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 Another Random Document on
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back, and he breathes heavily. He falls gradually into a deep sleep.
She watches him quietly, then comes round to the right of him)
Car. (pause) Wake up! (shakes him) You mustn't sleep here.
Cray. (muttering) Want cigar!
Car. Want a cigar? But this is your letter case. (she takes it from
him, and puts it into his outside pocket R. She then sees the fallen
letter) And you've dropped something. (she picks it up—he snores)
Looks like a writ. (she glances at it) Messrs. Brampton and Stokes
(she pauses and looks at him) Ah! my first idea was right (crosses to
gas with letter round to fireplace and reads it under the gas)
"Messrs. Brampton and Stokes present their compliments to Lord
Huntworth, and would be greatly obliged if he could place them in
communication with the lady who was till very recently his wife. The
reason for the application is urgent, as information has been
received from an Australian firm of solicitors that Lady Huntworth
has succeeded to a considerable fortune through the death of an
uncle. (she again turns and looks at him) Messrs. Brampton and
Stokes would greatly appreciate an early reply. Capel Court. May
9th." More than two months ago! Ah! (slight pause, crosses to top of
table, and leans over it) Lord Huntworth, you will do me the favour
to wake up. (he snores) I thought I had said everything I had to say,
but I find I was wrong. (she stops and listens, then puts letter
hurriedly inside her dress) What's that? Did I hear the gate go?
(crosses to window, then crosses to Crayll and shakes him and pulls
him up) Wake up—you mustn't be found here. (she pulls him up)
Cray. Wha's matter?
Car. I must put you somewhere; you wouldn't be easy to explain
away. (she half-supports, half-carries him up and into scullery; when
there she allows him to droop into a sitting position against the sink;
she then shuts the scullery door) Quite like old times! (looks out of
window—brings work-box down, goes up to door and listens. Mr.
Pillenger enters)
Pil. Hum! Cook! (at door)
Car. Yes?
Pil. May I come in?
Car. Certainly! (crosses to chair R. and sits, takes out pudding cloth
and starts to hem it)
(Mr. Pillenger enters at back door.)
Pil. I—er—explained to Miss Pillenger that I thought it advisable to
return home early—as I was feeling somewhat indisposed.
Car. (looks up at him) Then you would like to go to bed? I'll let Miss
Pillenger in. (looks at door L.)
Pil. That is not necessary, I gave her my latchkey. I fear I must
admit my illness has no—er—tangible existence.
Car. Oh!
Pil. I trust I am not interrupting any—er—domestic occupation?
Car. I have to hem some pudding cloths, but I can listen while I
work. What do you want to say to me? (she begins sewing; Pillenger
crosses to top of table, puts hat down; as he crosses Cook looks at
door L.)
Pil. I—er—find some difficulty in approaching the subject. It is one
with which I have been hitherto—quite unfamiliar.
Car. Perhaps if you sat down it might be easier.
Pil. Er—thank you. (crosses to fire and stands with back to it) The
suggestion is very considerate. (he makes several efforts to begin,
but baulks himself) During the few months you have been with us—
you must have noticed that you had roused—in me—a strong feeling
—(she looks up at him) of—er—of interest?
Car. I saw it—I didn't notice it.
Pil. Exactly! (moves to back of chair L.) You would not—care—
perhaps, to give me a somewhat larger measure of your—er—
confidence—touching the—er—the past.
Car. (stops work for a moment) No; I think we'll leave the past
alone.
Pil. I may possibly persuade you to be less reticent—when I have
submitted my—er—my proposal to you.
Car. Proposal? (resumes work)
Pil. Yes. After such reasonable hesitation as should precede the
taking of any important step, I have decided to offer you an
alternative to your present life, the nature of which you may have
already guessed.
Car. (smiling back) I suppose you are the alternative?
Pil. (moves to top of table near her) Precisely. I ask you to be—er—
to be my wife.
Car. (smiles) Thanks! (stops work)
Pil. I am no longer young, but my health is good, with the exception
of a little periodic gout. My temper, if not invariably equable, is what
a long succession of curates has made it; and as to worldly
considerations, without being a rich man, my position is an
independent one.
Car. It ought to be.
Pil. I beg your pardon?
Car. You say you don't speak without consideration. Have you
considered what your sister would say?
Pil. (moves round to L.) It is a point to which I have devoted very
exhaustive attention. At first she might not welcome the idea with—
er—absolute enthusiasm. (sits L.)
Car. No, she might not. Have you also considered what the world
would say?
Pil. The world?
Car. It's rather a tolerant world where a man is concerned, but it
holds special views about clergymen, and it wouldn't stand the
notion of a vicar marrying his cook.
Pil. The social disparity between us is far more apparent than real.
Your present vocation must be the outcome of caprice—or
temporary necessity.
Car. Take it at that. (puts work in box) What do you know of me? I
may be an adventuress—in fact, most of the evidence points that
way. At any rate I have no intention of marrying. (smiles) I have said
the same thing once before this evening in reply to a similar
proposition from Gandy. (rises and crosses back of her chair and
leans on chair)
Pil. Gandy? Did he dare?
Car. He did. (smiling) This seems to be rather a susceptible
household. (crosses to window and looks out)
Pil. (rising) You haven't given me a conclusive answer?
Car. (hearing footsteps) Haven't I? I thought I had.
Pil. (crosses to C.) You may require a little time for final reflection.
Car. I think not. (looking out of window)
Pil. Nevertheless, if you will spare me your attention.
Car. One moment! I thought I heard a step on the path. (she looks
out of window) Yes, it's Captain Dorvaston.
Pil. (crosses to door and looks out, returns and takes hat from table)
You don't say so? That is highly inconvenient. What had I better do?
Car. I think you had better go to bed.
Pil. An opportunity like the present is so difficult to obtain. He will
merely pass through to his room. I'll wait in the scullery. (makes for
it)
Car. (puts hand on door) The scullery is rather in confusion. (goes
back to window and looks out)
Pil. Then the larder is probably available. (goes towards it)
Car. I really wouldn't wait if I were you.
Pil. (speaking from entrance to larder) I do so on my own initiative.
There are several arguments I wish to——
Car. (at window) He's coming.
Pil. Oh! (hastily goes in and closes larder door)
(Dorvaston simultaneously enters at garden door)
Dor. Well, Cook, I've got back. May I come in?
Car. If you like. (drops down L. Dorvaston enters and locks door after
him) You needn't have locked the door.
Dor. Don't you keep it locked?
Car. I do generally—it doesn't matter. (sits L.)
Dor. The governor was seedy and left early.
Car. Yes, he came back.
Dor. Gone to bed, I s'pose? (she is silent and has resumed her work)
I tried to think of something a bit more novel, but I couldn't, so I
had to tell the old lady I wasn't feeling fit myself.
Car. Why did you trouble?
Dor. (crosses to top of table and puts hat down) Oh, well, don't you
know, I wanted to say something to you.
Car. Yes. (stops work)
Dor. I'm a bad hand at getting my notions into words. P'raps if you
go on doing—whatever you're doing—I may manage to make a
start. (she resumes work) That ought to look exceptional pretty
when it's finished.
Car. Do you think so?
Dor. Yes! What—is it?
Car. A pudding cloth.
Dor. Jove! You don't say so? (laughs) I say, you mustn't think me an
awful ass!
Car. It doesn't matter what I think.
Dor. It matters to me.
Car. It oughtn't to matter. (pause—he takes up the weekly journal)
Dor. Been doing a bit of reading? (sits on table R. corner)
Car. No. That belongs to Keziah.
Dor. This sounds promising. (reads) "The belted Earl entered the
lists with lance in rest. His shield bore for device a bar sinister with
Fleur de Lys rampant." That ain't heraldry!
Car. Yes, it is, (looking up) "Family Heraldry." (he laughs) I don't
want to hurry you, but it's getting late.
Dor. (rises) Well, I—I hope you haven't misunderstood my—object in
—bothering you?
Car. I should like to think I had.
Dor. I don't follow.
Car. Members of your profession don't generally make an
appointment with cook in order to assure her of their respect.
Dor. Some of us may be a bit rackety, but we know a lady when we
see one, and we shouldn't treat her any different because she chose
to pretend to be a cook.
Car. Pretend?
Dor. (crosses C. and gets gradually to chair R. of table) Why, any
duffer could see—I can see you were never meant to be what you
are. These things generally come about through loss of coin—for
instance, a woman's father speculates, and the home goes biff. He
shuts up in his stride, and she takes up the running. Now what that
woman wants is a friend to give her the lead over the fences—a
friend who don't want anything from her—will you keep your eye on
that?—who don't want anything from her, but who would like awfully
to do her a turn, if she'd let him. I think that goes into the four
corners of what I wanted to say. (sits)
Car. (rising) Do you know you're a wonderfully good fellow?
Dor. Oh, rot! Well, may I be—a little use to somebody for once?
Car. I won't borrow money of you, if you meant that.
Dor. False pride!
Car. No, that isn't it.
Dor. It's a devilish odd thing that every good woman is a bit of a
coward, and she's always afraid of what people will say, especially if
it isn't true.
Car. That description fits me less than any woman in the world.
Dor. You won't let me be of use to you, because I happen to be a
man, and you happen to be a woman—ain't that so? (rises) I see
how it is. I've made an ass of myself. You won't have my help or my
friendship.
Car. (rises) I don't need the help, but I'll take the friendship.
Dor. Thanks!
Car. (shuts work-box) What I thought about you was wrong. I beg
your pardon.
Dor. Oh, that's all right!
Car. (leans on box) Now, will you do me a little favour?
Dor. Anything! (leans over table)
Car. Will you go to bed? (he backs with surprise) They mustn't come
back and find you here.
Dor. Of course not, I'll go at once; and if at any time you should
want a pal, you'll let me——
Car. Hush! (crosses to door and opens it) I fancy I heard the key in
the front door. (she listens) Yes, it is them. Miss Pillenger is saying
she wants to speak to me.
Dor. (takes up hat) By George! I'd better nip into the scullery.
(crosses to scullery)
Car. No!
Dor. The larder? (crosses to it)
Car. No. Go into the garden.
Dor. Of course! Stupid of me! (he tries the door)
Car. Make haste.
Dor. Can't get the beastly door open. Something's wrong with the
key.
Car. You'll be too late! (advances towards him)
Dor. Here! (opens door) What's this? Ah, the broom cupboard, any
port in a storm! (goes in; Cook shuts door and stands there for a
moment)
(Miss Pillenger enters.)
Miss P. Cook, I remembered I hadn't ordered to-morrow's breakfast.
(crosses and sits R. of table)
Car. No. What would you like? (crosses to top of table)
Miss P. (sitting R. of table) Has Keziah returned?
Car. Not yet.
Miss P. Both my brother and Captain Dorvaston were too unwell to
remain with us. They have doubtless gone to bed, so I will ask you
to go upstairs very quietly.
Car. Certainly! I think I hear Keziah. (she goes to back-door)
Miss P. She is very late. (pause) Why don't you open the door?
Car. The key sticks a little.
Miss P. It should be oiled. (Cook opens the door and admits Keziah,
who doesn't see Miss Pillenger)
Kez. Oh, Cook, I did enjoy myself a treat! 'E was there—and when I
come out—— (comes C. and sees Miss Pillenger) Oh lor!
Miss P. Keziah!
Kez. Yes, mum.
Miss P. Why are you so late?
Kez. I dunno, mum.
Miss P. Who is the person you spoke of when you came in?
Kez. What person, mum?
Miss P. You said distinctly he was there.
Kez. Oh, that was me sister's 'usband's brother, mum. (winks at
Cook) 'E's a plumber, and Church of England.
Miss P. You are aware I don't allow followers?
Kez. 'E don't follow me, mum. I did give 'im good evenin', bein', as
you may say, relations, and 'e told me as my sister 'as just 'ad 'er
seventh, and both doin' well, and——
Miss P. That will do. I hope you are telling the truth.
Kez. Oh yes, mum, it's gorspel, it is reely!
Miss P. Mind you go upstairs quietly; your master is unwell.
Kez. Yes, mum. (goes to door again, winks at Cook) Good night,
mum.
Miss P. Good night! (Keziah goes out) I'm afraid, Cook, you must have
had a rather dull evening.
Car. No, I haven't been dull. (puts box on window-ledge and returns)
You were going to speak about the breakfast.
Miss P. Yes. Let me see, we shall have fish. (noise in cupboard) What
was that? I heard a noise in that cupboard.
Car. It may have been a mouse.
Miss P. I didn't know we had any mice. You had better set a trap to-
morrow.
Car. You mentioned fish? Will you have it grilled?
Miss P. No, fried with egg and breadcrumbs. (noise in cupboard is
repeated more loudly) That can't be a mouse. The cat must have got
shut up in there.
Car. The cat is in the scullery.
Miss P. Then it must be a strange cat. (rises and crosses to R. C.)
Car. (going to cupboard, her hand on knob) Strange cats sometimes
fly at you. If you'll go, I'll see to it. I'm not nervous.
Miss P. (advances to cupboard) Neither am I. I prefer to see for
myself. (waves Cook back) How this door sticks. (she pulls at the
handle of the door, which at last opens, discovering Dorvaston)
Captain Dorvaston! (he comes out sheepishly; pause) May I ask you
to explain this? (Dorvaston looks first at Miss P. then at Cook—takes
his hat off)
Dor. Well, ma'am, it ain't exactly easy to make the thing clear.
Miss P. I see. (speaking at Cook) The explanation is only too obvious.
My niece has gone to her room, so I shall not disturb her to-night,
but to-morrow it will be my painful duty to tell her everything.
(moves a step to the door)
Dor. I say, ma'am, just a moment.
Miss P. (moves toward Cook and stops) As to you, Cook, I will—or,
rather, Mr. Pillenger—will speak to you in the morning.
Car. (smiling) Very well! (at top of table. Miss Pillenger moves to go
—Dorvaston intercepts her)
Dor. Look here, ma'am—upon my soul you must listen. I wanted to
say something to Cook. It was nothing—anybody might have heard
it.
Miss P. Then why conceal yourself in the broom cupboard?
Dor. I know the broom cupboard ain't easy to get out of. I could
explain better, only I feel in such an awful hat——
Miss P. You are not wearing your hat!
Dor. No, but—really, you know, I simply wanted—
Car. Captain Dorvaston, don't trouble; whatever you may say Miss
Pillenger won't believe you.
Miss P. That is true. There are things that cannot be explained away.
The broom cupboard is one of them. (going)
Dor. But I say, ma'am! (moves again)
Miss P. (motions him away) Good-night, Captain Dorvaston. (he
opens door, she goes out. Dorvaston and Cook look at each other, she
smiles)
Dor. (after pause) I've made a nice mess of it.
Car. You have rather. (closes cupboard door, returns L.)
Dor. If nature allowed a fella to kick himself, I'd do it with the
greatest pleasure. (comes to R. and puts hat down on table) To drag
you into such a beastly muddle! And I did so want to do you a turn.
Car. I know you did. You meant kindly, and I'm very grateful. Go to
bed and forget all about it.
Dor. There'll be an awful row to-morrow. I'm not thinking of myself,
I'm thinking about you.
Car. You needn't worry about me. Oddly enough, I've had news to-
night that makes this affair very unimportant. Now I must really ask
you to go.
Dor. All right, I'll be off. But, I say—you do forgive me?
Car. Of course I forgive you.
Dor. Thanks. Good-night!
Car. Good-night! (he goes to door R., then returns to table for his
hat. As he does so Pillenger cautiously emerges from the larder. The
two men face each other)
Pil. Hum! Tut, tut! (Cook turns and sits L.)
Dor. Hulloa, sir! Were you in there?
Pil. Yes—I—er—was.
Dor. What, all the time?
Pil. I had an important reason for desiring a few minutes'
conversation with—er—Cook.
Car. Mr. Pillenger shared your wish that I should better myself.
Dor. That's devilish lucky, because, as you were a witness, you can
clean the slate for us, and back up what I say.
Pil. You fail to perceive that my perfectly innocent sojourn in the
larder would be as difficult of plausible explanation as your own
regrettable occupancy of the broom cupboard.
Dor. Jove, yes, that's true! What had we better do?
Car. The first step—especially as you are both invalids (the men look
at each other) is for you to go to bed.
Pil. The suggestion is most judicious. (they both start for the door;
Pillenger stops Dorvaston) I think, Captain Dorvaston, I will precede
you by a few minutes. The stairs have a tendency to creak, and
would certainly do so under our combined weight. Good-night.
Dor. Good-night, sir.
Pil. (is going but pauses) With your permission I will remove my
boots. (he does so) It would not be fair to disturb the household.
Good-night! (he goes out with a boot in each hand, and his hat
under his arm)
Dor. (crosses and sits R.) By George! then the governor was there
all the time.
Car. Yes, I was well provided with chaperonage. (turns to mantel
and puts gas out, takes candlestick from bracket and crosses to
window)
Dor. It don't get you out of the mess, that's the worst of it.
Car. (shutting the window and then crossing to larder) You needn't
mind me.
Dor. I'm bound to mind you. Are you sure there's nothing I could do
to help you—in any sort of way?
Car. No. (shuts door; her eye goes to scullery) Well, there is one
thing you could do for me—if you really mean what you say.
Dor. I swear I do! (rises)
Car. (crosses C.) What I should want you to do would be rather a
nuisance. Are you sure you wouldn't mind?
Dor. Try me.
Car. Well, there's a man in the scullery.
Dor. Another man!
Car. Yes. I fancy you'll find he is asleep against the sink.
Dor. Is he, by George?
Car. Might I trouble you to fetch him out? (crosses to dresser and
lights candle)
Dor. Eh? What? Oh, certainly! (he goes to scullery, opens door and
discovers Crayll asleep in a sitting position; Dorvaston picks him up,
places him in a chair R. of table) There you are! (Cook crosses with
candle, and light falls on Crayll's face) Why, it's Crayll! (looks at
Cook)
Car. Yes.
Dor. He's as drunk as a fiddler.
Car. Yes. He called on me this evening, rather to my inconvenience.
Dor. Did he?
Car. Might I ask you—to put him somewhere for me? (Dorvaston
looks at her wonderingly) There's a dry ditch—at the end of the
garden—that would do.
Dor. Anything you wish, of course.
Car. Thanks! (turns B. gas out)
Dor. Then you know Crayll?
Car. Yes. (turning to Dorvaston) He was my husband at one time.
(turns out gas)
Dor. (in an amazed whisper) What!
Car. Good-night! (she goes out quietly at door R.)
The stage is now dark except the moonlight which streams
in at door. Dorvaston stands transfixed with
astonishment—then he puts on his hat—goes up and
opens the back door—returns—picks up Crayll and
carries him up stage. As he does so the
Curtain Falls.
 ACT III.
Scene.—The Vicarage Library (according to plan).
Time.—Early next morning.
(When the Act opens the stage is dark, but the morning
sun shines in through the chinks of the shutters; Lucy
enters in white biking costume; she steals downstairs,
puts jacket on chair R., crosses to O.P. windows, opens
shutters, and draws curtains—crosses to back and
does the same; then waves handkerchief to Thorsby,
and runs up stairs again; stands looking off, to see no
one has heard; after a moment Thorsby enters; steals
to balustrade and kisses Lucy's hand, which is on the
balustrade.)
Thor. Darling!
Lucy. Hush!
Thor. Mustn't I?—on our wedding day?
Lucy. No!
Thor. Oh!
Lucy. At least—whatever you wish to convey to me must be done in
dumb show.
Thor. I see. (he kisses her)
Lucy. Mind my hat. (looks off) When we have been married a few
years you'll realize that my hats must be treated very respectfully.
Thor. I suppose the household is still in bed?
Lucy. Yes. (crosses to settle and sits on R. end) I crept downstairs
feeling like a burglar. I had one awful moment—I stumbled over
Auntie's shoes—they were outside her door.
Thor. My dearest—that was rather careless. (leans on post)
Lucy. Careless! Auntie's shoes aren't easy to avoid in a narrow
passage. It was all right. Uncle and Aunty were still asleep—I could
hear them——
Thor. And Captain Dorvaston?
Lucy. Oh! I expect Jack was asleep, too, not dreaming the hour of his
emancipation was at hand. Poor old Jack! I wish he was coming with
us.
Thor. Hum! Do you?
Lucy. I wish he could have given me away.
Thor. I—hardly share that feeling.
Lucy. You don't know him; he'd have done it in a minute if I'd asked
him. I'd have told him all about it, only he's such a clumsy old
duffer; he might have given me away in a different sense.
Thor. You seem to place great reliance on his affection for you.
Lucy. He has tons of affection for me—tons—but not love—at least,
not the business article you and I deal in. (Thorsby goes to embrace
her, she waves him off) By the way, Harry, (she is putting on her
gloves) there are one or two points we have never properly settled.
Thor. What are they?
Lucy. I mean to be a clinking parson's wife.
Thor. Darling! (moves to her, she waves him off as before)
Lucy. Hold on! I mean to be a clinking parson's wife, but I have my
limitations. Church on Sunday—how many times?
Thor. (hesitatingly) Three?
Lucy. Oh, no! Mornings generally, evenings sometimes, afternoons
never.
Thor. Never?
Lucy. Never! (Thorsby moves to C.; Lucy rises and follows) Now you're
shocked—your face has grown a couple of inches longer. Well, if I'm
not orthodox enough for you it's off, and I'll go back to bed again.
(moves to go)
Thor. Lucy dear, (catches her arm) in answer to what you said, I
shall merely exact one promise.
Lucy. Which is?
Thor. That in all things—and in all seasons—you will do—or not do—
whatever you please. Do you promise?
Lucy. (after slight pause. She puts left hand on shoulder) Harry, I do
promise; it shall be exactly as you say. Indeed, indeed, I'll keep my
word. Now then, fasten my glove, and we'll go and get it over. (he
proceeds to fasten her glove, as Caroline enters, carrying a small
tray with coffee, bread and butter, etc.; she also carries a large shoe
under her arm)
Car. (at top of stairs) I beg your pardon. (Lucy and Thorsby are much
startled. Thorsby moves away towards table R.C.)
Lucy. Cook!
Thor. Dear me!
Car. I hope I didn't startle you?
Lucy. Oh, no!
Thor. Not at all!
Car. (comes down, and stands at bottom of stairs) I thought you
might like a cup of coffee (smiling) to help you face the ordeal.
Lucy. Was that why you wanted to know last night what time I
meant to start?
Car. No. I told you I wanted to think of you, and wish you luck. The
coffee was an afterthought.
Lucy. I see.
Car. Won't you both sit down and have it comfortably?
Lucy. Is it safe to wait? (crosses up C. and looks off—anxiously)
Car. Quite.
Lucy. Keziah?
Car. Keziah is not awake—I wrapped the alarum in a blanket. (Lucy
crosses to top; Thorsby to R.; Cook crosses to top of chair and puts
tray on table and shoe on chair L.; Lucy and Thorsby then sit)
Lucy. It has probably dawned on you, Harry, that Cook is a good
friend of ours?
Thor. It has, indeed! (he rises, bows—sits again)
Car. Cook was once young herself—it was some years ago—but she
hasn't forgotten the circumstances. (to Lucy) Milk and sugar?
Lucy. Thanks. (she holds cup to her)
Car. Mr. Thorsby?
Thor. If you please—two lumps. (she hands cup to him)
Car. Bread and butter? (they both take some) It isn't up to much—
yesterday's loaf—but it was the best I could do. And how do you
both feel? Nervous?
Lucy. Beastly nervous! (eating)
Thor. (eating) The moment is naturally a solemn one. I feel anxious,
but not nervous. (takes up cup and drinks)
Lucy. Oh, it's all right for you; you've tied up such a lot of poor
misguided people, that you know the words backwards. It's different
with me—I know I shall bungle it.
Car. There are only three words that really signify.
Lucy. Which three?
Car. Love, honor, and obey.
Lucy. I think I can manage the first two, but I mean to slur the third,
(Thorsby drops cup in saucer) cough, or sneeze or something.
Thor. (to Caroline, smiling) That sounds rather an alarming prospect.
Don't you pity me?
Car. (glancing at Lucy, and also smiling) No, I don't think I do.
(crosses C.) How do you go to Church?
Lucy. (rising) We are going to bike there. By-the-bye, would you tell
somebody—Auntie or Jack—anybody will do—that I've run over to
see my friend, Jenny Thornton, and they're not to wait breakfast?
Thor. (rising) My dear Lucy, ought we to involve a third person in our
deception?
Car. The third person hasn't a very tender conscience in such
matters. (to Lucy) I'll tell your little fib for you with pleasure.
Lucy. (leans over chair, sees shoe) There, Harry, I knew she would.
Thank you, Cook. (taking up the shoe which Cook has placed on a
chair) What's this?
Car. (C.) I wanted to throw a shoe after you, and that was the only
one I could find. It's one of your Aunt's—she put it outside her door
to be cleaned.
Thor. Dear me! It looks rather formidable.
Car. It is large! We'll hope that the luck it brings will be
proportionate. Now, I should say it was time for you to go.
Thor. (going up to window) Yes, I don't think we ought to delay.
Lucy. (puts shoe down again, crosses up to window, and down to
below table C.) All right, come along. Stop a second though. I say,
Harry, have you got everything?
Thor. (returns from R.) Got everything? (Cook crosses to back of
table, and puts things on tray)
Lucy. Everybody's fee. I should like to do the thing well.
Thor. Yes.
Lucy. How about the ring?
Thor. Eh? Oh, yes, I—(searching his pockets) I bought it yesterday.
(still searching)
Lucy. Very likely, but have you got it with you to-day?
Thor. I certainly think so. I have a distinct recollection of putting it in
my waistcoat pocket. (still searching)
Lucy. You've lost it. (to Cook) There's a pretty mess!
Thor. Ah! here it is. (Cook crosses to C.) There is a hole in the
pocket, and it had slipped down into the lining.
Lucy. (to Cook) Thank goodness! That would have been a nice thing,
wouldn't it?
Car. (to Lucy) Will you wear this? It's only syringa, but it looks like
orange blossom. (Lucy and Thorsby exchange glances) I picked it for
you this morning.
Lucy. (fixing it) You have been kind to me, and I've no means of
thanking you. Will you stoop down and let me kiss you? (Cook does
so) I'm afraid that's all I can do.
Car. I'm quite repaid. I fancy Mr. Thorsby agrees with me. (Lucy
crosses up to window)
Thor. (goes up R. a little; takes Lucy's coat with him) Good-bye! May
I add my thanks also?
Car. Not at all. Good-bye.
Lucy. (crosses down again to Cook) It isn't good-bye—we're coming
back as soon as it's over; and we mean to tell everything to
everybody. So we shall see you again.
Car. One never knows what may happen. I think we'll make it good-
bye. (puts hand on Lucy's shoulder) Now, go along and get married,
and live happy ever after, as they do in the fairy tales. (Thorsby goes
out of the window; Lucy follows, but turns and kisses her hand. They
go)
 (Cook follows them to the verandah, and throws shoe as
she returns for tray. Dorvaston enters from O. P. door.)
Dor. Hulloa! Good-morning!
Car. (at top of table) Good morning. Rather a close shave.
Dor. I beg your pardon?
Car. Nothing! (is taking up tray)
Dor. (at top of table R. of Cook) Look here, don't go. I want to have
half a word with you.
Car. Well?
Dor. I—saw to that little job.
Car. Yes?
Dor. I—put him in the ditch.
Car. Thanks. Did he say anything?
Dor. (top of table) He muttered something about another whiskey,
and that he would like to be called about nine. Now would you mind
telling me a little about it all? Give you my word it ain't mere
curiosity, it's interest in you and everything that concerns you.
Car. (at back of chair L.) I told you the chief thing last night. Mr.
Crayll was my husband at one time.
Dor. You say he was your husband.
Car. Yes. We are divorced.
Dor. Oh, that was it! (pause) I haven't known your—er—I haven't
known Crayll more than a day or two, but I can see he's an awful
little swine. I suppose he treated you anyhow?
Car. Yes. Is there anything else you would like me to tell you?
Dor. It's extraordinary good of you to give me your confidence.
Car. You've earned it. (takes tray, and turns)
Dor. (crosses behind her, to her L.) Well then, I say, what are you
going to do now?
Car. See to the breakfast.
Dor. No, no! I mean about—Miss Pillenger—and—the broom
cupboard. There'll be an infernal row, and I'm afraid you'll get
beans.
Car. (smiles) I'm used to handling all kinds of vegetables. (Dorvaston
laughs too) As I told you last night, it doesn't matter.
Dor. (sits L. of table) But, by George, it does matter! When I asked
you then to let me be of use to you, I put it to you as a favor, now I
ask it as a right. I got you into this mess, simply through my beastly
clumsiness, and you've got to let me see you through it somehow.
Car. (back of table) News has reached me, in rather a roundabout
way, that I have come into some money; so you see I'm
independent—of Miss Pillenger—and the broom cupboard.
Dor. Really?
Car. Really!
Dor. You're not—pulling my leg?
Car. (smiling) No!
Dor. Then I'm devilish glad for your sake, and devilish sorry for my
own. I thought at last I saw my way—to doing you a turn.
Car. (places her hand on chair at back of Dorvaston) My life hasn't
been a very pleasant one, but in one respect I've been lucky, I have
known two men who honestly tried to befriend a woman.
Dor. Who was the other chap?
Car. His name is Carruthers.
Dor. Not old Bob? (rises and backs C.)
Car. (affirmatively) Old Bob.
Dor. Why, he's a dear pal of mine!
Car. Is he?
Dor. And did he try to be a pal to you?
Car. I was thinking of his kindness to Lady Huntworth.
Dor. Ah, how about Lady Huntworth? Did you know her?
Car. Yes! (smiling) We are rather intimate—like myself she was
unfortunate in her choice of a husband.
Dor. Huntworth brought the divorce, didn't he?
Car. Yes. Thinking he saw his way to marrying another woman, with
another fortune, he brought his suit against his wife and your friend.
Dor. Damn him! Pardon! couldn't help it. (crosses and kneels on
chair L. of table)
Car. The whole thing was utterly untrue and I know she asked Bob
to join her in making no defence rather than remain Lady
Huntworth.
Dor. The only thing that rather fogs me is, when the verdict was
once given, why didn't Bob marry her?
Car. He did suggest it.
Dor. Well?
Car. She said no.
Dor. Why did she do that?
Car. She knew he didn't care for her, nor she for him—at least not in
that way.
Dor. (rises, crosses C.) Still, it was game of her to refuse! There ain't
many women placed as she was who'd have done it. (goes up and
leans on balustrade, thinking)
Car. Perhaps not. (pause—takes up tray and crosses C.; as she
moves C. Dorvaston turns and places hand on tray) I must go now.
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