_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 latchkey 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 my
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 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?
_[He thrusts her gently aside and passes out with the_ S.; _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 harm 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!
[Illustration]
_C's. M. (falling at his feet)._ Say, CONRAD, you will some day pardon
me?
_Con. (bitterly, as he regards his maimed hands.)_ I will,--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._
[Illustration: "RUNNING HIS EYE OVER THEM".
_Colonel North and Lord Dunraven._ "COME ALONG WITH US, GRANDOLPH.
WE'VE GOT A BETTER LOT THAN THAT."]
"RUNNING HIS EYE OVER THEM."
GRANDOLPH _muses_:--"My Kingdom for a horse!"
Ah, well!
The question is,--which _is_ my Kingdom?
I'm bound to own there _is_ a spell
In Turfdom, Stabledom, and Ringdom,
The spell that Lord GEORGE BENTICK knew,
As DIZZY tells, _I_ feel it too.
He won brief leadership, who might
Have won the Derby! Which was better?
There's rapture in a racer's flight,
There's rust on the official fetter.
Of me the Press tells taradiddles!
Well, I do set the fools strange riddles!
"Fourth Party!" He was no bad start
For a new stable, but he's done with.
"Tory Democracy!" No heart!
But 'tis a mount I've had good fun with.
"Leader!" "Economy!" "Sobriety!"
My Stable has not lacked variety.
What does NORTH say? A ragged lot?
Try a new string? And you, DUNRAVEN?
Humph! Fancy does blow cold and hot.
Audacious now, and now half craven.
Well, freak's an unexhausted fount.
Mentor, can _you_ guess my next mount?
[Illustration: A CAREFUL MAN.
_Host._ "HULLO! WATERING MY CHAMPAGNE! AFRAID OF ITS GETTING INTO
YOUR _HEAD_, I SUPPOSE?"
_Guest._ "No! IT'S NOT MY _HEAD_ I'M AFRAID OF WITH _YOUR_
CHAMPAGNE!"]
* * * * *