(_A Story in Scenes._)
SCENE II.--_Same as preceding._ Mr. TOOVEY _is slowly recovering from
the mental collapse produced by the mention of the word "Eldorado."_
_Mrs. Toovey._ ALTHEA is out of the room, Pa, so there is no reason
why you should not speak out plainly.
_Mr. Toovey (to himself)._ No reason--oh! But I must say _something_.
If only I knew whether it was my Eldorado--but, no, it's a mere
coincidence! (_Aloud--shakily._) CHARLES, my boy, you--you've shocked
me very much indeed, as you can see. But, about the name of this
establishment, now--isn't it a curious one for--for a _music-hall_,
CHARLES? M--mightn't it be confused with--well--say a _mine_, now?
_Mrs. T._ THEOPHILUS, this is scarcely the tone----. I expected you to
give this misguided boy a solemn warning of the ruin he may incur by
having anything to do with such a haunt.
_Mr. T. (to himself)._ Ah, I'm afraid I'm only too well qualified to
do that. (_Aloud._) I do, CHARLES, I _do_--though at the same time, I
can quite understand how one may, unwittingly--I mean, you might not
be aware of----
_Mrs. T._ You, Pa, of all people in the world, trying to find excuses
for his depravity! The very name of the place is enough to indicate
its nature!
_Mr. T. (hastily)._ No, my love, surely not. _There_ I think you go
too far--too far altogether!
_Mrs. T._ I appeal to Mr. CURPHEW to say whether such a place is a
proper resort for _any_ young man.
_Curphew (to himself)._ Wish I was well out of this! (_Aloud._) I--I
really don't feel qualified to give an opinion, Mrs. TOOVEY. Many
young men _do_ go to them, I believe.
_Charles (to himself)._ Is this chap a prig, or a humbug? I'll
draw him. (_Aloud._) I suppose, from that, you never think of going
yourself?
_Mrs. T._ Mr. CURPHEW'S tastes are rather different from yours,
CHARLES. I am very sure that he is never to be seen among the audience
at any music-hall, are you, Mr. CURPHEW?
_Curph. (to himself)._ Could I break it to her gently, I wonder.
(_Aloud._) Never--my professional duties make that impossible.
_Charles (to himself)._ I knew he was a muff! (_Aloud._) I should have
thought you could easily get a pass to any place you wanted to go--in
your profession.
_Curph. (to himself)._ He suspects something. (_Aloud._) Should you?
Why?
_Charles._ Oh, as you're on a newspaper, you know. Don't they always
have a free pass for everywhere?
_Curph._ If they have, I have never had occasion to make use of it.
_Charles._ Well, of course you may turn up your nose at music-halls,
and say they're not intellectual enough for you.
_Curph._ Pardon me, I never said I turned up my nose at them, though
you'll admit they don't profess to make a strong appeal to the
intellect.
_Charles._ If they did, you wouldn't catch _me_ there. But I can tell
you, it's not so bad as you seem to think; every now and then they get
hold of a really good thing. You might do worse than drop into the El.
or the Val., the Valhalla, you know, some evening--just to hear WALTER
WILDFIRE.
_Curph._ Much obliged; but I can't imagine myself going there for such
a purpose.
_Mrs. T._ CHARLES, if you suppose Mr. CURPHEW would allow himself to
be corrupted by a boy like you----
_Charles._ But look here, Aunt. WALTER WILDFIRE'S all right--he is
_really_; he was a gentleman, and all that, before he took to this
sort of thing, and he writes all his own songs--and ripping they
are, too! His line is the Broken-down Plunger, you know. (Mrs. T.
_repudiates any knowledge of this type_.) He's got one song about a
Hansom Cabby who has to drive the girl he was engaged to before he
was broke, and she's married some other fellow since, and has got her
little daughter with her, and the child gives him his fare, and--well,
somehow it makes you feel choky when he sings it. Even Mr. CURPHEW
couldn't find anything to complain of in WALTER WILDFIRE!
_Althea (who has entered during this speech)._ Mamma, I can't find
your spectacles anywhere. Mr. CURPHEW, who is this WALTER WILDFIRE
CHARLES is so enthusiastic about?
_Mrs. T. (hastily)._ No one that Mr. CURPHEW knows anything of--and
certainly not a fit person to be mentioned in _your_ hearing, my dear,
so let us say no more about it. Supper must be on the table by this
time; we had better go in, and try to find a more befitting topic
for conversation. CHARLES, have the goodness to put this--this
_disgraceful_ paper in your pocket, and let me see no more of it. I
shall get your Uncle to speak to you seriously after supper.
_Mr. T. (aloud, with alacrity)._ Yes, my love, I shall certainly speak
to CHARLES after supper--very seriously. (_To himself._) And end this
awful uncertainty!
_Curph. (to himself, as he follows to the Dining-room)._ "Not a fit
person to be mentioned in her hearing!" I wonder. Would _she_ say
the same if she knew? When shall I be able to tell her? It would be
madness as yet.
SCENE III.--_The Study._ Mr. TOOVEY and CHARLES _are alone together_.
Mr. TOOVEY _has found it impossible to come to the point_.
_Charles (looking at his watch)._ I say, Uncle, I'm afraid I must
trouble you for that wigging at once, if I'm going to catch my train
back. You've only seven-and-a-half minutes left to exhort me in, so
make the most of it.
_Mr. T. (with embarrassment)._ Yes, CHARLES, but--I don't wish to be
hard on you, my boy--we are all liable to err, and--and, in point of
fact, the reason I was a little upset at the mention of the Eldorado
is, that a very dear old friend of mine, CHARLES, has lately lost a
considerable sum through investing in a Company of the same name--and,
just for the moment, it struck me that it might have been the
music-hall--which of course is absurd, eh?
_Charles._ Rather! He couldn't possibly have lost it in the
_music-hall_, Uncle; it's ridiculous!
_Mr. T. (relieved)._ Just what I thought. A man in
his--ah--responsible position--oh no. But he's lost it in this other
Company. And they've demanded a hundred and seventy-five pounds over
and above the five hundred he paid on his shares. Now _you_ know the
law. Can they _do_ that, CHARLES? Is he legally liable to pay?
_Charles._ Couldn't possibly say without knowing all the facts. It's a
Limited Company, I suppose?
_Mr. T._ I--I don't know, CHARLES, but I can show you the official
document which--ah--happens to be in my hands. I'm afraid I didn't
examine it very carefully--I was too upset. (_He goes to his
secretaire, and returns with a paper, which he offers for_ CHARLES'S
_inspection_.) You won't mind my covering up the name? My--my friend
wouldn't care for it to be seen--I'm sure.
_Charles (glances at the top of the paper, and roars with laughter)._
I say, Uncle, your friend _must_ be a jolly old juggins!
_Mr. T. (miserably)._ I don't think he could be described as _jolly_
just now, CHARLES.
_Charles._ No, but I mean, not all there, you know--trifle weak in the
upper story.
_Mr. T. (with dignity)._ He never professed to be a man of business,
CHARLES, any more than myself, and his inexperience was shamefully
abused--_most_ shamefully!
_Charles._ Abused! But look here, Uncle, do you mean to say you don't
see that this is a dividend warrant!
_Mr. T._ I believe that is what they call it. And--and is he bound to
send them a cheque for it at once, CHARLES?
_Charles._ Send them a cheque? Great SCOTT! Why it _is_ a cheque!
They're paying _him_. It's the half-yearly dividend on his five
hundred, at the rate of seventy per cent. And he was going to----Oh,
Lord!
_Mr. T. (rising, and shaking C.'s hands with effusion)._ My _dear_
CHARLES; how can I thank you? If you _knew_ what a load you've taken
off my mind! Then the Company _isn't_ bankrupt--it's paying seventy
per cent.! Why, I needn't mind telling your Aunt. (_With restored
complacency._) Of course, my boy, I have never occupied myself with
City matters--but, none the less, I believe I can trust my natural
shrewdness--I had a sort of instinct, CHARLES, from the first, that
that mine was perfectly sound. I knew I could trust LARKINS.
_Charles._ _You_, Uncle! Then it was _you_ who was your friend all the
time? Oh, you're really _too_ rich, you know!
_Mr. T._ I have never desired it; but it will certainly be a very
useful addition to our--ah--modest income, CHARLES. But you should
check yourself, my boy, in this--ah--immoderate laughter. There is
nothing that I can see to cause such mirth in the fact of your Uncle's
having made a fortunate investment in a gold-mine.
_Charles (as soon as he can speak)._ But it _ain't_ a mine, Uncle,
it--it's the music-hall! Give you my word it is. If you don't believe
me, look at the address on the warrant, and you'll see it's the same
as on this programme. You're a shareholder in the Eldorado Palace of
Varieties, Piccadilly!
_Mr. T. (falling back)._ No, CHARLES! I--I acquired them in the most
perfect innocence!
[Illustration: "If I were you, I wouldn't mention this to Aunt."]
_Charles._ Innocence! I'd back you for that against an entire
Infant School, Uncle. But I say, I must be off now. If I were you, I
_wouldn't_ mention this to Aunt. And look here. I'd better leave you
this. (_He hands him the Eldorado programme._) It's more in your line
than mine now.
[_He goes out, and is heard chuckling in the hall and down to the
front gate._
_Mr. T. (alone)._ That ribald, unfeeling boy! _What_ a Sunday I've
had! And how am I ever to tell CORNELIA now? (_A bell rings._) That's
to call the servants up to prayers. (_He stuffs the programme into
his pocket hastily, and rises._) No, I can't. I _can't_ conduct family
prayers with the knowledge that I'm a shareholder in--in a Palace of
Varieties! I shall slip quietly off to bed.
_Ph[oe]be (entering)._ Missus wished me to tell you she was only
waiting for you, Sir.
_Mr. T._ PH[OE]BE, tell your mistress I'm feeling poorly again, and
have gone to bed. (_To himself._) If I could only be sure I don't talk
in my sleep!
[_He shuffles upstairs._