BLORE.
Dandy Dick! That old bit of ma'ogany, sir. They're layin' ten to one
against him.
THE DEAN.
[_With hysterical eagerness._] Are they? I'll take it! I'll take it!
BLORE.
Lord love you, sir--fur how much?
THE DEAN.
Fifty! There's the money. [_Impulsively he crams the notes into
BLORE'S hand and then recoils in horror._] Oh!
[_Sinks into a chair with a groan._
BLORE.
[_In a whisper._] Lor', who'd 'ave thought the Dean was such a ardent
sportsman at 'art? He dursn't give me my notice after this. [_To THE
DEAN._] Of course it's understood, sir, that we keep our little
weaknesses dark. Houtwardly, sir, we remain respectable, and, I 'ope,
respected. [_Putting the notes into his pocket._] I wish you
good-night, sir. [_He walks to the door. THE DEAN makes an effort to
recall him but fails._] And that old man 'as been my pattern and
example for years and years! Oh, Edward Blore, your hidol is
shattered! [_Turning to THE DEAN._] Good-night, sir. May your dreams
be calm and 'appy, and may you have a good run for your money!
[_BLORE goes out--THE DEAN gradually recovers his self-possession._
THE DEAN.
I--I am upset to-night, Blore. Of course you leave this day month.
I--I [_looking round._] Blore! He's gone! If I don't call him back the
Spire may be richer to-morrow by five hundred pounds. I won't dwell on
it. I'll read--I'll read. [_Snatches a book at haphazard from the
bookshelf. There is the sound of falling rain and distant thunder._]
Rain, thunder. How it assimilates with the tempest of my mind! I'll
read. Bless me! This is very strange. [_Reading._] "The Horse and its
Ailments, by John Cox, M. R. C. V. S." It was with the aid of this
volume that I used to doctor my old mare at Oxford. A leaf turned
down. [_Reading._] "Simple remedies for chills--the Bolus." The
helpless beast in my stable is suffering from a chill. Good gracious!
If I allow Blore to risk my fifty pounds on Dandy Dick, surely it
would be advisable to administer this Bolus to the poor animal without
delay. [_Referring to the book hastily._] I have these drugs in my
chest. There's not a moment to be lost! [_Going to the bell and
ringing._] I shall want help. I'll fetch my medicine chest.
[_He lays the book upon the table and goes into the Library._
_BLORE enters._
BLORE.
[_Looking round._] Where is he? The bell rang. The Dean's puzzling me
with his uncommon behavior, that he is.
[_THE DEAN comes from the Library, carrying a large medicine chest. On
encountering BLORE he starts and turns away his head, the picture of
guilt._
THE DEAN.
Blore, I feel it would be a humane act to administer to the poor
ignorant animal in my stable a simple Bolus as a precaution against
chill. I rely upon your aid and discretion in ministering to any guest
in the Deanery.
BLORE.
[_In a whisper._] I see, sir--you ain't going to lose half a chance
for to-morrow, sir--you're a knowin' one, sir, as the sayin' goes!
THE DEAN.
[_Shrinking from BLORE with a groan._] Oh! [_He places the medicine
chest on the table and takes up the book. Handing the book to BLORE
with his finger on a page._] Fetch these humble but necessary articles
from the kitchen--quick. I'll mix the Bolus here. [_BLORE goes out
quickly._] It is exactly seven and twenty years since I last
approached a horse medically. [_He takes off his coat and lays it on a
chair, then rolls his shirt-sleeves up above his elbows and puts on
his glasses._] I trust that this Bolus will not give the animal an
unfair advantage over his competitors. I don't desire that! I don't
desire that! [_BLORE re-enters carrying a tray, on which are a small
flour-barrel and rolling-pin, a white china basin, a carafe of water,
a napkin, and the book. THE DEAN recoils, then guiltily takes the tray
from BLORE and puts it on the table._] Thank you.
BLORE.
[_Holding on to the window curtain and watching THE DEAN._] His eyes
is awful; I don't seem to know the 'appy Deanery when I see such
proceedings a'goin' on at the dead of night.
[_There is a heavy roll of thunder--THE DEAN mixes a pudding and stirs
it with the rolling-pin._
THE DEAN.
The old half-forgotten time returns to me. I am once again a promising
youth at college.
BLORE.
[_To himself._] One would think by his looks that he was goin' to
poison his family instead of--Poison! Poison! Oh, if hanything serious
'appened to the hanimal in our stable there would be nothing in the
way of Bonny-Betsy, the deservin' 'orse I've trusted with my
'ard-earned savings!
THE DEAN.
I am walking once again in the old streets at Oxford, avoiding the
shops where I owe my youthful bills. Bills!
[_He pounds away vigorously with the rolling-pin._
BLORE.
[_To himself._] Where's the stuff I got a month ago to destroy the
hold black retriever that fell hill?
THE DEAN.
Bills!
BLORE.
The dog died--the poison's in my pantry--it couldn't have got used for
cooking purposes.
THE DEAN.
I see the broad meadows and the tall Spire of the college--the Spire!
Oh, my whole life seems made up of Bills and Spires!
BLORE.
[_To himself._] I'll do it! I'll do it!
[_Unseen by The Dean he quickly and quietly steals out by the door._
THE DEAN.
Where are the drugs--the drugs? [_Opening the medicine chest and
bending down over the bottles he pours some drops from a bottle into
the basin._] [_Counting._] Three--four--five--six. [_He replaces the
bottle and takes another._] How fortunate some animals are!
[_Counting._] One--two--three, four. It's done!
[_Taking up the medicine chest he goes with it into the Library._
_As he disappears BLORE re-enters stealthily fingering a small paper
packet._
BLORE.
[_In a whisper._] Strychnine! [_There is a heavy roll of
thunder--BLORE darts to the table, empties the contents of the packet
into the basin, and stirs vigorously with the rolling-pin._] I've
cooked Dandy Dick! I've cooked Dandy Dick! [_He moves from the table
in horror._] Oh! I'm only a hamatoor sportsman and I can't afford a
uncertainty. [_As THE DEAN returns, BLORE starts up guiltily._] Can I
help you any more, Sir?
THE DEAN.
No, remove these dreadful things, and don't let me see you again
to-night!
[_Sits with the basin on his knees, and proceeds to roll the paste._
BLORE.
[_Removing the tray._] It's only an 'orse--it's only an 'orse! But
after to-morrow I'll retire from the Turf, if only to reclaim 'im.
[_He goes out._
THE DEAN.
[_Putting on his coat._] I don't contemplate my humane task with
resignation. The stable is small, and if the animal is restive we
shall be cramped for room. [_The rain is heard._] I shall get a chill
too. [_Seeing SIR TRISTRAM'S coat and cap lying upon the settee._] I
am sure Mardon will lend me this gladly. [_Putting on the coat, which
completely envelops him._] The animal may recognize the garment, and
receive me with kindly feeling. [_Putting on the sealskin cap, which
almost conceals his face._] Ugh! why do I feel this dreadful sinking
at the heart? [_Taking the basin and turning out the lamp._] Oh! if
all followers of the veterinary science are as truly wretched as I am,
what a noble band they must be!
[_The thunder rolls as he goes through the window curtains. SIR
TRISTRAM then enters quietly, smoking, and carrying a lighted candle._
SIR TRISTRAM.
All right; fire still burning. [_Blowing out the candle._] I shall
doze here till daybreak. What a night! I never thought there was so
much thunder in these small country places.
[_GEORGIANA, looking pale and agitated, and wearing a dressing-gown,
enters quickly, carrying an umbrella and a lighted candle._
GEORGIANA.
Which is the nearer way to the stable? I must satisfy myself--I
must--I must! [_Going to the door._]
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Rising suddenly._] Hullo!
GEORGIANA.
[_Shrieks with fright._] Ah!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Hush!
GEORGIANA.
[_Holding out her umbrella._] Stand where you are or I'll fire!
[_Recognizing SIR TRISTRAM._] Tris!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Why, George!
GEORGIANA.
Oh, Tris, I've been dreaming! [_Falling helplessly against Sir
Tristram, who deposits her in a chair._] Oh! oh! oh! Don't look at me!
I'm overtrained. I shall be on my legs again in a minute.
[_She opens her umbrella and hides herself behind it, sobbing
violently._
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Standing over the umbrella in great concern._] My goodness! George,
whatever shall I do? Shall I trot you up and down outside?
GEORGIANA.
Be quiet! [_Sobbing._] What are you fooling about here for? Why can't
you lie quietly in your cot?
SIR TRISTRAM.
Confound that cot! Why, it wouldn't hold my photograph. Where are you
going?
GEORGIANA.
Into the stable to sit with Dandy. The thunder's awful in my room;
when it gets tired it seems to sit down on my particular bit of roof.
I did doze once, and then I had a frightful dream. I dreamt that Dandy
had sold himself to a circus, and that they were hooting him because
he had lost his tail. There's an omen!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Don't, don't--be a man, George, be a man!
GEORGIANA.
[_Shutting her umbrella._] I know I'm dreadfully effeminate.
There--Tidd's himself again!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Bravo!
GEORGIANA.
Ah, Tris--don't think me soft, old man. I'm a lonely, unlucky woman,
and the tail end of this horse is all that's left me in the world to
love and to cling to!
SIR TRISTRAM.
No, by Jove! I'm not such a mean cur as that! Swop halves and take his
head, George, my boy.
GEORGIANA.
Not I! I'm like a doating mother to my share of Dandy, and it's all
the dearer because it's an invalid. I'm off.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Come along! [_Turning towards the window, she following him, he
suddenly stops and looks at her, and seizes her hand._] George, I
never guessed that you were so tender-hearted.
GEORGIANA.
Well, I'm not.
SIR TRISTRAM.
And you've robbed me to-night of an old friend--a pal.
GEORGIANA.
I--what d'ye mean?
SIR TRISTRAM.
I mean that I seem to have dropped the acquaintance of George Tidd,
Esquire, forever.
GEORGIANA.
Tris--no.
SIR TRISTRAM.
I have--but I've got an introduction to his twin-sister, Georgiana!
GEORGIANA.
[_Snatching her hand away angrily._] Stay where you are; I'll nurse my
half alone. [_She goes towards the window, then starts back._] Hush!
SIR TRISTRAM.
What's the matter?
GEORGIANA.
Didn't you hear something?
SIR TRISTRAM.
Where?
GEORGIANA.
[_Pointing to the window._] There.
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Peeping through the curtains._] You're right. Some people moving
about the garden.
GEORGIANA.
Tris! The horse!
SIR TRISTRAM.
They're not near the stables. They're coming in here. Hush! We'll
clear out and watch!
[_SIR TRISTRAM takes the candlestick and they go out leaving the room
in darkness. The curtains at the window are pushed aside, and SALOME
and SHEBA enter; both in their fancy dresses._
SALOME.
[_In a rage, lighting the candles on the mantelpiece._] Oh! oh! oh!
SHEBA.
Oh! oh! No ball after all!
SALOME.
If we only had a brother to avenge us!
SHEBA.
I shall try and borrow a brother to-morrow!
SALOME.
Cold, wretched, splashed, in debt--for nothing!
SHEBA.
To think that we've had all the inconvenience of being wicked and
rebellious and have only half done it!
SALOME.
This comes of stooping to the Military!
SHEBA.
It serves us right--we've been trained for clergymen's wives. I hate
Nugent Darbey. I hope he may grow bald early!
SALOME.
Gerald Tarver's nose is inclined to pink--may it deepen and deepen
till it frightens cows!
[_Voices are heard from the curtained window recess._
DARBEY.
[_Outside._] Miss Jedd--Sheba!
TARVER.
[_Outside._] Pray hear two wretched men! Miss Jedd!
SALOME.
[_In a whisper._] There they are.
SHEBA.
Shall we grant them a dignified interview?
SALOME.
Yes. Curl your lip, Sheba.
SHEBA.
You curl your lip better than I--I'll dilate my nostrils.
[_SALOME draws aside the curtain. TARVER and DARBEY enter. They are
both very badly and shabbily dressed as Cavaliers._
TARVER.
[_A most miserable object, carrying a carriage umbrella._] Oh, don't
reproach us, Miss Jedd. It isn't our fault that the Military were
summoned to St. Marvells.
DARBEY.
You don't blame officers and gentlemen for responding to the sacred
call of duty?
SHEBA.
We blame officers for subjecting two motherless girls to the shock of
alighting at the Durnstone Athenaeum to find a notice on the front
door: "Ball knocked on the head--Vivat Regina."
SALOME.
We blame gentlemen for inflicting upon us the unspeakable agony of
being jeered at by boys.
TARVER.
I took the address of the boy who suggested that we should call again
on the fifth of November. It is on the back of your admission card.
DARBEY.
Everything will be done. We shall both wait on the boy's mother for an
explanation.
TARVER.
Oh, smile on us once again, Miss Jedd--a forced, hollow smile, if you
will--only smile. Salome!
_GEORGIANA enters._
GEORGIANA.
Salome! Sheba!
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
Aunt!
GEORGIANA.
You bad girls!
SALOME.
[_Weeping._] No, Aunt, no!
SHEBA.
Not bad. Aunt--trustful and confiding.
GEORGIANA.
[_Advancing to TARVER._] How dare you encourage these two simple
children to enjoy themselves! How dare you take them out--without
their Aunt! Do you think _I_ can't keep a thing quiet?
SHEBA.
They didn't even ask Papa's permission!
SALOME.
Poor Papa!
SHEBA.
Poor, dear Papa!
GEORGIANA.
[_Shaking TARVER._] I'm speaking to you--Field-Marshal.
TARVER.
Madam, you are addressing an invalid.
DARBEY.
We shall be happy to receive your representative in the morning. At
present we are on duty.
TARVER.
On heavy duty.
DARBEY.
Guarding the ruins of the "Swan" Inn. You mustn't distract our
attention.
GEORGIANA.
Guarding the ruins of the "Swan," are you? [_Calling._] Tris! Sir
Tristram! [_SIR TRISTRAM appears._] Tris, I'm a feeble woman, but I
hope I've a keen sense of right and wrong. Run these outsiders into
the road, and let them guard their own ruins.
[_SALOME and SHEBA shriek, and throw themselves at the feet of TARVER
and DARBEY. clinging to their legs._
SALOME.
No, no. Spare him!
SHEBA.
You shall not harm a hair of their heads.
[_SIR TRISTRAM twists TARVER'S wig round so that it covers his face.
The gate bell is heard ringing violently._
GEORGIANA, SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
What's that?
SALOME.
It will wake Papa!
SHEBA.
Stop the bell!
[_GEORGIANA runs to the door and opens it._
SALOME.
[_To TARVER and DARBEY._] Fly!
[_TARVER and DARBEY disappear through the curtains at the window._
SHEBA.
[_Falling into SALOME'S arms._] We have saved them!
GEORGIANA.
Oh, Tris, your man from the stable!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Hatcham!
GEORGIANA.
[_Calling._] Hatcham!
[_HATCHAM, carrying the basin with the bolus, runs in
breathlessly--followed by BLORE._
HATCHAM.
Oh, Sir Tristram!
GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.
What is it?
HATCHAM.
The villain that set fire to the "Swan," sir--in the hact of
administering a dose to the 'orse!
GEORGIANA.
Nobbling our Dandy?
SIR TRISTRAM.
Where is the scoundrel?
HATCHAM.
Topping the constable's collared him, Sir--he's taken him in a cart to
the lock-up!
GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.
Oh!
BLORE.
[_In agony._] They've got the Dean!
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
THE THIRD ACT.
The first scene is the interior of a country Police Station, a quaint
old room with plaster walls, oaken beams, and a gothic mullioned
window looking on to the street. A massive door, with a small sliding
wicket and an iron grating, opens to a prisoner's cell. The room is
partly furnished as a kitchen, partly as a police station, a copy of
the Police Regulations and other official documents and implements
hanging on the wall. It is the morning after the events of the
previous act.
_HANNAH, a buxom, fresh-looking young woman, in a print gown, has been
engaged in cooking while singing gayly._
HANNAH.
[_Opening a door and calling with a slight dialect._] Noah darling!
NOAH.
[_From another room--in a rough, country voice._] Yaas!
HANNAH.
You'll have your dinner before you drive your prisoner over to
Durnstone, won't ye, darling?
NOAH.
Yaas!
HANNAH.
[_Closing the door._] Yaas! Noah's in a nice temper to-day over
summat. Ah well, I suppose all public characters is liable to
irritation. [_There is a knock at the outer door. HANNAH opening it,
sees BLORE with a troubled look on his face._] Well I never! Mr. Blore
from the Deanery! Come in! You might knock me down with a----!
BLORE.
[_Entering and shaking hands mournfully._] How do you do, Mrs.
Topping?
HANNAH.
And how is the dear Dean, bless him; the sweetest soul in the world?
BLORE.
[_To himself._] Good gracious! She doesn't know of hour misfortune.
[_To HANNAH._] I--I 'aven't seen him this morning!
HANNAH.
Well, this is real kind of you, calling on an old friend, Edward. When
I think that I were cook at the Deanery seven years, and that since I
left you, to get wedded, not a soul of you has been nigh me, it do
seem hard.
BLORE.
Well, you see, 'Annah, the kitchen took humbrage at your marryin' a
policeman at Durnstone. It was regarded as a messyliance.
HANNAH.
Well, now Mr. Topping's got the appointment of Head Constable at St.
Marvells, what's that regarded as?
BLORE.
A rise on the scales, 'Annah, a decided rise--but still you've honly
been a week in St. Marvells and you've got to fight your way hup.
HANNAH.
I think I'm as hup as ever I'm like to be.
BLORE.
'Owever, Jane and Sarah and Willis the stable boy 'ave hunbent so far
as to hask me to leave their cards, knowin' I was a callin'.
[_He produces from an old leather pocket-book three very dirty pieces
of paste-board, which he gives to HANNAH._
HANNAH.
[_Taking them in her apron with pride._] Thank 'em kindly. When's
their evening?
BLORE.
We receive on Toosdays, at the side gate. And 'ow are you, my dear?
[_Kissing her cheek._
HANNAH.
Don't, Edward Blore!
BLORE.
Don't! When you was Miss Hevans there wasn't these social barriers,
'Annah!
HANNAH.
Shut up! Noah's jealous of the very apron-strings what go round my
waist. I'm not so free and 'andy with my kisses now, I can tell you.
BLORE.
Then "what is friendship but a name!" But Mr. Topping isn't indoors
now, surely!
HANNAH.
[_Nodding her head._] Um--um!
BLORE.
Why, he took a man up last night!
HANNAH.
What of it?
BLORE.
Why, I thought that when hany harrest was made in St. Marvells, the
prisoner was lodged here honly for the night and that the 'ead
Constable 'ad to drive 'im over to Durnstone Police Station the first
thing in the morning.
HANNAH.
That's the rule, but Noah's behindhand to-day, and ain't going into
Durnstone till after dinner.
BLORE.
Then the prisoner is now hon the premises!
HANNAH.
Yes, he's in our cell.
BLORE.
Ah! And where is the hapartment in question?
HANNAH.
The cell? That's it!
BLORE.
[_Looking round in horror._] Oh!
HANNAH.
The "Strong-box" they call it in St. Marvells.
BLORE.
Oh, my goodness, honly fancy! [_Whimpering to himself._] And 'im
accustomed to his shavin' water at h'eight and my kindly hand to
button his gaiters. Oh, here's a warnin'!
HANNAH.
Whatever is the matter with you, Edward?
BLORE.
'Annah, 'Annah, my dear, it's this very prisoner what I 'ave called on
you respectin'.
HANNAH.
Oh, then the honor ain't a compliment to me, after all, Mr. Blore?
BLORE.
I'm killing two birds with one stone, my dear.
HANNAH.
[_Throwing the cards into BLORE'S hat._] You can take them back to the
Deanery with Mrs. Topping's comps.
BLORE.
[_Shaking the cards out of his hat and replacing them in his
pocket-book._] I will leave them hon you again to-morrow, 'Annah. But,
'Annah deary, do you know that this hunfortunate man was took in our
stables last night.
HANNAH.
No, I never ask Noah nothing about Queen's business. He don't want
_two_ women over him!
BLORE.
Then you 'aven't seen the miserable culprit?
HANNAH.
Lor' no. I was in bed hours when Noah brought 'im 'ome. I take no
interest in it all. They tell us it's only a wretched poacher or a
petty larcery we'll get in St. Marvells. My poor Noah ain't never
likely to have the chance of a horrid murder in a place what returns a
Conservative. My joint's burning.
[_Kneeling to look into the oven._
BLORE.
But, 'Annah, suppose this case you've got 'old of now is a case
what'll shake old England to its basis! Suppose it means columns in
the paper with Topping's name a-figurin'! Suppose as family readin',
it 'old its own with divorce cases!
HANNAH.
Hullo! You know something about this arrest, you do!
BLORE.
No, no, I don't! I merely said suppose. I merely wish to encourage
you, 'Annah; to implant an 'ope that crime may brighten your wedded
life.
HANNAH.
[_Sitting at the table and referring to an official book._] The man
was found trespassing in the Deanery Stables with intent--refuses to
give his name or any account of 'isself.
BLORE.
[_To himself._] If I could honly find hout whether Dandy Dick had any
of the medicine it would so guide me at the Races. What am I to do? It
doesn't appear that the 'orse in the stables--took it, does it?
HANNAH.
[_Looking up sharply._] Took what?
BLORE.
Er--took fright. You're sure there's no confession of any sort, 'Annah
dear?
[_As he is bending over HANNAH, NOAH TOPPING appears. NOAH is a
dense-looking ugly countryman, with red hair, a bristling heard, and a
vindictive leer. He is dressed in ill-fitting clothes, as a rural
Police Constable._
NOAH.
[_Fiercely._] 'Annah!
HANNAH.
[_Starting and replacing the book._] Oh don't! This is Mr. Blore from
the Deanery come to see us--an old friend o' mine!
[_BLORE advances to NOAH with a nervous smile, extending his hand._
NOAH.
[_Taking BLORE'S hand and holding it firmly._] A friend of hern is a
friend o' mian!
BLORE.
I 'ope so, Mr. Topping. I thank you.
NOAH.
She's gettin' me a lot o' nice noo friends this week, since we coom to
St. Marvells.
BLORE.
Of course, dear 'Annah was a lovin' favorite with heverybody.
NOAH.
Ay. Well then, as her friends be mian, I'm takin' the liberty, one by
one, of gradually droppin' on 'em all.
BLORE.
[_Getting his hand away._] Dear me!
NOAH.
And if I catch any old fly a buzzin' round my lady I'll venture to
break his 'ead in wi' my staff!
HANNAH.
Oh, Noah!
BLORE.
[_Preparing to depart._] I--I merely called to know if hanything had
been found hout about the ruffian took in our stables last night!
NOAH.
Is that your business?
BLORE.
It--it's my master's business.
NOAH.
He's the De-an, ain't he?
HANNAH.
Yes, Noah, of course.
NOAH.
[_Fiercely._] Shut oop, darlin'. Very well, then--give Mr. Topping's
respects to the Dean, and say I'll run up to the Deanery and see him
after I've took my man over to Durnstone.
BLORE.
Thank you--I 'ope the Dean will be at 'ome. Good-day, 'Annah!
Good-day, Mr. Topping!
[_Offering his hand, into which NOAH significantly places his
truncheon. BLORE goes out quickly._
HANNAH.
[_Whimpering._] Oh, Noah, Noah, I don't believe as we shall ever get a
large circle of friends round us!
NOAH.
Now then! [_Selecting a pair of handcuffs and examining them
critically._] Them'll do. [_Slipping them into his pocket, and turning
upon HANNAH suddenly._] 'Annah!
HANNAH.
Yes, Noahry----
NOAH.
Brighten oop, my darlin', the little time you 'ave me at 'ome with
you.
HANNAH.
Yes, Noahry.
[_She bustles about and begins to lay the cloth._
NOAH.
I'm just a' goin' round to the stable to put old Nick in the cart.
HANNAH.
Oh, dont'ee trust to Nick, Noah dear--he's such a vicious brute.
Kitty's safer in the cart.
NOAH.
Shut oop, darlin'. Nick can take me on to the edge o' the hill in half
the time.
HANNAH.
The hill!
NOAH.
Ah, what d'ye think I've put off taking my man to Durnstone to now
for? Why, I'm a goin' to get a glimpse of the racin', on my way over.
[_Opening the wicket in the cell door and looking in._] There he is!
Sulky! [_To HANNAH._] Hopen the hoven door, 'Annah, and let the smell
of the cookin' get into him.
HANNAH.
Oh, no, Noah--it's torture!
NOAH.
Do as I tell'ee. [_She opens the oven door._] Torture! Of course it's
torture! That's my rule! Whenever I get a 'old of a darned obstinate
creature wot won't reveal his hindentity I hopens the hoven door.
[_He goes out into the street, and as he departs, the woful face of
THE DEAN appears at the wicket, his head being still enveloped in the
fur cap._
HANNAH.
[_Shutting the oven door._] Not me! Torturing prisoners might a' done
for them Middling Ages what Noah's always clattering about, but not
for my time o' life. I'll shut that wicket. [_Crossing close to the
wicket, her face almost comes against THE DEAN'S. She gives a cry._]
The Dean!
THE DEAN.
Oh!
[_He disappears._
HANNAH.
Oh, no! Not my old master! Never the master! [_Tottering to the wicket
and looking in._] Master! Look at me! It's 'Annah, your poor faithful
servant, 'Annah!
[_The face of THE DEAN re-appears._
THE DEAN.
[_In a deep sad voice._] Hannah Evans.
HANNAH.
It's 'Annah Topping, Knee Evans, wife o' the Constable what's goin' to
take you to cruel Durnstone. [_Sinking weeping upon the ground at the
door._] Oh, Mr. Dean, sir, what have you been up to? What have you
been up to? What have you been up to?
THE DEAN.
Woman, I am the victim of a misfortune only partially merited.
HANNAH.
[_On her knees, clasping her hands._] Tell me what you've done, Master
dear; give it a name, for the love of goodness
THE DEAN.
My poor Hannah, I fear I have placed myself in an equivocal position.
HANNAH.
[_With a shriek of despair._] Ah!
THE DEAN.
Be quiet, woman!
HANNAH.
Is it a change o' cooking that's brought you to such ways? I cooked
for you for seven 'appy years!
THE DEAN.
[_Sniffing._] Alas! you seem to have lost none of your culinary skill.
HANNAH.
Master, are you hungry?
THE DEAN.
I am sorely tried by your domestic preparations.
HANNAH.
[_With clenched hands and a determined look._] Oh! [_Quickly locking
and bolting the street door._] Noah can't put that brute of a horse to
under ten minutes. The dupplikit key o' the Strong Box! [_Producing a
large key, with which she unlocks the cell door._] Master, you'll give
me your patrol not to cut, won't you?
THE DEAN.
Under any other circumstances, Hannah, I should resent that
insinuation.
HANNAH.
Don't resent nothing! Shove! Shove your hardest, Dean dear!
[_Pulling the door which opens sufficiently to let out THE DEAN._
THE DEAN.
[_As he enters the room._] Good day, Hannah; you have bettered
yourself, I hope?
HANNAH.
[_Hysterically flinging herself upon THE DEAN._] Oh, Master, Master!
THE DEAN.
[_Putting her from him sternly._] Hannah! Mrs. Topping!
HANNAH.
Oh, I know, I know, but crime levels all, dear sir!
THE DEAN.
You appear to misapprehend the precise degree of criminality which
attaches to me, Mrs. Topping. In the eyes of that majestic, but
imperfect instrument, the law, I am an innocent if not an injured man.
HANNAH.
Ah, stick to that, sir! Stick to it, if you think it's likely to serve
your wicked ends!
[_Placing bread with other things on the table._
THE DEAN.
My good woman, a single word from me to those at the Deanery, would
instantly restore me to home, family, and accustomed diet.
HANNAH.
Ah, they all tell that tale what comes here. Why don't you send word,
Dean dear?
THE DEAN.
Because it would involve revelations of my temporary moral aberration!
HANNAH.
[_Putting her apron to her eyes with a howl._] Owh!
THE DEAN.
Because I should return to the Deanery with my dignity--that priceless
possession of man's middle age!--with my dignity seriously impaired!
HANNAH.
Oh, don't, sir, don't!
THE DEAN.
How could I face my simple children who have hitherto, not
unreasonably, regarded me as faultless? How could I again walk erect
in the streets of St. Marvells with my name blazoned on the Records of
a Police Station of the very humblest description?
[_Sinking into a chair and snatching up a piece of breads which he
begins munching._
HANNAH.
[_Wiping her eyes._] Oh, sir, it's a treat to hear you, compared with
the hordinary criminal class. But, master, dear, though my Noah don't
recognize you--through his being a stranger to St. Marvells--how'll
you fare when you get to Durnstone?
THE DEAN.
I have one great buoyant hope--that a word in the ear of the Durnstone
Superintendent will send me forth an unquestioned man. You and he will
be the sole keepers of my precious secret. May its possession be a
lasting comfort to you both.
HANNAH.
Master, is what you've told me your only chance of getting off
unknown?
THE DEAN.
It is the sole remaining chance of averting a calamity of almost
national importance.
HANNAH.
Then you're as done as that joint in my oven!
THE DEAN.
Woman!
HANNAH.
The Superintendent at Durnstone--John Ruggles--also the two
Inspectors, Whitaker and Parker----
THE DEAN.
Well!
HANNAH.
Them and their wives and families are chapel folk!
THE DEAN.
[_Aghast._] No!
HANNAH.
Yes. [_THE DEAN totters across to a chair, into which he sinks with
his head upon the table._] Master! Listen!
THE DEAN.
It's all over! It's all over!
HANNAH.
No, no--Listen! I was well fed and kept seven years at the
Deanery--I've been wed to Noah Topping eight weeks--that's six years
and ten months' lovin' duty doo to you and yours before I owe nothing
to my darling Noah. Master dear, you shan't be took to Durnstone!
THE DEAN.
Silence! Hannah Topping, formerly Evans, it is my duty to inform you
that your reasoning does more credit to your heart than to your head.
HANNAH.
I can't help that. The Devil's always in a woman's heart because it's
the warmest place to get to! [_Taking a small key from the table
drawer._] Here, take that! [_Pushing the key into the pocket of his
coat._] When you once get free from my darling Noah that key unlocks
your handcuffs!
THE DEAN.
Handcuffs!
HANNAH.
How are you to get free, that's the question now, isn't it? I'll tell
you. My Noah drives you over to Durnstone with old Nick in the cart.
THE DEAN.
Old Nick!
HANNAH.
That's the horse. Now Nick was formerly in the Durnstone Fire Brigade,
and when he 'ears the familiar signal of a double whistle you can't
hold him in. There's the whistle. [_Putting it into THE DEAN'S
pocket._] Directly you turn into Pear Tree Lane, blow once and you'll
see Noah with his nose in the air, pullin' fit to wrench his 'ands
off. Jump out--roll clear of the wheel--keep cool and 'opeful and blow
again. Before you can get the mud out of your eyes Noah and the horse
and cart will be well into Durnstone, and may Providence restore a
young 'usband safe to his doatin' wife!
THE DEAN.
Hannah! How dare you! [_Recoiling horror-stricken._
HANNAH.
[_Crying._] Oh--ooh--ooh!
THE DEAN.
Is this the fruit of your seven years' constant cookery at the
Deanery?
HANNAH.
Oh dear! I wouldn't have done it, only this is your first offence!
THE DEAN.
My first offence, oh!
HANNAH.
You're not too old; I want to give you another start in life!
THE DEAN.
Another start! Woman, do you think I've no conscience? Do you think I
don't realize the enormity of the--of the difficulties in alighting
from a vehicle in rapid motion?
HANNAH.
[_Opening the oven and taking out a small joint in a baking tin, which
she places on the table._] It's 'unger what makes you feel
conscientious!
THE DEAN.
[_Waving her away._] I have done with you!
HANNAH.
With me, sir--but not with the joint! You'll feel wickeder when you've
had a little nourishment. [_He looks hungrily at the dish._] That's
right, Dean, dear--taste my darling Noah's favorite dish.
THE DEAN.
[_Advancing towards the table._] Oh, Hannah Topping--Hannah Topping!
[_Clutching the carving-knife despairingly._] I'll have no more women
cooks at the Deanery! This reads me a lesson.
[_Sitting and carving with desperation._
HANNAH.
Don't stint yourself, sir. You can't blow that whistle on an empty
frame. [_THE DEAN begins to eat._] Don't my cooking carry you back,
sir? Oh, say it do!
THE DEAN.
Ah, if every mouthful would carry me back one little hour I would
finish this joint!
[_NOAH TOPPING, unperceived by HANNAH and THE DEAN, climbs in by the
window, his eyes bolting with rage--he glares round the room, taking
in everything at a glance._
NOAH.
[_Under his breath._] My man o' mystery--a waited on by my nooly made
wife--a heating o' my favorite meal.
[_Touching HANNAH on the arm, she turns and faces him, speechless with
fright._
THE DEAN.
[_Still eating._] If my mind were calmer this would be an
all-sufficient repast. [_HANNAH tries to speak, then clasps her hands
and sinks on her knees to NOAH._] Hannah, a little plain cold water in
a simple tumbler, please.
NOAH.
[_Grimly--folding his arms._] 'Annah, hintrodooce me. [_HANNAH gives a
cry and clings to NOAH'S legs._
THE DEAN.
[_Calmly to NOAH._] Am I to gather, constable, from your respective
attitudes that you object to these little kindnesses extended to me by
your worthy wife?
NOAH.
I'm wishin' to know the name o' my worthy wife's friend. A friend o'
hern is a friend o' mian.
HANNAH.
Noahry! Noahry!
NOAH.
She's gettin' me a lot o' nice noo friends since we coom to St.
Marvells.
HANNAH.
Noahry! I made this gentleman's acquaintance through the wicket, in a
casual way.
NOAH.
Ay. Cooks and railins--cooks and railins! I might a guessed my wedded
life 'ud a coom to this.
HANNAH.
He spoke to me just as a strange gentleman ought to speak to a lady!
Didn't you, sir--didn't you?
THE DEAN.
Hannah, do not let us even under these circumstances prevaricate; such
is not quite the case!
[_NOAH advances savagely to THE DEAN. There is a knocking at the
door.--NOAH restrains himself and faces THE DEAN._
NOAH.
Noa, this is neither the toime nor pla-ace, wi' people at the door and
dinner on t' table, to spill a strange man's blood.
THE DEAN.
I trust that your self-respect as an officer of the law will avert
anything so unseemly.
NOAH.
Ay. That's it! You've touched me on my point o' pride. There ain't
another police-station in all Durnstone conducted more strict and
rigid nor what mian is, and it shall so continue. You and me is a
goin' to set out for Durnstone, and when the charges now standin' agen
you is entered, it's I, Noah Topping, what'll hadd another!
[_There is another knock at the door._
HANNAH.
Noah!
NOAH.
The charge of allynating the affections o' my wife, 'Annah!
THE DEAN.
[_Horrified._] No, no!
NOAH.
Ay, and worse--the embezzlin' o' my mid-day meal prepared by her
'ands. [_Points into the cell._] Go in; you 'ave five minutes more in
the 'ome you 'ave ruined and laid waste.
THE DEAN.
[_Going to the door and turning to NOAH._] You will at least receive
my earnest assurance that this worthy woman is extremely innocent?
NOAH.
Hinnocent? [_Points to the joint on the table._] Look theer! [_THE
DEAN, much overcome, disappears through the cell door, which NOAH
closes and locks. The knock at the door is repeated. To HANNAH,
pointing to the outer door._] Hunlock that door!
HANNAH.
[_Weeping._] Oh, Noahry, you'll never be popular in St. Marvells.
NOAH.
Hunlock that door!
[_HANNAH unlocks the door, and admits GEORGIANA and SIR TRISTRAM, both
dressed for the race-course._
GEORGIANA.
Dear me! Is this the Police-Station?
HANNAH.
Yes, lady. Take a chair, lady, near the fire. [_To SIR TRISTRAM._] Sit
down, sir.
GEORGIANA.
This is my first visit to a police-station, my good woman; I hope it
will be the last.
HANNAH.
Oh, don't say that, ma'am. We're honly hauxilliary 'ere, ma'am--the
Bench sets at Durnstone.
GEORGIANA.
I must say you try to make everybody feel at home.
[_HANNAH curtseys._
SIR TRISTRAM.
It's beautifully Arcadian.
GEORGIANA.
[_To HANNAH._] Perhaps this is only a police-station for the young?
HANNAH.
No, ma'am, we take ladies and gentlemen like yourselves.
NOAH.
[_Who has not been noticed, surveying GEORGIANA and SIR TRISTRAM,
gloomily._] 'Annah, hintrodooce me.
GEORGIANA.
[_Facing NOAH._] Good gracious! What's that! Oh, good-morning.
NOAH.
'Annah's a gettin' me a lot o' nice noo friends this week since we
coom to St. Marvells.
HANNAH.
Noah, Noah--the lady and gentlemen is strange.
NOAH.
Ho!
GEORGIANA.
Are you the man in charge here?
NOAH.
Ay; are you seeing me on business or pleasure?
SIR TRISTRAM.
Do you imagine people come here to see you?
NOAH.
Noa--they generally coom to see my wife. 'Owever, if it's business
[_pointing to the other side of the room_] that's the hofficial
side--this is domestic. You'll hall kindly move over.
SIR TRISTRAM _and_ GEORGIANA.
Oh, certainly.
[_Changing their seats._
SIR TRISTRAM.
Now, look here, my man. This lady is Mrs. Tidman. Mrs. Tidman is the
sister of Dr. Jedd, the Dean of St. Marvells.
HANNAH.
[_With a gasp._] Oh!
GEORGIANA.
There's something wrong with your wife.
NOAH.
Ay. She's profligate--proceedins are pendin'!
GEORGIANA.
[_To SIR TRISTRAM._] Strange police station! My flesh creeps.
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_To NOAH._] Well, my good man, to come to the point. My poor friend
and this lady's brother, Dr. Jedd, the Dean, you know--has
mysteriously and unaccountably disappeared.
GEORGIANA.
Vanished.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Gone.
NOAH.
Absconded.
GEORGIANA.
Absconded! How dare you.
NOAH.
Respectable man, was 'e?
GEORGIANA.
What do you mean?
SIR TRISTRAM.
This lady is his sister!
NOAH.
Now, look 'ere--it's no good a gettin' 'asty and irritable with the
law. I'll coom over to yer, officially.
[_Putting the baking tin under his arm he crosses over to SIR TRISTRAM
and GEORGIANA._
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Putting his handkerchief to his face._] Don't bring that horrible
odor of cooking over here.
GEORGIANA.
Take it away! What is it?
NOAH.
It's evidence against my profligate wife.
[_SIR TRISTRAM and GEORGIANA exchange looks of impatience._
GEORGIANA.
Do you realize that my poor brother the Dean is missing?
NOAH.
Ay. Touching this missin' De-an.
GEORGIANA.
I left him last night to retire to rest.
SIR TRISTRAM.
This morning he is not to be found!
NOAH.
Ay. 'As it struck you to look in 'is bed?
GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.
Of course!
GEORGIANA.
Everybody did that!
NOAH.
One 'ud a done. It's only confusin'--hall doin' it! Money matters
right or wrong?
[_GEORGIANA puts her handkerchief to her eyes._
SIR TRISTRAM.
Do put your questions more feelingly! This is his sister--I am his
friend!
NOAH.
You will push yourselves forrard. Had he anything on his mind?
GEORGIANA.
Yes!
NOAH.
Then I've got a the'ry.
GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.
What is it?
NOAH.
A the'ry that will put you all out o' suspense!
GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.
Yes, yes!
NOAH.
I've been a good bit about, I read a deal, and I'm a shrewd
experienced man. I should say this is nothin' but a hordinary case of
sooicide.
[_GEORGIANA sits faintly._
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Savagely to NOAH._] Get out of the way! Georgiana?
GEORGIANA.
Oh, Tris, if this were true how could we break it to the girls?
NOAH.
I could run oop, durin' the evenin', and break it to the girls.
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Turns upon NOAH._] Look here, all you've got to do is to hold your
tongue and take down my description of the Dean, and report his
disappearance at Durnstone. [_Pushing him into a chair._] Go on!
[_Dictating._] "Missing. The Very Reverend Augustin Jedd, Dean of St.
Marvells." Poor Gus! Poor Gus!
HANNAH.
[_Softly to GEORGIANA._] Lady, lady.
[_NOAH prepares to write, depositing the baking-tin on the table._
GEORGIANA.
[_Turning._] Eh?
HANNAH.
Hush! Listen to me!
[_Speaks to GEORGIANA excitedly._
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_To NOAH._] Have you got that?
NOAH.
[_Writing laboriously with his legs curled round the chair and his
head on the table._] Ay. I'm spelling it my own way.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Poor dear old Gus! [_Dictating._] "Description!"
NOAH.
Oh noa!
SIR TRISTRAM.
"Description!"
NOAH.
I suppose he was jest the hordinary sort o' lookin' man.
SIR TRISTRAM.
No, no! "Description!"
GEORGIANA.
[_Turning from HANNAH, excitedly._] Description--a little, short, thin
man, with black hair and a squint!
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_To GEORGIANA._] No, no, he isn't.
GEORGIANA.
Yes, he is!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Georgiana! What are you talking about?
GEORGIANA.
I'm Gus's sister--I ought to know what he's like!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Good heavens, Georgiana--your mind is not going?
GEORGIANA.
[_Clutching SIR TRISTRAM'S arm and whispering in his ear, as she
points to the cell door._] He's in there!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Eh!
GEORGIANA.
Gus is the villain found dosing Dandy Dick last night!
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Falling back._] Oh! [_HANNAH seizes SIR TRISTRAM and talks to him
rapidly._] [_To NOAH._] What have you written?
NOAH.
I've written "Hanswers to the name o' Gus!"
GEORGIANA.
[_Snatching the paper from him._] It's not wanted. I've altered my
mind. I'm too busy to bother about him this week.
NOAH.
What! Hafter wasting my time?
GEORGIANA.
Look here--you're the constable who took the man in the Deanery
Stables last night?
NOAH.
Ay. [_Looking out of the window._] There's my cart outside ready to
take the scoundrel over to Durnstone.
GEORGIANA.
I should like to see him.
NOAH.
You can view him passin' out.
[_He tucks the baking-tin under his arm and goes up to the cell door._
GEORGIANA.
[_To herself._] Oh, Gus, Gus!
NOAH.
[_Unlocking the door._] I warn yer. 'E's a awful looking creature.
GEORGIANA.
I can stand it; I love horrors!
[_NOAH goes into the cell, closing the door after him._
Tris!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Georgiana!
GEORGIANA.
What was my brother's motive in bolusing Dandy last night?
SIR TRISTRAM.
I can't think. The first thing to do is to get him out of this hole.
This good woman has arranged for his escape.
GEORGIANA.
But we can't trust to Gus rolling out of a flying dogcart! Why, it's
as much as I could do!
HANNAH.
Oh, yes, lady, he'll do it. I've prewided for everything. Don't betray
him to Noah! There's another--a awfuller charge hangin' over his
reverend 'ead.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Another charge!
GEORGIANA.
Another! Oh Tris! To think my own stock should run vicious like this.
HANNAH.
Hush, lady!
[_NOAH comes out of the cell with THE DEAN, who is in handcuffs._
GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.
Oh!
THE DEAN.
[_Raising his eyes, sees SIR TRISTRAM and GEORGIANA, and recoils with
a groan, sinking on to a chair._] Oh!
NOAH.
Oop you get!
SIR TRISTRAM.
No, no, stay! I am the owner of the horse stabled at the Deanery. I
make no charge against this wretched person. [_To THE DEAN._] Oh man,
man!
THE DEAN.
I was discovered administering to a suffering beast a simple remedy
for chills. I am an unfortunate creature. Do with me what you will.
GEORGIANA.
The analysis hasn't come home from the chemist's yet. Is this the
truth?
THE DEAN.
Yes.
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_To NOAH._] Release this man.
NOAH.
Release him! He was found trespassin' in the stables of the la-ate
De-an, who has committed sooicide.
THE DEAN.
Oh! I----
SIR TRISTRAM, GEORGIANA _and_ HANNAH.
Hush!
NOAH.
The Diseased De-an is the honly man wot can withdraw one charge----
THE DEAN.
I--listen!
SIR TRISTRAM, GEORGIANA _and_ HANNAH.
Hush!
NOAH.
And I'm the honly man wot can withdraw the other.
SIR TRISTRAM.
You? Get out!
GEORGIANA.
Get out!
NOAH.
I charge this person unknown with allynating the affections o' my wife
while I was puttin' my 'orse to. And I'm goin' to drive him over to
Durnstone with the hevidence.
HANNAH.
Oh lady, lady, it's appearances what is against us.
NOAH.
[_Through the opening of the door._] Woa! Steady there! Get back!
GEORGIANA.
[_Whispering to THE DEAN._] I am disappointed in you, Angustin. Have
you got this wretched woman's whistle?
THE DEAN.
Yes.
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Softly to THE DEAN._] Oh Jedd, Jedd--and these are what you call
Principles! Have you got the key of your handcuffs?
THE DEAN.
Yes.
NOAH.
[_Appearing in the doorway._] Time's oop. Coom on!
THE DEAN.
May I say a few parting words in the home I have apparently wrecked?
NOAH.
Say' em and 'a done.
THE DEAN.
In setting out upon a journey, the termination of which is
problematical, I desire to attest that this erring constable is the
husband of a wife from whom it is impossible to withhold respect, if
not admiration.
NOAH.
You 'ear' im!
THE DEAN.
As for my wretched self, the confession of my weaknesses must be
reserved for another time--another place. [_To GEORGIANA._] To you,
whose privilege it is to shelter in the sanctity of the Deanery, I
give this earnest admonition. Within an hour from this terrible
moment, let the fire be lighted in the drawing-room--let the missing
man's warm bath be waiting for its master--a change of linen prepared.
Withhold your judgments. Wait.
NOAH.
This is none of your business. Coom on.
THE DEAN.
I am ready!
[_NOAH takes him by the arm and leads him out._
GEORGIANA.
Oh, what am I to think of my brother?
HANNAH.
[_Kneeling at GEORGIANA'S feet._] Think! That he's the beautifullest,
sweetest man in all Durnshire!
GEORGIANA.
Woman!
HANNAH.
It's I and my whistle and Nick the fire-brigade horse what'll bring
him back to the Deanery safe and unharmed. Not a soul but we three'll
ever know of his misfortune. [_Listening._] Hark! They're off!
NOAH.
[_Outside._] Get up, now! Get-oop, old girl!
HANNAH.
[_With a cry._] Ah! [_Rushing to the door and looking out._] He's done
for!
GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.
Done for!
HANNAH.
The Dean can whistle himself blue! Noah's put Kitty in the cart, and
left Old Nick at home!
THE END OF THE FIRST SCENE.
_The second scene is the Morning Room at the Deanery again._
_SALOME and SHEBA are sitting there gloomily._
SALOME.
Poor Papa!
SHEBA.
Poor dear Papa!
SALOME.
He must return very soon--he must!
SHEBA.
He must! In the meantime it is such a comfort to feel that we have no
cause for self-reproach.
SALOME.
But the anxiety is terribly wearing.
SHEBA.
Nothing is so weakening, Salome.
SALOME.
Sheba, dear.
SHEBA.
[_Clinging to SALOME._] If I should pine and ultimately die of this
suspense I want you to have my workbox.
SALOME.
[_Shaking her head and sadly turning away._] Thank you, dear, but if
Papa is not home for afternoon tea you will outlive me.
[_Turning towards the window as MAJOR TARVER and MR. DARBEY appear
outside._
DARBEY.
[_Outside._] Miss Jedd! Miss Jedd!
SALOME.
Sheba! Here are Gerald Tarver and Mr. Darbey!
SHEBA.
Oh, the presumption! Open the window and dare them to enter!
[_SALOME unfastens the window._
DARBEY.
[_Outside._] Thank you. Don't be shocked when you see Tarver.
_TARVER and DARBEY enter, dressed for the Races, but DARBEY is
supporting TARVER, who looks extremely weakly._
TARVER.
Pardon this informal method of presenting ourselves.
SALOME.
You do well, gentlemen, to intrude upon two feeble women at a moment
of sorrow.
SHEBA.
One step further, and I shall ask Major Tarver, who is nearest the
bell, to ring for help.
[_TARVER sinks into a chair._
DARBEY.
[_Standing by the side of TARVER._] There now. The fact is. Miss Jedd,
that Tarver is in an exceedingly critical condition. Feeling that he
has incurred your displeasure he has failed even in the struggle to
gain the race-course. I have taken him to Dr. Middleton and I
explained that Major Tarver loved with a passion [_looking at SHEBA_]
second only to my own.
SALOME.
[_Sitting comfortably on the settee._] Oh, we cannot listen to you,
Mr. Darbey.
SHEBA.
Go on, sir, if you can.
[_The two girls exchange looks._
DARBEY.
The Doctor made a searching examination of the Major's tongue and
diagnosed that, unless the Major at once proposed to the lady in
question and was accepted, three weeks or a month at the seaside would
be absolutely imperative. Shall I continue?
SALOME.
Oh, certainly. I am helpless.
SHEBA.
We are curious to see to what lengths you will go.
DARBEY.
The pitiable condition of my poor friend speaks for itself.
SALOME.
I beg your pardon--it does nothing of the kind.
TARVER.
[_Rising with difficulty and approaching SALOME._] Salome--I have
loved you distractedly for upwards of eight weeks.
SALOME.
[_Going to him._] Oh, Major Tarver, let me pass; [_holding his coat
firmly_] let me pass, I say.
TARVER.
Unless you push me, never!
SHEBA.
Spare me this scene, Mr. Darbey.
[_DARBEY follows SHEBA across the room._
TARVER.
To a man in my condition love is either a rapid and fatal malady, or
it is an admirable digestive. Accept me, and my merry laugh once more
rings through the Mess Room. Reject me, and my collection of vocal
music, loose and in volumes, will be brought to the hammer, and the
bird, as it were, will trill no more.
SALOME.
And is it really I who would hush the little throaty songster?
TARVER.
Certainly. [_Taking a sheet of paper from his pocket._] I have the
Doctor's certificate to that effect.
[_Both reading the certificate they walk into Library._
SHEBA.
Oh, Mr. Darbey, I have never thought of marriage seriously.
DARBEY.
People never do till they _are_ married.
SHEBA.
But think, only think of my age.
DARBEY.
Pardon me, Sheba--but what is your age?
SHEBA.
Oh, it is so very little--it is not worth mentioning. Cannot we remain
friends and occasionally correspond?
DARBEY.
Well, of course--if you insist----
SHEBA.
No, no, I see that is impracticable. It must be wed or part. All I ask
is time--time to ponder over such a question, time to know myself
better.
DARBEY.
Certainly, how long?
SHEBA.
Give me two or three minutes. Hush!
[_They separate as TARVER and SALOME re-enter the room. TARVER is
glaring excitedly and biting his nails._
TARVER.
I never thought I should live to be accepted by anyone. I shall buy
some gay songs. Er--when can I see the Dean?
SALOME.
Oh, don't!
TARVER.
Salome!
SALOME.
Papa has been out all night.
DARBEY _and_ TARVER.
All night?
SALOME.
Isn't it terrible! Oh, what do you think of it, Mr. Darbey?
DARBEY.
Shocking, but we oughtn't to condemn him unheard.
SALOME.
Condemn my Papa!
SHEBA.
[_At the window._] Here's Aunt Georgiana!
DARBEY.
Eh! Look out, Tarver.
[_Going out quickly._
SALOME.
[_Pulling TARVER after her._] Come this way and let us take cuttings
in the conservatory.
[_They go out._
SHEBA.
Mr. Darbey! Mr. Darbey, wait for me--I have decided. _Yes._
[_She goes out by the door as GEORGIANA enters excitedly at the
window._
GEORGIANA.
[_Waving her handkerchief._] Come on, Tris! The course is clear! Mind
the gate-post! Hold him up! Now give him his head!
_SIR TRISTRAM and HATCHAM enter by the window carrying THE DEAN. They
all look as though they have been recently engaged in a prolonged
struggle._
SIR TRISTRAM.
Put him down!
GEORGIANA.
Put him down!
HATCHAM.
That I will, ma'am, and gladly.
[_They deposit THE DEAN in a chair and GEORGIANA and SIR TRISTRAM each
seize a hand, feeling THE DEAN'S pulse, while HATCHAM puts his hand on
THE DEAN'S heart._
THE DEAN.
[_Opening his eyes._] Where am I now?
GEORGIANA.
He lives! Hurrah! Cheer man, cheer!
SIR TRISTRAM _and_ HATCHAM
[_Quietly._] Hurrah! [_To HATCHAM._] We can't shout here; go and cheer
as loudly as you can in the roadway by yourself.
HATCHAM.
Yes, Sir.
[_HATCHAM runs out at the window._
THE DEAN.
[_Gradually recovering._] Georgiana--Mardon.
SIR TRISTRAM.
How are you, Jedd, old boy?
GEORGIANA.
How do you feel now, Gus?
THE DEAN.
Torn to fragments.
SIR TRISTRAM.
So you are. Thank heaven, he's conscious.
THE DEAN.
I feel as if I had been walked over carefully by a large concourse of
the lower orders!
GEORGIANA.
So you have been. Thank heaven, his memory is all right.
[_HATCHAM'S voice is heard in the distance cheering. They all listen._
SIR TRISTRAM.
That's Hatcham; I'll raise his wages.
THE DEAN.
Do I understand that I have been forcibly and illegally rescued?
SIR TRISTRAM.
That's it, old fellow.
THE DEAN.
Who has committed such a reprehensible act?
SIR TRISTRAM.
A woman who would have been a heroine in any age--Georgiana!
THE DEAN.
Georgiana, I am bound to overlook it, in a relative, but never let
this occur again.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Tell him.
GEORGIANA.
You found out that that other woman's plan went lame, didn't you?
THE DEAN.
I discovered its inefficacy, after a prolonged period of ineffectual
whistling.
GEORGIANA.
But we ascertained the road the genial constable was going to follow.
He was bound for the edge of the hill, up Pear Tree Lane, to watch the
Races. Directly we knew this, Tris and I made for the Hill. Bless your
soul, there were hundreds of my old friends there--welshers,
pick-pockets, card-sharpers, all the lowest race-course cads in the
kingdom. In a minute I was in the middle of 'em, as much at home as a
Duchess in a Drawing-room.
SIR TRISTRAM.
A Queen in a Palace!
GEORGIANA.
Boadicea among the Druids! "Do you know me?" I holloaed out. Instantly
there was a cry of "Blessed if it ain't George Tidd!" Tears of real
joy sprang to my eyes--while I was wiping them away Tris had his
pockets emptied and I lost my watch.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Ah, Jedd, it was a glorious moment!
GEORGIANA.
Tris made a back, and I stood on it, supported by a correct-card
merchant on either side. "Dear friends," I said; "Brothers! I'm with
you once again." You should have heard the shouts of honest welcome.
Before I could obtain silence my field glasses had gone on their long
journey. "Listen to me," I said. "A very dear relative of mine has
been collared for playing the three-card trick on his way down from
town." There was a groan of sympathy. "He'll be on the brow of the
Hill with a bobby in half-an-hour," said I, "who's for the rescue?" A
dead deep silence followed, broken only by the sweet voice of a young
child, saying, "What'll we get for it?" "A pound a-piece," said I.
There was a roar of assent, and my concluding words, "and possibly six
months," were never heard. At that moment Tris' back could stand it no
longer, and we came heavily to the ground together. [_Seizing THE DEAN
by the hand and dragging him up._] Now you know whose hands have led
you back to your own manger. [_Embracing him._] And oh, brother,
confess--isn't there something good and noble in true English sport
after all?
THE DEAN.
Every abused institution has its redeeming characteristic. But whence
is the money to come to reward these dreadful persons? I cannot
reasonably ask my girls to organize a bazaar or concert.
GEORGIANA.
Concert! I'm a rich woman.
THE DEAN.
Rich!
GEORGIANA.
Well, I've cleared fifteen hundred over the Handicap.
THE DEAN.
[_Recoiling._] No! Then the horse who enjoyed the shelter of the
Deanery last night----
SIR TRISTRAM.
Dandy Dick!
THE DEAN.
Won!
GEORGIANA.
In a common canter! All the rest nowhere, and Bonny Betsy walked in
with the policeman.
THE DEAN.
[_To himself._] Five hundred pounds towards the Spire! Five hundred!
Oh, where is Blore with the good news!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Look at him! Lively as a cricket!
THE DEAN.
Sir Tristram, I am under the impression that your horse swallowed
reluctantly a small portion of that bolus last night before I was
surprised and removed.
SIR TRISTRAM.
By the bye, I am expecting the analysis of that concoction every
minute.
THE DEAN.
Spare yourself the trouble--the secret is with me. I seek no
acknowledgment from either of you, but in your moment of deplorable
triumph remember with gratitude the little volume of "The Horse and
its Ailments" and the prosaic name of its humane author--John Cox.
[_He goes out through the Library._
GEORGIANA.
But oh, Tris Mardon, what can I ever say to you?
SIR TRISTRAM.
Anything you like except "Thank you!"
GEORGIANA.
Don't stop me? Why, you were the man who hauled Augustin out of the
cart by his legs!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Oh, but why mention such trifles?
GEORGIANA.
They're not trifles. And when his cap fell off, it was you--brave
fellow that you are--who pulled the horse's nose-bag over my brother's
head so that he shouldn't be recognized.
SIR TRISTRAM.
My dear Georgiana, these are the common courtesies of every-day life.
GEORGIANA.
They are acts which any true woman would esteem. Gus won't readily
forget the critical moment when all the cut chaff ran down the back of
his neck--nor shall I.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Nor shall I forget the way in which you gave Dandy his whisky out of a
soda water bottle just before the race.
GEORGIANA.
That's nothing--any lady would do the same.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Nothing! You looked like the Florence Nightingale of the paddock! Oh,
Georgiana, why, why, why won't you marry me?
GEORGIANA.
Why!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Why?
GEORGIANA.
Why! Because you've only just asked me, Tris!
[_Goes to him cordially._
SIR TRISTRAM.
But when I touched your hand last night, you reared!
GEORGIANA.
Yes, Tris, old man, but love is founded on mutual esteem; last night
you hadn't put my brother's head in that nose-bag.
[_They go together to the fireplace, he with his arm round her waist._
SHEBA.
[_Looking in at the door._] How annoying! There's Aunt and Sir
Tristram in this room--Salome and Major Tarver are sitting on the hot
pipes in the conservatory--where am I and Mr. Darbey to go? Papa! Come
back!
[_She withdraws quickly as THE DEAN enters through the Library
carrying a paper in his hand; he has now resumed his normal
appearance._
THE DEAN.
Home! What sonorous music is in the word! Home, with the secret of my
sad misfortune buried in the bosoms of a faithful few. Home, with my
family influence intact! Home, with the sceptre of my dignity still
tight in my grasp! What is this I have picked up on the stairs?
[_Reads with a horrified look, as HATCHAM enters at the window._
HATCHAM.
Beg pardon, Sir Tristram.
SIR TRISTRAM.
What is it?
HATCHAM.
The chemist has just brought the annal_i_sis.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Where is he?
[_SIR TRISTRAM and GEORGIANA go out at the window, following HATCHAM._
THE DEAN.
It is too horrible! [_Reading._] "Debtor to Lewis Isaacs, Costumier to
the Queen, Bow Street--Total, Forty pounds, nineteen!" There was a
fancy masked ball at Durnstone last night! Salome--Sheba--no, no!
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
[_Bounding in and rushing at THE DEAN._] Papa, Papa!
SALOME.
Our own Papa!
SHEBA.
Papsey!
[_SALOME seizes his hands, SHEBA his coat-tails, and turn him round
violently._
SALOME.
Our parent returned!
SHEBA.
Papsey--come back!
THE DEAN.
Stop!
SALOME.
Papa, why have you tortured us with anxiety?
SHEBA.
Where have you been, you naughty man?
THE DEAN.
Before I answer a question, which, from a child to its parent,
partakes of the unpardonable vice of curiosity, I demand an
explanation of this disreputable document. [_Reading._] "Debtor to
Lewis Isaacs, Costumier to the Queen."
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
Oh!
[_SHEBA sits aghast on the table--SALOME distractedly falls on the
floor._
THE DEAN.
I will not follow this legend in all its revolting intricacies.
Suffice it, its moral is inculcated by the mournful total. Forty
pounds, nineteen! Imps of deceit! [_Looking from one to the other._]
There was a ball at Durnstone last night. I know it.
SHEBA.
Spare us!
SALOME.
You couldn't have been there, Papa!
THE DEAN.
There! I trust I was better--that is, otherwise employed. [_Referring
to the bill._] Which of my hitherto trusted daughters was a lady--no,
I will say a person--of the period of the French Revolution?
[_SHEBA points to SALOME._
THE DEAN.
And a flower-girl of an unknown epoch. [_SALOME points to SHEBA._] To
your respective rooms! [_The girls cling together._] Let your blinds
be drawn. At seven porridge will be brought to you.
SALOME.
Papa!
THE DEAN.
Go!
SHEBA.
Papsey!
THE DEAN.
Go!
SALOME.
Papa, we, poor girls as we are, can pay the bill.
THE DEAN.
You cannot--go!
SHEBA.
Through the kindness of our Aunt----
SALOME.
We have won fifty pounds.
THE DEAN.
What!
SHEBA.
At the Races!
THE DEAN.
[_Recoiling._] You too! You too drawn into the vortex! Is there no
conscience that is clear--is there no guilessness left in this house,
with the possible exception of my own!
SHEBA.
[_Sobbing._] We always knew a little more than you gave us credit for,
Papa.
THE DEAN.
[_Handing SHEBA the bill._] Take this horrid thing--never let it meet
my eyes again. As for the scandalous costumes, they shall be raffled
for in aid of local charities. Confidence, that precious pearl in the
snug shell of domesticity, is at an end between us. I chastise you
both by permanently withholding from you the reason of my absence from
home last night. Go!
[_The girls totter out as SIR TRISTRAM enters quickly at the window,
followed by GEORGIANA, carrying the basin containing the bolus. SIR
TRISTRAM has an opened letter in his hand._
SIR TRISTRAM.
Good heavens, Jedd! the analysis has arrived!
THE DEAN.
I am absolutely indifferent!
GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.
Indifferent!
THE DEAN.
[_To GEORGIANA._] How dare you confront me without even the semblance
of a blush--you who have enabled my innocent babies, for the first
time in their lives, to discharge one of their own accounts.
GEORGIANA.
There isn't a blush in our family--if there were, you'd want it.
[_SHEBA and SALOME appear outside the window, looking in._
SIR TRISTRAM.
Jedd, you were once my friend, and you are to be my relative.
THE DEAN.
[_Looking at GEORGIANA._] My sister! [_To SIR TRISTRAM._] I offer no
opposition.
SIR TRISTRAM.
But not even our approaching family tie prevents my designating you as
one of the most atrocious conspirators known in the history of the
Turf.
THE DEAN.
Conspirator!
SIR TRISTRAM.
As the owner of one-half of Dandy Dick, I denounce you!
GEORGIANA.
As the owner of the other half, _I_ denounce you!
THE DEAN.
You!
_SHEBA and SALOME enter, and remain standing in the recess,
listening._
SIR TRISTRAM.
The chief ingredient of your infernal preparation is known.
THE DEAN.
It contains nothing that I would not cheerfully administer to my own
children.
GEORGIANA.
[_In horror._] Oh!
SIR TRISTRAM.
I believe you. [_Pointing to the paper._] Strychnine! Sixteen grains!
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
[_Clinging to each other terrified._] Oh!
THE DEAN.
Strychnine! Summon my devoted servant Blore, in whose presence the
innocuous mixture was compounded. [_GEORGIANA rings the bell. The
girls hide behind the window curtains._] This analysis is simply the
pardonable result of over-enthusiasm on the part of our local chemist.
GEORGIANA.
You're a disgrace to the pretty little police station where you slept
last night!
[_BLORE enters and stands unnoticed._
THE DEAN.
I will prove that in the Deanery Stables the common laws of
hospitality have never been transgressed. Give me the bowl!
[_GEORGIANA hands THE DEAN the basin from the table._] A simple remedy
for a chill.
GEORGIANA _and_ SIR TRISTRAM.
Strychnine--sixteen grains!
THE DEAN.
I, myself, am suffering from the exposure of last night. [_Taking the
remaining bolus and opening his mouth._] Observe me!
BLORE.
[_Rushing forward, snatching the basin from THE DEAN and sinking on to
his knees._] No, no! Don't, don't! You wouldn't 'ang the holdest
servant in the Deanery.
THE DEAN.
Blore!
BLORE.
I did it! I 'ad a honest fancy for Bonny Betsy, and I wanted this
gentleman's 'orse out of the way. And while you was mixing the dose
with the best ecclesiastical intentions, I hintroduced a foreign
element.
THE DEAN.
[_Pulling BLORE up by his coat collar._] Viper!
BLORE.
Oh sir, it was hall for the sake of the Dean.
SIR TRISTRAM.
The Dean?
BLORE.
The dear Dean had only Fifty Pounds to spare for sporting purposes,
and I thought a gentleman of 'is 'igh standing ought to have a
certainty.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Jedd!
GEORGIANA.
Augustin!
THE DEAN.
I can conceal it no longer--I--I instructed this unworthy creature to
back Dandy Dick on behalf of the Restoration Fund.
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_Shaking BLORE._] And didn't you do it?
BLORE.
No.
THE DEAN.
Why not? In the name of that tottering Spire, why not?
BLORE.
Oh, sir, thinking as you'd given some of the mixture to Dandy I put
your cheerful little offering on to Bonny Betsy.
[_SALOME and SHEBA disappear._
THE DEAN.
Oh! [_To BLORE._] I could have pardoned everything but this last act
of disobedience. You are unworthy of the Deanery. Leave it for some
ordinary household.
BLORE.
If I leave the Deanery, I shall give my reasons, and then what'll
folks think of you and me in our old age?
THE DEAN.
You wouldn't spread this tale in St. Marvells?
BLORE.
Not if sober, sir--but suppose grief drove me to my cups?
THE DEAN.
I must save you from intemperance at any cost. Remain in my service--a
sad, sober and, above all, a silent man!
[_SALOME and SHEBA appear as BLORE goes out through the window._
SALOME.
Papa!
THE DEAN.
To your rooms! I am distracted!
SALOME.
Major Tarver and Mr. Darbey!----
THE DEAN.
If you have sufficiently merged all sense of moral rectitude as to
declare that I am not at home, do so.
SHEBA.
No, no. Papa; we have accidentally discovered that you, our parent,
have stooped to deception, if not to crime.
THE DEAN.
[_Staggering back._] Oh!
SHEBA.
We are still young--the sooner, therefore, we are removed from any
unfortunate influence the better.
SALOME.
We have an opportunity of beginning life afresh.
SHEBA.
These two gallant gentlemen have proposed for us.
THE DEAN.
Then I _am_ at home. Where are they?
[_He goes out rapidly, followed by SALOME and SHEBA. Directly they
have disappeared, NOAH TOPPING, looking dishevelled, rushes in at the
window, with HANNAH clinging to him._
NOAH.
[_Glaring round the room._] Is this 'ere the Deanery?
[_GEORGIANA and SIR TRISTRAM come to him._
HANNAH.
Noahry, Noah, come back!
NOAH.
Theer's been a man rescued from my lawful custody while my face was
unofficially held downwards in the mud. The villain has been traced
back to the Deanery.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Go away!
HANNAH.
Come away!
NOAH.
The man was a unknown lover of my nooly made wife!
GEORGIANA.
You mustn't bring your domestic affairs here; this is a subject for
your own fireside of an evening.
[_THE DEAN appears outside the window with SALOME, SHEBA, TARVER and
DARBEY._
THE DEAN.
[_Outside._] Come in, Major Tarver--come in, Mr. Darbey!
NOAH.
That's his voice!
_THE DEAN enters, followed by SALOME, TARVER, SHEBA and DARBEY._
NOAH.
[_Confronting THE DEAN._] My man.
HANNAH.
No, no, Noahry!
GEORGIANA.
You're speaking to Dr. Jedd, the Dean of St. Marvells.
NOAH.
I'm speaking to the man I took last night--the culprit as 'as
allynated the affections of my wife.
SIR TRISTRAM.
Wait--one moment! [_Going out at the window._
[_SALOME and TARVER go into the Library and sit at the writing-table.
DARBEY sits in an arm-chair with SHEBA on the arm._
THE DEAN.
[_Mildly._] Do not let us chide a man who is conscientious even in
error. [_Looking at HANNAH._] I think I see Hannah Evans, once an
excellent cook under this very roof.
HANNAH.
I'm Mrs. Topping now, sir--bride o' the constable. And oh, do forgive
him--he's a mass o' ignorance.
NOAH.
Coom away!
[_HANNAH returns to NOAH. as SIR TRISTRAM re-enters with HATCHAM._
SIR TRISTRAM.
[_To HATCHAM._] Hatcham--[_pointing to THE DEAN_]--Is that the man you
and the Constable secured in the stable last night?
HATCHAM.
That, sir! Bless your 'art, sir, that's the Dean 'imself.
SIR TRISTRAM.
That'll do.
HATCHAM.
[_To NOAH._] Why, our man was a short, thin individual!
[_HATCHAM goes out at the window._
THE DEAN.
[_To NOAH._] I trust you are perfectly satisfied.
NOAH.
[_Wiping his brow and looking puzzled._] I'm doon.
THE DEAN.
Don't trouble further. I withdraw unreservedly any charge against this
unknown person found on my premises last night. I attribute to him the
most innocent intentions. Hannah, you and your worthy husband will
stay and dine in my kitchen. Good afternoon.
NOAH.
Is it a 'ot dinner?
THE DEAN.
Hot--with ale.
NOAH.
[_Turning angrily to HANNAH._] Now then, you don't know a real
gentleman when you see one. Why don't 'ee thank the Dean warmly?
HANNAH.
[_Kissing THE DEAN'S hands with a curtsey._] Thank you, sir.
THE DEAN.
[_Benignly._] Go--go. I take a kindly interest in you both.
[_They back out, bowing and curtseying._
GEORGIANA.
Well, Gus, you're out of all your troubles. Are you happy?
THE DEAN.
Happy! My family influence gone forever--my dignity crushed out of all
recognition--the genial summer of the Deanery frosted by the winter of
Deceit.
GEORGIANA.
Ah, Gus, when once you lay the whip about the withers of the horse
called Deception he takes the bit between his teeth, and only the
devil can stop him--and he'd rather not. Shall I tell you who has been
riding the horse hardest?
THE DEAN.
Who?
GEORGIANA.
The Dean.
THE DEAN.
Georgiana! I'm surprised at you.
[_SHEBA sits at the piano and plays a bright air softly--DARBEY
standing behind her--SALOME and TARVER stand in the archway._
GEORGIANA.
[_Slapping THE DEAN on the back._] Look here, Augustin, George Tidd
will lend you that thousand for the poor, innocent old Spire.
THE DEAN.
[_Taking her hand._] Oh, Georgiana!
GEORGIANA.
On one condition--that you'll admit there's no harm in our laughing at
a Sporting Dean.
THE DEAN.
No, no--I cannot allow it!
GEORGIANA.
Tris! My brother Gus doesn't want us to be merry at his expense.
[_They both laugh._
THE DEAN.
[_Trying to silence them._] No, no! I forbid it! Hush!
SIR TRISTRAM.
Why, Jedd, there's no harm in laughter, for those who laugh or those
who are laughed at.
GEORGIANA.
Provided always--firstly, that it is Folly that is laughed at and not
Virtue; secondly, that it is our friends who laugh at us, [_to the
audience_] as we hope they all will, for our pains.
THE END
_Transcriber's Note_
This transcription is based on the scan images posted by The Internet
Archive at:
http://archive.org/details/dandydickplayint00pinerich
In addition, when there was a question about the printed text, another
edition posted by The Internet Archive was consulted:
http://archive.org/details/dandydickplayint00pineiala
The following changes were made to the text:
- Throughout the text, dashes at the end of lines have been
normalized.
- Throughout the text, "and" in the character titles preceding
dialogue has been italicized consistently and names in stage
directions have been consistently either capitalized (in the text
version) or set in small caps (in the html version).
- In the Introductory Note, “St. Marvells” has an apostrophe, whereas
in the text of the play it almost always does not. The inconsistency
has been allowed to stand in the Introductory Note, but the apostrophe
has been removed in the few instances in the text.
- Pg. 25: "_THE DEAN gives DARBEY a severe look..._"--A bracket has
been added to the beginning of this line.
- Pg. 97: "No, Aunt, No!"--The second "No" has been changed to lower
case.
- Pg. 139: "Oh, what do you think of it. Mr. Darbey?"--The period
after "it" has been changed to a comma.
- Pg. 141: "We can't shout here, go and cheer..."--The comma has been
changed to a semicolon.
- Pg. 142: "That's Hatcham, I'll raise his wages."--The comma has
been changed to a semicolon.
- Pg. 143: "'aint" has been changed to "ain't".
- Pg. 147: "...mutual esteem, last night..."--The comma has been
changed to a semicolon.
- Pg. 154: "I did it?" has been changed to "I did it!"
The html version of this etext attempts to reproduce the layout of the
printed text. However, some concessions have been made, particularly
in the handling of stage directions enclosed by brackets on at least
one side. (Entrances were usually without brackets.) In general, the
stage directions were typeset in the printed text as follows:
- Before and within dialogue.
- Flush right, on the same line as the end of dialogue if there was
enough space; on the next line, if there was not.
- If the stage directions were two lines, they were indented from the
left margin as hanging paragraphs. How much the stage directions were
indented varied.
In the etext, all stage directions not before or within dialogue are
placed on the next line, indented the same amount from the left
margin, and coded as hanging paragraphs.