MRS. WARREN. Walking with a man, a man who is married and not on the
best terms with his wife, accepting flowers from him, a Presbyterian,
unchaperoned. Oh! It is so unbecoming ... so--so unladylike, not to say
indiscreet. Oh! Why, when I was a girl----
BETTY. I know. (_She goes close to her mother._) But things have changed
so since then, dear.
MRS. WARREN. Not in Northampton, thank heaven. Here, at least, we still
keep some of the old propriety. Oh, Betty, this bold indiscretion of
yours would have killed your poor, dear father!
BETTY. (_Turning away_) Perhaps that's what _did_ ... too much
propriety.
MRS. WARREN. Did you say something, Betty?
BETTY. I am sorry, dear ... truly sorry if I have caused you any
anxiety.
MRS. WARREN. We must cultivate the doctor's wife at once. There must be
no room for gossip among the ladies of Northampton.
BETTY. Cultivate Mrs. Hunter? Oh, I would love to. She is a delightful
person. Don't you like her, Mother?
MRS. WARREN. She seems very nice, but, of course, one must be very
careful about strangers.
BETTY. She is very fond of outdoor life, and all that sort of thing. Oh,
she is a regular sport!
MRS. WARREN. Betty! Let me never hear such a remark from you again.
Sport! Am I to understand, then ... am I to understand that Mrs. Hunter
is one of those dreadful mannish sort of persons who---- (_The knocker
sounds._) Oh, dear me! I wonder who that can be?
BETTY. If you don't mind, Mother, I shall go up to my room. I want to do
a water-color sketch of these flowers while they are still fresh.
MRS. WARREN. Stop here a bit, Betty.
(_CLARA enters from the hall._)
CLARA. It is Mrs. Romney, ma'am.
MRS. WARREN. Oh, do have her come right in, Clara ... and Clara, serve
the tea at once. (_CLARA goes out._) Mrs. Romney--oh, dear ... such a
bombastic sort of a person, so to speak.
BETTY. She was educated in London, you know.
MRS. WARREN. Yes, poor dear, she has so much to live down. It must be
dreadful to have been educated in London ... such a naughty place. Think
of the dreadful environment, my dear, London!
(_MRS. ROMNEY enters._)
MRS. ROMNEY. Good afternoon, Mrs. Warren. How do you do, Betty, dear?
MRS. WARREN. Do sit down, Mrs. Romney.
MRS. ROMNEY. Did I hear you speaking of London as I came in, Mrs.
Warren?
MRS. WARREN. London? Speaking of London? Were we speaking of London,
Betty? Yes, I believe I did say----
MRS. ROMNEY. Dear old London ... how I long for it!
MRS. WARREN. But my dear Mrs. Romney, London surely hasn't the ... the
refinement of Northampton.
MRS. ROMNEY. Northampton! Ah! Why, this place is as far from the world
as ... as the South Sea Islands!
MRS. WARREN. Mrs. Romney, how--how can you even think such a thing? Why,
in the South Sea Islands, I am told, the people wear nothing but straw
skirts ... and pirates, pirates take things--unmentionable things from
innocent travelers. One could not accuse the people of Northampton of
such things. Even our shop-keepers are gentlemen compared to those
dreadful people who live in the South Seas.
MRS. ROMNEY. The people of the South Sea Islands are at
least--interesting.
MRS. WARREN. Perfect savages!
MRS. ROMNEY. But, my dear, _all_ our forefathers were savages, you know
... hitting each other over the head with clubs, hanging from palm trees
by their tails, and all that sort of thing.
MRS. WARREN. Oh, dear!
MRS. ROMNEY. And the longer I live in Northampton, my dear, the more I'm
convinced that it wasn't so very many generations ago, either.
MRS. WARREN. Oh ... oh ... oh! Betty, you may go! You will excuse the
dear child, I am sure. She has duties to perform which----
MRS. ROMNEY. Oh, yes, certainly.
BETTY. (_She rises and collects her flowers_) Good afternoon, Mrs.
Romney. Shall I see you at Mrs. Hunter's tea Thursday?
MRS. ROMNEY. Yes, dear, charmed.
BETTY. Good-bye.
(_MRS. ROMNEY bows. BETTY goes out left. CLARA enters with the tea
things._)
MRS. WARREN. You will have a cup of tea, Mrs. Romney?
MRS. ROMNEY. Yes, thank you so much. So refreshing, nothing like tea for
nerves, is there, really? Half a cup ... I have just come from Mrs.
Hunter's. Both cream and sugar, yes, thank you so much. Such a charming
lady, Mrs. Hunter ... perfectly charming, my dear, perfectly charming.
So witty, so clever, so vivacious ... but dreadfully jealous.
MRS. WARREN. Jealous? Jealous of whom?
MRS. ROMNEY. She is very fond of her husband.
MRS. WARREN. (_Nervously_) Of whom ... of whom is she jealous?
MRS. ROMNEY. No one in particular, at present, I think.