MRS. BOBBINS. But you know I'm the most devoted--the most affectionate
wife in the world, and have no thoughts but of you, and our dear
little boy--and so you abuse the rectitude of my principles--
AUGUS. The little cherub!
MRS. BOBBINS. That reminds me that you wrote me word, that the
Highgate air has quite set the darling up again, and that old nurse,
Jones, was to bring him home to-day.
AUGUS. Yes, Bobby is coming home to-day.
MRS. BOBBINS. The little pet! He is my only joy--my only hope.
AUGUS. Yes, yes--a remarkably fine little chap--and extremely like his
papa! Ahem! can more be said--
MRS. BOBBINS. By the by, how inconvenient his coming back will be just
now, that we are without a servant.
AUGUS. You had better let Rebecca stay.
MRS. BOBBINS. Augustus! Mr. Bobbins! What again! You exasperate me!
No, sir, she shall not stay another day, if I have to run over half
London to find her substitute.
AUGUS. Very well, my dear. You are fond of exercise.
MRS. BOBBINS. This is too much to put up with!--past all bearing! I'll
be even with you for this, depend upon it. No, no, you needn't think
to gain your ends, Mr. Bobbins--I'll go round to all the tradespeople
this very minute. (_putting on her bonnet and shawl, which are upon
table, R._) I'll soon put a stop to this! I'll soon put a stop to
this!
_Exit, in a passion, C. to L._
AUGUS. What a singular woman Constantia is when she once takes an idea
into her head. No human argument now would ever persuade her that I am
not violently smitten with her own maid. Ridiculous notion! ha, ha!
and the best of the joke is--for reasons of a strictly private nature,
I rather encourage the idea--commit myself with Rebecca! No, no--I
look a little higher than that! The interesting object of my secret
intentions, is in no way beneath me--quite the reverse--she is above
me by a flight of stairs. It is really quite distressing, to think so
charming a woman as Mrs. Duval, should be obliged to occupy a two pair
back; but then, how tastefully she sets off her room! Clever creature!
she can turn her hand to anything--Berlin wool, potichomania,
crotchet, embroidery-- By the way, I begin to suspect that name of
hers, Duval, is only assumed--she doesn't look to me at all like a
Frenchwoman--and the only approach to anything in the shape of a
husband I have been able to discover, is this morning gown, which I
found one morning over a chair back in her room, and which, in a
moment of pecuniary pressure, I induced her to sell me for about four
times its value. It shows the fall in my back to some advantage, but
it's an uncommonly tight fit, although I have had it let out twice
since I bought it. I wonder how she came by it? No matter--I'm
convinced I have no rival--she is evidently pleased with my
attentions, and if it hadn't been for Mrs. Bobbins's ill-timed return
from the country, I should--(_crosses to L., sees MRS. BROWN at C.
D._) By Jove! here she is. It's lucky that my wife's not at home.
(_crosses to R._
_Enter MRS. BROWN, C. from R., goes down, L._
MRS. BROWN. (_seeing BOBBINS, R._) Ah, Mr. Bobbins! Good morning.
AUGUS. (R.) Good morning to you, my dear Mrs. Duval. This _is_ an
honour! Dare I venture to hope your visit is to me?
MRS. BROWN. To you--the idea! Hardly.
AUGUS. And why not, Mrs. Duval? Why may I not judge of your feelings
by my own?--for as the needle is attracted by the pole--
MRS. BROWN. (_interrupting him_) Oh, dear me! Ha, ha, ha! really, Mr.
Bobbins, you'll be a gallant as long as you live. I am sorry to
interrupt your ecstacies, but pray can I speak a word to Mrs. Bobbins?
AUGUS. To my wife?
MRS. BROWN. Yes--I understand she has come home?
AUGUS. Alas! yes.
MRS. BROWN. Alas? Why, you ought to be delighted! (_sadly_) How
fortunate Mrs. Bobbins is to be happy at home with her husband. Ah,
how I envy her.
AUGUS. (_delighted_) Envy her! Mrs. Duval!
MRS. BROWN. I do, indeed, with all my heart.
AUGUS. (_endeavouring to put his arm round her waist_) _Dear_ Mrs.
Duval! Oh, these words--this tender confession!
MRS. BROWN. (_retiring, L._) Why, Mr. Bobbins, are you taking leave of
your senses? If you wish me to remain in this room, sir, you must
restrain yourself within proper bounds.
AUGUS. Bounds, madam! There are no bounds to the emotions of the
heart. (_throwing himself on his knees_)
MRS. BROWN. Oh, my dear sir, do compose yourself--I beg of you. You
are _too_ poetical, you are, indeed. (_aside_) Ridiculous creature!
AUGUS. Tell me--only tell me--did you receive those two pots of Tom
Thumb geraniums--I know your beautiful passion for flowers.
MRS. BROWN. Yes, I thank you--but I can't possibly think of accepting
them--in short, I must forbid all further nonsense of the kind. I give
you fair warning, that if you persist in it any longer, I shall tell
Mrs. Bobbins, I shall, indeed, and be compelled to leave my lodgings.
AUGUS. Oh, don't be so cruel! Don't say that!
MRS. BROWN. Not that I have any great affection for them either, for
if it hadn't been for poor Br--(_recollecting herself_) for reasons
only interesting to myself, I should have given notice long ago.
AUGUS. For "poor" who, madam? You excite my curiosity. I trust there
is no gentleman in the case?
MRS. BROWN. Yes, but there is, though--but I entreat you to ask no
questions. (_wiping her eyes_) Ah, Mr. Bobbins, mine is the most
painful, the most trying of positions to an affectionate and faithful
disposition--
AUGUS. No scoundrel has dared to neglect--to abandon you? Ah, if you
would but accept of the consolation of a discreet friend, and if any
little assistance of a different kind--
(_taking out purse._
MRS. BROWN. (_offended_) You mistake my meaning, sir, altogether.
Assistance! no, sir, I am able to earn quite sufficient for my
support, and to afford myself some comforts besides--indeed, the
object of this visit, was to inquire of Mrs. Bobbins, Rebecca's
character, as I am informed she is about to leave her service.
_REBECCA has entered during this speech, but on seeing them, draws
back, L. C. D._
REBECCA. (_aside_) Ullo! master and Mrs. Duval!
(_listens, C._
AUGUS. (_aside_) Rebecca's character! The devil! that will never
do--she'll be telling her a pack of lies. (_aloud_) In the absence of
my wife, perhaps I shall do as well. I am afraid, ma'am, Rebecca will
never suit you.
MRS. BROWN. Pray, may I ask why?
AUGUS. Oh, she's an idle, gossipping, impertinent young hussy, and
burns no end of coals.
REBECCA. (_aside_) That's how you speak of me behind my back, is it?
AUGUS. And then, ma'am, her conduct in another respect, to a lady of
your extreme propriety, I am quite sure would be highly objectionable.
She encourages a great many followers, and with one young man in
particular, an articled clerk--she has--
REBECCA. (_coming down, C._) It isn't true--I haven't--don't believe
him, ma'am.
AUGUS. (_aside_) Confound it! Has she overheard me?
REBECCA. Don't believe a word he says, ma'am. It's all through him
that I've lost my place.
AUGUS. Silence, Rebecca! Go and fetch my hat, I'm going out.
REBECCA. And as to the young lawyer, if I were the gossip he says I
am, I could tell a different story.
AUGUS. Silence, I say, Rebecca! Did you hear me tell you to go and
fetch my hat and coat?
REBECCA. (_going, R._) Well, I'm going for your hat and coat.
_Exit, in a passion, R. D._
MRS. BROWN. So, sir, I perceive you are a general admirer of the sex.
AUGUS. My dear Mrs. Duval, you surely wouldn't pay any attention to
the aspersions of a discharged servant maid. You'll excuse my taking
off my morning gown. (_aside, and taking off morning gown, which he
hangs on chair L. of R. table_) I wouldn't have lost this opportunity
of shewing her the fall in my back for something.
_Re-enter REBECCA, R. D., with hat, &c._
REBECCA. (_giving him the coat_) Go and take away a poor servant's
character like that--I've a good mind--
AUGUS. (_interrupting her_) Rebecca!
MRS. BROWN. (L.) Never mind, Rebecca, I have seen enough of you to
think that you will suit me, so I shall take you all the same. When
can you come?
REBECCA. Thank you, ma'am--thank you! When you like, ma'am--now,
directly.
MRS. BROWN. No, not till to-morrow--not till you have given Mrs.
Bobbins proper notice.
REBECCA. Yes, ma'am--thank you, ma'am. (_to BOBBINS_) You ought to be
ashamed of yourself, sir, that you ought--an old gentleman like you!
AUGUS. Silence, Rebecca! If any one should call while I am out, tell
them to wait--I shan't be long. I have the honour to wish you a good
morning, Mrs. Duval.
MRS. BROWN. Good morning, sir.
_BOBBINS looks at MRS. BROWN, sighs, and goes out, C. to L._
Seductive old gentleman! Very well, then, Rebecca, I shall expect you
to-morrow.
REBECCA. Yes, ma'am.
MRS. BROWN. (_to herself, as she leaves the stage_) When shall I hear
from my poor Vandyke?
_Exit, C. to R._
REBECCA. Oh, that wicked old master of mine!
_Exit, R. D._
_The C. D. opens very quietly, and VANDYKE BROWN enters, stealthily,
wearing a Crimean beard and moustachios, his throat bare, and an
artist's steeple crowned hat, with a broad brim._
VAN. There's nobody here! Come, that's lucky--her surprise will be the
greater. I've been watching at the corner of the street for the last
half hour, and contrived to slip in as the door was ajar, while the
servant stepped over the way. My heart beats like one of the drums I
left behind me, at the thought of meeting my wife again after the best
part of a twelvemonth's chequered absence in the Crimea--driven from
my native land and the cultivation of the classic style of art, by the
detestable envy of the Royal Academicians, the cupidity of the
butcher, and the rapacity of the baker. A pretty life I had of it in
the camp--sometimes photographic artist, sometimes--tell it not ye
muses--a mixture of cook, valet, military secretary, and volunteer.
However, I should soon have made my fortune, for I took more portraits
in the Crimea in a day, than I ever did in London in a year. When one
unlucky evening, just as I was going to raise my terms, I ventured too
far on the Woronzoff Road for the purpose of making a sketch of some
outworks, and all of a sudden, when I least expected it--crack, whiz,
crack! half a dozen minie balls whistled about my ears, and a party of
Russians sallied out of the flank of the Redan, and succeeded in
carrying me into the town--luckily it didn't last long, for at the end
of a month, there was an exchange of prisoners, and I had the good
fortune to be swopped for the favourite jackass of a Russian officer
that had fallen, by accident, into the hands of the allies; so here I
am, just arrived from Portsmouth, totally unknown to my wife, once
again in my own lodgings. What the deuce! fresh paper--Brussels
carpet--and all this French polished mahogany! Upon my word! why, my
wife must have gone mad, or else she must be driving a rare trade in
the Berlin wool and fancy line. Stay, here she comes! I'll get under
the table and give her a surprise. How delighted she'll be to see me!
(_goes towards table, L._) No, it's not my wife. Why, good gracious,
she keeps an assistant, I'll be bound.
_Enter REBECCA, R. D._
REBECCA. (_seeing him_) Who is this?
VAN. Good morning, young woman. You are not a bad-looking girl.
REBECCA. (_aside_) He is mighty familiar. Might I ask how you got in?
I didn't hear any one knock.
VAN. No, the door was ajar--not that it would have made any difference
if it had been shut; you see I've a latch key.
(_shewing one._
REBECCA. A latch key!
VAN. Yes, I took it away with me by mistake in one of my pockets. Go
and tell your mistress, a gentleman with dark hair wishes to speak
with her.
REBECCA. You'll excuse me, sir, but your hair isn't dark.
VAN. Never mind the colour of my hair--do as I tell you--I want to
surprise her.
REBECCA. Missus is not at home, sir. (_aside_) A latch key, and so
intimate with Mrs. Bobbins, who the deuce can he be?
VAN. Very well--as your mistress is not at home, you can get me some
breakfast; I feel rather sharp set.
REBECCA. Breakfast, sir?
VAN. Yes, don't you understand me? B-r-e-a-k, break, f-a-s-t, fast,
breakfast--the girl's silly.