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diff --git a/12687-0.txt b/12687-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2123339 --- /dev/null +++ b/12687-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3222 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12687 *** + +_The Title_ + + +A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS + + +BY +ARNOLD BENNETT + + +LONDON +CHATTO & WINDUS +MCMXVIII + + + + +CHARACTERS + +MR. CULVER +MRS. CULVER +HILDEGARDE CULVER } their children +JOHN CULVER } +TRANTO +MISS STARKEY +SAMPSON STRAIGHT +PARLOURMAID + + + + +ACT I + +An evening between Christmas and New Year, before dinner. + + +ACT II + +The next evening, after dinner. + + +ACT III + +The next day, before lunch. + + +The scene throughout is a sitting-room in the well-furnished West End +abode of the Culvers. There is a door, back. There is also another door +(L) leading to Mrs. Culver's boudoir and elsewhere. + + + + +ACT I + + + + +ACT I + + +Hildegarde _is sitting at a desk, writing_. John, _in a lounging +attitude, is reading a newspaper_. + +_Enter_ Tranto, _back_. + +TRANTO. Good evening. + +HILDEGARDE (_turning slightly in her seat and giving him her left hand, +the right still holding a pen_). Good evening. Excuse me one moment. + +TRANTO. All right about my dining here to-night? (Hildegarde _nods_.) +Larder equal to the strain? + +HILDEGARDE. Macaroni. + +TRANTO. Splendid. + +HILDEGARDE. Beefsteak. + +TRANTO. Great heavens! (_imitates sketchily the motions of cutting up a +piece of steak. Shaking hands with_ John, _who has risen_). Well, John. +How are things? Don't let me disturb you. Have a cigarette. + +JOHN (_flattered_). Thanks. (_As they light cigarettes_.) You're the +first person here that's treated me like a human being. + +TRANTO. Oh! + +JOHN. Yes. They all treat me as if I was a schoolboy home for the hols. + +TRANTO. But you are, aren't you? + +JOHN. In a way, of course. But--well, don't you see what I mean? + +TRANTO (_sympathetically_). You mean that a schoolboy home for the hols +isn't necessarily something escaped out of the Zoo. + +JOHN (_warming_). That's it. + +TRANTO. In fact, what you mean is you're really an individual very like +the rest of us, subject, if I may say so, to the common desires, +weaknesses and prejudices of humanity--and not a damned freak. + +JOHN (_brightly_). That's rather good, that is. If it's a question of +the Zoo, what I say is--what price home? Now, homes _are_ extraordinary +if you like--I don't know whether you've ever noticed it. School--you +can understand school. But home--! Strange things happen here while I'm +away. + +TRANTO. Yes? + +JOHN. It was while I was away they appointed Dad a controller. When I +heard--I laughed. Dad a controller! Why, he can't even control mother. + +HILDEGARDE (_without looking round_). Oh yes he can. + +JOHN (_pretending to start back_). Stay me with flagons! (_Resuming to_ +Tranto.) And _you're_ something new here since the summer holidays. + +TRANTO. I never looked at myself in that light. But I suppose I _am_ +rather new here. + +JOHN. Not quite new. But you've made a lot of progress during the last +term. + +TRANTO. That's comforting. + +JOHN. You understand what I mean. You were rather stiff and prim in +August--now you aren't a bit. + +TRANTO. Just so. Well, I won't ask you what you think of _me_, John--you +might tell me--but what do you think of my newspaper? + +JOHN. _The Echo_? I don't know what to think. You see, we don't read +newspapers much at school. Some of the masters do. And a few chaps in +the Fifth--swank, of course. But speaking generally we don't. Prefects +don't. No time. + +TRANTO. How strange! Aren't you interested in the war? + +JOHN. Interested in the war! Would you mind if I spoke plainly? + +TRANTO. I should love it. + +JOHN. Each time I come home I wonder more and more whether you people in +London have got the slightest notion what war really is. Fact! At +school, it's just because we _are_ interested in the war that we've no +time for newspapers. + +TRANTO. How's that? + +JOHN. How's that? Well, munition workshops--with government inspectors +tumbling all over us about once a week. O.T.C. work. Field days. +Cramming fellows for Sandhurst. Not to mention female masters. +'Mistresses,' I ought to say, perhaps. All these things take time. + +TRANTO. I never thought of that. + +JOHN. No. People don't. However, I've decided to read newspapers in +future--it'll be part of my scheme. That's why I was reading _The +Echo_. Now, I should like to ask you something about this paper of +yours. + +TRANTO. Yes. + +JOHN. Why do you let Hilda write those articles for you about food +economy stunts in the household? + +TRANTO. Well--(_hesitating_) + +JOHN. Now, I look at things practically. When Hilda'd spent all her +dress allowance and got into debt besides, about a year and a half ago, +she suddenly remembered she wasn't doing much to help the war, and so +she went into the Food Ministry as a typist at thirty-five shillings a +week. Next she learnt typing. Then she became an authority on +everything. And now she's concocting these food articles for you. +Believe me, the girl knows nothing whatever about cookery. She couldn't +fry a sausage for nuts. Once the mater insisted on her doing the +housekeeping--in the holidays, too! Stay me with flagons! + +HILDEGARDE (_without looking round_). Stay you with chocolates, you +mean, Johnnie, dear. + +JOHN. There you are! Her thoughts fly instantly to chocolates--and in +the fourth year of the greatest war that the world-- + +HILDEGARDE. Etcetera, etcetera. + +TRANTO. Then do I gather that you don't entirely approve of your +sister's articles? + +JOHN. Tripe, I think. My fag could write better. I'll tell you what I do +approve of. I approve of that article to-day by that chap Sampson +Straight about titles and the shameful traffic in honours, and the rot +of the hereditary principle, and all that sort of thing. + +TRANTO. I'm glad. Delivers the goods, doesn't he, Mr. Sampson Straight? + +JOHN. Well, _I_ think so. Who is he? + +TRANTO. One of my discoveries, John. He sent me in an article about--let +me see, when was it?--about eight months ago. I at once perceived that +in Mr. Sampson Straight I had got on to a bit of all right. And I was +not mistaken. He has given London beans pretty regularly once a week +ever since. + +JOHN. He must have given the War Cabinet neuralgia this afternoon, +anyhow. I should like to meet him. + +TRANTO. I'm afraid that's impossible. + +JOHN. Is it? Why? + +TRANTO. Well, I haven't met him myself yet. He lives at a quiet country +place in Cornwall. Hermit, I believe. Hates any kind of publicity. +Absolutely refuses to be photographed. + +JOHN. Photographed! I should think not! But couldn't you get him to come +and lecture at school? We have frightful swells, you know. + +TRANTO. I expect you do. But he wouldn't come. + +JOHN. I wish he would. We had a debate the other Saturday night on, +Should the hereditary principle be abolished? + +TRANTO. And did you abolish it? + +JOHN. Did we abolish it? I should say we did. Eighty-five to twenty-one. +Some debate, believe _me_! + +HILDEGARDE (_looking round_). Yes, but didn't you tell us once that in +your Debating Society the speakers always tossed for sides beforehand? + +JOHN (_shrugging his shoulders. More confidentially to_ Tranto). As I +was saying, I'm going to read the papers in future, as part of my +scheme. And d'you know what the scheme is? (_Impressively_.) I've +decided to take up a political career. + +TRANTO. Good! + +JOHN. Yes, it was during that hereditary principle debate that I +decided. It came over me all of a sudden while I was on the last lap of +my speech and the fellows were cheering. And so I want to understand +first of all the newspaper situation in London. There are one or two +things about it I _don't_ understand. + +TRANTO. Not more? I can explain the newspaper situation to you in ten +words. You know I've got a lot of uncles. I daresay I've got more uncles +than anybody else in 'Who's Who.' Well, I own _The Echo_,--inherited it +from my father. My uncles own all the rest of the press--(_airily_) with +a few trifling exceptions. That's the London newspaper situation. Quite +simple, isn't it? + +JOHN. But of course _The Echo_ is up against all your uncles' papers--at +least it seems so. + +TRANTO. Absolutely up against them. Tooth and nail. Daggers drawn. No +quarter. Death or victory. + +JOHN. But do you and your uncles speak to each other? + +TRANTO. Best of friends. + +JOHN. But aren't two of your uncles lords? + +TRANTO. Yes. Uncle Joe was made an earl not long since--you may have +heard of the fuss about it. Uncle Sam's only a miserable baron yet. And +Uncle Cuthbert is that paltry insect--a baronet. + +JOHN. What did they get their titles for? + +TRANTO. Ask me another. + +JOHN. Of course I don't want to be personal, but _how_ did they get +them? Did they--er--buy them? + +TRANTO. Don't know. + +JOHN. Haven't you ever asked them? + +TRANTO. Well, John, you've got relatives yourself, and you probably know +there are some things that even the most affectionate relatives _don't_ +ask each other. + +HILDEGARDE (_rising from the desk and looking at John's feet_). Yes, +indeed! This very morning I unwisely asked Johnnie whether his socks +ever talked. Altercation followed. 'Some debate, believe _me_!' + +JOHN (_rising; with scornful tranquillity_). I'd better get ready for +dinner. Besides, you two would doubtless like to be alone together for a +few precious moments. + +HILDEGARDE (_sharply and self-consciously_). What do you mean? + +JOHN (_lightly_). Nothing. I thought editor and contributor-- + +HILDEGARDE. Oh! I see. + +JOHN (_stopping at door, and turning round_). Do you mean to say your +uncles won't be frightfully angry at Mr. Sampson Straight's articles? +Why, dash it, when he's talking about traffic in honours, if he doesn't +mean them who does he mean? + +TRANTO. My dear friend, stuff like that's meat and drink to my uncles. +They put it down like chocolates. + +JOHN. Well my deliberate opinion is--it's a jolly strange world. (_Exit +quickly, back)_. + +TRANTO (_looking at_ Hildegarde). So it is. Philosopher, John! Questions +rather pointed perhaps; but result in the discovery of new truths. By +the way, have I come too early? + +HILDEGARDE (_archly)_. How could you? But father's controlling the +country half an hour more than usual this evening, and I expect mamma +was so angry about it she forgot to telephone you that dinner's moved +accordingly. (_With piquancy and humour_.) I was rather surprised to +hear when I got home from my Ministry that you'd sent word you'd like to +dine to-night. + +TRANTO. Were you? Why? + +HILDEGARDE. Because last week when mamma _asked_ you for to-night, you +said you had another engagement. + +TRANTO. Oh! I'd forgotten I'd told her that. Still, I really had +another engagement. + +HILDEGARDE. The Countess of Blackfriars--you said. + +TRANTO. Yes. Auntie Joe's. I've just sent her a telephone message to say +I'm ill and confined to the house. + +HILDEGARDE. Which house? + +TRANTO. I didn't specify any particular house. + +HILDEGARDE. And are you ill? + +TRANTO. I am not.... To get back to the realm of fact, when I read +Sampson Straight's article about the degradation of honours this +afternoon-- + +HILDEGARDE. Didn't you read it before you published it? + +TRANTO. No. I had to rush off and confront the Medical Board at 9 a.m. I +felt certain the article would be all right. + +HILDEGARDE. And it wasn't all right. + +TRANTO (_positively_). Perfectly all right. + +HILDEGARDE. You don't seem quite sure. Are we still in the realm of +fact, or are we slipping over the frontier? + +TRANTO. The article was perfectly all right. It rattled off from +beginning to end like a machine-gun, and must have caused enormous +casualties. Only I thought Auntie Joe might be one of the casualties. I +thought it might put her out of action as a hostess for a week or so. +You see, for me to publish such an onslaught on new titles in the +afternoon, and then attempt to dine with the latest countess the same +night--and she my own aunt--well, it might be regarded as a bit--thick. +So I'm confined to the house--this house as it happens. + +HILDEGARDE. But you told John your people would take the article like +meat and drink. + +TRANTO. What if I did? John can't expect to discover the whole truth +about everything at one go. He's found out it's a jolly strange world. +That ought to satisfy him for to-day. Besides, he only asked me about my +uncles. He said nothing about my uncles' wives. You know what women +are--I mean wives. + +HILDEGARDE. Oh, I do! Mother is a marvellous specimen. + +TRANTO. I haven't told you the worst. + +HILDEGARDE. I hope no man ever will. + +TRANTO. The worst is this. Auntie Joe actually thinks _I_'m Sampson +Straight. + +HILDEGARDE. She doesn't! + +TRANTO. She does. She has an infinite capacity for belief. The +psychology of the thing is as follows. My governor died a comparatively +poor man. A couple of hundred thousand pounds, more or less. Whereas +Uncle Joe is worth five millions--and Uncle Joe was going to adopt me, +when Auntie Joe butted in and married him. She used to arrange the +flowers for his first wife. Then she arranged _his_ flowers. Then she +became a flower herself and he had to gather her. Then she had twins, +and my chances of inheriting that five millions (_he imitates the noise +of a slight explosion_) short-circuited! Well, I didn't care a volt--not +a volt! I've got lots of uncles left who are quite capable of adopting +me. But I didn't really want to be adopted at all. To adopt me was only +part of Uncle Joe's political game. It was my _Echo_ that he was after +adopting. But I'd sooner run my _Echo_ on my own than inherit Uncle +Joe's controlling share in twenty-five daily papers, seventy-one weekly +papers, six monthly magazines, and three independent advertising +agencies. I know I'm a poor man, but I'm quite ready to go on facing the +world bravely with my modest capital of a couple of hundred thousand +pounds. Only Auntie Joe can't understand that. She's absolutely +convinced that I have a terrific grudge against her and her twins, and +that in order to gratify that grudge I myself personally write articles +against all her most sacred ideals under the pseudonym of Sampson +Straight. I've pointed out to her that I'm a newspaper proprietor, and +no newspaper proprietor ever _could_ write. No use! She won't listen. + +HILDEGARDE. Then she thinks you're a liar. + +TRANTO. Oh, not at all. Only a journalist. But you perceive the widening +rift in the family lute. (_A silence_.) Pardon this glimpse into the +secret history of the week. + +HILDEGARDE (_formidably_). Mr. Tranto, you and I are sitting on the edge +of a volcano. + +TRANTO. We are. I like it. Thrilling, and yet so warm and cosy. + +HILDEGARDE. I used to like it once. But I don't think I like it any +more. + +TRANTO. Now please don't let Auntie Joe worry you. She's my cross, not +yours. + +HILDEGARDE. Yes. But considered as a cross, your Auntie Joe is nothing +to my brother John, who quite justly calls his sister's cookery stuff +'tripe.' It was a most ingenious camouflage of yours to have me +pretending to be the author of that food economy 'tripe,' so as to cover +my writing quite different articles for _The Echo_ and your coming here +to see me so often. Most ingenious. Worthy of a newspaper proprietor. +But why should I be saddled with 'tripe' that isn't mine? + +TRANTO. Why, indeed! Then you think we ought to encourage the volcano +with a lighted match--and run? + +HILDEGARDE. I'm ready if you are. + +TRANTO. Oh! I'm ready. Secrecy was a great stunt at first. Letting out +the secret will be an even greater stunt now. It'll make the finest +newspaper story since the fearful fall of the last Cabinet. Sampson +Straight--equals Miss Hildegarde Culver, the twenty-one year old +daughter of the Controller of Accounts! Typist in the Food Department, +by day! Journalistic genius by night! The terror of Ministers! Read by +all London! Raised the circulation of _The Echo_ two hundred per cent! +Phenomenon unique in the annals of Fleet Street! (_In a different tone, +noticing_ Hildegarde's _face_). Crude headlines, I admit, but that's +what Uncle Joe has brought us to. We have to compete with Uncle Joe.... + +HILDEGARDE. Of course I shall have to leave home. + +TRANTO. Leave home! + +HILDEGARDE. Yes, and live by myself in rooms. + +TRANTO. But why? + +HILDEGARDE. I couldn't possibly stay here. Think how it would compromise +father with the War Cabinet if I did. It might ruin him. And as accounts +are everything in modern warfare, it might lose the war. But that's +nothing--it's mamma I'm thinking of. Do you forget that Sampson +Straight, being a young woman of advanced ideas, has written about +everything, _everything_--yes, and several other subjects besides? For +instance, here's the article I was revising when you came in. (_Shows +the title-page to_ Tranto.) + +TRANTO. Splendid! You're the most courageous creature I ever met. + +HILDEGARDE. Possibly. But not courageous enough to offer to kiss mamma +when I went to bed on the night that _that (indicating the article_) had +appeared in print under my own name. You don't know mamma. + +TRANTO. But dash it! You could eat your mother! + +HILDEGARDE. Pardon me. The contrary is the fact. Mamma could eat me. + +TRANTO. But you're the illustrious Sampson Straight. There's more +intelligence in your little finger than there is in your mother's whole +body. See how you write. + +HILDEGARDE. Write! I only began to write as a relief from mamma. I +escaped secretly into articles like escaping into an underground +passage. But as for facing mamma in the open!... Even father scarcely +ever does that; and when he does, we hold our breath, and the cook turns +teetotal. It wouldn't be the slightest use me trying to explain the +situation logically to mamma. She wouldn't understand. She's far too +clever to understand anything she doesn't like. Perhaps that's the +secret of her power. No, if the truth about Sampson Straight is to come +out I must leave home--quietly but firmly leave home. And why not? I can +keep myself in splendour on Sampson's earnings. And the break is bound +to come sooner or later. I admit I didn't begin very seriously, but +reading my own articles has gradually made me serious. I feel I have a +cause. A cause may be inconvenient, but it's magnificent. It's like +champagne or high heels, and one must be prepared to suffer for it. + +TRANTO. Cause be hanged! Suffer be hanged! High heels be hanged! +Champagne--(_stops_). Miss Culver, if a disclosure means your leaving +home I won't agree to any disclosure whatever. I will--not--agree. +We'll sit tight on the volcano. + +HILDEGARDE. But why won't you agree? + +TRANTO (_excited_). Why won't I agree! Why won't I agree! Because I +don't want you to leave home. I know you're a born genius--a marvel, a +miracle, a prodigy, an incredible orchid, the most brilliant journalist +in London. I'm fully aware of all that. But I do not and will not see +you as a literary bachelor living with a cause and holding receptions of +serious people in chambers furnished by Roger Fry. I like to think of +you at home, here, in this charming atmosphere, amid the delightful +vicissitudes of family existence, and--well, I like to think of you as a +woman. + +HILDEGARDE (_calmly and teasingly_). Mr. Tranto, we are forgetting one +thing. + +TRANTO. What's that? + +HILDEGARDE. You're an editor, and I'm a contributor whom you've never +met. + +_Enter_ Mrs. Culver (_L_). + +MRS. CULVER. Mr. Tranto, how are you? (_Shaking hands_.) I'm delighted +to see you. So sorry I didn't warn you we dine half an hour +later--thanks to the scandalous way the Government slave-drives my poor +husband. Please do excuse me. (_She sits_). + +TRANTO. On the contrary, it's I who should ask to be excused--proposing +myself like this at the last moment. + +MRS. CULVER. It was very nice of you to think of us. Come and sit down +here. (_Indicating a place by her side on the sofa_.) Now in my poor +addled brain I had an idea you were engaged for to-night at your aunt's, +Lady Blackfriars'. + +TRANTO (_sitting_). Mrs. Culver, you forget nothing. I _was_ engaged for +Auntie Joe's, but she's ill and she's put me off. + +MRS. CULVER. Dear me! How very sudden! + +TRANTO. Sudden? + +MRS. CULVER. I met Lady Blackfriars at tea late this afternoon and it +struck me how well she was looking. + +TRANTO. Yes, she always looks particularly well just before she's going +to be ill. She's very brave, very brave. + +MRS. CULVER. D'you mean in having twins? It was more than brave of her; +it was beautiful--both boys, too. + +HILDEGARDE (_innocently_). Budgeting for a long war. + +MRS. CULVER (_affectionately_). My dear girl! Come here, darling, you +haven't changed. Excuse me, Mr. Tranto. + +HILDEGARDE (_approaching_). I've been so busy. And I thought nobody was +coming. + +MRS. CULVER. Is your father nobody? (_stroking and patting_ Hildegarde's +_dress into order_). What have you been so busy on? + +HILDEGARDE. Article for _The Echo_. (Tranto, _who has been holding the +MS., indicates it_.) + +MRS. CULVER. I do wish you would let me see those cookery articles of +yours before they're printed. + +TRANTO (_putting MS. in his pocket_). I'm afraid that's quite against +the rules. You see, in Fleet Street-- + +MRS. CULVER (_very pleasantly_). As you please. I don't pretend to be +intellectual. But I confess I'm just a wee bit disappointed in +Hildegarde's cookery articles. I'm a great believer in good cookery. I +put it next to the Christian religion--and far in front of mere +cleanliness. I've just been trying to read Professor Metchnikoff's +wonderful book on 'The Nature of Man.' It only confirms me in my +lifelong belief that until the nature of man is completely altered good +cooking is the chief thing that women ought to understand. Now I taught +Hildegarde some cookery myself. She was not what I should call a +brilliant pupil, but she did grasp the great eternal principles. And yet +I find her writing (_with charm and benevolence_) stuff like her last +article--'The Everlasting Boiled Potato,' I think she called it. +Hildegarde, it was really very naughty of you to say what you said in +that article. (_Drawing down_ Hildegarde's _head and kissing her_.) + +TRANTO. Now why, Mrs. Culver? I thought it was so clever. + +MRS. CULVER. It may be clever to advocate fried potatoes and chip +potatoes and sauté potatoes as a change from the everlasting boiled. I +daresay it's what you call journalism. But how can you fry potatoes +without fat? + +TRANTO. Ah! How? + +MRS. CULVER. And where are you to obtain fat? _I_ can't obtain fat. I +stand in queues for hours because my servants won't--it's the latest +form of democracy--but _I_ can't obtain fat. I think the nearest fat is +at Stratford-on-Avon. + +TRANTO. Stand in queues! Mrs. Culver, you make me feel very guilty, +plunging in at a moment's notice and demanding a whole dinner in a +fatless world. I shall eat nothing but dry bread. + +MRS. CULVER. We never serve bread at lunch or dinner unless it's +specially asked for. But if soup, macaroni, eggs, and jelly will keep +you alive till breakfast-- + +HILDEGARDE. But there's beefsteak, mamma--I've told Mr. Tranto. + +MRS. CULVER. Only a little, and that's for your father. Beefsteak's the +one thing that keeps off his neuralgia, Mr. Tranto. (_With apologetic +persuasiveness_.) I'm sure you'll understand. + +TRANTO. Dear lady, I've never had neuralgia in my life. Macaroni, eggs, +and jelly are my dream. I've always wanted to feel like an invalid. + +MRS. CULVER. And how did you get on with your Medical Board this +morning? + +TRANTO. How marvellous of you to remember that I had a Medical Board +this morning! I believe I've found out your secret, Mrs. Culver--you're +undergoing a course of Pelman with those sixty generals and forty +admirals. Well, the Medical Board have given me a new complaint. You'll +be sorry to hear that I'm deformed. + +MRS. CULVER. Not deformed! + +TRANTO. Yes. It appears I'm flat-footed. (_Extending his leg_.) Have I +ever told you that I had a dashing military career extending over four +months, three of which I spent in hospital for a disease I hadn't got? +Then I was discharged as unfit. After a year they raked me in again. +Since then I've been boarded five times, and on the unimpeachable +authority of various R.A.M.C. Colonels I've been afflicted with valvular +disease of the heart, incipient tuberculosis, rickets, varicose veins, +diabetes--practically everything, except spotted fever and leprosy. And +now flat feet are added to all the rest. Even the Russian collapse and +the transfer of the entire German army to the Western Front hasn't +raised me higher than C 3. + +MRS. CULVER. How annoying for you! You might have risen to be a captain +by this time. + +HILDEGARDE (_reflectively_). No doubt, in a home unit. But if he'd gone +to the Front he would still have been a second lieutenant. + +MRS. CULVER. My _dear_! + +TRANTO. Whereas in fact I'm still one of those able-bodied young +shirkers in mufti that patriotic old gentlemen in clubs are always +writing to my uncles' papers about. + +MRS. CULVER. Please! please! (_A slight pause; pulling herself +together; cheerfully_.) Let me see, you were going in for Siege +Artillery, weren't you? + +TRANTO. Me! Siege Artillery. My original ambition was trench +mortars--not so noisy. + +MRS. CULVER (_simply_). Oh! Then it must have been somebody else who was +talking to me about Siege Artillery. I understand it's very +scientific--all angles and degrees and wind-pressures and things. John +will soon be eighteen, and his father and I want him to be really useful +in the Army. We don't want him to be thrown away. He has brains, and so +we are thinking of Siege Artillery for him. + +(_During this speech_ John _has entered, in evening dress_.) + +JOHN. Are you on Siege again, mater? The mater's keen on Siege because +she's heard somewhere it's the safest thing there is. + +MRS. CULVER. And if it does happen to be the safest--what then? + +TRANTO. I suppose you're all for the Flying Corps, John? + +JOHN (_with condescension_). Not specially. Since one of the old boys +came and did looping the loop stunts over the school the whole Fifth +has gone mad on the R.F.C. Most fellows are just like sheep. _Somebody_ +in the Sixth has to be original. I want to fight as much as any chap +with wings across his chest, but I've got my private career to think of +too. If you ask me, the mater's had a brain-wave for once. + +_Enter_ Mr. Culver, _back. He stands a moment at the door, surveying the +scene_. Mrs. Culver _springs up, and_ Tranto _also rises, moving towards +the door_. + +MRS. CULVER. Arthur, have you come? + +CULVER (_advancing a little_). Apparently. Hello, Tranto, glad to see +you. I wanted to. (_Shakes hands with_ Tranto.) + +MRS. CULVER. What's the matter, Arthur? + +CULVER. Everything. + +MRS. CULVER (_alarmed, but carefully coaxing_). Why are you wearing your +velvet coat? (_To_ Tranto.) He always puts on his velvet coat instead of +dressing when something's gone wrong. (_To_ Mr. Culver.) Have you got +neuralgia again? + +CULVER. I don't think so. + +MRS. CULVER. But surely you must know! You look terribly pale. + +CULVER. The effect of the velvet coat, my dear--nicely calculated in +advance. + +MRS. CULVER (_darting at him, holding him by the shoulders, and then +kissing him violently. With an intonation of affectionate protest_). +Darling! + +JOHN. Oh! I say, mater, look here! + +MRS. CULVER (_to_ Culver, _still holding him_). I'm very annoyed with +you. It's perfectly absurd the way you work. (_To_ Tranto.) Do you know +he was at the office all day Christmas Day and all day Boxing Day? (_To_ +Culver.) You really must take a holiday. + +CULVER. But what about the war, darling? + +MRS. CULVER (_loosing him_). Oh! You're always making the war an excuse. +I know what I shall do. I shall just go-- + +CULVER. Yes, darling, just go and suggest a short armistice to the +Germans while you take me to Brighton for a week's fondling. + +MRS. CULVER. I shall just speak to Miss Starkey. Strange that the wife, +in order to influence the husband, should have to appeal to +(_disdainfully_) the lady secretary! But so it is. + +CULVER. Hermione, I must beg you not to interfere between Miss Starkey +and me. Interference will upset Miss Starkey, and I cannot stand her +being upset. I depend upon her absolutely. First, Miss Starkey is the +rock upon which my official existence is built. She is a serious and +conscientious rock. She is hard and expects me to be hard. Secondly, +Miss Starkey is the cushion between me and the world. She knows my +tender spots, and protects them. Thirdly, Miss Starkey is my rod--and I +kiss it. + +MRS. CULVER. Arthur!... (_tries to be agreeable_). But I really am +vexed. + +CULVER. Well, I'm only hungry. + +_Enter_ Parlourmaid. + +PARLOURMAID. Cook's compliments, madam, and dinner will be twenty +minutes late. (_Exit_.) + +(_A shocked silence_.) + +CULVER (_with an exhausted sigh_). And yet I gave that cook one of my +most captivating smiles this morning. + +MRS. CULVER (_settling_ Mr. Culver _into a chair_). She's done it simply +because I told her to-night that rationing is definitely coming in. Her +reply was that the kitchen would never stand it, whatever the Government +said. She was quite upset--and so she's gone and done something to the +dinner. + +CULVER. Surely rather illogical of her, isn't it? Or have I missed a +link in the chain of reasoning? + +MRS. CULVER. I shall give her notice--after dinner. + +JOHN. Couldn't you leave it till after the holidays, mother? + +HILDEGARDE. And where shall you find another cook, mamma? + +MRS. CULVER. The first thing is to get rid of the present one. Then we +shall see. + +CULVER. My dear, you talk as if she was a prime minister. Still, it +might be a good plan to sack all the servants before rationing comes in, +and engage deaf-mutes. + +MRS. CULVER. Deaf-mutes! + +CULVER. Deaf-mutes. Then they wouldn't be worried by the continual +groaning of _my_ hunger, and I shouldn't hear any complaints about +_theirs_. + +MRS. CULVER (_to_ Hildegarde). My pet, you've time to change now. Do run +and change. You're so sombre. + +HILDEGARDE. I can't do it in twenty minutes. + +MRS. CULVER. Then put a bright shawl on--for papa's sake. + +HILDEGARDE. I haven't got a bright shawl. + +MRS. CULVER. Then take mine. The one with the pink beads on it. It's in +my wardrobe--right-hand side. + +JOHN. That means it'll be on the left-hand side. + +(_Exit_ Hildegarde, _back, with a look at Tranto, who opens the door for +her_.) + +MRS. CULVER (_with sweet apprehensiveness_). Now Arthur, I'm afraid +after all you have something on your mind. + +CULVER. I've got nothing on my stomach, anyway. (_Bracing himself_.) +Yes, darling, it's true. I have got something on my mind. Within the +last hour I've had a fearful shock-- + +MRS. CULVER. I knew it! + +CULVER. And I need sustaining. I hadn't meant to say anything until +after dinner, but in view of cook's drastic alterations in the +time-table I may as well tell you (_looking round_) at once. + +MRS. CULVER. It's something about the Government again. + +CULVER. The Government has been in a very serious situation. + +MRS. CULVER (_alarmed_). You mean they're going to ask you to resign? + +CULVER. I wish they would! + +MRS. CULVER. Arthur! Do please remember the country is at war. + +CULVER. Is it? So it is. You see, my pet, I remember such a lot of +things. I remember that my brainy partner is counting khaki trousers in +the Army clothing department. I remember that my other partner ought to +be in a lunatic asylum, but isn't. I remember that my business is going +to the dogs at a muzzle velocity of about five thousand feet a second. I +remember that from mere snobbishness I work for the Government without a +penny of salary, and that my sole reward is to be insulted and libelled +by high-brow novelists who write for the press. Therefore you ought not +to be startled if I secretly yearn to resign. However, I shall not be +asked to resign. I said that the Government had been in a very serious +situation. It was. But it will soon recover. + +MRS. CULVER. How soon? + +CULVER. On New Year's Day. + +JOHN. Then what's the fearful shock, dad? + +MRS. CULVER. Yes. Have you heard anything special? + +CULVER. No. But I've seen something special. I saw it less than an hour +ago. It was shown to me without the slightest warning, and I admit it +shook me. You can perceive for yourselves that it shook me. + +MRS. CULVER. But what? + +CULVER. The New Year's Honours List--or rather a few choice selections +from the more sensational parts of it. + +_Enter_ Hildegarde. + +MRS. CULVER. Arthur, _what_ do you mean? (_To_ Hildegarde, _in +despair_.) My chick, your father grows more and more puzzling every day! +How well that shawl suits you! You look quite a different girl. But +you've--(_arranges the shawl on_ Hildegarde) I really don't know what +your father has on his mind! I really don't! + +JOHN (_impatient of this feminine manifestation_). Oh, dad, go on. Go +on! I want to get at the bottom of this titles business. I'm hanged if I +can understand it. What strikes me as an unprejudiced observer is that +titles are supposed to be such a terrific honour, and yet the people who +deal them out scarcely ever keep any for themselves. Look at Mr. +Gladstone, for instance. He must have made about forty earls and seven +thousand baronets in his time. Now if I was a Prime Minister, and I +believed in titles--which I jolly well don't--I should make myself a +duke right off; and I should have several marquises and viscounts round +me in the Cabinet like a sort of bodyguard, and my private secretaries +would have to be knights. There'd be some logic in that arrangement +anyhow. + +CULVER. In view of your political career, John, will you mind if I give +you a brief lesson on elementary politics--though you _are_ on your +holidays? + +JOHN (_easily_). I'm game. + +CULVER. What is the first duty of modern Governments? + +JOHN. To govern. + +CULVER. My innocent boy. I thought better of you. I know that you look +on the venerable Mr. Tranto as a back number, and I suspect that Mr. +Tranto in his turn regards me as prehistoric; and yet you are so behind +the times as to imagine that the first duty of modern Governments is to +govern! My dear Rip van Winkle, wake up. The first duty of a Government +is to live. It has no right to be a Government at all unless it is +convinced that if it fell the country would go to everlasting smash. +Hence its first duty is to survive. In order to survive it must do three +things--placate certain interests, influence votes, and obtain secret +funds. All these three things can be accomplished by the ingenious +institution of Honours. Only the simple-minded believe that Honours are +given to honour. Honours are given to save the life of the Government. +Hence the Honours List. Examine the Honours List and you can instantly +tell how the Government feels in its inside. When the Honours List is +full of rascals, millionaires, and--er--chumps, you may be quite sure +that the Government is dangerously ill. + +TRANTO. But that amounts to what we've been saying in _The Echo_ to-day. + +CULVER. Yes, I've read the _The Echo_. + +JOHN. I thought you never had a free moment at the office--always rushed +to death--at least that's the mater's theory. + +CULVER. I've read _The Echo_, and my one surprise is that you're here +to-night, Tranto. + +TRANTO. Why? + +CULVER. I quite thought you'd have been shoved into the Tower under the +Defence of the Realm Act. Or Sampson Straight, anyway. (Hildegarde +_starts_.) Your contributor has committed the unpardonable sin of +hitting the nail on the head. He might almost have seen an advance copy +of the Honours List. + +TRANTO. He hadn't. Nor had I. Who's in it? + +CULVER. You might ask who isn't in it. (_Taking a paper from his +pocket_.) Well, Gentletie's in it. He gets a knighthood. + +TRANTO. Never heard of him. Who is he? + +HILDEGARDE. Oh, yes, you've heard of him. (John _glances at her +severely_.) He's M.P. for some earthly paradise or other in the South +Riding. + +TRANTO. Oh! + +CULVER. Perhaps I might read you something written by my private +secretary--he's one of these literary wags. You see there's been a +demand that the Government should state clearly, in every case of an +Honour, exactly what services the Honour is given for. This (_taking +paper from his pocket_) is supposed to be the stuff sent round to the +Press by the Press Bureau. (_Reads_.) 'Mr. Gentletie has gradually made +a solid reputation for himself as the dullest man in the House of +Commons. Whenever he rises to his feet the House empties as if by magic. +In cases of inconvenience, when the Government wishes abruptly to close +a debate by counting out the House, it has invariably put up Mr. +Gentletie to speak. The device has never been known to fail. Nobody can +doubt that Mr. Gentletie's patriotic devotion to the Allied cause well +merits the knighthood which is now bestowed on him.' + +JOHN (_astounded_.) Stay me with flagons! + +TRANTO. So that's that! And who else? + +CULVER. Another of your esteemed uncles. + +TRANTO. Well, that's not very startling, seeing that my uncle's chief +daily organ is really a department of the Government. + +JOHN. What I say is-- + +HILDEGARDE (_simultaneously with_ John). Wouldn't it be more +correct--(_continuing alone_) wouldn't it be more correct to say that +the Government is really a department of your uncle's chief daily organ? + +JOHN. Hilda, old girl, I wish you wouldn't interrupt. Cookery's your +line. + +HILDEGARDE. Sorry, Johnnie. I see I was in danger of becoming unsexed. + +CULVER (_to_ John). Yes? You were about to say? + +JOHN. Oh, nothing. + +CULVER (_to_ Tranto). Shall I read the passage on your uncle? + +TRANTO. Don't trouble. Who's the next? + +CULVER. The next is--Ullivant, munitions manufacturer. Let me see. +(_Reads_.) By the simple means of saying that the cost price of shells +was eighteen shillings and ninepence each, whereas it was in fact only +ten shillings and ninepence, Mr. Joshua Ullivant has made a fortune of +two million pounds during the war. He has given a hundred thousand to +the Prince of Wales's Fund, a hundred thousand to the Red Cross, and a +hundred thousand to the party funds. Total net profit on the war, one +million seven hundred thousand pounds, not counting the peerage which is +now bestowed upon him, and which it must be admitted is a just reward +for his remarkable business acumen.' + +TRANTO. Very agreeable fellow Ullivant is, nevertheless. + +CULVER. Oh, he is. They're most of them too damned agreeable for +anything. Another prominent name is Orlando Bush. + +TRANTO. Ah! + +MRS. CULVER. I've met his wife. She dances beautifully at charity +matinees. + +CULVER. No doubt. But apparently that's not the reason. + +TRANTO. I know Orlando. I've just bought the serial rights of his book. + +CULVER. Have you paid him? + +TRANTO. No. + +CULVER. How wise of you! (_Reads_). 'Mr. Orlando Bush has written a +historical sketch, with many circumstantial details, of the political +origins of the present Government. For his forbearance in kindly +consenting to withold publication until the end of the war Mr. Bush +receives a well-earned'-- + +TRANTO. What? + +CULVER. Knighthood. + +TRANTO. Cheap! But what a sell for me! + +CULVER. Now, ladies and gentlemen, the last name with which I will +trouble you is that of Mr. James Brill. + +TRANTO. Not Jimmy Brill! + +CULVER. Jimmy Brill. + +TRANTO. But he's a-- + +CULVER. Stop, my dear Tranto. No crude phrases, please. (_Reads_.) 'Mr. +James Brill, to use the language of metaphor, possessed a pistol, which +pistol he held point blank at the head of the Government. The Government +has thought it wise to purchase Mr. James Brill's pistol--' + +TRANTO. But he's a-- + +CULVER (_raising a hand_). He is merely the man with the pistol, and in +exchange for the pistol he gets a baronetcy. + +TRANTO. A baronetcy! + +CULVER. His title and pistol will go rattling down the ages, my dear +Tranto, from generation to generation. For the moment the fellow's name +stinks, but only for the moment. In the nostrils of his grandson (third +baronet), it will have a most sweet odour. + +MRS. CULVER. But all this is perfectly shocking. + +CULVER. Now I hope you comprehend my emotion, darling. + +MRS. CULVER But surely there are some _nice_ names on the List. + +CULVER. Of course. There have to be some nice names, for the sake of the +psychological effect on the public mind on New Year's Day. The public +looks for a good name, or for a name it can understand. It skims down +the List till it sees one. Then it says: 'Ah! That's not so bad!' Then +it skims down further till it sees another one, and it says again: 'Ah! +That's not so bad!' And so on. So that with about five or six decent +names you can produce the illusion that after all the List is really +rather good. + +HILDEGARDE. The strange thing to me is that decent people condescend to +receive titles at all. + +MRS. CULVER. Bravo, Hildegarde! Yes, if it's so bad as you make out, +Arthur, why _do_ decent people take Honours? + +CULVER. I'll tell you. Decent people have wives, and their wives lead +them by the nose. That's why decent people take Honours. + +MRS. CULVER. Well, I think it's monstrous! + +CULVER. So it is. I've been a Conservative all my life; I am a +Conservative. I swear I am. And yet, now when I look back, I'm amazed at +the things I used to do. Why, once I actually voted against a candidate +who stood for the reform of the House of Lords. Seems incredible. This +war is changing my ideas. (_Suddenly, after a slight pause_.) I'm +dashed if I don't join the Labour party and ask Ramsay Macdonald to +lunch. + +_Enter_ Parlourmaid, _back_. + +PARLOURMAID. You are wanted on the telephone, madam. + +MRS. CULVER. Oh, Arthur! (_Pats him on the shoulder as she goes out_.) + +(_Exit_ Mrs. Culver _and_ Parlourmaid, _back_.) + +CULVER. Hildegarde, go and see if you can hurry up dinner. + +HILDEGARDE. No one could. + +CULVER. Never mind, go and see. (_Exit_ Hildegarde, _back_.) John, just +take these keys, and get some cigars out of the cabinet, you know, +Partagas. + +JOHN. Oh! Is it a Partaga night? (_Exit, back_.) + +CULVER (_watching the door close_). Tranto, we are conspirators. + +TRANTO. You and I? + +CULVER. Yes. But we must have no secrets. Who wrote that article in _The +Echo_? Who is Sampson Straight? + +TRANTO (_temporising, lightly_). You remind me of the man with the +pistol. + +CULVER. Is it Hildegarde? + +TRANTO. How did you guess? + +CULVER. Well; first, I knew my daughter couldn't be the piffling lunatic +who does your war cookery articles. Second, I asked myself: What reason +has she for pretending to be that piffling lunatic? Third, I have an +exceedingly high opinion of my daughter's brains. Fourth, she gave a +funny start just now when I mentioned the idea of Sampson Straight going +to the Tower. + +TRANTO. Perhaps I ought to explain-- + +CULVER. No you oughn't. There's no time. I simply wanted a bit of +information. I've got it. Now I have a bit of information for you. I've +been offered a place in this beautiful Honours List. Baronetcy! Me! I am +put on the same high plane as Mr. James Brill, the unspeakable. The +formal offer hasn't actually arrived--it's late; I expect the letter'll +be here in the morning--but I know for a fact I'm in the List for a +baronetcy. + +TRANTO. Well, I congratulate you. + +CULVER. You'd better not. + +TRANTO. You deserve more than a baronetcy. Your department has been a +striking success--one of the very few in the whole length of Whitehall. + +CULVER. I know my department has been a success. But that's not why I'm +offered a baronetcy. Good heavens, I haven't even spoken to any member +of the War Cabinet yet. I've been trying to for about a year, but in +spite of powerful influences to help me I've never been able to bring +off a meeting with the mandarins. No! I'm offered a baronetcy because +I'm respectable; I'm decent; and at the last moment they thought the +List looked a bit too thick--so they pushed me in. One of their +brilliant afterthoughts!... No damned merit about the thing, I can tell +you! + +TRANTO. Do you mean you intend to refuse? + +CULVER. Do you mean you ever imagined that I should accept? Me, in the +same galley with Brill--who daren't go into his own clubs--and Ullivant, +and a few more pretty nearly as bad! Of course, I shall refuse. Nothing +on earth would induce me to accept. Nothing! (_More calmly_.) Mind you, +I don't blame the Government; probably the Government can't help itself. +Therefore the Government must be helped; and sometimes the best way to +help a fellow creature is to bring him to his senses by catching him one +across the jaw. + +TRANTO. Why are you making a secret of it? The offer is surely bound to +come out. + +CULVER. Of course. I'm only making a secret of it for the moment, while +I prepare the domestic ground for my refusal. + +TRANTO. You wish me to understand-- + +CULVER. You know what women are. (_With caution_.) I speak of the sex in +general. + +TRANTO. I see. + +CULVER. That's all right. + +TRANTO. Well, if I mayn't congratulate you on the title, let me +congratulate you on your marvellous skill in this delicate operation of +preparing the domestic ground for your refusal of the title. Your +success is complete, absolute. + +CULVER (_sardonic_.) Complete? Absolute? + +TRANTO. You have--er--jockeyed Mrs.--er--the sex into committing itself +quite definitely against titles. Hence I look on your position as +impregnable. + +CULVER. Good heavens, Tranto! How old are you? + +TRANTO. Twenty-five. + +CULVER. A quarter of a century--and you haven't learnt that no position +is impregnable against--er--the sex! You never know where the offensive +will come, nor when, nor how. The offensive is bound to be a surprise. +You aren't married. When you are you'll soon find out that being a +husband is a whole-time job. That's why so many husbands fail. They +can't give their entire attention to it. Tranto, my position must be +still further strengthened--during dinner. It can't be strengthened too +much. I've brought you into the conspiracy because you're on the spot +and I want you to play up. + +TRANTO. Certainly, sir. + +CULVER. The official letter _might_ come by to-night's post. If it does, +a considerable amount of histrionic skill will be needed. + +TRANTO. Trust me for that. + +CULVER. Oh! I do! Indeed I fancy after all I'm fairly safe. There's only +one danger. + +TRANTO. Yes? + +CULVER. My--I mean the sex, must hear of the offered title from me +first. If the news came to her indirectly she'd-- + +_Enter_ Mrs. Culver _rapidly, back_. + +MRS. CULVER (_rushing to him_). Darling! Dearest! What a tease you are! +You needn't pretend any longer. Lady Prockter has just whispered to me +over the telephone that you're to have a baronetcy. Of course she'd be +bound to know. She said I might tell you. I never _dreamed_ of a title. +I'm so glad. Oh! But you _are_ a tease! (_Kisses him enthusiastically_.) + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT II + + + + +ACT II + + +_The next day after dinner_. Culver _and_ Parlourmaid. + +CULVER (_handing_ Parlourmaid _a letter_). That's for the post. Is Miss +Starkey here? + +PARLOURMAID. Yes, sir. She is waiting. + +CULVER. Ask her to be good enough to keep on waiting. She may come in +when I ring twice. + +PARLOURMAID. Yes, sir. + +_Enter_ Mrs. Culver, _back_. + +MRS. CULVER (_to_ Parlourmaid, _stopping her as she goes out, +dramatically_). Give me that letter. (_She snatches the letter from the_ +Parlourmaid.) You can go. (Culver _rises_.) (_Exit_ Parlourmaid.) + +MRS. CULVER. I am determined to make a stand this time. + +CULVER (_soothingly_). So I see, darling. + +MRS. CULVER. I have given way to you all my life. But I won't give way +now. This letter shall not go. + +CULVER. As you like, darling. + +MRS. CULVER. No. (_She tears the envelope open, without having looked at +it, and throws the letter into the fire. In doing so she lets fall a +cheque_.) + +CULVER (_rising and picking up the cheque_). I'll keep the cheque as a +memento. + +MRS. CULVER. Cheque? What cheque? + +CULVER. Darling, once in the old, happy days--I think it was last +week--you and I were walking down Bond Street, almost hand in hand, but +not quite, and you saw a brooch in a shop window. You simply had to have +that brooch. I offered it to you for a Christmas present. You are +wearing it now, and very well it suits you. This (_indicating the +cheque_) was to pay the bill. + +MRS. CULVER. Arthur! + +CULVER. Moral: Look before you burn. Miss Starkey will now have to write +a fresh letter. + +MRS. CULVER. Arthur! You must forgive me. I'm in a horrid state of +nerves, and you said you were positively going to write to Lord Woking +to-night to refuse the title. + +CULVER. I did say so. + +MRS. CULVER (_hopefully_). But you haven't written? + +CULVER. I haven't. + +MRS. CULVER. You don't know how relieved I am! + +CULVER (_sitting down, drawing her to him, and setting her on his +knee_). Infant! Cherub! Angel! Dove!... Devil! (_Caressing her_.) Are we +friends? + +MRS. CULVER. It kills me to quarrel with you. (_They kiss_.) + +CULVER. Darling, we are absurd. + +MRS. CULVER. I don't care. + +CULVER. Supposing that anyone came in and caught us! + +MRS. CULVER. Well, we're married. + +CULVER.--But it's so long since. Hildegarde's twenty-one! John, +seventeen! + +MRS. CULVER. It seems to me like yesterday. + +CULVER. Yes, you're incurably a girl. + +MRS. CULVER. I'm not. + +CULVER. You are. And I'm a boy. I say we are absurd. We're continually +absurd. We were absurd all last evening when we pretended before the +others, with the most disastrous results, that nothing was the matter. +We were still more absurd when we went to our twin beds and argued +savagely with each other from bed to bed until four o'clock this +morning. Do you know that I had exactly one hour and fifty-five minutes' +sleep? (_Yawns_.) Do you know that owing to extreme exhaustion my +behaviour at my office to-day has practically lost the war? But the most +absurd thing of all was you trying to do the Roman matron business at +dinner to-night. Mind you, I adore you for being absurd, but-- + +MRS. CULVER (_very endearingly, putting her hand on his mouth_). +Dearest, you needn't continue. I know you're wiser and stronger than me +in every way. But I love that. Most women wouldn't; but I do. (_Kisses +him_.) Oh! I'm so glad you've at last seen the force of my arguments +about the title. + +CULVER (_gently warning_). Now, now! You're behaving like a journalist. + +MRS. CULVER. Like a journalist? + +CULVER. Journalists say a thing that they know isn't true, in the hope +that if they keep on saying it long enough it _will_ be true. + +MRS. CULVER. But you do see the force of my arguments! + +CULVER. Quite. But I also see the force of mine, and, as an impartial +judge, I'm bound to say that yours aren't in it with mine. + +MRS. CULVER. Then you've refused the title after all? + +CULVER (_ingratiatingly_). No. I told you I hadn't. But I'm going to. I +was just thinking over the terms of the fatal letter to Lord Woking when +you came in. Starkey is now waiting for me to dictate it. You see it +positively must be posted to-night. + +MRS. CULVER (_springing from his knee_). Arthur, you're playing with me! + +CULVER. No doubt. Like a mouse plays with a cat. + +MRS. CULVER. Surely it has occurred to you-- + +CULVER (_firmly, but very pleasantly_). Stop! You had till four o'clock +this morning to deliver all your arguments. You aren't going to begin +again. I understand you've stayed in bed all day. Quite right! But if +you stayed in bed merely to think of fresh arguments while I've been +slaving away at the office for my country, I say you're taking an unfair +advantage of me, and I won't have it. + +MRS. CULVER (_with dignity_). No. I haven't any fresh arguments; and if +I had, I shouldn't say what they were. + +CULVER. Oh! Why? + +MRS. CULVER. Because I can see it's useless to argue with a man like +you. + +CULVER. Now that's what I call better news from the Front. + +MRS. CULVER. I was only going to say this. Surely it has occurred to you +that on patriotic grounds alone you oughtn't to refuse the title. I +quite agree that Honours have been degraded. Quite! The thing surely is +to try and make them respectable again. And how are they ever to be +respectable if respectable men refuse them? + +CULVER. This looks to me suspiciously like an argument. + +MRS. CULVER. Not at all. It's simply a question. + +CULVER. Well, the answer is, I don't want Honours to be respectable any +more. Proverb: When fish has gone bad ten thousand decent men can't take +away the stink. + +MRS. CULVER. Now you're insulting your country. I know you often pretend +your country's the slackest place on earth, but it's only pretence. You +don't really think so. The truth is that inside you you're positively +conceited about your country. You think it's the greatest country that +ever was. And so it is. And yet when your country offers you this honour +you talk about bad fish. I say it's an insult to Great Britain. + +CULVER. Great Britain hasn't offered me any title. The fact is that +there are a couple of shrewd fellows up a devil of a tree in Whitehall, +and they're waving a title at me in the hope that I shall come and stand +under the tree so that they can get down by putting their dirty boots on +my shoulders. Well, I'm not going to be a ladder. + +MRS. CULVER. I wish you wouldn't try to be funny. + +CULVER. I'm not _trying_ to be funny. I _am_ being funny. + +MRS. CULVER. You might be serious for once. + +CULVER. I am serious. Beneath this amusing and delightful exterior, +there is hidden the most serious, determined, resolute, relentless, +inexorable, immovable man that ever breathed. And let me tell you +something else, my girl--something I haven't mentioned before because of +my nice feelings. What has this title affair got to do with you? What +the dickens has it got to do with you? The title isn't offered as a +reward for _your_ work; it's offered as a reward for _my_ work. _You_ +aren't the Controller of Accounts, _I_ happen to be the Controller of +Accounts. I have decided to refuse the title, and I shall refuse it. +_Nothing will induce me to accept it_. Do I make myself clear, or +(_smiling affectionately_) am I lost in a mist of words? + +MRS. CULVER (_suddenly furious_). You are a brute. You always were. You +never think of anybody but yourself. My life has been one long +sacrifice, and you know it perfectly well. Perfectly well! You talk +about _your_ work. What about my work? Why! You'd be utterly useless +without me. You can't even look after your own collars. Could you go +down to your ridiculous office without a collar? I've done everything +for you, everything! And now! (_Weeping_). I can't even be called 'my +lady.' I only wanted to hear the parlourmaid call me 'my lady.' It seems +a simple enough thing-- + +CULVER (_persuasively and softly, trying to seize her_). You divine +little snob! + +MRS. CULVER (_in a supreme, blazing outbreak escaping him_). Let me +alone! I told you at the start I should never give way. And I never +will. Never! If you send that letter of refusal, do you know what I +shall do? I shall go and see the War Cabinet myself. I shall tell them +you don't mean it. I'll make the most horrible scandal.... When I think +of the Duke of Wellington-- + +CULVER (_surprised and alarmed_). The Duke of Wellington? + +MRS. CULVER (_drawing herself up at the door, L_). The Duke of +Wellington didn't refuse a title! Hildegarde shall sleep in our room, +and you can have hers! (_Exit violently, L_.) + +CULVER (_intimidated, as she goes_). Look here, hurricane! (_He rushes +out after her_.) + +_Enter_ Hildegarde _and_ Tranto, _back_. + +HILDEGARDE (_seeing the room empty_). Well, I thought I heard them. + +TRANTO (_catching noise of high words from the boudoir_.) I fancy I _do_ +hear them. + +HILDEGARDE. Perhaps we'd better go. + +TRANTO. But I want to speak to you--just for a moment. + +HILDEGARDE (_moving uneasily_). What about? + +TRANTO. I don't know. Anything. It doesn't matter what ... I don't hear +them now. + +HILDEGARDE (_listening and hearing nothing; reassured_). I should have +thought you wouldn't have wanted to come here any more for a long time. + +TRANTO. Why? + +HILDEGARDE. After the terrible experiences of last night, during dinner +and after dinner. + +TRANTO. The general constraint? + +HILDEGARDE. The general constraint. + +TRANTO. The awkwardness? HILDEGARDE. The awkwardness. + +TRANTO. The frightful silences and the forced conversations? + +HILDEGARDE (_nods_). Why _did_ you come? + +TRANTO. Well-- + +HILDEGARDE. I suppose you're still confined to this house. + +TRANTO (_in a new confidential tone_). I wish you'd treat me as your +father does. + +HILDEGARDE. But of course I will-- + +TRANTO. That's fine. He treats me as an intimate friend. + +HILDEGARDE. But you must treat me as you treat papa. + +TRANTO (_slightly dashed_). I'll try. I might tell you that I had two +very straight talks with your father last night. + +HILDEGARDE. Two? + +TRANTO. Yes; one before dinner, and the other just before I left--when +you'd gone to bed. He began them--both of them. + +HILDEGARDE. Oh! So that you may be said to know the whole situation. + +TRANTO. Yes. Up to last thing last night, that is. + +HILDEGARDE. Since then it's developed on normal lines. What do you think +of it? + +TRANTO. I adore your mother, but I think your father's quite right. + +HILDEGARDE. Well, naturally! I take that for granted. I was expecting +something rather more original. + +TRANTO. You shall have it. I think that you and I are very largely +responsible for the situation. I think our joint responsibility binds us +inextricably together. + +HILDEGARDE. Mr. Tranto! + +TRANTO. Certainly. There's no doubt in my mind that your father was +enormously influenced by Sampson Straight's article on the Honours +scandal. In fact he told me so. And seeing that you wrote it and I +published it-- + +HILDEGARDE (_alarmed_). You didn't tell him I'm Sampson Straight? +TRANTO. Can you imagine me doing such a thing? + +HILDEGARDE. I hope not. Shall I tell you what _I_ think of the +situation? + +TRANTO. I wish you would. + +HILDEGARDE. I think such situations would never arise if parents weren't +so painfully unromantic. I'm not speaking particularly of papa and +mamma. I mean all parents. But take mamma. She's absolutely +matter-of-fact. And papa's nearly as bad. Of course I know they're +always calling each other by pet names; but that's mere camouflage for +their matter-of-factness. Whereas if they both had in them a little of +the real romance of life--everything would be different. At the same +time I needn't say that in this affair that we're now in the middle +of--there's no question of ratiocination. + +TRANTO. Of what? + +HILDEGARDE. Ratiocination. Reasoning. On either side. + +TRANTO. Oh no! + +HILDEGARDE. It's simply a question of mutual attitude, isn't it? Now, if +only--. But there! What's the use? Parents are like that, poor dears! +They have forgotten! (_With emphasis_.) They have forgotten--what makes +life worth living. + +TRANTO. You mean, for instance, your mother never sits on your father's +knee. + +HILDEGARDE (_bravely, after hesitation_). Yes! Crudely--that's what I do +mean. + +TRANTO. Miss Hildegarde, you are the most marvellous girl I ever met. +You are, really! You seem to combine all qualities. It's amazing to me. +I'm more and more astounded. Every time I come here there's a fresh +revelation. Now you mention romance. I'm glad you mentioned it first. +But I _saw_ it first. I saw it in your eyes the first time I ever met +you. Yes! Miss Hilda, do you see it in mine? Look. Look closely. +(_Approaching her_.) Because it's there. I must tell you. I can't wait +any longer. (_Feeling for her hand, vainly_.) + +HILDEGARDE (_drawing back_). Mr. Tranto, is this the way you treat +father? + +_Enter_ Mr. Culver, _back_. + +CULVER (_quickly_). Hilda, go to your mother. She's upstairs. +HILDEGARDE. What am I to do? + +CULVER. I don't know. (_With meaning_.) Think what the sagacious Sampson +Straight would do, and do that. + +(Hildegarde _gives a sharp look first at_ Culver, _and then at_ Tranto, +_and exit, back_.) + +CULVER (_turning to_ Tranto). My dear fellow, the war is practically +over. + +TRANTO. Good heavens! There was nothing on the tape when I left the +Club. + +CULVER. Oh! I don't mean your war. I mean the twenty-two years' war. + +TRANTO. The twenty-two years' war? + +CULVER. My married life. Over! Finished! Napoo! + +TRANTO. Do you know what you're saying? + +CULVER. Look here, Tranto. You and I don't belong to the same +generation. In fact, if I'd started early enough I might have been your +father. But we got so damned intimate last night, and I'm in such a +damned hole, and you're so damned wise, that I feel I must talk to you. +Not that it'll be any use. + +TRANTO. But what's the matter? + +CULVER. The matter is--keeping a woman in the house. + +TRANTO. Mr. Culver! You don't mean-- + +CULVER. I mean my wife--of course. I've just had the most ghastly rumpus +with my wife. It was divided into two acts. The first took place here, +the second in the boudoir (_indicating boudoir_). The second act was the +shortest but the worst. + +TRANTO. But what was it all about? + +CULVER. Now for heaven's sake don't ask silly questions. You know +perfectly well what it was about. It was about the baronetcy. I have +decided to refuse that baronetcy, and my wife has refused to let me +refuse it. + +TRANTO. But what are her arguments? + +CULVER. I've implored you once not to ask silly questions. 'What are her +arguments' indeed! She hasn't got any arguments. You know that. You're +too wise not to know it. She merely wants the title, that's all. + +TRANTO. And how did the second act end? + +CULVER. I don't quite remember. + +TRANTO. Let me suggest that you sit down. (Culver _sits_.) Thanks. Now +I've always gathered from my personal observation, that you, if I may +say so, are the top dog here when it comes to the point--the crowned +head, as it were. + +CULVER. Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. At least, it did last +night, and I shall be greatly surprised if it doesn't to-night. + +TRANTO. Naturally. A crown isn't a night-cap. But you are the top dog. +In the last resort, what you say, goes. That is so, isn't it? I only +want to be clear. + +CULVER. Yes, I think that's pretty right. + +TRANTO. Well, you have decided on public grounds, and as a question of +principle, to refuse the title. You intend to refuse it. + +CULVER. I--I do. + +TRANTO. Nobody can stop you from refusing it. + +CULVER. Nobody. + +TRANTO. Mrs. Culver can't stop you from refusing it? + +CULVER. Certainly not. It concerns me alone. + +TRANTO. Well, then, where is the difficulty? A rumpus--I think you +said. What of that? My dear Mr. Culver, believe me, I have seen far more +of marriage than you have. You're only a married man. I'm a bachelor, +and I've assisted at scores of married lives. A rumpus is nothing. It +passes--and leaves the victor more firmly established than ever before. + +CULVER (_rising_). Don't talk to me of rumpuses. I know all about +rumpuses. This one is an arch-rumpus. This one is like no other rumpus +that ever was. It's something new in my vast experience. I shall win. I +have won. But at what cost? (_With effect_.) The cost may be that I +shall never kiss the enemy again. The whole domestic future is in grave +jeopardy. + +TRANTO. Seriously? + +CULVER. Seriously. + +TRANTO. Then you musn't win. + +CULVER. But what about my public duty? What about my principles? I can't +sacrifice my principles. + +TRANTO. Why not? + +CULVER. I never have. + +TRANTO. How old are you? + +CULVER. Forty-four. + +TRANTO. And you've never sacrificed a principle? + +CULVER. Never. + +TRANTO. Then it's high time you began. And you'd better begin, before +it's too late. Besides, there are no principles in married life. + +CULVER. Tranto, you are remarkable. How did you find that out? + +TRANTO. I've often noticed it. + +CULVER. It's a profound truth. It throws a new light on the entire +situation. + +TRANTO. It does. + +CULVER. Then you deliberately advise me to give way about the title? + +TRANTO. I do. + +CULVER. Strange! (_Casually_.) I had thought of doing so, but I never +dreamt you'd agree, and I'd positively determined to act on your advice. +You know, you're taking an immense responsibility. + +TRANTO. I can bear that. What I couldn't bear is any kind of real +trouble in this house. + +CULVER. Why? What's it got to do with you? + +TRANTO. Nothing! Nothing! Only my abstract interest in the institution +of marriage. + +CULVER (_ringing the bell twice_). Ah, well, after all, I'm not utterly +beaten yet. I've quite half an hour before post goes, and I shall fight +to the last ditch. + +TRANTO. But hasn't Mrs. Culver retired? + +CULVER. Yes. + +TRANTO. May I suggest that it would be mistaken tactics to--er--run +after her? + +CULVER. It would. + +TRANTO. Well then? + +CULVER. She will return. + +TRANTO. How do you know? + +CULVER. She always does.... No, Tranto, I may yet get peace on my own +terms. You see I'm an accountant. No ordinary people, accountants! For +one thing they make their money by counting other people's. I've known +accountants do marvellous stunts. + +_Enter_ Miss Starkey, _back_. + +TRANTO. I'll leave you. + +CULVER. You'll find John somewhere about. I shan't be so very long--I +hope. Miss Starkey, kindly take down these two letters. How much time +have we before post goes? + +(_Exit_ Tranto, _back_.) + +MISS STARKEY. Forty minutes. + +CULVER. Excellent. + +MISS STARKEY (_indicating some papers which she has brought_). These +things ought to be attended to to-night. + +CULVER. Possibly. But they won't be. + +MISS STARKEY. The Rosenberg matter is very urgent. He leaves for Glasgow +to-morrow. + +CULVER. I wish he'd leave for Berlin. I won't touch it to-night. Please +take down these two letters. + +MISS STARKEY. Then it will be necessary for you to be at the office at +9.30 in the morning. + +CULVER. I decline to be at the office at 9.30 in the morning. + +MISS STARKEY. But I've an appointment for you. I was afraid you wouldn't +do anything to-night. + +CULVER (_resigned_). Very well! Very well! Tell them to call me, and see +cook about breakfast. (_Beginning to dictate_.) 'My dear Lord Woking'-- + +MISS STARKEY (_sitting_). Excuse me, is this letter about the title? + +CULVER. Yes. + +MISS STARKEY. Then it ought to be an autograph letter. That's the +etiquette. + +CULVER. How do you know? + +MISS STARKEY. General knowledge. + +CULVER. In this case the rule will be broken. That's flat. + +MISS STARKEY. Then I must imitate your handwriting. + +CULVER. Can you? + +MISS STARKEY. You ought to know, Mr. Culver--by this time. + +CULVER. I don't know officially. However, have your own way. Forge the +whole thing, signature and all. I don't care. 'My dear Lord Woking. +Extreme pressure of--er--government business has compelled me to leave +till last thing to-night my reply to your letter in which you are good +enough to communicate to me the offer of a baronetcy. I cannot +adequately express to you my sense of the honour in contemplation, but, +comma, for certain personal reasons with which I need not trouble you, +comma, I feel bound, with the greatest respect and the greatest +gratitude, to ask to be allowed to refuse. (Miss Starkey _shows +emotion_.) I am sure I can rely on you to convey my decision to the +proper quarter with all your usual tact. Believe me, my dear Lord +Woking, Cordially yours.' (_To_ Miss Starkey.) What in heaven's name is +the matter with you? + +MISS STARKEY. Mr. Culver. I shall have to give you a month's notice. + +CULVER (_staggered_). Have--have you gone mad too? + +MISS STARKEY. Not that I am aware of. But I must give a month's +notice--for certain personal reasons with which I need not trouble you. +CULVER. Young woman, you know that you are absolutely indispensable to +me. You know that without you I should practically cease to exist. I am +quite open with you as to that--and as to everything. You are acquainted +with the very depths of my character and the most horrible secrets of my +life. I conceal nothing from you, and I demand that you conceal nothing +from me. What are your reasons for giving me notice in this manner? + +MISS STARKEY. My self respect would not allow me to remain with a +gentleman who had refused a title. Oh, Mr. Culver, to be the private +secretary to a baronet has been my life's dream. And--and--I have just +had the offer of a place where a _peerage_ is in prospect. Still, I +wouldn't have, taken even that if you had not--if you had +not--(_controlling herself, coldly_). Kindly accept my notice. I give it +at once because I shall have no time to lose for the peerage. + +CULVER. Miss Starkey, you drive me to the old, old conclusion--all women +are alike. + +MISS STARKEY. Then my leaving will cause you no inconvenience, because +you'll easily get another girl exactly like me. + +CULVER. You are a heartless creature. (_In an ordinary voice_.) Did we +finish the first letter? This is the second one. (_Dictates_.) 'My dear +Lord Woking'-- + +MISS STARKEY. But you've just given me that one. + +CULVER (_firmly_.) 'My dear Lord Woking.' Go on the same as the first +one down to 'I cannot adequately express to you my sense of the honour +in contemplation.' 'Full stop. I need hardly say that, in spite of my +feeling that I have done only too little to deserve it, I accept it with +the greatest pleasure and the greatest gratitude. Believe me, etc.' + +MISS STARKEY. But-- + +CULVER. Don't imagine that your giving me notice has affected me in the +slightest degree. It has not. I told you I had two letters. I have not +yet decided whether to accept or refuse the title. (_Enter_ Mrs. Culver, +_back_.) Go and copy both letters and bring them in to me in a quarter +of an hour, whether I ring or not. That will give you plenty of time for +post. Now--run! (_Exit_ Miss Starkey, _back_. Culver _rises, clears his +throat, and obviously braces himself for a final effort of firmness_. +Mrs. Culver _calmly rearranges some flowers in a vase_.) Well, my dear, +I was expecting you. + +MRS. CULVER (_very sweetly_), Arthur, I was wrong. + +CULVER (_startled_). Good God! (Mrs. Culver _bends down to examine the +upholstery of a chair_. Culver _gives a gesture, first of triumph, and +then of apprehension_.) + +MRS. CULVER (_looking straight at him_). I say I was wrong. + +CULVER (_lightly, but uneasily_). Oh no! Oh no! + +MRS. CULVER. Of course I don't mean wrong in my arguments about the +title. Not for a moment. I mean I was wrong not to sacrifice my own +point of view. I'm only a woman, and it's the woman's place to submit. +So I do submit. Naturally I shall always be a true wife to you, but-- + +CULVER. Now child, don't begin to talk like that. I don't mind _reading_ +novels, but I won't have raw lumps of them thrown _at_ me. + +MRS. CULVER (_with a gentle smile_), I _must_ talk like this. I shall do +everything I can to make you comfortable, and I hope nobody, and +especially not the poor children, will notice any difference in our +relations. + +CULVER (_advancing, with a sort of menace_). But? + +MRS. CULVER. But things can never be the same again. + +CULVER. I knew the confounded phrase was coming. I knew it. I've read it +scores of times. (_Picking up the vase_.) Hermione, if you continue in +that strain, I will dash this vase into a thousand fragments. + +MRS. CULVER (_quietly taking the vase from him and putting it down_). +Arthur, I could have forgiven you everything. What do I +care--really--about a title? (_Falsely_.) I only care for your +happiness. But I can't forgive you for having laid a trap for me last +night--and in front of the children and a stranger too. + +CULVER. Laid a trap for you? + +MRS. CULVER. You knew all about the title when you first came in last +night and you deliberately led me on. + +CULVER. Oh! That! Ah well! One does what one can. You've laid many a +trap for me, my girl. You're still about ten up and two to play in the +trap game. + +MRS. CULVER. I've never laid a trap for you. + +CULVER. Fibster! Come here. (Mrs. Culver _hesitates_.) Come hither--and +be kissed. (_She_ _approaches submissively, and then, standing like a +marble statue, allows herself to be kissed_. Culver _assumes the +attitude of the triumphant magnanimous male_.) There! That's all right. + +MRS. CULVER (_having moved away; still very sweetly and coldly_). Can I +do anything else for you before I go to bed? + +CULVER (_ignoring the question; grandly and tolerantly_). Do you +suppose, my marble statue, that after all I've said at the Club about +the rascality of this Honours business, I could ever have appeared there +as a New Year Baronet? The thing's unthinkable. Why, I should have had +to resign and join another Club! + +MRS. CULVER (_calmly and severely_). So that's it, is it? I might have +known what was really at the bottom of it all. Your Club again! You have +to choose between your wife and your Club, and of course it's your wife +that must suffer. Naturally! + +CULVER. Go on! You'll be saying next that I've committed bigamy with my +Club. + +MRS. CULVER (_with youthful vivacity_). I'm an old woman-- + +CULVER (_flatteringly_). Yes, look at you! Hag! When I fell in love +with you your hair was still down. The marvel to me is that I ever let +you put it up. + +MRS. CULVER. I'm only an old woman now. You have had the best part of my +life. You might have given me great pleasure with this title. But no! +Your Club comes first. And what a child you are! As if there's one +single member of your Club who wouldn't envy you your baronetcy! +However, I've nothing more to say. (_Moving towards the door, back_.) Oh +yes, I have. (_Casually_.) I've decided to go away to-morrow and stay +with grandma for a long holiday. She needs me, and if I'm not to break +down entirely I must have a change. I've told Hildegarde +our--arrangements. The poor girl's terribly upset. Please don't disturb +me in the morning. I shall take the noon train. Good-night. + +CULVER. Hermione! + +MRS. CULVER (_returning a little from the direction of the door, +submissively_). Yes, Arthur. + +CULVER. If you keep on playing the martyr much longer there will be +bloodshed, and you'll know what martyrdom is. + +MRS. CULVER (_in a slightly relenting tone_). Arthur, you were always +conscientious. Your conscience is working. + +CULVER. I have no conscience. Never had. + +MRS. CULVER (_persuasively, and with much charm_). Yes you have, and +it's urging you to give way to your sensible little wife. You know +you're only bluffing. + +CULVER. Indeed I'm not. + +MRS. CULVER. Yes, you are. Mr. Tranto advised you to give way, and you +think such a lot of his opinion. + +CULVER. Who told you Tranto advised me to give way? + +MRS. CULVER. He did. + +CULVER. Damn him! + +MRS. CULVER (_soothingly_). Yes, yes. + +CULVER. No, no! + +MRS. CULVER. And your dear, indispensable Miss Starkey thinks the same. +(_She tries to kiss him_.) CULVER. No, no! (Mrs. Culver _succeeds in +kissing him_.) + +_Enter_ Miss Starkey. + +(_The other two spring apart. A short pause_.) + +CULVER. Which is the refusal? + +MISS STARKEY. This one. + +CULVER. Put it in the fire. (Miss Starkey _obeys. Both the women show +satisfaction in their different ways_.) Give me the acceptance. (_He +takes the letter of acceptance and reads it_.) + +MRS. CULVER (_while he is reading the letter_). Miss Starkey, you look +very pale. Have you had any dinner? + +MISS STARKEY. Not yet, madam. + +MRS. CULVER. You poor dear! (_She strokes_ Miss Starkey. _They both look +at the tyrannical male_.) I'll order something for you at once. + +MISS STARKEY. I shall have to go to the post first. + +CULVER (_glancing up_). I'll go to the post myself. I must have air, +air! Where's the envelope? (_Exit_ Miss Starkey _quickly, back_.) (Mrs. +Culver _gently takes the letter from her husband and reads it_. Culver +_drops into a chair_.) + +MRS. CULVER (_putting down the letter_). Darling! + +CULVER. I thought I was a brute? + +MRS. CULVER (_caressing and kissing him_). I do so love my brute, and I +am so happy. Darling! But you are a silly old darling, wasting all this +time. + +CULVER. Wasting all what time? + +MRS. CULVER. Why, the moment I came in again I could see you'd decided +to give way. (_With a gesture of delight_.) I must run and tell the +children. (_Exit, L_.) + +_Enter_ Miss Starkey _back_. + +MISS STARKEY. Here's the envelope. + +CULVER (_taking it_). Tell them to get me my hat and overcoat. + +MISS STARKEY. Yes, Sir Arthur. (Culver _starts_.) (_Exit_ Miss Starkey, +_back_.) + +CULVER (_as he puts the letter in the envelope; with an air of +discovery_). I suppose I _do_ like being called 'Sir Arthur.' + +_Enter_ Hildegard _and_ John _both disgusted, back_. + +JOHN (_to_ Hildegarde, _as they come in_). I told you last night he +couldn't control even the mater. However, I'll be even with her yet. + +CULVER. What do you mean, boy? + +JOHN. I mean I'll be even with the mater yet. You'll see. + +HILDEGARDE. Papa, you've behaved basely. Basely! What an example to us! +I intend to leave this house and live alone. + +CULVER. You ought to marry Mr. Sampson Straight. (Hildegarde _starts and +is silent_.) + +JOHN. Fancy me having to go back to school the son of a rotten baronet, +and with the frightful doom of being a rotten baronet myself. What price +the anti-hereditary-principle candidate! Dad, I hope you won't die just +yet--it would ruin my political career. Stay me with flagons! + +CULVER. Me too! + +CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III + + + + +ACT III + + +_The next day, before lunch_. Hildegarde _and_ John _are together_. + +JOHN (_nervously impatient_). I wish she'd come. + +HILDEGARDE. She'll be here in a moment. She's fussing round dad. + +JOHN. Is he really ill? + +HILDEGARDE. Well of course. It came on in the night, after he'd had time +to think things over. Why? + +JOHN. I read in some paper about the Prime Minister having only a +_political_ chill. So I thought perhaps the pater--under the circs-- + +HILDEGARDE (_shaking her head_). You can't have political dyspepsia. +Can't fake the symptoms. Who is to begin this affair, you or me? + +JOHN. Depends. What line are you going on with her? + +HILDEGARDE. I'm going to treat her exactly as she treats me. I've just +thought of it. Only I shan't lose my temper. + +JOHN. Sugarsticks? + +HILDEGARDE. Yes. + +JOHN. You'll never be able to keep it up. + +HILDEGARDE. O yes I shall. Somehow I feel much more mature than I did +yesterday. + +JOHN. More mature? Stay me with flagons! I was always mature. If you +knew what rot I think school is...! Well, anyway, you can begin. + +HILDEGARDE. You're very polite to-day, Johnnie. + +JOHN. Don't mention it. My argument 'll be the best, and I want to keep +it for the end, that's all. + +HILDEGARDE. Thanks. But I bet you we shall both fail. + +JOHN. Well, if we do, I've still got something else waiting for her +ladyship. A regular startler, my child. + +HILDEGARDE. What is it? + +_Enter_ Mrs. Culver, _back_. + +JOHN (_to_ Hildegarde, _as_ Mrs. Culver _enters_). Wait and see. + +MRS. CULVER (_cheerful and affectionate, to_ John). So you've come in. +(_To_ Hildegarde.) You _are_ back early to-day! Well, my darlings, what +do you want me for? + +HILDEGARDE (_imitating her mothers manner_). Well, mamma darling, we +hate bothering you. We know you've got quite enough worries, without +having any more. But it's about this baronetcy business. (Mrs. Culver +_starts_.) Do be an angel and listen to us. + +MRS. CULVER (_with admirable self-control_). Of course, my pet. But you +know the matter is quite, quite settled. Your father and I settled it +together last night, and the letter of acceptance is in the hands of the +Government by this time. + +JOHN. It isn't, mater. It's here. (_Pulls the letter out of his +pocket_.) + +MRS. CULVER. John! What-- + +JOHN. Now, now, mater! Keep calm. This is really your own doing. Pater +wanted to go to the post himself, but it was raining a bit, and you're +always in such a fidget about his getting his feet wet you wouldn't let +him go, and so I went instead. + +HILDEGARDE. Yes, mummy darling, you must acknowledge that you were +putting temptation in Johnnie's way. + +JOHN. Soon as I got outside, I said to myself: 'I think the pater ought +to have a night to think over this affair. It's very important. And he +can easily send round an answer by hand in the morning.' So I didn't +post the letter. I should have told you earlier, but you weren't down +for breakfast, and I had to go out afterwards on urgent private +business. + +MRS. CULVER. But--but--(_Controlling herself, grieved, but kind_.) Your +father will be terribly angry. I daren't face him. + +JOHN (_only half-suppressing his amusement at the last remark_). Don't +let that worry you. I'll face him. He'll be delighted. He'll write +another letter, and quite a different one. + +MRS. CULVER (_getting firmer_). But don't I tell you, my dearest boy, +that the affair is settled, quite settled? + +JOHN. It isn't settled so long as I've got this letter, anyway. + +HILDEGARDE. Of course it isn't settled. Mother darling, we simply must +look the facts in the face. Fact one, the letter is here. Fact two, the +whole family is most frightfully upset. Dad's ill-- + +MRS. CULVER. That was the lobster. + +JOHN. It wasn't. + +MRS. CULVER. Yes, dear. Lobster always upsets him. + +JOHN. It didn't this time. + +MRS. CULVER. How do you know? + +JOHN. I know, because _I_ ate all his lobster. He shoved it over to me. +You couldn't see for the fruit-bowl. + +HILDEGARDE. No, mamma sweetest. It's this baronetcy business that's +knocked poor papa over. And it's knocked over Johnnie and me too. I'm +perfectly, perfectly sure you acted for the best, but don't you think +you persuaded father against his judgment? Not to speak of our judgment! + +MRS. CULVER. I've only one thought-- + +HILDEGARDE (_caressing and kissing +her mother_). I know! I know! Father's happiness. Our happiness. Mamma, +please don't imagine for a single instant that we don't realise that. +You're the most delicious darling of an old mater-- + +MRS. CULVER (_slightly suspicious_). Hildegarde, you're quite a +different girl to-day. + +HILDEGARDE (_nods_). I've aged in a single night. I've become ever so +serious. This baronetcy business has shown me that I've got +convictions--and deep convictions. I admit I'm a different girl to-day. +But then everything's different to-day. The whole house is different. +Johnnie's different. Papa's missed going to the office for the first +time in eight months. (_Very sweetly_.) Surely you must see, mamma, that +something ought to be done, and that you alone can do it. + +MRS. CULVER. What? What ought I to do? + +HILDEGARDE. Go upstairs and tell dad you've changed your mind about the +title, and advise him to write off instantly and refuse it. You know you +always twist him round your little finger. + +MRS. CULVER (_looking at her little finger_). I shouldn't dream of +trying to influence your father once he had decided. And he _has_ +decided. + +HILDEGARDE (_sweetly_). Mamma, you're most tremendously clever--far +cleverer than any of us--but I'm not sure if you understand the attitude +of the modern girl towards things that affect her convictions. + +MRS. CULVER (_sweetly_). Are you the modern girl. + +HILDEGARDE. Yes. + +MRS. CULVER. Well, I'm the ancient girl. And I can tell you this--you're +very like me, and we're both very like somebody else. + +HILDEGARDE. Who's that. + +MRS. CULVER. Eve. + +JOHN. Come, mater. Eve would never have learnt typewriting. She'd have +gone on the land. + +MRS. CULVER. John, your sister and I are not jesting. + +HILDEGARDE. I'm so glad you admit I'm serious, mamma. Because I +am--very. I don't want to threaten-- + +MRS. CULVER. Threaten, darling? + +HILDEGARDE (_firmly, but quite lightly and sweetly_). No, darling. +_Not_ to threaten. The mere idea of threatening is absurd. But it would +be extremely unfair to you not to tell you that unless you agree to +father refusing the title, I shall have to leave the house and live by +myself. I really shall. Of course I can easily earn my own living. I +quite see that you have principles. But I also have principles. If they +clash--naturally it's my place to retire. And I shall, mamma dearest. + +MRS. CULVER. Is that final? + +HILDEGARDE. Final, mummy darling. + +MRS. CULVER. Then, my dearest child, you must go. + +HILDEGARDE (_still sweetly_). Is that final? + +MRS. CULVER (_still sweetly_). Final, my poor pet. + +JOHN (_firmly_). Now let _me_ say a word. + +MRS. CULVER (_benignly_). And what have you got to say in the matter? +You've already been very naughty about that letter. Do try not to be +ridiculous. Give me the letter. This affair has nothing to do with you. +JOHN (_putting the letter in his pocket_). Nothing whatever to do with +me! Mater, you really are a bit too thick. If it was a knighthood, I +wouldn't care. You could have your blooming knighthood. Knighthoods do +come to an end. Baronetcies go on for ever. I've told the dad, and I'll +tell you, that _I will not have_ my political career ruined by any +baronetcy. And if you insist--may I respectfully inform you what I shall +do? May I respectfully inform you--may I? + +MRS. CULVER. John! + +JOHN. I shall chuck Siege and go into the Flying Corps. And that's flat. +If you really want to shorten my life, all you have to do is to stick to +that bally baronetcy. + +MRS. CULVER. Your father won't allow you to join the Flying Corps. + +JOHN. My father can't stop me. I know the mess is expensive, but the +pay's good, and I've got £150 of my own. Not a fortune! Not a fortune! +But enough, quite enough. _A short life and a merry one_. I went to see +Captain Skewes at the Automobile this morning. One of our old boys. He's +delighted. He gave me Lanchester's 'Aircraft in Warfare' to read. Here +it is. (_Picking up the book_.) Here it _is_! I shall be sitting up all +night to-night reading it. _A short life and a merry one_. + +MRS. CULVER. You don't mean it! + +JOHN. I absolutely do. + +MRS. CULVER (_after a pause_). John, you're trying to bully your mother. + +JOHN. Not in the least, mater. I'm merely telling you what will happen +if father accepts that piffling baronetcy. + +MRS. CULVER (_checking a tear; very sweetly_). Well, my pets, you make +life just a little difficult for me. I live only for you and your +father. I think first of your father, and then of you two. For myself, I +am perfectly indifferent. I consider all politics extremely silly. There +never were any in my family, nor in your father's. And to me it's most +extraordinary that your father should catch them so late in life. I +always supposed that after thirty people were immune. (_To_ John.) You, +I suppose, were bound to have them sooner or later, but that _Hilda_ +should go out of her way to contract them--well, it passes me. It passes +me. However, I've no more to say. Your father had made up his mind to +accept the title. You want him to refuse it. I hate to influence him +(Hildegarde _again hides a cynical smile_) but for your sakes I'll try +to persuade him to alter his decision and refuse it. + +JOHN (_taking her arm_). Come along then--now! I'll go with you to see +fair play. (_He opens the door, L, and_ Mrs. Culver _passes out. Then +stopping in the doorway, to_ Hildegarde) Who did the trick? I say--who +did the trick? + +HILDEGARDE (_nicely_). Pooh! You may be a prefect at school. But here +you're only mamma's wee lamb! (_She drops on to the sofa_.) + +JOHN (_singing triumphantly_). Stay--me--with fla--gons! (_Exit_ John, +_L_.) + +_Enter_ Tranto, _back, shown in by the_ Parlourmaid. + +TRANTO. How d'ye do, Miss Hilda. I'm in a high state of nerves. + +HILDEGARDE (_shaking hands weakly_). We all are. + +TRANTO (_ignoring what she says_). I've come specially to see you. + +HILDEGARDE. But how did you know I should be here--at this time? I'm +supposed to be at the Food Ministry till one o'clock? + +TRANTO. I called for you at the Ministry. + +HILDEGARDE (_leaning forward_). That's quite against the rules. The +rules are made for the moral protection of the women-clerks. + +TRANTO. They told me you'd left early. + +HILDEGARDE. Why did you call? + +TRANTO. Shall I be frank? + +HILDEGARDE. Are you ever? + +TRANTO. I wanted to walk home with you. + +HILDEGARDE. Are you getting frightened about that next article of mine? + +TRANTO. No. I've lost all interest in articles. + +HILDEGARDE. Even in my articles? + +TRANTO. Even in yours. I'm only interested in the writer of your +articles. (_Agitated_.) Miss Hilda, the hour is about to strike. + +HILDEGARDE. What hour? + +TRANTO. Listen, please. Let me explain. The situation is this. Instinct +has got hold of me. When I woke up this morning something inside me +said: 'You must call at the Ministry for that young woman and walk home +with her.' This idea seemed marvellously beautiful to me; it seemed one +of the most enchanting ideas that had ever entered the heart of man. I +thought of nothing else all the morning. When I reached the Ministry and +you'd gone, I felt as if I'd been shot. Then I rushed here. If you +hadn't been at home I don't know what I should have done. My fever has +been growing every moment. Providentially you _are_ here. I give you +fair warning that I'm utterly in the grip of an instinct which is +ridiculously unconventional and which will brook no delay. I repeat, the +hour is about to strike. + +HILDEGARDE (_rousing herself_). Before it actually strikes, I want to +ask a question. + +TRANTO. But that's just what _I_ want to do. + +HILDEGARDE. Please. One moment of your valuable time. + +TRANTO. The whole of my life. + +HILDEGARDE. Last night, why did you advise papa to give way to mamma and +accept the baronetcy? + +TRANTO. Did I? + +HILDEGARDE. It seems so. + +TRANTO. Well--er-- + +HILDEGARDE. You know it's quite against his principles, and against mine +and Johnnie's, not to speak of yours. + +TRANTO. The fact is, you yourself had given me such an account of your +mother's personality that I felt sure she'd win anyhow; and--and--for +reasons of my own, I wished to be on the winning side. No harm in that, +surely. And as regards principles, I have a theory about principles. +Your father was much struck by it when I told him. + +HILDEGARDE. Namely? + +TRANTO. There are no principles in married life. + +HILDEGARDE. Oh, indeed! Well, there may not be any principles in your +married life, but there most positively will be in mine, if I ever have +a married life. And let me tell you that you aren't on the winning side +after all--you're on the losing side. + +TRANTO. How? Has your-- + +HILDEGARDE. Johnnie and I have had a great interview with mamma, and +she's yielded. She's abandoned the baronetcy. In half an hour from now +the baronetcy will have been definitely and finally refused. + +TRANTO. Great Scott! + +HILDEGARDE. You're startled? + +TRANTO. No! After all, I might have foreseen that you'd come out on top. +The day before yesterday your modesty was making you say that your +mother could eat you. I, on the contrary, insisted that you could eat +your mother. Who was right? I ask: who was right? When it really comes +to the point--well, you have a serious talk with your mother, and she +gives in! + +HILDEGARDE (_gloomily_). No! _I_ didn't do it. I tried, and failed. Then +Johnnie tried, and did it without the slightest trouble. A schoolboy! +That's why I'm so upset. + +TRANTO (_shaking his head_). You musn't tell me that, Miss Hilda. Of +course it was you that did it. + +HILDEGARDE (_impatiently; standing up_). But I _do_ tell you. + +TRANTO. Sorry! Sorry! Do be merciful! My feelings about you at this very +moment are so, if I may use the term, unbridled-- + +HILDEGARDE (_with false +gentle calm_). And that's not all. I suppose you haven't by any chance +told father that I'm Sampson Straight? + +TRANTO. Certainly not. + +HILDEGARDE. You're sure? + +TRANTO. Absolutely. + +HILDEGARDE. Well, I'm sorry. + +TRANTO. Why? + +HILDEGARDE (_quietly sarcastic_). Because papa told me you did tell him. +Therefore father is a liar. I don't like being the daughter of a liar. I +hate liars. + +TRANTO. Aren't you rather cutting yourself off from mankind? + +HILDEGARDE (_going straight on_). For the last day or two father had +been giving me such queer little digs every now and then that I began to +suspect he knew who Sampson Straight was. So I asked him right out this +morning--he was in bed--and he had to acknowledge he did know and that +you told him. + +TRANTO. Well, I didn't exactly tell him. He sort of guessed, and +I-- + +HILDEGARDE (_calmly, relentlessly_). You told him. + +TRANTO. No. I merely admitted it. You think I ought to have denied it? + +HILDEGARDE. Of course you ought to have denied it. + +TRANTO. But it was true. + +HILDEGARDE. And if it was? + +TRANTO. If it was true, how could I deny it? You've just said you hate +liars. + +HILDEGARDE (_losing self-control_). Please don't be absurd. + +TRANTO (_a little nettled_). I apologise. + +HILDEGARDE. What for? + +TRANTO. For having put you in the wrong. It's such shocking bad +diplomacy for any man to put any woman in the wrong. + +HILDEGARDE (_angrily_). Man--woman! Man--woman! There you are! It's +always the same with you males. Sex! Sex! Sex! + +TRANTO (_quite conquering his annoyance; persuasively_). But I'm fatally +in love with you. HILDEGARDE. Well, of course there you have the +advantage of me. + +TRANTO. Don't you care a little-- + +HILDEGARDE (_letting herself go_). Why should I care? What have I done +to make you imagine I care? It's quite true that I've saved your +newspaper from an early grave. It was suffering from rickets, spinal +curvature, and softening of the brain; and I've performed a miraculous +cure on it with my articles. I'm Sampson Straight. But that's not enough +for you. You can't keep sentiment out of business. No man ever could. +You'd like Sampson Straight to wear blouses and bracelets for you, and +loll on sofas for you, and generally offer you the glad eye. It's an +insult. And then on the top of all, you go and give the whole show away +to papa, in spite of our understanding; and if papa hadn't been the +greatest dear in the world you might have got me into the most serious +difficulties. + +TRANTO (_equably, after a pause_), I don't think I'll ask myself to stay +for lunch. + +HILDEGARDE. Good morning. + +TRANTO (_near the door_). I suppose I'd better announce that he's died +very suddenly under mysterious circumstances? + +HILDEGARDE. Who? + +TRANTO. Sampson Straight. + +HILDEGARDE. And what about my new article, that you've got in hand? + +TRANTO. It can be a posthumous article, in a black border. + +HILDEGARDE. Indeed! And why shouldn't Sampson Straight transfer his +services to another paper? There are several who'd jump at him. + +TRANTO. I never thought of that. + +HILDEGARDE. Naturally! + +TRANTO. He shall live. + +(_A pause_. Tranto _bows, and exit, back_.) + +(Hildegarde _subsides once more on to the sofa_.) + +_Enter_ Culver, _in his velvet coat, L_. + +CULVER (_softly, with sprightliness_). Hello, Sampson! + +HILDEGARDE. Dad, please don't call me that. + +CULVER. Not when we're alone? Why? + +HILDEGARDE. I--I--Dad, I'm in a fearful state of nerves just now. Lost +my temper and all sorts of calamities. + +CULVER. Really! I'd no idea. I gathered that the interview between you +and your mother had passed quite smoothly. + +HILDEGARDE. Oh! _That!_ + +CULVER. What do you mean--'Oh! _That!_'? + +HILDEGARDE (_standing; in a new, less gloomy tone_). Papa, what are you +doing out of bed? You're very ill. + +CULVER. Well, I'd managed to dress before your mother and Johnnie came. +As soon as they imparted to me the glad tidings that baronetcies were +off I felt so well I decided to come down and thank you for your +successful efforts on behalf of the family well-being. I'm no longer +your father. I'm your brother. + +HILDEGARDE. It was Johnnie did it. + +CULVER. It wasn't--_I_ know. + +HILDEGARDE (_exasperated_). I say it _was!_ (_Apologetically_). So +sorry, dad. (_Kisses him_). Where are they, those two? (_Sits_). +CULVER. Mother and John? Don't know. I fancy somebody called as I came +down. + +HILDEGARDE. Called! Before lunch! Who was it? + +CULVER. Haven't the faintest. + +_Enter_ John, _back_. + +JOHN (_proudly_). I say, good people! New acquaintance of mine! Just +looked in. Met him at the Automobile this morning with Skewes. I was +sure you'd all give your heads to see the old chap, so I asked him to +lunch on the chance. Dashed if he didn't accept! You see we'd been +talking a bit about politics. He's the most celebrated man in London. I +doubt if there's a fellow I admire more in the whole world--or you +either. He's knocked the mater flat already. Between ourselves, I really +asked him because I thought he might influence her on this baronetcy +business. However, that's all off now. What are you staring at? + +CULVER. We're only bursting with curiosity to hear the name of this +paragon of yours. As a general rule I like to know beforehand whom I'm +going to lunch with in my own house. + +JOHN. It's Sampson Straight. + +HILDEGARDE (_springing up_). _Sampson Str_-- + +CULVER (_calmly_). Keep your nerve, Hilda. Keep your nerve. + +JOHN. I thought I wouldn't say anything till he'd actually arrived. He +mightn't have come at all. Then what a fool I should have looked if I'd +told you he _was_ coming! Tranto himself doesn't know him. Tranto +pooh-poohed the idea of me ever meeting him, Tranto did. Well, I've met +him, and he's here. I haven't let on to him that I know Tranto. I'm +going to bring them together and watch them both having the surprise of +their lives. + +CULVER. John, this is a great score for you. I admit I've never been +more interested in meeting anyone. Never! + +_Enter_ Parlourmaid, _back_. + +PARLOURMAID. Miss Starkey, sir. + +CULVER (_cheerfully_). I'll see her soon. (_Pulling himself up suddenly; +in an alarmed, gloomy tone_.) No, no! I can't possibly see her. + + +PARLOURMAID. Miss Starkey says there are several important letters, sir. + +CULVER. No, no! I'm not equal to it. + +HILDEGARDE (_confidentially_). What's wrong, dad? + +CULVER (_to_ Hildegarde). She'll give me notice the minute she knows she +can't call me Sir Arthur. (_Shudders_.) I quail. + +_Enter_ Mrs. Culver _and_ Sampson Straight, _back_. + +(_The_ Parlourmaid _holds the door for them, and then exit_.) + +MRS. CULVER. This is my husband. Arthur, dear--Mr. Sampson Straight. And +this is my little daughter. (Hilda _bows_, John _surveys the scene with +satisfaction_.) + +CULVER (_recovering his equipoise; shaking hands heartily_). Mr. +Straight. Delighted to meet you. I simply cannot tell you how unexpected +this pleasure is. + +STRAIGHT. You're too kind. + +CULVER (_gaily_). I doubt it. I doubt it. + +STRAIGHT. I ought to apologise for coming in like this. But I've been so +charmingly received by Mrs. Culver-- + +MRS. CULVER. You've been so charming about my boy, Mr. Straight. +STRAIGHT. I was so very greatly impressed by your son this morning at +the Club that I couldn't resist the opportunity he gave me of visiting +his home. What I say is: like parents, like child. I'm an old-fashioned +man. + +MRS. CULVER. No one would guess that from your articles in _The Echo_. +Of course they're frightfully clever, but you know I don't quite agree +with all your opinions. + +STRAIGHT. Neither do I. You see--there's always a difference between +what one thinks and what one has to write. + +MRS. CULVER. I'm so glad. (Culver _starts and looks round_.) What is it, +Arthur? + +CULVER. Nothing! I thought I heard the ice cracking. (Hildegarde _begins +to smile_.) + +STRAIGHT (_looking at the floor; simply_). Ice? + +MRS. CULVER. Arthur! + +STRAIGHT. It was still thawing when I came in. As I was saying, I'm an +old-fashioned man. And I'm a provincial--and proud of it. + +MRS. CULVER. But my dear Mr. Straight, really, if you'll excuse me, you +look as if you never left the pavement of Piccadilly. CULVER. Say the +windows of the Turf club, darling. + +STRAIGHT (_serenely_). No. I live very, very quietly on my little place, +and when I feel the need of contact with the great world I run over for +the afternoon to--St. Ives. + +MRS. CULVER. How remarkable! Then that explains how it is you're so +deliciously unspoilt. + +STRAIGHT. Do you mean my face? + +MRS. CULVER. I meant you don't seem at all to realise that you're a very +great celebrity in London; very great indeed. A lion of the first order. + +STRAIGHT (_simply_). Lion? + +CULVER. You're expected to roar, Mr. Straight. + +STRAIGHT. Roar? + +MRS. CULVER. It may interest you to know that my little daughter also +writes articles in _The Echo_. Yes, about war cookery. But of course you +wouldn't notice them. (Hildegarde _moves away_.) I'm afraid +(_apologetically_) your mere presence is making her just a wee bit +nervous. HILDEGARDE (_from a distance, striving to control herself_). +Oh, Mr. Sampson Straight. There's one question I've been longing to ask +you. I always ask it of literary lions--and tigers. + +STRAIGHT. Tigers? + +HILDEGARDE. Do you write best in the morning or do you burn the midnight +oil? + +STRAIGHT. Oil? + +MRS. CULVER. Do sit down, Mr. Straight. (_She goes imploringly to_ +Hildegarde, _who has lost control of herself and is getting a little +hysterical with mirth. Aside to_ Hildegarde.) Hilda! (John, _puzzled and +threatening, also approaches_ Hildegarde.) + +CULVER (_sitting down by_ Straight.) And so, although you prefer a +country life, the lure of London has been too strong for you in the end. + +STRAIGHT. I came to town on business. + +CULVER. Ah! + +STRAIGHT. The fact is, business of the utmost importance. Perhaps I may +be able to interest you in it. + +CULVER. Now we're getting hotter. + +STRAIGHT. Hotter? + +CULVER. Go on, go on, Mr. Straight. + +STRAIGHT. To tell you the truth-- + +CULVER. Always a wise thing to do. + +STRAIGHT. One of my reasons for accepting your son's kind invitation was +that I thought that conceivably you might be willing to help in a great +patriotic scheme of mine. Naturally you show surprise. + +CULVER. Do I? Then I'm expressing myself badly. I'm not in the least +surprised. It is the contrary that would have surprised me. + +STRAIGHT. We may possibly discuss it later. + +CULVER. Later? Why later? Why not at once? I'm full of curiosity. I hate +to let the grass grow under my feet. + +STRAIGHT (_looking at the floor_). Grass? (_With a faint mechanical +laugh_.) Ah yes, I see. Figure of speech. Well, I'm starting a little +limited liability syndicate. + +CULVER. Precisely what I thought. Yes? + +STRAIGHT. The End-the-war Syndicate. + +JOHN (_approaching_). But surely you aren't one of those pacifists, Mr. +Straight! You've always preached fighting it out to a finish. + +STRAIGHT. The object of my syndicate is certainly to fight to a finish, +but to finish in about a week--by means of my little syndicate. + +CULVER. Splendid! But there is one draw-back. New capital issues are +forbidden under the Defence of the Realm Act. + +STRAIGHT. Even when the object is to win the war? + +CULVER. My dear sir, the Treasury would never permit such a thing. + +STRAIGHT. Well, we needn't have a limited company. Perhaps after all it +would be better to keep it quite private. + +CULVER. Oh! It would. And what is the central idea of this charming +syndicate? + +STRAIGHT. The idea is--(_looking round cautiously_)--a new explosive. + +CULVER. Again, precisely what I thought. Your own invention? + +STRAIGHT. No. A friend of mine. It truly is the most marvellous explosive. + +CULVER. I suppose it bangs everything. + +STRAIGHT (_simply_). Oh, it does. A development of trinitrotoluol on new +lines. I needn't say that my interest in the affair is purely patriotic. + +CULVER. Of course. Of course. + +STRAIGHT. I can easily get all the capital I need. + +CULVER. Of course. Of course. + +STRAIGHT. But I'm not in close touch with the official world, and in a +matter of this kind official influence is absolutely essential to +success. Now you _are_ in touch with the official world. I shouldn't ask +you to subscribe, though if you cared to do so there would be no +objection. And I may say that the syndicate can't help making a +tremendous lot of money. When I tell you that the new explosive is +forty-seven times as powerful as trinitrotoluol itself-- + +CULVER. When you tell me that, Mr. Straight, I can only murmur the hope +that you haven't got any of it in your pocket. + +STRAIGHT (_simply_). Oh, no! Please don't be alarmed. But you see the +immense possibilities. You see how this explosive would end the war +practically at once. And you'll understand, of course, that although my +articles in _The Echo_ have apparently caused considerable commotion in +London, and given me a position which I am glad to be able to use for +the service of the Empire, my interest in mere journalism as such has +almost ceased since my friend asked me to be secretary and treasurer of +the syndicate. + +CULVER. And so you're the secretary _and_ treasurer? + +STRAIGHT. Yes. We don't want to have subscribers of less than £100 each. +If you cared to look into the matter--I know you're very busy, but a +mere glance-- + +CULVER. Just so--a mere glance. + +_Enter_ Tranto _excitedly_. + +HILDEGARDE (_nearer the door than the rest_). Again? + +TRANTO (_rather loudly and not specially to_ Hildegarde). Terrible news! +I've just heard and I rushed back to tell you. Sampson Straight has died +very suddenly in Cornwall. Bright's disease. He breathed his last in +his own potato patch. (_Aside to_ Hildegarde, _in response to a gesture +from her_) I'm awfully sorry. The poor fellow simply had to expire. + +MRS. CULVER (_to_ Tranto). Now this just shows how the most absurd +rumours _do_ get abroad! Here _is_ Mr. Sampson Straight. I'm _so_ glad +you've come, because you've always wanted to meet him in the flesh. + +TRANTO (_to_ Straight). Are you Sampson Straight? + +STRAIGHT. I am, sir. + +TRANTO. The Sampson Straight who lives in Cornwall? + +STRAIGHT. Just so. + +TRANTO. Impossible! + +STRAIGHT. Pardon me. One moment. I was told there was a danger of my +being inconvenienced in London by one of these military raids for +rounding up slackers, and as I happen to have a rather youthful +appearance, I took the precaution of bringing with me my +birth-certificate and registration card. (_Produces them_.) + +TRANTO (_glancing at the card_). And it's really you who write those +brilliant articles in _The Echo_? + +STRAIGHT. 'Brilliant'--I won't say. But I do write them. + +TRANTO. Well, this is the most remarkable instance of survival after +death that I ever came across. + +STRAIGHT. I beg your pardon. + +TRANTO. You're dead, my fine fellow. Your place isn't here. You ought to +be in the next world. You're a humbug. + +STRAIGHT (_to_ Mrs. Culver). I'm not quite sure that I understand. Will +you kindly introduce me? + +MRS. CULVER. I'm so sorry. This is Mr. Tranto, proprietor and editor of +_The Echo_--(_apologetically, with an uneasy smile_) a great humourist. + +STRAIGHT (_thunderstruck; aside_). Well, I'm damned! (_His whole +demeanour changes. Nevertheless, while tacitly admitting that he is +found out, he at once resumes his mild calmness. To_ Culver.) I've just +remembered an appointment of vital importance. I'm afraid our little +talk about the syndicate must be adjourned. + +CULVER. I feared you might have to hurry away. + +(Straight _bows as a preliminary to departure_.) + +(John, _deeply humiliated, averts his glance from everybody_.) + +TRANTO. Here! But you can't go off like this. + +STRAIGHT. Why? Have you anything against me? + +TRANTO. Nothing (_casually_) except that you're an impostor. + +STRAIGHT. I fail to see it. + +TRANTO. But haven't you just said that you write those articles in my +paper? + +STRAIGHT. Oh! _That_! Well, of course, if I'd known who you were I +shouldn't have dreamed of saying any such thing. I always try to suit my +talk to my company. + +TRANTO. This time you didn't quite bring it off. + +STRAIGHT. Perhaps I owe you some slight explanation (_looking round +blandly_). + +CULVER. Do you really think so? + +STRAIGHT. The explanation is simplicity itself. (_A sudden impulse_.) +Nothing but that. Put yourselves in my place. I come to London. I hear a +vast deal of chatter about some articles in a paper called _The Echo_ by +some one calling himself 'Sampson Straight.' I also hear that nobody in +London knows who Sampson Straight is. As I happen to _be_ Sampson +Straight, and as I have need of all possible personal prestige for the +success of my purely patriotic mission, it occurs to me--in a flash!--to +assert that I am the author of the famous articles.... Well, what more +natural? + +CULVER. What indeed? + +STRAIGHT (_to_ Tranto). And may I say that I'm the only genuine Sampson +Straight in the United Kingdom, and that in my opinion it was a gross +impertinence on the part of your contributor to steal my name? Why did +you let him do it? + +TRANTO (_beginning reflectively_). Now _I_ hit on that name--not my +contributor. It was when I was down in Cornwall. I caught sight of it in +an old yellow newspaper in an old yellow hotel, and it struck me at once +what a fine signature it would make at the bottom of a slashing article. +By the way, have you ever been in the dock? + +STRAIGHT. Dock? + +TRANTO. I only ask because I seem to remember I saw your splendid name +in a report of the local Assizes. + +STRAIGHT. Assizes? + +TRANTO. A, double s (_pause_) i-z-e-s. + +STRAIGHT. I can afford to be perfectly open. I was--at one period of my +career--in prison, but for a quite respectable crime. Bigamy--with +extenuating circumstances. + +MRS. CULVER (_greatly upset_). Dear, dear! + +STRAIGHT. It might happen to any man. + +CULVER (_looking at_ Mrs. Culver). So it might. + +STRAIGHT. Do you wish to detain me? + +TRANTO. I simply haven't the heart to do it. + +STRAIGHT. Then, ladies and gentlemen, I'll say good morning. + +HILDEGARDE (_stopping_ Straight _near the door as he departs with more +bows_). Good-bye! (_She holds out her hand with a smile_!) And good +luck! + +STRAIGHT (_taking her hand_). Madam, I thank you. You evidently +appreciate the fact that when one lives solely on one's wits, little +mishaps are _bound_ to occur from time to time, and that too much +importance ought not to be attached to them. This is only my third slip, +and I am fifty-five. + +(_Exit, back_.) + +MRS. CULVER (_to_ Hildegarde, _gently surprised_). Darling, surely you +need not have been quite so effusive! + +HILDEGARDE. You see, I thought I owed him something, (_with meaning and +effect_) as it was I who stole his name. + +MRS. CULVER (_utterly puzzled for a moment; then, when she understands, +rushing to_ Hildegarde _and embracing her_). Oh! My wonderful girl! + +JOHN (_feebly and still humiliated_). Stay me with flagons! + +HILDEGARDE (_to her mother_). How nice you are about it, mamma! + +MRS. CULVER. But I'm very proud, my pet. Of course I think you might +have let me into the secret-- + +CULVER. None of us were let into the secret, +Hermione--I mean until comparatively recent times. It was a matter +between Hilda's conscience and her editor. + +MRS. CULVER. Oh! I'm not complaining. I'm so relieved she didn't write +those dreadful cookery articles. + +HILDEGARDE. But do you mean to say you aren't frightfully shocked by my +advanced politics, mamma? + +MRS. CULVER. My child, how naïve you are, after all! A woman is never +shocked, though of course at times it may suit her to pretend to be. +Only men are capable of being shocked. As for your advanced politics, as +you call them, can't you see that it doesn't matter what you write so +long as you are admired by the best people. It isn't views that are +disreputable, it's the persons that hold them. + +CULVER. I hope that's why you so gracefully gave way over the baronetcy, +my dear. + +MRS. CULVER (_continuing to_ Hildegarde). There's just one thing I +should venture to suggest, and that is, that you cease at once to be a +typist and employ one yourself instead. It's most essential that you +should live up to your position. Oh! I'm very proud of you. + +HILDEGARDE. I don't quite know what my position is. According to the +latest news I'm dead. (_Challengingly to_ Tranto.) Mr. Tranto, you're +keeping rather quiet, nearly as quiet as John (John _changes his seat_), +but don't you think you owe me some explanation? Not more than a quarter +of an hour ago in this very room it was distinctly agreed between us +that you would not kill Sampson Straight, and now you rush back in a +sort of homicidal mania. + +MRS. CULVER. Oh! I'd no idea Mr. Tranto had called already this morning! + +HILDEGARDE. Yes. I told him all about everything, and we came to a +definite understanding. + +MRS. CULVER. Oh! + +TRANTO. I'm only too anxious to explain. I killed Sampson for the most +urgent of all possible reasons. The Government is thinking of giving him +a baronetcy? + +CULVER. Not _my_ baronetcy? + +TRANTO. Precisely. + +MRS. CULVER. But this is the most terrible thing I ever heard of. + +TRANTO. It is. I met one of my chaps in the street. He was coming here +to see me. (_To_ Culver.) Your answer was expected this morning. It +didn't arrive. Evidently your notions about titles had got abroad, and +the Government has decided to offer a title to Sampson Straight this +afternoon if you refuse. + +CULVER. But how delightfully stupid of the Government. + +TRANTO. On the contrary it was a really brilliant idea. Sampson Straight +is a great literary celebrity, and he'd look mighty well in the Honours +List. Literature's always a good card to play for Honours. It makes +people think that Cabinet Ministers are educated. + +HILDEGARDE. But I've spent half my time in attacking the Government! + +TRANTO. Do you suppose the Government doesn't know that? In creating you +a baronet (_gazes at her_) it would gain two advantages--it would prove +how broad-minded it is, and it would turn an enemy into a friend. + +HILDEGARDE. But surely the silly Government would make some enquiries +first! + +CULVER. Hilda, do remember what your mother said, and try to live up to +your position. This isn't the Government that makes enquiries. It's the +Government that gets things done. + +TRANTO. You perceive the extreme urgency of the crisis. I had to act +instantly. I did act. I slew the fellow on the spot, and his obituary +will be in my late extra. The danger was awful--greater even than I +realised at the moment, because I didn't know till I got back here that +there was a genuine and highly unscrupulous Sampson Straight floating +about. + +MRS. CULVER. Danger? What danger? + +TRANTO. Danger of the Government falling, dear lady. You see, it's like +this. Assuming that the Government offers a baronetcy to Sampson +Straight, and the offer becomes public property, as it infallibly would, +then there are three alternatives. Either the Government has singled out +for honour a person who doesn't exist at all; or it has sought to turn a +woman (_glancing at_ Hilda) into a male creature; or it is holding up to +public admiration an ex-convict. Choose which theory you like. In any +case the exposure would mean the immediate ruin of any Government. + +HILDEGARDE (_to_ Tranto). I always thought you _wanted_ the Government +to fall. + +CULVER. Good heavens, my gifted child! No enlightened and patriotic +person wants the Government to fall. All enlightened and patriotic +persons want the Government to be afraid of falling. There you have the +whole of war politics in a nut-shell. If the British Government fell the +effect on the Allied cause would be bad, and might be extremely bad. But +that's not the real explanation. The real explanation is that no one +wants the Government to fall because no one wants to step into the +Government's shoes. However, thanks to Tranto's masterly presence of +mind in afflicting Sampson with a disease that kills like prussic acid, +the Government can no longer give Sampson a title, and the danger to the +Government is therefore over. + +TRANTO. Over! I wish it was! Supposing the Government doesn't happen to +see my late extra in time! Supposing the offer of a baronetcy to Sampson +Straight goes forth! The mischief will be done. Worst of all, supposing +the only genuine Sampson Straight hears of it and accepts it! A +baronetcy given to a bigamist! No Government could possibly survive the +exposure. + +MRS. CULVER. Not even if its survival was necessary to the success of +the Allied cause? + +CULVER (_gloomily, shaking his head_). My dear, Tranto is right. This +great country has always insisted first of all, and before anything else +whatever, on the unsullied purity of the domestic life of its public +men. Let a baronetcy be given, or even offered, to a bigamist--and this +great country would not hesitate for one second, not one second. + +TRANTO. The danger still exists. And only one man in this world can +avert it. + +CULVER. You don't mean me, Tranto? + +TRANTO. I understand that you have neither accepted nor refused the +offer. You must accept it instantly. Instantly. + +(_A silence_. John _begins to creep towards the door, back, and_ +Hildegarde _towards the door, L_.) + +MRS. CULVER (_firmly_). John, where are you going? + +JOHN. Anywhere. + +MRS. CULVER. Have you still got that letter to Lord Woking in which +your father accepts the title? + +JOHN. Yes. + +MRS. CULVER. Come here. Let me see it. (_She inspects the envelope of +the letter and returns it to_ John.) Yes, that's right. Now listen to +me. Get a taxi at once and drive to Lord Woking's, and insist on seeing +Lord Woking, and give him that letter with your own hand. Do you +understand? (_Exit_ Hildegarde, _L_.) The stamp will be wasted, but +never mind. Fly! + +JOHN. It's a damned shame. (Mrs. Culver _smiles calmly_.) + +CULVER (_shaking_ John's _flaccid hand_). So it is. But let us remember, +my boy, that you and I are--are doing our bit. (_Pushes him violently +towards the door_.) Get along. (_Exit_ John, _back_.) + +TRANTO (_looking round_). Where's Hildegarde? + +MRS. CULVER. She went in there. + +TRANTO. I must just speak to her. + +(_Exit_ Tranto, _L_.) + +MRS. CULVER (_with a gesture towards the door, L_). There's something +between those two. + +CULVER. I doubt it. (_With a sigh_.) + +MRS. CULVER. What do you mean--you doubt it? + +CULVER. They're probably too close together for there to be anything +between them. + +MRS. CULVER (_shakes her head, smiling sceptically_). The new generation +has no romance. (_In a new tone_.) Arthur, kiss me. + +CULVER. I'm dashed if I do! + +MRS. CULVER. Then I'll kiss you! (_She gives him a long kiss_.) + +(_The lunch gong sounds during the embrace. Startled, they separate_.) + +CULVER. Food! + +MRS. CULVER (_with admiring enthusiasm_). You've behaved splendidly. + +CULVER. Yes, that's what you always say when you've won and I--haven't. +(_She kisses him again_.) + +_Enter the_ Parlourmaid, _back_. + +PARLOURMAID. Miss Starkey is still waiting, sir. + +CULVER. Inexorable creature! I won't--I will not--(_suddenly +remembering that he has nothing to fear from_ Miss Starkey; _gaily_). +Yes, I'll see her. She must lunch with us. May she lunch with us, +Hermione? + +MRS. CULVER (_submissively_). Why, Arthur, _of course!_ (_To_ +Parlourmaid.) Miss Starkey can have Master John's place. Some lunch must +be kept warm for Master John. (_As the_ Parlourmaid _is leaving_.) One +moment--bring up some champagne, please. + +PARLOURMAID. Yes, Madam. + +(_Exit_ Parlourmaid.) + +CULVER. Come along, I'm hungry. (_Leading her towards the door. Then +stopping_.) I say.... Oh well, never mind. + +MRS. CULVER. But what? + +CULVER. You're a staggering woman, that's all. (_Exit_ Culver _and_ Mrs. +Culver, _back_.) + +_Enter_ Hildegarde _and_ Tranto. + +HILDEGARDE (_plaintively, as they enter_). I told you my nerves were all +upset, and yet you ran off before I--before I--and now it's lunch time! + +TRANTO (_facing her suddenly_). Hilda! I now give you my defence. (_He +kisses her_.) + +_Enter_ Culver, _back, in time to interrupt the embrace_. + +CULVER. Excuse me. My wife sent me to ask if you'd lunch, Tranto. I +gather that you _will_. + +CURTAIN. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Title, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12687 *** |