SCENE--_Same as in Act I.; viz., the Morning-Room at Natterjack
Hall. Evening of same day. Enter_ BLETHERS.
_Blethers._ Another of Sir Poshbury’s birthdays almost gone--and my
secret still untold! (_Dodders._) I can’t keep it up much longer....
Ha, here comes his Lordship--he does look mortal bad, that he do! Miss
Verbena ain’t treated him too well, from all I can hear, poor young
feller!
_Enter_ LORD BLESHUGH.
_Lord Bleshugh._ Blethers, by the memory of the innumerable
half-crowns that have passed between us, be my friend now--I have no
others left. Persuade your young Mistress to come hither--you need not
tell her _I_ am here, you understand. Be discreet, and this florin
shall be yours!
_Blethers._ Leave it to me, my lord. I’d tell a lie for less than
that, any day, old as I am!
[_Exit._
_Lord Bl._ I cannot rest till I have heard from her own lips that the
past few hours have been nothing but a horrible dream.... She is
coming! Now for the truth!
_Enter_ VERBENA.
_Verbena._ Papa, did you want me? (_Recognises Lord B.--controls
herself to a cold formality._) My lord, to what do I owe this--this
unexpected intrusion?
[_Pants violently._
_Lord Bl._ Verbena, tell me, you cannot really prefer that seedy snob
in the burst boots to me?
_Verb._ (_aside_). How can I tell him the truth without betraying
dear Papa? No, I must lie, though it kills me. (_To Lord B._) Lord
Bleshugh, I have been trifling with you. I--I never loved you.
_Lord B._ I see, and all the while your heart was given to a howling
cad?
_Verb._ And if it was, who can account for the vagaries of a girlish
fancy! We women are capricious beings, you know. (_With hysterical
gaiety._) But you are unjust to Mr. Spiker--he has not _yet_ howled in
_my_ presence--(_aside_)--though I very nearly did in _his_!
_Lord B._ And you really love him?
_Verb._ I--I love him. (_Aside._) My heart will break!
_Lord B._ Then I have no more to say. Farewell, Verbena! Be as happy
as the knowledge that you have wrecked one of the brightest careers,
and soured one of the sweetest natures in the county, will permit.
(_Goes up stage, and returns._) A few days since you presented me with
a cloth pen-wiper, in the shape of a dog of unknown breed. If you will
kindly wait here for half-an-hour, I shall have much pleasure in
returning a memento which I have no longer the right to retain, and
there are several little things I gave you which I can take back with
me at the same time, if you will have them put up in readiness.
[_Exit._
_Verbena._ Oh, he is cruel, cruel! but I shall keep the little bone
yard-measure, and the diamond pig--they are all I have to remind me of
him!
_Enter_ SPIKER, _slightly intoxicated._
_Spiker._ (_throwing himself on sofa without seeing Verb._) I don’
know how it is, but I feel precioush shleepy, somehow. P’raps I _did_
partake lil’ too freely of Sir Poshbury’s gen’rous Burgundy. Wunner why
they call it “gen’rous”--it didn’t give _me_ anything--’cept a bloomin’
headache! However, I punished it, and old Poshbury had to look on and
let me. He-he! (_Examining his hand._) Who’d think, to look at thish
thumb, that there was a real live Baronet squirmin’ under it. But there
ish!
[_Snores._
[Illustration: Spiker spiked.]
_Verb._ (_bitterly_). And _that_ thing is my affianced husband Ah, no
I cannot go through with it, he is _too_ repulsive! If I could but find
a way to free myself without compromising poor Papa. The sofa-cushion!
_Dare_ I? It would be quite painless.... Surely the removal of such an
odious wretch cannot be _Murder_.... I will! (_Slow music. She gets a
cushion, and presses it tightly over_ SPIKER’S _head._) Oh, I _wish_ he
wouldn’t gurgle like that, and how he does kick! He cannot even die
like a gentleman! (SPIKER’S _kicks become more and more feeble and
eventually cease._) How still he lies! I almost wish ... Mr. Spiker,
Mr. Spi-ker!... no answer--oh, I really _have_ suffocated him! (_Enter_
Sir POSH.) You, Papa?
_Sir Posh._ What, Verbena, sitting with, hem--Samuel in the gloaming?
(_Sings with forced hilarity._) “In the gloaming, oh, my darling!”
that’s as it should be--quite as it should be!
_Verb._ (_in dull strained accents_). Don’t sing, Papa, I cannot bear
it--just yet. I have just suffocated Mr. Spiker with a sofa-cushion.
See!
[_Shows the body._
_Sir Posh._ Then I am safe--he will tell no tales now! But, my child,
are you aware of the very serious nature of your act? An act of which,
as a Justice of the Peace, I am bound to take some official cognizance!
_Verb._ Do not scold me, Papa. Was it not done for _your_ sake?
_Sir P._ I cannot accept such an excuse as that. I fear your motives
were less disinterested than you would have me believe. And now,
Verbena, what will _you_ do? As your father, I would gladly screen
you--but, as a Magistrate, I cannot promise to be more than passive.
_Verb._ Listen, Papa. I have thought of a plan--why should I not
wheel this sofa to the head of the front-door steps, and tip it over?
They will only think he fell down when intoxicated--for he _had_ taken
far too much wine, Papa!
_Sir P._ Always the same quick-witted little fairy! Go, my child, but
be careful that none of the servants see you. (VERB. _wheels the sofa
and_ SPIKER’S _body out,_ L.U.E.) My poor impulsive darling, I do hope
she will not be seen--servants _do_ make such mischief! But there’s an
end of Spiker, at any rate. I should _not_ have liked him for a
son-in-law, and with him, goes the only person who knows my unhappy
secret!
_Enter_ BLETHERS.
_Blethers._ Sir Poshbury, I have a secret to reveal which I can
preserve no longer--it concerns something that happened many years
ago--it is connected with your _birthday_, Sir Poshbury.
_Sir P._ (_quailing_). What, _another_! I must stop _his_ tongue at all
hazards. Ah, the rotten sash-line! (_To_ BLETHERS.) I will hear you, but
first close yonder window, the night-air is growing chill.
[BLETHERS _goes to window at back. Slow music. As he approaches
it,_ Lord BLESHUGH _enters_ (R 2 E), _and, with a smothered cry
of horror, drags him back by the coat-tails--just before the
window falls with a tremendous crash._
_Sir P._ Bleshugh! What have you done?
_Lord Blesh._ (_sternly_). Saved _him_ from an untimely end--and _you_
from--crime!
_Collapse of_ Sir P. _Enter_ VERBENA, _terrified._
_Verb._ Papa, Papa, hide me! The night-air and the cold stone steps
have restored Mr. Spiker to life and consciousness! He is coming to
denounce me--you--both of us! He is awfully annoyed!
_Sir P._ (_recklessly_). It is useless to appeal to me, child. I have
enough to do to look after myself--now.
[_Enter_ SPIKER, _indignant._
_Spiker._ Pretty treatment for a gentleman, this! Look here,
Poshbury, this young lady has choked me with a cushion, and then
pitched me down the front steps--I might have broken my neck.
_Sir P._ It was an oversight which I lament, but for which I must
decline to be answerable. You must settle your differences with her.
_Spiker._ And you too, old horse! _You_ had a hand in this, I know,
and I’ll pay you out for it now. My life ain’t safe if I marry a girl
like that, so I’ve made up my mind to split and be done with it!
_Sir P._ (_contemptuously_). If _you_ don’t, Blethers _will_. So do
your worst, you hound!
_Spiker._ Very well then; I will. (_To the rest._) I denounce this man
for travelling with a half-ticket from Edgware Road to Baker Street on
his thirteenth birthday, the 31st of March twenty-seven years ago this
very day!
[_Sensation._
_Blethers._ Hear me! It was _not_ his thirteenth birthday; Sir
Poshbury’s birthday falls on the 1st of April--_to-morrow_! I was sent
to register the birth, and, by a blunder, which I have repented
bitterly ever since, unfortunately gave the wrong date. Till this
moment I have never had the manliness or sincerity to confess my error,
for fear of losing my situation.
_Sir P._ (_to_ SPIKER). Do you hear, you paltry knave? I was _not_
thirteen. Consequently, I was under age, and the Bye-laws are still
unbroken. Your hold over me is gone--gone for ever!
_Spiker._ H’m--Spiker spiked this time!
[_Retires up disconcerted._
_Lord Bl._ And you did not really love him, after all, Verbena?
_Verb._ (_with arch pride_). Have I not proved my indifference?
_Lord Bl._ But I forget--you admitted that you were but trifling with
my affection--take back your pin-cushion!
_Verb._ Keep it. All that I did was done to spare my father!
_Sir Posh._ Who, as a matter of fact, was innocent--but I forgive
you, child, for your unworthy suspicions. Bleshugh, my boy, you have
saved me from unnecessarily depriving myself of the services of an old
retainer. Blethers, I condone a dissimulation for which you have done
much to atone. Spiker, you vile and miserable rascal, be off, and be
thankful that I have sufficient magnanimity to refrain from giving you
in charge. (SPIKER _sneaks off crushed._) And now, my children, and my
faithful old servant, congratulate me that I am no longer----
_Verbena and Lord Bleshugh_ (_together_). Under the Harrow!
[_Affecting Family Tableau and quick Curtain._
X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE
[Illustration: Tommy and Jane.]
Once more we draw upon our favourite source of inspiration--the poems
of the Misses Taylor. The dramatist is serenely confident that the new
London County Council Censor of Plays, whenever that much-desired
official is appointed, will highly approve of this little piece on
account of the multiplicity of its morals. It is intended to teach,
amongst other useful lessons, that--as the poem on which it is founded
puts it--“Fruit in lanes is seldom good”; also, that it is not always
prudent to take a hint: again, that constructive murder is distinctly
reprehensible, and should never be indulged in by persons who cannot
control their countenances afterwards. Lastly, that suicide may often
be averted by the exercise of a little _savoir vivre_.
TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE.
CHARACTERS.
_Tommy and his Sister Jane (Taylorian Twins, and awful examples)._
_Their Wicked Uncle (plagiarised from a forgotten Nursery Story,
and slightly altered)._
_Old Farmer Copeer (skilled in the use of horse and cattle
medicines)._
SCENE--_A shady lane; on the right, a gate, leading to the
farm; left, some bushes, covered with practicable scarlet
berries._
_Enter the_ Wicked Uncle, _stealthily_.
_The W. U._ No peace of mind I e’er shall know again
Till I have cooked the geese of Tom and Jane!
But--though a naughty--I’m a nervous nunky,
For downright felonies I’m far too funky!
I’d hire assassins--but of late the villains
Have raised their usual fee to fifteen shillin’s!
Nor, to reduce their rates, will they engage
(_Sympathetically_) For two poor orphans who are under age!
So (as I’d give no more than half a guinea)
I must myself get rid of Tom and Jenny.
Yet, like an old soft-hearted fool, I falter,
And can’t make up my mind to risk a halter.
(_Looking off._) Ha, in the distance, Jane and little Tom I see!
These berries--(_meditatively_)--why, it only needs diplomacy.
Ho-ho, a most ingenious experiment!
[_Indulges in silent and sinister mirth, as_ Jane _and_ Tom
_trip in, and regard him with innocent wonder._
_Jane._ Uncle, what _is_ the joke? Why all this merriment?
_The W. U._ (_in guilty confusion_). Not merriment, my
loves--a trifling spasm--
Don’t be alarmed--your Uncle often has ’em!
I’m feeling better than I did at first--
_You’re_ looking flushed, though not, I hope, with thirst?
[_Insidiously._
_Song, by the_ Wicked Uncle.
The sun is scorching overhead;
The roads are dry and dusty;
And here are berries, ripe and red,
Refreshing when you’re _thusty_!
They’re hanging just within your reach,
Inviting you to clutch them!
But--as your Uncle--I beseech
You won’t attempt to touch them?
_Tommy and Jane_ (_dutifully_). We’ll do whatever you beseech, and not
attempt to touch them!
[_Annoyance of_ W. U.
_The W. U._ Temptation (so I’ve understood)
A child, in order kept, shuns;
And fruit in lanes is seldom good
(With several exceptions).
However freely you partake,
It can’t--as you are young--kill,
But should it cause a stomach-ache--
Well, don’t you blame your Uncle!
_Tommy and Jane._ No, should it cause a stomach-ache, we will not
blame our Uncle!
_The W. U._ (_aside_). They’ll need no further personal assistance,
But take the bait when I am at a distance.
I could not, were I paid a thousand ducats,
(_With sentiment_) Stand by, and see them kick their little buckets,
Or look on while their sticks this pretty pair cut!
[_Stealing off._
_Tommy._ What, Uncle, going?
_The W. U._ (_with assumed jauntiness_). Just to get my hair
cut! [_Goes._
_Tommy_ (_looking wistfully at the berries_). I say, they _do_ look
nice, Jane, such a lot too!
_Jane_ (_demurely_). Well, Tommy, Uncle never told us _not_ to.
[_Slow music; they gradually approach the berries, which they
pick and eat with increasing relish, culminating in a dance of
delight._
_Duet_--TOMMY _and_ JANE (_with step-dance_).
_Tommy_ (_dancing, with his mouth full_). These berries ain’t so
bad--although they’ve far too much acidity.
_Jane_ (_ditto_). To me, their only drawback is a dash of insipidity.
_Tommy_ (_rudely_). But, all the same, you’re wolfing ’em
with wonderful avidity!
_Jane_ (_indignantly_). No, _that_ I’m not, so _there_ now!
_Tommy_ (_calmly_). But you _are_!
_Jane._ And so are
_you_!
[_They retire up, dancing, and eat more berries--after which
they gaze thoughtfully at each other._
_Jane._ This fruit is most refreshing--but it’s curious how
it cloys on you!
_Tommy_ (_with anxiety_). I wonder why all appetite for
dinner it destroys in you!
_Jane._ Oh, Tommy, aren’t you half afraid you’ve ate
enough to poison you?
_Tommy._ No, _that_ I’m not--so there now! &c., &c.
[_They dance as before._
_Tommy._ Jane, _is_ your palate parching up in horrible aridity?
_Jane._ It is, and in my throat’s a lump of singular solidity.
_Tommy._ Then that is why you’re dancing with such pokerlike
rigidity.
[_Refrain as before; they dance with decreasing spirit, and
finally stop, and fan one another with their hats._
_Jane._ I’m better now that on my brow there is a little breeziness.
_Tommy._ My passing qualm is growing calm, and tightness
turns to easiness.
_Jane._ You seem to me tormented by a tendency to queasiness?
[_Refrain; they attempt to continue the dance--but suddenly sit
down side by side._
_Jane_ (_with a gasp_). I don’t know what it is--but, oh, I
_do_ feel so peculiar!
_Tommy_ (_with a gulp_). I’ve tumults taking place within
that I may say unruly are.
_Jane._ Why, Tommy, you are turning green--you really
and you _truly_ are!
_Tommy._ No, _that_ I’m not, so _there_ now!
_Jane._ But you _are_!
_Tommy._ And so are _you_!
[_Melancholy music; to which_ TOMMY _and_ _Jane_, _after a few
convulsive movements, gradually become inanimate. Enter old_
Farmer COPEER _from gate, carrying a large bottle labelled
“Cattle Medicine.”_
_Farmer C._ It’s time I gave the old bay mare her drench.
[_Stumbles over the children._
What’s here? A lifeless lad!--and little wench!
Been eating berries--where did they get _them_ idees?
For cows, when took so, I’ve the reg’lar remedies.
I’ll try ’em here--and if their state the worse is,
Why, they shall have them balls I give my ’erses!
[_Carries the bodies off just before the_ W. U. _re-enters_.
_W. U._ The children--gone? yon bush of berries less full!
Hooray, my little stratagem’s successful!
[_Dances a triumphant pas seul. Re-enter Farmer C._
_Farmer C._ Been looking for your little niece and nephew?
_The W. U._ Yes, searching for them everywhere--
_Farmer C._ (_ironically_). Oh, _hev’_ you?
Then let me tell you, from all pain they’re free, Sir.
_The W. U._ (_falling on his knees_). _I_ didn’t poison them--it
wasn’t _me_, Sir!
_Farmer C._ I thought as much--a constable I’ll run for.
[_Exit._
_The W. U._ My wretched nerves again! _This_ time I’m done for!
Well, though I’m trapped, and useless all disguise is,
My case shall ne’er come on at the Assizes!
[_Rushes desperately to tree and crams himself with the
remaining berries, which produce an almost instantaneous
effect. Re-enter_ TOM _and_ JANE _from gate, looking pale and
limp. Terror of the_ Wicked Uncle _as he turns and recognises
them_.
_The W. U._ (_with tremulous politeness_). The shades of
Jane and Tommy, I presume?
[_Re-enter Farmer C._
_Jane and Tommy_ (_pointing to Farmer C._) His Cattle
Mixtures snatched us from the tomb!
_The W. U._ (_with a flicker of hope_). Why, then the self-same
drugs will ease _my_ torments!
_Farmer C._ (_chuckling_). Too late! they’ve drunk the lot,
the little vormints!
_The W. U._ (_bitterly_). So out of life I must inglorious wriggle,
Pursued by Tommy’s grin, and Jenny’s giggle!
[_Dies in great agony, while_ TOMMY, JANE, _and_ Farmer COPEER
_look on with mixed emotions as the Curtain falls_.
XI.--THE RIVAL DOLLS.
“Miss Jenny and Polly had each a new dolly.”--_Vide Poem._
CHARACTERS.
_Miss Jenny_ } By the Sisters LEAMAR.
_Miss Polly_ }
_The Soldier Doll_ } By the Two ARMSTRONGS.
_The Sailor Doll_ }
SCENE--_A Nursery. Enter_ Miss JENNY _and_ Miss POLLY, _who
perform a blameless step-dance with an improving chorus_.
Oh, isn’t it jolly! we’ve each a new dolly,
And one is a Soldier, the other’s a Tar;
We’re fully contented with what’s been presented,
Such good little children we both of us are!
[_They dance up to a cupboard, from which they bring out two
large Dolls, which they place on chairs._
_Miss J._ _Don’t_ they look nice! Come, Polly, let us strive
To make ourselves believe that they’re alive!
_Miss P._ (_addressing_ Sailor D.). I’m glad you’re mine. I
dote on all that’s nautical.
_The Sailor D._ (_opening his eyes suddenly_). Excuse me, Miss, your
sister’s more _my_ sort o’ gal.
[_Kisses his hand to_ Miss J., _who shrinks back, shocked and
alarmed_.
_Miss J._ Oh, Polly, _did_ you hear? I feel so shy!
_The Sailor D._ (_with mild self-assertion_). _I_ can say “Pa” and
“Ma”--and wink my eye.
[_Does so at_ Miss P., _who runs in terror to_ Miss J.’s
_side_.
_Miss J._ Why, both are showing signs of animation.
_Miss P._ Who’d think we had such strong imagination!
_The Soldier Doll_ (_aside to the Sailor D._). I say, old fellow,
we have caught their fancy--
In each of us they now a real man see!
Let’s keep it up!
_The Sailor D._ (_dubiously._) D’ye think as we can _do_ it?
_The Soldier D._ You stick by me, and I will see you through it.
Sit up, and turn your toes out,--don’t you loll;
Put on the Man, and drop the bloomin’ Doll!
[_The_ Sailor DOLL _pulls himself together, and rises from
chair importantly_.
_The Sailor D._ (_in the manner of a Music-hall Chairman_)--
Ladies, with your kind leave, this gallant gent
Will now his military sketch present.
[Miss J. _and_ P. _applaud_: _the_ Soldier D., _after feebly
expostulating, is induced to sing_.
_Song, by the_ Soldier Doll.
When I used to be displayed,
In the Burlington Arcade,
With artillery arrayed
Underneath.
Shoulder Hump
I imagine that I made
All the Lady Dolls afraid,
I should draw my battle-blade
From its sheath,
Shoulder Hump
For I’m Mars’s gallant son,
And my back I’ve shown to none,
Nor was ever seen to run
From the strife!
Shoulder Hump!
Oh, the battles I’d have won,
And the dashing deeds have done,
If I’d ever fired a gun
In my life!
Shoulder Hump!
_Refrain (to be sung marching round Stage)._
By your right flank, Wheel!
Let the front rank kneel!
With the bristle of the steel
To the foe.
Till their regiments reel,
At our rattling peal,
And the military zeal
We show!
[Illustration: “Shoulder Hump!”]
[_Repeat, with the whole company marching round after him._
_The Soldier Doll._ My friend will next oblige--this jolly Jack Tar.
Will give his song and chorus in charàck-tar!
[_Same business with_ Sailor D.
_Song, by the_ Sailor Doll.
In costume I’m
So maritime,
You’d never suppose the fact is,
That with the Fleet
In Regent Street,
I’d precious little naval practice!
There was saucy craft,
Rigged fore an’ aft,
Inside o’ Mr. Cre-mer’s.
From Noah’s Arks to Clipper-built barques,
Like-wise mechanical stea-mers.
_Chorus._
But to navigate the Serpentine,
Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
With clockwork, sails, or spirits of wine,
Yeo-ho, my lads, ahoy!
I did respeckfully decline,
So I was left in port to pine,
Which wasn’t azactually the line
Of a rollicking Sailor Boy, Yeo-ho!
Of a rollicking Sailor Bo-oy!
Yes, there was lots
Of boats and yachts,
Of timber and of tin, too;
But one and all
Was far too small
For a doll o’ my size to get into
I was too big
On any brig
To ship without disas-ter,
And it wouldn’t never do
When the cap’n and the crew
Were a set ’o little swabs all plaster!
_Chorus_--So to navigate the Serpentine, &c.
An Ark is p’raps
The berth for chaps
As is fond o’ Natural Hist’ry.
But I sez to Shem
And the rest o’ them,
“How you get along at all’s a myst’ry!
With a Wild Beast Show
Let loose below,
And four fe-males on deck too!
I never could agree
With your happy fami-lee,
And your lubberly ways I objeck to.”
[_Chorus. Hornpipe by the company, after which the_ Soldier
Doll _advances condescendingly to_ Miss JENNY.
_The Sold. D._ Invincible I’m reckoned by the Ladies,
But yield to you--though conquering my trade is!
_Miss J._ (_repulsing him_). Oh, go away, you great conceited thing,
you!
[_The_ Sold. D. _persists in offering her attentions._
_Miss P._ (_watching them bitterly_). To be deserted by one’s
doll _does_ sting you!
[_The_ Sailor D. _approaches._
_The Sailor D._ (_to_ Miss P.) Let _me_ console you, Miss, a Sailor
Doll
As swears his ’art was ever true to Poll!
(N.B.--_Good opportunity for Song here._)
_Miss P._ (_indignantly to_ Miss J.) Your Sailor’s teasing me to
be his idol!
Do make him stop--(_spitefully_)--When you’ve _quite_ done
with _my_ doll!
_Miss J._ (_scornfully._) If you suppose _I_ want your wretched
warrior,
I’m sorry _for_ you!
_Miss P._ I for you am sorrier.
_Miss J._ (_weeping_, R.). Polly preferred to me--what ignominy!
_Miss P._ (_weeping_, L.). My horrid Soldier jilting me for Jenny!
[_The two Dolls face one another_, C.
_Sailor D._ (_to_ Soldier D.). You’ve made her sluice her sky-lights
now, you swab!
_Soldier D._ (_to_ Sailor D.). As you have broke her heart, I’ll
break your nob! [_Hits him._
_Sailor D._ (_in a pale fury_). This insult must be blotted out in
bran!
_Soldier D._ (_fiercely_). Come on, I’ll shed your sawdust--if I can!
[Miss J. _and_ P. _throw themselves between the combatants_.
_Miss J._ For any mess you make _we_ shall be scolded,
So wait until a drugget we’ve unfolded!
[_They lay down drugget on Stage._
_The Soldier D._ (_politely_). No hurry, Miss, _we_ don’t object
to waiting.
_The Sailor D._ (_aside_). His valour--like my own--’s evaporating!
(_Defiantly to_ Soldier D.). On guard! You’ll see how soon
I’ll run you through!
(_Confidentially._) (If you will not prod _me_, I won’t pink
_you_.)
_The Soldier D._ Through your false kid my deadly blade I’ll pass!
(_Confidentially._) (Look here, old fellow, don’t you be a _hass_!)
[_They exchange passes at a considerable distance._
_The Sailor D._ (_aside_). Don’t lose your temper now!
_Sold. D._ Don’t get excited.
Do keep a little farther off!
_Sail. D._ Delighted!
[_Wounds_ Soldier D. _by misadventure._
_Sold. D._ (_annoyed_). There now, you’ve gone and made upon
my wax a dent!
_Sail. D._ Excuse me, it was really quite an accident.
_Sold. D._ (_savagely_). Such clumsiness would irritate a saint!
[_Stabs Sailor Doll._
_Miss J. and P._ (_imploringly_). Oh, stop! the sight of sawdust
turns us faint!
[_They drop into chairs, swooning._
_Sail. D._ I’ll pay you out for that!
[_Stabs Soldier D._
_Sold. D._ Right through you’ve poked me!
_Sailor D._ So you have _me_!
_Sold. D._ You shouldn’t have provoked me!
[_They fall transfixed._
_Sailor D._ (_faintly_). Alas, we have been led away by vanity.
Dolls shouldn’t try to imitate humanity! [_Dies._
_Soldier D._ For, if they do, they’ll end like us, unpitied,
Each on the other’s sword absurdly spitted!
[_Dies._ Miss J. _and_ P. _revive, and bend sadly over the
corpses_.
_Miss Jenny._ From their untimely end we draw this moral,
How wrong it is, even for dolls, to quarrel!
_Miss Polly._ Yes, Jenny, in the fate of these poor fellows see
What sad results may spring from female jealousy!
[_They embrace penitently as Curtain falls._
XII.
CONRAD; OR, THE THUMBSUCKER.
(_Adapted freely from a well-known Poem in the “Struwwelpeter.”_)
CHARACTERS.
_Conrad (aged 6)._
_Conrad’s Mother(47)._
_The Scissorman (age immaterial)._
SCENE--_An Apartment in the house of_ CONRAD’S _Mother, window
in centre at back, opening upon a quiet thoroughfare. It is
dusk, and the room is lighted only by the reflected gleam from
the street-lamps._ CONRAD _discovered half-hidden by left
window-curtain._
_Conrad_ (_watching street_). Still there! For full an hour
he has not budged
Beyond the circle of yon lamp-post’s rays!
The gaslight falls upon his crimson hose,
And makes a steely glitter at his thigh,
While from the shadow peers a hatchet-face
And fixes sinister malignant eyes--
On whom? (_Shuddering._) I dare not trust myself to guess
And yet--ah, no--it cannot be myself!
I am so young--one is still young at six!--
What man can say that I have injured him?
Since, in my Mother’s absence all the day
Engaged upon Municipal affairs,
I peacefully beguile the weary hours
By suction of consolatory thumbs.
[_Here he inserts his thumb in his mouth, but almost instantly
removes it with a start._
Again I meet those eyes! I’ll look no more--
But draw the blind and shut my terror out.
[_Draws blind and lights candle; Stage lightens._
Heigho, I wish my Mother were at home!
(_Listening._) At last! I hear her latch-key in the door!
[_Enter_ CONRAD’S _Mother, a lady of strong-minded appearance,
rationally attired. She carries a large reticule full of
documents._
_Conrad’s M._ Would, Conrad, that you were of riper years,
So you might share your Mother’s joy to-day,
The day that crowns her long and arduous toil
As one of London’s County Councillors!
_Conrad._ Nay, speak; for though my mind be immature,
One topic still can charm my infant ear,
That ever craves the oft-repeated tale.
I love to hear of that august assembly
[_His Mother lifts her bonnet solemnly._
In which my Mother’s honoured voice is raised!
_C.’s M._ (_gratified_). Learn, Conrad, then, that, after many months
Of patient “lobbying” (you’ve heard the term?)
The measure by my foresight introduced
Has triumphed by a bare majority!
_Con._ My bosom thrills with dutiful delight--
Although I yet for information wait
As to the scope and purpose of the statute.
_C.’s M._ You show an interest so intelligent
That well deserves it should be satisfied,
Be seated, Conrad, at your Mother’s knee,
And you shall hear the full particulars.
You know how zealously I advocate
The sacred cause of Nursery Reform?
How through my efforts every infant’s toys
Are carefully inspected once a month----?
_Con._ (_wearily_). Nay, Mother, you forget--I _have_ no toys.
_C.’s M._ Which brings you under the exemption clause.
But--to resume; how Nursery Songs and Tales
Must now be duly licensed by our Censor,
And any deviation from the text
Forbidden under heavy penalties?
All that you know. Well; with concern of late,
I have remarked among our infancy
The rapid increase of a baneful habit
On which I scarce can bring my tongue to dwell.
[_The Stage darker; blind at back illuminated._
Oh, Conrad, there are children--think of it!--
So lost to every sense of decency
That, in mere wantonness or brainless sloth,
They obstinately suck forbidden thumbs!
[CONRAD _starts with irrepressible emotion._
Forgive me if I shock your innocence!
(_Sadly._) Such things exist--but soon shall cease to be,
Thanks to the measure we have passed to-day!
_Con._ (_with growing uneasiness_). But how can statutes
check such practices?
_C.’s M._ (_patting his head_). Right shrewdly questioned,
boy! I come to that.
Some timid sentimentalists advised
Compulsory restraint in woollen gloves,
Or the deterrent aid of bitter aloes.
_I_ saw the evil had too deep a seat
To yield to such half-hearted remedies.
No; we must cut, ere we could hope to cure!
Nay, interrupt me not; my Bill appoints
A new official, by the style and title
Of “London County Council Scissorman,”
For the detection of young “suck-a-thumbs.”
[_Here the shadow of a huge hand brandishing a gigantic pair of
shears appears upon the blind._
_Con._ (_hiding his face in his Mother’s lap._) Ah, Mother,
see!... the scissors!... On the blind!
_C.’s M._ Why, how you tremble! You’ve no cause to fear.
The shadow of his grim insignia
Should have no terror--save for thumb-suckers.
_Con._ And what for _them_?
_C.’s M._ (_complacently_). A doom devised by me--
The confiscation of the culprit thumbs.
Thus shall our statute cure while it corrects,
For those who have no thumbs can err no more.
[_The shadow slowly passes on the blind_, CONRAD _appearing
relieved at its departure. Loud knocking without. Both start to
their feet._
_C.’s M._ Who knocks so loud at such an hour as this?
_A Voice._ Open, I charge ye. In the Council’s name!
_C.’s M._ ’Tis the Official Red-legged Scissorman,
Who doubtless calls to thank me for the post.
_Con._ (_with a gloomy determination_). More like his business,
Madam, is with--Me!
_C.’s M._ (_suddenly enlightened_). A Suck-a-thumb? ... you, CONRAD?
_C._ (_desperately_). Ay,--from birth!
[_Profound silence, as Mother and Son face one another. The
knocking is renewed._
_C.’s M._ Oh, this is horrible--it must not be!
I’ll shoot the bolt and barricade the door.
[CONRAD _places himself before it, and addresses his Mother in
a tone of incisive irony_.
_Con._ Why, where is all the zeal you showed of late?
Is’t thus that you the Roman Matron play?
Trick not a statute of your own devising.
Come, your official’s waiting--let him in!
[C’s M. _shrinks back appalled_.
So? you refuse!--(_throwing open door_)--then--enter, Scissorman!
[_Enter the_ Scissorman, _masked and in red tights, with his
hand upon the hilt of his shears._
_The S._ (_in a passionless tone_). Though sorry to create
unpleasantness,
I claim the thumbs of this young gentleman,
Which these own eyes have marked between his lips.
_C.’s M._ (_frantically_). Thou minion of a meddling tyranny,
Go exercise thy loathsome trade elsewhere!
_The S._ (_civilly_). I’ve duties here that must be first performed.
_C.’s M._ (_wildly_). Take my two thumbs for his!
_The S._ ’Tis not the law--
Which is a model of lucidity.
_Con._ (_calmly_). Sir, you speak well. My thumbs are forfeited,
And they alone must pay the penalty.
_The S._ (_with approval_). Right! Step with me into the outer hall,
And have the business done without delay.
_C.’s M._ (_throwing herself between them._) Stay, I’m a
Councillor--this law was _mine_!
Hereby I do suspend the clause I drew.
_The S._ You should have drawn it milder.
_Con._ Must I teach
A parent laws were meant to be obeyed?
[_To Sc._] Lead on, Sir. (_To his Mother with cold courtesy._)
Madam,--may I trouble you?
[Illustration: “My Conrad!”]
[_He thrusts her gently aside and passes out with the_ Sc.;
_the door is shut and fastened from without._ C.’s M. _rushes
to door which she attempts to force without success._
_C.’s M._ In vain I batter at a senseless door,
I’ll to the keyhole train my tortured ear.
(_Listening._) Dead silence! ... is it over--or, to come?
Hark! was not that the click of meeting shears?...
Again! and followed by the sullen thud
Of thumbs that drop upon linoleum!...
[_The door is opened and_ CONRAD _appears, pale but erect._
_N.B. The whole of this scene has been compared to one in “La
Tosca”--which, however, it exceeds in horror and intensity._
_C.’s M._ They send him back to me, bereft of both!
My CONRAD! What?--repulse a Mother’s Arms!
_Con._ (_with chilling composure_). Yes, Madam, for between us ever
more,
A barrier invisible is raised,
And should I strive to reach those arms again,
Two spectral thumbs would press me coldly back--
The thumbs I sucked in blissful ignorance,
The thumbs that solaced me in solitude,
The thumbs your County Council took from me,
And your endearments scarcely will replace!
Where, Madam, lay the sin in sucking them?
The dog will lick his foot, the cat her claw,
His paws sustain the hibernating bear--
And you decree no law to punish _them_!
Yet, in your rage for infantine reform,
You rushed this most ridiculous enactment--
Its earliest victim--your neglected son!
_C.’s M._ (_falling at his feet_). Say, CONRAD, you will some day
pardon me?
_Con._ (_bitterly, as he regards his maimed hands._) Aye--on the day
these pollards send forth shoots!
[_His_ Mother _turns aside with a heartbroken wail_; CONRAD
_standing apart in gloomy estrangement as the Curtain
descends._
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
* * * * *
Transcribers Notes:
Some minor obvious punctuation and typographical errors have been
corrected silently. Unclosed quotes have been left as they appear in
the original.
Changes made:
Pg 15 “With enthusiams [replaced with “enthusiasm”] We can make
a shift to do it”
Pg 66 “and the restless winds be mowning.” [replaced full stop
with comma]
Pg 95 “The Monster Man-trap steathily” [replaced with
“stealthily”]
Pg 128 “Even _this_ cannot shatter her alrtess [replaced with
“artless”] faith”
Pg 131 “If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmamma”
[replaced with “Grandmama” (used previously)]
Pg 156 “a constable I’ll run for, [replaced comma with full stop.]”
Both versions of the following words were used in the text:
latchkey, latch-key
limelight, lime-light
sashline, sash-line
selfsame, self-same
All uncertain hyphenation left hyphenated:
Pg 25 a-noma-lee
Pg 38 elec-tresses
Pg 99 Bed-chamber
Pg 115 low-born
Pg 120 Christmas-time
Pg 164 sky-lights