diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/54698-h/54698-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/54698-h/54698-h.htm | 5018 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 5018 deletions
diff --git a/old/54698-h/54698-h.htm b/old/54698-h/54698-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 1d51ff3..0000000 --- a/old/54698-h/54698-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5018 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title>Woodbarrow Farm, by Jerome K. Jerome</title> - <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" /> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:20%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Woodbarrow Farm, by Jerome K. Jerome - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Woodbarrow Farm - Play in Three Acts - -Author: Jerome K. Jerome - -Release Date: May 10, 2017 [EBook #54698] -Last Updated: September 3, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODBARROW FARM *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - WOODBARROW FARM - </h1> - <h3> - Play In Three Acts - </h3> - <h2> - By Jerome K. Jerome - </h2> - <h4> - Samuel French: London - </h4> - <h3> - 1904 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0007.jpg" alt="0007 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> -<h5> - <a href="images/0007.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - -<p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - -<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> -<h5> - <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - -<p> - <br /><br /> - </p> -<hr /> -<p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - - - - - <p> - Piffin......... - </p> - <p> - Allen Rollitt....... - </p> - <p> - Luke Cranbourne..... - </p> - <p> - Mike Stratton....... - </p> - <p> - Mr. Purtwee......... - </p> - <p> - Hon. Tom Gussett.... - </p> - <p> - Baron Von Schnorr... - </p> - <p> - Richard Hanningford - </p> - <p> - Ichabod............. - </p> - <p> - Peters............. - </p> - <p> - Colonel Jack Dexter. - </p> - <p> - Clara Dexter........ - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Rollitt........ - </p> - <p> - Rachael............. - </p> - <p> - Deborah Deacon...... - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> SYNOPSIS OF SCENERY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> WOODBARROW FARM </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ACT I. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> ACT II. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> ACT III. </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - SYNOPSIS OF SCENERY - </h2> - <p> - Act I - </p> - <p> - Woodbarrow Farm, Exmoor - </p> - <p> - Act II - </p> - <p> - 13a, St. James’ Mansions - </p> - <p> - Act III - </p> - <p> - Scene 1—Same as Act II., or Library at 13a, St. James’ Mansion - </p> - <p> - Scene 2—Woodbarrow Farm - </p> - <p> - Time: The Present - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - WOODBARROW FARM - </h1> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - ACT I. - </h2> - <h3> - MUSIC TO OPEN ACT: OLD ENGLISH AIR - </h3> - <p> - SCENE: <i>Kitchen at Woodbarrow Farm. An ideal old farmhouse kitchen. From - the smoke-blackened ceiling beams hang huge sides of bacon, strings of - onions, and herbs, and poultry. Over the great fireplace are the guns, and - in profusion everywhere are the homely furnishings of a prosperous - farmhouse kitchen. A huge fire burns r. in old-fashioned fireplace, with - settle on each side. Door l.c. at back opening on corner of farmyard. - Latticed window looking out on yard to r. of door. Table r.c. piled with - linen waiting to be folded. Linen press l. Door l. below press. Settle in - front of press. Mrs. Rollitt at table r.c. discovered ironing. She folds - up clothes as she finishes with them, and crosses and places them one by - one in press l.</i> - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Rachael! Rachael!! (Crossing l. then crosses to r. at back - of table r.c.) Ah, drat the girls—alius philandering about with the - boys when they’re wanted. Rachael! - </p> - <p> - (Enter Rachael, she comes slowly forward to l.c.) - </p> - <p> - <b>RACH.</b> Did you call, ma’am? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (At table.) Did I call? Why thee be getting deaf in thee - old age sure, Rachael. - </p> - <p> - <b>RACH.</b> I was in the dairy, ma’am. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> In the dairy! Well, and the dairy bean’t a mile off, be it? - I expect there wur Joe’s thick head ’twixt you and the sound of my - voice, warn’t there? - </p> -<p> -<b>RACH.</b> No, ma’am. -</p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Whose wur it, then? - </p> - <p> - <b>RACH.</b> Ichabod’s, ma’am. I—I mean Mr. Ichabod was helping me, - ma’am. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> What at? (<i>Pause.</i>) How often am I to tell ’ee - I won’t have that hulking scamp hanging about here after his work’s done. - Do ’ee understand? - </p> - <p> - <b>RACH.</b> Yes, ma’am. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Here’s getting on for 8 o’clock, and thee master may be - home any minute as hungry as a hunter, poor lad, and noothing ready for - his supper. Get down the ham (<i>Rachael goes to fireplace r.</i>), and - bring me in the frying-pan and I’ll do it myself. - </p> - <p> - <b>RACH.</b> (<i>Turning to go.</i>) Yes, ma’am. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> And don’t be half-an-hour about it. Is Ichabod gone? - </p> - <p> - <b>RACH.</b> Oh yes, ma’am. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Mrs. R. turns to her work, Ichabod appears at door at hack, with a - trout in his hand. Rachael catching sight of him stops, and motions him to - go away.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, a good thing for un as he has, if I catch un here again - to-night, I’ll—(<i>Rachael makes sign to Ichabod who is up c. Mrs. - R. looks at Rachael</i>)—Lord help the lass, be she struck foolish? - Bean’t ’ee agoing? - </p> -<p> -<b>RACH</b>. Yes, ma’am. -</p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Well then, do ut. Thee keeps on saying, “yes, ma’am,” “yes, - ma’am,” and there ’ee sticks. (<i>Drops eyes. Rachael makes sign to - Ichabod. Mrs. Rollitt catches her.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Ichabod does not understand Rachel, and tries to explain to her in - pantomime about the trout, which he holds up and points to. Mrs. Rollitt - follows Rachael’s eyes, and sees Ichabod. Rachael is struck dumb, and - Ichabod grins and pulls his hair.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> If thee don’t take theeself off pretty, soon, my boy, I’ll - do that for un. (<i>He makes no answer but continues pulling his hair and - grinning, making a few steps forward and still holding out the trout. Mrs. - Rollitt advances to him slowly.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Comes c.</i>) How often am I to tell ’ee I won’t - have ’ee loafing about here after thee work’s done, and thee mother - waiting for thee at home, thee good-for-nothing young—(<i>eyeing the - trout</i>)—aye, but he be a bonny un that. - </p> - <p> - <b>ICH.</b> Thowt maybe he’d do for the measter’s supper, ma’am. He wur - a-having his own not half-an-hour agone, ma’am. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>l. with fish in hand.</i>) Her be a three pound un, - Ichabod. - </p> - <p> - <b>ICH.</b> As full as an egg, her be, just. Thee feel her, ma’am. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, well, I won’t say but what thee art a thoughtful lad, - Ichabod, and it will be main good for thee measter’s supper. See there’s a - clear fire. (<i>Crosses r.Enter Deborah from staircase L.</i>) Rachael, - and bring me the stew pan and we’ll boil un. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> No, don’t boil it, aunt. (<i>Takes fish from Mrs. R.</i>) Let - me fry it. Allen alius likes ‘em best that way. (<i>Goes r. c. up stage.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> So un does, lass, so un does. Ah, thee knaw what the lad - loikes, thee shall fry it. (<i>Hands trout to Deb.</i>) And I’ll finish - the linen while I’ve got my hand on it. (<i>At back of table r.c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Allen will like that, I know. Where did you get it? - </p> - <p> - <b>ICH.</b> (<i>Confused and grinning.</i>) What, me, Miss? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Not poached, I hope, Ichabod? - </p> - <p> - <b>ICH.</b> (<i>Offended.</i>) Poached, Miss? No, Miss, I wur trying to - teach a fly of mine to swim, that wur all, Miss, and when I took un from - the water there wur this thing hanging on to the end of un, and I couldn’t - get ‘un off. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>At table r. c.</i>) Thee’d best stop awhile now, - Ichabod, and the girls will gie un a bit sup. Thee mother will be main - glad to be rid o’ ye a bit, I take it. - </p> - <p> - <b>ICH.</b> Thank ye, ma’am. Mother’s alius glad to be rid of me at supper - toime. (<i>To Deborah.) Gie me un, Miss, I’ll clean un for ye. (</i>Takes - fish from Deborah, goes down l. at back of settle.) - </p> - <p> - <b>RACH.</b> Shall I cook un, Miss? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Na, na, thee bring the pan in here, Rachael, I woan’t trust - the master’s supper to ‘ee, while there’s a pair of breeches about the - room. - </p> - <p> - <b>RACH.</b> (<i>Crosses l. with a toss of her head.) I’m sure I don’t - want ‘em there at all. (</i>Picks up buckets near door l. down stage.) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, thee wouldn’t ha’ the lad theer wi’out ‘em! Go and do - as I tell ‘ee. - </p> - <p> - [Rachael hits Ichabod with bucket. Exeunt Rachael and Ichabod l. door down - stage.] - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b><b>MRS. R.</b> The lad will enjoy it all the more if thee - cook it for un. Ah. and he do enjoy his food too. It do me good to see un - eat. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> He does you a lot of good that way, doesn’t he, aunt? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Laughing.‘</i>) Ah, yes, he be like his father wur - before him, a rare trencher man. Ah, but they’re better than those as - doesn’t eat much, but sits a-turning and a-smelling, and a-grumbling at - everything that’s set before them, for all the world like an overfed - turkey cock trying to eat potato peelings. Thee wean’t ha’ much trouble - looking arter un when I’m gone. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Goes to fireplace R.</i>) Oh, aunt, how naughty you are, - always talking of being “gone,” just as if you were an old woman. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> No, no, lass, I bean’t talking of being gone now. I’ve many - a year before me yet, please God. But it must come sometime, thee knaws, - and I like to think that when it do there’ll be someone to gie the lad his - bit of food, and look arter un loike—and, Lord, a man do want a - power of looking arter to be sure. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>At fire R. making it up.</i>) I think that’s why we love - ‘em, aunt, because they’re so helpless. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Cross to l.</i>) Ah, maybe it is. There must be summut - to account for it. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> And I suppose they be like the poultry. They get fond of us - because we feed them. He does say I’ve got a good hand for cooking, aunt. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Cross to r.</i>) Ah, yes, lass. It be a light hand for - the kitchen and a cool hand for the dairy. It will make a good hand for a - farmer’s wife. (<i>Takes Deborah’s hand at table R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> I don’t think Allen will want a farmer’s wife, aunt. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Lord, whose wife should a farmer want, then? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Pokes fire r.</i>) I don’t think Allen wants to be a - farmer at all. He says he wants to be a somebody, not a nobody. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Well, bean’t a farmer somebody? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Somebody, aunt, but not a somebody. Allen wants to be in the - world, you know, aunt. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Well, and he be in the world sure, ain’t he? Sure I think I - ought to know. (<i>Cross to l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> No, not in the world he means, aunt. Not in the great world as - they call it. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah! he be in God’s world, that ought to be big enough for - un. (<i>Cross to r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>A little spitefully.</i>) Yes, aunt, but it’s not select - enough. There’s all sorts of common people in God’s world. Allen wants to - be in the big world of lords and ladies and big folk up in London. He says - it’s being buried alive down here; that he wants to be among the stir and - bustle. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Cross to h., putting clothes in press.</i>) Ah! that be - only his talk. The young uns be all alike. They run arter shadows like the - chickens do arter chaff. (<i>Cross l.</i>) Why, I mind when I wur a lass, - I used to look in the glass and think I’d be a duchess. But the dook - didn’t come, so I just married thee uncle. The young ducks all fancies as - they’ll paddle off to the sea, But they live and dies in the old pond - arter all. (<i>Crosses to R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Laughing.</i>) And you think that your duck will live and - die in the Woodbarrow pond, aunt? (<i>Helps Mrs. Rollitt to fold.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, bless un, yes, the lads they fancy that any place is - better than the old home; but arter they’ve had a good look round, they - know that the old home’s better than any place else. He’ll flutter about a - bit maybe (<i>looks at Deborah</i>), but he’ll settle down in the nest - ‘fore long, and the children will be running about the house (<i>Deborah - turns away a little</i>) and making it untidy—Bless ‘em—afore - I close my eyes. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Demurely.</i>) I wonder who he’ll marry. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, I wonder now. (<i>Crosses to put linen in chest of - drawers.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>r. folding linen.</i>) There’s Polly Steddles. He walked - home from church with her last Sunday. I think he’s a little sweet on - Polly Steddles, don’t you, aunt? - </p> - <p> - (<i>Mrs. R. comes l. of table r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, it bean’t much good being a little sweet on a girl that - size. It would take a power of sweetness to go round her. (<i>Crosses L. - with linen.</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> She’s big, but then men like big women, don’t they, aunt? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>l.</i>) Ah, some on ’em goes in for quantity, - and some on ’em goes in for quality. The little ones, they go in - for size cause they bean’t much of it themselves; and the big ones goes in - for sense, cause that be what they be most in need of. (<i>Goes R.</i>) - And Allen, he be’s medium, so he can just please himself. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> And there’s Miss Dexter, that he drives over to Minehead so - often. (<i>Mrs. Rollitt goes l.</i>) He thinks a lot of her, I know. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>l.</i>) What, Colonel Dexter’s darter, oop at Lucott’s - Hill? Oh, yes, her’d be a fine un to make the butter and cure the hams, - her would. Her be loike them umbrellas they be a selling at Peter’s for - 1s. 11d.—only meant to be walked out wi’. (<i>Near press l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Ah, but she’s so beautiful, aunt, and she’s a lady! (<i>Sighs.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah! (<i>goes to table r. c.</i>) there be a good many sorts - o’ them. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> She is a lady, isn’t she, aunt? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Her’s got the clothes all right. (<i>Sits l. of table r. A - pause—goes up and pats Deborah’s cheek.</i>) - </p> - <p> - As if thee didn’t know the lad were in love with theeself. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Tossing her head.</i>) Sure an’ I don’t see how I should—he - never says anything. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, the men bain’t much to say for their-selves, poor - things. Thee must go by what they does. Why, thee uncle kept company wi’ - me for three years, an’ un never said a word. The first year un only sot - and stared, and the second year un put un’s arm round my waist, and the - third year un kissed me, and then mother said it were time to put up the - banns, and her done it. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Laughs.</i>) Ah, the man that wants to marry me will have - to ask me ever and ever so many times and plead, oh, as if his life - depended on it (<i>tossing her head—at fire.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, the lad be shy, that be all. He be frightened ’o - thee. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Smiling.</i>) Of me, aunt? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, sure!—(<i>Laughs.</i>)—I expect un be - worrying hisself finely for fear thee doan’t care for un, a fancying thee - prefers Jim Harkabuck, maybe. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Demurely—goes up r. and gets l. of Mrs. Rollitt.</i>) - Jim Harkabuck is a very nice fellow, and he does stare. (<i>Smiling, and - going to her aunt.</i>) Do you think Allen really—really does—Aunt? - (<i>Kneels to Mrs. Rollitt, who turns her head away r. a little.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Laughing, and shaking her off playfully. Pauses.</i>) - Does he! Why beant he alius quarreling wi’ thee, and doan’t he eat twice - as much o’ anything if he knows thee cooked it—and besides—(<i>Pauses - and becomes absorbed in stockings.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Besides what, aunt? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Why didn’t I find un only the evening afore last when un - didn’t know I wur there. (<i>Laughing.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Rachael l. door with fish in frying-pan.—Deborah rises.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>RACH.</b> (<i>Crossing r. and giving it to Deborah.</i>) Shall I put it - on, Miss? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>c. goes R. to fireplace.</i>) No, I’ll see to it; Rachael, - thank you. - </p> - <p> - <b>RACH.</b> I have put some butter in the pan, Miss. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Rachael l. down stage.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Yes, aunt. (<i>r. of table and seeing to fish with back to - Mrs. Rollitt.</i>) You—you were saying how you came upon Allen the - other evening, aunt, when he didn’t know you were there, and he was doing - something. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, yes, it wur Toosday, and he—not in love wi’ ’ee—(<i>laughing</i>)—why—(<i>taking - up stocking and looking at hole.</i>) Ah, look at that now, blest if I can - make out where the holes come from, just. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> What was he doing, aunt? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Why there un wur wi’ your— - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Purtwee c.—who coughs.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Turning, and seeing him as he stands in doorway.</i>) - What, Mr. Purtwee! (<i>Deborah in despair goes to fire and cooks fish.</i>) - Well, ’ee do surprise me! ’Ee be quite a stranger. Come in. - Thee be just in time for a bit of sup. - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> (<i>Coming down l. c., puts hat on staircase rail.</i>) I - couldn’t pass the place without looking in, I’ve just left the trap - outside. (<i>Shakes hands.</i>) And how are we? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Oh, I be middlin’ well, thank ’ee, and how’s - yerself? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Oh, nicely enough, and—(<i>To Deborah crossing r.</i>)—how’s - Miss Deborah Deacon? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Very well, thank you, Mr. Purtwee. - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> That’s all right—you look it, my dear (<i>Taking her - hands.</i>) Why I declare she’s getting quite a woman! - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah! she’s been that for some time. Her be thinking more - about getting a man now. (<i>Purtwee crosses to l. c. laughing.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh, aunt! - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Did ’ee see the lad up town? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> What, Allen? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, that be the only lad in the world I know. Did ’ee - see un? (<i>Goes up l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Yes, I met him, and I wanted to have a chat with him. (<i>Mrs. - Rollitt is up l. near linen press.</i>) But, Lord! There he was off to - Lucott’s Hill, and there was no holding him. (<i>Taking off his coat.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Who has been engaged in her cooking, at this suddenly - stops, and looks up.</i>) What was he going up there for? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> (<i>Stopping and facing round.</i>) What for? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Excitedly, but quietly.</i>) Who was he going to see up - there? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> (<i>Laughing and folding coat.</i>) Ah! who is it he always - goes to see up there? - </p> - <p> - (<i>Deborah turns a little sick at this confirmation of her fears. - Purtwee, who is a sharp old fellow, notices the expression of her face and - the whole truth flashes across him. He pauses suddenly, looks hard at her, - then assuming an ordinary laughing tone, continues—Mrs. Rollitt (up - l.) is engaged with the linen, and does not notice this.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Why, the Walleys, of course. He and Jim seem to be - inseparable of late. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh, yes, I know. I asked him to try and see if the Walleys - would part with one of their short-horns. - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Ah! that was it, then—yes, I remember that was it. (<i>Turns - away and looks back at Deborah, who has resumed her cooking—aside.</i>) - Poor child! There’s trouble for her I fear. (<i>Throws coat over chair l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Comes c.</i>) Well, what be going on up at Minehead? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> The same that is going on everywhere, Mrs. Rollitt—people - lying and slandering and evil-speaking; everybody thieving and cheating - and quarreling. (<i>Sits on table l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Well, I guess I could have told thee that. Haven’t thee any - real news to gie us. Tell us what one person’s be a-doing. Never mind - “everybody,” I don’t know him. - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Well, you see, Susan, a lawyer mustn’t gossip. (<i>Shakes - finger.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Deborah crosses to linen press L., sets tablecloth and lays table r. - c. for meal.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>c.</i>) Oh, hoity, toity! What be the use of being a - lawyer and knowing things if ’ee never tells a body a bit o’ news? - And now I come to think of it, I’ve got a bone to pick wi’ thee about that - very thing. Thee never told me old Hanningford wur agoing to die without - leaving my boy so much as a brass farthing. Do you think as how I’d ’a’ - gone on sending the old skinflint the best turkey in the yard every - Christmas, and the best goose come every Michaelmas, if I’d known as how - he’d hadn’t given us so much as the price as a suit o’ black, and Allen - his own cousin’s child. (<i>Crossing R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - A cousin is a cousin, even if it be a distant one. (<i>Sits l. of table r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Now, my dear Mrs. Rollitt, how could I tell he was going to - die? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Thee knowed he wur going to die sometime, and thee knowed - he hadn’t left the boy anything, and thee might a’ dropped me a hint. - “Mrs. Rollitt,” thee might ha’ said, “thee’s only wasting good poultry on - a worthless man. The old sinner’s a going to die as hard-fisted and - ungrateful as he’s lived.” It would ’a’ been a neighbourly act o’ - thee! - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> (<i>Laughing.</i>) But I didn’t know he wasn’t going to - leave you anything. You see he died intestate. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> In——— what? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> (<i>Rises.</i>) Intestate. (<i>Deborah laughs a little.</i>) - Without leaving a will; he left nobody anything. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Rising.</i>) Well, then, where does the old fool’s - money go to? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Why, to his son, of course! (<i>Cross to r. near chair, - fireplace down stage.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, where be his son? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> (<i>Folding his knee in his hand and looking at her quietly.</i>) - On the road from Texas to Devon. (<i>Sits r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> What! Thee don’t mean to say thee’ve found un! (<i>Deborah - gets dish off dresser r. and puts it down in front of firm Mrs. R. in - front of table r., Mrs. R. and Deborah draw near interested.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> That’s just exactly what I do mean. We traced him at last—found - him at Port Chadbourne black as a nigger and dressed as a red Indian. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> What was he doing there—play-acting? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> No, cow-boy. (<i>Mrs. R. sits l. of table r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Lord love us all! and do un know? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Yes, my agent saw him—went down to meet him as he came - through with a drove of cattle, gave him my letters and told him - everything. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Has he written to you? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> No, didn’t know how to write—a sort of half savage he - seems to be, he and all his companions. He said he was going to give the - boys a three days’ drink, or as he expressed it, “paint the town red,” and - then start straight for home. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> When do you expect him? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Any day now; it was six weeks ago my agent saw him. He might - walk into my office to-morrow morning. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Lor! to think o’ it all. Him running away—driven - away, as a body might say, by ’is own father, when scarce more than - a baby, and now coming back to all this money. When do ’ee expect - un? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> To-morrow—in six months time—never! - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Never! (<i>Purtwee rises, crosses to l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Perhaps never. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Why I thought thee said he’d started. - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Started, yes; but there’s a long road between that and - arriving. He may be dead and buried—drowned—murdered—for - all we can tell. They’re a rough lot where he’s coming from. (<i>Takes - coat off settle L. Feels for snuff box in pockets; rises; goes c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Well, thee’s picturing a nice fate for the lad. An’ who - would the money all go to if he were gone? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Why the next o’ kin of course! He isn’t married. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> And who be the next of kin? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> (<i>Dryly.</i>) Oh! there’s no need to worry about that now. - </p> - <p> - Mrs R. Well, I’d just like to know, that’s all. Would it be any of the - Leeds folk? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Oh, I really can’t say! (<i>Gets snuff box, puts coat on - settle l.</i>) I—I can’t say at all who it would be. (<i>Angrily, - rather.</i>) Why there’s about a hundred different relations scattered all - over the country, and goodness knows who it might turn out to be. It isn’t - a matter to be considered yet at all. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Lord bless us all, don’t put theeself out, man. I didn’t - know as a body’s relations wur any secret—(<i>pauses</i>)—provided - they be coom by honestly. Doan’t tell us if ’ee doan’t want to. (<i>Turns - away r. a little.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> No—no, Mrs. Rollitt! I’m not put out, only you see - it’s always a most complicated question a next of kin, especially in a - case of this kind where the man shunned all his relations. It might be - someone in Hong Kong; it might be someone here in Devonshire—(<i>Enter - Allen c. door.</i>)—it might be,—(<i>he is l., taking - handkerchief from his overcoat pocket, and turning sees Allen in doorway - and stops. Deborah puts on the fish.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Coming down r. c.</i>) Well mother! (<i>Kisses her.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Why, my boy, wherever ha’ ye been to—I wur getting - quite anxious about ’ee! - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Taking off his hat and coat and throwing them down at - back.</i>) Ah, I be a rare anxiety to ’ee, baint I, mother? (<i>To - Mr. Purtwee.</i>) Mother alius fancies as I’ve been run off with by - gypsies if I be out more than an hour. (<i>Crossing and shaking hands with - Mr. Purtwee.</i>) And how be Mr. Purtwee for the second time to-day? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> (<i>Laughing and shaking hands.</i>) Ah! your mother’s a - regular old hen with one chick I expect. (<i>Sits l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Never thee mind, mother, thee be quite right to be careful - o’ me! There baint another son like me in the whole country, be there? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>At fire.</i>) To the credit of old Devon be it said. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Halloa! (<i>Goes r. to Deborah.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah! now that just serves thee right for laughing at thee - old mother. (<i>Crosses l. and sits knitting next to Purtwee.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah! that be the worst of letting the children stop oop arter - their proper toime, they allus gets so saucy. What have thee there? Lurd - bust me, I have got a vacuum inside o’ me. Poached eggs? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> No; poached trout. - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> Eh! what’s that? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Hulloa! Thee’ve done it now. Why, Mr. Purtwee be Lord - Netherby’s lawyer, and he’ll ha’ thee hanged in chains on Dunkery Beacon, - sure as fate. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Ah, well, you see I didn’t poach him, I’m only frying him. - There’s no law against frying fish, is there? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>r.c.</i>) Aye, well, us’ll forgive thee this time, if - ee’ll promise to do it again soon. Come and give us a kiss. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Thee’ll kiss the frying-pan if you come any o’ your nonsense - round here. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> What! won’t thee, when I tell ’ee I’ve bought Jim - Whalley’s tan and cream shorthorn for ’ee? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Pleased.</i>) No! Have you? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I bought her this afternoon, and I got her for—(<i>l.c., - turning to his mother</i>) I say, mother, our Deb’s bin and smoshed young - Whalley. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Done what to un. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Smoshed him. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Why, I never touched him. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Yes thee have, thee’ve smoshed un—that be the new - Lunnun word; made un in love wi’ thee. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> It’s a funny way o’ doing it. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I doan’t know how her done it, but her done it. Why he - wanted £25 for the cow at first, and when I told un her wur for Deb he - looked as stupid as an old cow unself and said I could have her for £20, - and then he asked me if she would like a calf. (<i>Goes R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> We could do with one. What did you say? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Laughing.</i>) I told un her’d better let the calf come - down and ask for unself. (<i>Laughs boisterously.</i>) He never saw what I - meant. (<i>All laugh.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh, I expect he saw it all right. Jim Whalley is a very sharp - fellow; there was no need to insult him just because he’d done a kind - action. (<i>Warmly—turns away r. a little.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Oh, I wouldn’t ha’ said it if I’d known. I didn’t know thee - was in love wi’ him. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Half laughing and half indignant.</i>) Oh, don’t be silly, - Allen, as if I cared for Jim Whalley. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I might ha’ guessed it too. Why, I expect that’s why thee - wanted the cow so as to have something about the place to remind thee o’ - un. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh, you great stupid! - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Why, look how you’re blushing. Look, look at her face, - mother. (<i>Goes to back of settle r. takes up looking-glass which is - hanging on settle r., brings it down and holds it before her.</i>) Look at - yourself! (<i>she catches him a sound box on the ear. He puts his hand to - his face, and crossing puts back glass.</i>) I didn’t know thee was so - strong. That all comes of those squab pies o’ yourn, mother, I told thee - thee wur putting too much meat in ‘em. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Laughing.</i>) Ah, it’s thy sauce lad, not my meat, - that’s done it. (<i>Rises.</i>) Thee’d better try and make thy peace, - while me and Mr. Purtwee has a look round the out-buildings. (<i>To Mr. - Purtwee</i>) I’ve been wanting to get hold of thee for a long time. Thee’s - never given us so much as a bit o’ paint for the last ten years, and the - stable roof won’t bear an owl on it. (<i>Goes up c. with Purtwee.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>r. near settle.</i>) Thee might show Mr. Purtwee the - barn floor while thee’s about it, mother. It be more like an earthquake - than a floor. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Oh, I be a going to show him more than he wants to see, - don’t thee worrit. (<i>Aside to Mr. Purtwee at door c.</i>) Ah, they’d - make a pretty couple, wouldn’t they? - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> (<i>Looking at them.</i>) No, no, we must make ’em - one. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Mrs. Rollitt and Mr. Purtwee c. door.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>After a pause, r.c.</i>) Well I’ve got thee the cow, - anyhow, and it’s a beauty. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>At tire in a tone of severe and offended dignity.</i>) - Thank you, Mr. Rollitt, it is very kind of you. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>After a pause, with exaggerated politeness.</i>) Don’t - mention it, Miss Deacon—quite a pleasure! - </p> - <p> - (<i>Allen crosses to l., whistles—a pause—pretends to take off - leggings. Puts foot on settle.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Thee may bring me over the butter. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Looking up.</i>) Hulloa! come back again! Butter, - certainly! (<i>Takes it from chair off l. on staircase, crosses with it, - and holds it for Deborah while she takes some.</i>) Jolly good butter this - week; who made it? Thee? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Other side of plate.</i>) Of course I did! I make all the - butter now, and the cream. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> What, wi’ them little hands. They don’t look big enough to - do anything but be kissed. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Looking up and smiling.</i>) They can do something else, - can’t they? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah! They be like the parson’s, not as soft as they looks. (<i>Puts - down butter on the table—pause—during which Deborah proceeds - with her cooking, and Allen stands watching her.</i>) What a jolly little - farmer’s wife thee’d make. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Yes; I only want the jolly little farmer. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, thee won’t find many of that sort about. Farming don’t - pay enough for a man to get jolly on, now-a-days. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh, we have enough to eat and drink, and a little to spend on - foolishness. You want so much. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Goes l.</i>) Not more than what a many has. Not more - than a little bit of what this young Hanning-ford is coming back to—enough - to let a man see what the world’s like a bit, instead of being cooped oop - all one’s life, like an old cow, in one corner of it. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> But you can’t live all over it, and one corner must be much as - good as another. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Crosses r.</i>) Ah, thee don’t understand it, lass. Thee - women folk can stand day arter day the same, but we lads are restless wi’ - it. We feel as there’s summat big and stirring going on somewhere, and we - long to be among it—to be in the great world. It seems to call to me—(<i>puts - foot on settle L.</i>)—to come to it, sometimes. I hear it of a - night when I’m watching the sheep on the hill fields. Maybe it’s only the - sea breaking on the rocks down by Glenthorn—or the wind among the - old oaks, but it sounds like a distant far-off voice—(<i>gets l. of - table R. with back to Deborah</i>)—calling to me, and it rings and - echoes in my ears, till I feel at times that I must start up then and - there and follow it. (<i>Deborah r. of table r. Allen l. of table r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Very gravely, laying her hand on his arm.</i>) Allen, lad, - don’t you remember reading one evening to us of the sirens, who in the old - days used to haunt the sea caves, and sing so sweetly that the sailors who - once paused to listen, were lured on and on till they were wrecked among - the cruel rocks? May not the voices that you hear be like the singing of - those sirens? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Maybe, lass; but the sailors couldn’t help but follow when - they did hear it. (<i>Sits in chair l. of table R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>After a pause.</i>) What be the matter, Allen? Thee used - to be contented enough. Now thee’s always talking about riches, and - wanting to go away from the dear old farm. Somethin’s come over thee, lad. - (<i>Puts hand on Allen’s shoulder.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> No, I wur allus like an old crow—(<i>Deborah takes her - hand away</i>)—sitting on a fence, and looking at summat too far off - to see. But thee be right partly, lass. Summat has come over me, and made - me want what I can’t get more than ever now. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Very kindly, r.</i>) What be it? (<i>With elbows leaning - on table, R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Rises, goes l. c.</i>) Well, I be in love, lass. (<i>Still - looking away from her.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>After a pause, during which she has smiled to herself with - a happy little sigh, and clasped her hands together in a sort of little - joyful ecstacy, unnoticed by Allen.</i>) In love! - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I fancy it must be that. I think of her all day and I dream - of her all night, and I’m jolly miserable. (<i>At settle, R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Demurely.</i>) Have you any reason to suppose that she - returns your affection? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I don’t know, her’s never said anything. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Have you? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Me! No, I haven’t said anything. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Most extraordinary that she doesn’t propose. Have you given - her any encouragement? (<i>Leans against settle R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Noa—I can’t say as I have, much. (<i>Goes r.c.</i>) - I’ve looked at her, you know—soft like—and sighed. (<i>Does - so.</i>) But her’s mostly been looking t’other way and an’t seen it, and - as for saying anything to her—well, I can talk to her all right - about other things and joke and laugh wi’ her, but the moment I goes to - say I love her—it—it seems as if I’d got a hot potato stuck in - my throat. (<i>Speaking as if she had, turns away to l. corner of r.table, - back to Deborah. His manner throughout this scene carries out the idea - that it is Deborah he is in love with.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>After a pause, with a coquettish smile to herself.</i>) - </p> - <p> - I—I can’t do anything to help thee, I suppose? (<i>Goes and leans - against settle R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Do thee think as her could care for a mere common farmer, - Deborah? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Turning and looking at him earnestly—comes to front - of table R.</i>) Well—I think if he were a good farmer, and pleaded - very hard, I— - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Delighted.</i>) No, lass! Do ’ee really think a - girl could? (<i>Advancing to her.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Putting her hand to stop him with dignity.</i>) A girl - might—though, of course, a superior sort of girl, such as she - appears to be, might think it presumption for—(<i>turns away r.puts - hand on corner of table R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Depressed.</i>) Yes—I’m afraid her would. (<i>Turns - away l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Eagerly turning around again.</i>) Then, of course, she - mightn’t. You never can tell till you try. (<i>Goes to fireplace r. Fish - is changed.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Scratching his head.</i>) Blest if I know how to go - about it! I say, Deb, you’ve been proposed to, how do they begin? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Bending over fire.</i>) Don’t thee think thee’d better - tell me who it is and let me ask her for thee? (<i>Looking slyly round, - pauses.</i>) Who be her, Allen? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Going up to window R.c.</i>) Ah, I expect thee knows who - her be! - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Beginning softly to creep toward him.</i>) How should I - when thee’s never told me? What be her name? (<i>Close to him, his back is - still towards her and he doesn’t see her.</i>) Eh? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Without turning, looking out of the back window up R.c.</i>) - Clara. (<i>Music cue.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Bus. Deb. stands still—for the first moment she hardly - comprehends. Then she understands, and stands staring straight before her - with a wild scared look—shivers, crosses back to fireplace on - tip-toe and bends down over it attending to the fish—after Deb. sobs - Allen comes down c.—music dies away.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Half turning round.</i>) Colonel Dexter’s daughter, you - know. Thee’ve seen her. Her wur at the Barnstaple ball and I danced wi’ - her and thee said how beautiful her wur and that her dress was all made o’ - some’at or other, and you—(<i>he has gradually come close over to - her r.</i>) What be the matter, Deb? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>In a changed, hard tone, bending more intently than ever - over her cooking.</i>) Nothing—Nothing. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Taking her hand.</i>) Why, thee be quite cold, lass; be - thee ill? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Snatching her hand away.</i>) No, no, there’s nothing the - matter with me. Don’t be so foolish, don’t don’t. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Surprised.</i>) I say, Deb, have I said anything I - oughtn’t to? I know I’m allus a-doing it. (<i>A pause—Allen stands - looking at her, troubled and bewildered—Deb. bends closer over the - fire—then takes the pan off the fire and with it in her hand turns - to Allen smiling.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Gives dish to Allen.</i>) Yes, thee have—talking to - a cook at the very moment the trout is on the turn. (<i>Puts trout on - dish.</i>) Serve thee right if I’d spoilt it. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Lor’, thee quite frightened me! (<i>Pauses.</i>) Yes—I - went up there this afternoon. (<i>Deb. takes dish from Allen, puts it down - in front of fireplace.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Arranging fish.</i>) Did you see her? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Yes, I saw her. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> It doesn’t seem to have made thee any more cheerful. Did thee - quarrel. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Us never got a chance. There wur a cousin or summat of the - kind hanging about all the time—just come over with some chap from - America. Can’t say as I like un much. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Thee’d best summon up thy courage and speak quick or thee may - lose thy turn. (<i>Allen turns away L.</i>) Go and tell aunt supper’s - ready—be quick, it’s all spoiling. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Moving quickly towards door l. down stage.</i>) Where - shall I find her? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Sharply.</i>) How should I know? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Looks around surprised—sotto voce.</i>) How the - fire do draw out a woman’s temper, to be sure. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Allen l., down stage.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Left alone stands r.a moment without speaking.</i>) What - right has she to come down here and take him away? She doesn’t love him. - Couldn’t she have found enough fine gentlemen in London to amuse her? I - don’t believe she’s a good woman, and I hate her. (<i>Stamps her foot.</i>) - She shan’t have him—she—(<i>bursts into quiet tears and, - slipping down on ground, buries her face in chair by fire—pause—after - a few seconds Luke Cranbourne appears in door c. front r., Mike Stratton - behind him. Luke pauses on threshold and coughs. Deb. hastily rises, - trying to hide her tears and stands r. Luke comes forward slowly, followed - by Mike at some distance.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>After pause, coming forward r.c.</i>) I—beg pardon—there - was nobody about. Are Mrs. Rollitt and Mr. Rollitt at home? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Yes, they are at home. I will go and find them. (<i>Crosses to - l.</i>) Who shall I say it is? - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>r.c.</i>) Ah, thank you very much, my dear. Would you say - Mr. Cranbourne—Mr. Luke Cranbourne and Mr. Richard Hanningford? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Amazed.</i>) Dick Hanningford! - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Smiling.</i>) You know the name? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Old Mr. Hanningford’s son? Why, we were only speaking of him - just this instant, and wondering when he’d come back. (<i>To Luke - hesitatingly.</i>) Are—are you— - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> No—this is Mr. Hanningford. (<i>Turns to Mike, who - stands awkward and shy l.c. looking at the ground.</i>) Did you know him? - (<i>Laughs.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh, I’m Miss Deacon—Miss Deborah Deacon. We were - school-fellows, you know. (<i>Timidly approaching Mike with outstretched - hand.</i>) I am very glad to see you Mr.—Mr. Hanningford. - </p> - <p> - <b>MIKE.</b> Thank you, Miss—I’m very pleased to see you. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Sitting r.</i>) I suppose you hardly recognize our - friend? (<i>Watches her intently without her noticing it. Mike has turned - away again, and looks down, flicking leg with cane.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Hesitating.</i>) Um! (<i>Laughs.</i>) Well, he’s certainly - altered since we used to go to school together. But yes—(<i>examining - his face</i>)—there’s something of the old face left, I think. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> We only arrived from America last night, traveling hard all - the time. Pretty nearly worked me to death. Dick has—(<i>with a yawn</i>)—but - there, I suppose I should have hurried up pretty smart myself if I’d been - coming home to a fortune. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> You are staying in the village then, I suppose? - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> Yes, we’ve put up at Colonel Dexter’s—my uncle’s—slow - place. (<i>Laughing.</i>) But better than the inn apparently. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh. then you are the—Miss Dexter’s cousin that Allen—(<i>pauses - hesitating</i>)—was—was speaking of? - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> Oh, the young fellow that was there this afternoon—was - that Allen? (<i>With a would-be playful laugh.</i>) And who’s Allen, eh? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>A little stiffly.</i>) Allen is Mr. Rollitt. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> Oh, I wish I’d known that this afternoon. Dick’s been dying - to see him and his mother all day. I wanted him to wait till the morning, - but he would come down to-night. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh, I’m sure Allen and Aunt will both be delighted. (<i>Approaching - Mike, who still stands aside and looks down.</i>) Won’t you be seated, Mr. - Hanningford? (<i>He makes no sign—hesitatingly.</i>) Dick. (<i>Mike - still takes no notice. Luke has risen and crossed with assumed - carelessness, towards him and nozu from opposite side of him to Deborah - gives him a sharp kick. Mike starts and looks up.</i>), - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Turning away carelessly.</i>) Lost in reveries of old - scenes, Dick, eh? Miss Deacon is asking you if you won’t sit down. - </p> - <p> - <b>MIKE.</b> (<i>Sitting L.c.</i>) Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss, I’m sure. - Oh, thank you, I will. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Going.</i>) I shan’t be a minute. They are only somewhere - about the yard. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Deborah c. door l. down stage. Luke goes to door, looks off, - closes door, then goes up to door c., looks off, then closes it. Comes r. - of Mike, who is l.c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>After waiting an instant, and making sure that no one is - about.</i>) Try and keep some of your wits about you, Mike—if you - don’t mind. - </p> - <p> - <b>MIKE.</b> (<i>Sulkily.</i>) I don’t see the darned good of this part of - the trick, so I tell you. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> I’m afraid we shall have a rough time if your memory doesn’t - improve. I’ve explained to you at least half-a-dozen times that it was as - a sort of trial canter that I wanted to come here. If anyone in Devon can - tell who is Dick Hanningford and who isn’t it will be these Rollitts. If - you pass here you pass anywhere. - </p> - <p> - <b>MIKE.</b> Well, it’s the very place I should have avoided, and for the - same reason. The old woman knew Dick Hanningford as well as she knows her - own son, and I’d rather avoid her. - </p> - <p> - Luke, (<i>r.</i>) You’re bound to meet her sooner or later. Better get it - over and know the worst—or the best. (<i>Turns away r. a little.</i>) - Sixteen years make it a little difficult to tell a man, especially between - the age of nine and twenty-five, and you’re like him enough, and always - were. - </p> - <p> - <b>MIKE.</b> And suppose she gets asking questions—do I remember - this, do I remember that—you know what old women are. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> Well, you can’t be expected to remember all the details of - your pinafore days after all this time, and knocking about as you have - been. You know all that is necessary for you to know. You knew the old - man, and you were in the house, and you knew young Hanningford. Besides, - you needn’t recollect anything yourself. You recollect what other people - recollect, that’s all you’re wanted to do. - </p> - <p> - <b>MIKE.</b> (<i>Rising.</i>) I hope we don’t make a mess of it! (<i>Turns - L.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Crossing and laying his hand on Mike’s shoulder, turns - him to c.</i>) We shan’t make a mess of it—don’t you. You know what - it’s for—£100,000 apiece. I’ve done my share of the job—you do - yours. (<i>Turns r.a little.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MIKE.</b> (<i>Turning round and facing him.</i>) Are you sure you did - your share? - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>l.</i>) What do you mean? (<i>Turns c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MIKE.</b> (<i>r.</i>) Are you sure he was dead? - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>After pausing, during which they have looked steadily at - each other, turning away l.</i>) Well, the bullet went in above his ear, - because I examined the wound: and his body went over a two hundred-foot - precipice—that I could also take an affidavit to—only I’d - rather not. (<i>Turning round and facing Mike again.</i>) What makes you - doubt it? - </p> - <p> - <b>MIKE.</b> I don’t know—nothing. The idea occurred to me, that’s - all. (<i>Turns l. a little.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> Don’t you drink so much and you won’t have so many ideas. (<i>After - a pause, during which he seems troubled, shaking it oft with an effort.</i>) - Have you got the letters with you? It will look well to take them out - casually while talking. (<i>Crosses R.; sits on table.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MIKE.</b> (<i>Who has crossed to L., taking them out of his breast - pocket and holding them in his hand.</i>) Yes, here they are all right. - Bah! (<i>With a shudder.</i>) I always see his face when I look on the - darned things—I—Mrs. R. (<i>Without, loudly.</i>) Dick - Hanningford—Dick Hanningford, my boy! (<i>Mike drops suddenly in - sitting posture on sofa L. with a cry “Ah.” Luke works round at back and - drops down l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Mrs. R., excitedly, followed at little distance by Allen and - Deborah from c. Allen and Deborah remain up. Rachel from door down l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Coming down towards Mike.</i>) What, Dick, my boy, - where be thee? (<i>Sees Mike on sofa; making towards him.</i>) Ah, there - thee be—I thought I’d know thee again though thee wur only in - knickerbockers when I last saw ’ee. Tain’t thy fault thy father wur - a bit stingy. Come and gie us a hug, lad. Lord love us—(<i>she is - just in font of him, begins to speak in a bewildered, hesitating manner, - in tones gradually dying away to an awed whisper, as she slowly step by - step backs from him.</i>) How—how you’ve grown—Dick—Dick - Hanningford—what—(<i>stands staring at him; a strange awed - silence prevails</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Advancing in a terrified voice.</i>) Aunt. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Motioning her back with her arm, but not turning and - speaking in a quick, excited, loud tone.</i>) Keep back, child, don’t come - near. (<i>Luke is near Mike down c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Springing forward.</i>) Mother! What’s the matter? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>As before.</i>) The man’s dead. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>r. stepping forward.</i>) Dead! - </p> - <p> - <b>MR. P.</b> (<i>Who has entered c. followed by Ichabod and Rachel l. He - goes quietly up to Mike and lays his hand on his heart, and bends over him - earnestly, and it is a few seconds before he speaks.</i>) Heart disease, I - suppose. (<i>At back of settee l. Gets r.c. of settle.</i>) My letter in - his hand. (<i>Gets to back of settle.</i>) It’s an ill wind that blows - nobody any good. (<i>Turns and feels Mike’s heart once again, then quietly - turns away to Allen. Comes c.</i>) He stood between you and £200,000. You - are now old Hanningford’s heir! - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I! - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Allen! - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>To corpse of Mike—aside as he crosses to back.</i>) - Curse you! - </p> - <h3> - MEDIUM CURTAIN. - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - ACT II. - </h2> - <p> - Scene: <i>Morning room in a handsome flat—a showily furnished room—rather - ostentatious and loud in its decoration and appointments. Large table in - bay window r.upper corner. Fire-place r.Doors at back l.c. and two in l. - wing. Small tables r.and L.. Easy chairs l. and R.</i> - </p> - <p> - <i>Breakfast is laid on large table—it is a gorgeously laid meal—silver - and plate in profusion, and a great number of dishes—tea urn and - coffee urn—a boiling kettle—flowers and ferns in vases and - stands. One, a large wavy one, is at left edge of table close to Allen. - The table in short is crowded and showy to the last degree. A magnificent - footman in gorgeous livery is standing behind; and Mr. Piffin in solemn - black waits close to Allen’s chair, a dish in his hand. Allen is - discovered sitting l. of table, and eating his breakfast in a most - melancholy fashion. He looks intensely miserable and awed. The terrible - solemnity of the whole affair has depressed his spirits to their lowest - ebb. He glances nervously now and then as the meal proceeds, from the - footman to the valet, and vice versa, as they silently and with much - ceremony walk about and wait on him. The fern by his side keeps getting in - his way, tickling and irritating him, but he dare not move it. He eats in - silence, and when he does speak, does so in a humble, deprecating, nervous - manner. He is dressed in a loose morning costume. Music to open Act.</i> - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Standing by Allen’s l. elbow c. Peters r. of table R.</i>) - May I get you a little pâté de foie gras, sir? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Looking round, and speaking in a hushed voice.</i>) I - beg pardon? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> A little pâté de foie gras, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Patty who? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Goose’s liver, sir. I think you will like it. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> No, thanks; I never eats liver. It don’t agree with me. I - will have a bit o’ the bacon though. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> No, sir; it is not dressed that way, sir. I would get used to - it if I were you, sir. You will so often come across it. Peters, just pass - your master the pâté de foie gras. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Peters goes to do so. Allen who has turned again towards his breakfast - is about to take up some gravy from his plate with his knife</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Checks him.</i>) I wouldn’t lap up the gravy with my - knife, sir. I don’t think. It’s never done now in good society, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> It—it’s the best part of it, you know, I alius thinks—the - gravy - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Yes, it’s very tasty, sir. It’s unfortunate it’s so sloppy; - and you see, sir, eating it in that way does not show off the figure to - advantage. Peters, remove your master’s plate. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Peters does so, placing it a few feet beyond Allen’s left hand. Allen - watches it with jealous eyes. Peters then holds the pâté de foie gras to - Allen. He slowly runs his eye up Peters with awe, and then looks at the - pâté de foie gras, then using one hand attempts to take it. Peters, not - moving a muscle, holds it tight. Allen seems surprised, and partly rising, - attempts to take it with both hands.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Coming to his rescue, cutting a piece, and putting it on - his plate.</i>) Allow me, sir. Peters, the brown bread and butter. - </p> - <p> - <b>PET.</b> (<i>Looking for it.</i>) It is not on the table, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> No brown bread and butter; dear me, how remiss! - </p> - <p> - (<i>Crosses l. and rings bell. Peters also crosses l.c. door, Allen looks - cautiously round and sees they are not watching him, and stealthily - reaches over and secures a knifeful of gravy. He is about having a second - and has the knife close to his mouth, when he becomes aware that Piff has - returned and is watching him. He tries to hide the knife out of sight. - Peters has returned with bread and butter.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Severely.</i>) Peters, remove your master’s knife. Don’t - you see that it is in his way? - </p> - <p> - (<i>Peters does so, and then holds the bread and butter to Allen, who - takes a thin slice, folds it up, and holds it in his left hand while - taking the pâté on a fork in his right. He puts first the pâté and then - the bread and butter into his mouth and swallows them.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> I must apologize for serving you your breakfast in here, sir. - Of course, you will not have it in the drawing-room as a rule. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> No, a’ coorse not. No; us alius used to have it in the - kitchen at home. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Yes, sir. Must have been very convenient. But I think I’ll - get you to put up with the breakfast parlour in future, sir—when the - room’s ready. Have you quite finished, sir? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Humbly suggesting.</i>) I think I’d like a little more - o’ that pie. (<i>Looking longingly at pie the other side of table.</i>) - You see, I alius wur a hearty eater. (<i>Said as apology</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Yes, sir, I’m delighted to hear it, sir; but I wouldn’t eat - any more breakfast, sir. You will find it is considered correct among <i>bons - vivants</i> to eat a very sparse dejeuner. My late lamented master, the - Count de Fizziani, never partook of anything but a cup of weak tea and a - little dry toast, and he was one of the oldest families in Europe. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Allen rises, Peters bows as he does so, and Allen returns the bow and - comes dozen R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, I shouldn’t ’a’ thought as anyone could ‘a’ lived - long on that. (<i>He bows</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> No necessity to bow, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> He did it. (<i>Indicating Peters</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> He’s paid for it. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I allus seem to want a good feed myself in the morning. (<i>Takes - out an old clay pipe and prepares to fill it. Goes down r. and sits in - chair. Peters is clearing away the breakfast things</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Are you thinking of smoking, sir? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Yes; I allus has a whiff or two arter breakfast. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> It’s very soothing, sir. My late lamented master, the Count - de Fizziani, used to follow precisely the same course. But I wouldn’t - smoke a pipe, sir. Pipes are going out in good society. (<i>Takes - cigarette case from pocket and offers it to Allen. Takes pipe from Allen - and puts it on corner of table R.c.</i>) I have some cigarettes here, sir, - which I think you will like, sir. These are much more <i>comme il faut</i>, - sir. This case is a present from my late lamented master, the Count. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Allen looks at them and gingerly takes one.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Which end? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Lighting match.</i>) Either end, sir. Allow me. (<i>Showing - matchbox.</i>) Another little souvenir from my late master. He was always - acknowledging, if I may say so, my value to him. That sort of thing is - always done in good society now. (<i>Lights cigarette.</i>) It is a full - flavored one, sir. (<i>Piffin takes Allen’s pipe from table r.c., crossing - with it to window r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Watching him, anxiously.</i>) Don’t hurt him. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Turning round.</i>) I was just going to put it outside on - the window-sill, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> No, don’t put him there. We used to sit up together of a - night watching the sheep. I don’t like the thought of putting him outside - the window, now I’m a gentleman. Drop him in the pocket of that old - shooting coat o’ mine that thee won’t let me wear. They know each other. (<i>Sits - r.and smokes his cigarette. Piff. puts the pipe on table and returns r.c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Noticing that Allen is looking at his cigarette.</i>) All - right, sir? (<i>r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Yes—yes, thank you, Mr. Puffin— - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Piffin, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I wur looking to see if it wur alight, that’s all. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> You will soon get to like them, sir. And whenever you are - ready to dress, sir— - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Surprised.</i>) Dress? Why, I be dressed, bain’t I? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Oh, only for breakfast, you see, sir. I understood you were - going out walking, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Why can’t I walk in these? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Oh, no, sir—all London would laugh at you. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Lord! I should never a’ thought as they’d take so much - notice. (<i>Rising. Piff. crosses to l. near down stage door.</i>) Ah, - well, I’ll dress. (<i>Crossing l.</i>) I don’t want to upset London if I - can help it. I’ll dress. (<i>Exit l. Bows to Piffin as Piffin does so to - him</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> No necessity to bow, sir. (<i>Aside.</i>) Ah, I’ve got a big - job on here! - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Piffin, following Allen l. Piffin immediately returns, having - forgotten the pipe, which he takes. He is recrossing l. as enter Dexter - and Clara, c., preceded by Peters, who takes tray from table R.c. and - exits up L.</i>) - </p> - <p> - And I’ve got to live in the house with this. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Dexter goes c., Clara r. at back.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Coming down.</i>) Good-morning, Piffin, goodmorning. - Having a quiet whiff? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Thank you, sir. My stomach does not permit my indulging in - the luxury of a cutty pipe. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> Is Mr. Rollitt about? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> He has just this minute gone upstairs to dress, sir. I will - let him know you are here, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> No hurry—no hurry at all, Piffin. We are before our - time. You are not looking well, Piffin. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Anxiety, sir. May be anxiety. You see Mr. Rollitt’s - unacquaintance with the manners of the <i>beaux esprits</i> throws much - responsibility on myself. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> But you must be careful, Piffin. What would he do without you? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Smiling.</i>) Well, I’m afraid he would be a little up a - tree, sir, if I may be permitted a vulgarism. (<i>Moving to door l.</i>) I - will go and acquaint him with your arrival, sir. (<i>Takes plate from - table l., puts pipe on it.</i>) I’ll send him to you directly, sir. (<i>Smells - pipe.</i>) Shag! (<i>Exit l.l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> Thank you, Mr. Piffin, thank you. (<i>Turning round.</i>) - Always be affable with your inferiors—never know when you may want - ‘em. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>By window, looking out.</i>) Do you come across many of - that sort? (<i>Comes down r. of table R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> Ah, you beast—you vixen. I wonder you don’t cut yourself - with that tongue of yours. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Turning round with a hard laugh. At fireplace R.</i>) It - must be pretty sharp if it goes through your skin. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> Ah, you damned— - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Allen l. He has on slippers and a smoking coat</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Crossing.</i>) Don’t ’ee look at us too closely. - I bean’t properly dressed yet. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>r.c. turns head away.</i>) I don’t think we had better - look at you at all under those circumstances, Mr. Rollitt. (<i>Laughs.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Laughs.</i>) Oh, I be covered up all right everywhere. I - merely meant as I wasn’t up to fashion plate standard. (<i>Crossing c.</i>) - And how be Colonel Dexter? (<i>Shaking hands.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>l.</i>) Jolly, my boy—and how’s yourself? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>c.</i>) Oh, I be spry enough. (<i>Crossing before him - and shaking hands with Clara, and keeping her hand.</i>) I think us’ll - have a pleasant day. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>r. looking tenderly at him.</i>) I’m sure we shall. (<i>Crosses - to sofa, stands at head of it.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> Well, you young folks will, I know, and the old folks will be - happy looking on. (<i>Sitting, and taking Clara’s hand in his and fondling - it. Allen crosses r.</i>) To see his little girl happy, that’s always - happiness enough for old Jack Dexter. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Leaning over and kissing the top of his hand.</i>) Silly - old dad. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Taking out his handkerchief and pretending to weep.</i>) - Ah, like her mother—like her mother. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>r. c., laughs nervously.</i>) Her—her mother must - ha’ been rare beautiful, mustn’t her? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>c. rising and taking Allen by the hand.</i>) Thank you,—ah, - Mr. Rollitt, you have never known the blessing of a wife—(<i>Clara - looks at him</i>)—you do not understand the feelings of a widower. (<i>Weeping.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> No—but—(<i>laughing</i>)—but—I hopes - to one day; no—no—I don’t mean that—I—(<i>confused</i>)—Have - thee had breakfast? (<i>Clara sits on the soft L.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> Yes, thank you, Allen, my boy. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Cheerfully.</i>) Have another. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> No thanks, not to-day. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> What’s the matter? Off thee feed? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> No, my lad, but we old folks ain’t like you young country ones—nothing - at present thank you—(<i>pauses</i>)—to eat. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Have summat to drink. (<i>Clara crosses l. Both men laugh, - each in his own distinctive way. Dex. turns l. and catches Clara’s face.</i>) - There be some rare old whiskey in the library. Thee’ll find it on the - sideboard—(<i>Dex. goes up c.</i>)—and it be more comfortable - like in there than here. I’ll just go and finish making myself beautiful. - (<i>Crosses to l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Don’t be too long. (<i>Crossing and sitting L.c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Laughing.</i>) No, it oughtn’t to take me long to—(<i>Dex. - has his back to them, wine business at table r.c.</i>)—do that, - ought it? (<i>Goes to l. door down stage. Laughs, and then low to Clara as - he is going.</i>) I am not likely to stop upstairs long when I know thee’s - downstairs. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Go away, go away. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Allen down stage l. Bus. She kisses her hand.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> And I suppose you will go and throw this chance away, like you - have every other. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Well, what if I do? (<i>Rises, crosses it.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> What if you do? What are we to live on? (<i>Goes to Clara l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Gulls, I suppose—as we always have done. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> Yes, and is it pleasant living? Is it pleasant to have to - slave and trick for every dinner? Is it pleasant to be kicked—sooner - or later—out of every society one goes into? (<i>Coming close and - speaking low.</i>) Was it pleasant to be buried for two years in that - God-forsaken hole by Exmoor, not daring to show our heads above ground for - a moment? You’ve got a fine chance of being respectable now. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Too late, I’m afraid, though. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>r. c.</i>) Too late? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Yes—you see, papa, dear, you haven’t exactly brought - me up in that way, and I’m afraid I’m too old to learn now. I don’t think - I should be quite at home as the wife of a piously brought up young man - from the country. (<i>Leans back—laughs.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> And so you’re going to let six thousand a year slip through - your fingers. It’s wicked—it’s wicked. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Laughs—rises.</i>) Well, it hasn’t slipped through - my fingers just at present, it is sticking to them pretty freely. (<i>Crosses - to R.—Dex is c.—toys with ring.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Goes to table r.c.</i>) And how long do you think he will - stand you playing with him? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Oh, a good long while yet. (<i>Goes up.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Puts hat on table r.c.</i>) That’s just where you’re - making a mistake then. He’s not a fool. He’ll want an answer, “Yes,” or - “No,” soon, and what are you going to say then? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Looking out of window.</i>) No. (<i>Looking into - fireplace r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>After a pause—violently.</i>) Luke Cranbourne’s at - the bottom of this. What devil’s game is it that’s going on between you - and him? (<i>Loudly.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> I do wish you wouldn’t drink when you’re coming out - anywhere, it always makes you so noisy. (<i>At glass.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Violently.</i>) Take care, Clara—you seem to forget - I’m your father. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Coldly.</i>) The relationship was none of my seeking. - Whatever responsibility attaches to the unfortunate—(<i>moves near - Dex.</i>)—occurrence is not mine. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>l. making movement as if to strike her.</i>) Clara. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Facing him with quiet contempt—a pause.</i>) Put - down your hands, father. That period of my life is over. (<i>Crosses. Dex. - steps back, then throws himself into chair, leans his head on his arms, - and bursts into tears r.c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Crying.</i>) My own child hates me. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Crossing and laying a hand on his shoulder gently.</i>) - I don’t mean to be hard, father, but you can’t expect much love and duty - from me. Curses and blows were all you ever gave me as a child, and ever - since I became a woman you have merely hawked me about as your decoy. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i> Whimpering.</i>) I only want you to do what’s for your - own good. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Turns away L.</i>) Yes, but you must allow me to be the - judge of that—and come—you haven’t had much cause to grumble - up to now. You’ve been able to be drunk every night for the last three - months. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Rises c.</i>) I ain’t been drunk. (<i>Takes hat off table - r. c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Not for you perhaps—(<i>goes l. a little</i>)—drunk - in the ordinary sense of the word—and I will get you something - to-day if I can. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Drying his eyes.</i>) God bless you, Clara, you’re a good - girl. Do you think you’ll be able to get a twenty? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> You must leave it to me. I’ll get you as much as I can. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Off l.</i>) Thank you, Mr. Puffin. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Off l.</i>) Piffin, Piffin, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Moving away towards door—upper l.</i>) Come into - the next room now. Here’s Allen coming back. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>As he follows her out.</i>) Say you want to help a poor - woman who’s very ill, and has been ordered nourishing food and—(<i>gags.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exeunt Clara and Dex. upper l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Allen and Piff. l. Allen is completely dressed in the height of - walking costume, and is evidently very uncomfortable. Enter Peters c. Pet. - puts photo case on table r. c. Exits down c. Allen has on hat and coat, - and Piff. is carrying his umbrella and gloves. Allen should be got up in a - slightly exaggerated masher style. He is smoking a cigarette.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I carn’t breathe, Mr. Puffin. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Oh, you will soon get used to that, sir. And would you please - to remember my name is Piffin, sir? (<i>Taking his hand.</i>) Why, surely - these are nines, sir, I think we could get them down to eight and a half, - and if I were you, sir, I would show a little more cuff, sir, it’s always - done in good society, sir; besides, it makes the hand look smaller; a - little cuff, sir, goes a long way in good society. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Thank you, Mr. Piffin. (<i>Shakes his hand.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Thank you, sir, but I don’t think you ought to shake hands - with me, sir. And when you do shake hands with your friends, sir—allow - me (<i>takes Allen’s hand</i>) shake high, sir. (<i>Shakes his hand high.</i>) - You’ll see it’s always done in good society, sir. Lord Carmichael’s man - told me he met you yesterday, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I—I don’t know him, do I? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Oh, no, sir, but he knows you, sir, and he was rather - complaining of your walk, sir? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Why, what’s it got to do with him? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Well, sir, knowing as I’m your coach, sir, he meant it as a - friendly hint. You have rather a countrified walk, if you will forgive me - for saying so—a more <i>négligé</i> style is adopted by the <i>savoir - vivre</i> now, sir, and a more <i>insouciant</i> manner of carrying the - umbrella. You walk too much in this way, sir. (<i>Taking up umbrella, - gags, and imitates.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Lord love us, do I walk like that? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Just like that, sir. You see yourself, sir, what a very <i>undestingué</i> - appearance it presents. The present fashionable style is more like this, - sir. (<i>Performing an exaggerated Piccadilly dawdle.</i>) See, sir—body - a little forward—knees stiff—and a slight wobble, sir—very - slight. (<i>Handing Allen the umbrella.</i>) Perhaps, sir, you would take - the umbrella and try it, sir. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Allen attempts the business.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Criticising Allen’s practice. Allen crosses to R.</i>) A - little more bend, sir—a little wobble, sir—umbrella held - lightly between the first and second fingers, sir, (<i>Allen goes l.</i>) - and if you could manage—allow me, sir—. (<i>takes umbrella, - shows him, and returns it</i>) to swing it right round now and then, sir, - it adds great <i>aplomb</i>. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Great what? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> French, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Swings umbrella round awkwardly.</i>) Like that? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Not quite like that, sir. A little more airily, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Swinging it.</i>) Does it ever put anybody’s eye out - behind? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> I don’t think that point is considered of much importance in - good society, sir—that is much better, sir. (<i>Goes r.Allen l.</i>) - If you would practice like that a little every day, sir, you would soon - pick it up, sir. A little more bend, sir, and—er—don’t forget - the wobble. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit l. down stage.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Allen goes on practicing to himself, making as much fun as possible, - consistent with comedy, out of the bus. As he is in the middle of it, - enter Mrs. R.and Deb. door c., the door being opened for them by Peters. - They stand c. staring aghast at Allen, who continues, unconscious of their - presence.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Gags.</i>) Soon pick it up! Strikes me someone’ll have - to pick me up. It puts me in mind of one of our old turkey cocks. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Mrs. R. and Deb. come down stage a little.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Bus. in r. corner of stage. Peters withdraws, grinning.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>After a long pause, clapping her hands.</i>) I know what - it is, aunt. It’s our Allen. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Seeing them.</i>) Mother! (<i>Comes down r.c. Deb. l. c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> My boy! (<i>They rush into each other’s arms c. and Mrs. R. - gives him a huge hug—gets r.of Allen, Deb. l. Then he and Deb. have - an embrace, and then he and Mrs. R. for the second time.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>In the middle of Mrs. R. second hug.</i>) Hold hard! - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Alarmed.</i>) What’s the matter, lad? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Summat’s gone. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> What? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I don’t know; summat behind. (<i>Drawing back r. and looking - down at himself.</i>) Mother, you’ve spoilt me. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, they used to tell me I allus did that, lad. (<i>Laughs.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>After gazing in silent admiration at Allen.</i>) Oh, aunt, - isn’t it lovely? Look at its hat! - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Critically examining his clothes.</i>) Ah—and - there’s some good stuff there, too. (<i>Moving away.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Going near and sniffing.</i>) Oh, oh! Doesn’t it smell - nice—and—oh, look at its collar! (<i>Allen pleased—begins - to plume himself—Deb. begins to laugh.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> What’s the matter with the collar—what are you - laughing at? (<i>Trying to look at his own collar. Debt’s laugh only - grows, and Allen’s indignation begins to rise.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> What’s the matter—what are you laughing at? (<i>Deb. - laughing more and more, goes to walk round him. Turning round, so as to - face her—his collar prevents him turning his head, and he has to - walk round.</i>) What are you up to? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> I want to see it all round. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Very indignantly.</i>) Well then, you can’t do it. I - ain’t a show. What are you laughing at? There’s nothing to laugh at. (<i>Mrs. - R. laughs first time.</i>) It’s your ignorance, because you don’t - understand things. What are you laughing at? - </p> - <p> - (<i>Mrs. R., who has hitherto sat R. looking on, now also begins to laugh, - and she and Deb. go on laughing more and more, Allen growing more and more - indignant.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I am surprised at you, mother. Deb. allus was a—(<i>the - two women only laugh louder, and Allen in spite of himself begins to laugh - too; afterwards he joins in heartily and all three laugh, after which they - have another hug. Bus.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Exhausted.</i>) Well, lad, and how dost thee like being - a gentleman? (<i>Sits r., Deb. sits l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>c. doubtfully.</i>) Well, it’s got its drawbacks, - mother. There’s more work about it than you’d think for, you know,—but - I think I shall be all right, I’ve got a good man learning me. He wur - teaching me to walk this morning. That wus the Park stroll I wur - practicing when you come in; see, mother? (<i>Imitates stroll.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, well, us made a good man of ’ee down in Devon. I - hopes they don’t spoil ’ee, lad, in turning thee into a gentleman. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, no, mother. It’s only a polishing up the outside. I’m - old Exmoor oak—(<i>puts his hat and umbrella on table r. c.</i>)—I - hope, right through, and they can’t hurt that. When did ’ee come - up? (<i>Sits r. c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Only yesterday, and us went to Mrs. Clouter’s and slept, - and then us come on here this morning. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> And how long can you stop? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Well, us must start off to-morrow, some time. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> To-morrow! Oh, nonsense, mother. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Nonsense! Why, bless the lad, thee wouldn’t have me away on - Saturday. Why, who’d pay the wages, and see to everything? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Why, there’s Rogers there, ain’t there? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, why thee might just as well leave the key of the stable - in charge o’ the old bay mare, as trust him to look arter anything, except - his own inside. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>After a pause.</i>) Mother! (<i>Rises, goes to Mrs. R. - r.</i>) What do ye want to go back at all for, and work and worry yourself - to death? Let me take a little house up here in London for thee and Deb, - and then we can all be together. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Aghast.</i>) And leave the farm? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Turning round.</i>) Oh, Allen! - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Why not? You’ve worked hard enough, mother—give the - farm up and enjoy yourself. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Enjoy myself! Away from Woodbarrow - </p> - <p> - Farm! Why, lad, thy father wur born there and brought me home there—and - he died there, and thee wur born there—and there be the pigs and the - poultry! (<i>Begins to cry.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Tenderly patting her.</i>) All right, mother, all right. - Us’ll keep it on. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Wiping her eyes.</i>) And thee might want to come back - to it theeself some day, lad. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Laughing.</i>) Why, thee don’t think I’m going to run - through two hundred thousand, do ye, mother? We Devonshire lads win - fortunes, not lose ‘em. (<i>Crossing c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, no, lad. But thee knows the saying “Roses blossom for a - day, But stout old ivy’s green al-way.” Thee ain’t likely to lose the - money, if thee can help it, lad, but us all be in God’s hands, and I’ll be - easier in my mind if the farm’s there for thee to come home to. If - anything happens, thee knows the way across the Moor, and thee knows how - the latch goes, and me and the lass will be inside to welcome thee. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Goes l. takes Deb.‘s hand.</i>) Ah, I know you will, - mother, both of you. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Music—piano.</i>) Leastways I shall—and the - lass until her gets married, I suppose. (<i>Deb. goes up a little; gets r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Surprised.</i>) Until her gets married? (<i>Deb. goes to - Mrs. R. r.; tries to stop her speaking.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Sharply.</i>) Ah, the lads ain’t all fools. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Evidently troubled.</i>) I never seemed to think o’ - Deb’s getting married, somehow. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Well, other folks have. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I can’t fancy the old farm wi’out Deb. Lord, how lonesome it - would be. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Who has been trying to stop Mrs. R., has come down and - stands by her aunt, l.</i>) Oh, it’s only aunt’s fun. (<i>Goes to Allen, - l. c.</i>) I’m not going to get married. Sure the pigs and cows are worrit - enough wi’ their foolish ways. I don’t want any husband. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, thee will some day, o’ course, and when thee does we - must make thee comfortable, lass. (<i>Taking her hand.</i>) Thee shalt ha’ - the best farm in all the country, and the best dairy, and the best stock. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Little c.</i>) Thank thee, Allen dear. (<i>Turns up stage.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Rising; music dies away.</i>) Well, lass, I suppose us - had better have a clean down and summat to eat, and then see about our bit - o’ shopping. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Lord help us! (<i>Starting.</i>) If I ain’t forgot all about - ‘em. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> All about whom? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Why, Clara—Miss Dexter and her father—they be in - the library waiting for me. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh, don’t let us keep you from them. (<i>A little spitefully.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Oh, I shan’t go out this morning, now. (<i>Gets hat and - umbrella from table r.c.</i>) I shall get them to stop here instead, and - us can have a nice quiet day all together. (<i>Going towards door, lower - l.</i>) Come on, mother. (<i>Crosses to c.</i>) I’ve got a room fitted up - a’purpose for thee and Deb, with a roost just outside the window with a - cock and three hens in it, and he crows all night. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exeunt Allen, Deb., and Mrs. R. down stage.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Baron von Schorr (1) and the Hon. Tom. Gus-sett (2), ushered in - by Peters c. (3). Enter Luke c., and Dexter u. l. (4), afterwards Clara - (5.) Baron goes down l., Gussett r., Luke r. c., Dexter l. c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>l.</i>) Rollitt’s going out. You can’t see him. It’s no - good your coming here to try and fleece him this morning. I tell you he’s - going out. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Coming down r.c.</i>) Ah, we’ll wait and say good-bye to - him, Jack. - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> (<i>l. c.</i>) Ah, greedy Jack,—greedy Jack—you - want de bird all to yourself. Nein—nein, zhare and zhare alike. Herr - Cranbourne have a ving, Tom Gussett, he have de oder ving. You and your - fair daughter have de legs, and I vill have de breast. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> No, you shall have the bones after we’ve done with them. - Make ’em into a stew—keep a German baron for a week. (<i>Others - laugh.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> Ah, Trickey, you here. (<i>Motioning towards Clara and her - father.</i>) Ah, de early birds—de early birds. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Yes, we have to be. (<i>Rises, and goes r.imitating him.</i>) - De worms get up so early nowadays. (<i>Enter Allen lower l. Baron goes to - meet him. Guss. puts him away and he turns up c. Speaks to Dex.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Hullo! Unexpected pleasure! - </p> - <p> - (<i>Luke comes forward and greets Allen c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> (<i>r.</i>) Haven’t seen you for an age, dear boy. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> No. (<i>Goes to Luke r.</i>) I’ve been keeping pretty - respectable of late—I—I mean, you know, I haven’t been going - out much. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>l.</i>) Tom and I are going over to Paris for the - Vincennes meeting, and we’ve come to see if you will join. - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> (<i>l. of Allen r.</i>) Yes, do come; then we can show you - about Paris a bit, you know. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> Ah, yes, and we shall be able to get you into one or two - things in the betting line if you are with us. We can introduce you to - some friends of ours. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, it be very kind of thee, I’m sure. - </p> - <p> - (<i>They go on talking r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> (<i>Aside to the Dexters, back of Clara.</i>) I say, Jack, - my boy, how long have you been Colonel? I did not know you vas a - militaire. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Papa joined the Salvation Army about the same time that you - were raised to the German Peerage. Don’t talk so loud, my dear Baron. - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> Gut, gut. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Luke sits down stage r. with back to audience, looking at betting - book.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> (<i>To Allen r.</i>) Of course we shall take care of your - interests as if it was for ourselves. - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> (<i>Comes and puts arm in Allen’s.</i>) Of course they vill - take care ob your interests for themselves. Come here. (<i>Goes l.</i>) - You know I have been tinking about you so much ob late. Ja! - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, very kind of thee, I’m sure. - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> (<i>l.</i>) Ja, I say to myself, my fren Rollitt—I - always call you my fren—my fren Rollitt, I say, he is a gut fellow—he - has money—all he vants is family. (<i>Guss. goes to Dex. l. c.</i>) - He must marry family. (<i>Dex. goes c. and tries to hear conversation—Baron - notices it and crosses to r.with Allen.</i>) Now, Miss Dexter, she is a - nice girl—ach, such a nice girl—but she has no family. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> No—not yet. (<i>Luke gets near fireplace R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> (<i>r. Seeing it after a while.</i>) Ah, nein, nein—I - do not mean vat you mean—I mean family de oder vay—backvards—dead - uns. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Oh! - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> Ja. Now, dere is my niece, look at her family! Look at her - ancestors—all barons—German barons! And she is such a nice - girl—so beaudiful—so plump—ach, I will indroduce her to - you. She vill mash you—so much. She— - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Mrs. R., Deb. behind her, lower l. door. Seeing the room full - she stands by door hesitatingly.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> (<i>Coming down and interrupting, with a sneering laugh.</i>) - Your nurse, Rollitt, I think. (<i>Comes c. Luke goes to fireplace R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Turns and sees them, and then goes towards them.</i>) - Yes, Mr. Gussett—the best nurse a man can have—my mother. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Guss. confused, but soon recovers himself and laughs it off. Col. D., - Luke, and Clara come forward to greet Mrs. R. and Deb. l. c., and the - customary ceremony, etc., is gone through—all speaking together.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Smiling pleasantly, shakes hands with Mrs. R.</i>) - Good-morning, Mrs. Rollitt. You are looking so well and jolly. How are - you, my dear? (<i>To Deb. Between these two the greeting is really - strained and awkward, although outwardly pleasant enough. Clara kisses - Deb., but Deb. seems to shrink—she turns away. Clara notices this, - and follows Deb. as she turns away up c., with a meaning look. While it - has been going on the greeting between Mrs. R. and Luke has taken place—Mrs. - R. down l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Finishing his introduction of Mrs. R. and Baron.</i>) - The Baron von Schnorr—Mrs. Rollitt, my mother. - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> Your mudder—Oh, impossible. (<i>Goes l. c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Huffy.</i>) I beg your pardon, Mr. Snort. - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> Ach, ja, you are laughing at me—not your mudder. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Clara walks round at back, drops down r. near Luke.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Very indignant.</i>) Yes—his mother. Don’t you - cast any of your nasty foreign insinuations upon me. I’m his lawful - married mother, and his father was his father, and a better man never - lived, as anyone in Exmoor— - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Soothing her.</i>) It’s all right, mother, the Baron - only means it complimentary. Thee’st supposed to look too young to be - anybody’s mother. He has to take (<i>Clara sits r.</i>) thee for my - sister. (<i>Laughing—goes up l. c. with Dex.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> Ja—I take you for his sister. Ach, you English ladies, - you never seem to get more old—you only get more round, more—more - jolly. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Still indignant.</i>) Ah—foolishness. (<i>Ruffling - her dress and sitting very stiff l. on sofa.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> (<i>Sitting on sofa beside her.</i>) It must be de climate - keep you so moist. (<i>Drawing closer.</i>) I knew a man, he lives in your - Manchester, and—(<i>goes on talking to Mrs. R. but is not heard.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Allen goes up and joins Col. Dex. up l. c. and Clara. After a little - while Col. Dex. appropriates him, leaving Clara a little to r.of them - unnoticed. Guss. continues talking to Deb. Deb. evidently bored and - anxious to get away. Guss. trying to be very agreeable. At this point when - all the others are occupied, Luke r. beckons Clara to him and she crosses. - Their conversation is in eager undertone and they watch to see that no one - is noticing them.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> Have you got him to join yet? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> No—he kicks against it. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> If his name isn’t down in the list of directors before Monday - I shall be arrested. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Can’t you get away? - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> No, I’m watched night and day. If he joins, the company will - float and it will be all right. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> I shall be seeing him alone this morning. I will try again. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> And keep to plain gold and diamonds for presents. Those - fallal things (<i>touching her bracelet</i>) are no good. Don’t fetch ten - per cent, of their value. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Part of the conversation between herself and Guss. - Abstractedly, her attention being fixed on Luke and Clara.</i>) Ha, ha! - that was very funny. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Guss. r. with Deb. looks at her in amazement.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Down r.</i>) There’s that milkmaid watching us—don’t - look around, answer as though I had been proposing to you—that will - account for our talking together. (<i>In a louder but still undertone.</i>) - Is there no hope for me? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Down r.—smiling.</i>) None, Luke—please - don’t refer to the subject again. I like you—respect you—will - be a sister to you—but love— - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Grinning.</i>) Yes, it’s that Rollitt that you love. (<i>Deb., - followed by Guss., has moved away to window.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Mr. Cranbourne, you have no right— - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Who has been watching Deb.</i>) Chuck it up, it’s all - right, she’s gone to the window. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> I don’t suppose we’ve deceived her very much, she’s a sharp - little minx. Get these men away. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Clara takes up book, and standing, toys with it up r. front of r.c. - table.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> (<i>Finishing.</i>) She never leave her bed for eighteen - years—she take dree dozes—den she get up and go for a dree - mile walk. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Rising.</i>) Lor! It must have been quite a change for - her. - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> (<i>Rising.</i>) Ja. It vas a miragle. (<i>Turning and - seeing Luke beside him.</i>) Ha, my dear boy, ready? - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Crosses to Baron.</i>) Ready and off. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Coming down c. followed by Dex.</i>) Oh, are you three - going? - </p> - <p> - (<i>Baron goes c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> Yes, I know you’ll be glad to be rid of us. (<i>Laughing.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Well, I have (<i>looking at watch</i>) one or two little - things to do this morning. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Baron goes up c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> Well, look here, Allen, I’m just going to have a quiet weed in - the smoking room till you’re ready. See? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Oh, it be a billiard room now, thee know. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> Oh. have you had a table put up? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Who has just crossed over and joined the group l. to - Mrs. R. who is just about quitting the room by door l. lower.</i>) Do you - allow your little boy to play billiards, Mrs. Rollitt? I don’t think I - should if I had charge of him. (<i>Playfully.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Oh, the more he’s up to every sort o’ game that’s played - the better for him, to my thinking. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Mrs. R. l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Laughing.</i>) Oh, it keeps me at home out of mischief, - like. (<i>Moves to upper door L.</i>) Come and have a look at it. (<i>Goes - up c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>BARON.</b> (<i>As they go.</i>) Ach, billiards iz a beaudiful game. (<i>Aside - to Luke.</i>) But you cannot vin much at id, id take so dam long. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exeunt all but Guss. and Deb. [l.]—all talking as they go. Guss. - and Deb. near fireplace.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>r.</i>) Well, I’m afraid, Mr. Gussett, I must really go - now. (<i>Goes down stage. Guss. goes l. c. and stops her.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> (<i>Getting between her and the door l. to which she is - backing.</i>) Oh, no, don’t go. Do you know, I shall really think you are - trying to avoid me. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Retreating behind table—Guss. takes a step.</i>) Oh, - not at all. - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> (<i>c. gets l. of r. c. table.</i>) Ah, so pleasant to hear - you say so. You know, Miss Deacon, I so want you to like me. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Yes, well—I do very much, only I can’t stop to do it - now, because you see aunt wants me. (<i>Moves c. up stage. Guss. stops - her. Bus. of Deb. trying to get away and of Guss. cutting her off and - trying to get near her; is kept up throughout the scene.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> Ah, but your aunt sees so much of you and I can see so - little. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Laughing, walks l. c. up stage. Guss. at head of sofa.</i>) - I’m afraid there’s not very much more of me to see. I must go really, - because we have got to do some shopping this morning. - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> Ah, let me come with you? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh, no, I won’t tax your kindness. I know you men hate - shopping, and we are going into drapers’ and dressmakers’ and all sorts of - dreadful places, (<i>c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> Ah, they will not be dreadful if you are there, Miss Deacon. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> And aunt always takes such a long time shopping. (<i>Goes up - c.</i>) Never can make up her mind, and I’m worse still, and—(<i>makes - movement, Guss. moves behind settle and stops her down l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> Ah, the longer you take, the better I shall like it. I shall - enjoy coming, I assure you. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Getting more and more cross, comes r.c.</i>) Well you know - I really don’t think you will; and really, Mr. Gussett—(<i>turns r.a - little.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> (<i>Interrupting.</i>) Ah, I know better. No, I quite insist - upon coming. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>With calm, suppressed temper.</i>) Ah, all right, Mr. - Gussett, you shall. (<i>Crossing l. meets Mrs. R. just entering l.</i>) - Aunt, I want you. (<i>Turning her round again.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>l.</i>) Why, whatever’s the— - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> I’ll tell you, come along. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exeunt Mrs. R. and Deb. l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> (<i>r. turns and arranges his moustache in glass over chimney</i>). - Might do worse, Gussy, my boy. (<i>Turns round again.</i>) She’s not a bad - little thing, lick her into shape a bit. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Luke, upper l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Crossing to table and taking up his hat.</i>) Coming? - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> No, dear boy. (<i>Laughing.</i>) Got a little job on. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> Oh, on the war-path? - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> Yes—well, I may as well keep it in hand—Chawbacon - will make her good for a thousand or two, I expect—if nothing better - turns up. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> Ah—wish you luck—she’ll be a good match for you, - I think, Gussy. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Luke c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Mrs. R. and Deb. lower door l. Both are wearing old-fashioned - big country shawls, and big bonnets. Deb. evidently has on one of her - aunt’s. Their dress altogether is as extravagant as comedy will permit, - and has evidently been hastily put on. Deb. also carries a big country - hand-basket covered with a cloth, the neck of a bottle sticking - prominently out, and a huge gamp. Deb. smothering her laughter</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Crossing r.c.</i>) We are quite ready, Mr. Gussett - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Yes, we are quite ready. - </p> - <p> - <b>GUSS.</b> (<i>Who has regarded them with a horrified stare.</i>) Ah, - yes, if you will wait a minute I think I will call a cab. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh, we’d rather walk, thank you—you would rather walk, - wouldn’t you, aunt? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Oh, I’ve made up my mind for a walk. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Yes, we would both rather walk. Will you give your arm to - aunty, Mr. Gussett? (<i>Guss. crosses to c.</i>) And be very careful of - her at the crossings, because she’s rather nervous, and so am I. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>r.c. handing the basket to Guss.</i>) You won’t mind - carrying the basket, will you, Mr. Gussett, because it’s so heavy? (<i>He - takes it bewildered and helpless.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>As Guss., Deb. and Mrs. R. reach door c., enter Allen and Clara l. - upper e.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Hulloa! Where be thee off to? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Down Regent street, and up—Piccadilly, I think you call - it. Good-bye. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exeunt Mrs. R., Deb. and Guss. c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Comes l. laughing.</i>) I should like to be there to see - the Hon. Tom Gussett at the crossings. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Half amused, half cross.</i>) Ah, her be a madcap, her - be, that girl. What makes thee so anxious that I should join the company? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Sitting l. on sofa, Allen stands by her, behind sofa, - leaning over.</i>) Why, don’t you see, poor papa could be secretary if you - joined. They would let you nominate him, and we should be so glad to be - earning something—(<i>very low</i>)—and we are so poor. (<i>Laying - her hand on him.</i>) Do join, Allen, for my sake. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Yielding—back of sofa.</i>) Ah, thee don’t know - how hard thee makes it for me to say no. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Then don’t say it—it would make me so happy. (<i>Looking - up at him.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> It would? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Laying her hand as if unwittingly on his.</i>) - </p> - <p> - And I should think you—(<i>drooping her head.</i>) Ah! I’d better - not say what I should think you. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, well, lass, if you wish it, I will then. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> You will really? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Yes—if it will make thee happy I will. And now let’s - talk about yourself. (<i>Sits l. next to Clara.</i>) Thee is the company I - most wants to join. How have thee been getting on? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Looking down.</i>) Oh, dear! - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> What does “Oh dear” mean? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> “Oh, dear” means very bad. Debts. (<i>With assumed - bewilderment.</i>) Awful! - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Smiling.</i>) What sort of debts? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Oh, all sorts—tradespeople, you know, and all that, - and then I thought I could win a little by betting—(<i>Allen rises</i>)—and - put it all right—and I’ve been and lost. Oh dear! - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Vexed, goes c.</i>) I should ha’ thought there wur - enough fools among us men trying to win money that way. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> I am naughty, I know—but papa leaves everything to me, - and I get so frightened when I see the debts mounting up and nothing to - meet them, and I’ve no one to advise me. (<i>Crosses l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>After a pause, rises, goes to Clara—kindly.</i>) I - didn’t mean to speak unkind, lass. I’m full of old-fashioned notions about - women, I suppose. I like ’em to be women—not mere men in - petticoats. How much does thee owe? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Oh, heaps! (<i>Handing him pocket-book.</i>) Look. (<i>Allen - crosses to R. and sits at table.</i>) And I haven’t any money. (<i>Rising - and looking over his shoulder R., as he examines the book.</i>) Do you - think they’ll put me in prison? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Turns—laughing.</i>) Thee ought to be taken in - charge by somebody, that’s certain. (<i>Allen rises, puts some notes from - his pocket-book into hers, and hands it back to her.</i>) I owe your - father a little over one or two bets. I can take it off that and give him - the rest, like. (<i>Crosses to l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Takes book and lays it on the table—the notes drop - out on to the table.</i>) You are good, Allen, really. (<i>Puts book on - table R.—half to herself.</i>) I wish sometimes that you weren’t—that - you were more like other men I have met. (<i>Turning away r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Why, would thee like me better? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> No, but I should like myself better. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> What do thee mean, lass? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Nothing. I’m not used to your sort of men. (<i>Goes to - fireplace, then up R., throwing off her seriousness and turning towards - him.</i>) You are like the knight, Allen, out of some old legend that - comes and slays the dragon and sets the frightened princess free from all - her trouble. (<i>Laughing.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Goes to table r. Clara r.c. at top of table.</i>) When - art thee going to gie me the right to be thy knight always? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b>.(<i>Sits at table playfully.</i>) Ah, the gallant knights - are apt to turn into grim jailers—(<i>comes l. of r. table</i>)—when - they get the princess into their own castles. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Can’t thee believe me, Clara? Trust me, lass—I’m only - a rough country chap to be asking a beautiful lady like thee to be my - wife. But if I can’t gie thee anything very showy on the outside, it will - make me the more eager alius to keep a loving heart for thee within. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Oh, no. (<i>Sits in chair l. of table.</i>) A lover on his - knees is so much nicer than a lover on your arm. You are so nice, Allen, - as you are, you can’t think. I really couldn’t bring myself to risk a - change. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>c.</i>) It would be a change for thee, Clara—(<i>leans - on table at back of Clara, puts hand on Clara’s chair</i>)—from a - rough and troubled road to one where every stone wur smoothed away from - your path—-where every thorn wur held back as you passed—where, - instead of care for the day and dread for the morrow, thee would feel that - a strong arm wur round thee—that a loving hand wur working out thy - life for thee. Cannot thee risk the change, Clara? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Rises, Allen takes her right hand, turns away R.</i>) - Ah, I suppose there are such lives for some women. It must be very good - when you are tired. (<i>Facing round to L.c.</i>) And you, Allen—women - do not always seem so charming after marriage as they did before. It might - be a risk for you. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> To have the sweetest, noblest woman in the world to be my - wife? I’ll risk that. (<i>Laughs, comes c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Turning away again to R., Allen l.c.</i>) Ah, you boys, - you think all women are angels. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> So they are—a good woman is an angel. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>At Are, facing round and looking at him.</i>) How do you - know I am good? (<i>Very low and serious. Allen drops down c. A pause. He - looks in surprise and inquiry at her, not knowing what to answer.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Hadn’t you better make sure, Allen? (<i>Laughing.</i>) What - do you know of my past—of even my present—of whence I came—what - I am? (<i>Laughs.</i>) Suppose, Allen, suppose I were only an adventuress. - (<i>Takes a step.</i>) A woman with the blood of sharpers and thieves in - her veins—whose nursery was the gambling house—whose school - was the Café and the Boulevards—a woman who earned her daily bread - by shamelessness and cunning—a woman whose past would ever follow - like a shadow the footsteps of her life—whose future must ever be a - darker shadow still. Ah, Allen, take care. Cupid ties a bandage over men’s - eyes. Hymen, when it is too late, plucks it off. Hadn’t you better lift a - corner off the handkerchief, Allen, while we are yet upon the step - without, lest beside your hearth, when the door has shut us in, you cast - it loose, to find I am a stain upon your name—a shadow in your home—a - blight upon your life? (<i>Laughing.</i>) Allen, take care—take - care. (<i>Crosses to l. Allen moves up a trifle.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Recovering from the bewilderment with which he has heard - her.</i>) Ah, it’s well for thee that it is thee, and not anyone else that - talks like this about ’ee. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Ah, but Allen, try and find out a little more about me; it’s - just a whim of mine—I want to feel sure that you know me—just - to please me. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> If I couldn’t trust thee—(<i>takes her hand</i>)—lass, - I shouldn’t love thee. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Crosses to R.c. Allen follows.</i>) Ah, you are a dear - good fellow, Allen, and I won’t tease you any more. And you will join the - company, won’t you? And then you shall get me that dear little diamond - bracelet that we looked at—do you remember it?—and you shall - put it on yourself. (<i>Allen by her side r. All this is said with every - trick of fascination at her command, and now she playfully holds up her - arm, from which the loose sleeve falls back, close to his face.</i>) On - that. (<i>He drops on his knees and kisses her arm</i>). - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Deb. c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Snatches her arm away.</i>) Deborah! (<i>Allen rises.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Turning and seeing her, goes to fireplace R.</i>) Hullo, - thee’s back soon. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Yes, aunt met Mrs. Clouter just outside, so I pleaded a - headache and left them. (<i>Throwing off bonnet and shawl on chair and - coming down.</i>) Don’t you think Col. Dexter would like a game of - billiards, Allen? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> No, he’s all right—he’s smoking. (<i>Crosses l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Oh, I’m sure he’d like a game (<i>Clara motions Allen away</i>), - and I want to have a chat with Miss Dexter. We shan’t see each other after - this morning for goodness knows how long. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Moving away l.</i>) Ah, I understand now. (<i>Goes up - stage l.</i>) I’ll go, and you can tell each other about your new frocks. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Allen l., Clara goes c., Deb. l.c. and Clara look at each other.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>After a pause.</i>) I came back to see you, Miss Dexter, - before you left. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Coldly.</i>) It was very good of you. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> I want to know whether you are playing the fool with Allen, or - whether you mean to marry him. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> I have heard of that sort of question being put to a - gentleman under certain circumstances. (<i>Crosses to L.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> It is put to the person who is supposed to be acting - dishonorably—I put it to you. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> I am afraid I have been mixing things up. I was under the - impression that it was the stout lady, your aunt, that was Mr. Rollitt’s - mother. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> You are very smart, Miss Dexter, and I am not, but this is no - game—it is earnest. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Then I would suggest to you that your cousin is quite - capable of taking care of himself. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Yes, against a man; but not against the woman he loves and - trusts. It is his love that enables you to deceive him. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Crossing to R.—sits on chair near table r.</i>) - You seem to have made up your mind, my dear child, that I am deceiving - him. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>l.c.</i>) I know that he has asked you to become his wife, - and I know that although you have let him think it is all right, you have - never given him a real answer. I know that you accept his attentions, his - invitations, his presents. (<i>Noticing the book and notes on the table, - points to them.</i>) And all the while you are having whispered interviews - and secret meetings with another man. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Coolly counting notes.</i>) If you are thinking of the - conversation you were trying to listen to just now— - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> That is only the latest of many such I have noticed. They - began three months ago, down in Devonshire. I come to London and find the - same thing going on. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Sneering.</i>)’ You really ought to have been a - detective, the force might have been some use then. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> I’m not blind. (<i>Goes c.</i>) Allen is. But that is not all. - These things might be explained by themselves—suspicious though they - are—but just now, going downstairs, I picked up a purse. (<i>Pausing - and looking at Clara, who, however, makes no sign.</i>) It is your purse. - (<i>Throws it into Clara’s lap.</i>) I opened it to see whom it belonged - to—and inside it is a wedding ring. Is your name Dexter or - Cranbourne? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Rising.</i>) I really must decline to answer any - questions of yours. You are so exceedingly rude. (<i>Crosses up behind - table R.c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> You need not answer me. Answer Allen. Tell him that you will - be his wife—or that you cannot. (<i>Clara takes no notice.</i>) Do - you refuse? (<i>Crossing l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> I refuse to be dictated to. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Then I shall communicate my suspicions to Allen. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Turning fiercely.</i>) Do so. Tell him—(<i>walks - round table to back of Deb. c.</i>)—that you believe that I am the - wife of another man, and am playing a shameful part with him merely to - sponge on him. That I am fondling him with the one hand only the better to - pick his pocket with the other. Tell him that you believe he is surrounded - by a gang of adventurers and thieves, of which I am the willing decoy. - Tell him your suspicions, and I will tell him that they are the poisonous - concoctions of a jealous woman—of a woman who loves him herself—(<i>laughs</i>)—and - seeks to win him from her more favored rival, by lies and trickery. (<i>Goes - dozen r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Quietly.</i>) You shall answer him for all that, or he - shall know the reason why you dare not. (<i>Crosses L., and calls.</i>) - Allen! Allen! - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Allen l. up stage</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>l. c.</i>) Allen, is Miss Dexter engaged to be married to - you or not? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>l.</i>) Well. (<i>Laughs.</i>) Blest if I could tell ‘ee - that, Deb. That be the very thing I ha’ been trying to find out myself. - Bain’t it, Clara? Only her be such a tease. (<i>All said laughingly.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Sharply.</i>) You mean you have never been able to get a - plain answer, yes or no? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Gently, lass. Thee be mistaking this for some business of - thine. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Allen, we’ve been like brother and sister all our lives, and - your happiness is my happiness. I have my reasons—very strong - reasons—for asking you to ask Miss Dexter now, before me, whether - she will be your wife. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I can’t say I thank thee, Deb, for interfering in a matter - that don’t concern thee. (<i>To Clara, crossing to her.</i>) I hope, - Clara, you don’t think as I have any hand in this, but as things stand - now, it will perhaps be best (<i>advancing</i>) if I do ask thee. Will - thee be my wife? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Crosses down. Very quietly and deliberately.</i>) Yes! (<i>Stepping - forward and, putting her hand in Allen’s, c. A pause. She then, glancing - first at Deb., draws Allen slowly to her, and they kiss. They cross r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I think now, Deb, that Miss Dexter has a right to know thy - “reasons.” - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> They were mistaken ones, Allen. Please forgive me, both of - you. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Deb. l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Bewildered—looks after Deb.</i>) What does it all - mean? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> I will tell you some time. Never mind now. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, well, us oughtn’t to be angry with her, anyhow, for what - her’s done. (<i>Takes Clara’s hand in his.</i>) Ought us? (<i>Draws her to - him and kisses her forehead</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Disengaging herself gently.</i>) I am going to tell - papa. I am so happy. (<i>Crosses l., looking back to him laughingly.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Clara l. up stage</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>c. after a pause.</i>) Everything I want in the whole - wide world, and three months ago—(<i>Breaks off and pauses his hand - over his eyes.</i>) I wonder if I shall wake up in a minute in the old - farm and find that the £200,000 and Clara have only been dreams. (<i>Rousing - himself.</i>) Ah, no, it be real enough. (<i>Looks round.</i>) Ah, they - call Fortune a fickle jade, but her’s been a firm friend to me. I’ll drink - thee a bumper, Fortune lass. (<i>Turns to table r., On which are wine and - glasses, and pours out a glassful.</i>) I don’t know how much a bumper is, - but I expects it’s about a glassful, and thee shall ha’ it. (<i>Takes - glass in his right hand, and raises it.</i>) Here’s thy jolly good health, - my lass. To Lady Fortune! - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Peters c. upper door, with card on salver.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Lowers glass untouched.</i>) What’s the matter? - </p> - <p> - <b>PETERS.</b> (<i>Coming forward and presenting salver.</i>) A gentleman - to see you, sir. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Takes card, but does not look at it.</i>) He’ll have to - be quick about it then. Send un up. (<i>Footman seems to hesitate. - Sharply.</i>) Send un up. Send un up. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Peters c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - Another of my swell friends, I suppose; they seem to be swarming this—(<i>r. - c. glances at card, his hand holding the glass sinks lower and lower, he - gazes round bewilderingly.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Richard Hanningford c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Reads card in amazed tone.</i>) Richard Hanningford, I saw him lying - dead before my own eyes three months ago! Hann. (<i>At door, raising hat.</i>) - I beg your pardon! (<i>The glass in Allen’s hand overturns</i>). - </p> - <h3> - MEDIUM CURTAIN. - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - ACT III. - </h2> - <p> - Scene I. The library at Allen’s Chambers. Fire l. Doors r.and c. Table - L.c. Big easy chair l. by fire. Peters discovered l. c. arranging and - cutting papers on table and whistling. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Piffin r. Music to open.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Have you seen my cub about? - </p> - <p> - <b>PETERS.</b> (<i>Without looking up.</i>) No, Foxey, I ain’t. Didn’t - know as you had had one. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>c.</i>) You know who I mean—your master. Peters. (<i>Going - to door c.</i>) Not far off from where yours is I suppose. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Peters c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Um! The master has been getting impertinent to me of late, so - the servants seem to be following suit. (<i>Shrugging his shoulders.</i>) - I shall throw this job up when I’ve made another hundred or two. I wonder - how much longer he’s going to keep me waiting. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Piff. c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Allen r. creeping in cautiously in a mysterious and watchful - manner. He has a huge pewter pot in one hand and a large church-warden - clay pipe alight in the other. He looks round stealthily, listens, then - crosses nervously and sits l. in easy chair. He stretches himself out as - luxuriously as his tight clothes will allow—especially the collar. - Takes a long pull at the pot and long puffs at the pipe. In the middle of - each pull, grunts “good” in evident enjoyment.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Chuckling in a deep undertone. Crosses to c. and sits.</i>) - Ah-h-h, I’ve done un this time. He’s waiting upstairs to curl my hair. (<i>Chuckling - again.</i>) Told un I’d come up when (<i>grandly</i>) I’d finished - conducting my correspondence. (<i>Chuckles, pulls at pipe, and takes a - deep draught.</i>) First time I’ve ever enjoyed myself since I came into - my property. (<i>Breaks out into some country ale-house sort of song, - sings, warming as he goes on with great gusto.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Piffin c., unseen by Allen. Piff. comes down and stands c. - looking on. Allen finishes song and then buries his face in the pot. As - his eyes emerge over the brim he catches sight of Piff. He remains looking - at him for a while and then slowly puts the pot on the table.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> What do thee want? Didn’t I tell ’ee I wur going to - conduct my correspondence, and that I didn’t want to be disturbed? - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Goes up table.</i>) I beg pardon, sir, but I thought - maybe you had completed your correspondence, especially as there was only - one letter this morning, and that was a circular about coals. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Oh, did you. Well, I ain’t you see. I’m going to write a lot - of original correspondence this morning, and I’m collecting my thoughts. (<i>Goes - on smoking sulkily.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Yes, sir—certainly, sir—but might I be allowed to - suggest, sir, that a pot of ale and a clay pipe are hardly the <i>dolce - far niente</i> of a <i>grand seigneur</i>. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Hardly the what of my which? Look here, don’t you be so spry - at calling me them jaw-breaking foreign names, because I don’t like it. It - wur only yesterday you alluded to me as a <i>bo-mo</i>, and last week you - said I ought to be in the <i>hot tongs</i>. I didn’t say anything at the - time, but you drop it. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> I referred to you as belonging to the <i>beau monde</i>, sir, - and I may have said your position was now among the <i>haut ton</i>. We - always talk like that in good society, sir. Both expressions were - flattering, very flattering. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, maybe they wur and maybe they wurn’t. Next time, you - call it me in English, and then I can judge for myself. And don’t worrit - me to-day at all. I’ve got a trying morning before me, and I’m going to - have a little quiet enjoyment to set myself up before it begins. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Might I suggest, then, sir, that a cigarette and a little - absinthe would be more <i>de rigueur?</i> My late lamented master the - Count de Fizziani invariably took a little absinthe after breakfast and - found great benefit from it. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Yes, I know. I tried your friend’s cough mixture before, you - know. Old ale’s good enough for me. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> But, sir— - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Don’t you worrit. I’ve been a gentleman for a month; I think - I might have a morning off. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> Very well, sir. Just as you please, of course, sir; but I’ve - my character to consider, sir—and—and—I am not - accustomed to the service of gentlemen with pothouse proclivities. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Sotto voce.</i>) Oh, go and hang yourself. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Up c.</i>) That’s never done now, sir, in good society. - My late lamented master, the Count de Fizziani— - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Springing up, working Piff. round, from table l. to desk - r.</i>) Oh, you go to your late lamented master, the fizzing Count, and - tell him to—I have had eno’ of him and I’ve had eno’ of you. Blest - if I’ve had a happy moment since you came into the house. You’ve dressed - me up like a tailor’s dummy, and curled my hair like a Sunday school kid; - you’ve made me talk like a man in a play, and walk like a monkey on - stilts. Thee’ve chivied me about from morning till night, and thee’ve - rammed that old lamented corpse of yours down my throat every two minutes - of the day. I’ve put up wi’ it all for a long while because I thought thee - meant well, and wur a-trying to make me into a gentleman, but blest if I - think thee knows much more about the genuine article than I does, and I’m - going to go it in my own way now. Look here. (<i>Takes off his tie and - collar and throws them down and jumps on them, pulls off his coat and - throws it in a corner, nifties his hair, unbuttons and throws back his - waistcoat, kicks off his boots, and throws himself into easy chair, sticks - his feet on table, takes long pull from the pot, slams it on table> again, - and commences to smoke his pipe vigorously, looking defiantly at Piff.</i>) - That’s the sort o’ man I’m going to be now. (<i>Sits l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>Who has stood aghast, moving off.</i>) Very well, sir; - then I have only to say that I wash my hands of you entirely. (<i>Pause.</i>) - You can’t make a gentleman out of a pig’s ear. (<i>Sneeringly</i>). - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Puffing quietly at pipe.</i>) No, it ain’t the usual - method. - </p> - <p> - <b>PIFF.</b> (<i>By door c. muttering to himself, but meant to be heard by - Allen.</i>) Only what I might have expected from mixing myself up with - such canaille. (<i>Pauses. Allen takes no notice.</i>) Pray understand, - sir, I give you a week’s warning on the spot. My late master, the— - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Springing up and throwing book at him. Piff. exits r.</i>) - Yes. (<i>Piff. again appears hurriedly at door r. and cries, “Upstart - bumpkin,” and exit quickly.</i>) I’ll give ’ee my toe on the spot - if I hear any more of—(<i>reseats himself, with a grunt of disgust; - a pause, during which he smokes.</i>) He is right, I wurn’t meant for a - gentleman after all. Some of us was built for gaiters, and some on us for - patent leather shoes, and I be one of the gaiter sort—all my tastes - are low. I doan’t like claret and I doan’t like cigarettes. I’m - uncomfortable in a collar (<i>picking his up and fixing it</i>) and I - prefer shove-ha’penny to billiards. (<i>Sighs, continues dreamily.</i>) - Ah, I’d gie a trifle to be going to spend this evening at the Dunkery Arms - a-halping to sing a chorus with old Joe Steddles and young Jem Whalley and - Jack Clouter. Ah, he’d got a fine voice, had old Jack Clouter. Never heard - a man sing so loud in all my life. Lord, I shall never forget her’s doing - “Rock me to sleep, mother,” round at the lodge, and a waking up mother - Hammond’s three kids just as her’d got un all off to sleep. Lord, how her - let us have it. (<i>Laughing.</i>) Ah, us went home early that night. (<i>Chuckling.</i>) - They comed back wi’ me, old Jack and Jim, and Deb made us a veal pasty for - supper. (<i>Smiling.</i>) Ah, her do make good— - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Peters, followed by Purtwee, door c., says, “Mr. Purtwee,” takes - P.‘s hat and exit. Allen rises and commences to pick up his various - articles of apparel and re fix them while talking to Purt.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> (<i>Coming forward.</i>) Well, my boy. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, it does me good to see thee again. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> How are you? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Shakes hands.</i>) Oh, I be all right outside. (<i>Rises, - crosses to L.</i>) Bean’t very spry inside, so I tell ’ee. (<i>Explanatory - of his dressing arrangements.</i>) Just been having a quiet smoke, you - know. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> (<i>With a smile.</i>) And do you always undress to smoke? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Laughing.</i>) No—but I has to now when I want to - sit down comfortable. (<i>Continues to dress—brings wine down to - table.</i>) Have a glass of wine. I’m glad thee’ve come, I wur afraid from - thy letter that thee wouldn’t. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> (<i>Sits in arm-chair l.</i>) Well, it’s a very informal - proceeding I’m bound to say—not at all professional. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Perhaps not, but it’s simple and straightforward like and - maybe that’s as good. Have ’ee read the papers I sent thee? - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> Yes—most carefully—and they certainly make the - story appear very plausible—very plausible, indeed. Have you said - anything to your mother? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> No—no, I thought I wouldn’t say a word to anybody - until I was sure one way or t’other. (<i>Sits L.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> Quite right—quite right. What sort of a man was he? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Blest if I could tell ’ee—I wur that taken - aback I couldn’t tell ’ee what it wur, but thee’ll see him for - theeself in a minute. I told Father Christmas to send him straight up when - he comes. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> (<i>Looking at his watch.</i>) Well, if he’s an impostor, - he’ll hardly venture to come to a meeting of this kind. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Peters announcing Richard Hanningford, door at back.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PET.</b> Mr. Richard Hanningford. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Peters.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> Morning, gentlemen. (<i>Allen goes r.c. Hann. goes c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Good-morning. (<i>Motioning to Purt., who is l.</i>) Mr. - Purtwee, the gentleman I spoke of. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> Good-morning, (<i>c. and then coming r.sits L.c.</i>) Guess - I’m not a particularly welcome visitor here. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>r.</i>) Well, I owns as I’ve come across folks as I’ve - felt more at home wi’. (<i>Allen sits R.</i>) But I suppose we’ve got to - get used to ’ee. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> Well now, gentlemen, we’ve come for business and must not - waste time. Mr. Rollitt has told you who I am, and if you are Richard - Hanningford I shall be only too anxious for you to have your rights. But - then, my dear sir, I shall want to be very sure that you are Richard - Hanningford. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> That’s right and square. I’ve got to prove it, I know, and I - don’t say that it will be an easy job. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> At present you see we have nothing but your bare word for it. - You say this man who called himself Richard Hanningford and who died at - Mrs. Rollitt’s was an impostor. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> And a damned scoundrel. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> Quite so, if he were not Richard Hanningford, he must have - been. But then if he were Richard Hanningford— - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> Why then, I am the damned scoundrel. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> Well—I wasn’t going to say that—but one of you - must be the right Hanningford—and the other the wrong one—and - if we made a mistake three months ago we don’t want to make another now. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>r.</i>) You see it ain’t so much the money I care about. - There was a time that I thought it would be a grand thing to be rich, but - now I’ve tried it, danged if I see so much fun in it as I thought there - wur. (<i>Rises.</i>) It ain’t only that: it’s the girl I love—if I - lose the money, I loses her. I can’t expect her to have me wi’out it. - She’s a lady—I’m only a country bumpkin and I know it. With this - money I can win her and make her life happy—even if she doesn’t much - care for me. If I were sure you were Dick Hanningford, I’d gie it up. But - I ain’t sure and I’m going to fight—that’s plain. (<i>Turns and - crosses r. Sits R.c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>Coes to Allen r.c.</i>) Plain and sensible, and I don’t - like you any the less for it; but I am Dick Hanningford, and the money’s - mine, and I’m going to have a good fight to get it. (<i>Coes l. puts foot - on chair.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> (<i>After a pause.</i>) You say this man who tried to—and, - as he thought, did—murder you—had been a friend of yours. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>Fiercely—takes foot off chair.</i>) He’d been my - chum for over two years—the cur—and knew everything about me—I - saved his life when the gang were going to hang him—he shared my - diggings when we were in the mining lay, and he had half my blanket every - night when we were with the cattle. And I trusted him—the skunk. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> What was his name? - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> Cassidy—Dan Cassidy. (<i>Sits again.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> And then he murdered you—or tried to as you say—took - your papers from you, and came over here to impersonate you? - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> I suppose so. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> He was uncommonly like you, too. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> Like me! Not at all! - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> Oh, yes, my dear sir, I never saw him alive, but his features - were yours one for one. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> Dan Cassidy was no more like me than I’m like a colored angel - out of a picture book. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Purt. and Allen exchange glances.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Well, all I know is, that if the man who called himself - Richard Hanningford, and who fell down dead in my mother’s kitchen three - months ago was standing beside you now, nobody would know which wur you - and which wur him. . - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>Rising.</i>) I don’t know that man! (<i>All rise and look - at one another.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Peters c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> (<i>Pause.</i>) Then what has become of Dan Cassidy? - </p> - <p> - <b>PETERS.</b> Mr. Luke Cranbourne is downstairs, sir, and would like to - see you. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Oh, bother Luke Cranbourne—tell him I’m out. - </p> - <p> - <b>PETERS.</b> Yes, sir. (<i>Going. As he is by door.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Stop! (<i>Peters turns.</i>) Ask Mr. Cranbourne to come back - in a quarter of an hour. (<i>Looks at watch.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PETERS.</b> Yes, sir. (<i>Exit c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> What sort of a man was Dan Cassidy? - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> A pale, dark-eyed man with a long black beard. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Would you know him again without the black beard, and under - another name? - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>Fiercely.</i>) Know him! Will you bring me face to face - with him? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Maybe I will. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>c.</i>) See here! I’ve lived among a set that like to - wipe off a score, no matter what the price. You put that man into my hands - so that justice may be done on him, and we share the old man’s money - between us. (<i>Crosses R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Is that a bargain? - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> You don’t suspect—(<i>goes to r.of l. table.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Crosses to Purt. Hann. goes R.</i>) Yes I do. He’s been - no friend of mine. Is it a bargain? - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> Yes. Without Dan Cassidy my case might be hard to prove. With - him it would be easy. £100,000 and my revenge are good enough for me. You - give me that. (<i>Goes to extreme R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Dexter from door c. He draws back on seeing strangers, and - stands r.c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> Beg pardon, my dear boy. Found the door open (<i>Allen goes up - c. to Dex.</i>) and took the liberty of an old friend to walk in. Thought - I should find you alone. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Crosses up c.</i>) Shall be in a minute, Colonel, if you - will excuse me. (<i>Draws the two men together near fireplace, Allen - nearest, Purt. next, Hann. r.</i>) Can thee play billiards? - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> I can, but I don’t crave for them at this particular moment. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> You’ll just have time to play fifty up afore the man as I - takes to be Dan Cassidy is here. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> How will you let us know? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Looks round thinking, then catches sight of glasses on - table l.; takes one up and holds it over hearth.</i>) Keep thee, ears - open, and when thee hears this glass fall and break, open the door and - come in. (<i>All go up c. speaking low.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Purt. and Hann. Dex. goes L.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Returning c.</i>) Well, Colonel Dexter, what do thee - want? Glad to see thee, thee know. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>l.c.</i>) Nothing, dear boy—nothing for myself. I - have only brought a letter from my little girl, and am to take back an - answer. (<i>Produces letter and hands to Allen.</i>) I’m only Cupid to you - young folks. Ha! Hat Only Cupid. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, they usen’t to wrap ’em up so much when I wur - young. (<i>Crosses R., opens and reads letter.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Who is very much wrapped and buttoned up, laughs with much - ostentation.</i>) Ha! Ha! Very good, very good. We really must bring you - out more, Allen. Ha! Ha! Ha! - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Who has sat r.in front of desk, reading.</i>) “My - darling Popsy-wopsy.” (<i>Looks up puzzled and round at Dex. Aside.</i>) - That ain’t Clara’s usual style. (<i>Reads.</i>) “I am so terribly sorry to - worry my own darling boy, but I am in such fearful trouble—I want - £100 to pay some debts owing to a wicked man having cheated us. Would my - own darling lend it to his broken-hearted little blossom, and don’t say - anything to me afterwards until I pay you back, as I shall be so ashamed - of it. I send papa with this. He knows nothing about it, so please don’t - tell him—he is so proud.—(<i>Allen looks at Dex., who turns - away and tries to assume airy unconsciousness</i>)—and would be so - angry with me, but you are the only friend I have. Oh, my darling, do let - me have the money or I shall go mad. A million, million kisses to my own - sweet, precious lubby-dubby from his ever loving little birdie, Clara.” (<i>Dex. - sits c.</i>) “P. S.—Please don’t cross the cheque.” - </p> - <p> - (<i>Takes cheque-book from desk and begins to write.</i>) Was Clara ill - when she wrote this? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Who is sitting at table L.c. having wine.</i>) No, my dear - boy—oh, no. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Oh, because the writing seems a bit shaky like, and the - letter so funny—thought maybe she wur a bit queer. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Confused.</i>) Oh—ah—yes. She was a little - queer—very shaky indeed—and she seemed very much worried, too, - she wouldn’t tell me what about. She tries to keep all her trouble away - from her old father, dear child. (<i>Enter Clara unseen by either.</i>) - Ah, I know how anxiously she’s waiting for me now. “Come back soon, dear, - dear papa,” she said—“and bring it with you.” (<i>Crying r.c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Allen having put the cheque in an envelope rises and crosses and holds - it to Dex. Clara steps forward and takes it.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Thank you! (<i>c. of the two men.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Miss Dexter! - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> Clara! - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> This letter is addressed to me, I believe. (<i>Opens it and - takes out cheque, which she returns to Allen.</i>) It’s very kind of you, - Mr. Rollitt, but I do not require it. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>r.</i>) Didn’t thee write for it? (<i>Showing letter to - her.</i>) Isn’t this thy letter? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Looking at it.</i>) It is the first time I have seen it. - It has the appearance of having been written by someone who was drunk over - night—possibly my father—imitating other people’s handwriting - is one of the few things at which he has attained eminence. (<i>Looks at - Dex.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> Clara, my dear! - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> And perhaps it will be better, Mr. Rollitt, for me to take - this opportunity of ending our relationship by telling you that I am - already married. (<i>Crosses l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Starts hack.</i>) Married! - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>c. frantic and jumping about and screaming and hissing the - words out.</i>) She ain’t. It’s a lie. Don’t believe her. She ain’t. She - ain’t. (<i>Goes c. Clara to l.</i>) It’s only a trick to try your love. - Ah, you hussy! It’s all been planned. This is all part of it. She ain’t - married. We planned it to test your love for her. Ah, you beast! I’ll - strangle you. I’ll murder you. She’s only trying it on to see what you - say. It’s a trick. Don’t believe her. Don’t believe her. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> And have been for the last three years. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>As before.</i>) No, she ain’t been, Mr. Rollitt. It’s a - lie—it’s a lie. It’s a lie. She says it to spite her old father. Ah - you devil, you— - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Silence! - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Cowed, but continuing in nervous undertone.</i>) She’s not - married. I’m her father. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Pointing to door c.</i>) And leave the room—afore - I forget thee art an old man. (<i>Turns him r.Backs Dex. up to c. door.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEX.</b> (<i>Slinks out muttering.</i>) She ain’t married! It’s a lie. - It’s a lie. (<i>Repeats</i>.) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit Dex. c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Turning to Clara.</i>) What does it all mean? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Defiantly.</i>) That I’ve been playing with you only for - the sake of sponging on you. And to get money out of you for my father and - husband—I haven’t had much myself—and that at last I’m grown - tired of it. (<i>Crosses R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>l.c. after a pause.</i>) Thee might have had all the - money thee wanted, lass, wi’out deceiving me. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Falling on her knees before him.</i>) Forgive me, Allen, - you don’t know what my life has been. Dragged up among thieves and - sharpers, taught to trick and lie before I could speak plainly, I have - never know what truth and honor meant except as a dim longing. All the - humanity—all the womanhood—has been dried out of me till I am - only the thing you see me—a vulture—a human beast of prey. Ah, - Allen, thank God for your sake that I am married and that you have escaped - me—forget me—it is the only thing you can do. You can never - hate me as I loathe myself—you can never despise me as I shudder at - my own life. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Puts his hand to his own forehead </i>) Poor lass! Poor - lass! - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Takes’ Allen’s hand, left.</i>) You are the only man - that has been good to me, and I have brought you only pain and shame. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Raising her.</i>) Ah, never mind that, lass. Thee didn’t - mean to do it. Come! I be more sorry for thee than for myself. I could see - what sort of life thee had got around thee, and I wanted to take thee away - from it all. I can do so little for thee now. (<i>Both at cabinet, Allen - r.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> You have taught me, Allen, that there are good men in the - world; forgive me for having taught you that there are bad women. (<i>Clara - crosses in front of Allen to r.door.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Not bad, Clara. I guess thee’s been more sinned against than - sinning. Thy life has been very dark and thee’s stumbled here and there. - God grant that it may grow brighter for thee one day. - </p> - <p> - Clara, (<i>l.</i>) Ah, Allen, don’t keep speaking kindly to me. Don’t - think kindly of me. Despise me—I can bear that—I am used to - it. (<i>Sits at cabinet.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>r.c. next to Clara.</i>) No, lass, I can’t do that. I - shall alius think kindly of thee. I’ve loved thee too well to change now—because - I knows thy lot’s harder than I thought it wur. - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> (<i>Turns and looks at Allen.</i>) Try not to think of me at - all, Allen—I am not worth it—forget me. There is one who loves - you better than I could ever do, and who is good and pure. (<i>Rises.</i>) - You men never see the love that is under your feet—you reach only - for what is beyond you. Go back to her, Allen. She will make you a better - wife than I could ever have done. (<i>Allen at back of Clara up stage R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>After a pause.</i>) Who—who is this man—your - husband? - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Luke Cranbourne! (<i>She does not look at Allen.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Luke Cranbourne! (<i>Looks nervously at door c. and then at - clock—then crosses to door and stands near it. He assumes to do this - naturally and not to let Clara notice his anxiety.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> We were married secretly before he left for America. Not - even my father knew it until a day or two ago. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> And do you care for him? (<i>Allen at door c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> With such love as a woman can feel without respect. He was - the first that I can remember ever speaking a kind word to me. He is the - only human being I have to cling to—and he is good to me in his way. - (<i>Looks up at Allen.</i>) I don’t expect we shall ever see each other - again. For your sake, I wish we had never met—for myself, my life - will always seem a bit brighter for the love that an honest man once had - for me. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Taking her hand in his.</i>) Good-bye—if ever thee - wants a friend, Allen Rollitt, Woodbarrow Farm, Exmoor, will find him. (<i>Kissing - her on the forehead.</i>) God bless thee, Clara! - </p> - <p> - <b>CLARA.</b> Good-bye! (<i>She goes without a word r.After a few seconds - enter Luke c. announced by Pet.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Coming down.</i>) How de do, dear boy? (<i>Shaking hands. - Allen does so listlessly and almost unconsciously.</i>) I wanted to see - you particularly this morning, before I went to the city. I’ve come across - something that will just double your fortune. Here. (<i>Laying papers on - table l. and taking up and pouring out a glass of wine.</i>) You do have - such capital wine, Rollitt, I really must help myself to a glass. It is a - splendid scheme. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>r.c.</i>) Very like, but we won’t discuss it now. (<i>Taking - notes from his pocket-book.</i>) I want thee to leave by the noon train - for the Continent. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Turns round, face to audience, glass in left hand.</i>) - What’s up? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Crosses l. c., hands him the notes.</i>) Thy wife can - join thee there afterwards. (<i>Luke starts and looks hard at Allen.</i>) - And thee can get away to Australia, or somewhere in that direction. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Defiantly.</i>) And why, pray? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Because there is a man in the next room who be more anxious - to see thee than thee may be to see him. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> What man? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Richard Hanningford. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Luke lets fall the glass.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Good God! Thee’ve given the signal to call him in! Quick! (<i>Luke - rushes in terror to door at back.</i>) Not that way. (<i>Luke bewildered - and helpless with fright, turns wildly about like a hunted thing not - knowing which way to fly. Is about to make for other door, when handle of - door at back is heard to move.</i>) Too late—keep where thee art. - </p> - <p> - <b>LUKE.</b> (<i>Clinging to Allen’s arm.</i>) Save me! (<i>Allen thrusts - him behind door at c. as it opens and enter Hann. and Purt. following. - Allen goes r. Hann. comes down and stands c. Purt. remains near door and - is about to close it.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Who has moved down to r.c., nervously, with effort to - appear calm and careless.</i>) Leave the door, Mr. Purtwee, leave the - door. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> Wide open? (<i>Surprised.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Yes, yes, it’s fearfully hot in here! (<i>Wiping his brow.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>Looking at him suspiciously.</i>) I don’t find it so. I - think we’ll have it shut over this job. (<i>Turns to door.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Eagerly.</i>) No, no! Don’t shut it—don’t shut it. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> Why not? (<i>Looks hard at Allen.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Why—why—don’t I tell you. It’s so close—so— - </p> - <p> - (<i>Hann. crosses, goes to door c. and locks it, then returns, eyeing - Allen sternly. Luke has crept behind the curtain, which hangs like a - pillar by the side of the door. Allen watches with intense suspense.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>c.</i>) Well—you gave the signal! - </p> - <p> - (<i>Allen r.c. a little to front of Hann. He keeps in front of Hann. all - through the scene until Luke has got away and prevents his turning round—he - is very excited but tries to appear careless—the result being a - slightly hysterical manner. When Luke comes from behind the curtain and - while he is crossing Allen catches Hann. by the lapels of his coat and - holds and works him round so that his back is to Luke. He grows more and - more eager and intense until Luke is off, when he gradually subsides into - a quieter manner, but not too suddenly. At Hann’s hint that he has had too - much brandy, he catches at the idea to cover his excitement, to account - for his conduct.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Yes, my dear fellow—but—but—I wur going to - explain to thee—it wurn’t the signal—it wur an accident. I - dropped the glass by accident. Thee see I had just had a glass of brandy. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> More than one glass, cousin? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Laughs loudly.</i>) Ha! ha! Perhaps it wur two. (<i>First - movement of Luke.</i>) (<i>At this point Luke creeps from behind curtain, - Purt. sees him and is about to make an exclamation, when Allen, covering - his action by assumed drunkenness, lunges half round and catches Purt. on - his shoulder, clutching it tightly with his left hand while holding Hann. - with his right—laughing boisterously all the time. Purt. understands - and remains silent. Allen grows more and more excited. Laughs.</i>) Well, - now, look’ee here. - </p> - <p> - Hanningford. Cousin Dick—my long lost—(<i>laughs as before and - slaps him on the shoulder. Hann. impatient half turns round—Allen - seises his coat with both hands and keeps him round.</i>) No—no—look - thee here, Cousin Dick. Now you say this Cassidy, this creeping, crawling, - lying cur, Dan Cassidy, tried to murder thee—(<i>Hann. again seems - as though he would turn round</i>)—and these papers—these - papers that you sent me. Well, I sent ’em on to Purtwee. Ah, he’s a - sharp one. (<i>Door clicks after Luke’s exit.</i>) Purtwee, he’ll know - who’s who. He’ll put us right. Won’t ’ee, Purtwee, old friend? - Won’t ’ee—won’t ’ee? - </p> - <p> - (<i>He slaps Purt. on back, laughing boisterously and half staggering - forward into Purt.‘s arms. Luke has got away by door r., and from now - Allen’s excitement gradually subsides, and an air of exhaustion follows. - Sits l.c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>c.</i>) Say! Are you drunk or playing the fool? Where’s - this man Cassidy? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Pause.</i>) I don’t know. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> Isn’t he coming here? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> No! - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>Angrily.</i>) Didn’t you lead me to believe— - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> That you should be brought face to face wi’ him? Yes—but - I’ve changed my mind since then. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>After a pause.</i>) I understand: it was only a trick to - give you time to get him out of the way. You thought that without him I - should not be able to prove my case. I thought I was dealing with an - honest man and a friend, and I offered to share the money with you. (<i>With - tierce anger.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Fiercely, rising.</i>) And I tell you to take the whole - of it! (<i>A pause—Hann. steps back and stares at him.</i>) I have - learnt enough within the last few minutes to believe that you are the man - you say you are, and if so, take it all. You offered me £100,000 to give - thee Dan Cassidy, I offer thee £200,000 to let him go his way in peace. (<i>Pause.</i>) - Come, you may find it hard to prove thee art Hanningford afore the law. - Prove it to me and Mr. Purtwee, and give me thy hand on it that thee’ll - never seek to find Dan Cassidy or harm him, and thee art old Hanningford’s - heir, and I, Allen Rollitt, farmer and yeoman. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>After a pause.</i>) Your secrets are your own, cousin. - I’d dearly have loved to have my revenge upon the hound, but if Dan - Cassidy is worth £100,000 to you, you can have him—I shouldn’t have - thought he was. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> He goes free, so far as you are concerned, for ever? - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> For ever. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Right, Dick Hanningford! (<i>They grasp hands.</i>) And now - we’ll say good-bye for to-day if you don’t mind. Mr. Purtwee will see thee - to-morrow, and arrange things. I’d like to be quiet a bit just now. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> You’ve had a rough morning, cousin, and I guess the kindest - thing I can do is to take myself off. Good-bye. (<i>Shakes hands.</i>) - Good-bye, Mr. Purtwee. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> Good-bye, Mr. Hanningford; I will write to you to-morrow. - </p> - <p> - <b>HANN.</b> (<i>Goes to door c.</i>) No hurry. Good-bye. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Exit c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> Well, I can’t understand you, my boy. It’s really a very - Quixotic thing to do. Why shouldn’t the man suffer for his crime? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>l.</i>) Because he can’t suffer without bringing - suffering to them as I’d rather spare—because he’s the husband of - the woman I have been calling Clara Dexter. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> (<i>Astonished.</i>) You don’t say that, lad! When did you - learn it? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> About five minutes ago. (<i>Crosses to r.; leans on chair.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> (<i>After a pause.</i>) Hanningford said true; it’s been a - rough morning for you. (<i>Going up to Allen and laying his hand on his - shoulder.</i>) Would you rather that I stopped with you a bit, lad, or - left you alone? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Leave me alone, old friend. (<i>Purt. goes to c. door.</i>) - I shall be off soon. - </p> - <p> - <b>PURT.</b> (<i>At door c.</i>) Where are you going to? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> I’m going back to Woodbarrow Farm. I’ve had eno’ of the big - world. I’ve had enough of fine folks and their ways. I’m going back to my - own people—I’m going back to see the faces of them as I know loves - me, to feel the hands of them as I know thinks well of me—I’m going - back home. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Purt. exit R., Allen stands l. by fire, stage darkens, and scene - changes. Slow tableau. Music plays till change of scene and through Scene - 2.</i>) </p <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - Scene 2. Same as Act I. - </p> - <p> - <i>Time:</i> evening, fire burning brightly, and lamp lit on table, where - supper is laid. Deb. discovered by fire, attending to cooking operations; - Mrs. R. by fire, laying supper. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Be it done, lass? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Who is kneeling down, looking into oven.</i>) Yes, aunt, - just to a turn. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Crossing and looking over Deb’s shoulder.</i>) Ah, that - be just right. Thee’s a good cook, lass. (<i>Crossing back to table.</i>) - Ah, how un used to like a veal pasty. (<i>Sighs.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> It’s a bad thing going to bed, though, ain’t it, aunt? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Ah, anything be bad for them as ain’t got no stomachs, and - underdone bricks be all right for them as has. (<i>Gets dishes from - dresser; lays table.</i>) Besides, we bain’t going to bed yet. Us’ll sit - and have a chat after supper. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> It seems so lonely of an evening here now. (<i>Looking into - fire.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>In front of table r.c.</i>) So it do, lass. (<i>Crossing - L.</i>) Ah, the lads bean’t so big to look at, but they leaves a rare - space behind ’em when they goes away. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>After a pause, still gazing dreamily into fire.</i>) I - wonder if he’ll ever come back. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Aye, aye; he’ll come back, never fear. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Turns.</i>) What, to stop? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>l. sits on settle.</i>) Ah, to stop. - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> What makes you think so, aunt? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> I dunno. It’s never seemed real to me, any on it. I’m - awaiting every day to hear un lift the latch and walk in to find as it had - all been a dream. So I alius lays for three (<i>l.</i>) - </p> - <p> - (<i>Enter Allen c. He is dressed much as in Act 1. He shuts the door and - stands by it.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Well, mother, (<i>c.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>l. staring at him.</i>) Allen, lad! (<i>Bewildered, not - grasping it. Deb. having risen, stands with the hot pie that she has that - moment taken from the oven, transfixed R.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>At door c.</i>) I’ve come home, you see, to stop—for - good. Are thee glad to see me, mother? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>l.</i>) Come home! To stop! For good! Ah! (<i>Rushes - across with a cry of joy and hugs him up c.</i>) I said he would—I - said he would—I said he would. My boy! My boy! (<i>After a pause.</i>) - And—and all the money, and—and Miss Dexter? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Taking off his hat and throwing it down at hack.</i>) - Shadows, mother, that have passed away, out of my life, for ever. I’ll - tell thee all about it later on, never mind to-night. Let’s think only - about ourselves. (<i>Going to Deb. r.</i>) Are thee glad to see me? - </p> - <p> - (<i>Mrs. R. pushes them together from behind r. Deb. still with pie in her - hands, puts her face up. Allen bends and kisses it. Mrs. R. catches the - two in her arms, and embraces both at once, laughing. Deb. holds pie out - at arm’s length to save it.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Mind the pie, mother. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Still embracing them.</i>) Are thee hungry, lad? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Rather. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Bless un, and thee’ve come back just in time for supper, as - thee alius used to. (<i>Laughs, sits up stage, top of table.</i>) Can thee - eat veal pasty? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Can I eat veal—(<i>taking off overcoat and throwing it - on chair r. c.</i>) Let me get at un, that’s all. - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Poor boy! Come and sit ’ee down. (<i>Pushing him in - chair l. of table.</i>) Where be the potatoes, Deb.? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Bewildered, turns round and round.</i>) I don’t know. (<i>Laughs.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Well, have a look in the saucepan, then. (<i>Sits back of - table r. c. Allen l. Deb. r.</i>) Thee won’t find ‘em by turning round and - round. Now come lad, and get a bit inside thee. Us’ll do the talking - afterwards. - </p> - <p> - (<i>Deb. potters about between fire and table in a bewildered manner. She - brings potatoes, and puts them in front of Allen.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> Ah, it do smell lovely, don’t it? (<i>Sniffing at pie.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Never thee mind smelling it, thee taste it. Lud, how thin - thee art looking, lad. (<i>To Deb. who is almost doing so.</i>) Don’t pour - the beer into the pie, child, and look where thee’s put the potatoes! (<i>Takes - jug away from her.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> (<i>Sitting down, laughing.</i>) I don’t know what I’m doing. - (<i>Takes saucepan off table.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Well, us can see that. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> And how’s everything been going on? How’s the colt? - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> Kicked Parsons clean into the ditch yestermorning, the - little dear! (<i>All are now seated.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> No, did un? (<i>Laughs.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> One of the guinea hens is dead, the little one of all. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> What, the one as used to squint? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Yes, Parsons left his shot on the pigstye wall, and she ate - two ounces. Oh, and you remember Jim? - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> What, the bantam? - </p> - <p> - <b>DEB.</b> Yes. He’s given his own father such a licking, and won’t let - him come near the yard. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Laughing heartily.</i>) Plucky little beggar! Serve the - old ‘un right. He wur always a bully. Now, mother—(<i>about to hand - her the pie.</i>) Why, mother, thee art crying! - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> (<i>Crying.</i>) No, I ain’t. Go on with thee supper, lad. - </p> - <p> - <b>ALLEN.</b> (<i>Looking at Deb.</i>) And—why, here be Deb. crying - too! - </p> - <p> - (<i>The two women laugh through their tears. Allen joins them as curtain - descends.</i>) - </p> - <p> - <b>MRS. R.</b> It’s wi’ joy, lad; it’s wi’ joy! - </p> - <h3> - SLOW CURTAIN. - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Woodbarrow Farm, by Jerome K. Jerome - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODBARROW FARM *** - -***** This file should be named 54698-h.htm or 54698-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/6/9/54698/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - - </body> -</html> |