MR. VOYSEY. No, why should I? Here, George Booth, you shall halve it
with me.
MR. GEORGE BOOTH. I'm damned if I do.
MR. COLPUS. [_proceeding, conveniently deaf._] You remember that at the
meeting we had of the parents and friends to decide on the positions of
the names of the poor fellows and the regiments and coats of arms and so
on . . when Hugh said so violently that he disapproved of the war and
made all those remarks about land-lords and Bibles and said he thought
of putting in a figure of Britannia blushing for shame or something . .
I'm beginning to fear that may have created a bad impression.
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Why should they mind . . what on earth does Hugh
know about war? He couldn't tell a battery horse from a bandsman. I
don't pretend to criticise art. I think the window'd be very pretty if
it wasn't so broken up into bits.
MR. GEORGE BOOTH. [_fortified by his "damned" and his last glass of
port._] These young men are so ready with their disapproval. Criticism
starts in the cradle nowadays. When I was young, people weren't always
questioning this and questioning that.
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Lack of discipline.
MR. GEORGE BOOTH. [_hurrying on._] The way a man now even stops to think
what he's eating and drinking. And in religious matters . . Vicar, I put
it to you . . there's no uniformity at all.
MR. COLPUS. Ah . . I try to keep myself free from the disturbing
influences of modern thought.
MR. GEORGE BOOTH. Young men must be forming their own opinions about
this and their opinions about that. You know, Edward, you're worse even
than Hugh is.
EDWARD. [_glancing up mildly at this sudden attack._] What have I done,
Mr. Booth?
MR. GEORGE BOOTH. [_not the readiest of men._] Well . . aren't you one
of those young men who go about the world making difficulties?
EDWARD. What sort of difficulties?
MR. GEORGE BOOTH. [_triumphantly._] Just so . . I never can make out.
Surely when you're young you can ask the advice of your elders and when
you grow up you find Laws . . lots of laws divine and human laid down
for our guidance. [_Well in possession of the conversation he spreads
his little self._] I look back over a fairly long life and . . perhaps I
should say by Heaven's help . . I find nothing that I can honestly
reproach myself with. And yet I don't think I ever took more than five
minutes to come to a decision upon any important point. One's private
life is, I think, one's own affair . . I should allow no one to pry into
that. But as to worldly things . . well, I have come into several sums
of money and my capital is still intact . . ask your father. [MR. VOYSEY
_nods gravely_.] I've never robbed any man. I've never lied over
anything that mattered. As a citizen I pay my taxes without grumbling
very much. Yes, and I sent conscience money too upon one occasion. I
consider that any man who takes the trouble can live the life of a
gentleman. [_and he finds that his cigar is out._]
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_not to be outdone by this display of virtue._]
Well, I'm not a conceited man, but--
TREGONING. Are you sure, Booth?
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Shut up. I was going to say when my young cub of a
brother-in-law-to-be interrupted me, that =Training=, for which we
all have to be thankful to you, Sir, has much to do with it. [_suddenly
he pulls his trousers against his legs._] I say, I'm scorching! D'you
want another cigar, Denis?
TREGONING. No, thank you.
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. I do.
_And he glances round, but_ TREGONING _sees a box on the table and
reaches it. The Vicar gets up._
MR. COLPUS. M-m-m-must be taking my departure.
MR. VOYSEY. Already!
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_frowning upon the cigar box._] No, not those.
Where are the Ramon Allones? What on earth has Honor done with them?
MR. VOYSEY. Spare time for a chat with Mrs. Voysey before you go. She
has ideas about a children's tea fight.
MR. COLPUS. Certainly I will.
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_scowling helplessly around._] My goodness! . . one
can never find anything in this house.
MR. COLPUS. I won't say good-bye then.
_He is sliding through the half opened door when_ ETHEL _meets him
flinging it wide. She is the younger daughter, the baby of the family,
but twenty-three now._
MR. VOYSEY. I say, it's cold again to-night! An ass of an architect who
built this place . . such a draught between these two doors.
_He gets up to draw the curtain. When he turns_ COLPUS _has disappeared,
while_ ETHEL _has been followed into the room by_ ALICE MAITLAND, _who
shuts the door after her_. MISS ALICE MAITLAND _is a young lady of any
age to thirty. Nor need her appearance alter for the next fifteen years;
since her nature is healthy and well-balanced. She possesses indeed the
sort of athletic chastity which is a characteristic charm of Northern
spinsterhood. It mayn't be a pretty face, but it has alertness and
humour; and the resolute eyes and eyebrows are a more innocent edition
of_ MR. VOYSEY'S, _who is her uncle_. ETHEL _goes straight to her
father_ [_though her glance is on_ DENIS _and his on her_] _and chirps,
birdlike, in her spoiled-child way_.
ETHEL. We think you've stayed in here quite long enough.
MR. VOYSEY. That's to say, Ethel thinks Denis has been kept out of her
pocket much too long.
ETHEL. Ethel wants billiards . . not proper billiards . . snooker or
something. Oh, Papa, what a dessert you've eaten. Greedy pig!
ALICE _is standing behind_ EDWARD, _considering his hair-parting
apparently_.
ALICE. Crack me a filbert, please, Edward . . I had none.
EDWARD. [_jumping up, rather formally, well-mannered._] I beg your
pardon, Alice. Won't you sit down?
ALICE. No.
MR. VOYSEY. [_taking_ ETHEL _on his knee_.] Come here, puss. Have you
made up your mind yet what you want for a wedding present?
ETHEL. [_rectifying a stray hair in his beard._] After mature
consideration, I decide on a cheque.
MR. VOYSEY. Do you!
ETHEL. Yes, I think that a cheque will give most scope to your
generosity. Of course, if you desire to add any trimmings in the shape
of a piano or a Turkey carpet you may . . and Denis and I will be very
grateful. But I think I'd let yourself go over a cheque.
MR. VOYSEY. You're a minx.
ETHEL. What is the use of having money if you don't spend it on me?
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_giving up the cigar search._] Here, who's going to
play?
MR. GEORGE BOOTH. [_pathetically as he gets up._] Well, if my wrist will
hold out . .
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_To_ TREGONING.] No, don't you bother to look for
them. [_He strides from the room, his voice echoing through the hall._]
Honor, where are those Ramon Allones?
ALICE. [_calling after._] She's in the drawing-room with Auntie and Mr.
Colpus.
MR. VOYSEY. Now I should suggest that you and Denis go and take off the
billiard table cover. You'll find folding it up is a very excellent
amusement.
_He illustrates his meaning with his table napkin and by putting
together the tips of his forefingers, roguishly._
ETHEL. I am not going to blush. I do kiss Denis . . occasionally . .
when he asks me.
MR. GEORGE BOOTH. [_teasing her._] You are blushing.
ETHEL. I am not. If you think we're ashamed of being in love, we're not,
we're very proud of it. We will go and take off the billiard table cover
and fold it up . . and then you can come in and play. Denis, my dear,
come along solemnly and if you flinch I'll never forgive you. [_she
marches off and reaches the door before her defiant dignity breaks down;
then suddenly_--] Denis, I'll race you.
_And she flashes out._ DENIS, _loyal, but with no histrionic instincts,
follows her rather sheepishly_.
DENIS. Ethel, I can't after dinner.
MR. VOYSEY. Women play that game better than men. A man shuffles through
courtship with one eye on her relations.
_The Major comes stalking back, followed in a fearful flurry by his
elder sister_, HONOR. _Poor_ HONOR [_her female friends are apt to refer
to her as Poor_ HONOR] _is a phenomenon common to most large families.
From her earliest years she has been bottle washer to her brothers.
While they were expensively educated she was grudged schooling; her
highest accomplishment was meant to be mending their clothes. Her fate
is a curious survival of the intolerance of parents towards her sex
until the vanity of their hunger for sons had been satisfied. In a less
humane society she would have been exposed at birth. But if a very
general though patronising affection, accompanied by no consideration at
all, can bestow happiness_, HONOR _is not unhappy in her survival. At this
moment, however, her life is a burden._
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Honor, they are not in the dining-room.
HONOR. But they must be!--Where else can they be?
_She has a habit of accentuating one word in each sentence and often the
wrong one._
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. That's what you ought to know.
MR. VOYSEY. [_as he moves towards the door._] Well . . will you have a
game?
MR. GEORGE BOOTH. I'll play you fifty up, not more. I'm getting old.
MR. VOYSEY. [_stopping at a dessert dish._] Yes, these are good apples
of Bearman's. I think six of my trees are spoilt this year.
HONOR. Here you are, Booth.
_She triumphantly discovers the discarded box, at which the Major
becomes pathetic with indignation._
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Oh, Honor, don't be such a fool. These are what
we've been smoking. I want the Ramon Allones.
HONOR. I don't know the difference.
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. No, you don't, but you might learn.
MR. VOYSEY. [_in a voice like the crack of a very fine whip._] Booth.
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_subduedly._] What is it, sir?
MR. VOYSEY. Look for your cigars yourself. Honor, go back to your
reading and your sewing or whatever you were fiddling at, and fiddle in
peace.
MR. VOYSEY _departs, leaving the room rather hushed_. MR. BOOTH _has not
waited for this parental display. Then_ ALICE _insinuates a remark very
softly_.
ALICE. Have you looked in the Library?
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. [_relapsing to an injured mutter._] Where's Emily?
HONOR. Upstairs with little Henry, he woke up and cried.
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Letting her wear herself to rags over the child . . !
HONOR. Well, she won't let me go.
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Why don't you stop looking for those cigars?
HONOR. If you don't mind, I want a reel of blue silk now I'm here.
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. I daresay they are in the Library. What a house!
_He departs._
HONOR. Booth is so trying.
ALICE. Honor, why do you put up with it?
HONOR. Someone has to.
ALICE. [_discreetly nibbling a nut, which_ EDWARD _has cracked for
her_.] I'm afraid I think Master Major Booth ought to have been taken in
hand early . . with a cane.
HONOR. [_as she vaguely burrows into corners._] Papa did. But it's never
prevented him booming at us . . oh, ever since he was a baby. Now he's
flustered me so I simply can't think where this blue silk is.
ALICE. All the Pettifers desired to be remembered to you, Edward.
HONOR. I must do without it. [_but she goes on looking._] I think,
Alice, that we're a very difficult family . . except perhaps Edward.
EDWARD. Why except me?
HONOR. [_Who has only excepted out of politeness to present company._]
Well, you may be difficult . . to yourself. [_Then she starts to go,
threading her way through the disarranged chairs._] Mr. Colpus will
shout so loud at Mother and she hates people to think she's so very
deaf. I thought Mary Pettifer looking old . . [_and she talks herself
out of the room._]
ALICE. [_after her._] She's getting old.
_Now_ ALICE _does sit down; as if she'd be glad of her tete-a-tete_.
ALICE. I was glad not to spend August abroad for once. We drove into
Cheltenham to a dance . . carpet. I golfed a lot.
EDWARD. How long were you with them?
ALICE. Not a fortnight. It doesn't seem three months since I was here,
does it?
EDWARD. I'm down so very little.
ALICE. I'm here a disgraceful deal.
EDWARD. You know they're always pleased.
ALICE. Well, being a homeless person! But what a cart-load to descend
all at once . . yesterday and to-day. The Major and Emily . . Emily's
not at all well. Hugh and Mrs. Hugh. And me. Are you staying?
EDWARD. No. I must get a word with my father . .
ALICE. A business life is not healthy for you, Edward. You look more
like half-baked pie-crust than usual.
EDWARD. [_a little enviously._] You're very well.
ALICE. I'm always well and nearly always happy.
MAJOR BOOTH _returns. He has the right sort of cigar in his mouth and is
considerably mollified._
ALICE. You found them?
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Of course, they were there. Thank you very much,
Alice. Now I want a knife.
ALICE. I must present you with a cigar-cutter, Booth.
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. I hate 'em. [_he eyes the dessert disparagingly._]
Nothing but silver ones.
EDWARD _hands him a carefully opened pocket knife_.
Thank you, Edward. And I must take one of the candles. Something's gone
wrong with the library ventilator and you never can see a thing in that
room.
ALICE. Is Mrs. Hugh there?
MAJOR BOOTH VOYSEY. Writing letters. Things are neglected, Edward,
unless one is constantly on the look out. The Pater only cares for his
garden. I must speak seriously to Honor.
_He has returned the knife, still open, and now having lit his cigar at
the candle he carries this off._
ALICE. Honor has the patience of a . . of an old maid.
EDWARD. Her mission in life isn't a pleasant one. [_He gives her a nut,
about the fifteenth._] Here; 'scuse fingers.
ALICE. Thank you. [_looking at him, with her head on one side and her
face more humorous than ever._] Edward, why have you given up proposing
to me?
_He starts, flushes; then won't be outdone in humour._
EDWARD. One can't go on proposing for ever.
ALICE. [_reasonably._] Why not? Have you seen anyone you like better?
EDWARD. No.
ALICE. Well . . I miss it.
EDWARD. What satisfaction did you find in refusing me?
ALICE. [_as she weighs the matter._] I find satisfaction in feeling that
I'm wanted.
EDWARD. Without any intention of giving yourself . . throwing yourself
away.
ALICE. [_teasing his sudden earnestness._] Ah, now you come from mere
vanity to serious questions.
EDWARD. Mine were always serious questions to you.
ALICE. That's a fault I find in you, Edward; all questions are serious
to you. I call you a perfect little pocket-guide to life . . all
questions and answers; what to eat, drink and avoid, what to believe and
what to say . . all in the same type, the same importance attached to
each.
EDWARD. [_sententiously._] Well . . everything matters.
ALICE. [_making a face._] D'you plan out every detail of your life . .
every step you take . . every mouthful?
EDWARD. That would be waste of thought. One must lay down principles.
ALICE. I prefer my plan, I always do what I know I want to do. Crack me
another nut.
EDWARD. Haven't you had enough?
ALICE. I =know= I want one more.
_He cracks another, with a sigh which sounds ridiculous in that
connection._
EDWARD. Well, if you've never had to decide anything very serious . .
ALICE. [_With great gravity._] Everything's serious.
EDWARD. Everything isn't vital.
ALICE. [_skilfully manoeuvring the subject._] I've answered vital
questions. I knew that I didn't want to marry you . . each time.
EDWARD. Oh, then you didn't just make a rule of saying no.
ALICE. As you proposed . . on principle? No, I always gave you a fair
chance. I'll give you one now if you like.
_He rouses himself to play up to this outrageous piece of flirting._
EDWARD. I'm not to be caught.