Part 2

BROWN. I feel an intense desire to cultivate that gentleman’s acquaintance; in short, so intense is my desire to cultivate that gentleman’s acquaintance, that I’ll instantly run after him! No—yes! I will, though I know what the result will be, namely, another shower, and nankeens soaked again. (_running towards L., again meets O’WALKER, who again nearly upsets him_)

O’WALKER. (L.) Full again! it’s a most extraordinary thing! (_twirling his umbrella round and sprinkling the wet over BROWN, who tries to advance towards him_) I repeat It’s a most extraordinary thing! (_twirling umbrella and sprinkling BROWN again, who is advancing on the other side of him_) It really seems as if the entire population of the metropolis was animated by a frantic desire to go to Pimlico to-day!

BROWN. (_R., to O’WALKER_) Sir, you have afforded me considerable amusement, and I thank you—I’d embrace you, only I might give you cold, being, as you see, wet through.

O’WALKER (L.) I see you are, those nankeens of yours are the most uncomfortable looking things I ever saw, however, rather than disappoint you I’ll wait till you’re dry—I don’t know why I should—but I will.

BROWN. (R.) That tailor of yours, sir, hadn’t the ghost of a chance with you—you didn’t leave him a leg to stand on.

O’WALKER. No, I flatter myself I rather cooked his goose.

BROWN. Good, good, good again: if you will insist upon making yourself so damned agreeable, I shall be obliged to embrace you before I _am_ dry. I am the last man in the world to intrude upon any one, but if upon emerging into yonder crowded thoroughfare, our paths happen to lay in the same direction, we will walk together, and by the time we part, as I shall probably be dry, I can embrace you.

O’WALKER. (_impatiently_) Oh! confound it—there—(_flinging his arms round BROWN_) and now I’m off to Pimlico—what say you?

BROWN. I say wherever you go—Brown goes too. (_taking O’WALKER’S arm_)

O’WALKER. Brown!

BROWN. Brown! Barbican Brown! but perhaps you’ll have no objection to my taking Little Windmill Street in my way?

O’WALKER. (_aside_) Brown—Little Windmill Street!

BROWN. Just to buy a few cubas. (_taking out cigar case_)

O’WALKER. (_aside_) Brown—Little Windmill Street—cubas. (_snatches cigar case out of BROWN’S hand—takes out a cuba and examines it, aside_) This is one of Amelia Jones’s cubas—I’ll swear to it—he’s a Brown—he says he’s a Brown, and if a Brown, why not the “fondest of Brown’s,” if I could only make him the means of getting those infernal letters of mine back—I have it. (_aloud and suddenly seizing BROWN’S hand_) Brown, it is my painful duty instantly to plunge a dagger into your manly bosom. (_BROWN starts_) Don’t be alarmed, I speak figuratively—in other words—(_in a loud and mysterious whisper_) go elsewhere for your cubas.

BROWN. Ah!

O’WALKER. (_aside_) It _is_ the fondest of Brown’s. (_aloud in the same low earnest tone_) Brown, you are deceived.

BROWN. What do you mean?

O’WALKER. I mean that Amelia Jones——

BROWN. Hush!

O’WALKER. I repeat, that Amelia Jones.

BROWN. Hush! (_looking about him and then to O’WALKER_) don’t speak so loud—I’m afraid you’ll call me a sad dog when I unfold my tale—I shan’t be offended if you do—for I know I’m a shocking good-for-nothing rascal, but I can’t help it—that’s the melancholy part of it—I can’t help it. Listen! As I was sauntering about the West End one evening last week, I suddenly found that I had lost my way, and seeing a gentleman in a Highland dress standing outside the door of a tobacconist’s shop, in the act of taking a pinch of snuff, I accosted him and civilly asked him where I was; he didn’t think proper to reply, which I inferred from being a Highlander he didn’t understand English—consequently, I entered the shop, and there I beheld a sweet creature—I bought a cigar, and though I had never smoked before in all my life, I lighted it—I positively lighted it, and then I smoked and chatted, and chatted and smoked, till, as it was getting _rather_ late, and _I_ was getting very poorly, I took my leave of the fair creature and went home. I’m ashamed to say I was there again, the next day, and the next day, and the day after that; and as every pound of cigars I bought of her seemed to ingratiate me more and more in her good opinion, in less than a week I found I had laid in a sufficient stock to open a tobacconist’s shop of my own—in fact I became so fascinated—so charmed—so—so——

O’WALKER. Spooney!

BROWN. Exactly—so spooney—that I was on the point of asking her to become Mrs. Brown, when I suddenly recollected that I was engaged to another.

O’WALKER. Engaged to another?

BROWN. Hush! A woman who can’t live without seeing me twice a day and that I haven’t been near for a week.

O’WALKER. Then go to her, Brown, and forget the perfidious Amelia. She’s made a fool of you, Brown, nobody can look at you and doubt it.

BROWN. How?

O’WALKER. Simply because she’s engaged to be married. I happen to know the fact, because the gentleman is the friend of an intimate friend of a friend of mine, I don’t know why he should be, but he is.

BROWN. Who is he? Tell me his odious name and place of abode, in order that I may instantly repair thither and sweep him off the surface of the earth.

O’WALKER. I can’t tell you his odious name—but his letters _can_, and Amelia Jones has got half a bushel of ’em at least—so go to her at once—ask for a few pounds of her best havannahs—she’ll open a particular drawer—then you’ll see the letters.

BROWN. How do you know?

O’WALKER. Eh! Why—because the friend of my friend’s intimate friend told him so and he told me; so as I said before there you’ll see the letters—you’ll pounce down upon them, carry them off in triumph—join me here,—and then we’ll decide upon future operations.

BROWN. That’s settled already—the friend of your friend’s intimate friend—dies—and now I’m off. (_starting towards L._) Stop—(_feeling his clothes_) dry as a bone—so come to my arms. (_embraces O’WALKER and runs off L._)

O’WALKER. There he goes, what an advantage a man of his protuberant proportions has in a crowd to be sure! I shall count every minute till he comes back with the letters. What a state of nervous agitation I’m in to be sure. Goodness gracious! Dibbs! I quite forgot Dibbs. Ah, there’s an omnibus! here! conductor! stop! (_opening his umbrella and running towards L. and pushing against PATTY PECKOVER who enters with her parasol up and a pair of clogs in her hand_)

PATTY. (R.) Well, I’m sure, sir,—eh? Yes. I do declare it’s O’Walker. (_laying hold of O’WALKER by the tail of his coat and pulling him back_)

O’WALKER. (_L. without looking at her and endeavouring to make his way out_) I’ll speak to you presently, ma’am—here! conductor! stop! (_flourishing his umbrella_) Gone, of course—and this is your doing, ma’am? (_turning upon PATTY_) Eh—no—yes—it is—Patty Peckover, and more bewitching than ever.

PATTY. O’Walker! but no familiarity if you please, I’m a married woman.

O’WALKER. Married!

PATTY. Yes! at least I’m as bad—I mean as good as married.

O’WALKER. Oh—to one of your numerous cousins in the Life Guards I suppose?

PATTY. That’s no affair of yours, sir,—when you behaved like a brute to me—yes, Mr. O’Walker, brute’s the word—you didn’t imagine I was going to remain in a state of single blessedness all my life.

O’WALKER. And yet you swore you would.

PATTY. And so I did—for a whole fortnight, and then out of spite I vowed I’d marry the first man that asked me—I shouldn’t have cared who, if he’d been a baron or even a duke I’d have had him!

O’WALKER. And who is the happy man? What’s his name?

PATTY. B. B.

O’WALKER. B. B.

PATTY. Yes—I shan’t tell you any more, except that he’s made his fortune in the soap line, and says I’m absolute perfection.

O’WALKER. The soft soap line evidently. Patty, I congratulate you on your B. B., and you may as well congratulate me.—I’m going to be married.

PATTY. You! You who vowed you could never love any woman but me!

O’WALKER. No, more I did, _for a whole fortnight?_

PATTY. Well, I can’t stand chattering here any longer—I must go and look after my intended.

O’WALKER. By all means; we’ll go and look after your intended. (_opening his umbrella and offering PATTY his arm_) Come along, Patty.

PATTY. Certainly not, Mr. O’Walker. B. B.’s so dreadfully jealous, he’d do you some frightful injury to a certainty; that’s one reason—the second is——

O’WALKER. Never mind the second, the first is perfectly satisfactory: though we may be friends, we’re no longer sweethearts.

PATTY. Sweethearts, Mr. O’Walker! (_drawing herself up_)

O’WALKER. Ah! those were happy days. Greenwich in the morning——

PATTY. Greenwich, Mr. O’Walker! (_horrified_)

O’WALKER. Vauxhall in the evening——

PATTY. Vauxhall, Mr. O’Walker! (_horrified_)

O’WALKER. And then the polka—the delicious polka! (_polking with his umbrella. Band plays a polka L._)

PATTY. The polka, Mr. O’Walker, just as if _I_ ever—— (_looking at O’WALKER dancing and beginning to move her feet about suddenly_) That’s all wrong—bless the man, you never could do it right. (_snatches umbrella from O’WALKER and flings it away—dances the polka with O’WALKER, till seeing BEADLE who appears L. she escapes from O’WALKER and runs off, R._)

O’WALKER. (_suddenly_) Good gracious! Dibbs! I quite forgot that scoundrel Dibbs. (_snatches up his umbrella—opens it—starts off towards L. and runs up against BROWN who enters, L._)

BROWN. (_advancing to the front and showing his clothes wet through_) Soaked again!

O’WALKER. Well, the letters!

BROWN. I’ve got ’em; they cost me a pound of cigars, but that’s not worth thinking about. (_showing a packet of cigars_)

O’WALKER. Certainly not. (_taking cigars_) Don’t think of ’em again.

BROWN. I look upon that as money well laid out.

O’WALKER. Decidedly well laid out! (_putting the cigars into his blue bag_) Now for the letters.

BROWN. (_producing letters tied up_) Here they are. To my surprise she gave them up without the slightest hesitation, and said she was very much obliged to me for taking the rubbish away.

O’WALKER. Rubbish! Ha, ha! (_forcing a laugh_)

BROWN. Yes; it seems she has been for some time past pestered with letters from a contemptible fellow with the vulgar name of O’Walker.

O’WALKER. Ha, ha, ha! (_aside_) This is pleasant!

BROWN. Yes; he signs himself “John Horatio O’Walker,” and she requested me as a particular favour to find Walker out at once, and give Walker a horsewhipping on her account as well as my own.

O’WALKER. Ah, ah, ah! (_aside_) This is remarkably agreeable.

BROWN. I said I would, and so I will. Take me to him. I’m sorry for your friend’s intimate friend’s friend, but I’ve a duty to perform; and that duty, as I said before, is instantly to sweep O’Walker off the surface of the earth! So come along.

_Enter MRS. JELLICOE, L., with BEADLE following_.

MRS. J. (_as she enters_) I’m sure I must have dropped it here. It’s a green reticule, with sixteen shillings and fourpence halfpenny in it, besides a pair of spectacles, two bunches of keys, a packet of envelopes, two buns, a silver thimble, six Queen’s heads, a bill of the play, and half a pint of nuts.

BEADLE. All right, ma’am—I gave it to that gentleman. (_points to O’WALKER_)

MRS. J. Ah! still here, Mr.——

O’WALKER. (_very quickly and interrupting her_) Yes—yes. (_aside to her_) Don’t mention my name—you see that portly individual there— (_pointing to BROWN, who is standing with his back towards them_) Insane! sad case!—in early life fell in love with the Baron’s fair daughter, you’ve heard of her—she deceived him and married Walker, the twopenny postman, you’ve heard of him—it turned his brain—quiet as a lamb till he hears “Walker”—then raving mad in a moment!—the chances are, he’d murder me on the spot, and you too—I don’t know why he should, but he would!

MRS. J. Lud a mercy! (_looking again at BROWN_) Eh? can it be? no—yes it is— (_to O’WALKER_) that gentleman’s no more mad than you are—you’re mistaken in your man, and I’ll prove it. (_goes to BROWN and in a loud voice_) Walker!

BROWN. (_jumping round with a savage yell_) Ah!

MRS. J. (C.) Cousin Brown, don’t you know me? (_alarmed_)

BROWN. (R.) Cousin Jellicoe, delighted to see you! (_advancing to her, seizing her hands and shaking them violently_)

MRS. J. (_in a soothing tone_) Don’t agitate yourself, Barbican. I wouldn’t have touched upon such a delicate subject for the world—but I never heard a syllable about the “Baron’s fair daughter—or the twopenny postman” either till I was told of it just now by Mr.——

O’WALKER. (_interrupting her_) Exactly. (_aside to BROWN, who looks astonished_) Don’t notice what she says, poor soul—insane! sad case!—last Christmas went out without her bonnet—burning sun—snow on the ground—never recovered it! (_goes up_)

BROWN. (_pathetically and looking at MRS. J._) Poor soul!

MRS. J. And now, Cousin Brown, now that I’ve got you—(_suddenly taking his arm—BROWN rather alarmed_) we must talk over a certain little matter—in other words, my darling Fanny is only waiting for her dear godpapa’s consent to get married—isn’t she, Mr. O’Wal—— (_to O’WALKER_)

O’WALKER. (_very quickly_) Yes—yes. (_aside_) This is getting intensely exciting!

BROWN. Well, my consent shan’t be wanting, nor a wedding portion either, provided I approve of Fanny’s choice. What sort of a fellow is he—eh?

MRS. J. Judge for yourself, Cousin Brown—for there he is. (_pointing to O’WALKER_)

BROWN. Eh!—I’m delighted to hear it!— (_shaking O’WALKER’S hand_) but where’s my god-daughter?—Brown requires his god-daughter!

MRS. J. There she is! (_to FANNY, who runs in L._) Fanny, embrace your godpapa—he consents to your marriage.

FANNY. Oh, you dear, good, kind, handsome old man! (_embracing BROWN_) Why don’t you throw your arms round him too, John Horatio?

BROWN. John Horatio—Walker?

MRS. J. (_aside to him_) Yes—but no relation to the twopenny postman, on my honour.

BROWN. (_after a short pause and eyeing O’WALKER with a savage earnestness, then approaching him and in a loud whisper_) So, sir!——

O’WALKER. I very much regret that most important business with the Austrian Ambassador—— (_going_)

BROWN. (_grasping his arm and stopping him_) His Excellency must wait. So, sir, _you_ are the friend of your intimate friend’s friend after all, are you? I thank you, John Horatio, for the information, as it will enable me to redeem my promise of immediately sweeping him off the surface of the earth.

O’WALKER. Be it so, but I claim an Irishman’s right of making his last speech. (_going towards L. and speaking off_) Will any one oblige me by stopping the first omnibus that goes near the Surrey Zoological Gardens, for the purpose of conveying this gentleman back to his cage. (_pointing to BROWN_)

_Enter PATTY, L.—overhears O’WALKER._

PATTY. Who? my B. B.! (_running to BROWN_) Let any one lay a finger on my intended, if they dare! (_flourishing her clogs_)

MRS. J. Cousin Brown, your intended!—then why shouldn’t the two weddings take place together? Come, Cousin Brown, give your consent—Mr. O’Walker’s moral character will bear the strictest scrutiny.

PATTY. Like my B. B.’s. (_BROWN gives a savage laugh and looks at O’WALKER_)

FANNY. And I am the only woman he ever loved. (_goes up_)

PATTY. Like my B. B. again. (_tenderly to BROWN—goes up_)

BROWN. Indeed!—the only woman he ever loved! ha, ha, ha, ha! (_with a fierce look at O’WALKER, and slowly drawing the packet of letters from his pocket_) Of that I have abundant proof in these letters, which——

O’WALKER. (_suddenly grasping BROWN’S arm and aside to him_) Betray me and I’ll instantly acquaint your intended wife with her B. B.’s little eccentricities at a certain little tobacconist’s shop in Little Windmill Street.

BROWN. (_aside to him_) Pooh! she won’t believe you!

O’WALKER. Probably not; consequently, I shall refer her to you or rather to this letter— (_producing BROWN’S letter_) to the “loveliest of Amelias” from the “fondest of Browns.”

BROWN. Hush!—she’d tear my eyes out!—we are both standing on the edge of a frightful precipice.

O’WALKER. We are; one step more, and over you go.

BROWN. And over _you_ go.

O’WALKER. In other words, over _we_ go.

BROWN. There’s only one thing to be done—let’s exchange letters.

O’WALKER. Agreed.

BROWN. Here are yours! (_gives packet of letters to O’WALKER_)

O’WALKER. And here’s yours—(_about to give BROWN the letter, stops_) Stop! You consent to my marriage with Fanny?

BROWN. No! (_in a loud tone to O’WALKER_)

O’WALKER. Very well. Ahem! (_opening letter and about to read_)

BROWN. (_very loud_) I do consent!

O’WALKER. (_to the OTHERS_) He does consent! (_aside to BROWN and about to give him the letter_) There—(_stops_) Stop! (_aloud_) With a wedding portion of one thousand pounds?

BROWN. No—no! (_aside to O’WALKER_)

O’WALKER. Very well. Ahem! (_about to read letter_)

BROWN. Fanny shall have a thousand pounds!

O’WALKER. (_aloud to the OTHERS_) He says Fanny shall have a thousand pounds! (_slips the letter into BROWN’S hand_) Generous, liberal-minded man, allow me to embrace you—I don’t know why I should, but I do! (_embraces BROWN_)

MRS. J. And me too, cousin! (_ditto_)

FANNY. And me, godpapa! (_ditto_)

PATTY. And me too, B. B.! (_ditto_)

BROWN. And now what say you to a comfortable dinner, by way of a wind up?

O’WALKER. Agreed, and what’s more, you shall have the pleasure of paying for it. (_BROWN about to remonstrate_) Nay, I insist upon it—I don’t know why I should, but I do!

BROWN. With all my heart. (_looking at his watch_) Let me see—ten minutes past three——

O’WALKER. Past three! (_snatching BROWN’S watch out of his pocket and looking at it_) It is!—that scoundrel Dibbs—I’m ruined!—and yet—I may catch him yet—ah! (_thrusting BROWN’S watch into fob and looking towards L._) Yes—there goes one—here, conductor—stop! stop! (_opens his umbrella and runs hastily, L., comes in contact with SCHNIPPS_)

O’WALKER. My tailor, again! It never rains but it pours—I don’t know why it shouldn’t, but it don’t! Oh, Dibbs!—that scoundrel Dibbs!

SCHNIPPS. Dibbs! Oh, yes—he was the other bad gustomer I was talking about, but I got to Bimligo just in time to stop him.

O’WALKER. Stop him?

SCHNIPPS. Yes, as he was getting into a cab; de police have got him and everybody will have dere money back.

O’WALKER. Schnipps, come to my arms, but for you I should have lost a fortune; and to prove my gratitude, you shall instantly make me thirteen suits of clothes, and what’s more, you shall put them down on the bill. (_SCHNIPPS about to remonstrate_) Not a word! I’m indebted to you—I’ve paid you and I’m satisfied—I don’t know why I should be, but I am!

BROWN. Then, as I said before——

VOICE. (_outside_) Now then—Islington! Holloway!

BROWN. There’s the Holloway omnibus, come along!

O’WALKER. Never mind, we’ll take a cab, there are only five of us—the three ladies inside, myself on the box, and you on the top, that’s settled—now we’re off!—no we ain’t—one moment—one word of advice before we part—instead of “Waiting for an Omnibus in the Lowther Arcade on a Rainy Day” recollect there is an establishment a few doors higher up, whose hospitable doors open every evening at seven o’clock to all classes of Her Majesty’s subjects, who’ve got money enough to pay for their admission—I needn’t say, I mean the Theatre Royal, Adelphi!

R. L. SCHNIPPS. MRS. JELLICOE. O’WALKER. FANNY. BROWN. PATTY.

_Curtain._

Printed by Thomas Scott, 1, Warwick Court, Holborn.

Transcriber’s Note

This transcription is based on two sets of scans of the Lacy edition, both of which are available through the Hathi Digital Library. The first set is from a copy held by the University of Iowa:

https://hdl.handle.net/2027/iau.31858023944576

The second set is from a copy of Volume 15 of Lacy’s Acting Edition of Plays held by the University of Michigan, starting at page 323 of the scans:

https://hdl.handle.net/2027/mdp.39015067453046

Because of issues related to publication, the condition of the scanned copies, and the scanning process itself, both sets were used for the transcription.

The following changes were made to the text:

• Title page: _Milliner’s Holiday_—Changed to “_Milliners’ Holiday_”, the correct title of the play.

• p. 5: As you say, it doesn’t rain here—I don’t know why it should’nt, but it doesn’t!—Changed “should’nt” to “shouldn’t”.

• p. 8: FANNY. (R ) Ask mamma!—Added a period after “R”.

• p. 12: O’WALKER. (_impatiently_) Oh) confound it—there—Changed closing parenthesis after “Oh” to an exclamation mark.

• p. 12: Ill swear to it—Change “Ill” to “I’ll”.

• p. 14: That’s no affair of your’s, sir—Changed “your’s” to “yours”.

• p. 14: B. B’s. so dreadfully jealous—Changed “B. B’s” to “B. B.’s”.

• p. 18: I’ve paid you and I’m saisfied—Changed “saisfied” to “satisfied”.