<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<p class="center">
<SPAN href="#INTRODUCTORY_NOTE">INTRODUCTORY NOTE</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#THE_CABINET_MINISTER">THE CABINET MINISTER</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#ADVERTISEMENTS">ADVERTISEMENTS</SPAN><br/>
<SPAN href="#TNOTE">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</SPAN><br/></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/cover.jpg" height-obs="654" width-obs="400" title="Cover" alt="The Cabinet Minister [Decorative Illustration] Arthur W. Pinero" /></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h1><i>THE CABINET MINISTER</i></h1>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><i>THE PLAYS OF ARTHUR W. PINERO.</i></h2>
<p class="center">IN MONTHLY VOLUMES.</p>
<p class="center">Price <i>1s. 6d.</i>, paper; <i>2s. 6d.</i>, cloth.</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p class="hang">1. <i><span class="u">The Times.</span> A Comedy in Four Acts.</i></p>
<p class="hang">2. <i><span class="u">The Profligate.</span> A Play in Four Acts.
With a Portrait, and a Preface by Malcolm
C. Salaman.</i></p>
<p class="hang">3. <i><span class="u">The Cabinet Minister.</span> A Farce in Four
Acts. With an Introductory Note by Malcolm
C. Salaman.</i></p>
<p class="hang">4. <i><span class="u">The Hobby Horse.</span> <span class="right2">[Ready February.</span></i></p>
<p><i>To be followed by "Lady Bountiful," "Dandy
Dick," "The Magistrate," "The Schoolmistress," "The
Weaker Sex," "Lords and Commons," "The Squire,"
and "Sweet Lavender."</i></p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h1>THE CABINET MINISTER<br/></h1>
<p class="center"><big>A FARCE<br/><br/>
In Four Acts<br/><br/>
By ARTHUR W. PINERO<br/><br/></big>
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN<br/><br/>
MDCCCXCII<br/></p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, January 1892.</span></p>
<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved.</i></p>
<p class="center"><i>Entered at Stationers’ Hall.</i></p>
<p class="center"><i>Entered at the Library of Congress, Washington, U.S.A.</i><br/></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2><SPAN name="INTRODUCTORY_NOTE" id="INTRODUCTORY_NOTE"></SPAN>INTRODUCTORY NOTE</h2>
<p>It is well known that Mr. Pinero holds decided views of
his own as to the nature and function of farce; indeed,
he claims for it a wider scope and a more comprehensive
purpose than have ever been associated with farce of the
old Adelphi type, or the more modern genus of the
Palais Royal. He has openly expressed his opinion that
farce must gradually become the modern equivalent of
comedy, since the present being an age of sentiment
rather than of manners, the comic playwright must of
necessity seek his humour in the exaggeration of sentiment.
Thus Mr. Pinero holds that farce should treat of
probable people placed in possible circumstances, but
regarded from a point of view which exaggerates their
sentiments and magnifies their foibles. In this light it
is permitted to this class of play, not only to deal with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</SPAN></span>
ridiculous incongruities of incident and character, but to
satirise society, and to wring laughter from those possible
distresses of life which might trace their origin to fallacies
of feeling and extravagances of motive.</p>
<p>"The Cabinet Minister" is the latest of Mr. Pinero’s
series of farces, and it may be regarded as the direct
development of ideas which he began to put into practice
when he wrote "The Magistrate." Since then these
ideas have undergone a process of gradual evolution,
which may be clearly traced through the successive
productions of "The Schoolmistress," "Dandy Dick,"
and "The Cabinet Minister," in each of which it will
be seen that the author has aimed less at the exposition
of a plot than at the satirising of particular types of
character in a possible social atmosphere.</p>
<p>"The Cabinet Minister" was written early in 1889, and
produced by Mrs. John Wood and Mr. Arthur Chudleigh
at the Court Theatre, on April 23, 1890.</p>
<p>The following is a copy of the <span class="nowrap">Programme:—</span>
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p class="center"><big>ROYAL COURT THEATRE.</big></p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Under the Management of Mrs. John Wood.</span></p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p class="center">ON WEDNESDAY, APRIL 23rd,</p>
<p class="center">At 8 o’clock,</p>
<p class="center">WILL BE ACTED FOR THE FIRST TIME</p>
<p class="center">AN ORIGINAL FARCE IN FOUR ACTS, CALLED</p>
<p class="center"><big>THE CABINET MINISTER,</big></p>
<p class="center"><small>BY</small></p>
<p class="center">A. W. PINERO.</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<table summary="Dramatis Personae">
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Earl of Drumdurris</span> (in the <span class="smcap">Guards</span>)</td><td style="width:40%;">Mr. <span class="smcap">Richard Saunders</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Viscount Aberbrothock</span> (his Son)</td><td> * * * *</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Right Hon. Sir Julian Twombley</span>, G.C.M.G., M.P. (Secretary of State for the <span class="nowrap">——</span> Department)</td><td>Mr. <span class="smcap">Arthur Cecil</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Brooke Twombley</span> (his Son)</td><td>Mr. <span class="smcap">E. Allan Aynesworth</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Macphail of Ballocheevin</span></td><td>Mr. <span class="smcap">Brandon Thomas</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Mr. Joseph Lebanon</span></td><td>Mr. <span class="smcap">Weedon Grossmith</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Valentine White</span> (Lady Twombley’s Nephew)</td><td>Mr. <span class="smcap">Herbert Waring</span>.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</SPAN></span></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Mr. Mitford</span><SPAN name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</SPAN> (Sir Julian’s Private Secretary)</td><td>Mr. <span class="smcap">Frank Farren</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Munkittrick</span></td><td>Mr. <span class="smcap">John Clulow</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Probyn</span> (A Servant)</td><td>Mr. <span class="smcap">Ernest Paton</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td colspan="2"><hr style="width: 25%; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Dowager Countess of Drumdurris</span></td><td>Miss <span class="smcap">R. G. Le Thière</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia Vibart</span> (her Daughter)</td><td>Miss <span class="smcap">Isabel Ellissen</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Countess of Drumdurris</span></td><td>Miss <span class="smcap">Eva Moore</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span></td><td>Mrs. <span class="smcap">John Wood</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Imogen</span> (her Daughter)</td><td>Miss <span class="smcap">Florence Tanner</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span></td><td>Mrs. <span class="smcap">Edmund Phelps</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Hon. Mrs. Gaylustre</span> (a Young Widow trading as Mauricette et Cie., 17<span class="smcap">a</span>, Plunkett Street, Mayfair) </td><td>Miss <span class="smcap">Rosina Filippi</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Angèle</span></td><td>Miss <span class="smcap">Marianne Caldwell</span>.</td></tr>
<tr><td><span class="smcap">Miss Munkittrick</span> </td><td>Miss <span class="smcap">Florence Harrington</span>.</td></tr>
</table>
<div class="footnote">
<p><SPAN name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_A_1">
<span class="label">[A]</span></SPAN> <i>Subsequently changed to </i><span class="smcap">Melton</span>.</p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p class="center">ACT I.</p>
<p class="center">DEBT.</p>
<p class="center"><i>At </i>Sir <span class="smcap">Julian Twombley’s</span><i>, Chesterfield Gardens. May.</i></p>
<hr style="width: 35%;" />
<p class="center">ACT II.</p>
<p class="center">DIFFICULTIES.</p>
<p class="center"><i>At</i> Sir <span class="smcap">Julian’s</span><i> again. July.</i></p>
<hr style="width: 35%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="center">ACT III.</p>
<p class="center">DISASTER.</p>
<p class="center"><i>At Drumdurris Castle, Perthshire. August.</i></p>
<hr style="width: 35%;" />
<p class="center">ACT IV.</p>
<p class="center">DANCING.</p>
<p class="center"><i>The same place. The next day.</i></p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p class="center">THE SCENERY IS DESIGNED AND PAINTED BY T. W. HALL.</p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p>The reception on the first night was of a half-hearted
character, for the play had been described simply as a
farce, and the audience found itself laughing at seemingly
serious situations which it felt should properly provoke
tears, feeling sympathetically interested in passages of
sentiment one moment, only to mock at them the next,
and, in fact, experiencing constant perplexity as to its
emotional duties. The programme certainly said “farce”
in black and white, and what could that mean but unmitigated
nonsense and laughter? Yet, here was actual drama
with a whimsical twist that was most surprising; here
were bits of pathos which were positively comic. Could<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</SPAN></span>
this be farce? But happily that kind of criticism is soon
forgotten whose principle is, like that of <i>Mr. Punch's</i>
navvy, “Here’s a stranger, let’s ’eave ’alf a brick at
him.” The “mixed” greeting of “The Cabinet Minister”
gave place to very enthusiastic receptions on succeeding
nights, and, in spite of the perplexity confessed in many
of the criticisms of the play, the theatre was crowded
night after night, and the fashionable and political worlds
flocked to the Court, many leading politicians being
frequent visitors.</p>
<p>The season terminated on August 8, and the theatre
re-opened on October 11, from which time the popularity
of Mr. Pinero’s play continued as great as ever. But,
after 197 performances, Mrs. John Wood decided to
withdraw “The Cabinet Minister” on February 14, 1891,
in the very zenith of its success, while a further long run
was still to be reasonably expected. This play has not yet
been seen in the provinces, but Mr. Augustin Daly has
arranged to produce it, with his famous company, at his
theatre in New York early in the present month.</p>
<p> <span class="smcap right">Malcolm C. Salaman.</span><br/>
<br/>
<i>January 1892.</i><br/></p>
</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2><SPAN name="THE_CABINET_MINISTER" id="THE_CABINET_MINISTER"></SPAN> <i>THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY</i></h2>
<p><span class="smcap">Right Hon. Sir Julian Twombley</span>, G.C.M.G., M.P., <i>Secretary of State for the * * * Department</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Brooke Twombley</span>, <i>their son</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Imogen</span>, <i>their daughter</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Dowager Countess of Drumdurris</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia Vibart</span>, <i>her daughter</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Earl of Drumdurris</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Countess of Drumdurris</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Viscount Aberbrothock</span>, <i>their son</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Macphail of Ballocheevin</span>, <i>her son</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Valentine White</span>, <i>Lady Twombley’s nephew</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Hon. Mrs. Gaylustre</span>, <i>trading as Mauricette et Cie., 17a Plunkett Street, Mayfair</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Joseph Lebanon</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Melton</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">The Munkittrick</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Miss Munkittrick</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Probyn</span></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Angèle</span><br/></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p class="center"><big>
<SPAN href="#THE_FIRST_ACT"><i>THE FIRST ACT</i></SPAN><br/>
<br/>
DEBT<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<SPAN href="#THE_SECOND_ACT"><i>THE SECOND ACT</i></SPAN><br/>
<br/>
DIFFICULTIES<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<SPAN href="#THE_THIRD_ACT"><i>THE THIRD ACT</i></SPAN><br/>
<br/>
DISASTER<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<SPAN href="#THE_FOURTH_ACT"><i>THE FOURTH ACT</i></SPAN><br/>
<br/>
DANCING<br/></big></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</SPAN></span></p>
<h1>THE CABINET MINISTER</h1>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_FIRST_ACT" id="THE_FIRST_ACT"></SPAN>THE FIRST ACT.</h2>
<p class="spkr"><big>Debt</big></p>
<p><i>The scene is a conservatory built and decorated in
Moorish style, in the house of the</i> <span class="smcap">Rt. Hon. Sir
Julian Twombley, M.P.</span>, <i>Chesterfield Gardens,
London. A fountain is playing, and tall palms
lend their simple elegance to the elaborate Algerian
magnificence of the place. The drawing-rooms
are just beyond the curtained entrances. It is a
May afternoon.</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Brooke Twombley</span><i>, a good-looking but insipid young
man of about two-and-twenty, faultlessly dressed
for the afternoon, enters, and sits dejectedly, turning
over some papers.</i></p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>I’ve done it. Such an afternoon’s work—what! [<i>Reading.</i>] “Schedule of the Debts of Mr. Brooke
Twombley. [<i>Turning over sheet after sheet.</i>] Tradesmen.
Betting Transactions. Baccarat. Miscellaneous
Amusements. Sundries. Extras.”</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Probyn</span>, <i>a servant in powder and livery, is crossing
the conservatory, when he sees</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Oh, Mr. Brooke.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Slipping the schedule into his pocket.</i>] Eh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>I didn’t know you were in, sir. Her ladyship told
me to give you this, Mr. Brooke—quietly.</p>
<p>[<i>He hands</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>a letter which he has taken
from his pocket.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Glancing at the envelope.</i>] The Mater. Thank
you. [<i>A little cough is heard. He looks toward the
drawing-room.</i>] Is anyone there?</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Mrs. Gaylustre, sir.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>The dressmaker! What does she want?</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>She told Phipps, Miss Imogen’s maid, sir, that she
was anxious to see the effect of her ladyship’s and
Miss Imogen’s gowns when they get back from the
Drawing-Room.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>You should take her upstairs.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Beg your pardon, Mr. Brooke, but we’ve always
understood that when Mrs. Gaylustre calls in the
morning she’s a dressmaker, and when she calls in
the afternoon she’s a lady.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, very well; it’s awfully confusing. [<span class="smcap">Probyn</span>
<i>goes out.</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>reads the letter.</i>] “My sweet child.
For heaven’s sake let me have your skeddle, or
whatever you call your list of debts, directly. I’ll
do my best to get you out of your scrape, though
<i>how</i> I can’t think. I’m desperately short of money,
and altogether—as my poor dear father used to say—things
are as blue as old Stilton. If your pa finds
out what a muddle I’m in, I fear he’ll throw up
public life and bury us in the country, and then
good-by to my dear boy’s and girl’s prospects. So if
I contrive to clear you once more, don’t do it again,
my poppet, or you’ll break the heart of your loving
mother, Kitty Twombley.” The Mater’s a brick—what!
But I wonder if she has any notion how
much it tots up to.</p>
<p>[<i>He places the letter upon the back of a large saddle-bag
arm-chair while he takes out the schedule.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Three thousand seven hundred and fifty-six,
nought, two. What!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>enters.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>A young man wants to see you, Mr. Brooke.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Who is it?</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>No card, sir—and rather queerly dressed. Says
he has a wish to shake hands with you on the door-step.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, I say! He mustn’t, you know—what!</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>I don’t quite like the look of him, sir; gives the
name of White—Mr. Valentine White.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Why, that’s my cousin!</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Cousin, sir! I beg pardon.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Where is he?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>goes out quickly, followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Probyn.</span> <i>The</i>
<span class="smcap">Hon. Mrs. Gaylustre</span>, <i>an attractive, self-possessed,
mischievous-looking woman, of not more
than thirty, very fashionably dressed, enters from
the drawing-room</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>How very charming! Lady Twombley’s latest
fad, the Algerian conservatory. And there was a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</SPAN></span>
time when a sprig of geranium on the window-sill
would have contented her. [<i>Looking at a photograph
of</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>upon the table.</i>] There she
is—Kitty Twombley. In one of my gowns too.
Kitty Twombley, once Kitty White, the daughter
of a poor farmer down in Cleverton. Ah, when
young Mr. Julian Twombley came canvassing Farmer
White’s vote he found you innocently scrubbing
the bricks, I suppose! And now! [<i>With a courtesy.</i>] Lady Twombley, wife of a Cabinet Minister
and Patroness Extraordinary of that deserving
young widow, Fanny Gaylustre! [<i>She sits surveying
the portraits upon the table.</i>] Ha, ha! I’ll turn you
all to account some fine day. Why shouldn’t I
finish as well as the dairy-fed daughter of a Devonshire
yokel? What on earth is wrong with my bonnet? [<i>She puts her hand up behind her head and
finds</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>’s <i>letter which</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>had left
on the back of the chair.</i>] Lady Twombley’s writing. [<i>Reading.</i>] “My sweet child. For heaven’s
sake let me have your skeddle——” [<i>She sits up
suddenly and devours the contents of the letter.</i>] Oh! [<i>Reading aloud.</i>] “I’m desperately short of money!
Things are as blue as old Stilton! If your pa finds
out——!” My word!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Heard speaking outside.</i>] My dear Valentine,
why shouldn’t you come in—what?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>creeps round in front of the table and
disappears with the letter in her hand as</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>
enters, dragging in <span class="smcap">Valentine White</span>, <i>a roughly-dressed,
handsome young fellow of about six-and-twenty,
bronzed and bearded.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Now, Brooke, you know I cut away from England
years ago because I couldn’t endure ceremony
of any kind.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>I’m not treating you with ceremony—what!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>[<i>Looking about him.</i>] Phew! the atmosphere’s
charged with it. That fellow with his hair powdered
nearly sent me running down the street like
a mad dog.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Where the deuce have you been for the last six or
eight years?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Where? Oh, buy a geography; call it, “Explorations
of Valentine White in Search of Freedom,”
and there you have it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Freedom!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Blessed freedom from forms, shams, and ceremonies
of all sorts and descriptions.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Why, you left us for South Africa. Didn’t South
Africa satisfy you?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Satisfy me! I joined the expedition to Bangwaketsi.
What were the consequences?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Fever?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Worse. There’s no ceremony about fever. No,
Brooke, I was snubbed by a major in the Kalahari
Desert, because I didn’t dress for dinner.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Then we heard of you herding filthy cattle in
Mexico.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Yes, at Durango. I enjoyed that, till some
younger sons of the nobility came out and left
cards at my hut. I afterwards drove a railway
engine in Bolivia.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>By Jove, how awful—what! Wasn’t that sufficiently
beastly rough?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>My dear fellow, would you believe it—I got hold
of a stoker who was a decayed British baronet!
The affected way in which that man shovelled on
coals was unendurable. So I’ve come back, hopelessly
wise.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Serve you right for kicking at refinement and
good form and all that sort of thing. What!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>[<i>Mimicking</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.] Varnish, and veneer, and
all that sort of thing—what!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, confound you! Well, you’ll dine here at a
quarter to eight, Val, won’t you?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Dine in Chesterfield Gardens! Thirteen courses
and eight wines! Heaven forgive you, Brooke.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Look here, you shall eat on the floor with a
wooden spoon.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Thank you—even your floors are too highly polished.
Tell Aunt Kitty and little Imogen that I
shall walk in Kensington Gardens to-morrow morning
at ten.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Little Imogen! Haw, haw!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Well?</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>I think it will pretty considerably wound your
susceptibilities to hear that my sister Imogen is being
presented by the Mater this afternoon.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>[<i>In horror.</i>] Presented!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Presented at Court—Drawing-Room, you know.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>How dare they! poor little child!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Haw, haw! If you’ll wait a few minutes you’ll
see an imposing display of trains and feathers.
Some of them are coming on here after the ceremony
to drink tea, I believe.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Trains and feathers! Good gracious, Brooke,
Imogen must have grown up!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Here’s her portrait—what?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>[<i>Staring at the portrait.</i>] I am right, Brooke—she
<i>has</i> grown up!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Haw!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Eight years ago she was a romp, with a frock that
always had a tear in it, and a head like a cornfield
in the wind. Just look at this! While I’ve been
away they’ve given her a new frock and brushed
her hair. What an awful change!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>appears at the conservatory entrance.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia Vibart</span>, <i>a handsome, distinguished-looking,
and elegantly dressed girl of about
twenty, enters. She scarcely notices</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>,
<i>who bows formally.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>No one has returned yet, Brooke?</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Effie, don’t you recollect Mr. White?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Oh! how do you do? [<i>She shakes hands with him
in an affected manner.</i>] We are distantly related, I
remember.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Lady Euphemia, I join you in remembering the
relationship—and the distance.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Oh, I don’t mean that, Mr. White. At any rate,
we were excellent friends many years ago when our
cousin Imogen used to give us tea in her school-room.
She will be <i>too</i> rejoiced at your return.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>At the window.</i>] Hullo, I think pa has come
home.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Good-by, Lady Euphemia.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>I say, Effie, Mr. White won’t stay.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>[<i>Indifferently.</i>] What a pity!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>He has turned against civilization, you know, and
has become a sort of pleasant cannibal.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>A cannibal! That is <i>too</i> interesting. Pray remain,
Mr. White. My brother, Lord Drumdurris, is
on duty at the Palace to-day and is coming on here.
We all knew each other as children. He will be <i>too</i>
delighted.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>I recollect Lord Vibart, as he then was, very well.
He once burnt me with a red-hot poker.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Good-humouredly, I am sure. Perhaps you have
not heard that he married Lady Egidia Cardelloe,
Lord Struddock’s second daughter, about two years
ago. If you stay you will meet her also.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Ah, I am afraid I—I——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>You will find her <i>too</i> enchanting.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>No, he won’t. She’s not tattooed or anything.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>They have a little son, just five months old, who
is <i>too</i> divine.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah, now, if you boiled the baby it might be to
Val’s taste.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>As they have been constantly travelling, Egidia is<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</SPAN></span>
only just presented to-day by my mother. You
recollect Lady Drumdurris, my mother?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Perfectly.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Poking</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>in the side.</i>] Old Lady Drum!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>My mother will be <i>too</i> charmed to meet you again.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.] Sir Julian is coming into the conservatory,
sir.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Pa! [<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>goes out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Oh, dear Sir Julian! [<i>She runs out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Look sharp, Brooke. Let me out.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Val, I’ll tell you what. Come upstairs and smoke
a cigarette in my room, and I’ll bring the Mater and
Imogen to you on the quiet when the people are
gone.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Why, Brooke, do you think that Aunt Kitty and
Imogen want a roving relative on the premises who
isn’t worth tuppence!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Bosh! Look out, here’s pa! He seems awfully
mumpish. Come on.</p>
<p>[<i>He takes</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>out. Directly they are gone</i> <span class="smcap">Lady
Euphemia</span> <i>re-enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian Twombley</span>,
<i>an aristocratic but rather weak-looking man of
about fifty-five, wearing his Ministerial uniform.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Are you pleased to get back, uncle?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Emphatically.</i>] Yes.</p>
<p>[<i>She places him in the arm-chair. He sinks into
it with a sigh.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>How is your neuralgia?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Intense. It has been so ever since——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>[<i>Putting her smelling-bottle to his nose.</i>] Ever
since?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Ever since I took Office. Thank you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Was it a very brilliant Drawing-Room?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I think it must have been. I have been more
than usually trodden upon.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Did you catch a glimpse of Aunt Kitty or of any
of our people?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I <i>heard</i> Lady Twombley. What inexhaustible
spirit she has! Euphemia, my dear, I confide in
you. But for Lady Twombley I could never endure
the badgering, the browbeating, the hackling, for
which I seem especially selected.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>It’s <i>too</i> unjust.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, I know I am going to have a bad time in the
House to-night!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Don’t dwell upon it, uncle.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Euphemia! [<i>He jumps up almost fiercely.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Uncle Julian!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Certain members of the Opposition are going too
far. They regard me as a bull in the arena. They
goad me, they pierce me with questions. And then,
the lack of journalistic sympathy! Look here!</p>
<p>[<i>He stealthily produces a newspaper from his
pocket.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>[<i>Reproachfully.</i>] Uncle Julian, you’ve bought a
newspaper. You promised aunt you never would.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>H’m! I would have you know, Euphemia, that I
have not absolutely broken my pledge to Lady
Twombley. I made Harris, the coachman, purchase
this. As you drive home drop it out of your carriage
window.</p>
<p>[<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>takes the paper from him her
eyes fall upon a paragraph.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Oh! do they mean you, uncle?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Without doubt.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>[<i>Reading.</i>] “The Square Peg!”</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Hush! the servant!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>crams the paper into her pocket.</i>
<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>enters, carrying a small music-easel with
some music on it and a flute in a case.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Here, Sir Julian?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Oh, do play, uncle!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Probyn</span>.] Thank you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>It will soothe you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Taking the flute from</i> <span class="smcap">Probyn</span>.] My only vice,
Euphemia. [<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>goes out.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>sounds a
mournful note.</i>] This little friend has inspired
some of my most conspicuous oratorical triumphs.
It has furnished me with many a cutting rejoinder
for question time. [<i>He sounds another note.</i>] Ah, I
know I am going to have such a bad night in the
House.</p>
<p>[<i>He plays.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] That woman!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>.] How do you do?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>stares, inclines her head slightly,
and goes to</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] Haughty wretch!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Mrs. Gaylustre!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Oh, Sir Julian, don’t, don’t stop!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I thought I was alone with Lady Euphemia.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>I am waiting to see dear Lady Twombley. Oh,
do permit me to hear that sweet instrument!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Pray sit down!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>resumes his seat and plays a plaintive
melody.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>listens in a rapt
attitude.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.] That person is <i>too</i> odious to me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Several people have taken her up.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Somehow, being taken up is what she suggests.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>She seems a sort of society mermaid—half a lady
and half a milliner—what? Only it bothers you to
know where the one leaves off and the other begins.
Who is she?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>In prehistoric days she was a Miss Lebanon.
Lord Bulpitt’s son, Percy Gaylustre, met her at
Nice—or somewhere.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, yes, and he married her—or something.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Yes, and now she’s a widow—or something.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Why does the Mater encourage her?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Because Aunt Kate is <i>too</i> good-hearted and impressionable.
But, as a rule, I think Mrs. Gaylustre
makes a considerable reduction to those who ask
her to their parties. [<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>is bending over</i>
<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>and turning his music.</i>] Look!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>appears at the entrance.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Here’s Sir Julian, my lady.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Hullo, Mater!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>, <i>a handsome, bright, good-humoured
woman, dressed magnificently in Court dress,
enters.</i> <span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>retires, and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>stops
playing.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Kissing</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.] Well, Brooke, darling, have
you wanted your mother? [<i>Kissing</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>.] Effie, how sweet you look! what a dream of a bonnet! [<i>Nods to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span>.] How d’ye do, Mrs.
Gaylustre? Why, pa! [<i>She bends over him and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</SPAN></span>
kisses him.</i>] You’re worried—you’ve been playing
your whistle.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Flute, Katherine.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I mean flute. It was my brother Bob who always
played a whistle when the crops were poor or
the lambs fell sickly.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I had not the advantage of your brother Robert’s
acquaintance.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Where’s Imogen? Imogen!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Outside.</i>] Mamma!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Come and show yourself to pa.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>enters in her Court dress, a pretty girl of
about eighteen.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Effie, dear! Well, Brooke!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>.] Look at her!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Quite charming!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Well, papa, have you nothing to say to me?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>My dear, I hesitate to address such a magnificent
creature.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Bowing to</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>.] Mamma, I think that
gentleman wishes to be presented to me. I have no
objection, if you consider him a person I ought to
know.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Kissing</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>.] Ah, Julian, our sweet child!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Taking</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>’s <i>hand.</i>] My dear.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>With dignity.</i>] I am pleased to make your acquaintance.
I’ve heard you mentioned very kindly
by my little friend, Imogen Twombley. Pray sit
down, and I’ll sit on your lap. [<span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>sits on</i> <span class="smcap">Sir
Julian</span>’s <i>knee and puts her arm round his neck.</i>] Oh,
papa, I have been so nervous!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>I quite sympathize. I was shockingly nervous
when <i>I</i> was presented.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Rising hastily.</i>] Mrs. Gaylustre—I didn’t see
you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>.] Dear old Lady
Leeke, whose wheels we locked in the Park, said<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</SPAN></span>
she had heard Imogen’s name mentioned fifty times.
Mrs. Charlie Lessingham declares nothing prettier
has been seen since her own first season. And it’s
true—that’s the best of it! I saw the child make
her courtesy; I was determined I would. I entered
the Throne Room just before her and tumbled
through anyhow, with one eye straight in front
of me and the other screwed round towards my girl.
There was a general shudder—it was at my squint.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I trust not, Katherine.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>When I did get through they gave me my train,
as much as to say: “If this belongs to you, take it
home as soon as possible.” But there I stuck in the
doorway, not budging an inch. I didn’t care how
the officials whispered, and waved, and beckoned;
I stood my ground. And then, Julian, then my
breath nearly went from me, for I saw her coming!
Effie, it was lovely! Brooke, you would have been
proud of your sister! Her cheeks were like the
outside leaf of a Duchesse de Vallombrosa rose, and
her eyes like two dewdrops on the top of it; and
she had just enough fright in her little heart to
make her feathers tremble. Then she courtesied.
Ah, if she had stumbled I should have been by her
side in an instant—who would have blamed me?
I’m her mother!—but she didn’t. No, she floated
towards me—dipping, and dipping, and dipping,
again and again, as smoothly and gracefully as a
swan swimming backward!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>embraces</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>.]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>I am <i>too</i> glad, Aunt Kitty.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Awfully satisfactory—what?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I remember Lady Liphook’s daughter Miriam
falling and rolling over in the season of ’85.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Lor’ how sorry I feel for anybody who isn’t a
mother! But, I say, there’s a bit that wants taking
in there. [<i>Pinching up the shoulder of</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>’s
<i>dress.</i>] Gaylustre, you must tell your woman Antoinette
this won’t do.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Oh, Lady Twombley—please!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>puts her handkerchief to her
eyes.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>My dear, pray forgive me! I really forgot where
we were.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>, <i>with a little sob.</i>] You
wouldn’t hurt my feelings wilfully, I know.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Not for the world. But it’s a little confusing,
mixing up business with pleasure. Imogen, let
Lady Effie and Mrs. Gaylustre hear you play your<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</SPAN></span>
lovely harp, but don’t let the nasty thing hurt your
fingers. Brooke, I want to speak to you.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>stroll out, followed
by</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Mournfully.</i>] I’ll dress now, Katherine, and go
down.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Lor’, pa, don’t speak as if you were thinking of
our tomb at Kensal Green.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Competent authorities assure me there is quiet to
be found in the tomb; I anticipate nothing of that
kind where I am going to-night.</p>
<p>[<i>He goes out.</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>watches his going,
then turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>sharply.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Well, have you got it?</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>My—er——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Your skeddle.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>hands his schedule to</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>There’s a dear boy. [<i>She turns over the leaves,
gradually her face assumes a look of horror.</i>] “Total,
three thousand——!”</p>
<p>[<i>She folds the schedule, puts it in her pocket, and
faces</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>fiercely with her hands clenched.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You imp! [<i>She boxes his right ear soundly.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Mater!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You villain! [<i>She boxes his left ear.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Don’t, Mater!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Three thousand pounds! Three thousand times
I wish you had never been born! I—I—— [<i>She
breaks down, puts her arms round Brooke’s neck, and
cries.</i>] Oh, Brooke, my dear, forgive your poor
mother’s vile temper. I’ve made my Brooke’s head
ache. Oh, my gracious!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Don’t fret, Mater. If you’re run rather low at
Scott’s——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Scott’s, Brooke! When I creep into that bank
now and ask for my pass-book I have to hold on to
the edge of the counter, I feel so sick and giddy.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, very well then, Mater, I can wait. Mr. Nazareth,
of Burlington Street, will accommodate me for
a time; a couple of bills, you know, at three and
six months—what?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Speaking in a whisper.</i>] Brooky, Brooky, I’ve
thought of those dreadful things for myself.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>For yourself, Mater! Why, you can always get
the right side of pa.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Brooke! Brooky, I must tell you. Just now poor
pa has no right side.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Mater!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>It’s as much as the dear man can do to get a rattle
out of his keys. For a long time, Brooke, we’ve all
been outrunning the constable.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Really, Mater, I ought to have been consulted
before.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I know, Brooke, but I couldn’t face my boy’s
reproaches.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Pa must have been inexcusably reckless—what?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>No, it’s all my fault, every bit of it. [<i>A pretty
melody on the harp is heard.</i>] Brooke, never marry
a country-bred girl as your pa did. When he fell
in love with me I was content with three frocks a
year—think of that!—and had to twist up my
own hats. And I could have done it for ever<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</SPAN></span>
down at Cleverton, but I didn’t stand the transplanting.
Oh, I’ll never forget how the fine folks
snubbed me and sneered at me when I came to
town. Brooke, my son, I declare to goodness
that for ten long years I never saw a nose that
wasn’t turned up! And then pa got his baronetcy,
and old Lady Drumdurris gave us her forefinger to
shake, and that did it. But it was too late; I was
spoilt by that time. I had been too long fishing for
friends with dances, and dinners, and drags, and
race-parties, and all sorts of bait; and when the
time came for a few people to like me for my own
stupid, rough self I’d got into the way of scattering
sovereigns as freely as I used to sprinkle mignonette
seed in my little garden at the Yale Farm.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>All this is very painful, Mater—what?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Crying.</i>] What a silly woman I’ve been, Brooke!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>We’re all thoughtless at times.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>If I had but pulled in when pa’s Irish rents began
to dwindle!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Why didn’t you, Mater?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I don’t know, but I didn’t, I only prayed for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</SPAN></span>
better times and ordered Gillow to refurnish the
dining-room. Last season I got through eighteen
thousand pounds!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p>[<i>She twists him round, pointing to the walls of the
conservatory.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>And look! Look at this sixpenny Algerian grotto
I’ve stuck in the middle of the house. Seven
thousand four hundred and fifty this cost, not
counting the hot-water pipes.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Is it paid for?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Your dear pa transferred the money for it to my
account at Scott’s, but I’ve gone and spent it on other
things.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Mater!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, my poor heart!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Well, Mater, any assistance I can render you in
this emergency——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah, I know. [<i>Seizing his hand and kissing it.</i>] My Brooke! my comfort!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>[<i>Outside.</i>] Lady Drumdurris—Dowager Lady
Drumdurris.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Egidia and Aunt Dora.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Wiping her eyes.</i>] Your aunt mustn’t see me upset.
Brooke, don’t think anything more of what
I’ve told you. I’ve tumbled into the mud before
now, but mud dries to dust and I’ve always managed
to shake it off. Dora!</p>
<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager Countess of Drumdurris</span> <i>enters—a
portly, rather formidable-looking lady of forty-five
or fifty, in Court dress and diamonds.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Well, Dora, are you tired?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I hope I am never fatigued in doing my duty to
my family, Kate. Here is poor Egidia.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Egidia, Countess of Drumdurris</span> <i>enters—a small,
serious girl, with a great deal of presence and
dignity, also in Court dress.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>How do you do, Lady Twombley?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Why, <i>poor</i> Egidia! Aren’t you well, dear?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Egidia received a telegram from Scotland this
morning; her son has cut his first tooth, during her
absence, painfully.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, dear!</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>You also are a mother, Lady Twombley. You can
sympathize with such cares as those I am now endeavouring
to sustain.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>stroll in.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Your boy is five months old, isn’t he?</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Fergus is precisely five months.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Well, there are two-and-twenty more teeth to
come yet, you know.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Yes, I am schooling myself into that conviction.
I am naturally, I hope, a woman of more than ordinary
courage.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>appears at the entrance.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Lord Drumdurris.</p>
<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Earl of Drumdurris</span>, <i>a boyish-looking officer of
the Guards, in uniform, with much dignity and
reserve, enters.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>How do you do, Lady Twombley? Egidia.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Keith, you have further news from Scotland?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Another telegram.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Ah!</p>
<p>[<i>She puts her hand calmly in that of the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Tell us, my son.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Another tooth. [<span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>closes her eyes. The</i>
<span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>kisses her upon the brow.</i>] I offered Lady
Macphail and Sir Colin the use of my brougham, but
they preferred coming on here in their chariot.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Lady Macphail and Sir Colin! Coming here!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] I haven’t told you what
I’ve done. Keith!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>[<i>Bowing.</i>] Certainly.</p>
<p>[<i>He joins the others, who are talking together.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] I have a motive. My
whole life has been one vast comprehensive motive.
Lady Macphail is the little woman to whom I introduced
you on the stairs at the Palace.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Well, but——</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I encountered her again, and delivered a message
from you begging her to come on here with Sir
Colin to drink tea.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I never——</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I know you didn’t. My motive is this. She has
just brought her boy to London.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Is he the great man in the kilt I saw holding on
to her lappets?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Yes.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>He’s thirty, if he’s an hour.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>He’s more. But he is a fine example of the grand
simplicity that exists in many Scottish families.
Proprietor of eighty thousand acres, head of a great
clan, Colin Macphail of Ballocheevin remains a child
attached to his mother.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, I shall be very happy to——</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Ah, you grasp my motive!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>No, I don’t.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>In</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>’s <i>ear.</i>] <i>Imogen.</i></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Imogen?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Imogen <i>must</i> make a match this season and marry
before the year is out.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Why?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Don’t deceive yourself, Kate Twombley. You
are aware that Julian’s position in the Ministry is
precarious?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You think so?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Everybody thinks so. It’s my opinion they’ll
make a Jonah of him and cast him from them before
many months are over. You know what that
means?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Horrible! Julian giving up public life and set<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</SPAN></span>tling
down in some dismal swamp as a country gentleman.
He has threatened it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Very well then; you must assure your children’s
future before the blow falls. What could you do
for Imogen in the country?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>A vicar or a small squire.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>More likely a curate or a farmer. Will you resign
yourself to that?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Never, Dora! I never will! I’ve had to swallow
the husks of London and my chicks shall have the
barley. Julian <i>shall</i> hold on till they have made
brilliant marriages!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Ah!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>He shall! Afterwards I’ll go back to darning
stockings with a light heart.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Well spoken, Kate Twombley!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>appears at the entrance.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Sir Colin and Lady Macphail.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] You see my motive?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Yes, Dora.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Colin</span> <i>enter—she a simple
little old woman in Court dress, ecstatically sentimental;
he a formidable-looking bearded man
about six feet high, in full Highland costume,
bashful and awkward in manner, and keeping close
to his mother.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span>.] I am delighted to see you
here.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Presenting</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>.] My boy. [<i>He shelters himself
behind her and bows uneasily.</i>] I have determined
to give the lad a season in this mighty city, Lady
Twombley.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah, he’ll enjoy himself, I’m sure.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Nay, the Macphails never enjoy themselves in the
South.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I’m very sorry; perhaps they don’t go the right
way about it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Already Colin’s feet ache—<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</SPAN></span>—</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Do they?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Ache to press the heather again, searching for a
sight of the red-deer in the misty chasms of Ben
Muchty, or the wild birds fluttering on the gray
shore of Loch-na-Doich.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah, very pretty country, I dare say.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Where would you be, Colin, at this hour at Castle
Ballocheevin? Watching the sun sink behind the
black peak of Ben-na-Vrachie? Speak, lad!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Sadly.</i>] That is so, mother.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Do you do that every evening at home?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Aye.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Ah, a Macphail always feels like a seagull with a
broken wing in the South.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You must take care you don’t get him run over.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>[<i>Appearing at the entrance.</i>] Tea is in the yellow
room, my lady.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>, <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>, <span class="smcap">Egidia</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>
<i>go out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>Introducing</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>.] Lady Macphail, Sir Colin—my
niece, Imogen. Imogen, take Sir Colin to tea.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>This way, Sir Colin.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] You see my motive?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Waiting for</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>.] Tea is in this room, Sir
Colin.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Looking at</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>, <i>and then, appealingly, at</i> <span class="smcap">Lady
Macphail</span>.] Come, mother.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Imogen</span>, <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>go out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>, <i>following the others.</i>] He is
impressed!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>, <i>in evening dress, enters with a letter in his
hand.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Katherine! Katherine!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Pa?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I must speak to you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>But Dora has just brought a Highland youth here.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I can’t help it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>What’s wrong, pa? How pale and waxy you
look!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Handing her the letter.</i>] An urgent letter from
old Mr. Mason, my solicitor, about my affairs.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, Lor’, pa—another!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>You have it upside down.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Everything connected with our affairs <i>will</i> get
that way.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Mason is imperative.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>He insists upon your considering your pecuniary
position.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>What shall I do?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Accede to his request—consider it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>But I am constantly considering it!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Hush, pa!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>No man’s pecuniary position has ever demanded or
received more consideration than my own. Day and
night my pecuniary position lashes my brain into
the consistency of a whipped egg.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Pa, be calm!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Kate, my pecuniary position interposes between
me and grave public questions. My very spectacles
are toned by it. It is in every blue-book, in every
page of Hansard, in the preamble of every Bill.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, dear pa!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>It sits with me in committees, accompanies me
into the lobbies; it receives deputations, replies to
questions in the House; it forms part of the deliberations
of the Cabinet. It warps my political sympathies;
it distorts my judgment; it obscures my
eloquence, and it lames my logic! [<i>Taking the letter<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</SPAN></span>
from</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] And Mason—asks—me—to
consider it!</p>
<p>[<i>Leans his head on his hands. She sits on the
arm of his chair.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Tearfully.</i>] Julian, you—mustn’t—give way.
Suppose the members of the Opposition saw you
like this.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>With a groan.</i>] Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Think of those persons who sit—where is it?—on
the hatchway—or below the gangway, or some
uncomfortable place. How rejoiced they’d be! [<i>Shaking him gently.</i>] Have courage, Julian—perk
up, pa dear.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I cannot go on, Kitty.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, don’t say that!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Mason’s letter decides me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>To do what!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Yield to a sentiment which I have reason to believe
exists on both sides of the House—<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</SPAN></span>—</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Resign?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Resign my place in the Ministry—ask for the
Chiltern Hundreds——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Wind up my affairs in town——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, no!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>And seek peace in rural retirement.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You shan’t, pa! Oh, my gracious, you wouldn’t
be so heartless!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Heartless!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Kneeling beside him.</i>] Think of my blessed chicks—my
babies. Don’t go under, Julian, till we’ve given
them the benefit of our magnificent position——</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Our mag——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Wait till my Brooky—our Brooky—has won some
handsome, wealthy girl who is worthy of him. Hold
on till Imogen has made a marriage that will make<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</SPAN></span>
every true mother’s mouth water. Then I’ll settle
down with you alone, in a marsh. But don’t sink
into obscurity till the end of the year! I can do
wonders by Christmas! Give me till then, pa—give
me till then!</p>
<p>[<i>She throws her arms round his neck.</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>’s <i>harp
is heard again.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>The wretches! how they ignore me! [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Sir
Julian</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] Ah!</p>
<p>[<i>Hiding herself behind a pillar she listens.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>But—but—but if I desperately cling to public
life a little longer I must have money.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Of course—of course you must have money. But,
Julian, you must look to me for that.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>You, Katherine!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You must think only of your value to the country,
and—leave the rest to your wife.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Kitty, you have made some little private hoard
out of your allowance!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Sinking faintly onto the settee.</i>] Well, pa.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>How prudent! How thoughtful!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Go—go to Dora. Make my excuses. I’ll follow
you when I’ve pulled myself together.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Yes, yes. [<i>Turning.</i>] By the way, Kitty, Hopwoods
have just sent in their bill for erecting this
conservatory.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Clinging to the back of the chair.</i>] Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>You remember I transferred, at your request,
seven thousand some odd pounds to your account at
Scott’s when we projected the—h’m!—pardonable
little extravagance?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Y—yes.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Hopwoods can wait till midsummer. Perhaps
you wouldn’t mind letting me have the use of the
money in the meantime?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>No, certainly not.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>A cheque any day this week—<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</SPAN></span>—</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>All days are equally convenient.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Kitty, I <i>will</i> hold on till Christmas!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Thank you, pa—I—— [<i>She turns to him suddenly.</i>] Oh, pa, I haven’t got—I haven’t—I——</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Haven’t what, Kitty?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>N—nothing. Go—go to Dora. [<i>He goes out.</i>] Oh!
where shall I turn for money? Where shall I turn?
Where shall I turn—for money? [<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span>
<i>advances and faces</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] Ah! Mrs.
Gaylustre!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Oh, Lady Twombley, I am in such distress!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Distress!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Producing</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>’s <i>letter to</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.] I
picked up a letter in the next room. I thought it
was the note you wrote me about the plum-coloured
<i>peignoir</i> and that it had fallen from my pocket. I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</SPAN></span>
glanced at it. Oh, look! [<i>She hands the letter to</i>
<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Gracious!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>But that is not the worst. It tells me that you
are in trouble—you, the best friend I have in the
world, my benefactress. Oh, what shall I do?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Hold your tongue about it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Ah! why did I read it through?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Because you were a little curious, I’m afraid.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>I shan’t sleep for it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Thank you, I can do all my own lying awake.
Mind your own concerns for the future, Gaylustre.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>It <i>is</i> my concern when I can help you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p><i>You</i> help me?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Ah, yes. Oh, let me, Lady Twombley! I don’t
ask to be confided in, I only ask to be allowed to
bring my brother to see you—to-night—to-morrow.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Your brother?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Mr. Lebanon—my Joseph. I would trust him as
I’d trust myself. I have known him do such
things in the way of raising money upon what he
calls personal and other security——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>A money-lender?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Lady Twombley! Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Does Mr. Lebanon help—people—in difficulties?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Oh, doesn’t he!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Will you see him, Lady Twombley?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Don’t ask me. Perhaps.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>To-night?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Perhaps, I tell you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>At what time?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Half-past nine—sharp.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] Done!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span>, <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>,
<i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>. <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>follows with</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>,
<i>then after an interval</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>,
<span class="smcap">Egidia</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>appear.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>, <i>reprovingly.</i>] My dear, Lady
Macphail and Sir Colin are going.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] You are neglecting them.
What can be your motive?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span>.] I hope Sir Julian has explained——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Certainly. But I must take my boy away. He
dines at six to avoid late hours.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>talks to</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>Quietly to</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] Look! they are
talking.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Colin rises at five every morning.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Dear me, how awful!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>He loves to watch the sunrise from the jagged
summit of Ben-na-fechan.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>But there’s no Ben-na-what-you-may-call-it here.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>No. But he sits upon the roof of our lodgings in
Clarges Street. Good-bye, Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>They shake hands.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>.] Good-bye. You must come and
see me on one of my Tuesdays.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Aye, with my mother.</p>
<p>[<i>He turns to</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>; <i>they shake hands.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Good-bye, Sir Colin.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] There again! look!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Why, here’s Valentine! Valentine!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Inquiringly.</i>] Valentine?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>brings on</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.] Let me go! I was trying to find
my way out.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] Here’s Valentine, come
back.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Valentine!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Imogen!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh, my dear Val! My dear old Val!</p>
<p>[<i>She rushes to him impulsively and flings her
arms round his neck, at which the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>
<i>gives a cry of horror, and there is a general
movement of astonishment.</i>]</p>
<p class="center"><big>END OF THE FIRST ACT.</big></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_SECOND_ACT" id="THE_SECOND_ACT"></SPAN>THE SECOND ACT.</h2>
<p class="spkr"><big>Difficulties.</big></p>
<p><i>The scene is a handsomely decorated and elegantly
furnished morning-room at</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian Twombley</span>’s,
<i>with every evidence of luxury and refined
taste. It is a July morning.</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>is playing his flute.</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. Melton</span>, <i>a good-looking,
well-dressed young man, enters carrying a
few sheets of paper.</i></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>Pardon me. [<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>’s <i>flute gives a squeak.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, Melton?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>The arrangements for this morning are quite
complete, Sir Julian.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>The arrangements?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>The arrangements for the opening of the new
street.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, to be sure; I open the new street to-day.
Why on earth shouldn’t a new street be opened by
a policeman during the night, quietly?</p>
<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager Lady Drumdurris</span>, <i>fashionably
dressed for out-of-doors, enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>In a flutter.</i>] Julian, good-morning. A glorious
day for the ceremony, Mr. Melton. Is everything
arranged?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>[<i>Bowing.</i>] Everything.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I have a motive for asking. I and my family
accompany Sir Julian and Lady Twombley to lend
weight and support.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>.] You leave here at twelve, reaching
the new street at half-past. You speak from the
cluster of lamps by St. Jude’s Church.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Your speech will be terse, elegant, and vigorous,
I hope, Julian?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I hope so. Have you written it, Melton? [<span class="smcap">Melton</span>
<i>hands him the sheets of paper.</i>] Thank you. The
usual thing, I suppose?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>Quite, quite.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Thank you. There’s nothing like the usual thing. [<i>Referring to the speech.</i>] “By opening up these
majestic avenues London takes beer——”</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>Air.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I beg your pardon. “——takes air into her system
and keeps her place in the race with her sister cities.”
Excellent.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Who will throw the bottle?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>No one, I hope.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>You are thinking of the christening of a ship,
Lady Drumdurris.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Pardon me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>I have to see Superintendent Snudden now as to
the police arrangements.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Dear me! You anticipate no pellets?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>Hardly.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>It’s so unfortunate it isn’t a wet day.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Julian!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>An umbrella is such a safeguard.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>I’ll see that the carriage closes easily.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Thank you. And Lady Twombley might take an
extra sunshade.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Melton</span> <i>goes out. The</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>closes the door
carefully after him.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Reading.</i>] “I can conceive no position more
agreeable to a Minister of the Crown than that
which——”</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Julian!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Dora?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>You wonder why I am with you at this early
hour. I need hardly say I have a motive.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I suppose so.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Knowing that you were not going down to Browning
Street this morning, and that Lady Twombley
and Imogen were to take Euphemia shopping in
Bond Street, I grasped the chance of seeing you
alone. Julian, what has happened to your wife?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>To Katherine?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>There is a shocking change.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Recently?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>It began two or three months ago. She’s not the
woman she was at the commencement of the season.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>You alarm me. In what way?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Every way. Her appearance.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I haven’t noticed it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Being her husband, it is natural you should not.
Her variable temperament! At one moment she
looks as if she would like to bury everybody, me especially;
the next she is laughing in a manner I
must designate as positively provincial.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Dora, you quite distress me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I came early for that purpose.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Thank you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Perhaps you resent my interference.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>No, no.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>It would not deter me if you did. The grand
motive of my life is a firm, undeviating, persistent
policy of practical interference. I am a social warrior;
the moment I scent domestic carnage I hurl
myself into the <i>mêlée</i> and plant my flag. Julian,
my flag is planted in your household.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>But I am aware of nothing disquieting to Katherine’s
peace of mind.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Don’t tell me!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Two or three months ago there <i>was</i> a little difficulty——</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Ah!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>But it was mine, not Katherine’s.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Yours?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Frankly, I was embarrassed for ready money.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Oh, dear!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>But Katherine, who is really of an extremely
thrifty nature, promptly placed her very considerable
savings at my disposal, and the difficulty ceased.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>It never struck me your wife was thrifty.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Nor me till that moment. Which shows how
liable the most careful observer is to error. [<i>Resuming
the study of his speech.</i>] Pray excuse me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] Um! [<i>She goes up to the window.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Studying.</i>] “I can conceive no position more
agreeable to a Minister of the <span class="nowrap">Crown——”</span> I’ll go
upstairs, quietly. <span class="nowrap">“——than</span> that which I occupy
upon this occasion.”</p>
<p>[<i>He moves softly toward the door. The</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>
<i>turns suddenly.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Julian!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Dora?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I don’t like your wife’s great friendship for Mrs.
Gaylustre.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Katherine finds her a bright companion.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Katherine has <i>my</i> companionship. It’s true I
can’t cut a sleeve like that lady.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>It is to be regretted that poor Mrs. Gaylustre is
forced to follow the modern fashion of increasing
her income by devices formerly practised only by
the lower middle-classes.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>She sticks pins in her bosom as though she relished
it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>But, after all, Dora, Madame Mauricette, of Plunkett
Street, and Mrs. Gaylustre, widow of Lord Bulpitt’s
son, are two very distinct persons. Excuse
me. [<i>He continues studying his speech.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>But what was she <i>before</i> her marriage?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>You must really give me notice of that question—I
beg your pardon—I don’t know.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>This lady now walks into your house as if it were
her own!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Your wife is positively canvassing for invitations
for her! Julian!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I shall be unprepared with my speech!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>My family comes before everything!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Lord and Lady Drumdurris are inquiring for you,
my lady.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Beg them to come here. [<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>retires.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah, then, if you’ll allow me——</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>No, Julian. This is another family matter of terrible
importance.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>My dear Dora!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Keith and Egidia approach you at this early hour
at my instigation. I have a painful motive.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, dear me!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>enters, dressed in fashionable walking costume,
her face pale and troubled.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>[<i>Sadly.</i>] Sir Julian.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>My dear Egidia, there is nothing amiss, I hope?</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Ah! Everything is amiss, Sir Julian.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Julian, the relations between my son and his wife
have become terribly strained.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>No, no!</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Indeed, yes!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I have done all in my power to relieve the horrible
tension—if anything, I have made matters
worse. My hope is now centred in you. Here is
Keith.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Ah!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>sits upon a settee staring before her.</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>
<i>enters, looking much worried.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Ah, mother. [<i>Grasping</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>’s <i>hand with
feeling.</i>] Sir Julian.</p>
<p>[<i>He and his wife look severely at one another and
draw themselves up.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>My dear Keith, what can I do for you?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Ha! Explain, mother.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Julian, my son and his wife have cordially agreed
to refer their grave differences to your judgment.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Without binding ourselves to abide by Sir Julian’s
decision.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Naturally.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Pray tell me the cause of dispute.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>The future of their child.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Ah, yes.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>The adjustment of the career he is to follow.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>That is precisely it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>.] Where is Fergus?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>He accompanied us.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>He is with Angèle in the next room.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>Calling at the door.</i>] Angèle! Angèle!</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>[<i>Outside.</i>] Miladi?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Bring Lord Aberbrothock here.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Angèle</span> <i>a French nurse, characteristically attired,
enters, carrying a richly-dressed infant.</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>look into its face together.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Figurez-vous, milord, qu’il a dormi pendant tout
le trajet! et puis quand je suis descendue de voiture,
il s’est réveillé en pleurant ... ah mais, en pleurant!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Give me Lord Aberbrothock. [<i>She takes the child
from Angèle.</i>] Wait in the next room, Angèle.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Yes, miladi. <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">J’espère bien que Monsieur le
Vicomte ne va plus crier, car ça pourrait faire de la
peine à sa grand’maman.</span> [<span class="smcap">Angèle</span> <i>goes out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Now, Julian, this is the point. You see Fergus.
Politics or the Army?</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Politics.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>The Army.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Pray speak, Julian.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Er—um—perhaps it would be rather precipitate——</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>I differ entirely. The child’s intelligence must be
directed into a particular channel from the beginning.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>In that I heartily concur. For instance, the question
of toys is already most urgent.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>He is without playthings at present, so his mind
is quite open.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>You appear to have no views, Julian.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Lady Drumdurris, let Sir Julian look at the
height and character of Fergus’s brow.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Pray do. It’s a soldier’s forehead.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Julian. [<i>She hands the infant to</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian.</span>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Thank you. Politics or the Army? [<i>Addressing
the child in his arms.</i>] My dear Fergus, take my
advice, not, <i>not</i> politics.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Ah!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>If you attach any trifling importance to veracity
as a habit, <i>not</i> politics. If you would care at any
time upon any subject to form your own opinions,
and having formed them, would wish to maintain
them, <i>not</i> politics. If you desire to be of the smallest
service to your fellow man, and if you would sleep
as peacefully at sixty as you now sleep at six months,
<i>not</i> politics.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Sir Julian!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>The Army!</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Never!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>This is most distressing. [<i>Calling at the open
door.</i>] Angèle! Angèle!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Heard outside.</i>] Why, Dora!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Katherine.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>
<i>in walking costumes</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>How good of you to come early! [<i>Kissing</i>
<span class="smcap">Egidia.</span>] Egidia, dearest! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris.</span>] Good-morning,
Keith. Ah! you’ve brought Fergus to see
me! The angel!</p>
<p>[<i>With cries of delight</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley, Imogen</span>,
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>gather round</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>
<i>and the baby</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>The pet!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>The mite!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>He is <i>too</i> sweet!</p>
<p class="spkr">The Three.</p>
<p>Oh—h—h!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>enters</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Shaking hands with</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris.</span>] Hallo, what’s
the matter?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>[<i>With dignity.</i>] They are looking at my son.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Angèle</span> <i>has entered. She takes the infant from</i> <span class="smcap">Sir
Julian.</span>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>We’ve enjoyed a splendid hour in Bond Street—in
and out of twenty shops, eh, girls?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Yes, Aunt Kate.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Yes, mamma.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Bought all we could think of and ordered the rest.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>My dear!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Then why don’t they abolish Bond Street? It’s
the crucible of London—set your foot in it and
everything about you that’s metal dissolves.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Aunt has been <i>too</i> extravagant this morning.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Extravagant! I! Oh, no—only I dearly wish
there was no such plague as money. If the little
words “thank you” were the one universal current
coin, what anxieties, what cravings, what follies
some poor women would be spared! Why can’t
we buy choice stuffs at three-and-a-half thank-yous
a yard?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Oh, Aunt Kate!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Mamma!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>It’s nothing to laugh at. Ah, girls, if “thank
you” paid for everything, being out of breath would
be our only bankruptcy! Oh, my poor brain!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>.] Mamma has a bad headache
to-day, papa.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>A headache! never! Girls, what is it we bought
and brought home with us? I forget.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>We didn’t buy him, mamma—we met him. You
mean Cousin Valentine.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Looking round.</i>] Of course—Valentine. Where
is he? [<i>Calling.</i>] Valentine!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>enters very plainly dressed.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Mr. White! [<i>Bowing stiffly.</i>] How do you do?</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Why, Val! What?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>We met the poor boy outside the tourists’ ticket
office in Piccadilly. He’s off again to-morrow.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Off! Where to?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Egypt.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>We shan’t see him again for another ten years, I
suppose.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh, mamma!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>The odd creature has heard of a congenial tribe
who reside in excavations cut in a rock. It’ll end in
my having a nephew who’s a mummy.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Tearfully.</i>] Oh, don’t!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Katherine, this child is not well.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Yes, I am, papa—but I don’t like—the idea—of
parting—with anybody or anything—even a k-k-kitten.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Soothingly.</i>] Imogen, my dear!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Be quiet, mamma!</p>
<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>, <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>, <span class="smcap">Egidia</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Angèle</span>
<i>with the baby go out.</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>runs after
them.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>resumes the study of his
speech.</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>opens some letters
which are lying on the table.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>.] I never knew such a queer chap!
Come upstairs and tell us all about it—what!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Brooke</span>, <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span> <i>go out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Katherine?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>It’s all right, pa—it’s nothing. [<i>To herself.</i>] Gaylustre! [<i>Reading a letter.</i>] “I will accompany
you and dear Sir Julian to the interesting ceremony
of this morning. Pray keep me a seat in your carriage.” [<i>Crushing the letter in her hand.</i>] The demon!
The relentless demon!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>“I can conceive no position more agreeable to a
Minister of the Crown——”</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Pa, dear, Mrs. Gaylustre will go with us to the
opening of the new street.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>H’m! Katherine, are you sure that Mrs. Gaylustre
is <i>quite</i>——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, quite.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>If I were you I should really think twice—<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</SPAN></span>—</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, I can’t.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Can’t think twice?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I can’t risk offending such a—dear friend.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>But, Katherine——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Understand me, pa—she will sit in our carriage.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Then understand <i>me</i>, Katherine, I will not have
my knees cramped by a lady whose social status is
equivocal.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah! Julian! Don’t attempt to come between me
and Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Katherine!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You will assist her into the carriage, you will help
her to alight; when she arrives you will be charmed
to see her, when she leaves you will be a mass of
regret. You hear me!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>This is a most extraordinary friendship!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>It <i>is</i> an exceptional friendship. Pa, say you’re
delighted this great friend of mine is to be one of
us to-day.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Well, to please you, my dear, of course, I——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Yes?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I am delighted.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To himself.</i>] I see—I see the change in my
wife that Dora spoke of.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>enters with cards on a salver. At the same
moment the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>enters and looks out of the
window.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] They are punctual!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Looking at the cards.</i>] Lady Macphail and Sir
Colin. Not at home. If ever a woman was out I am.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Probyn</span>.] Stop! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] Kate,
what are you doing? This visit is planned by me!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Why?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I have a motive.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, Dora!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Probyn</span>.] Lady Twombley will see Sir Colin
and Lady Macphail here. [<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>goes out</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah! then, if you’ll allow me——</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>No, Julian. This is another family matter.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Another!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>These people have called to formally propose for
the hand of Imogen.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>To propose!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Last night, at the ball of the Perth Highlanders,
I danced the Strathspey and Reel with Sir Colin. In
the excitement I wrung from him an admission of his
affection.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Pa, what shall we do?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Do? The head of the Clan Macphail! Eighty
thousand acres! Julian?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] If it would provide for Imogen before
the smash!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>If Imogen is a high-minded girl she will be mad
with delight.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Will she? [<i>To herself.</i>] Ah! and will she learn
to look down on pa and me when we’re aged
paupers?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>enters</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Sir Colin Macphail—Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>enters, dressed simply and quaintly
in an old-fashioned silk gown, followed closely
by</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>, <i>whose clothes are capacious and
clumsy, and who seems very ill at ease</i>. <span class="smcap">Probyn</span>
<i>withdraws</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Dear Lady Macphail—Sir Colin!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Shaking hands with</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>.] How do you do? [<i>Eyeing</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail.</span>] Oh, dear!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Shaking hands.</i>] Delighted.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>.] Pray sit down. You must be
fatigued with last night’s dance.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>No Macphail is ever fatigued. But the poor lad
feels like a caged eagle in the dress of the South.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I am sure it is—most becoming.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Sit, lad. [<span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>sits, hitching up his trousers
unhappily</i>.] You know the object of our visit, Sir
Julian?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Lady Drumdurris has hinted——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>The boy is here to pour out the passionate torrent
of his love for your child Imogen. Speak, Colin.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>rouses himself, rises, and looks round</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Mother, you do it. [<i>He resumes his seat.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Ah, if we were at Castle Ballocheevin, with the
wind roaring round Ben Muchty, and the sound of
the pipers playing by the shores of Loch-na-Doich,
then you would hear Colin’s voice rise loud and high.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>As we are denied these obvious advantages, it is
almost necessary to ask you to explain—<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</SPAN></span>—</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>The lad has met your child on but three or four
occasions.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Just three occasions and a bit, mother.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>But he loves her with a love that only a Macphail
can experience.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Of course one would like to know precisely the
kind of affection that is.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Naturally. Speak, Colin.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>rises, embarrassed</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>I love her well enough.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Bravely said!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Delightful. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span>.]
A grand nature.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Go on, Colin.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>That’s all, mother. [<i>He resumes his seat.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] You have heard the lad?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Distinctly.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>As we are all to meet next month as Lord Drumdurris’s
guests at Drumdurris Castle, it would be
well if this engagement were settled at once.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Without delay.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>The question, of course, is whether Imogen—h’m!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Whether Imogen can return the affection——</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Which Sir Colin honours her by entertaining.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Has the lad your permission to pour into her ear
such impassioned words as he has just uttered to
us?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I think there can be no objection to <i>that</i>.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Certainly not.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>When will your daughter grant him an hour for
that purpose?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>An <i>hour</i>?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Three-quarters will be enough, mother.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Bravely said!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Charming!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>When, Julian?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>H’m! when?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>When? [<span class="smcap">Imogen</span>’s <i>voice is heard outside.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Calling.</i>] Mamma, dear!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>When? I suggest, now. Here is Imogen.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>rises hastily and awkwardly.</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh, I didn’t know you had visitors. [<i>Shaking
hands with</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Colin</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span>.] Sir Colin—Lady
Macphail.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Now, Julian, leave them together! Katherine!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Imogen, my dear.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>comes to</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>. <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>,
<i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>, <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>
<i>talk together.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Talk to Sir Colin for a few moments while I look
through my speech.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Certainly, papa. [<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>goes out.</i>] What
an awful task! [<i>Taking a book from the table.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Quietly to</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>.] Colin, let her hear how a
Macphail can love. [<i>Kissing him.</i>] My boy! [<i>To
the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] I’ll drive round
to Lady Macwhirter’s and return. Leave them!
Ah, the pipers shall play to the home-coming of a
bride at Castle Ballocheevin! [<i>She goes out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Come, Katherine. Think of it! To be the
mother-in-law of the head of the Clan Macphail!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Dora, what’s the use of a head with no tongue in
it?</p>
<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>go out.</i>
<span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>looks round uneasily.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>To himself.</i>] Where’s mother?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] Oh, why do they leave us! [<i>To</i>
<span class="smcap">Macphail</span>.] Were you at the dance of the Perth
Highlanders last night, Sir Colin?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Aye, I was.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Did you dance much?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Aye, I did.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] He must make the next remark.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Nerving himself and rising suddenly.</i>] Miss
Twombley!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Sir Colin!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>I—I just wish you had been there.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Do you? Why?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Because—because—because I’m thinking there
was room for more people.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh, of course. [<i>She goes to the window and looks
out.</i>] Lady Macphail is just driving away.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>No!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Yes, there she goes.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>goes hastily to the window and looks
out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>To himself.</i>] Oh! Mother!</p>
<p>[<i>He goes out quickly unnoticed by</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>She has turned the corner, Sir Colin. Did you
see her? Why, where is he?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>enters. She does not see him.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Good-bye, Imogen. [<i>She turns to him.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Ah! [<i>Falteringly.</i>] Why will you go away, Val?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>You know my craze. Everything in this country
is so stuck-up.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Mamma’s not—stuck-up, as you call it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Her gowns frighten me. My first recollection of
anything is Aunt Kitty in a print-skirt at a wash-tub.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Hush! don’t, Val!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>There now! you’re horrified!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>One doesn’t wish everybody to know.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Then that’s being stuck-up, Imogen.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Then we differ.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Of course. Everybody does differ from me in
this stuck-up country. Wish me good-bye.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Looking away.</i>] I presume my brother Brooke
is stuck-up also?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Well, he appears to have fallen into the starch after
that wash of Aunt Kitty’s.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Indeed. And papa?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Oh, of course, he’s ironed out by the House of
Commons.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>How very rude! [<i>Laying her hand on his arm.</i>] And am I—altered, Val?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Altered! The change is heart-breaking!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh, how cruel!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Altered! Where are the tiny tea-things with
which you once played at making tea in your old
school-room? Where is the hoop you used to trundle
in Portman Square—the skipping-rope Brooke
and I turned for you till our arms nearly dropped
from our shoulders? Where are the marbles I gave
you—the top I taught you to spin? I say, where
are these things and the jolly little girl who delighted
in them?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>With much dignity.</i>] I think you’re so violent
that it isn’t safe to speak to you. But I’ll ask you
one question.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Pray do.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Where is the good-tempered, curly-headed boy
for whom I used to make the tea; the boy who
taught me, very patiently, how to play the marbles
and to spin the top?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>You see him.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh, no. No, Val, no.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Imogen! You don’t mean, at any rate, that I’m
stuck-up?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>No, indeed, I think you’re shockingly stuck-down. [<i>He turns away, hanging his head. She comes to
him.</i>] There, now I’ve made you ashamed of yourself.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>No, you haven’t!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Then I will do so. Remain here. I will return
in a moment. Don’t stir! [<i>She runs out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Shall I run away? Ah, if she only knew how ardently
I wish that she had changed still more—how
I wish that she had grown quite unlovable or I had
forgotten how to love her! It’s hopeless; I <i>will</i>
run away.</p>
<p>[<i>He opens the door and the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>peeps in.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>May I come in?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Eh? Oh, certainly.</p>
<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] What has become of them? [<i>To</i>
<span class="smcap">Valentine</span>.] Pardon me, have you seen my niece,
Imogen?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>She has just left this room.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>With Sir Colin Macphail?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Oh, no.</p>
<p>[<i>A cab whistle is heard.</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>looks out of
the window.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] Where is he? I shan’t sleep till I
know it is settled.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Here’s Sir Colin—hailing a cab.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Ah! Something must have happened! [<i>She goes
hastily towards the door;</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>is in her way.</i>] Let me pass, please! I have a motive!</p>
<p>[<i>She goes out as</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>enters by another door carrying
a large old-fashioned box.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Valentine.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Why, what have you there?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>A modern young lady’s jewel casket. Open it,
please. [<i>Kneeling, he opens the box.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>[<i>Looking into the box.</i>] Imogen! The tea-things!
I recognize them!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>You see, I’ve never parted with my playthings,
Val.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>[<i>Dragging out a large, faded, once gaudy doll.</i>] And
here’s Rosa! I helped to cut out Rosa’s mantle.
Battered old Rosa!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Taking the doll from him.</i>] Don’t! Old she may
be, but her sex should protect her from insult.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>And here are my marbles! and the top! Ah, ah!
the skipping-rope! Imogen—perhaps—I—I’ve
done you an injustice.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Do you think so?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>I feared fashion had put your bright little nature
into tight corsets—but—I see—I see——</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Replacing the toys in the box.</i>] You see, Val.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>I see you have some affection for the time when
you were not Miss Twombley, but only—little
Jenny.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Ah!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Not that these old dumb things prove much.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh, Val!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>They prove their own existence—not the existence
of little Jenny.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Crying.</i>] How unjust you are!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Perhaps. But your words and actions are so unlike.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Wiping her eyes upon the doll’s frock.</i>] No, no.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>I fancy we are children again when I hear you;
but when I see your prim figure and stately walk I
miss the little girl whose hair never submitted to a
ribbon or a hairpin——</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p>[<i>Impulsively she lets down her hair and disorders
it wildly.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>[<i>Not observing her.</i>] I miss the little Jenny with
a tumbled frock, [<i>She quickly disarranges her bow
and sash.</i>] the thoughtless romp who was generally
minus one shoe!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Fiercely.</i>] Valentine!</p>
<p>[<i>She takes off a shoe and flings it away.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Jenny!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Now! play! play marbles!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>What!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Play marbles!</p>
<p>[<i>They go down upon their knees, she deliberately
arranges the marbles for the game, he staring
at her blankly.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>My mark—play.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>I beg your pardon, Jenny—I’ve been all wrong.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>You have indeed, Val. Play. [<i>He plays seriously.</i>] Not within a mile of it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>My eye is quite out.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>My turn.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>By Jupiter, you’re still a crack at it!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Am I? Then which of us has changed—you or
I? [<i>She lays her hand on his.</i>] Val, don’t go away
and live in a rock.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>What am I to do? I’m poor, Jenny, and I suppose
I’m crazy.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Any sort of horrid life would suit you, wouldn’t
it?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>I suppose it would.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Then ask Lord Drumdurris to make you a bailiff
or a head gamekeeper at Drumdurris.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Not rough enough.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Why, you could get dreadfully dirty and wet
through there every day.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>That’s true.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>And, Val, we’re all going up to Drumdurris next
month.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Are you?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Yes, and if you like, I—I’ll bring the marbles.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Imogen! Oh, I say! what?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Do you ever play marbles now, Brooke?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Marbles, no! Billiards.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>collects the marbles, and puts them
into the box.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>.] Keith! Oh, Keith, do me a
favour!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Certainly.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Offer my poor cousin, Mr. White, some post in or
about Drumdurris Castle.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>What kind of post?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Some wretched, inferior position in which he
needn’t be very polite.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>What will he say if I propose such a thing?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>He’ll be extremely rude, I think. But, oh, I
shall be so grateful, Keith.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Imogen! Child, what has happened to your
head?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>I—I’ve been playing marbles, mamma.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Not on your head?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>No, mamma, upon the floor.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>With Sir Colin?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Certainly not, mamma; I don’t know Sir Colin
nearly well enough to sit with him upon the floor.
[<i>Putting up her hair.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Darling, has Sir Colin made any remark of an interesting
nature?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>No—he stammered a little, and, while my back
was turned, he ran away after his mammy.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] I knew it! Why didn’t we lock him
in till he had provided for my poor child’s future?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>enters.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Probyn.</p>
<p>Mrs. Gaylustre is here, my lady.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh, that person!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>snatches up the box of playthings and hurries
out.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>enters.</i> <span class="smcap">Probyn</span> <i>retires.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To everybody.</i>] How d’ye do? How d’ye do?
Lord Drumdurris, charmed to see you. How are
you, Brooke?</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To himself.</i>] Brooke! Impudence!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>You look bilious, Kate.</p>
<p>[<i>She kisses</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>, <i>who sinks on to the
settee.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>.] It’s too bad of the Mater!
Fancy a fellow making a chum of his tailor—what?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Mr. White, may I speak to you?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Brooke</span>, <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>go out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Examining the flute.</i>] Pa has been tootling
again, Kate—we must buy him a drum.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah—h—h—h!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Hullo! What’s the matter?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>As if you didn’t know! Oh, those awful bits of
paper!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Still worrying about those little Bills of yours
which my brother Joseph holds, eh?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Those Bills! Why doesn’t the ink fade that’s on
them, or the house burn that holds ’em?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Impossible. Joseph and I have been taught to
believe that there is a special Providence watching
over all Bills of Exchange. Come, don’t fume—Bill
Number One doesn’t fall due till next month.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, Gaylustre, I shan’t be able to meet it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Shan’t you? Well, I dare say Jo and I will renew—if
you make much of us and pet us. Meanwhile,
don’t think of the Bills.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Think of ’em! I eat them—they’re on every
<i>ménu</i>; I drink them—they label the champagne.
My pillows are stuffed with them, for I hear their
rustle when I turn my restless head. Small as those
strips of blue are, they paper every wall of my
home!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>I should drive out, then, as much as possible.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>When I do the sky is blue!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Carelessly taking up a newspaper.</i>] At what time
do we leave here?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Sir Julian and I start at twelve.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>See that I’m not squeezed up in the carriage. I
don’t play at sardines in this gown.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Talking of sardines, I shall lunch here to-day, <i>en
famille</i>.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Gaylustre! you fiend! I—I can’t stand it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Don’t quite see how you’re going to get out of it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>It’s true I owe that brother of yours thousands.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Well, we <i>have</i> kept your establishment going for
some time.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>But I don’t owe <i>you</i> as much as a linen button!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Jo and I are one.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>No! I’ll never believe that a man—even a
money-lender—would dance a set of devilish quadrilles
on a lady when she’s down, as you’re doing.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Ha, ha!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I saw your brother on that one fatal night. Common
person that he is, he must have a heart under
his vulgar waistcoat.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Be careful! Don’t insult my Jo!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I compliment him! I will appeal to him to protect
me from your claws, Gaylustre!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Oh, you will, will you?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I will.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Very well then—do it! Kate Twombley, go to
that door and call my brother Jo!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>What!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Do it!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>What—do you—mean?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Open that door and call Jo!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>No, no! [<i>She opens the door and looks out.</i>] You are only frightening me!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Call—Mr. Lebanon!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Mr. Lebanon!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Outside.</i>] Heah!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>utters a cry of horror as</i> <span class="smcap">Mr. Joseph
Lebanon</span> <i>enters—a smartly dressed, unctuous,
middle-aged person, of a most pronounced common
Semitic type, with a bland manner and a contented
smile.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady Twombley, delighted to find myself in your
elegant ’ouse. Most <i>recherché</i>.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>How do you come here?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Fan brought me.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>How dare she?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>’Ow dare she? H’m! Fan, I ’ope and trust not
a coolness between you and Lady T.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>sinks into a chair.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>She was dying to see you—there’s no pleasing
her.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Dyin’ to see me! Flattered—flattered. [<i>He sits in
close proximity to</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] Deah Lady T,
you and I and nobody by, eh? Excuse my humour.
’Ow can I ’ave the honour of servin’ you? Don’t
’esitate, Lady T, don’t ’esitate.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I only wanted—to beg you—to rid me of that
viper.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>That’s going a little too far!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>There <i>is</i> a coolness—a triflin’, temporary coolness.
Fan, be reasonable—Lady T, be forgivin’. Kiss and
be friends.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I know that you’ve got me—what’s the expression?—on
something or another.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I ’ope “toast” is not the word you requiah, Lady
Twombley?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, yes, on toast.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh, Lady T.! Lady T.!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I know that if I can’t meet those awful Bills you
can drag my name into the papers, and set all London
grinning for a month.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh! Oh, Fan, is that my way of doin’ business?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>If you’re a nice, honest man—as you look—you’ll
take her away, and never, either of you, show your
ugl—show your faces here again.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Ah, Lady T., now we come to the aim and object
of the mornin’ call which I have the ’appiness of
making on you. Fan, you haven’t explained to Lady
T. You really must cut in.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>I shan’t. Explain yourself.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lebanon</span> <i>rises, replacing his chair.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>My dear Lady T., the long and the short of it is
that Fan and I have considerable social ambition.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You too! Not <i>you</i>!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>And why not? Fanny, cut in!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Go on, Jo dear.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady Twombley, it has been the desiah of Fan
and self, ever since that period of our lives which I
may describe as our checkered child’ood, to reach
the top of the social tree.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Hah!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady Twombley, you’ll pardon my remarking that
you are a little trying. I say, Fan and I desiah to
reach the top of the social tree, where the cocoanuts
are. Excuse my humour. Fan’s had a whirl or two
in the circles of fashion.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>She! A hanger-on to the skirts of Society!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>And very good skirts too when she makes ’em.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Jo, drop that.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Excuse my humour, Fan. As for me, from those
early boy’ood’s days when I made temporary ad<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</SPAN></span>vances
of ha’pence to my sister Fanny, promptly and
without inquiry, I have devoted myself to finance.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Finance!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>But now, Lady T—to use a poetic figure—I am
prepared to cut an eight on the frozen lake of
gentility.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Man!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I ignore the innuendo. Lady Twombley, I am
aware that for a successful <i>entrée</i> into Society I
requiah a—ha—a substantial guarantee. I ’ave,
therefore, the honour and the ’appiness to put myself
under your sheltering and I ’ope sympathetic wing.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You—you will drive me mad! You won’t dare to
call here, to contaminate my bell-handle, to send up
your hideous name!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh, Fan, I really can’t! This is descendin’ to a
mere wrangle. Pray cut in.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>No, Lady Twombley, as the Season is drawing to
a close, Joseph certainly does not intend to attach
himself to your London establishment.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Not for Joseph—excuse my humour.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>But he and I do mean to take our flight from
town with the rest of the swallows. [<i>Pointing to a
paragraph in the journal she still carries.</i>] Look here,
we saw this paragraph in the paper yesterday.
Read it.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>knocks the paper to the ground.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Insolent!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Jo, pet—read it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Fanny, this is really most trying. [<i>Picking up the
paper and reading.</i>] “There are already signs of an
exodus from town. Among the first of the notabilities
to turn their faces northward are Sir
Julian and Lady Twombley, who will spend the
autumn at Drumdurris Castle as the guests of
their nephew, Lord Drumdurris.”</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>What is this to you?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>What’s that to us!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Fan, what’s that to us! Lady Twombley, we entertain
a not unreasonable desiah to spend <i>our</i> autumn
at Drumdurris Castle.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>In the kitchen?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh, Fan, I really can’t! You must cut in again.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>As the guests of Lord Drumdurris.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Never!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Bill Number One falls due next month when you
are at Drumdurris Castle!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>No, no! Fan, do <i>not</i> mix up business with friendship.
You know my rule.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Get us to Drumdurris and we renew!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh, Fanny, how plainly you put it! Don’t!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Never!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Mr. Melton</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Melton.</p>
<p>The carriages are here, Lady Twombley.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I—I’ll come.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span> <i>enters talking to</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>. <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>,
<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>follow; then</i> <span class="smcap">Egidia</span>
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Angèle</span> <i>with the infant.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] Introduce me!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Never!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] Introduce him!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I will not!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady Twombley!</p>
<p>[<i>He produces his pocketbook, opens it, and gives
her a glimpse of the Bills.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>The Bills! Oh!</p>
<p>[<i>She makes a futile snatch at the pocketbook.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady Twombley, introduce me!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>enters, intent upon his speech, the MS. of
which he carries in his hand.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To himself.</i>] “I can conceive no position more
agreeable to a Minister of the Crown——” [<i>Seeing</i>
<span class="smcap">Lebanon</span>.] Eh?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Whispering to</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.] Now!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Julian, Lord Drumdurris, Brooke, let me introduce
to you—Mr. Lebanon.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Triumphantly to herself.</i>] Ah!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Triumphantly to himself.</i>] Ah! [<span class="smcap">Lebanon</span> <i>grasps</i>
<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>’s <i>hand warmly.</i>] De-lighted to find
myself in your elegant ’ouse. Most <i>recherché</i>. [<i>Shaking
hands with all the others.</i>] You all know my
sister Fan. Elegant ’ouse this. Most <i>recherché</i>.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>runs to</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>and taking
a flower from her dress fastens it in his coat.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>Outside.</i>] Katherine!</p>
<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>enters with her arm through</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>’s,
<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>following.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I’ve found the truant. He had a motive.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Quietly to</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span>.] Who’s the Judy?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span>.] Old Lady Drum.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Ah! [<i>Turning to the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>and seizing her
hand.</i>] De-lighted! ’Ope to have the pleashah of
meetin’ you up North.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Katherine!</p>
<p>[<i>There is a general expression of astonishment,
and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>sinks upon the settee.</i>]</p>
<p class="center"><big>END OF THE SECOND ACT.</big></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_THIRD_ACT" id="THE_THIRD_ACT"></SPAN>THE THIRD ACT.</h2>
<p class="spkr"><big>Disaster.</big></p>
<p><i>The scene is the inner hall at Drumdurris Castle,
Perthshire, leading on one side to the outer hall,
and on the other to the picture gallery. It is
solidly and comfortably furnished, and a fire is
burning in the grate of the large oaken fireplace.
It is an afternoon in August.</i></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>is sitting at the table reading over a letter she
has written.</i></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>“Dear Mr. White.” I shall never call him Valentine
again, except in my thoughts. [<i>Reading.</i>] “Dear Mr. White, I am sorry to hear that you are
discontented with your recent appointment to the
Deputy-Assistant-Head-Gamekeepership on the
Drumdurris estate, and that you consider it a sinecure
fit only for a debilitated peer.” Now for it. [<i>Resuming.</i>] “Permit me to take this opportunity of
informing you that I have at length consented to an
engagement between myself and Sir Colin Macphail
of Ballocheevin.” Oh, how awful it looks in ink! [<i>Resuming.</i>] “As it is becoming that I should support
such a position with dignity I would prefer
not encountering your dislike to ‘stuck-up people’
by ever seeing you again.” Oh, Val. <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</SPAN></span>“I therefore
suggest that you obtain a nastier appointment
than that of Deputy-Assistant-Head-Gamekeeper at
Drumdurris without delay.” That will do—beautifully. [<i>In tears.</i>] Oh, Val, why have you never
spoken? I know you are poor, but I would have
gone away with you and lived cheerfully and economically
in that rock if you had but asked me.
Why, why have you never asked me?</p>
<p>[<i>She sits on a footstool looking into the fire.</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>,
<i>in shooting dress, strolls in with</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>.
<i>They do not see </i><span class="smcap">Imogen</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Coolly.</i>] Well, then, Effie, I suppose I may regard
our engagement as a fixture—what? I needn’t
say you’ll find me an excellent husband.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Thanks, awfully. But perhaps you had better
mention the subject to me again at some other
time.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Well, I shall be rather busy for the next week or
two.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Oh, quite as you please. [<i>Giving him her hand.</i>] But you are really <i>too</i> impetuous.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Not at all. [<i>About to kiss her.</i>] You’ll permit me,
naturally?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>[<i>Languidly turning her cheek toward him.</i>] Of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</SPAN></span>
course. Be careful of my hair—it will not be
dressed again before lunch.</p>
<p>[<i>He kisses her cheek cautiously.</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>rises
without seeing them</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.] Somebody.</p>
<p>[<i>They stroll away in opposite directions</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>After all, as he has never been a lover, why
shouldn’t I see him and mention my engagement in
a calm, cool, ladylike way? [<i>Tearing up the letter
passionately.</i>] I must see him once more—in a
calm, cool, ladylike way. I’ll write just a line asking
him to come to me this morning.</p>
<p>[<i>As she sits to write</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>
<i>stroll in again and meet each other</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.] Good-morning.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>.] Good-morning.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Why, it’s Imogen! Oh, let me congratulate you. [<i>Kissing her.</i>] The news is too delightful.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Thank you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Accept my congratulations also. Splendid fellow,
Macphail; not one of those men who talk the top of
your head off.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Writing.</i>] No, not quite. Brooke, dear, will
you give Mr. White a little note from me?</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Certainly. By the bye, while I think of it, you’ll
be glad to hear that Effie has honored me by consenting
to—er—marry me—what!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Effie!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>How your mind does run on that subject, Brooke!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Throwing her arms round</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia’s</span> <i>neck.</i>] What happy people, both of you!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>My hair!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Kissing</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke.</span>] A thousand congratulations,
my dear, clever, old brother!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>The bother with mamma will be too wearying.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Why a bother?</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>About my pecuniary position, don’t you know.
You’ll hardly credit it, but I haven’t the least idea
what pa intends to do for me.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>But it doesn’t matter about that, so that you are
deeply attached to each other.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Oh, Imogen, that’s <i>too</i> ridiculous!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Quite absurd—what!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Besides, if you want money you can work.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, it’s no good everybody working. It’s this
stupid all-round desire to work that throws so many
men out of employment. I’ll look for Valentine. [<span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>gives him her note.</i>] He’s sure to be about.
We’re going to shoot over Claigrossie Moor this
morning. [<i>He goes out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>So you’ve made up your mind at last?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>No; other people have made it up for me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Mamma?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Yes, Aunt Dora is the principal person who has
rendered my life a burden to me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Oh, Imogen!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>It’s true. Every hour of the livelong day Aunt
Dora has goaded me on to this desirable, detestable
match; even at night she has stalked into my
room with a lighted candle, startling me out of my
beauty sleep, to tell me she will never rest till I am
Lady Macphail.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Imogen, it’s <i>too</i> kind of mamma to take this interest
in you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Interest! It’s torture. And at last she threatened
that if I married anybody else she would expire
in great pain and appear to me constantly, a
ghost, in her night-gown. Well, you’ve seen Aunt
Dora in her night-gown—you can guess my feelings.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>And that decided you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>I went to mamma and asked her advice.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>I guess what that was.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Mamma’s expression was that she’d give the heels
off her best shoes to see me provided for. And so,
late last night, while my maid Phipps was washing
my head, I gasped out a soapy sort of yes.</p>
<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>enters.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Where is Imogen?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Here, mamma.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>Embracing</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen.</span>] My favorite niece! I have
just learned your decision over the breakfast-table.
I was eating cold grouse at the moment; I thought
I should have choked.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>I hope you are satisfied, aunt.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Thoroughly. I feel now that I shall die, a great
many years hence, a contented woman. Effie.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Yes, mamma?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Don’t think you’re neglected, child. I cannot
provide for everybody at once.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>No, mamma.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>But having completely settled Imogen, I shall
commence the adjustment of your future after lunch.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Ah!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Dear Lady Macphail! What glorious news!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Rapturously, with her hand upraised.</i>] Now let
the worn banner of the Macphail be run up on the
crumbling tower of Castle Ballocheevin!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Certainly—by all means.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Now let the roar of the pipes startle the eaglets on
the summit of black Ben-Muchty!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I hope such arrangements will be made.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Let the shriek of the wild birds resound on the
shores of Loch-na-Doich!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>Bringing</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>forward</i>.] But you haven’t seen
Imogen yet.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Embracing her.</i>] Child! Ah, when Colin learns
your answer to his suit you shall listen to such words
as none but a Macphail can utter to his betrothed.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Doesn’t he know?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Not yet. He went out early to watch the sun
gild the gray peak of Ben-Auchter.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>enters, looking very troubled.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Mamma. [<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span>, <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>, <i>and</i>
<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>talk together.</i>] Mamma, everybody
has congratulated me. Have you nothing to say?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>places her hand fondly on</i>
<span class="smcap">Imogen</span>’s <i>head.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>In a sepulchral voice.</i>] Did Phipps dry your head
thoroughly last night?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Yes, mamma.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Then all’s well, I suppose. [<span class="smcap">Sir Julian’s</span> <i>flute is
heard. To herself.</i>] The first Bill—the first Bill due
next week.</p>
<p>[<i>She sits staring at the fire as</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>enters,
playing the flute.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Papa.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Imogen, my dear, amidst severe official worries<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</SPAN></span>
I must not omit to join in the general pæan of rejoicing.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Thank you, papa.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Sir Colin may lack that inexhaustible flow of
anecdote with which I have often been credited.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>He may, papa.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>But I confess I respect a man who will sit for
hours without saying anything. I wish there were
more like him in the House.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Julian, let the newspapers have the details of
Imogen’s engagement without delay.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh, no, aunt! Not yet.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Imogen, if I may use such an expression—fall-lall!
Suffice it, I have a motive.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>But why the papers?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>It is our duty to our friends. Do you think if
anything serious happened to me, my friends
wouldn’t like to hear of it without delay? Julian! [<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>writes</i>.] Besides, it will be current talk
at the dance to-morrow night.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>The dance! Aye! To-morrow night they shall
see a Macphail lead the Strathspey with the girl who
is to be his bride!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>No, indeed they won’t!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>What!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>I can’t make myself so supremely ridiculous.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Ridiculous!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Oh, Imogen!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Imogen!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Imogen!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>My dear!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>closes her eyes.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>
<i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>take her hands.</i>]</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sir Julian Twombley</span> and <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>.</p>
<p>My dear Lady Macphail!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Here is Sir Colin!</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Dowager</span> and <span class="smcap">Sir Julian Twombley</span>.</p>
<p>Ah!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>My boy!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Why, he is with Mrs. Gaylustre!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>That woman!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>That woman!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>That woman!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>That woman!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span>, <i>he in Highland
dress, she wearing a showy costume of tweed tartan
with a Scotch bonnet.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Colin, lad!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Eh, mother?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Dear Sir Colin gave me his arm to the top of Ben-Auchter.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Dowager</span> and <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail.</span></p>
<p>To the top of Ben-Auchter!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>With an anxious glance at</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre.</span>] Just
to see the sun rise.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>Quietly to</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian.</span>] Julian, that’s scandalous!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>I thought you always witnessed the sun rise alone,
Colin.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>As a rule, mother.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] That woman has a motive.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Pointing to</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen.</span>] My son, look—here is Imogen.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen.</span>] Good-morning.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Colin, lad, don’t you guess?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>No, mother.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Rapturously.</i>] Now let the worn banner of the
Macphail be run up on the crumbling tower of Castle
Ballocheevin!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Vacantly.</i>] For what reason, mother?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Now let the shriek of the wild birds sound on the
shores of Loch-na-Doich!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Why?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Embracing</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail.</span>] Imogen is to be your
bride.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Blankly.</i>] Oh!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>, <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>
<i>congratulate him.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Most gratified!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I have a mother’s yearnings toward you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>We are <i>too</i> rejoiced!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] They’ve hooked him!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Bringing</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>down.</i>] Hush! Speak to her,
Colin, lad. Let her hear how a Macphail greets the
woman of his choice.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>joins</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>, <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>,
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>, <i>while they all watch</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>
<i>as he approaches</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen.</span>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Listen!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen.</span>] Er—I’m very much obliged to ye.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Bravely spoken!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>A grand nature!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Thank you, Sir Colin. [<i>She joins the others.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>, <i>seizing his hand.</i>] May your life be
very, very blissful!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Uneasily, withdrawing his hand.</i>] Mother’s looking.
[<i>He joins the rest.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] They’ve hooked my Scotch salmon;
but they haven’t landed him yet! [<i>Intercepting</i>
<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>as she advances towards the group.</i>] Kate!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Reptile!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>I’m not at all satisfied with the way things are
going on here.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Aren’t you? I think things are beautifully smooth.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>I’m pretty comfortable at Drumdurris myself,
thank you; but I’m getting extremely anxious about
Joseph.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>So am I.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>I’m afraid Joseph isn’t enjoying his little holiday
at all. Did you observe him at dinner last night?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Who could help it? The man eats enough for
six.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>He’s obliged to, his holiday being so brief. But
these fine folks treat him as contemptuously as if he
were a snail in a cabbage.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Then why does he talk with the leg of a grouse
sticking out of the side of his mouth? Why does
he drink people’s health across the table and call
the men-servants “old chaps?”</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Dear Jo! There’s nothing classy about him.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>, <i>in shooting dress, enters, carrying a
light wooden box.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Why does he swallow his knife and build pyramids
with his bread; and tell long stories with no
meaning at all or else with two?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Well, you must take Jo as Heaven made him.
So you’d better make things smooth for him with
Lord Drumdurris. If not—<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</SPAN></span>—</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>If not?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>If not, Jo might, after all, decline to renew.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>And then there would be the devil to pay,
wouldn’t there?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>As far as I can see there are two devils to pay
already.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Ha, ha! Here’s Drumdurris. Remember.</p>
<p>[<i>After talking to the others</i>, <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span> <i>approaches</i>
<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>, <i>bowing stiffly to</i>
<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span>, <i>who shakes her fist behind his
back,</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>gives a small nervous
shriek.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Aunt?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>With her hand to her heart.</i>] Spasms.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Smiling sweetly at</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris.</span>] Delightful
morning.</p>
<p>[<i>She takes up a newspaper.</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady
Euphemia</span> <i>stroll out.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris.</span>] Keith, dear, I want to say a
word to you about—dear Mr. Lebanon.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Ah! Aunt!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Have patience, Keith!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Patience!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>When I begged you to entertain him at Drumdurris
I didn’t deceive you. I distinctly told you
he was one of nature’s noblemen.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>I would do much to please you, Aunt Kate, but
this individual and his sister——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You must follow the democratic tendencies of the
age, Keith. The peer must go hand in hand with
the pig.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Yes, but let it be the companionable, clubable
pig. Oh, I have just left him at the breakfast-table.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Is he making a tolerable breakfast this morning?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>He seems to be making every breakfast in Great
Britain.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I see him at it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>He consumes enough coffee to put a fire out.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Yes; and he swoops down on a cold bird like a
vulture.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>It’s hideous to see him hurl himself at an omelette.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I know; and with eggs he’s a conjurer. What’s
he engaged on now?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>When I left him he was an unrecognizable mass
of marmalade. He must go!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Don’t disregard the sacred laws of hospitality!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>I must. At another time I might endure him,
but now when I am utterly crushed by my own
agonizing trouble—— Hark!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>What’s the matter?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>My son.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Angèle</span> <i>appears with the infant.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>[<i>Mysteriously.</i>] Is it alright, milord?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Hush! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley.</span>] Is Egidia there?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>re-enter.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>joins</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady
Euphemia.</span>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Angèle.</span>] All right. [<i>Fondly to the infant.</i>] My soldier boy! [<span class="smcap">Angèle</span> <i>advances to</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris.</span>
<i>He produces a small toy gun and a little drum from a
box he carries and hands them to</i> <span class="smcap">Angèle.</span>] Don’t let
Lady Drumdurris discover these.</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Above all, let the drum be muffled.</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Yees, milord.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>I expect some small cannon by the evening post.
Go.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>comes between</i> <span class="smcap">Angèle</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>,
<i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>following.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Ah!</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Oh, miladi!</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>I am right, then.</p>
<p>[<i>She takes the toys from</i> <span class="smcap">Angèle</span> <i>and points to
the door.</i> <span class="smcap">Angèle</span> <i>withdraws with the infant.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Keith—Egidia! Don’t disagree here!</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris.</span>] I was loth to credit you with
such treachery.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Name some convenient hour to disagree this
afternoon. I will willingly be present.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>I have long suspected this conspiracy to anticipate
my son’s mature judgment. Keith, there is a
gulf between us which can never be bridged over.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>joins the others.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Mother, my life is wasted.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <i>roughly dressed in cords and gaiters,
enters, followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke.</span>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Are you ready, Lord Drumdurris?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>We are waiting, I presume, for Mr. Lebanon.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>I’ll go and stir him up. Ugh! What!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>goes out</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>You’ll not join us, Sir Julian?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I daren’t. Melton has arrived from town with a
mass of papers for my signature. [<i>Quietly to</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>.] The Rajputana Canal Question is wearing
me out.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>[<i>Whispering to</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>.] I have your note. I’ll
return in a few minutes.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Outside.</i>] Shootin’, my dear sir! When I was in
the South ’Ampstead Artillery I could have shown
you what shootin’ was.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>There’s Jo. [<i>She goes out to meet</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">All.</p>
<p>[<i>With various expressions of disgust.</i>] Ugh! that
man!</p>
<p>[<i>All gather into groups, as</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span>, <i>looking very
ridiculous in Highland costume, enters, followed
by</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke.</span>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Slapping</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>on the back.</i>] Mac, dear old
boy, ’aven’t seen you this morning. [<span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>turns
away distrustfully.</i>] Lady Mac, I ’ear delightful
whispers.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Sir?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>An approachin’ ’appy event. We’re like the
doves—we’re pairin’ off, hey; we’re pairin’ off? [<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>stares at him and turns away. He
wipes his forehead anxiously.</i>] It’s a little difficult to
keep up a long conversation with ’em. They’re not
what I should term Rattlers. [<i>Eyeing</i> <span class="smcap">Egidia</span>.] The
fair ’ostess. Ahem! We missed you at the breakfast-table,
Lady Drum. Can’t congratulate you on your
peck—excuse my humour.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>stares at him and joins</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span>.] [<i>To himself.</i>] They’re a chatty lot; I must say
they’re a chatty lot. I wish Fanny would stick by me
and cut in occasionally. There’s Lady T. <i>She</i> can’t
ride the ’igh ’orse, at any rate. Lady T.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Mr. Lebanon?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>You didn’t honour me with my game of crib last
night.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I—I had a headache.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Never ’ad a ’eadache in my life—don’t know ’ow
it’s spelt.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>It’s spelt with an H.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>, <i>offering her flowers from his
coat.</i>] Lady Effie, my floral offering.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>catches up her skirts and sweeps
past him.</i>]</p>
<p>[<i>To himself.</i>] Chatty, hey? Chatty? [<i>He comes
face to face with the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>, <i>who glares at him.</i>] Hah! H’m! [<i>Offering her the flowers.</i>] I—ah—had
these picked for you, by Jove, I did. A present
from Joseph.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>What, sir!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Replacing the flowers in his coat.</i>] Excuse my
humour. [<i>Wiping his brow again.</i>] Chatty! I do
wish Fan would cut in and help me. [<i>Slaps</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>
<i>on the shoulder.</i>] Twombley, old fellow.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Sir!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Not comin’ out with us to-day, hey?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Gettin’ past it, I suppose?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I am kept indoors by pressure of work, Mr.
Lebanon.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh, of course, the Rajputana Canal Question, hey?
I’m a big shareholder in the Rajputana Railway, yer
know. I say, tell me——</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I cannot discuss official matters with you.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>turns from him.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>To himself as he sits down.</i>] Chatty! Chatty!
I know what this’ll end in. It’ll end in my standin’
on my dignity. Where’s Fanny? [<i>Addressing the
others.</i>] Talkin’ about shootin’, I’ll tell you an
amusin’ little story.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>and others sotto voce.</i>] No, no!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>It’s all about myself.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Whispering to the others.</i>] Good-bye. We’re off.</p>
<p>[<i>There is a general movement, the ladies and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir
Julian</span> <i>saying good-bye to the shooters, unnoticed
by</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span>, <i>who has his back to them.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I was spendin’ a day or two down in Essex with
my old friend, Captain Bolter, South ’Ampstead
Artillery. Dear old Tom—great favourite with the
gals. Excuse my humour.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>, <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>, <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia Vibart</span>,
<span class="smcap">Sir Julian Twombley</span>, <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span>,
and <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>.</p>
<p>[<i>Quietly to the shooters.</i>] Good-bye.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>It was wild-fowl Tom and I were after. We were
lyin’ in a ditch waitin’ for the ducks to drift in with
the tide. [<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span> <i>continues his story all the
others gradually and quietly disperse.</i>] I counted fifty-seven
birds through my glass. So said I to Tom,
“Tom, I’m in dooced good form, my boy.” “Devil
you are!” said Tom. “And I lay you a pony to a
penny that fifteen of those birds fall to my gun.”
“Done!” said Tom. [<i>He is now alone in the room.</i>] Well, to make a short story a long one—excuse my
humour—Tom sneezed. Up I got. So did the
ducks. And then what the dooce d’ye think
’appened? I say, what the dooce d’ye think—— [<i>Discovering that he is alone.</i>] Well, I’m—— Chatty,
ain’t they? Chatty!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Jo! why aren’t you with the shooters?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Why! They hooked it while I was tellin ’em the
tale of Tom Bolter and the ducks.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Never mind, my pet.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>It’s rude—that’s what it is—it’s dooced rude.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Come along, we’ll walk on to the moor.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>What, are you going too, Fan?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Yes, dear. Your poor Fanny has a little bit of
fun on.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh, Fan, if I only ’ad your confidence, your push.
But the rudeness of these people is gettin’ on my
nerves.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Why, Joseph!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I feel a little ’urt, Fan—a little ’urt.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Mr. Lebanon!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Hi! Where are they?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Just starting in the drag. Be quick.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span>.] Come on! They shall
hear about Tom Bolter and the ducks before I’ve
done with ’em. Come on!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span> <i>hurry out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Outside.</i>] Hi! Hi!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>That fellow was born to hail an omnibus.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>appears.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Not seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>.] Will he be long? [<i>She
encounters him.</i>] Oh! You are not neglecting
your duties, I hope, Valentine?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>I shall follow the others in the cart. Your note
was marked “urgent.”</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Was it?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>[<i>Showing her letter.</i>] “Urgent.”</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>What a thoughtless habit it is to mark all one’s<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</SPAN></span>
letters “urgent.” All I wanted to say to you is
this—but it isn’t urgent.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>No, no—I understand that.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>I merely had a foolish desire to be the first to
acquaint you of my—undeserved happiness.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>What happiness don’t you deserve?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>The happiness of becoming Lady Colin Macphail,
Valentine.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Oh. Is that—all?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>That’s all—just at present.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Hah! You’ll be a fine lady now, past recovery.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>I shall endeavour to adequately fill the station of
life to which fate has called me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>All that sweet simplicity of yours in London was
purely an assumption, I suppose?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Things are—what they appear.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>But you have your heart’s desire at last, I presume?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>I—I presume I have.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>[<i>Burying his head in his hands.</i>] Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>What are you going to do next?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Japan.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Nice part of Japan?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>The murderous districts.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh! Then you don’t propose to—return alive?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Not according to my present arrangements.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>You—you had better follow the shooters to
Claigrossie now.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Certainly.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>I am glad to have had this gossip over our pros<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</SPAN></span>pects.
We—we both seem to be doing well. Good-morning.</p>
<p>[<i>She offers her hand, which he takes ungraciously.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Good-morning.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>You haven’t congratulated me yet—in the usual
way.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Will you be happy with—him?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>I think—partially.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>But you’re not going to partially marry Sir Colin.
How dare you do this?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>He was the first to ask me, Val.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>The first to ask you! You don’t mean to suggest
that any other man would have done!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>No—not <i>any</i> other.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p><i>Some</i> other?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>It’s too late now—but yes.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>A poor man?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Val!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Would <i>I</i> have stood the remotest chance?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>It’s too late now.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Would I? Would I?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>No. Nor any other nineteenth century savage.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Savage!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Mr. White, it is very much too late now; but
why, when you returned to England, didn’t you
wear uncomfortable clothes like other gentlemen,
and a very high collar, and varnished boots, like
other gentlemen?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Why? Because I cannot be false to my principles.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>People say that principles which deal too much
with the outside of things are nothing but affectations.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Imogen!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>If a man has a good heart he should have a good
hat.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Imogen—Jenny! If I had ever come to you—in
a good hat——</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>If you had, then when mamma urged me to marry
perhaps she would not have blamed me for——</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>For what?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>For liking some pleasant-looking gentleman who
laughed at harmless follies instead of scolding them.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>And now?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Now! Now—it is too late.</p>
<p>[<i>She falls into his arms; he embraces her.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Outside.</i>] Hi, hi! Come here! hi!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Ah!</p>
<p>[<i>She breaks from</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>and runs out, as</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span>
<i>enters, very pale and upset.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Clinging to <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>.</i>] Old fellow!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>What’s the matter with you?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Gurrrh! You—you’re wanted!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Good gracious!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Something has happened, I’m afraid.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>goes out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span>.] You’re ill!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I’m upset.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Too much breakfast!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>No. I—I’ve peppered Macphail.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Peppered him! Can’t you take your mind off
eating?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>You don’t understand. I was in the wagonette,
tellin’ ’em the story of Tom Bolter and those beastly
ducks. I got ’old of a beastly gun and just as I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</SPAN></span>
was demonstrating how I shot the fifteen beastly
birds——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>It went off!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Well! Don’t make such a fuss about it!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah! and it was pointed at Sir Colin!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Pointed at him! No! His legs were stuck right
in the way.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Heavens!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Be quiet! Make light of it—make light of it, like
I do!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Now, now I hope you’re content!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>No, I’m not. I wouldn’t have had this ’appen
for ’alf a sovereign. This ’Ighland ’oliday of mine
is gettin’ on my nerves.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Your nerves!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Yes, Lady T. Imagine what it must mean to
a shy man to spend a rollickin’ August with a lot<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</SPAN></span>
of people whose chief occupation is staring at the
tips of their own aquiline noses.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Hysterically.</i>] Ha, ha, ha!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Imagine what it must be to a shy man to find himself
always leading the conversation, instead of following
it with a sparkling comment or two, as I’m
in the ’abit of doin’ in my own circle. Think of me
starting every topic and arguing on it till my
throat’s sore; making every joke and roaring at it
till I get blood to the head. Sometimes when I’m
in the middle of a long story and not a soul listening
I feel so lonely I—I could almost cry.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Then out of your own sufferings why can’t you
find some compassion for mine?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>It’s pathetic—that’s what my position is—it’s
dooced pathetic.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>In mercy’s name why don’t you retire quietly to
your room and pack?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>What! Throw up the sponge?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You needn’t throw up your sponge—<i>pack</i> your
sponge.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I understand, Lady T—hook it!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>“Hook it” is a harsh way of putting it. Bring
your visit to a close. Think of what you are losing
here! Think of Margate, where I feel you must
have many dear friends!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I—I’ve half a mind to.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ha! Bless you, Mr. Lebanon, bless you! I’ll
fetch you a Bradshaw.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Stop! I forgot the hop.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>The hop?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>There’s a ball here to-morrow night.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>For heaven’s sake, don’t wait for the hop.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I had half-a-dozen lessons in the Scotch Reel before
I left town.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>And you would risk the Reel on half-a-dozen lessons!
Madman!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Half-a-dozen lessons at store prices. Dash it all,
you wouldn’t ’ave me waste ’em!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Hopeless!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>enters unobserved by Lebanon or</i>
<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Look ’ere, Lady T! I’m sorry to disappoint a
lady, but it ain’t Mr. Joseph Lebanon’s principle to
do something for nothing.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>No. If you lent a lady your arm you’d do it at
interest.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I’m not alludin’ to our pleasant financial relationship,
Lady T. What I infer is that if after the
forthcoming hop I drag myself away from my sorrowin’
friends at Drumdurris I expect a—ah—a solatium.
[<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>remains watching and listening.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>A what?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady T, my pride has been wounded in this ’ouse—my
self-respect has been ’urt.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ha, ha, ha! Pardon me, I’m hysterical.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>If you could ’eal my feelings by rendering me a
service——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>To be rid of you?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh, Lady T, ’ow plainly you put it! Well, yes.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Try me. [<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>disappears suddenly.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>’Ush! Thought I ’eard somebody. Lady T, you
are aware that Mr. Joseph Lebanon’s position in
the financial world is an eminent one.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I wasn’t aware of it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Take it from me, Lady T, take it from me. But
that distinguished position might be advanced by
the success of some delicate little financial operations
which I’m on the brink of, Lady Twombley, on the
brink of. Lady T, if I could know twenty-four
hours in advance of the prying newspapers the decision
of the Government on the Rajputana Canal
Question it would go far to ’eal the wound my self-respect
has received in this <i>recherché</i> ’Ighland ’ome.
You follow me, Lady T?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I suppose you mean that when the decision of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</SPAN></span>
the Government is known in the City something or
other will go up and something or other will go
down on the Stock Exchange? Is that it?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>That’s it, Lady T, that’s it! And some fellers will
make fortunes! Oh, Lady T!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>But why do you bother a poor woman with a
headache——</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Because without the gentle guidance of tender-hearted
woman I can’t find out whether the Government
is going to grant the concession for the cutting
of the Rajputana Canal. Oh, Lady Twombley,
let me ’ave five minutes alone with Sir Julian’s
papers in Sir Julian’s room.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Mr. Lebanon!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Two minutes! A stroll round. I’ll go in with a
duster and tidy up.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Or give me a glimpse of some of the documents
Mr. Melton brought with him in that box yesterday.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I want some fresh air!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Wait! If you’ll do this for me I’ll clear out of
Drumdurris with Fanny on Thursday morning.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah, no!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>And I’ll hand you back your acceptances—every-one
of ’em—I will—on my word of honour as a
gentleman!</p>
<p>[<i>She seizes him by the throat and shakes him
violently.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>How dare you! How dare you tempt me!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Arranging his hair and moustache with his pocket
comb and mirror.</i>] Oh, ladies are trying in business—they
are dooced trying.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You—you wretch! Do you think I haven’t endured
enough for the past three months without
this? Oh, pa, what will you say to your Kitty when
you know the disgrace she’s brought on you! Oh,
my chicks, my chicks, my blessed chicks!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady Twombley, my pride has been wounded,
my self-respect has been ’urt in this <i>recherché</i> ’Ighland
’ome for, I ’ope, the last time. I shall retire
from the hop early to-morrow night and hook it—bring
my visit to a close—on Thursday morning.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Thank you.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Next week the first bit of paper bearin’ the honoured
name of woman falls doo.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I repeat the word, d-u-e, doo.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Mr. Lebanon!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Our interview has been a distressin’ one, Lady
Twombley. It is over.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Mr. Lebanon! Mr. Lebanon! [<i>He turns his chair
from her. To herself.</i>] It’s all up with me. I—I’ll
go and find pa, and tell him. There’s no help
for it—I’ll tell him. Mr. Lebanon! For the last
time—have compassion on a poor fool of a woman! [<i>He turns away.</i>] Oh! I’ll go to pa’s room and—tell
him. [<i>She goes out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>That’s one way to the old gentleman’s room. [<i>He
opens the door and listens.</i>] Ah! what’s the latest
quotation for lovely woman’s weakness?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>,
<i>who looks very scared, has a handkerchief
bound round his knee, and leans on</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre’s</span>
<i>arm. She supports him to a chair.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Colin</span>.] Lean on your poor broken-hearted
friend.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>To himself.</i>] Oh, the dooce!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>I’ll find Lady Macphail. [<i>He goes out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Whispering to</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span>.] Get out of sight!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Quietly to her.</i>] Can’t. I must wait here—I’ve
got an important little affair on.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>So have I. Leave us!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh, my goodness, how selfish you are, Fanny!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Selfish! you’ll ruin my prospects in life! Brute!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Vixen!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Bah!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Bah!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lebanon</span> <i>goes out.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>throws herself
on her knees beside</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>.]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>How do you feel now?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Well, its tingling.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Tingling! You bear it like a hero.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>I appreciate the compliment, but I’m thinking I’m
only a bit singed.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Ah, but why, why do you indulge in these reckless
sports?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>I was merely sitting in the drag looking at the
sky.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Sitting in the drag looking at the sky! How
foolhardy!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Whereupon your brother, without a word of warning,
blazed away at my knee.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Ah, don’t describe it! Suppose you had had your
head on your knee!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Outside.</i>] Take me to Colin!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>My mother!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] Drat your mother.</p>
<p>[<i>She stands with her handkerchief to her eyes.</i> <span class="smcap">Lady
Macphail</span> <i>enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Egidia</span>, <i>the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span>,
<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Sir Colin!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>Sitting at writing-table.</i>] I’ll telegraph to Sir
George McHarness, the surgeon.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Now let the wail of the lament waken the echoes
of black Ben-Muchty!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Rising from the chair.</i>] It’s not at all necessary,
mother.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>He can stand!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>Writing.</i>] “Bring—chloroform—and knives.”</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Ah, Colin, lad, why did we ever quit the gray
shores of Loch-na-Doich?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>I’ll go upstairs and bathe my knee, mother.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>leads him.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>He can walk!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Madam, a Macphail can always walk under any
circumstances.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>Reading the telegram she has written.</i>] “If—in—doubt—amputate.”</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span>, <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>, <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>, <span class="smcap">Lady
Euphemia</span>, <span class="smcap">Egidia</span>, <i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>go out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Weeping till the others are out of sight</i>.] Joseph
will die of remorse! [<i>Calling.</i>] The coast is clear,
Joseph. Jo!</p>
<p>[<i>As she goes out</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>enters in great agitation,
clutching an important-looking document.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Kitty, what have you done! Kitty, what have
you done!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lebanon</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady T! Thought so! [<i>Seeing the paper.</i>] Oh
my goodness, what has she got there?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I must—I must find Julian! Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Snatching the paper from her.</i>] Excuse me!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah! give me back that paper!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady T, oh, Lady T!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Following him round the table.</i>] Give me back that
paper! Dear, sweet Mr. Lebanon!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Reading the paper.</i>] Ha!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah! don’t read it!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>My friend Sir Julian’s own writing! The Rajputana
Canal is a blessed fact! Lady Twombley,
I forget my wounded pride, I forgive the blow to
my self-respect. You have won a place in Jo Lebanon’s
heart.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Give me back that paper and forget it!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Returning the paper.</i>] Give it you back? Delighted.
Forget it? Oh, Lady T, Lady T.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Devil!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady Twombley, Joseph Lebanon is, above all
things, a man of honour. [<i>Handing Bills to</i> <span class="smcap">Lady
Twombley</span>.] Lovely woman’s Acceptances.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I won’t take them. I won’t buy them back at
such a price.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Natural delicacy. [<i>Laying the Bills on the table.</i>] You can pick ’em up when I’m gone.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, what a wicked woman I am!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I can get out of these beastly clothes, drive to
Strachlachan Junction, and wire to town before
feedin’ time. The city is on the eve of a financial
earthquake! Joseph’s name will be a ’ouse’old word
from Mile End to Kensington! Lady Twombley, we
meet at the hop to-morrow night for the last time—in
Society. [<i>Boisterously.</i>] Whoop! Dash Society! [<i>He performs a few steps of a Highland dance.</i>] Excuse
my humour. [<i>He goes out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>The Bills! The Bills! They mustn’t lie there.</p>
<p>[<i>As she goes to the table</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>, <i>looking very
white and dishevelled, enters, and, standing
opposite to her, takes up the Bills and presents
them to her.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Pa!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Lady Twombley!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, my gracious!</p>
<p>[<i>She drops on her hands and knees at</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian’s</span>
<i>feet.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You’ve found me out, pa! You’ve found me
out!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I have found you out.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>How did you manage it?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>By degrading myself to the position of an eavesdropper.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>That’s pretty mean, pa—ain’t it?</p>
<p>[<i>Seeing that he is examining the Bills she puts up
her hands and seizes them.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah! Don’t tot ’em up! Don’t tot ’em up!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Katherine, when I first saw you, three-and-twenty
years ago, you were standing over a tub in the tiled<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</SPAN></span>
yard of your father’s farm wringing out your little
sister’s pinafores.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Weeping.</i>] Oh-h-h!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Could I have looked forward I should have
known that you would one day wring my feelings
as you do now.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Pa, I’ve fallen into the hands of the unscrupulous.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Woman!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, don’t call me that, pa!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>The unscrupulous! You have lost the right to
ever again use that serviceable word.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>What do you mean?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>How do you come by those Bills?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Julian, you know! [<i>Going toward him on her
knees frantically.</i>] Ah, don’t stare like that! [<i>Putting
her arms round him.</i>] Husband! Dear husband,
you are glaring like an idiot! Listen! [<i>She
shakes him violently.</i>] Listen! When that reptile
tempted me I ran upstairs intending to tell you all.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</SPAN></span>
I did. Oh, pa, don’t stare at nothing! I knocked
at your door; there was a drumming in my ears,
and I fancied your voice answered me telling me to
enter. Oh, try winking, pa, try winking! Your
room was empty—left unguarded, the door unlocked.
I entered. Wink, pa; for mercy’s sake, wink! I
sank into a chair to wait for your coming, [<i>Taking
the written paper from her pocket.</i>] and there, on
your table, right before my eyes, I saw this thing
like a white ghost.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>A memorandum in my writing that the concession
for the Rajputana Canal is to be granted.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Yes, yes. I tried to forget it was there. But
the chairs and tables seemed to dance before me
and every object in the room had a voice crying
out, “Kitty, you silly woman, get back your Bills
from that demon who is plaguing you!” I put my
fingers in my ears and then the voices were shut up
in my brain, and still they shrieked, “Kitty, get
back your Bills! Get back your Bills!” I snatched
up this paper and ran from the room. Even then if
I had met you, Julian, I should have been safe; but
whenever Old Nick wants to play the deuce with a
married lady he begins by taking her husband for a
stroll, and so I fell into Lebanon’s clutches—and I—I—I’m
done for! [<i>She sinks into a chair.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Katherine, those Bills must be returned to the
creature, Lebanon.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Yes. And—and—pa, dear, you’ll never speak
kindly to me after this, will you?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I trust I shall be invariably polite to you, Katherine.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh-h-h! We shall be whitewashed in the Bankruptcy
Court eventually, I suppose?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>All in good time, Katherine.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>And then—what then?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Then we must hope for a cottage, and a small
garden where we can grow our own vegetables and
learn wisdom.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Our—own—vegetables. And years hence, pa,
sometimes when I am sitting over my knitting,
you’ll forget the past, and play your flute again, and
be happy?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Katherine! [<i>He takes his flute from his pocket
and breaks it into pieces across his knee.</i>] Never,
never again, Katherine. [<i>As he is leaving her.</i>] One
pang of remorse I can spare you, Katherine.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Don’t!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>You believe you have betrayed a solemn secret
of the Government to that unprincipled money-lender.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Of course.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>That you have <i>not</i> done.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Pa!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>No, Katherine. Overhearing his shameful proposition,
and fearing your weakness, I had time to
hasten to my room, conceal all important papers,
and scribble the memorandum you abstracted.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Why, then——</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>That writing records the exact reverse of the
truth.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>And—and Joseph?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>In the language of the vulgar—Mr. Lebanon is
sold. [<i>He goes out.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Julian! Ah! [<i>Staring at the paper.</i>] The exact
reverse of the truth! Then the Rajputana Canal——
Julian, why should you be first blackened
and then whitewashed because of your vagabond
wife? A cottage—our our own vegetables! Never!
Why shouldn’t <i>I</i> have <i>my</i> delicate little financial
operations in the City? Oh, my gracious!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>enter.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Hullo, Mater—what!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Brooke! Keith! You boys must drive me over
to Strachlachan Junction. I must telegraph to
London backwards and forwards all day. Keith, put
me into communication with your Stockbroker in
town!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Aunt!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Silence! I’m on the brink of some delicate little
financial operations! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span>.] Get out the
cart!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>The drag’s outside.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Come on!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lebanon</span> <i>enters hastily.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Hi, Drumdurris! Let me ’ave a carriage to go to
Strachlachan Junction. I want to wire to town.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Do you? So do we. We’ll give you a lift.
Come on! [<i>They all hurry out.</i>]</p>
<p class="center"><big>END OF THE THIRD ACT.</big></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2><SPAN name="THE_FOURTH_ACT" id="THE_FOURTH_ACT"></SPAN>THE FOURTH ACT.</h2>
<p class="spkr"><big>Dancing.</big></p>
<blockquote><p><i>The scene is still the inner hall of Drumdurris
Castle, now brilliantly lighted and florally decorated,
the evening after the events of the previous
act.</i></p>
</blockquote>
<p><i>Waltz-music is heard, then a slight scream, and</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span>,
<i>in full Highland costume, enters hastily.</i></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I wouldn’t ’ave ’ad it ’appen for ’alf a sovereign.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">The Munkittrick</span>, <i>a fiery old gentleman in Highland
dress, enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">The Munkittrick.</p>
<p>Sir, I am most indignant!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I’ve explained. I felt myself goin’ and I caught
at what came nearest.</p>
<p class="spkr">The Munkittrick.</p>
<p>My daughter came nearest.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I know. Don’t make such a fuss about it! Do
remember we’re at a ball!</p>
<p class="spkr">The Munkittrick.</p>
<p>Miss Munkittrick is torn to ribbons.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>All right. Make light of it—make light of it, like
I do.</p>
<p class="spkr">The Munkittrick.</p>
<p>Ah-h-h!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>, <i>in Highland dress, enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Miss
Munkittrick</span>, <i>who is much discomposed, and</i>
<span class="smcap">Egidia</span>, <i>who is soothing her.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Munkittrick</span>.] My dear sir!</p>
<p class="spkr">Miss Munkittrick.</p>
<p>Papa!</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Oh, Flora, Flora!</p>
<p class="spkr">The Munkittrick.</p>
<p>Lord Drumdurris!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Let it blow over. We’re all forgettin’ we’re at a
ball.</p>
<p class="spkr">The Munkittrick.</p>
<p>Miss Munkittrick has been rolled upon the floor.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>She was passin’ at the time—I didn’t select her.
Don’t be so conceited!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lebanon</span> <i>continues to explain</i>. <span class="smcap">Munkittrick</span> <i>is indignant</i>;
<span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span> <i>endeavors to soothe him</i>.
<span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>enters carrying a satin shoe, which he
presents to</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Munkittrick</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Awfully sorry—what? [<span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>hurries out</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Miss Munkittrick.</p>
<p>Where is papa?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>enters, carrying an aigrette</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh, Miss Munkittrick, what a shocking mishap!</p>
<p>[<i>They fasten the aigrette in</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Munkittrick’s</span> <i>hair</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Miss Munkittrick.</p>
<p>Have you seen my papa?</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>, <i>carrying a sash, hurries in as</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>
<i>goes off</i>. <span class="smcap">Miss Munkittrick</span> <i>rises</i>; <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>
<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>adjust the sash hastily</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>[<i>Adjusting the sash.</i>] My dear Flora, this is <i>too</i> unfortunate!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>re-enters with another shoe</i>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>The other—what! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>.] There
are some more pieces—come and help.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>hurry out</i>.]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Miss Munkittrick.</p>
<p>I want my papa! [<i>Seeing</i> <span class="smcap">Munkittrick.</span>] Ah!</p>
<p class="spkr">The Munkittrick.</p>
<p>[<i>Giving her his arm.</i>] Flora, we’ll go home.</p>
<p class="spkr">Miss Munkittrick.</p>
<p>Papa, I’m not nearly <i>all</i>.</p>
<p>[<i>Her aigrette is very much on one side, her sash
is trailing, and she limps away carrying one
slipper.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Pray don’t think of going!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Let it blow over!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>My dear sir!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh, very well, you’re losing the best of the ball.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">The Munkittrick</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Munkittrick</span> <i>go out, followed
by</i> <span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris.</span> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>,
<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>enter hastily, each
carrying a fragment of</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Munkittrick</span>’s <i>dress.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>[<i>Taking the remnants.</i>] Allow me—allow me—my
affair.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Imogen</span>, <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>go out.</i>
<span class="smcap">Lebanon</span> <i>crams the pieces of</i> <span class="smcap">Miss Munkittrick’s</span>
<i>dress under a chair cushion.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Let it blow over. Where’s my partner?</p>
<p>[<i>He goes out.</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span>
<i>upon his arm.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Staying out is infinitely preferable to dancing, is
it not, dear Sir Colin?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Aye. I hate dancing.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>But your dear mother says you resemble some
beautiful wild thing when you dance the Strathspey.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>That’s because I hate it; the Strathspey’s enough
to make a lad wild.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Witty boy!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Eh, do you think I’m naturally quick?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Quick?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Quick in my understanding?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>I’m sure of it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Eh, I’m glad you think I’m quick.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Why?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Because Ballocheevin—that’s our place, you understand—Ballocheevin
is enough to soften a lad’s
brain.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Then why hide your light at Ballocheevin?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Well, the Macphails have lived there since eleven
hundred and two.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>How romantic!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>So mother’s just got out of the way of moving.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Charming attachment to an old home.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Aye, it’s old. It hasn’t been papered and done
up since Robert Bruce stayed with us.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Robert Bruce!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Aye—just from a Saturday till Monday, I’m thinking.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>There must be a legend attached to every stone
of Ballocheevin.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Aye, it’s interesting—but it requires papering.
I am so tired of Ballocheevin.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>But you love the rugged country, the vast overwhelming
hills, and the placid lochs?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Mother’s been telling you that.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Isn’t it true?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Eh, I am just weary of my native scenery.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>But what about the misty chasms of Ben-Muchty?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>That’s an awfully damp place. That’s where I
caught my bad cold.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>And the gray shore of Loch-na-Doich? Your
mother says you adore it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Eh, I am sick of Loch-na-Doich.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>And your feet don’t ache to press the heather?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>It’s when they’re <i>on</i> the heather my feet ache.
It’s poor walking, heather.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Then you don’t watch the sun rise from the jagged
summit of Ben-na-fechan?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Cunningly.</i>] Eh, but I do though, every day when
I’m at home.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>But why?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>To get away from mother.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Poor boy!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Reflectively.</i>] I’ve been thinking——</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Yes?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>That you’d better let go my arm now.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Sir Colin!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>I’ve no personal objection, you understand; but
mother’s always looking for me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>How thoughtless I am! [<i>He walks away.</i>] Sir
Colin!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Aye?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Your mother is driving you to contract this marriage
with Miss Twombley.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Well, mother’s just making the arrangements.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Your great heart hasn’t gone out to her! Unhappiness
must ensue! Your bright career will be
dimmed!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Will be <i>what?</i></p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Dimmed. What did you think I said? Oh, Sir
Colin, don’t carry this unsuitable bride to Ballocheevin!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Well, it’s a serious step; but I’ve been thinking it
would be another in the house.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>You don’t want another in the house. You need
a strong, self-reliant wife who will take you out of
the house.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Eh?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>A woman, loving but firm, tender but enterprising,
who will bear you from your dilapidated home
and plunge you into the vortex of some great city. [<i>Suddenly.</i>] Have you ever been to Paris?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>I know every inch of it!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Madam!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Oh, what have I said! Sir Colin, you have
guessed my secret!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Macphail</span> <i>produces his ball-programme from his
stocking and refers to it.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>I’m engaged to Miss Kilbouie for this waltz, if
you’ll excuse me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Holding out her hand to him.</i>] Colin.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>I’m thinking mother will be wondering——</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] Drat your moth—— [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail.</span>] Never mind dear Lady Macphail for a moment.
Colin, since you have discovered my love for you I
will make no further reservation——</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>But mother——</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Under her breath.</i>] Drat your—— [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail.</span>] Colin, I will be to you the wife you have
described.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>I’m extremely obliged to ye—but——</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Hush, bold boy! [<i>She gives him a card.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>You know my cruel brother takes me back to
town to-morrow. Here is my address so that you
may write to me constantly, devotedly.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Reading the card.</i>] “Mauricette & Cie., Court
Dressmakers——”</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Snatching the card from him.</i>] That’s a wrong
’un—I mean, that’s a mistake. [<i>Giving another.</i>] There. Hide it away, dear one—nearest your heart.</p>
<p>[<i>He slips it into his stocking.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>And now, as I start in the morning at nine-forty-five,
sharp, on the tick, we must say farewell.
Oh, this parting is too cruel. Colin!</p>
<p>[<i>She falls against him.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Here’s my mother! [<i>He throws her off.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>[<i>Under her breath.</i>] Drat your mother!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>enters.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Madam. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>.] Why do you leave the
ball-room, my lad?</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>I’ve been just watching the moonlight on Loch
Auchentoshan.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>I am proud to see this devotion to Loch Auchentoshan,
but to-night you have other duties almost
equally important. After this paltry waltz we lose
ourselves in the wild pleasures of our native dance.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>The Strathspey? [<i>He takes</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre’s</span>
<i>card from his stocking.</i>] Oh! [<i>Hides it and produces
his ball-programme from his other stocking.</i>] The Strathspey.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Come, lad. They have yet to see the Macphail
lead the Strathspey with his betrothed.</p>
<p>[<i>They go out together.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Yes, and they shall ultimately see the Macphail
writing love-letters to Fanny—love-letters with a
promise of marriage in ’em. I’ll consult a solicitor
directly I reach town and be ready to marry or to
sue him. Oh, Fanny, Fanny, ungrateful girl, what
a lot you have to be thankful for!</p>
<p>[<i>She runs out and</i> <span class="smcap">Angèle</span> <i>peeps in</i>.]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Milord! Miladi! [<i>She enters.</i>] I must find
miladi! Miladi!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>No news from Reeves & Shuckleback, the Stockbrokers.
The waiting for it will finish me!</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Oh, Miladi Twombley.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Turning to her sharply.</i>] Ah!</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Tell me, vere is milord?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>What! Has a messenger come from Strachlachan
with a telegram for Lord Drumdurris? Speak?</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>I do not know.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>But, oh, miladi, I ’ave been a vicked girl!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I dare say you have—that’s your business.</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Miladi, ze leetle Lord Aberbrothock is indispose.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>The baby?</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Yees. To please milord, and contrary to miladi’s
ordares, I put Lord Aberbrothock to bed wiz his
gun.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I know—I’m a mother—the child has swallowed
the paint!</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Ah, yees!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Send a groom to Strachlachan for Dr. M’Gubbie.</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Yees, miladi.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Angèle!</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Miladi?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Tell the man to inquire at Strachlachan for telegrams
for the Castle.</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Yees, miladi. [<span class="smcap">Angèle</span> <i>runs out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, for a telegram from Reeves & Shuckleback!
My diamonds, my double row of pearls for a telegram
from Reeves & Shuckleback!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Angèle</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris.</span>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Lady Twombley!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Has Keith had a telegram?</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>A telegram—no. My son is ill!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh, I know—he has nibbled his gun.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>His gun!</p>
<p class="spkr">Angèle.</p>
<p>Yees, miladi.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Ah! The Army! [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris.</span>] So you
have gained your own ends after all, Keith, and my
boy has fallen.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>goes out, followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Angèle.</span> <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span>
<i>sinks into a chair.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Keith.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Don’t speak to me, please, aunt.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I must. Reeves & Shuckleback are strangely
silent.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Let them remain so—I care not.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>You don’t care! Surely you are anxious to know
whether you have been instrumental in saving me
from—from growing my own vegetables?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Growing your own——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Surely you want to know whether you have made
me a wealthy woman or have ruined yourself in the
effort?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Ruined myself!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Keith, dear, I am afraid I haven’t done what is
strictly regular, but when you put me into communication
with your Stockbrokers I carried on my
delicate little financial operations with them in your
name.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Aunt Kate!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Keith, you’re annoyed!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>May I ask what delicate little financial operations?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I’ve speculated on the strength of my private<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</SPAN></span>
knowledge of the decision of the Government on
the Rajputana Canal Question—I mean <i>you</i> have
speculated.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Aunt Twombley, how dare you do such a thing?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>How dare I! Boy—for you are little more—boy,
you wouldn’t have a Cabinet Minister’s wife take
advantage of her confidential acquaintance with her
husband’s official affairs to advance her own interests!
Oh, Keith!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>But you’ve done it!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>No, I haven’t. Don’t be so dull, <i>you’ve</i> done it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>And if your delicate little financial operations——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>If they come off, you have made what you men call
a pile, Keith. All through your blundering aunty
you will have made a pile.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Which I hand over to you, Aunt Kate?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I shall borrow it, Keith, dear—may I?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>And if—pardon the question—if your delicate little
financial operations——</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Don’t come off?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Certainly; if they don’t come off, what then?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Then through your reckless speculation you will
have impoverished your estate for the rest of your
life!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Aunt!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Keith!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Tell me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Fergus has taken a turn for the better.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Egidia, how can I look you in the face?</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Cannot we read a lesson from this dreadful occurrence?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>To reconcile our views?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>Finally. You see now how unfitted our son is to
a soldier’s life.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Yes, I have been wrong. Happily it is not too
late to remould his character. We must return to
the ball-room.</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>First come with me and peep into the nursery.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>By all means—the nursery.</p>
<p class="spkr">Together.</p>
<p>The nursery.</p>
<p>[<i>They go out as the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Katherine!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Dora?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I am beside myself! Have you heard the news?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>News? Telegrams for Keith?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>I know nothing about telegrams. I’ve just overheard
Julian talking solemnly to Brooke. Do you
know what your husband intends to do?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Grow his own vegetables.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Bother his vegetables! He resigns his place in
the Ministry.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>The same thing. [<i>To herself.</i>] Ah, why can’t he
wait!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke.</span>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Katherine, I have been telling Brooke of the
change in his prospects.</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>I say, Mater, such a blow—what!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Pa, why can’t you wait?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Wait—for what, Katherine?</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Wait till the boy can patch up his future with a
wealthy wife, of course.</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Really, Dora, I don’t think it would be absolutely
fair——</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Fair! People’s actions are like their heads of
hair—they can be dyed flaxen. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Brooke.</span>] Boy,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</SPAN></span>
why do you let the grass grow under your pumps
in this way?</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>I haven’t let the grass grow, Aunt Dora. I—ah—I
have the happiness to be engaged—what!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Engaged!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Bless my soul!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>In mercy’s name, to whom?</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>To Effie.</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian Twombley.</span></p>
<p>Euphemia!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Euphemia! Why, how dare you conspire to entrap
a child of mine into a moneyless marriage?</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>My dear Dora, you yourself suggested——</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>If I may be guilty of such an expression—fall-lall!</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>But, aunt——</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Hold your tongue, sir! Ah, I believe you all have
abominable motives!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] The telegram! The telegram!
Why is there no telegram?</p>
<p>[<i>The music of the Strathspey is heard.</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>enters
with</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia.</span>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Euphemia!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span> <i>joins the others.</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>goes to</i>
<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>in agitation.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Mamma! The Strathspey!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>What of it?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>I’m engaged to dance it with Sir Colin. Oh,
mamma, I don’t love him!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Child, you loved him the other night while your
head was being washed.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>I didn’t see clearly then—the egg-julep was
in my eyes. But now Lady Macphail is running
after me, from one room to another, because she
declares I must fulfil the destiny of a Macphail’s
betrothed and lead the Strathspey by his side. But
I won’t dance a deception before a room full of
people!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Imogen, there is nothing for you but this marriage
or contemptible, cleanly poverty.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Poverty!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Child, you are young to be told these things—but
what do you think is likely to happen to pa and me?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Mamma, keep nothing from me.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>In all probability we shall grow our own vegetables.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Oh! What for?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p><i>For</i> dinner. And, oh, Imogen, have pity on your
mother! I can face contemptible, cleanly poverty
with pa alone, but if I see my innocent chicks sharing
our miseries every cabbage in our garden will
grow up with a broken heart!</p>
<p>[<i>She embraces</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen.</span> <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>enters with</i>
<span class="smcap">Macphail.</span>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Miss Twombley, Lord Drumdurris’s guests are
politely waiting till you are pleased to lead the
Strathspey with the Macphail.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Miss Twombley.</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Quietly to</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley.</span>] Mamma!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To herself.</i>] No telegram from town. [<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen.</span>] Imogen, you had better not lose your dance.</p>
<p>[<i>With a slight courtesy to</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>, <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>gives
him her arm as</i> <span class="smcap">Valentine</span> <i>enters, trimmed,
shaven, and in immaculate evening dress.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Brooke Twombley.</p>
<p>Why, Val!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Euphemia Vibart.</p>
<p>Mr. White!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Imogen!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>[<i>Leaving</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail.</span>] Valentine!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Valentine White!</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Imogen, am I too late?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Too late?</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>For the honor of dancing with you to-night?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>You—you are in time, Valentine.</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>For which dance?</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>This dance.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Mother!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>The child’s mad!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Stop the Strathspey! Stop the Strathspey!</p>
<p>[<i>She hurries out, followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail.</span>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Mr. White, really you shouldn’t, you know.</p>
<p>[<i>The music ceases.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Valentine White.</p>
<p>Sir Julian, Lady Twombley, with your permission
I shall go no further to avoid the shams of life. I
have found one cool resting-place in this world
where there is reality and sincerity. [<i>With</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen’s</span>
<i>hands in his.</i>] And I have found it in an advanced
state of civilization.</p>
<p>[<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>pulls</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span> <i>away.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>I positively must beg——</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen.</span>] Child, at this moment I feel grateful
that I am your aunt, with all an aunt’s privileges.
[<i>She shakes her.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Mamma!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>Seizing</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen.</span>] My chick, your mother has
privileges also. Bless you and Valentine. [<i>Kissing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</SPAN></span>
her.</i>] There! Dora, if you shake my girl again I—I’ll
slap you!</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>Ah! Julian!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span> <i>appears with a telegram.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>Aunt!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>What’s that?</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>From Reeves & Shuckleback!</p>
<p>[<i>She snatches the telegram from him.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Everybody.</p>
<p>What’s the matter?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Julian, look at your wife! Brooke, Imogen, come
to your mother! No more worries by day and bad
dreams at night! No poverty—no cottage—no—no
vegetables! I—I am a rich woman!</p>
<p>[<i>She falls back fainting into</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian’s</span> <i>arms as they
all surround her. At the same moment</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span>
<i>rushes in with</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre.</span> <i>He has a telegram
in his hand; his aspect is wild, his face
white.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady Twombley! Where is she? Lady Twombley!</p>
<p>[<i>As</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>is assisted to a chair</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span>
<i>falls into another.</i>]<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Mamma!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Joseph!</p>
<p class="spkr">Imogen.</p>
<p>Ah!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Ah!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Be quiet! Lady Twombley is ill!</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Ill! Look at Joseph! My only brother!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Keith, explain this telegram or my brain will give
way.</p>
<p class="spkr">Dowager.</p>
<p>No, no—tell me. My brain is stronger than Sir
Julian’s.</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span> <i>and the</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>apart.</i>] Mother—Sir
Julian——</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I want a word or two with my friend, Lady T.</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>arranges his chair so that he faces</i>
<span class="smcap">Lady Twombley.</span> <i>She and</i> <span class="smcap">Lebanon</span> <i>stare at each other.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ah!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Lady T.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Hullo?</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>I’ve ’ad a wire.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>So have I.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>From Moss & Emanuel, my brokers.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Mine is from Reeves & Shuckleback.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Oh, I see—<i>your</i> brokers. You’ve done me, Lady
T.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Don’t mention it.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>You’re a knowing one.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I’m sure I’m very gratified to hear you say so.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>The Bills! Give me the Bills you swindled me
out of!</p>
<p>[<i>He advances violently, but</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>holds
him back.</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>hands the Bills
to</i> <span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>.]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Jo!<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Mr. Lebanon, the Bills, sir. [<i>Giving them.</i>]</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lebanon</span> <i>snaps his fingers demonstratively in</i>
<span class="smcap">Sir Julian’s</span> <i>face.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Mr. Joseph Lebanon.</p>
<p>Drum., thank you for your <i>recherché</i> hospitality.
Carriage to the station in the morning, if you
please. [<i>Kissing his hands.</i>] Ladies—— [<i>Breaking
down.</i>] Oh, Fanny, take me to bed!</p>
<p>[<i>He goes out.</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span> <i>is about to follow,
when</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>enters with</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail.</span>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Madam! My boy—my poor lad—has told me of
your behaviour.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>My behaviour! He loves me!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Macphail.</p>
<p>Colin!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>I thought I’d just better mention the affair to
mother.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Of course; conceal nothing from your parent.</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>And mother agrees with me——</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Yes?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</SPAN></span></p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>That it would be just a risky matter to correspond
with a widow lady.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>[<i>Producing</i> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Gaylustre</span>’s <i>card from his stocking.</i>] So I’m thinking I sha’n’t require this address.</p>
<p class="spkr">Mrs. Gaylustre.</p>
<p>Ah! [<i>She slaps his face violently and runs out.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Everybody.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Macphail.</p>
<p>Mother!</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>embraces him. The music of the
Strathspey is heard again.</i>]</p>
<p>[<span class="smcap">Egidia</span> <i>enters.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Egidia.</p>
<p>The Strathspey. Come into the ball-room. What
has happened?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>I can’t enter the ball-room again to-night!</p>
<p class="spkr">Earl of Drumdurris.</p>
<p>But you must dance the Strathspey.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Must I? Dance then! [<i>They take their places for
the dance.</i>] Pa! Valentine, Imogen! Brooke, Effie!
Keith, Egidia! Lady Macphail, Sir Colin! Dance!
Dance with foolish, thoughtless, weak-headed Kitty<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</SPAN></span>
Twombley for the last time, for to-morrow she becomes
a sober, wise, happy, and contented woman!
Dance!</p>
<p>[<i>They dance the Strathspey and Reel</i>—<span class="smcap">Sir Julian</span>
<i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span>, <span class="smcap">Drumdurris</span> <i>with</i>
<span class="smcap">Egidia</span>, <span class="smcap">Brooke</span> <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Euphemia</span>, <span class="smcap">Valentine</span>
<i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Imogen</span>, <span class="smcap">Lady Macphail</span> <i>with</i> <span class="smcap">Macphail</span>.
<i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Dowager</span> <i>sits apart gloomily.</i>]</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Lady Twombley</span> <i>while dancing.</i>] You’ve been
indiscreet again, Kitty.</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Finally, Julian, finally!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>No more extravagance?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Never! Never!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>And you resign yourself to a peaceful, rural life?</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Oh!</p>
<p class="spkr">Sir Julian Twombley.</p>
<p>Promise me—promise me!</p>
<p class="spkr">Lady Twombley.</p>
<p>Ha, ha! Dance, pa, dance!</p>
<p class="center"><big>THE END.</big></p>
<hr style="width:65%" />
<h2><SPAN name="ADVERTISEMENTS" id="ADVERTISEMENTS"></SPAN><span class="blackletter">A Selection</span><br/> <br/><small>FROM</small><br/> <br/><i>MR. WM. HEINEMANN’S LIST</i></h2>
<p class="center">January 1892.</p>
<hr style="width:35%" />
<h3 class="blackletter center">The Crown Copyright Series.</h3>
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<p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Contents</span>: Camden’s Britannia. A Mirror for Magistrates.
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<div class="tnote">
<h2><SPAN name="TNOTE" id="TNOTE"></SPAN>Transcriber’s Note.</h2>
<p>The use of both “Lady T.” and “Lady T”; “good-by” and “good-bye” is as
per the original.</p>
<p class="hang">Typographic errors have been corrected as follows:<br/>
On page 135: “[<i>Outside.</i>] Hi, hi! Come here! hi!”—had “Ouiside”.<br/>
Punctuation errors and mismatched brackets have been corrected without note.</p>
</div>
<SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />