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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: Graft - A Comedy in Four Acts - -Author: Harold Brighouse - -Release Date: August 7, 2017 [EBook #55291] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAFT *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - -GRAFT - -A Comedy In Four Acts - -By Harold Brighouse - -London: Samuel French Publisher - -1913 - -GRAFT - - -[Illustration: 0001] - - -[Illustration: 0001] - - - - - -ACT I - -_A small room on the first floor, awkwardly overcrowded with the entire -furniture of a cottage, a pile of which is stacked in the left corner -and covered with a sheet; the plain iron bed is right, the window coming -between its foot and the pile of furniture; table centre; three plain -upright chairs and one wicker armchair before the fire; fireplace left; -opposite it right a kitchen dresser well stocked with crockery; pans and -kettle about the fireplace. For all the uncomfortable crowding the -room is bright and well kept. Door right. It is 7 p.m. on a September -evening, and the approach of dusk is noticed gradually._ - -_Jim Pilling, a gardener, has finished tea and sits in his shirt-sleeves -before the débris of the meal facing spectator lighting a briar pipe. -Jim is thirty, clean looking, dressed in his rough working clothes -without coat or his combined collar and "dicky" and red tie, which hangs -with the coat behind the door. Sally Pilling is transferring the last -of the table utensils to a tray which she puts on the bed; then removing -the white cloth and shaking crumbs into the fire; a red cloth is -underneath. Sally is of the pale complexion usual to a country girl -living in a town; she dresses neatly and has an apron on; Dick, a thin -boy of eight, in a blue sailor suit, gets off his chair at the table._ - - - -[Illustration: 0091] - - - -Dick. Can I go out and play now, mother? - -(_Jim rises and crosses l. with chair._) - -Sally. Yes. (_She crosses to door and takes down from a hook his sailor -hat._) Here's your hat. (_Dick comes to her; she secures it on his head -with an elastic band._) Don't go far from the door, Dick. I'll shout you -when it's bedtime. - -Jim. And don't get playing in the road--keep on the footpath. - -Dick. Yes, dad. (_He runs out as Sally opens: the door._) - -Sally. Don't get run over now. - -Jim. The young _'_un misses the country. (_Sits in armchair above -fire._) - -Sally (_closing door_). We all do that, Jim. - -Jim. Aye. Streets are no sort of playground for a growing child. Did you -get out while he was at school this afternoon? - -Sally (_gathering up tea-things_). Oh, yes. There's not the cleaning to -do in a single room to keep me in it all day. - -Jim. No; better for you to get out a bit. - -Sally (_dully_). It's no pleasure walking in the streets. - -Jim. Not when there's shops to look at? - -Sally. You can get tired of shops. (_Tea-things on tray._) - -Jim. You're no true woman. - -Sally. I'm no town's woman. (_Crosses to Jim._) I miss the flowers and -the green. I'm pining for the country, Jim. - -Jim. And I'm same way, only I do get the smell of the earth in Mr. -Vining's garden and it's not so bad for me. - -Sally (_wistfully standing above his chair_). I'd dearly love to see -that garden, Jim. - -Jim. I know you would; but they're that strict about the Polygon. No -getting in unless you've business. - -Sally. It does seem hard when there's not a park nor so much as a blade -of grass in the whole blessed town except the Polygon. (_Puts tray on -bed._) - -Jim. The old days were the best, Sally, on the estate where we were -born. - -Sally. We didn't know it, either, till Sir Charles began to sack his -men. - -Jim. No; many a time I've grumbled at the work there and the pay. It's a -judgment on me. - -Sally. You weren't sacked for grumbling. (_Shaking cloth in fire._) - -Jim (_bitterly_). No. I was sacked because Sir Charles lost so much -money on the turf he couldn't keep six gardeners any longer--and me the -one to go because we'd only our Dick and t'others had more childer. - -Sally (_mildly surprised at his tone_). Gentlemen will have their sport, -Jim. It might be worse. You dropped lucky into a job. (_Folds cloth and -puts in dresser drawer._) - -Jim. Aye, the job's all right, and Mr. Vining's a good gentleman to work -for--pay's better than the country an' all, though I can't get stuff -to thrive in Mr. Vining's garden as I'd wish. (_Rises._) Town air kills -'em. Yes, we'd do all right, Sally, if (_looking round as if caged_)--if -there was room to live. That's what we want--room to live. We've -our sticks for a proper house eating their heads off in yon corner -(_indicating the pile_), and I've wages enough to pay rent for a house -and no one 'ull take it from me. There's not a house to let in all -Carrington, nor like to be but what there's plenty waiting for it before -our turn come, and we've waited three years now. - -Sally (_consoling him_). Never mind, Jim. We've got our privacy. We've a -room to ourselves. - -(_She crosses to cupboard, gets work out and puts on table._) - -Jim (_hotly_). A room! One room! (_Cooling._) Aye, but you're right. -Let's be thankful for small mercies. (_Sits._) I mind it looked like we -shouldn't even find a room when we came seeking. But it's hard to live -decent in here, and it's harder on Dick than us. Eat and sleep an all in -one room's not a Christian way of life. - -(_A knock at the door. Sally opens it. Walter Montgomery stands -without. He is a curate, twenty-eight years old, athletic in build, -clean-shaven, with a bright manner and a strong jaw._) - -Walter. May I come in? Good evening, Mrs. Pilling. - -Sally. Surely, sir. - -(_Enter Walter. Sally closes the door, adroitly taking her apron off as -she does so and hanging it up. Jim makes for his coat._) - -Walter. Good evening, Mr. Pilling. (_Seeing his objective._) You're all -right as you are. - -Jim. Shirt-sleeves don't seem respectful, sir. Walter (_genially_).. -Rubbish. It's a pity if you can't be cool in your own room. - -Jim (_apologetically_). The fire does make it hot in here. - -Sally. And we must have a fire to boil the kettle, sir. - -(_Walter looks at the closed window, but, having experience, makes no -suggestion. Jim knocks his pipe out on the fire-bar._) - -Walter (_seeing him, but too late to stop him_). Oh, don't do -that--here, try a pipe of mine. (_Delving in his coat tails for pouch -and offering it._) - -Jim (_shyly_). Well, sir---- - -Walter. Go on, man. (_Jim accepts and fills his pouch; Sally dusts a -chair with the corner of the table cloth._) Now you know that chair -didn't need dusting, Mrs. Pilling. (_He sits._) Well, how's the garden, -Mr. Pilling? - -Jim. Oh, nicely, sir, nicely. - -Walter. Yes. So I thought when I had a look at it over the hedge. -(_Turning to Sally._) I live next door to Mr. Vining, you know, Mrs. -Pilling. - -Sally. Oh, but he can't get the garden to suit him, sir. (_Sits R. of -table._) - -Walter. Oh! How's that? - -Jim. Thanks. (_Returning pouch. Walter fills a pipe and lights up._) -This air's ruination to a garden, sir. - -Walter. You put up a jolly good fight against it, then. My father's -garden looks pretty mean compared with yours. - -Jim (_shyly_). Well, sir, you see, your father will try and look after -his himself. - -Walter. Yes. He's awfully attached to his garden. - -Jim (_with a touch of patronage_). And he doesn't do it badly--for an -amateur, as you might say, but--well, he makes mistakes. - -Sally (_protestingly_). Jim! - -Walter. Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Pilling. Dick keeping well? - -Sally (_formally_). Oh, yes, thank you, sir. - -Walter. I saw him outside as I came in. I fancied the little chap looked -pale. - -Jim (_gravely_). He does look pale. - -Walter. Anything the matter? - -Jim. No, sir, no... only this. - -Walter (_vaguely_). This? - -Jim. This room--living in one room and nothing but streets to run about -in. - -Sally. You can't keep a child inside, sir. 'Tisn't natural. The streets -if it's fine and the stairs when it's wet out. - -Walter. None too safe, Mrs. Pilling, either of 'em. - -Sally. But what are you to do? - -Walter (_hopelessly_). Nothing, I suppose. - -Jim. Folks can't thrive cramped up the way we are. If garden stuff won't -go in the air, it can't be good for humans. - -(_A knock at the door. Without waiting for Sally, who starts towards -door, Stephen Verity enters. He is fifty, iron grey, with a good deal of -iron in his composition, though just now concerned more with the velvet -glove than the mailed fist. A selfmade man, he is cynical, domineering, -dryly humorous at times, an ugly customer if crossed, with a strong jaw -and tightly closed lips. Dressed in morning coat and grey trousers with -very square toed boots, turned down collar, black tie. His coat is good -solid broadcloth, but the cut is palpably local._) - -Stephen (_off_). Are ye in, Pilling? (_He enters and sees Walter. -Sally and Walter rise--grimacing at Walter._) Oh! (_He stops short in -doorway._) - -Jim (_with deference nicely regulated some degrees lower than that he -showed Walter_). Come in, Mr. Verity. - -Walter (_holding out hand_). How do you do, Mr. Verity? - -Ste. (_shaking hands and speaking with laboured politeness_). How do you -do, Mr. Montgomery? (_Dropping his hand--sneeringly._) - -[_He appropriates the wicker chair. Walter sits edgeways on the table._ - -I didn't expect to find you here. What are you doing? Looking after -their souls? - -Walter (_pleasantly_). I dropped in for a chat and a smoke, before going -on to keep my appointment at your house. What are you doing? (_Sits l. -of table._) - -Ste. I'm looking after their bodies, only some of them won't see it. -Pilling's a tough nut to crack. - -Walter. Not gathered him in yet? - -Ste. No, but I shall. He's one of your flock. It takes time to get hold -of these fellows who come in from the country, (_spitefully_) where -the squire and the parson spell omnipotence. He'll change his tune yet, -though. - -Jim (_shaking his head_). I'm not the changing sort. - -Ste. (_confidently_). You will be. A year or two more of this room and -you'll be ripe for anything. - -Sally (_lifting the tray_). We're ripe now for a change from this. - -Ste. Don't go, Mrs. Pilling. - -Sally. I can get my turn at the sink for washing up now. - -Ste. That can wait. I want to ask you something. - -Sally (_replacing the tray_). Yes, sir? (_Sits r. of table._) - -Ste. (_after brief pause_). Well, now, Mrs. Pilling, what would you say -we need most in Carrington? - -Sally (_promptly_). Fresh air. - -Ste. You've hit the nail on the head. Trust a woman to be sensible when -health's at stake. I've a piece of news for you. There's talk of getting -a recreation ground for Carrington. - -Walter (_interested--sincerely_). Indeed! I hadn't heard. It's a most -interesting thing. - -Jim. And about time too. (_Sits below fire._) - -Ste. (_sentimentalizing_). Yes, you'll be able to take Mrs. Pilling -down for a stroll on a summer's evening or a Sunday afternoon and watch -little Dick play about on the soft grass breathing the fresh air and -fancying yourselves back in the country again. No need to have Dick -running about in the streets then. - -Jim (_curtly_). When? - -Ste. Well, nothing's settled yet, of course. I'm bringing it up at the -next Council meeting and I've a backing on both sides. Alderman Verity's -a power in Carrington, I don't mind telling you. - -Jim. I don't know about your power, sir. What I'm wondering is how it -'ull strike my boss. - -Walter. It sounds excellent. - -Jim (_suspiciously_). And where might your land be, Mr. Verity? - -Ste. Ah, that's a secret yet. - -Jim. Um. Recreation ground two mile away's no use to my lad and you'll -not find land nearer. - -Ste. It'll not be five minutes from your door. - -(_Walter turns interestedly from one to the other._) - -Jim. Then you'll have to burrow for it or hang it in the air. - -Ste. No, we shan't. The land we have in view's built on at present. - -Jim. Lots of good that 'ull do--turning people out of house and home to -make a playing field, when houses are so scarce an' all. - -Walter. Yes. To my mind it's more housing accommodation that's most -urgent here, Mr. Verity. - -Ste. We'll get neither without we're helped. There'll be a lot of -opposition. - -Walter. Surely not. - -Ste. Oh, yes, there will. We Progressives can't carry anything in the -Council unless there's a big force of public opinion at our backs. - -Walter (_confidently_). You won't lack that if you've a practicable -plan. - -Ste. (_hotly_). Practicable! Nothing ever is practicable to some folk -that means spending public money and putting up the rates. They're too -shortsighted to see that a healthy town pays best in the end. - -Walter (_reasonably_). Still, such things as rates have to be -considered, I suppose. - -Ste. (_hotly_). Oh, yes. Consider the purses of the ratepayers and -consider the health of the people and the danger of little children -playing in the street and ask your religion which consideration weighs -heaviest. - -Walter (_a little warmly_). Really, Mr. Verity, I needn't consult my -religion. My common sense is sufficient to put me on your side--if you -really are right in believing there can be two sides to such a question. - -Ste. Don't you make any doubt about that. There'll be two sides right -enough. - -Walter. Well, can _I_ do anything? Will you accept my help? - -Ste. Yes, yours--and yours, Pilling, and every man's who'll say a word -for us. - -(_A motor horn heard violently below the window--a few masculine curses -and feminine shrieks--which Sally echoes as she leaps to window and puts -it up._) - -Sally. Dick's in the street. (_She flies across from window and out at -door._) - -Ste. (_with the air of a conjuror_). There you are! Street accident. - -(_Jim follows Sally, but is met at the door by a very irate taxi-cabman -carrying Dick in one hand and by the slack of his trousers, followed by -Sally. The Chauffeur is a Cockney, about thirty, clean shaven, with the -usual oily pallid complexion--dark--with black leather leggings and a -bottle green great-coat with red facings. His number is on an enamelled -plate, which is reversed._) - -Jim (_with more threat than anxiety_). Have you hurt him? - -Chauffeur. 'Urt? Nah. Aw'm a hexpert droiver, aw am. - -(_He puts Dick on his feet. Dick seeks refuge behind his mother s skirts -and pulls at them with one hand, curiously watching the Chauffeur all -the time. Pilling takes jug from washstand r. and exit for water._) - -Pulled up in foive yard. Bet it ain't no bloomin' fault of 'is 'es not -'urt. - -Sally (_threateningly_). If you'd killed my boy I'd have---- - -Chauff. (_interrupting_). Cheese it, missus. 'E's only froightened. - -Dick. I'm not hurt, mother. - -Chauff. No, bet yer would be if yer got what yer bloomin' well arsked -for. Yer came as near to it as bone is to flesh. - -(_Sally sits on stool r, with Dick, examining his bruised knee._) - -Ste. (_stepping forward pompously_). Now then, my man---- - -Chauff. Aw'm not yer man. (_To Sally._) Nah aw' give yer warning, -missus, to look after 'im. - -(_Jim returns with water, which he puts by Sally r. She washes the -knee._). - -Walter (_quietly_). Isn't it your business to look after the safety of -pedestrians? - -Chauff. (_acknowledging the Church by a quieter reply_). What roight 'ad -'e to-be in the middle of the rowd? Ain't the poivement woide enough for -'im to ply 'opscotch? (_He addresses Walter._) - -Jim (_r_). Look here, that's my kid, and if you've anything to say you -can say it to me. - -Chauff. Aw've this to sy. Yer tell 'im to keep to the poivements. 'E -moight 'ave bin in 'eaven nah if aw wasn't a hexpert droiver. There's -more kids to the square foot in this tahn than any place aw've struck. -People moike a fair 'obby of it. - -Ste. (_importantly_). You'd better be careful what you say. You don't -know who you're talking to. - -Chauff. (_with infinite scorn_). Fat lot aw care. Yer nothing but a -crowd of dead-aloive provincials. Don't suppose yer ever saw a taxi-keb -till me and my mate come dahn from London. A 'ackney keb is news to yer -in these parts. (_Up to Stephen._) - -Ste. (_boiling over_). I'm an alderman of this town and if you don't -talk to me respectfully I'll have your license cancelled. You're not fit -to have one. - -Chauff. Ho! Blimey, not fit to 'ave a license, ain't aw? Aw've druv a -dook in my keb. And yer a tahn councillor, are yer? Yus. Yer bloomin' -well look it and aw can't say wuss than that. - -Ste. I'll pay you out for this. I'll report you to your employer. - -Chauff. (_indignantly_). Employer be blowed. Aw'm my own boss. Bought -my keb, aw did. Thet's enterprise. Don't know what enterprise means dahn -here, do yer? - -Ste, What's your number? I'll report you to the police. (_Goes to window -and looks out._) - -Chauff. Yus, yer do. Aw'll tell yer where 'e is. On the 'Igh Street with -a stopwatch in his fat hand, trying to cop me exceedin' the limit, and -aw've never druv above ten moile for fear of the kids. - -(_Jim goes up to door._) - -Ste. I demand to know your number. - -Chauff. (_making sure that it is reversed_). Never you moind my number. -My name's Walker. Fair fed up with this tahn, aw am. Aw'm used to -drivin' gentlemen. Aw druv a bally commercial abart all yesterday and -the blighter tipped me tuppence. - -(_Jim indicates door._) - -Yes. Aw'm going. My keb 'ull carry me to London now (_moves a bit -towards door_), and yer rowds reek of kids. Aw've killed none yet and -aw don't want to. Aw reckon 'oss kebs are good enough for Carrington. -P'raps they train 'em to step loightly on the kids or else they're -funeral 'osses in their spare toime and never learn to go faster. - -Ste. (_almost frenzied_). You... insolent... Cockney... cad. - -Chauff. (_crossing back to Stephen_). Foine language from a tahn -alderman with the Church lookin' on an' all. Aw am among the nobs. Abart -toime aw cleared when a tahn 'as a bally hobject the loikes of you for -an alderman. Aw wouldn't be seen droiv-ing yer not for a quid a moile -and disinfectin' free. - -(_Stephen looks pugnacious. Walter steps between them._) - -Walter. If you're going to London, Mr. Walker--I think you said -Walker--hadn't you better go? - -Chauff. (_at door_). Yus, and aw'll droive quick for once through -Carrington and charnce it. The kids 'ad better look aloive. (_Looking -back at Stephen._) Aw'll tell 'em when aw droive into the old garage -in the Westminster Rowd abaht meetin' a real loive alderman. They'll be -sending rand from Fleet Street to interview me abaht it. - -(_Exit Chauffeur, leaving door open._) - -Jim (_closing door--to Walter_). I'm sorry you've been spoken to like -that in my room, sir. Civil tongues don't cost nothing. - -Walter (_smiling_). That's a type of modern progress. The new man, Mr. -Pilling. - -Jim. Then I'd as lief have the old. - -Ste. That's where you're wrong, Jim Pilling. This fellow's up-to-date. -He'd never be content to let his children play in the streets. He'd---- - -Jim. No. He'd drive over them. - -Dick (_who's been clutching Sally's skirts, staring_). Boo hoo! - -(_Sally bends down._) - -Ste. (_all ostentatious sympathy_). What's to do? - -Dick. My knee's hurting. (_Holding it up._) I falled on it. - -Sally (_examining it_). It's only bruised. - -Jim (_looking at the knee_). Got any plaster? - -Sally. I think so. (_Opens drawer in the dresser and searches._) I ought -to have. - -Jim (_watches her_). What's that? - -Sally. That's no good. Corn plaster. There's Beecher's Pills and Wood's -Sarsaperilla and every mortal thing except the one you want. - -Walter (_reprovingly_). Patent medicines, Mrs. Pilling. (_Back to -fire._) - -(_Dick on stool, watching Sally._) - -Sally (_justifying herself_). They've all got the Government stamp, sir. - -Ste. (_who has taken out a pocket hook, eyeing Dick with what he thinks -is benevolence_). I generally have some plaster in my pocket. (_But he -looks in vain._) No, none there. Sorry, Mrs. Pilling. - -Sally. I'd better take him to the chemist's. (_She gets a purse from the -dresser._) - -Dick. Don't want no chemists. Want my supper. - -Sally. You'll have your supper when we get back. Come and see the man -who lives behind the big red bottles. - -(_Dick consents to go. Exeunt Sally and Dick._) - -Ste. (_triumphantly_). Anybody got anything to say against a recreation -ground _now_. - -Walter. Neither of us ever had, I hope. - -Ste. You'd a lot to say about the rates. - -Jim. And I didn't see the use of pulling houses down to make room where -houses are scarce. - -Ste. We shan't pull down many. - -Jim. It'll be a small ground then. (_Sits R. of table._) - -Ste. (_with quiet triumph_). About ten acres. - -Jim. You'll have to pull down streets on streets to find ten acres. - -Ste. We shall pull down just five houses. (_Sits L. of table._) No more -and no less. - -Jim. Five houses! - -Walter (_startled_). Five, Mr. Verity? - -Ste. (_with bluster_). Yes. Five houses, I said. - -Walter (_puzzled_). Then you must be thinking of--oh, but that's -ridiculous. - -Ste. And why is it ridiculous, Mr. Montgomery? - -Walter. The Polygon's the only place that applies to. - -Ste. Well, why shouldn't I be thinking of the Polygon? - -Walter. Are you? - -Ste. Yes.. - -Walter. But the Polygon is---- - -Ste. (_interrupting_). I'll tell you what the Polygon, is. - -Walter (_quietly_). It's my home, Mr. Verity. - -Ste. (_with gusto_). Yes, it's the home of the leisured and privileged -class of Carrington. It's five big houses with a kind of a square of -tennis lawn in the middle of them and a great big garden behind each. -It's the only apology for a breathing space we have and it's bang in the -middle of the town. You've got great gates to it marked "private" and a -lodge keeper to watch 'em and see none of the common herd get in to soil -your sacred air by breathing it in their vulgar lungs. It's a shame -and a scandal for the land to be wasted on you and it's not going to be -wasted much longer. - -Walter (_without passion_). To the people who live there, it's----- - -Ste. (_interrupting_). They're about twenty all told. Who are they -to get in the way of the thousands that live crowded up like rabbits -outside? - -Walter. They happen to be able to afford it, Mr. Verity. - -Ste. (_sarcastically_). Yes. They're well-to-do, so they've the right to -monopolize the air. - -Walter (_mildly_). Yes, yes. But you do put things so violently. - -Ste. (_glancing at Jim for approval_). I feel 'em violently. - -Walter (_half apologetically_). You must remember this is quite a new -idea to me, and for the moment it seems iconoclastic, if you don't mind -my saying so. - -Ste. (_sneering_). Yes. Like all your class, you don't like new ideas. -I'll say nothing about your Church, though that don't like new things -either. - -(_Jim rises._) - -Walter. If you'll only give me a moment to think, Mr. Verity.... I'm -trying my best to see the matter from your standpoint. Meantime, I don't -know that you'll improve things by fulminating against the Church. - -Ste. (_blustering_). I shan't do myself any good by truckling to it, -either. The Church was here before I was. It was here when Carrington -was a little village and it's stood by and let the place grow into one -huge slum. If we waited for the Church to give us a lead, we'd wait for -all eternity. - -Walter (_smiling_). But you're not addressing the Church, you know. -You're addressing a young and humble member of it. - -Ste. You're all tarred with the same brush. - -Walter. Not so black as our cloth, I hope. Some of us younger men try to -be social reformers. - -Ste. Yes. It's all very pretty and romantic, but when it comes to -anything that touches you personally like this does you're as bad as the -greediest tithe grabbing pluralist that ever robbed a starving farmer of -his---- - -Jim (_touching Stephen's arm_). Mr. Verity, I'm a man that's slow to -anger. But I've this to tell you. Mr. Montgomery's a clergyman and -you're saying things to him that aren't proper to be said and that I'll -hot have said in my room. (_Shrewdly._) And you're not going the right -way to get my vote for your recreation ground either. . - -Ste. (_alarmed_). I apologize, Pilling. (_Rises._) - -Jim (_satisfied_). Ah! - -Ste. (_earnestly_). It's the wrongs of your class. I think of others, -Pilling. I see what the motorman saw--streets crowded with little -children, growing up in the gutter, playing in the dust--I can't help -it. My tongue runs away with me when I think of it all. - -Walter. Say no more, Mr. Verity. You're probably right about the -Polygon. I dare say we are out of place there, but you couldn't expect -me to take your view the moment it's sprung on me. - -Ste. (_nodding_). I've a way of calling a spade a spade. - -(_A knock at the door. Jim opens it. A Man advances a foot into the -room. Behind him is dimly seen a woman, both poorly dressed. The Man has -a bundle tied up into a blue quilt on his shoulder; his voice is tired -and hopeless._) - -Man. Have you got any floor space to let in this room, mate? - -Jim. No. (_Trying to close the door. The Man's foot keeps it open._) - -Man. Don't shut the door in our face. I've got the money to pay for it. -I'll give you a week's rent now. - -Jim. It's no use. I'm not letting. - -Man (_pleading_). I'm in work, mate. Start at Bamford's factory o' -Monday. A corner's all as we want. - -Jim. I tell you I've none to let. - -Man. Don't be so hard on a fellow. I can't get in nowhere. - -Jim. You'll not get in here. - -Man (_turning dejectedly_). Lodging-houses full up and getting late an' -all. We've been looking all day. - -Jim (_closes the door_). Get three or four of them a week. They find -room somewhere in the end. - -Walter. What did he want? Floor space? - -(_Stephen crosses l._) - -Jim. Aye. Lots of rooms about here with two or three families in 'em. -Some one 'ull take them in if they look long enough. - -Walter. I know. It's appalling. - -Ste. And ten acres in the Polygon with only five houses on 'em. (_Sits -in armchair._) - -Walter. All the more reason to build houses there and not waste it in -playing fields. - -Ste. Ah! So it is wasted now? - -Walter. Yes. It's wasted now. I'm going to do my best to help you. -(_Back to fire standing._) - -Ste. That's good news, any way. - -Walter. Don't count on me for much. But what I can do I will. I'm afraid -I must go now. I've a call to make before I'm due at your house. - -Ste. Right. See you later. - -Walter (_to Jim_). Say good-night to Mrs. Pilling for me. (_Crossing -R._) - -(_Jim opens the door as Walter goes out._) - -Good-night. - -Ste. (_rubbing his hands together_). Ah, glad I came. Good thing to rope -in young Montgomery. - -Jim (_sourly_). Good, is it? - -Ste. What else do you call it? - -Jim (_aggressively_). Look here, Mr. Verity, you've been coming here -calling yourself my friend. I knew well enough it was my vote you were -after. Bless you, I don't mind. I know what even the real gentry 'ull -do to get a man's vote. I've seen Sir Charles himself stand by and watch -his wife kiss our Dick at election time. But I've finished with you now. -You'll come here no more after this. (_Above table l._) - -Ste. (_staggered_). But... I don't understand. What have I done? -(_Rises._) - -Jim. It's not what you've done. It's what you're wanting to do. - -Ste. I'm wanting to provide a recreation ground for Dick to play in. -Anything wrong in that? - -Jim. A lot. There's more important things than playing fields. - -Ste. Oh, you're thinking of Montgomery's idea for houses. - -Jim. No, I'm not thinking of anybody's ideas. Thinking of ideas leads -to mischief. I'm thinking of my bread and butter that you're taking from -me. - -Ste. I? - -Jim. You know very well where I work. - -Ste. You're Mr. Vining's gardener, aren't you? - -Jim. Yes, and Mr. Vining lives in the Polygon. It's likely I'd vote for -breaking up the Polygon, isn't it? - -Ste. But, my dear friend---- - -Jim. I tell you I'm not your friend. - -Ste. Mr. Vining will have to live somewhere. He won't cease to require a -gardener. - -Jim. Ever hear tell as a bird in the hand whacked two in the bush? - -Ste. (_scornfully_). If you're afraid of losing your employment. - -Jim (_with conviction_). A working man's always afraid of that. I know -what it's like to be out of a job. - -Ste. (_ingratiatingly, after a slight pause_). Well, now, I tell you -what. - -Jim.. Aye? - -Ste. We shall want somebody to look after the grass in the recreation -ground. - -Jim. Well? - -Ste. The Park Committee will want an experienced gardener--like you. - -Jim. Are you offering me the job? - -Ste. Yes. - -Jim. How do you know you'll be on any Park Committee? You might be fired -out of the Council next November. - -Ste. (_with dignity_). I'm an alderman, Pilling. Aldermen stay in, they -don't get fired. - -Jim. You're offering me this. Well and good. And what about all the -other folk as find work in the Polygon? House servants and such like. - -Ste. The residents won't cease to want servants where they move to. - -Jim. And you can flit servants same as furniture, can't you? And -servants haven't votes and I have. So you bribe me and they can go to -the devil. - -Ste. (_backing in alarm_). Mr. Pilling! - -Jim. Oh, I'm not blind, if I was brought up in the country. They didn't -learn me there to vote against my master, either. I take Mr. Vining's -money and---- - -Ste. But man alive, how's he to know which way you vote? The ballot's -secret. - -Jim (_sceptically_). Oh, aye, we've heard that tale before. - -Ste. (_irritated_). But it is secret. - -Jim (_unconvinced_). That's what they tell you. And if it is, it's not -secret from me. I'd know how I voted. And I couldn't hold out my hand -for wages from a man when I'd voted opposite to him. I'm not built that -way. - -Ste. (_disgustedly_). Jim Pilling, I thought you'd more sense. - -Jim. I've a sense of right and wrong. - -Ste. Yes, the sense that your employer's always right. - -Jim. It makes no matter if he's right or wrong. He's still my employer. -A man can't vote against the gentleman that gives him bread and butter, -and Mr. Vining's a real gentleman, mind you. (_With enthusiastic -admiration_). I never saw him raise his hand to do a thing himself yet. - -Ste. You're a fool, Pilling. - -Jim. I'm an honest fool, then. - -Ste. Look here, if you won't take it from me, will you take it from Mr. -Montgomery? - -Jim. I don't know. He's a young 'un. More like a man than a parson. -Coming in here and smoking his pipe like you might do yourself. - -Ste. But he is a parson--young Montgomery. - -Jim (_grudgingly_). Aye. He's a man I trust. - -Ste. Then if he tells you, will you vote for turning the Polygon into a -playing ground? - -Jim (_confidently_). He won't. - -Ste. But if he does? - -Jim. I'll see. - -(_Re-enter Sally and Dick._) - -Ste. Hullo! Patched the little man up? - -Sally. Yes. - -(_Dick exhibits a black plaster about his knee._) - -Ste. I'll get out of your way, Mrs. Pilling. I've an appointment to keep -at home. Good-night. (_Crosses below table to door._) - -Sally, - -Jim. Good-night. - -Ste. (_turning at door, patting Dick's head_). Goodnight, Dick. - -(_Dick doesn't respond. Exit Stephen._) - -Sally. Good riddance and all. Now, Dick, you ought to have been in bed -long ago. (_Takes Dick up to bed._) - -Dick. Can't I come and watch you wash up? - -Sally. No, you can't. (_She begins to undress him._) - -Dick. I want my supper. - -Sally. You can have it in bed. - -Jim. You don't like Verity, lass? - -Sally. And never did. What's he want with bothering round week after -week? We're not his class. - -Jim. Vote's what he's after, and it's a marvel to me what they will do -for votes. - -Sally. You'll do yourself no good with him, Jim. - -Jim. I'm thinking so myself. He's a bit too keen on this recreation -ground, Verity is. Been putting himself about something extraordinary. -(_Crosses to fireplace, taking pipe._) I fancy, you know, there's, -something behind all this. - -(_The undressing of Dick advances._) - - -CURTAIN. - - - - -ACT II - -_Stephen Verity's dining-room the same evening. The room has doors right -and left. Window with drawn blind, r. Large table centre with chairs. -Fireplace left. Solid-looking sideboard back centre. The furniture is -solid, old-fashioned, and the atmosphere of the room is one of heavy -comfort without ostentation. The room is a small one. No books anywhere. -In an armchair before the fire is Stephen Verity. Walter Montgomery -faces him in a highbacked chair. Stephen is smoking a large, well -coloured briar._ - - -[Illustration: 0092] - - -Stephen (_removing the pipe_). So you think you're good enough to marry -my daughter, do you? Walter. I ventured to think so. - -Ste. Why? - -Walter. Because I love her, Mr. Verity. - -Ste. That the only reason? - -Walter. No. - -Ste. What are the others? - -Walter. She loves me. - -Ste. Did she tell you so? - -Walter. Yes. - -Ste. Um! (_Slight pause; he smokes reflectively._) - -That all? - -Walter (_rather startled_). All what? - -Ste. All your reasons. - -Walter. Yes, I think so. - -Ste. They're too few. - -Walter. But---- - -Ste. I'll ask _you_ something. - -Walter. Yes? - -Ste. What do you want to get married for? - -Walter. I'm in love. - -Ste. That's no reason. You curates, you're all alike--must be with -marrying other folk so much. Infectious, I reckon. Church ought to be -scheduled along with the other dangerous trades. - -Walter. You're laughing at me. - -Ste. No, I'm not. Marriage isn't a laughing matter, I know. - -Walter. Won't you give me your answer, Mr. Verity? - -Ste. Yes. (_He rises, knocks at his pipe in the grate, puts it on the -mantelpiece and goes himself to the door left. His deliberate movements -cause Walter an agony, of which Stephen is quite aware. Stephen opens -the door and calls._) Lucy! - -Lucy (_off l._). Yes. - -Ste. Come in here. (_He leaves the door open and goes below door. Enter -Lucy Verity. She is twenty-one, pretty, dressed in a skirt and blouse, -pointing to a very modest dress allowance. Her hair is plainly dressed. -Obviously her father is her master, but she is not without indications -of a will of her own. Walter rises as she enters._) Here's a friend of -yours. Tells me he wants to marry you. - -(_Lucy crosses r. of table._) - -Lucy (_anxiously_). Yes, father. - -Ste. It's true, then? (_Motions her to sit._) - -Lucy. Yes. (_Sits r. of table._) - -Ste. Well, listen to me. He's a curate. Curates always marry young -and have enormous families on no income. (_Walter makes an attempt to -protest; Stephen proceeds unmoved._) I advise you not to marry him. -If he wants a wife, he'll not go begging one for long. There's always -crowds of silly girls ready to help a chap to button his collar behind. - -Walter. Mr. Verity, this isn't a joke to us. - -Ste. I don't know that losing Lucy 'ud be a joke to me. - -Walter. I can very well believe that. But it's a thing that's bound to -come to you sooner or later. - -Ste. You're making a mistake. It isn't bound to come at all. My -daughter's no need to find a man to keep her. She's a head on her -shoulders and sense enough to know when she's well off. Who's going to -look after my house if Lucy marries? Tell me that, young man. - -Walter. I really haven't thought about it, Mr. Verity. - -Ste. And I'm not going to. - -Walter. There'd be plenty of time to consider that. We're not proposing -to get married to-morrow. - -Ste. 'Um. Very good of you. Want a long engagement, eh? - -Walter. Moderately. - -Ste. And hope I'll be dead and out of your way first? (_Sitting behind -table c._) - -Lucy. Father! - -Ste. You hold your tongue. I'll get you to talk in a minute. (_To -Walter._) What do you want to wait for? - -Walter. I'm hoping to get a living before long. - -Ste. So you _have_ proposed on nothing a year. I thought as much. - -Walter (_with excessive dignity_). I'm not without money, sir. I could -afford to marry at once. - -Ste. Could you now? And what might you call being not without money? - -Walter. I've £150 a year. - -Ste. You plutocrat! Lucy, do you hear that? He's £150 a year. Nice sort -of marrying income, that is. Oh, but perhaps I'm wronging you. What's -your father going to do for you when you marry? - -Walter. I don't know. I haven't asked him. - -Ste. Well, give a guess at it. - -Walter. Nothing, probably. He gave me an expensive education. - -Ste. Then he made a bad investment if it's only worth £150 a year to you -to-day. I had no education and I'm worth--well, never mind. Lucy, tell -him what I've been telling you to-night. - -Lucy. What you told me? - -Ste. Don't repeat my words like a fool. Go on. You've got your chance of -talking now. - -Lucy. But---- - -Ste. So like a woman to be backward at tongue-wagging, isn't it? - -Lucy (_as if repeating a lesson_). You told me that mother left me money -which you've, increased by investment till it's now capable of yielding -£1,000 a year, and since my twenty-first birthday a week ago the money -lies to my credit at the bank. - -Ste. That's right. Now, my gallant £3 a weeker, what have you got to say -to that? - -Walter. Of course I didn't know. - -Ste. No. I'll gamble you didn't. You fancied I lived in a small house -because I couldn't afford a big 'un. That's a regular Polygon notion. -You're used to their way of living up to your income and as much beyond -as you've pluck for. When a man's worked as hard as I have he don't -spend as fast as he earns. He sticks to what he's got. - -Walter. I knew you were a successful man, sir. - -Ste. I've made my way. I began low and I'm no class now, bar what they -think of me at the bank--and that's a fat lot more than they think of -any fine Polygon gentlemen. Would you like to know where Lucy's bit -comes from? - -Walter. Really, I'm---- - -Ste. Her grandfather kept the _Black Bull_. That's where it was made, -except what I've added to it. Stinks of beer, that money does. Pubs were -a good thing in his time for a landlord that kept off the drink. - -Walter. I've no doubt it was honestly made. - -Ste. Aye, ye _would_ think that now you fancy your chance of fingering -it. It was made in the way of business same as my own was, and that -means the best man won and he hadn't time to stand still and think about -honesty. Too busy downing the other fellow for that. And now you've got -it. That's me, sir, builder and contractor, and married a publican's -daughter. Feeling as keen set on Lucy as you were? - -Walter. I don't believe very much in artificial class distinctions, Mr. -Verity. - -Ste. Don't you? Not in your business hours, you mean. Not so long as you -remember you're a parson. - -Lucy. Father! (_Rises._) - -Ste. Well, what's the matter with you? Do you want to marry him? - -Lucy. Yes. - -Ste. You're a fool. You've £1,000 a year. You're an heiress. He's a -pauper.. - -Walter. I'm not a pauper, but I quite agree. - -From the worldly point of view---- - -Ste. It's the only view I care-about. (_To Lucy._) With your money you -can look high. - -Lucy. Thanks, father. When I want to buy a husband, I'll let you know. -I'm thinking of marrying one at present. - -Ste. (_immensely surprised_). Hullo! Showing spirit, are you? (_Rises._) - -Lucy. It's the first time, if I am. - -Ste. And it had better be the last, if you don't want to quarrel. -I'm not one of these weak-kneed modern fathers that let themselves -be browbeaten by their own children. Perhaps you think you'll get him -whether I consent or not? - -Lucy. I hope you will consent. (_Pause._), - -Ste. I'm not fond of curates, Lucy. It's a soft job, and a real man -looks for a fighting chance in life. - -Walter. I get plenty of fighting to do, Mr. Verity. - -Ste. Who do you fight with? - -Walter. Evil, in every shape and form. - -Ste. 'Um, the devil's game for a few rounds yet. - -Walter. He's an old hand, and if we haven't knocked him out we're -weakening his defence. - -Ste. Well, I'll give you a chance of showing it. - -Walter. In a good cause, I hope. - -Ste. The cause is all right. You're a parson. Got the good of the poor -at heart and all that sort of thing? - -Walter. I hope so. - -Ste. Yes. (_Briskly._) Well now, about Lucy. - -Walter. Is that the fight? - -Ste. I'm coming to the fight. You say you love her. - -Walter. I do. (_Stephen is between them._) - -Ste. (_to Lucy_). You love him? - -Lucy. Yes. (_Lucy r., Stephen c., Walter l._) - -Ste. (_holding up his hands evenly_). Quits so far. Income on the male -side £150 a year. (_Surveys his right hand._) Income on the female -side £1,000. (_Depressing his left hand as if weighing the incomes in -scales._) Hullo! wo! something wrong there. Doesn't balance. - -Walter (_bitterly_). Do you think I don't know it? - -Ste. (_dropping his hands_). Yes. You've hooked your fish, my boy. But -you're a long way off landing her yet. - -Walter. Tell me what you want me to do. - -Ste. (_curtly_). Earn her. - -Walter. Yes, but how? (_Steps forward._) - -Ste. By fighting. By doing something for the good of the town. There's -this proposal to buy up the Polygon. - -Walter (_eagerly_). Yes? - -Ste. Well, now you know what you've to do. You know what Polygon people -are and you know what the town needs. - -Walter. The town needs space and decent houses. - -Ste. That's what you've to rub into your Polygon set, and you'll not -find 'em seeing it so easy. - -Walter. You can't blame them if they don't exactly welcome the idea of -turning out and making fresh homes in their old age. It's only natural. - -Ste. Oh, I'm not afraid of them. They'll not stop us. All you've to -do is to make them see they're an obstacle to progress in this town. -They're bound to see justice if they are narrow and selfish and too -puffed up with pride to know the townspeople and---- - -Walter. And they're my father and my friends, Mr. Verity. - -Ste. Yes, I knew you only disbelieved in class distinctions during -business hours. Scratch the curate and find the hypocrite. - -Walter (_keeping his temper smilingly_). As bad as all that? - -Ste. The moment I attack your class you're up in arms to defend 'em. - -Walter. No. They take up too much room in the Polygon. I never said they -didn't. But they'll not want to go. And surely the whole thing depends -on Sir Charles' readiness to sell. - -Ste. Yes, but a willing Polygon will make a lot of difference, and if -you want Lucy as bad as you say, here's your way to help yourself to -her. - -Walter. I don't see what Lucy has to do with it. - -Ste. Don't you? - -Walter. Well, do you? The town proposes to buy the Polygon for the -people. It's an excellent project and my plain duty is to further it. I -shan't fail in my duty merely because of the unpleasant unheaval in the -lives of a few people who happen to be dear to me. - -Ste. Oh! Well, I don't want words, I want deeds. Succeed and I'll think -about calling you son-in-law--if Lucy doesn't change her mind meantime. - -Walter. I can't see why you insist on making a kind of bribe of Lucy -when there's only one course open to me in any case. - -Ste. (_grimly_). I'm making sure of things. - -Lucy. Father, you don't doubt---- - -Ste. I always doubt an untried man. I doubt if he'll have the pluck to -face old Vining in the Polygon--I doubt lots of things. Put it that I'm -giving him some Dutch courage to stiffen his back. - -Walter (_desperately_). I don't want Dutch courage. Is there any way of -convincing you that I mean what I say? - -Ste. There's going and doing it. - -Walter. Very well, I will. (_Moving as if to go._) Ste. (_stopping -him_). Remember, you're not engaged to Lucy yet. - -Walter. I understand. (_Crosses r._) - -Ste. That'll do, then. You know what you've to do. Good-night. - -Walter. Yes. Good-night, Mr. Verity. - -(_Lucy moves towards right door._) - -Ste. (_to Lucy_). You stay where you are. Say good-night to him while -I've got my eye on you. He can find the front door without your help. - -(_Lucy and Walter shake hands, R._) - -Walter. Good-night. - -(_Exit Walter, r. A slight pause. Stephen eyes Lucy from head to foot -before speaking. Lucy crosses and sits l. of table._) - -Ste. (_before fire, judicially_). It strikes me pretty forcibly I've -brought a fool into the world. (_Sharply._) How long's this been going -on behind my back? - -Lucy (_with an air of standing up to him_). Nothing's gone on behind -your back. I told Walter at once he must speak to you. - -Ste. Umph! If you'd told me you wanted help to send him about his -business there'd have been some sense in it. But you backed him up. -You showed, fight. You're getting proud, my girl. - -Lucy. I've grown up, father. - -Ste. Grown up, have you? All right. If you fancy you're too old to come -to me for advice you can do without. - -Lucy. You know I want your advice. - -Ste. So as you can do opposite, eh? - -Lucy. Oh, that's unjust, father. I never disobeyed you in my life. - -Ste, And you'd better not begin now, or you and I will fall out. Ha! -So you're grown up, are you? Yes, you've been a legal woman for a week. -Only I've been a legal man for thirty years and you'll allow I know the -world better than you. - -Lucy. Of course. - -Ste. Oh, you do agree to that, do you? - -Lucy. Certainly. - -Ste. Well, I tell you you'll be throwing yourself away on young -Montgomery..(_Persuasively._) He's not up to your weight, Lucy. Polygon -type, he is. You know, shove all your goods in the shop window. Live in -a big house for swank and get it dirt cheap because the neighbourhood's -gone down. They're not solid.. Lucy, you and I together could buy up the -whole, crowd of swells to-morrow.. - -Lucy. I fell in love with Walter before I knew I'd a penny piece in the -world. I don't think my money must make any difference. - -Ste. Don't be silly. Money makes all differences. We're all born -without pockets. It's pockets or no pockets that makes us rich or poor. -Yesterday you didn't knew you'd a pocket and the Polygon looked big and -young Montgomery, he looked big. I don't blame you. It looked a good -thing. - -Lucy. It looks the same to-day as it did yesterday. - -Ste. Women are fools over money. I did think _you'd_ more sense. -(_Dogmatically._) Money should, marry money. (_With rising irritation._) -It's all my eye to talk of throwing away your money on a penniless -curate. - -Lucy (_rises_). I'm sorry to disagree. Obedience has its limits. I hope -we shan't quarrel, father, but I'm a free woman now and I warn you--oh, -I'm sorry. - -Ste. Sorry, are you? I'm a hard man, Lucy. I'm a masterful man. I know -that. But I'm a soft-hearted fool where you're concerned, or I'd let you -marry the curate and suffer the consequences. But I've got ambitions -for you if you've none for yourself. (_R.d._) When you marry there's two -things for it--money or birth--and you'll not find either in Polygon. -They're a bad imitation of the real thing--about as near as the shoddy -Bamford makes it to honest broadcloth. Not one of them with a handle to -his name. (_Crosses to Lucy._) If you must get married, I'll find you a -husband. Leave it to me. And don't be in such a hurry to leave your old -dad if you are a free woman. - -Lucy (_quietly_). I'm marrying Walter Montgomery, father; but we're not -in any hurry. - -Ste. Going to be obstinate, are you? All right, We'll see who'll win. - -Lucy. You've already given a conditional consent. - -Ste. Don't you worry about that. He may help to keep the Polygon set -quiet till I've put the business through. - -(_Puts ink on table from sideboard._) - -Lucy. You'd use him and then throw him over afterwards. Father, you -don't mean that! - -Ste. What do you know about business? I'd use the devil himself if I -thought he'd smooth my way to a bit of money. - -Lucy. But this isn't money, is it? It's for the town. - -Ste. Oh, yes, of course, it's the town. - -Lucy. Then you'd---- - -(_Janet, the maid, opens the door right to Stephen's obvious relief._) - -Janet. Mr. Bamford, Mr. Alcorn. - -Ste. Ah, that's what I'm waiting for. Don't go beyond call, Lucy. I'll -be wanting you soon. - -(_Exit Lucy l._) - -(_Enter r. Bamford and Alcorn._) - -(_Samuel Bamford is a wealthy shoddy manufacturer. He is a bachelor of -forty, a bon viveur and a sportsman. His shrewd ruddy face shows above a -white four-in-hand scarf, controlled by a horseshoe gold pin. He is well -covered with flesh, but not yet as gross as he probably will be in a few -years. His clothes are slightly sportsmanlike in cut and he wears spats. -A noticeably heavy gold chain crosses his stomach. Nathaniel Alcorn is -tall, spare and dark. His face is yellowish, with a drooping moustache. -He wears a frock coat, and his prosperity, though evident, is less -ostentatious than Bamford's._) - -Ste. Good-evening, gentlemen. (_To Janet._) Send Mr. Smithson up when he -comes. No one else. Janet. Yes, sir. (_Exit Janet._) - -Alcorn (_briskly_). Evening, Verity. - -(_Bamford nods bluffly at Stephen._) - -Ste. Sit down. Any news? - -(_Stephen sits c. above table, Bamford r. and Alcorn l. of table._) - -Alcorn (_producing letter from his pocket_). Yes, my brother's sent this -on. (_Hands letter to Stephen._) From Sir Charles' agent. He's abroad, -Sir Charles. - -Bamford. Yes, confound him. How dare he be abroad when we want him? - -(_Stephen reads the letter._) - -Ste. (_looking up_). Dodging duns. (_To Bamford._) You've seen this? - -Bamford (_gloomily_). Yes. - -Alcorn (_equally gloomily_). It's not encouraging. - -Ste. (_returning the letter to Alcorn_). What isn't encouraging? - -Alcorn. Why, this. (_Reading the letter._) "Speaking for myself alone, I -consider it extremely improbable that Sir Charles will consent to a sale -of the Polygon to your company." (_Leaves letter on the table._) - -Ste. There's nothing to be afraid of there. - -Alcorn. I don't know so much about that. These land owning fellows know -they're no good at business. They leave it to their agents, and if the -agent writes like that, you can take it he knows. - -Ste. He knows all right. Sir Charles isn't a business man, but his -agent is. If there's a chance of selling, that agent wants a top price; -naturally he writes that way to bluff us into raising our offer. - -Bamford. You've a head on your shoulders, Verity. - -Ste. (_to Bamford_). It all depends on what you told us. If your -information's correct, they'll be only too glad to sell. - -Alcorn. Yes. It's you that told us Sir Charles is in low water. - -Bamford. He's dropped a pot of money lately. It's a well known fact. -I know one bookie that's taken ten thousand off him in the season, and -he's not the only one. - -Alcorn (_sanctimoniously_). Deplorable wastrel. - -Ste. Eh? Oh, aye! (_Ironically._) Lamentable prodigality. Shocking -extravagance, isn't it, Alcorn? - -But it suits our book. The faster he goes the pace the better for us, so -you might as well be decently grateful instead of getting mealy mouthed -over it. - -Bamford. Me and Alcorn were arguing coming along here what's to be done -with the land. - -Alcorn. Aye, but as I told him, the first thing is to get possession of -the land. - -Ste. Now, don't you worry about that, Alcorn. The land's as good as ours -at our own price. Sir Charles 'ull jump at it. - -Bamford. Well, I'm for building on it. - -Alcorn. And I'm not so sure. - -Bamford. Of course you're on my side, Verity? - -Ste. Your side? - -Bamford. For building. - -Ste. No. - -Bamford. What, and you a builder! - -Ste. I've finished building now. I'm getting old. I've made my money. - -Alcorn. I'm out for making an open space of it. - -Bamford. You're a blooming philanthropist. - -Ste. No, he's not. It's a pity you missed our last meeting. You don't -grasp the idea yet. We buy the land from Sir Charles. - -Bamford. Yes. - -Ste. Then we create a demand in the town for a recreation ground. - -Alcorn. And you back it up in the Council. - -Ste. And Alcorn as borough surveyor approves officially. - -Alcorn. We force the town to buy from us. - -Ste. And get a quick return of our capital with a clinking profit. - -Bamford (_obstinately_), Well, I thought it was houses. Houses are safe, -and you'd easier raise a cry for houses than playing fields. - -Ste. Depends how you go about it. Work it proper and you could get them -yelling like kids for a municipal service of flying machines. - -(_Enter Smithson, r._) - -Smithson. Good evening, gentlemen all. - -(_Stephen grunts and rises._) - -Alcorn. } Good evening - -Bamford. } Good evening - -(_Stephen gives Smithson his chair, and takes the vacant one r. c. of -table._) - -Smiths. Sorry I'm late, but I've been employing my time well. Sowing the -seed. - -Ste. Been getting at the voters? - -(_Smithson sits between Alcorn and Stephen._) Smiths. Yes, one or two. - -Ste. You've been wasting time. I've collared a man who'll bring in -voters by the score. - -Alcorn. Who might that be, Mr. Verity? - -Ste. Young Montgomery. The parson lad. For all their talk, the Church -still has a big hold on the poorer classes. It'll pay to have that boy -on our side. He'll talk to them in the Polygon, too. Bamford. Aye. Good -man, that, Verity. - -Ste. (_to Smithson_). There's a letter you'd better read. - -(_Smithson reads it._) - -Bamford (_sullenly; emerging from a silent sulk_). I thought it was -houses. - -Ste. Well, it isn't. It 'ud take too much capital to cover the Polygon -with houses. - -Bamford. It was houses. You've altered it. I ought to have been told. No -one told me. - -Smiths (_looking up from the letter_). He'll come round. - -Ste. Yes. - -Bamford (_taking it personally; indignantly_). Who'll come round? I -won't come round. Houses it was and houses it's going to be. - -Ste. (_moving Smithson to give Alcorn the letter. Alcorn pockets it. -Dryly._) We spoke of Sir Charles. - -Bamford. Oh! - -Smiths, (_tentatively_). I fancy, myself, houses would be a safer -battle-cry with the people, Mr. Verity. - -Ste. Damn the people. Who cares for the people? - -Alcorn (_rising_). I really must protest. Such language! (_He seems -genuinely shocked._) - -Ste. (_impatiently_). It's so silly to talk as if the people mattered. -Government by the people! Any fool can lead 'em where he wants. - -Alcorn (_sitting_). We must consider their feelings a bit. Think of the -rates. - -Ste. Oh, we'll consider their feelings all right. We must make 'em feel -what we want 'em to feel.. Then they'll vote for what we want and -kid themselves we do it for their sake. That's how to consider their -feelings. When I was a lad there was a trout stream ran through -Carrington. It's a sewer now, but there were trout in it then and I've -caught 'em by tickling their bellies. That's the way to catch voters, -Mr. Alcorn. Tickle 'em. - -Alcorn. Yes, but the trout died. The voter lives to vote next time. - -Ste. Go on tickling. I'm an old hand and I've never known it fail. - -Bamford. You're not attending to me. I say houses. Smithson says houses. - -Smiths, (_in alarm_). Oh, no, I don't. Indeed I don't. I only say houses -'ull bring votes quicker than playing fields. - -Alcorn. I suppose you couldn't shout houses and make it the other thing -afterwards? - -Smiths. I'm surprised at you, Mr. Alcorn. (_Very righteously._) I stand -for purity in municipal life. - -Bamford. Yes. Always be honest with your electors. - -Ste. Alcorn's got none. He's a permanent official with a certain job, or -he'd know better. - -Bamford. If I provide a quarter of the capital, I've a right---- - -Ste. You've every right, Mr. Bamford, and we shall do nothing without -your approval. - -Bamford. Then I approve houses. As a ratepayer-- - -Ste. (_definitely_). Only, if it's houses, I can't go on. -(_Consternation._) - -Smiths. (_frightened_). We can't do without your influence. - -Bamford (_grudgingly_). No, we can't do without Verity. - -Ste. Our share of what 'ull go on the rates is a flea bite. Our profit -'ull cover it a hundred times. I don't deny the town needs houses, needs -'em badly, only I haven't the capital for houses. My money's tied up and -I'm not touching it. The money I'm putting into this isn't my own. - -(_Alcorn writes on a scrap of paper and passes it to Smithson, who -reads, nods, and passes it to Stephen._) - -Bamford. Who's is it, if it's a fair question? Ste. My daughter's. I'll -want it back quick. Alcorn. Your daughter's got money, then? Bamford -(_very interested_). Your daughter's? Nice looking girl, your daughter. -(_Slight pause._) - -Well, I'm using my own money and----(_Irritably._) - -What's that you're passing round? Another secret from me? - -Ste. (_blandly_). No. (_Passing him the paper._) Bamford (_reading_). -"Make Bamford Mayor next year." (_He looks up at each in turn._) Um. -Well. Bamford's willing. - -Alcorn. I think it's very suitable. - -Ste. Yes. We'll call it a recreation ground, eh, Mr. Mayor-Elect? - -Bamford. I'm not a favourite with the psalmsinging set, you know. - -Alcorn. I've got them in my pocket. They'll be squared all right. - -Ste. If I say mayor, you'll be mayor. You make a bit on the mayoral -allowance, you know. Needn't spend above half of it. - -Bamford. All right. No need to say more. It's a recreation ground and -damn the expense. (_The tension passes._) - -Ste. Right. Got those papers with you, Alcorn? Alcorn. Yes. (_Fussily -producing and smoothing the typewritten articles of association._) - -Ste. Your signature's wanted, Bamford. Bamford (_examining the paper_). -Land Development Syndicate, Ltd. Sounds well, anyhow. Hullo! What's -this? Registered Offices, London Wall, E.C. - -Alcorn. My brother's office in London. Bamford. Why? - -Ste. Wouldn't do to have a local address here. Some busybody 'ud smell -it out. - -Bamford. I see. (_Suspiciously._) What does his brother get out of it? - -Alcorn. Nothing; and he's put down three of his clerks for one share -apiece to make up the statutory seven shareholders. Those are their -signatures above Smithson's and mine. - -(_Bamford nods._) - -Ste. (_dipping pen_). There's a pen. - -(_Bamford signs._) - -I'll witness. (_Calling off l._) Lucy! - -Bamford. I deliver this as my act and deed. - -(_Stephen signs without sitting. Enter Lucy, l. All rise._) - -Lucy. Did you call, father? - -Alcorn (_advancing and speaking with the respect due to a capitalist_). -Good evening, Miss Verity. - -Ste. (_stepping back, and interposing impatiently_). Oh, never mind all -that; sit down, Lucy. (_Pushing her into his vacated chair and pointing -to the papers, handing pen._) Write your name there. - -Lucy (_vaguely_). My name? - -Ste. Yes. Can't you hear? See what it is? Lucy. No. - -(_Bamford's eyes are set on Lucy with the air of a butcher appraising a -sheep._) - -Ste. (_impatiently_). Oh, never mind. It 'ud take a week to make you -understand. You've some money lying at the bank. Mine's all tied up. I -want yours for a bit, so just sign your name there. (_Lucy signs._) Say -"I deliver this as my act and deed." - -Lucy. I deliver this as my act and deed. (_To Stephen._) It's your deed -really, you know. - -Ste. I'll witness. (_Signs._) Right. - -Lucy (_reading_). The Land Development Syndicate, Ltd. - -(_Stephen takes the paper from under her eyes, folds and hands it to -Alcorn._) - -Ste. You'll see to that, now? - -Alcorn. Yes. You're our partner, Miss Verity. Lucy (_standing_). But -what's it all about? - -Smiths. That's right, Miss Verity. Sign first and ask afterwards. - -Bamford. We're buying up the Polygon. Going to make a playing field of -it. - -(_Bamford down r._) - -Lucy. And presenting it to the town? - -(_Stephen alone doesn't look awkward._) - -Alcorn. Well---- - -Ste. (_curtly_). Yes, it 'ull come to the town. - -Lucy (_sentimentally_). How noble of you!' Oh, thank you! Thank you so -much for letting me take a share in this---- - -Ste. (_interrupting_). Yes; now you go and have your supper. It's -getting late. - -(_Exit Lucy, l._) - -Ste. Well, that concludes the business for tonight, gentlemen. Nothing -more to be done till we hear from Sir Charles. (_Puts chair back up -stage._) - -Alcorn. No, that's all. - -Ste. (_finally_). Good night, then. - -Alcorn. Good night, Verity. (_Crosses r._). - -Smiths. Good night. (_Shakes hands and crosses R._) . .. - -(_Smithson opens the door r. Alcorn follows him, pausing and looking -back at Bamford._) - -Alcorn. Coming, Bamford? - -Bamford. No, I want a word with Verity. - -Smiths, (_suspiciously_). Business, eh, Mr. Bamford? - -Bamford. Not about the Company. (_Glancing involuntarily after Lucy._) -Something else. - -(_Exeunt Smithson and Alcorn._) - -Ste. Well, Bamford? Have anything? I've a better port downstairs than -the Polygon toffs can run to. - -Bamford. No, thanks. - -(_Stephen looks relieved, Bamford sits. Their positions reproduce those -of Stephen and Walter at the opening._) - -Ste. (_taking his pipe from the mantelpiece_). I'll have a pipe, if you -don't mind. Well, what's up with you? - -Bamford (_jerking his thumb towards the left door_). It's about her. - -Ste. Aye? Well, I like a man that comes to the point sharp. - -Bamford. Perhaps you wouldn't call me a marrying man? (_Sitting below -fire._) - -Ste. You've not done it yet that I know of. - -Bamford. Never too late to mend. I'm a bit struck with that daughter of -yours, Verity. - -Ste. I noticed you were when I mentioned she had money. - -Bamford. Well, I'm the last man to deny that money's a very important -thing in life. - -Ste. It's a useful thing to have about the house. - -Bamford. I was thinking we might come to an arrangement. - -Ste. It's not impossible.. - -Bamford. Eh! - -Ste. Only she's a bit young. - -Bamford. Meaning to say I'm a bit old, eh? I'm sound and hearty. - -Ste. So's t'other fellow, and more her age. - -Bamford (_rising_). The other fellow?' - -Ste. (_remaining seated_). Aye. You thought you were being smart, didn't -you? Seeing a good thing and dashing at it prompt; but you're the second -man to come to me to-night over Lucy, for all that. - -Bamford (_anxiously_). Is she promised? - -Ste. No. . - -Bamford (_relieved_). Ah! - -Ste. The man that weds my daughter takes a tidy bit of money with her. - -Bamford. It'll find some more of its own kidney if she brings it to me. - -Ste. To tell you the truth, Sam, I'm not struck on the idea of losing -her at all. But she's got a fancy in her head and it's one I don't -cotton to. Best cure might be to put you there instead and be sure of -her not making a fool of herself. - -Bamford. Then I'm not too late. (_Sits again._) - -Ste. You're the best man up to now. - -Bamford. Well---- - -Ste. See here, Sam. It's like this. That girl can look high. Question -is, are you high enough? - -Bamford. Which way? - -Ste. Money. - -Bamford. Depends what you call high. - -Ste. Yes... (_half apologetically._) I've a right to know before I put -it to her. - -Bamford (_after slight hesitation_). Well, I'll tell you this: you know -what my father left? - -Ste. Yes. - -Bamford. There's more to-day. (_They exchange looks._) - -Ste. (_rising with resolution_). That 'ull do. (_Opens left door._) -Lucy, come back a minute. - -Bamford (_rises in alarm_). I'm not what you call a parlour ladies' man. - -Ste. I'll stand by you. - -(_Enter Lucy._) - -Now then. (_Crosses r._) - -Lucy. You want me? - -Ste. (_indicating Bamford_). He does. - -Bamford (_awkwardly_). Yes, I do, Miss Verity. That's just what I do. I -want you. - -(_Lucy is puzzled._) - -Ste. (_looking at her_). Well? - -Lucy (_turning from one to the other_). You want me. I'm here. What do -you want me for? - -Bamford (_l._). For better or for worse. (_Giggling genially._) - -Lucy (_freezing_). I don't understand you. - -Ste. (_roughly_). Don't play stupid now. You understand him well enough. - -Lucy. But---- (_Looking appealingly at Stephen._) - -Ste. Here's your chance, my girl. Here's your answer to the other -fellow. - -Lucy. I have given him my answer. - -Ste. Well, you can give, Mr.. Bamford his and say yes. He's got money. - -Bamford (_eagerly_). Yes, I've got money and I spend it. I'll give you -the time of your life. - -Lucy. Don't spoil this evening for me, Mr. Bamford. You've made me so -happy, so grateful to you all for letting me help in your charity. I -only knew to-night how rich I am. It frightened me--the thought of so -much money. I was afraid of it... of my unworthiness. Until you showed -me the way to use it well. I was proud that I... and now... father, this -isn't fair of you. - -Ste. What isn't fair? - -Lucy. Why didn't you tell Mr. Bamford? (_To Bamford._) I'm engaged. - -Ste. (_r.c._). Don't lie. You're not. - -Lucy (_bravely_). I choose to consider myself engaged. - -Ste. He's a pauper. Look here, my girl, you're rebellious to-night. I'm -master here. I'm not the sort of fool to let you twist me round your -little finger. Don't think because you're twenty-one and got a thousand -a year (_the sum moves Bamford visibly_) that you'll ride rough-shod -over me. (_More gently._) You've got to be sensible. (_Smacks table._) -You've got to do what I tell you. - -Bamford. You shall have your carriage and dress yourself as much as you -like; and what's more, marry me and you'll be. Mayoress of Carrington in -November. - -Ste. Wait a minute, Bamford, not so fast. - -Bamford. What's the matter? - -Ste. (_crossing l._). Engaged, if you like, but no wedding till the -Polygon deal's complete. The profits on that are mine. - -Bamford. Of course they are. I'll hand over your share when we've sold -to the town. - -Lucy. Sold! Profit! I thought---- - -Ste. Never mind what you thought. (_Goes up to Lucy._) That wasn't meant -for your ears. You'd better go back to the other room now. I'll talk to -you after Mr. Bamford's gone. (_Indicating her to exit._) - -Lucy. I hope. Mr. Bamford will remember I'm engaged. - -Ste. He'll remember you're going to be--to him. (_Crosses down r. above, -table._) - -Lucy. Father, I've obeyed you long enough. I'm twenty-one now, and I'm -going to take my own way. - -Bamford (_doubtfully_). I don't like the look of this, Verity. - -Ste. Look of what? - -Bamford. She's a bit of a Tartar, isn't she? - -Lucy. That's nothing to what I can do when I'm roused, Mr. Bamford. - -Ste. Pssh! It's the first time she's broken out like this. She'll be -tame enough next time you come. - -Lucy (_viciously_). Don't make too sure of that. - -Ste. I'm not afraid of that. It's a pity if a man can't do as he likes -with his own flesh and blood. - -Bamford (_warily_). Best sleep on it before you say more, Verity. - -Ste. (_going to Lucy_): Yes. Go to bed, Lucy, and say over to yourself, -I'm going to marry Mr. Bamford. Then you'll get used to the idea. - -Lucy. But I'm not. - -Ste. Aren't you? We'll see. - -Lucy. Yes, we will. (_At exit l._) - - -CURTAIN. - - - - -ACT III - -_Archibald Vining's house in the Polygon the following afternoon. The -room is large and lofty with the air of serene mellowness common to old -houses. The door is r., behind the large mantelpiece. Behind is a French -window, beyond which the-garden is seen. The room is panelled; its -incidental trappings suggest occupants hardly able to live up to their -surroundings; the furniture is faded; the carpet worn. Walter sits on -a chair to the r. of the window against the wall. Down l. is his father -Augustus Montgomery at an escritoire. On a large settee placed crosswise -l. sit Mrs. Montgomery and Mrs. Vining. Archibald Vining is posed with -an elbow on the mantelpiece, looking across at Montgomery. The ladies -gaze at him with admiration. Montgomery Senior is sixty, rather bald, -weak-faced, futile, dressed in light grey morning coat and trousers. -Vining is ruddy, irascible, with white moustache and grey hair, in black -morning coat and grey trousers. The women are both rather foolish. Mrs. -Montgomery is stout and Mrs. Vining lean, but there is otherwise not -much to choose between them in age, which is about fifty, or anything -else. Their dress is conventional without being fashionable or -expensive. They live next door and Mrs. Montgomery has come in without -a hat. The light is of a sunny afternoon and there is no fire. Marjorie -Vining, a tall athletic girl, sits by the window c., with a tennis -racket, looking, increasingly bored._ - - -[Illustration: 0093] - - -Vining (_dictating_). "Your rumoured intention to sell the Polygon"--got -that, Montgomery? - -Montgomery. Yes. (_Looking up timidly._) Excuse me, Vining, I can't help -saying it again, but are you quite sure we form a quorum? - -Vin. (_assertively_). Of course we do, my dear fellow. Don't distress -yourself. - -Mont, (_desperately_). But--but there are five houses in the Polygon and -only two are represented here. - -Vin. We know the views of the rest. - -Mrs. Vin. Their views are ours. - -Vin. Quite so. Allow for unavoidable absentees, and your scruples -vanish. Shall I proceed? - -(_Approval from settee. Montgomery bends and writes._) - -"Dear Sir,--At an indignation meeting of your tenants in the -Polygon----" - -(_Montgomery writes at intervals, when others talk._) - -Mrs. V. Archibald, have we any right to be indignant with Sir Charles? - -Vin. We _are_ indignant, aren't we? - -Mrs. V. Yes. But will Sir Charles quite like us to tell him so? - -Mont, (_pathetically_). It's deucedly--beg pardon--it's hard to be -diplomatic. How would "protest meeting" do? - -Vin. Too political. Let "indignation" stand. We must show him he's -roused the sleeping lion. - -Mont, (_acquiescent_). I'll underline it if you like. - -Vin. No! No! Firmness, my dear Monty, firmness, not ostentation. - -Mrs. M. (_gushingly to Mrs. Vining_). What a man of affairs Mr. Vining -is! - -Vin. (_filling his chest_). I flatter myself I put things through, Mrs. -Montgomery. Now, Monty! - -Mont. (_reading_). "At the indignation meeting--um--held on the--um--it -was resolved to respectfully address----" - -Mrs. V. Oh! - -Vin. (_reprovingly_). Well, Cecilia? - -Mont, (_puzzled_). That's in order, I think. - -Vin. Quite. Go on. - -Mrs. V. But, Archibald, to address a split infinitive to a baronet! - -Vin. I stand corrected. Thanks, Cecilia. - -Mont. I don't quite see---------- - -Vin. (_moving him to write_). It was resolved respectfully to -address---- - -Mont, (_correcting and reading_). To address a letter to you on the -subject of your rumoured intention to sell the Polygon. - -Vin. Correct, I think? (_Approval from the settee._) - -Mont. (_proceeding_). It is our hope that should this information -be correct, bracket, which we hesitate to believe, bracket, you will -reconsider your decision to give over to the hands of the jerry builder -the only residences in Carrington habitable by persons of refinement. - -Vin. Excellent. (_Approval from settee. Vining crosses l. to above -Montgomery and takes letter; patronisingly._) You write a clerkly hand, -Monty. (_Picks up pen._) I'll sign as the oldest resident present. - -(_Montgomery swallows a protest, remaining seated, Vining signs, bending -over._) - -What a pity Sir Charles is abroad. We shall be kept waiting for his -reply. - -Mont. You got his address from Dunkerly? - -Vin. (_putting envelope before him_). Yes. _Hotel Métropole_, Monte -Carlo. - -(_Montgomery writes and encloses letter. Vining goes to French window -and opens it._) - -I'll have this posted at once. (_Calls._) Pilling! - -(_He returns. Montgomery crosses r. and sits above fireplace._) - -Mont. Ah, well! That's settled.. - -Vin. (_sitting at desk_). Yes. - -Mar. (_rises_). Jolly glad to hear it. I'm fed up. Come out and play -tennis, Walter. (_Puts chair down c._) - -Walter. Not this afternoon, Marjorie. - -Mar. Oh, be a sport. - -Walter. Some other time. - -Mar. It's always some other time with you, now. I'm forgetting what you -look like in flannels. You'll lose all your form if you don't practice a -bit. - -Walter. I'm afraid I must let it go. (_Rises and crosses l._) - -Mar. It's pure slacking. Don't be so beastly serious, if you are in -Orders. Come and be a muscular Christian on the lawn. - -Walter. Something more serious to-day, Marjorie. Mar. Oh, rot! What's -the good of having the courts if you don't use 'em? - -Mont. They certainly might be used more by you young people. - -Walter. They might be used by hundreds of people if---- - -Mar. Oh, blow, you're getting on your hobby horse again. I'm going to -practice putting if you won't give me a game. You are a rotter. - -(_Exit Marjorie c. to l. Pilling appears c. from l. in his -shirt-sleeves._) - -Vin. (_closes desk and crosses up l.c._). Oh, Pilling, just post this -letter at once. Are your hands clean? - -Pilling (_inspecting his very black hands_). Not very, sir. - -Vin. Go and wash them and come back for it. - -Pilling. Yes, sir. - -(_Pilling vanishes to r. Vining crosses to fire._) - -Mrs. M. I can't understand Sir Charles wanting to sell at all. - -Mrs. V. No. What would Carrington be without the Polygon? - -Walter (_quietly_). I'm not sure that it wouldn't be a good deal better -off, Mrs. Vining. - -(_They all stare at him astonished._) - -Vin. What an extraordinary thing to say. Why, we _are_ Carrington. - -Mrs. V. We've always lived in the Polygon. We've taken root, -Carrington's gone on its way---- - -Vin. A precious bad way, too. - -Mont. Other times, other manners, Vining. - -Vin. Carrington has no manners--but the Polygon has stood aloof. Thank -God we leisured people have no connection with the town roughs. - -Walter. Then how can you say you _are_ Carrington? - -Vin. We are the best people in Carrington, sir. Do you judge a place by -its quality or by the counting of heads? - -Walter. I wish I could make you see their point of view, Mr. Vining. - -Vin. (_snorting_). Their point of view. - -Walter (_quietly_). They have one, you know. Before that letter goes to -Sir Charles, I'd like to try---- - -Mrs. M. Walter, remember what the Polygon means to all of us. - -Walter. It's a survival, mother. It's out of date in the midst of a -modern manufacturing town. - -Mont, (_pathetically_). But--but, Walter, it means so tremendously much -to us all. It may be out of date, but I did hope it was going to last -our time. - -Vin. It's _got_ to last our time. (_Sincerely._) I'm not a deeply -religious man, but I get reverent when I think of the Polygon. - -Mrs. M. That's just it. We all love the Polygon. - -Mrs. V. The five houses. - -Mont. Chatsworth. - -Mrs. V. Apsley House. - -Mrs. M. Marlborough Lodge. - -Vin. Kenilworth and Abbotsford. - -Mont. And our gardens. - -Vin. And the tennis ground in the middle. - -Walter. Which nobody uses except Marjorie. - -Mrs. V. Are we to lose it _all?_ - -Vin. (_with appropriate chest expansion_). Not if Archibald Vining can -prevent it. - -Walter. You make it very hard for me to go on. - -Vin. Then don't go on. - -Walter. (_crosses c._). I must. Father, Mr. Vining, you--all of you--are -wrapped up in the Polygon. You hardly go out of it except to the -station. | - -Mont. There's nothing else in Carrington to go to. - -Vin. Thank goodness we've no business to take us into those mean -streets. - -Walter. You haven't, Mr. Vining, but I have. I see the other side of the -picture, if you don't. - -Vin. Well, my dear boy, every town has its back stairs. - -Walter (_sits c._). Carrington's all back stairs, and cramped stairs -they are. There's no breathing space. What right have we to monopolize -the air? We've room to move about--so much room that you need never go -out of the Polygon. - -Mont. We pay for the privilege, don't we? - -Walter. Yes, you pay for it in money and they pay for the lack of it in -health. - -Mont. If there's overcrowding it's a matter for the town authorities to -deal with. - -Walter. They want to deal with it. They want the Polygon. - -Vin. They can't have it. They must know it 'ud be cutting off their nose -to spite their face. The Polygon's essential to Carrington. - -Walter. Why? - -Vin. It _is_ Carrington. I tell you this, young man, Carrington's -last state would be worse than its first if you took us away. We--we -circulate money. We give the place a tone. - -Walter. It's a tone the place could do without. It could do without -your money. We are not Carrington. The factories are the essential -Carrington. Mr. Vining, (_rising and taking a step to r. c._) let me -show you what it's like--whole families living--no, not living--pigging -in a single room. Rooms cut up amongst two or three families. All in -Carrington, our neighbours in Christian Carrington. - -Vin. Thanks. I'm not the sort of man to put my head into a noose. I -prefer to keep out of infection. - -Walter (_appealingly_). Don't send that letter to Sir Charles. Don't try -to influence his decision. The workpeople can't move out of the town. -They must live near their work. You can move. Dividends can reach you -anywhere just as easily. - -Mrs. V. Move of ourselves! Never! - -Mrs. M. Walter, you don't understand what you're asking us to do. You're -young. You can change easily, because you're young and restless. But -when you've lived in a house that's dear to you till it's become part of -your life, you can't leave it in your old age. - -(_Walter crosses above settee._) - -Mont. I can't leave my garden. You know that. No other garden would mean -the same to me. - -Vin. My dear friends, you needn't worry. Carrington would never let -us go. Walter's got hold of the wrong end of the stick. We're an -institution. - -Walter. How do you know? Did you ever ask them what they think of us? - -Vin. I'll ask Pilling. You'll see. (_Crosses up c._) - -Walter. I shouldn't advise you to. I know Pilling's home. He's a wife -and child. They all live in one room. - -Vin. Why, I pay the man twenty-two shillings a week. What does he live -like that for? - -Walter. He's no choice. Pilling 'ull tell you what Carrington thinks of -the Polygon. - -Vin. He's a long time washing his hands. (_Goes up to window and looks -off r._) - -Walter. But you're not going to send that letter now. - -Vin. Certainly we are. (_Returns r.c._) - -Walter. But---- - -Mont. I think we're all agreed on that? - -Vin. Quite. No stone unturned. That fellow who's coming, what's his -name--you know, Walter--that alderman---- - -Walter. Verity? - -Vin. Verity. That's it. We must make sure of the town authorities. A -little affability goes a long way with people of that sort. - -Mrs. V. Yes. He's not the type of man you're accustomed to meet in my -drawing-room, Mrs. Montgomery, still---- - -Mont. It's in a good cause, Mrs. Vining. - -Mrs. M. He's an architect, isn't he? - -Walter. He's a builder who's his own architect. That's why his houses -fall to pieces. - -Mrs. M. That's what I say. An architect. Almost a professional man. - -Walter. But you mustn't pin your faith on Verity. He's, the last man---- - -Vin. Walter, as a Churchman, I am always willing to accept your views on -religious matters. But when it comes to worldly questions, permit me to -have an opinion of my own. - -(_Pilling appears and knocks on the window without advancing into the -room._) - -Oh, Pilling! - -Pilling (_in c.o._). Yes, sir? - -Vin. Come in. - -(_Pilling advances a foot and stands awkwardly near the window._) - -Pilling. Letter ready, sir? - -Vin. (_absently_). Yes, yes. (_Montgomery rises gets letter from -mantel; hands it to Vining._) There you are. - -(_Up to Pilling, who turns to go._) - -One moment, Pilling, I want to ask you something. Can you tell me how -people in the town talk of the Polygon? - -Pilling. How they talk, sir? - -Vin. Yes. What's the general opinion of us? Pilling. It's not for the -likes of me to talk against the gentry. - -Walter. They _do_ talk against us, then? - -Pilling (_awkwardly_). Well, sir----- (_He pauses._) - -Walter (_helping him out_). Tell them how you live, Pilling. - -Pilling. You can tell that as well as me. - -Vin. (_impatiently_). Yes, yes, but that's not the point. Doesn't your -class feel what a privilege it is to have us living in your midst? - -Pilling (_earnestly_). _I'd_ be badly off without you, sir. - -Vin. You'd be sorry to lose us, eh? - -Walter. Of course _he_ would. A gardener's no use if there's nothing to -garden. Only Carrington's not a garden city. It's a manufacturing town. - -Mont. (_with back to fire, to Pilling_). Supposing now you weren't a -gardener? - -Vin. Yes. What's the common view of us? - -Pilling. Well, sir, it 'ud seem to me against nature if the town had no -quality in it. - -Vin. (_turning triumphantly to Walter_). You see? (_Patronising -Pilling._) You're perfectly right, Pilling. I've noticed it before. -(_Talking at the ladies._) The masses always have this instinctive -clinging to their superiors. They know we're the source of all -prosperity. - -Pilling (_shyly_). There's queer talk, sometimes, sir. _I_ know -gentlemen are different from us, but there's men in this town wanting to -tell me we're all born equal--asking your pardon, sir. - -Mrs. V. You know better than that, Pilling. - -Pilling. Yes, mum. - -Vin. You could never get on without us. - -Pilling. No, sir. - -Walter. Be honest, man. No one's going to hurt you for it. Tell us the -truth, about the overcrowding and the waste of valuable space in the -Polygon. - -Mrs. V. Yes. Tell us the truth, Pilling, and say you know how necessary -we are. - -Pilling. You're bread and butter to me, mum, and I know it. - -Vin. There you are, Walter. - -Walter (_impatiently_). But he's an exception. He's - -Vin. (_interrupting_). You've got the letter, Pilling. - -Pilling. Yes, sir. (_Turning, then courageously._) There's no denying as -the overcrowding's something cruel. I wouldn't say a word of it, not to -you, sir, if I didn't know and see and suffer it. - -(_Montgomery sits again below fire._) - -Vin. That'll do, Pilling. - -Pilling. Yes, sir. (_Turns to go._) - -Walter (_to Vining, crossing above sofa c._). You heard that. Won't you -wait? Wait till Verity's been. You'll catch the same post. - -Vin. (_pause_). Give me the letter, Pilling, I'll keep it back a little. - -Pilling. Yes, sir.. - -(_Exit Pilling, c._) - -Walter. Thank you, Mr. Vining. - -(_Maid announces Mr. Verity. Maid withdraws Stephen is dressed as Act -II, and very sure of himself, except at odd moments._) - -Vin. (_patronisingly_). Ah, Mr. Verity. Pleased to see you. -(_Advancing._) - -Ste. (_up R. c., shaking hands; very formally_). How do you do? - -Vin. You know us all, I think? - -Ste. (_dryly_). By sight. - -Vin. (_hurriedly_). Yes. Sit down, won't you? (_Sits above fire._) - -(_Stephen does so, uncomfortably, c. Walter stands R. end of settee._) - -Now come to business, Mr. Verity. - -Ste. Yes? - -Vin. What we want to see you about is this confounded rumour of the -Polygon's being up for sale for building lots. No doubt you've heard it? - -Ste. I've heard tell of it. - -Vin. Have you thought about it at all? - -Ste. I've thought a lot. - -Mont. Well, what do you think, Mr. Verity? Could anything be more -absurd? - -Ste. (_nodding his head towards Walter_). Ask him. He knows what I -think. - -Walter. Mr. Verity's of my opinion, father. Vin. We don't want -your opinion, sir. You're full up with all sorts of idiotic modern -sentimentalism about the poor. It all comes of the Church meddling with -secular matters instead of minding its own business. Mr. Verity's a man -of sense. - -Ste. Thank you; but I don't know that I can do anything. - -Mrs. M. (_sweetly_). Oh, but I'm sure you can, Mr. Verity. You've such -influence in the town. You're a man of weight. - -Ste. If I am, madam, what had the town to do with Sir Charles selling -the Polygon? - -Mont. How can the town get on without the Polygon? - -Mrs. M. I'm sure you, as an architect, Mr. Verity, must feel the -importance of preserving such fine examples as these are of old Georgian -mansions. - -Mrs. V. So many links with the historic past. - -Vin. (_impatiently_). It 'ud be a blue ruin for the town. - -Mont. Sheer catastrophe. You're a leading personage here, Mr. -Verity--alderman and so on. Of course you have the interest of the town -at heart. - -Ste. (_with faint irony_). As much as you have yourselves, I dare say. - -Vin. (_recovering first from the slight general embarrassment_). Er, -yes. Now, don't you think a petition from the Town Council to Sir -Charles might do the trick? You see, the Polygon's the backbone of the -place. I can't for the life of me imagine what Sir Charles is thinking -of. - -Ste. The price. - -Mrs. V. Now, that's ungenerous of you, Mr. Verity. Sir Charles would -never be so selfish. - -Ste. (_stolidly_). Think not? - -Mrs. V. He wouldn't turn us out for money. (_Vining and Montgomery are -not so sure._) - -Ste. It's hard times for the rich. - -Mont. (_timidly_). Yes, I suppose it is. - -Ste. (_with aggression_). It is. I know. I'm rich. - -Vin. (_pompously_). I agree with you. We people of independent means -have been hard hit lately. What with the differential income tax and the -super tax, we---- - -Ste. We all think we'd like to pay the super tax, don't we? - -Vin. Er--yes--we can rely on your sending that petition then? - -Ste. Can you? - -Mont. I thought you said so. - -Ste. I don't remember. - -Vin. Dash it, Verity, we men of property must hang together. In a little -matter of this sort I'm sure you'll come in with us. - -Ste. Yes? Well, I'm sorry to disoblige you. - -Mrs. M. But surely as an architect---- - -Ste. (_interrupting_). Now it's no use of you talking. I've said my say. - -Mont. But you must have some reason. This is really most extraordinary. - -Ste. Is it? What's extraordinary in a man getting back a bit of his own? - -Vin. Have we offended you, Mr. Verity? I'm very sorry. You speak as if -you had some grudge against us. - -Ste. Grudge? I hate the sight of you if that's your meaning. - -Mont, (_rising_). This is simply staggering. Why, Mr. Verity, we've -always been good neighbours, I hope. - -Ste. (_still sitting_). You've kept yourselves to yourselves, if that's -what you call being good neighbours. Who've you been good neighbours to? -The shopkeepers? You don't deal with them if you can help it. London's -your mark when you've money to spend, and that's not every day of the -week. How often have you got your hand down for a local charity? Folks -get sick and tired of coming to ask. You buttoned up your pockets so -tight. - -Vin. Other people, at least, don't share your views, sir. - -Ste. Ask 'em. (_Rising._) You silly little set of genteel paupers, who -did you think you were? (_Ladies rise._) We weren't good enough for you. -You lived in the Polygon; we lived in the town, and you held your noses -too high to see us if you met us, which wasn't often, because you stuck -inside your private preserve and didn't have truck with us vulgar folk -outside. We weren't your class. You patronising snobs, do you fancy -I can't see through your getting me here and soaping me to send your -petition from the town for you? The town can go to blazes for all you -care, so long as you're left alone in your nice big gardens. - -Vin. (_rises and goes up to door R._) Mr. Verity, I'm sorry to have to -remind you there are ladies present. - -Ste. I can see 'em. That's why I'm letting you down so easy. I'd let it -rip if you'd the courage to turn 'em out and meet me man to man. - -Mrs. M. (_moving towards door_). We'll go. - -Mont, (_r., timidly_). I'd rather you didn't, my dear. - -Ste. Yes. He'd rather you stayed, and kept a stopper on my tongue. - -(_Vining opens door and signs to ladies to go._) - -Walter (_coming to r. of Verity_). No, mother. Mr. Verity, don't let us -lose our tempers about this. It's too important for petty feelings. - -Vin. (_indignantly_). Petty feelings, indeed! - -(_The ladies stand by door, irresolute._) - -Walter (_appealingly_). Oh, don't split hairs over words. The town's -crying for fresh air and health. The town wants to buy the Polygon. - -Mont. The town does? - -Walter. Yes, didn't you know? - -Vin. (_looking at Stephen_). So it's the town? - -Walter (_as Stephen doesn't answer_). Yes. - -Mrs. M. (_up by door, r., dropping to Montgomery by fire_). Augustus, -don't you think, after all, we ought perhaps to---- (_Hesitating._) - -Vin. (_l. c. fiercely_). To what, Mrs. Montgomery? - -Mrs. M. Well, I'm sure there's something in what Mr. Verity and Walter -say. (_Sits in armchair above fire._) - -Mont. Come, this is weakness, my dear. - -Vin. No compromise, Mrs. Montgomery. - -Mrs. M. I shall never feel at ease again when I think of the -overcrowding in the town. - -Vin. Then don't think of it. - -Mrs. M. I can't help thinking of it now. - -Mont, (_to Walter_). Oh, dear, I do wish you'd kept your mouth closed. - -Walter. And my eyes closed, and my nose closed, and gone about -Carrington without looking at it. No, father, I meant to stir your -conscience, and I'm glad I've done it. (_Sits._) - -Vin. Well, I must admit--hang it, Verity, if people are crowded why -don't you build 'em houses? It's your trade. - -Ste. No land. - -(_About here Pilling appears c. with some garden stuff in his hand, and -Mrs. Vining exit with him for some consultation._) - -Vin. There's land enough outside. Why can't the town expand outwards? To -hear you talk about the Polygon the town might have a wall round it. - -Mont. Yes, there's lots of moorland about the place. - -Ste. Quite so. Lots of moor. - -Mont. Well, then! - -Ste. Shooting moor. Sir Charles' shooting moor. - -Vin. Well, what difference do a few acres more or less make to a -shooting moor? Surely he'd rather sell you some of that. - -Ste. Think so? - -Mont. I'm certain of it. - -Ste. (_sitting on settee_). You're wrong, then. He's holding on for -a rise. He's held on to this till the value went up. Land here in the -centre's' worth more, than land outside. This is ripe. The other isn't. -That's why he'll sell this. - -Vin. (_r. c._). Well, if that's really so---- - -Ste. (_grimly_). It's really so. - -Vin. (_with-an air of finality_). All I can say is I shall most -certainly have to revise my opinion of Sir Charles. (_Crosses down L._) - -(_Pilling is visible through the window working a mowing machine in the -garden; he passes and repasses at intervals._) - -Ste. Did you think your tin pot rents paid Sir Charles to let land like -this lie idle? - -Mont. He likes to have us here. We're desirable tenants. - -Ste. Pardon me. As a property owner I know. Desirable tenants are paying -tenants. - -Vin. Do you insinuate that we don't pay? - -Ste. You don't pay a profitable price. He can make a little gold, mine -of the Polygon. Land values in the town have been going up all the time. -He's cute enough to know it, or his agent is. The only question is, will -our price tempt him or is he able to be greedy and wait a bit longer -till the land's worth more. - -Mont. And you mean to tell me we've been living on the edge of a volcano -all these years? - -Ste. You've been living in Sir Charles' almshouses for decayed -gentlefolk. That's our name for it in the town. - -Vin. Sir! - -Ste. (_calmly_). It's the truth. What did it matter to him how little -he got out of you meantime? He knew very well it's a fortune waiting for -him whenever he wants it. - -Mont. I'd no idea of this. (_Sits below fire._) - -Ste. You know now. If you hadn't been so busy with thinking what nice -people you were and what nasty brutes lived outside you'd have found it -out for yourselves. Not one of you's on lease. You can all be turned out -at six months' notice. - -Vin. We trusted to Sir Charles' sense of honour. - -Ste. I wouldn't trust him with sixpence, and I'm a sound Tory at that. - -Vin. I still think you're wrong, sir. You've given us your view. We're -much obliged. (_Sits l._) - -Ste. (_sneering_). You'd be more obliged if I'd given you your petition. - -Vin. Your view was unexpected. - -Ste. Was it? (_Turning to Walter._) I thought he'd told you. - -Vin. Unexpectedly strong. - -Ste. You've not heard the half of it. You've been the bane of the town. -It's a working town and it does the working man no good to have the -sight of a lot of idle people living well and doing nothing for it. -Breeds discontent. Makes him ask questions. That's what you've been to -us. A public nuisance. Easy game for every agitator to have his shy at. -Do you think we employers loved you? They didn't mind us. They could see -we worked for our living. But you set of do-nothing wastrels---- - -Walter (_c._). Mr. Verity! (_Vining rises and goes up to back, returns, -then round to R. c._) - -Ste. What's to do? You've been saying the same to them yourself, haven't -you? - -Walter. I did my best to gild the pill. - -Ste. Well, I'm not a parson. I haven't the gift of using big words for -little 'uns and talking sweetly about Hell. - -Vin. (_dropping r. of Walter to below him_). Well, now look here, Mr. -Verity, you needn't suppose that I'm influenced in the slightest by your -extremely forcible language, but a possible compromise occurs to me. - -Ste. Does it? I thought I heard you say just now "no compromise." - -Vin. (_r. c._). This is a compromise of my own suggesting, sir. - -Ste. I'm not the compromising sort. Still, go ahead. What's your idea? - -Vin. It's this, sir. I grant you we're drones, and I can see there's -something in what you say about the sight of a few idle people taking a -lot of room, though I take exception to the way you put it. - -Ste. (_drily_). Aye. - -Vin. (_r. c._). Now we've an affection for these houses of ours. - -Ste. Of Sir Charles'. - -Vin. Yes, of Sir Charles'. We're attached to the bricks and mortar. You -can understand it. - -Ste. I never thought you'd shift willing. - -Vin. Just so. We're not willing to shift. But my idea is this. We're all -old people, and our families have married off. There's no young blood -in the Polygon, except Walter here and my daughter, to use those tennis -courts and croquet lawns of ours. They're pleasant to walk about in and -it's a real sacrifice to part with them. But I propose writing to Sir -Charles suggesting that if (_crossing to l. c. and back; returns to l. -for end of speech_) he cares to sell you some building land outside the -town we will sacrifice our lawns for a park if he will leave our bricks -and mortar standing till--till we old fogies have done with them. How -does that strike you, Mr. Verity? - -Ste. It strikes me your motto will do for me as Well as for you. - -Vin. My motto? - -Ste. No compromise, Mr. Vining. - -Walter. Mr. Verity, surely it's a fair offer. It's generous. It's---- - -Ste. Indeed! If that's your notion of generosity---- - -Vin. It's my last word. - -Ste. (_rises_). Then I need stay no longer. (_Moves towards door._) - -Walter (_rises_). Oh, but---- - -(_Maid announces, "Miss Verity." Enter Lucy. Exit Maid._) - -Ste. You! What are you doing here? - -Lucy (_crosses up r. c._). I came to see Walter. - -Ste. But--I locked you up. - -Lucy. As you see, I've escaped. - -Walter. Locked you up! - -Lucy. Oh, yes. Father does things like that. - -Ste. Come home, girl. - -Lucy. Not yet. I'm a rebel to-day. You locked me up because I refused to -marry Mr. Bamford---- - -Walter. What! - -Lucy. And I've escaped to tell the truth about you and---- - -Ste. Hold your tongue. - -Lucy. No. I'm going to tell Walter all I know. - -Ste. (_sneering_). He's welcome to all _you_ know. - -Lucy. He's welcome to all I know and all I am. - -Mrs. M. Walter, what does this mean? (_Rises._) - -Vin. I have never heard a more immodest speech. - -Walter. Miss Verity and I are engaged. - -Ste. You're not. You agreed last night that you weren't. - -Lucy. That was before you had thrown me at Bamford's head. I'm engaged -to Walter, and I've things to tell him, things I've discovered about---- - -Ste. Be quiet, will you. - -Lucy. No. This is no time for concealment. We've got beyond all that. - -Ste. You've nothing to conceal. - -Lucy. Then why do you try to stop my mouth? - -Ste. I don't. I'm here on business. I've no time for girls' foolishness. -Vining, can we go somewhere to draft that letter? (_Crosses down to -Vining._) - -Vin. Letter? What letter? - -Ste. The compromise. - -Vin. I thought you said---- (_Crossing slowly._) - -Ste. Never mind what I said. Shall we go? Lucy. Yes, go, while I tell -Walter all I know. Ste. Tell him what you like now. - -(_Exit Stephen with Vining._) - - -CURTAIN. - - - - -ACT IV. - -_Verity's dining-room as Act II a week later. Bamford and Stephen enter -from r. Stephen just pocketing his watch._ - - -[Illustration: 0092] - - -Stephen. You're a bit early for the meeting, Sam. (_Crosses to c. above -table._) - -Bamford. Yes; fact is, I wanted a word with you alone about that other -matter. - -Ste. Lucy? - -Bam. (_r. c._). Aye. I'm a bit uneasy about it, Verity. - -Ste. No need to be. - -Bam. Well, I am. - -Ste. Natural enough, I dare say. When a young man's fancy turns to -thoughts of love it churns up his inside a bit. - -Bam. 'Tisn't that. I'm not a young man. (_Crosses l._) - -Ste. You're young enough for all marriageable purposes. - -Bam. I'm doubtful if I'm the right man to make that girl happy. - -Ste. You're going to be Mayor, aren't you? - -Bam. Yes. - -Ste. And you promised her a carriage? - -Bam. Yes. - -Ste. And as much dressing as she's a mind to? Bam. Yes. - -Ste. (_sits above table_). Then what's troubling you? What else does any -female woman want? - -Bam. (_sits l. of table_). Eh! I dunno! They're a grasping lot, women.. - -Ste. Damn you, Sam, do you fancy my girl's not been well brought up? -You're as good as telling me she's not good enough for you. - -Bam. Nay, I'm not; I'm only thinking I may not be good enough for her. - -Ste. I'm best judge of that. The thing's settled. We said it once, you -and I, and we're not weathervanes. - -Bam. (_resignedly_). Yes, I suppose it's settled. - -Ste. That's all right, then. - -(_Maid announces Mr. Smithson. Enter Smithson, Maid exit._) - -Ah, good evening, Smithson. (_Rises._) - -Smiths. Good evening, Verity. (_Shakes hands._) Evening, Bamford. - -Bam. Good evening. - -Ste. (_to Smithson_). Seen anything of Alcorn? Smiths. Yes. He's gone -round to the Post Office on his way here to see if a letter's been -forwarded from the London office. - -Ste. Well, sit you down. - -(_They sit at table. Stephen head, Smithson r. and Bamford l._) - -I've a bit of news for you gentlemen. - -Smiths. Yes? - -Ste. I've been paying a call--afternoon call on some friends of mine in -the Polygon. - -Bam. What! - -Ste. Take it easy, Sam. (_Chuckles._) Aye, they wanted the Council to -petition Sir Charles not to sell. Tried to get me to do it for 'em. - -Smiths. Good, that. - -Ste. Well, we'd a little talk, Mr. Vining and I, and we come to a sort -of a compromise. - -Smiths. Compromise? - -Bam. Compromise! Verity? I don't like that word. - -Ste. Finish was, they've written to Sir Charles asking him to sell the -town their grass plat--tennis courts and what-not--if he'll leave their -houses alone. - -Bam. Verity, I don't like this. Ask me, it sounds like treachery to the -company. - -Ste. Treachery be hanged. I drafted the letter myself. - -Bam. That makes it worse. - -Ste. Don't be stupid, Sam. - -Bam. (_indignantly_). Stupid! I say, Verity---- - -Ste. Put yourself in Sir Charles' place. He's got an offer, the -company's offer, cash down for the whole Polygon. - -Smiths. Aye. - -Ste. Well, say he has got a soft spot for his tenants there, old -tenants, doesn't want to turn them out, that sort of thing. - -Smiths. Quite likely. - -Ste. Then he gets their letter. Sees they're ready to lose their tennis -courts. All right, says he, if they're a slack back set of weaklings to -propose that of themselves, I shan't have any trouble in getting shut -of them altogether. Their rents aren't worth having. But the company's -offer's a sound ready cash affair. He's a bit short of the ready, isn't -he? - -Bam. Aye. Above a bit. - -Ste. So when he sees they'll shift without trouble, being weak enough -to offer a compromise before they're even asked for one, he'll take a -flying jump at our offer, and there you are. And a good afternoon's work -I call it. - -Bam. Verity, I apologize. You're the dandiest schemer I ever saw, and -I've seen some warm members in my time. - -Ste. Well, they sent for me. I didn't think this out. I just saw the -chance while I was there. - -Smiths. You don't let much pass you, Verity. - -Ste. I take my brains along when I go calling of an afternoon on my -swell friends. I'd like to bet that letter Alcorn's fetching says "Yes" -to our offer. - -Bam. It's odds on, or I'd take you. - -(_Maid announces Mr. Walter Montgomery. Enter Walter. Exit Maid._) - -Ste. Hullo! Oh, damn! - -Walter (_r. c._). Good evening, Mr. Verity. Good evening. I hope I don't -interrupt business. - -Ste. Young man, you appear to have a lot of time on your hands. - -Walter. It's an important part of my business to visit my parishioners, -Mr. Verity. - -Ste. Humph! Our turn for your parochial attentions soon comes round -again. You were here a week ago. - -Walter. On my own business that time, sir. - -Ste. What is it this time? - -Walter. You're sure I'm not interrupting you? - -Ste. I'm sure you are. Go on. - -Walter. I've come to put you on your guard. You led me to suppose, and I -in turn told Mr. Vining, that the town authorities were proposing to buy -the Polygon. - -Ste. And aren't they? - -Walter. As an Alderman you ought to know that better than I do. - -Ste. Never mind what I know. The question is, what do you know? - -Walter. Oh, we fellows who go into the Church don't know much. You told -me yourself we go there because we're chicken-hearted fools without an -ounce of sense or fight in us. - -Bam. Can't you make him cut the cackle, Verity? - -Walter. Cackling's a professional failing, Mr. Bamford. We get the -talking habit in the pulpit. - -Bam. You're not in the pulpit now. - -Walter. No, sir. In the pulpit I'm in good company--my own. - -Bam. What the---- - -Walter. In this room I'm in the company of certain members of a rascally -syndicate who hope to buy the Polygon cheap from Sir Charles and sell -dear to the town when they've carefully engineered a public demand. - -Smiths. Who told you? - -Ste. Tch, Smithson! Where the devil did you raise this cock and bull -story? - -Walter. Oh, I don't think it was the devil. On the _contrary_, in fact, -Mr. Verity. - -Ste. Come to facts. - -Walter. Facts? Shall I give you names? (_Strolls round back to -fireplace._) I regret the absence of Mr. Alcorn and Miss Verity, -but--well, gentlemen, you're found out. - -Ste. (_pause_). And if we are? (_Rises._) - -Smiths, (_to Stephen_). And if we are, some one's blabbed. - -Bam. (_to Stephen_). And you're the only one who pays afternoon calls in -the Polygon. - -Ste. (_bending over table, beneath his breath_). Fools! (_Aloud._) Do -you think I foul my own nest? - -Bam. Then if it isn't you, who is it? Tell me that. - -(_Stephen looks first at Bamford, then Smithson, then suddenly moves to -door l. and calls._) - -Ste. Lucy! Lucy! Come here! (_Returns above table._) - -Bam. That's the worst of having a woman in the thing. They will talk. - -Ste. How could she talk? She knew nothing. - -(_Lucy enters._) - -Walter (_l._). Funny how things get about, isn't it? - -Lucy (_up l._). _Did_ you call me, father? - -Ste. (_to Walter, still ignoring Lucy_). Get about? How many have you -told? - -Walter. Oh, I've told nobody. Secrets cease to be valuable when they're -told, and I don't mind telling you this secret's going to be a valuable -lever to me. - -Ste. (_to Lucy_). You've been talking to him. - -Lucy (_up l._). Yes. I told him all you told me. - -Ste. I didn't tell you anything. - -Lucy. Oh, yes. You and Mr. Bamford. (_Stephen turns on Bamford._) - -Bam. I? I never breathed. - -Lucy. You squabbled together about the profits. - -Bam. We _did_ say something. - -Ste. And you pieced it out from that? - -Lucy. Yes. - -Bam. Um! smart girl, Verity. Chip of the old block. - -Ste. Bit too smart this time. I hope she'll never play _you_ a trick -like that. - -Bam. Yes, by Gad. I hadn't thought of that. - -Walter. Well, gentlemen? - -Ste. Oh, I'll attend to you. Look here, Sam--Smithson, I'll tackle this -chap. Just go into the other room there, will you? (_Pushes Smithson to -go below table._) I've a private word for the parson. - -Bam. Can I smoke there? - -Ste. (_r. c._). Aye. - -(_Exeunt l., Bamford and Smithson. Walter before fireplace, Lucy c, -above table, Stephen r. of table._) - -Now, Mr. Montgomery, my lad, what sort of a trick do you call this to -play on your future father-in-law? You've a queer idea of tact, you -have. - -Walter. It wasn't my intention to be tactful, sir. - -Ste. You're not improving your chances of marrying my daughter, you -know. - -Walter. How do you know I want to marry her? - -Lucy. Walter! - -Ste. Why, you told me so yourself, the other night. - -(_Lucy sits in armchair l. above fire._) - -Walter. Since then, you see, I've made discoveries. If a man is known by -the company he keeps, the same applies to a woman. The woman I'm going -to marry doesn't, help to form a robbery syndicate along with Messieurs -Alcorn, Smithson and Bamford. So if you thought to buy my silence by -giving me your daughter, you made a bad mistake. No. Bamford's the man -for her. Partners in scoundrelism, partners in life. - -(_Enter Bamford l. and crosses r. c._) - -Ste. What do you want now? - -Bam. (_apologetically, crossing r._). All right. I only want my pipe. -Left it in my overcoat. - -Walter. Mr. Bamford, I congratulate you. (_Holding out hand._) - -Bam. Eh? On what? - -Walter, On being my successful rival for the hand of Miss Verity. - -Bam. What's this? Was _he_ the other you spoke of? (_To Stephen._) - -Walter (_to Lucy_). Don't be afraid. - -Ste. Yes. - -Bam. (_to Walter_). Who told you about me? - -Walter. Oh, news soon gets round. (_Lightly._) - -Bam. (_r. c._). Does it? Well, there's two sorts of news. Correct news -and incorrect news. Both sorts gets round, but incorrect news gets round -most. See what I mean? - -Ste. (_sternly_). I don't. - -Bam. (_to Stephen_). You will. (_To Walter._) Look here, have you given -her up? - -Walter. You wouldn't have me stand in your way, would you? - -Bam. So you _have_ given her up. Why? - -Walter. Oh, I had my reasons. - -Bam. Had you now? I'd like to hear those reasons. - -Walter. That's not quite fair to the lady, I think. - -Ste. No. He's out of it. - -Bam. Is he? I take no man's leavings without I know why he left 'em. - -Walter. It's all square, man. She's yours now. - -Bam. I beg to differ. - -Ste. (_angrily_). What? - -Lucy (_rises to go_). The goods needn't be on exhibition while the sale -proceeds. - -(_Stephen points her angrily to chair l. She sits._) - -Ste. Here, sit down. Now, Sam, what's it all about? - -Bam. I'd as lief tell you when you're by yourself. - -Walter. I thought so. - -Ste. You can speak now. We're all concerned in this. - -Walter. I beg your pardon. I've ceased to---- - -Ste. (_his back to the right door_). Now, Sam? - -Walter (_sitting below fire_). Oh, very well. - -Bam. (_r. c., awkwardly_). Well, I've been thinking things over. The -married state and--well---- - -(_Hesitating._) - -Ste. (_grimly_). Yes, go on. - -Bam. (_desperately_). It means giving up too much. - -Ste. (_c._). And a good thing, too, Sam Bamford. How much longer do you -think you'll last at the pace you go? You're cracking up already--not -half the man you were. - -Lucy (_icily_). Think how nice it would be to have me for a nurse. I -warm father's carpet slippers beautifully, don't I, and my gruel's a -dream. - -Bam. There's many a long day between me and carpet slippers and gruel. I -like roving about, Verity, and that's a fact. - -Ste. Didn't you think of that before? - -Bam. I spoke hurried. - -Ste. It's time you settled down. You won't lose much that a thousand a -year and home comforts don't match. - -Bam. I'm rich enough. - -Ste. You didn't talk like that on Tuesday. - -Bam. (_irritably_). I tell you, I've thought things over. Fact is, -I didn't half like the way she answered you back. A man gets enough -worries in his working day. When he gets home he wants peace and no back -answers. - -Ste. She's all right now. It was having him asking (_indicating Walter_) -that made her proud. He's thrown her over--not good enough for him. - -Bam. And she's not good enough for me, either. I can be a bit particular -myself. I like 'em quiet. - -Ste. She's as quiet as they make 'em. - -Lucy. Father, I absolutely and finally decline to marry Mr. Bamford. - -Bam. I ask you, does that sound like a quiet life? - -Ste. Well, damme, Sam Bamford, you can't get a thousand a year without -paying a tax on it. - -Bam. You can pay too much tax if you get a woman thrown in with a razor -instead of a tongue. - -Ste. (_disgustedly_). I thought you were a man of your word. - -Bam. And I thought you cracked to be a friend of mine. - -Ste. I am your friend. - -Bam. Perhaps; but as a rule when a man's as anxious as you are to sell -an article I begin to think there's something wrong with the goods. - -Ste. Didn't I tell you on Tuesday I didn't want her to marry at all? - -Bam. Didn't Sir Charles' agent write me he wouldn't want to sell? And -you know what you said about that. - -Ste. But I'm not selling. I'm giving. - -Bam. Yes, and nobody ever knew you to give away anything worth having. -What's he given her the chuck for, if it comes to that? He knows -something. - -Walter. Yes. I know something, Mr. Bamford. - -Ste. (_raps table_). I'm not going to be played about with like this. -I never asked either of you to come after my daughter. You came because -you liked, but you'll not cry off when you like. - -Bam. What do you mean now? - -Ste. _One_ of you's going to marry her. - -Bam. It won't be me, then. I don't want any woman with a temper of her -own. - -Ste. I tell you she hasn't got a temper. - -Lucy (_rises_). I've got a tongue. - -Ste. Be quiet. - -Lucy. I won't be quiet while you wrangle over me like---- - -Ste. (_thundering_). Go to your room. I'll tame you. - -(_Lucy deliberately sits down._) - -Bam. There you are, Verity. Regular spitfire. Too late to send her away -now. I know what she is. - -Walter (_rising_). So do I. She's a monstrous woman with an abnormally -developed bump of business capacity and I absolutely decline to marry -any member of a syndicate of avaricious thieves formed to swindle---- - -Ste. (_interrupting_). She's no more business capacity than a flea and -I'll take her off the syndicate to-night, if that 'ull please you. Now -then, which of you is it to be? - -Bam. I don't wish to quarrel with you, Verity. I've told you I'm taking -none. - -Ste. (_briskly_). All right. Then you marry young Montgomery, Lucy. -(_Moves L. above table._) - -Lucy. He says he won't have me while I'm in the Syndicate. - -Ste. I'll get you out of that. - -Bam. You can't do that, Verity. (_Moves to table R._) - -Ste. Can't I? I will, though. - -Bam. You'll upset the whole thing. - -Ste. I'll look after that. - -(_Maid announces Mr. Alcorn. Enter Alcorn; exit Maid r._) - -Ste. Ah! Got the letter, Alcorn? - -Alcorn. Yes. I don't understand it. - -Ste. Just a moment. (_Opens door l. and calls._) Smithson! - -(_Enter Smithson._) - -Walter. I'd better go. - -Ste. You've no need. You know so much about it you can stay and listen -to the rest. (_Gets chair._) - -(_Stephen sits at head of table. Bamford, Smithson, Alcorn sit as in Act -II. Lucy stands r., Walter sits below fire._) - -Alcorn. Well, gentlemen, he won't sell. (_Taking out letter._) - -Ste. Refuses to sell? What does this mean? - -Smiths, (_to Bamford_). And you assured us he was broke. - -Bam. So he was, absolutely broke. I don't understand it at all. . - -Al. No more do I. Listen to this. (_Reading letter._) "I regret my -inability to entertain the offer made by your company. I have reason to -believe that owing to overcrowding the land is urgently wanted and -that the town authorities wish to deal with the matter themselves. I -am having the tennis lawns, etc., valued independently and the town may -then purchase at the valuation. I shall, however, not disturb my old -tenants in the Polygon, this letter referring only to the open space now -used as tennis lawns." Now what in thunder do you make of that? - -Ste. (_looking at Walter_). You? - -Walter. A letter to Monte Carlo only costs tuppence-halfpenny. - -Bam. But hang it, Verity, the town isn't buying. - -Ste. On the contrary, Sam, the town is. The overcrowding is a scandal. -We must have some fresh air. - -Smiths. Oh, don't talk like a blooming philanthropist again. - -Ste. I'm talking like a blooming alderman. - -Al. This isn't a town's meeting. It's a company meeting. Stick to -company business. - -Ste. The company has no further business. The company is wound up. - -Bam. Damned if it is. This letter doesn't end all. It's your fault, -Verity. You shouldn't have gone to the Polygon. You over-reached -yourself. - -Ste. This would still have happened, Sam, in any case. - -Bam. I don't see it. Why? - -Ste. Mr. Montgomery can tell you. - -Bam. Well, it's not all up. Let's have what he offers. - -Ste. He doesn't offer us anything. He offers it to the town. - -Al. And the town must buy. - -Ste. The town shall buy. - -Bam. Yes; well I said houses. Let's make it houses. Model dwellings -as ugly as hell, for the Polygon toffs to look at every time they poke -their noses out of doors. - -Ste. Don't be spiteful, Sam. We've had a licking, but don't bear malice. - -Walter. Thank you, Mr. Verity. - -Ste. Oh, I'd forgotten you were there. Oblige me by going into that room -for two minutes. You can wait in there till we're through. - -Walter. But what have I to wait for? (_Rises._) - -Ste. Sorry to occupy your valuable, time, but you're going to wait. -You'll find a fire. - -(_Exit Walter l._) - -That chap's wasted as a curate. (_Sits._) He's beaten me! Me licked by a -bricking curate! - -Al. But I don't understand. - -Ste. Oh, he got hold of our company idea, told Sir Charles and smashed -our plans. That's all. Nothing very serious. We're out of pocket for a -few expenses that won't hurt any of us, and we've missed a good piece of -plunder. Well, the thing to do now is to turn round and do the handsome -over that recreation ground. _Our_ idea for the benefit of the town! -_My_ negotiations with the Polygon! If we can't get cash by it, -gentlemen, let us get credit. - -Smiths.. And what about the rates? - -Ste. Well, what about them? More fresh air, less ill health. Less ill -health, less poverty. Less poverty, fewer paupers. That recreation -ground 'ull pay for itself in less than no time. If there's going to be -any barging about the rates we'll raise the money by subscription, and -for two pins I'll head the list myself. - -Al. It's a queer finish to our plans. - -Ste. It is a finish, Alcorn. We're knocked out, and we've got to take -it with a big, broad smile and nobody will even so much as guess we've -meant anything but the square thing all the time. - -Bam. That curate 'ull talk. Curates are always talking. - -Ste. No, he won't. - -Bam. You can't stop an old woman gossiping. Gab's a parson's -stock-in-trade. - -Ste. He's no old woman. He's a wide-awake young man and he's going to -marry my daughter--if she's free. That'll shut his mouth for him. - -Smiths. Well, we'll leave that to you, Verity. - -Ste. You can, safely. - -Al. It's been a lot of trouble all for nothing. - -(_Rises; general rise._) - -Ste. Well, we're good sportsmen, I hope, and the Carrington recreation -ground 'ull be an everlasting monument to our civic enterprise and -public spirit. - -Al. Aye, I'm beginning to feel good already. - -Smiths. It's a disappointment, Verity. Ah, well, we can't win every -time. - -Ste. No. Better luck next time. Good night, Smithson. (_Takes chair up -stage._) - -Smiths. Good night. Good night all. - -Al. I'm coming your way. - -Smiths. Come along then. (_Crosses r._) - -Al. Good night. - -(_Exeunt Smithson and Alcorn, r._) - -Bam. I'm glad they've gone. Something to put to you, Verity, private. - -Ste. About her? - -Bam. Her? No. I've said my say about that, and you need her to shut the -curate's mouth. - -Ste. I'll shut his mouth without that if you want her. It's a thousand a -year, you know. - -Lucy. The auction recommences, Mr. Bamford. - -Bam. Don't fret yourself, Miss Verity. I'm not bidding. You've had my -last word, Verity. - -Ste. Well, what's this you want to say? - -Bam. About me being mayor. That stands, of course? - -Ste. No, it doesn't. (_Above table._) - -Bam. But---- - -Ste. That was a contract made by a company that's wound up. - -Bam. But, hang it, I'd counted on being mayor. I've mentioned it to one -or two. (_Goes above table R._) - -Ste. All right, then. There's your mayoress. - -Bam. Is that the price? - -Ste. There's your mayoress. - -Lucy. I won't be haggled over. - -Bam. Miss Verity, it's not you. If I wanted to marry I dunno as I'd -look an inch further. It's--I'm not the marrying sort and that's top and -bottom of it. - -Ste. Sam, I'll be mayor myself if it's only for the fun of opening that -recreation ground to the public and making a speech about the anxious -negotiating the Council had to do before they brought off this great -scheme and conferred an inestimable boon on the deserving working -classes. - -Bam. Oh, if you're putting up for mayor, I retire. I can't fight a man -of your weight. - -Ste. Fight be hanged. We're good friends. - -Bam. Aye. You've got your man in there. - -Ste. Well! (_Pause._) Yes. - -Lucy. It's very sweet of you not to want to marry me, Mr. Bamford. - -Bam. Ask me to the wedding. - -Ste. Yes, you should be good for a thumping present after this. - -Bam. I'll stand my corner. You've to tackle the curate. I'll be off. - -Ste. Good night. - -Lucy. Good night, and thank you. - -Bam. It's _me_ that's thankful. Good night. - -(_Exit Bamford. Stephen crosses to left door, opens it and calls._) - -Ste. Now, Mr. Montgomery. - -(_Enter Walter. Lucy rises, l._) - -Walter. Well, sir? (_Crosses to r. below table._) - -Ste. (_c. above table_). Are you or are you not going to marry my -daughter? - -Walter. That depends. - -Ste. I'll tell you something. The syndicate's bust. In fact, there never -was a syndicate. - -Walter. You mustn't ask me to believe that, sir. You gave the thing away -yourself. - -Ste. (_impressively_). There never was a syndicate. A limited company -isn't a limited company till it's registered. We weren't registered. -You understand? You can't go telling people about a syndicate that never -existed. - -Walter (_smiling_). That sounds reasonable. I shan't tell. - -Ste. Yes. Well, what about my daughter? - -Walter. I thought you objected to me. - -Ste. I did. But I begin to think there's more in you than meets the eye. - -Walter. Thanks for the compliment. - -Ste. I do wish you weren't a curate, though. - -(_Crosses to fire._) There's nothing in the Church for a smart man. - -Walter. There are plenty of prizes in the Church. - -Lucy. And Walter's going to win them, father. (_Up to Walter._) - -Walter. Yes. - -Ste. He's not won much yet. - -Walter. This is all the prize I want, Mr. Verity. (_Takes her hand._) - -Ste. She's not a bad start, either. You've got round me, and it takes a -bit of doing. (_Crosses to Walter._) Look here, my lad, I come of a long -lived stock and you'll disappoint me if I don't see you a bishop before -I die. I'll come to the Palace, Lucy, and hang my hat up some day. -(_Going to exit to leave them together._) - -CURTAIN. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graft, by Harold Brighouse - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAFT *** - -***** This file should be named 55291-0.txt or 55291-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/2/9/55291/ - -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. 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