the moment would come. It has come. (_In the BROXOPP manner_) Chillingham’s Cheese for Chickens!

IRIS (_eagerly_). Yes, yes! What fun!

BROXOPP. Are you suggesting that I should take up this food—patent it—put it on the market?

JACK. I—you—we—all of us. You’re in it, Iris?

IRIS. Rather!

BROXOPP. But—but——

JACK. Chillingham’s Cheese for Chickens. It’s the idea of a century.

NANCY. But do chickens like cheese?

IRIS (_firmly_). They’ve got to like this.

BROXOPP (_doubtfully_). Yes, yes, why cheese, boy?

JACK. Why not?

BROXOPP. Er—well——

JACK. We’ll have a hen sitting on an enormous egg—this is where _I_ come in, drawing the posters. Above, Chillingham’s Cheese for Chickens. Underneath, Makes Hens Lay.

BROXOPP. Does it make them lay? I thought Chicken Food only made chickens grow.

JACK (_grimly_). If we say that it makes them lay, it makes them lay.

IRIS. It’s a question of faith, Daddy Broxopp. If the hen knows you have faith in her, she will respond. She’s jolly well got to.

JACK. That’s right. We’re not going to stand any nonsense from a Buff Orpington.

BROXOPP. Jack, are you serious about this?

JACK (_surprised_). Serious? Good Lord, yes.

BROXOPP (_nervously_). It’s a risk. What do you say, Nancy?

NANCY. I’m used to risks, dear.

JACK (_excitedly_). Of course it’s a risk. That’s what makes it such fun. By Jove, to be really doing something at last! Makes Hens Lay! A Poultry Farm in every back-garden! Eggs on every breakfast-table. Chillingham eggs!

IRIS. Chillingham and bacon for breakfast, Daddy Broxopp.

BROXOPP (_shaking his head_). It’s a risk. It will want a lot of capital. What do you say, Nancy?

NANCY. We’ve got a little left.

IRIS. There’s what you gave Jack. We can do it on that, can’t we?

JACK. Of course we can.

BROXOPP (_unnerved_). I—I must think it over. One wants to think things over. There’s no hurry, after all. One naturally wants to look round a little before deciding. _If_ we decide on this, Iris, then——

JACK. Who was that fellow you were so keen on—came over from the office when you were ill—young chap—wrote your letters for you—what was his name?

BROXOPP. Driver?

JACK. Driver. That’s the chap. How can I get hold of him? Is he still at the office?

BROXOPP. They’d know his address, anyhow.

JACK. He’s good, isn’t he?

BROXOPP. Excellent. You remember, Nancy, my telling you that I was going to promote him as soon as——

IRIS. What do you want him for?

JACK. Business manager. Terribly keen. We must have somebody like that.... What about offices?

BROXOPP (_vaguely_). Offices?

NANCY. We went to Pritchard the agents. In Victoria Street somewhere——

JACK (_getting into his hat and coat_). That’s _your_ job, Iris. Get orders for half-a-dozen—three to four rooms, I should think. Central. We’d better make the stuff down at this chap’s place to start with—enlarge whatever plant he’s got. I’ll go after Driver, while you’re Pritcharding.

IRIS (_getting her things together_). Right. Pritchard, Victoria Street. What number?

JACK. Telephone book at the chemist’s round the corner.

IRIS. Righto. (_To NANCY_) Good-bye, dear.

JACK (_to NANCY_). We shall have supper with you, dear, so see that there’s some food. So will Miss Johns and her brother, probably. Food for six at eight, say. But we’ll be back before that, I expect. So long. (_He goes to the door._)

IRIS. Good-bye, Daddy Broxopp. We’re making our fortune again.

BROXOPP (_still bewildered_). Yes, but, Jack—Jack, you mustn’t——

JACK (_a last shout from the passage_). That’s all right, Dad, leave it to me!

(_The door slams. They are gone. BROXOPP and NANCY are alone together. He is unhappy; she feels that he is unhappy. They sit there, saying nothing...._)

BROXOPP (_almost to himself_). What did I call myself? The Great Chillingham. (_With a sad, disillusioned little laugh_) The Great Chillingham!

NANCY (_comforting him_). Darling!

BROXOPP. I said that the moment would come. It came. I said that I would seize it. (_He shrugs his shoulders._)

NANCY. You were going to. Jack was too quick for you.

BROXOPP. No. I was afraid.... I’m getting old.... I talk and I talk, and then when the moment comes—(_Sadly_) The Great Chillingham!

NANCY. You wanted to think it over—of course you did.

BROXOPP. Was there ever a Great Broxopp? Or was it just a fluke, Nancy, twenty-five years ago?

NANCY. No, no!

BROXOPP. Then why——?

NANCY (_with a sigh_). It was twenty-five years ago.

BROXOPP. Yes. Never again. On this day The Great Chillingham died. (_He drops his head into his hands._)

NANCY. But something else was born. (_He shakes his head._) (_She says quietly_) Yes, Chillingham—and Son.

(_Slowly he raises his head and looks at her. His eyes begin to light up. He rises, slowly. There is a smile about his mouth now. He is seeing himself as the Head of CHILLINGHAM AND SON. Look—he is striking an attitude! All is saved. NANCY regards him fondly. CHILLINGHAM AND SON._)

THE DOVER ROAD

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS

PEOPLE IN THE PLAY

THE HOUSE

Dominic. The Staff. Mr. Latimer.

THE GUESTS

Leonard. Anne. Eustasia. Nicholas.

* * * * *

_The Scene is the reception-room of MR. LATIMER’S house, a little way off the Dover Road._

* * * * *

The first performance of this play in London took place at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, on June 7, 1922, with the following cast:

_Dominic_ Allan Aynesworth. _Mr. Latimer_ Henry Ainley. _Leonard_ Nicholas Hannen. _Anne_ Nancy Atkin. _Eustasia_ Athene Seyler. _Nicholas_ John Deverell.

THE DOVER ROAD