An octagon ante-room of the hall at LORD WILLIAM DROMONDY'S.
A shining room lighted by gold candelabra, with gold-curtained
pillars, through which the shining hall and a little of the
grand stairway are visible. A small table with a gold-coloured
cloth occupies the very centre of the room, which has a polished
parquet floor and high white walls. Gold-coloured doors on the
left. Opposite these doors a window with gold-coloured curtains
looks out on Park Lane. LADY WILLIAM standing restlessly
between the double doors and the arch which leads to the hall.
JAMES is stationary by the double doors, from behind which come
sounds of speech and applause.
POULDER. [Entering from the hall] His Grace the Duke of Exeter, my
lady.
[His GRACE enters. He is old, and youthful, with a high colour
and a short rough white beard. LADY WILLIAM advances to meet
him. POULDER stands by.]
LADY W. Oh! Father, you ARE late.
HIS G. Awful crowd in the streets, Nell. They've got a coffin--
couldn't get by.
LADY W. Coin? Whose?
HIS G. The Government's I should think-no flowers, by request. I
say, have I got to speak?
LADY W. Oh! no, dear.
HIS G. H'm! That's unlucky. I've got it here. [He looks down his
cuff] Found something I said in 1914--just have done.
LADY W. Oh! If you've got it--James, ask Lord William to come to me
for a moment. [JAMES vanishes through the door. To THE DUKE] Go in,
Grand-dad; they'll be so awfully pleased to see you. I'll tell Bill.
HIS G. Where's Anne?
LADY W. In bed, of course.
HIS G. I got her this--rather nice?
[He has taken from his breast-pocket one of those street toy-men
that jump head over heels on your hand; he puts it through its
paces.]
LADY W. [Much interested] Oh! no, but how sweet! She'll simply
love it.
POULDER. If I might suggest to Your Grace to take it in and operate
it. It's sweated, Your Grace. They-er-make them in those places.
HIS G. By Jove! D'you know the price, Poulder?
POULDER. [Interrogatively] A penny, is it? Something paltry, Your
Grace!
HIS G. Where's that woman who knows everything; Miss Munday?
LADY W. Oh! She'll be in there, somewhere.
[His GRACE moves on, and passes through the doors. The sound of
applause is heard.]
POULDER. [Discreetly] would you care to see the bomb, my lady?
LADY W. Of course--first quiet moment.
POULDER. I'll bring it up, and have a watch put on it here, my lady.
[LORD WILLIAM comes through the double doom followed by JAMES.
POULDER retires.]
LORD W. Can't you come, Nell?
LADY W. Oh! Bill, your Dad wants to speak.
LORD W. The deuce he does--that's bad.
LADY W. Yes, of course, but you must let him; he's found something
he said in 1914.
LORD W. I knew it. That's what they'll say. Standing stock still,
while hell's on the jump around us.
LADY W. Never mind that; it'll please him; and he's got a lovely
little sweated toy that turns head over heels at one penny.
LORD W. H'm! Well, come on.
LADY W. No, I must wait for stragglers. There's sure to be an
editor in a hurry.
POULDER. [Announcing] Mis-ter Gold-rum!
LADY W. [Sotto voce] And there he is! [She advances to meet a thin,
straggling man in eyeglasses, who is smiling absently] How good of
you!
MR. G. Thanks awfully. I just er--and then I'm afraid I must--er--
Things look very----Thanks----Thanks so much.
[He straggles through the doors, and is enclosed by JAMES.]
POULDER. Miss Mun-day.
LORD W. There! I thought she was in--She really is the most
unexpected woman! How do you do? How awfully sweet of you!
MISS M. [An elderly female schoolboy] How do you do? There's a
spiffing crowd. I believe things are really going Bolshy. How do
you do, Lord William? Have you got any of our people to show? I
told one or two, in case--they do so simply love an outing.
JAMES. There are three old chips in the lobby, my Lord.
LORD W. What? Oh! I say! Bring them in at once. Why--they're the
hub of the whole thing.
JAMES. [Going] Very good, my Lord.
LADY W. I am sorry. I'd no notion; and they're such dears always.
MISS M. I must tell you what one of them said to me. I'd told him
not to use such bad language to his wife. "Don't you worry, Ma!" he
said, "I expert you can do a bit of that yourself!"
LADY W. How awfully nice! It's SO like them.
MISS M. Yes. They're wonderful.
LORD W. I say, why do we always call them they?
LADY W. [Puzzled] Well, why not?
LORD W. THEY!
MISS M. [Struck] Quite right, Lord William! Quite right! Another
species. They! I must remember that. THEY! [She passes on.]
LADY W. [About to follow] Well, I don't see; aren't they?
LORD W. Never mind, old girl; follow on. They'll come in with me.
[MISS MUNDAY and LADY WILLIAM pass through the double doors.]
POULDER. [Announcing] Some sweated workers, my Lord.
[There enter a tall, thin, oldish woman; a short, thin, very
lame man, her husband; and a stoutish middle-aged woman with a
rolling eye and gait, all very poorly dressed, with lined and
heated faces.]
LORD W. [Shaking hands] How d'you do! Delighted to see you all.
It's awfully good of you to have come.
LAME M. Mr. and Mrs. Tomson. We 'ad some trouble to find it. You
see, I've never been in these parts. We 'ad to come in the oven; and
the bus-bloke put us dahn wrong. Are you the proprietor?
LORD W. [Modestly] Yes, I--er--
LAME M. You've got a nice plyce. I says to the missis, I says:
"'E's got a nice plyce 'ere," I says; "there's room to turn rahnd."
LORD W. Yes--shall we--?
LAME M. An' Mrs. Annaway she says: "Shouldn't mind livin 'ere
meself," she says; "but it must cost'im a tidy penny," she says.
LORD W. It does--it does; much too tidy. Shall we--?
MRS. ANN. [Rolling her eye] I'm very pleased to 'ave come. I've
often said to 'em: "Any time you want me," I've said, "I'd be pleased
to come."
LORD W. Not so pleased as we are to see you.
MRS. ANN. I'm sure you're very kind.
JAMES. [From the double doors, through which he has received a
message] Wanted for your speech, my Lord.
LORD W. Oh! God! Poulder, bring these ladies and gentleman in, and
put them where everybody can--where they can see everybody, don't you
know.
[He goes out hurriedly through the double doors.]
LAME M. Is 'e a lord?
POULDER. He is. Follow me.
[He moves towards the doors, the three workers follow.]
MRS. ANN. [Stopping before JAMES] You 'yn't one, I suppose?
[JAMES stirs no muscle.]
POULDER. Now please. [He opens the doors. The Voice of LORD
WILLIAM speaking is heard] Pass in.
[THE THREE WORKERS pass in, POULDER and JAMES follow them. The
doors are not closed, and through this aperture comes the voice
of LORD WILLIAM, punctuated and supported by decorous applause.]
[LITTLE ANNE runs in, and listens at the window to the confused
and distant murmurs of a crowd.]
VOICE OF LORD W. We propose to move for a further advance in the
chain-making and--er--er--match-box industries. [Applause.]
[LITTLE ANNE runs across to the door, to listen.]
[On rising voice] I would conclude with some general remarks.
Ladies and gentlemen, the great natural, but--er--artificial
expansion which trade experienced the first years after the war has--
er--collapsed. These are hard times. We who are fortunate feel more
than ever--er--responsible--[He stammers, loses the thread of his
thoughts.]--[Applause]--er--responsible--[The thread still eludes
him]--er----
L. ANNE. [Poignantly] Oh, Daddy!
LORD W. [Desperately] In fact--er--you know how--er--responsible we
feel.
L. ANNE. Hooray! [Applause.]
[There float in through the windows the hoarse and distant
sounds of the Marseillaise, as sung by London voices.]
LORD W. There is a feeling in the air--that I for one should say
deliberately was--er--a feeling in the air--er--a feeling in the
air----
L. ANNE. [Agonised] Oh, Daddy! Stop!
[Jane enters, and closes the door behind him. JAMES. Look
here! 'Ave I got to report you to Miss Stokes?]
L. ANNE. No-o-o!
JAMES. Well, I'm goin' to.
L. ANNE. Oh, James, be a friend to me! I've seen nothing yet.
JAMES. No; but you've eaten a good bit, on the stairs. What price
that Peach Melba?
L. ANNE. I can't go to bed till I've digested it can I? There's
such a lovely crowd in the street!
JAMES. Lovely? Ho!
L. ANNE. [Wheedling] James, you couldn't tell Miss Stokes! It
isn't in you, is it?
JAMES. [Grinning] That's right.
L. ANNE. So-I'll just get under here. [She gets under the table]
Do I show?
JAMES. [Stooping] Not 'arf!
[POULDER enters from the hall.]
POULDER. What are you doin' there?
JAMES. [Between him and the table--raising himself] Thinkin'.
[POULDER purses his mouth to repress his feedings.]
POULDER. My orders are to fetch the bomb up here for Lady William to
inspect. Take care no more writers stray in.
JAMES. How shall I know 'em?
POULDER. Well--either very bald or very hairy.
JAMES. Right-o! [He goes.]
[POULDER, with his back to the table, busies himself with the
set of his collar.]
POULDER. [Addressing an imaginary audience--in a low but important
voice] The--ah--situation is seerious. It is up to us of the--ah--
leisured classes----
[The face of LITTLE ANNE is poked out close to his legs, and
tilts upwards in wonder towards the bow of his waistcoat.]
to--ah--keep the people down. The olla polloi are clamourin'----
[Miss STOKES appears from the hall, between the pillars.]
Miss S. Poulder!
POULDER. [Making a volte face towards the table] Miss?
MISS S. Where is Anne?
POULDER. [Vexed at the disturbance of his speech] Excuse me, Miss--
to keep track of Miss Anne is fortunately no part of my dooties.
[Miss S. She really is naughty.]
POULDER. She is. If she was mine, I'd spank her.
[The smiling face of LITTLE ANNE becomes visible again close to
his legs.]
MISS S. Not a nice word.
POULDER. No; but a pleasant haction. Miss Anne's the limit. In
fact, Lord and Lady William are much too kind 'earted all round.
Take these sweated workers; that class o' people are quite 'opeless.
Treatin' them as your equals, shakin 'ands with 'em, givin 'em tea--
it only puffs 'em out. Leave it to the Church, I say.
MISS S. The Church is too busy, Poulder.
POULDER. Ah! That "Purity an' Future o' the Race Campaign." I'll
tell you what I thinks the danger o' that, Miss. So much purity that
there won't be a future race. [Expanding] Purity of 'eart's an
excellent thing, no doubt, but there's a want of nature about it.
Same with this Anti-Sweating. Unless you're anxious to come down,
you must not put the lower classes up.
MISS S. I don't agree with you at all, Poulder.
POULDER. Ah! You want it both ways, Miss. I should imagine you're
a Liberal.
MISS S. [Horrified] Oh, no! I certainly am not.
POULDER. Well, I judged from your takin' cocoa. Funny thing that,
about cocoa-how it still runs through the Liberal Party! It's
virtuous, I suppose. Wine, beer, tea, coffee-all of 'em vices. But
cocoa you might drink a gallon a day and annoy no one but yourself!
There's a lot o' deep things in life, Miss!
Miss S. Quite so. But I must find Anne.
[She recedes. ]
POULDER. [Suavely] Well, I wish you every success; and I hope
you'll spank her. This modern education--there's no fruitiness in
it.
L. ANNE. [From under the table] Poulder, are you virtuous?
POULDER. [Jumping] Good Ged!
L. ANNE. D'you mind my asking? I promised James I would.
POULDER. Miss Anne, come out!
[The four footmen appear in the hall, HENRY carrying the wine
cooler.]
JAMES. Form fours-by your right-quick march!
[They enter, marching down right of table.]
Right incline--Mark time! Left turn! 'Alt! 'Enry, set the bomb!
Stand easy!
[HENRY places the wine cooler on the table and covers it with a
blue embroidered Chinese mat, which has occupied the centre of
the tablecloth.]
POULDER. Ah! You will 'ave your game! Thomas, take the door there!
James, the 'all! Admit titles an' bishops. No literary or Labour
people. Charles and 'Enry, 'op it and 'ang about!
[CHARLES and HENRY go out, the other too move to their
stations.]
[POULDER, stands by the table looking at the covered bomb. The
hoarse and distant sounds of the Marseillaise float in again
from Park Lane.]
[Moved by some deep feeling] And this house an 'orspital in the war!
I ask you--what was the good of all our sacrifices for the country?
No town 'ouse for four seasons--rustygettin' in the shires, not a
soul but two boys under me. Lord William at the front, Lady William
at the back. And all for this! [He points sadly at the cooler] It
comes of meddlin' on the Continent. I had my prognostications at the
time. [To JAMES] You remember my sayin' to you just before you
joined up: "Mark my words--we shall see eight per cent. for our money
before this is over!"
JAMES. [Sepulchrally] I see the eight per cent., but not the money.
POULDER. Hark at that!
[The sounds of the Marseillaise grow louder. He shakes his
head.]
I'd read the Riot Act. They'll be lootin' this house next!
JAMES. We'll put up a fight over your body: "Bartholomew Poulder,
faithful unto death!" Have you insured your life?
POULDER. Against a revolution?
JAMES. Act o' God! Why not?
POULDER. It's not an act o' God.
JAMES. It is; and I sympathise with it.
POULDER. You--what?
JAMES. I do--only--hands off the gov'nor.
POULDER. Oh! Really! Well, that's something. I'm glad to see you
stand behind him, at all events.
JAMES. I stand in front of 'im when the scrap begins!
POULDER. Do you insinuate that my heart's not in the right place?
JAMES. Well, look at it! It's been creepin' down ever since I knew
you. Talk of your sacrifices in the war--they put you on your
honour, and you got stout on it. Rations--not 'arf.
POULDER. [Staring at him] For independence, I've never seen your
equal, James. You might be an Australian.
JAMES. [Suavely] Keep a civil tongue, or I'll throw you to the
crowd! [He comes forward to the table] Shall I tell you why I
favour the gov'nor? Because, with all his pomp, he's a gentleman, as
much as I am. Never asks you to do what he wouldn't do himself.
What's more, he never comes it over you. If you get drunk, or--well,
you understand me, Poulder--he'll just say: "Yes, yes; I know,
James!" till he makes you feel he's done it himself. [Sinking his
voice mysteriously] I've had experience with him, in the war and out.
Why he didn't even hate the Huns, not as he ought. I tell you he's
no Christian.
POULDER. Well, for irreverence----!
JAMES. [Obstinately] And he'll never be. He's got too soft a
heart.
L. ANNE. [Beneath the table-shrilly] Hurrah!
POULDER. [Jumping] Come out, Miss Anne!
JAMES. Let 'er alone!
POULDER. In there, under the bomb?
JAMES. [Contemptuously] Silly ass! You should take 'em lying down!
POULDER. Look here, James! I can't go on in this revolutionary
spirit; either you or I resign.
JAMES. Crisis in the Cabinet!
POULDER. I give you your marchin' orders.
JAMES. [Ineffably] What's that you give me?
POULDER. Thomas, remove James!
[THOMAS grins.]
L. ANNE. [Who, with open mouth, has crept out to see the fun] Oh!
Do remove James, Thomas!
POULDER. Go on, Thomas.
[THOMAS takes one step towards JAMES, who lays a hand on the
Chinese mat covering the bomb.]
JAMES. [Grimly] If I lose control of meself.
L. ANNE. [Clapping her hands] Oh! James! Do lose control! Then I
shall see it go off!
JAMES. [To POULDER] Well, I'll merely empty the pail over you!
POULDER. This is not becomin'!
[He walks out into the hall.]
JAMES. Another strategic victory! What a Boche he'd have made. As
you were, Tommy!
[THOMAS returns to the door. The sound of prolonged applause
cornea from within.]
That's a bishop.
L. ANNE. Why?
JAMES. By the way he's drawin'. It's the fine fightin' spirit in
'em. They were the backbone o' the war. I see there's a bit o' the
old stuff left in you, Tommy.
L. ANNE. [Scrutinizing the widely--grinning THOM] Where? Is it in
his mouth?
JAMES. You've still got a sense of your superiors. Didn't you
notice how you moved to Poulder's orders, me boy; an' when he was
gone, to mine?
L. ANNE. [To THOMAS] March!
[The grinning THOMAS remains immovable.]
He doesn't, James!
JAMES. Look here, Miss Anne--your lights ought to be out before ten.
Close in, Tommy!
[He and THOMAS move towards her.]
L. ANNE. [Dodging] Oh, no! Oh, no! Look!
[The footmen stop and turn. There between the pillars, stands
LITTLE AIDA with the trousers, her face brilliant With
surprise.]
JAMES. Good Lord! What's this?
[Seeing L. ANNE, LITTLE AIDA approaches, fascinated, and the two
children sniff at each other as it were like two little dogs
walking round and round.]
L. ANNE. [Suddenly] My name's Anne; what's yours?
L. AIDA. Aida.
L. ANNE. Are you lost?
L. AIDA. Nao.
L. ANNE. Are those trousers?
L. AIDA. Yus.
L. Arms. Whose?
L. AIDA. Mrs. Lemmy's.
L. ANNE. Does she wear them?
[LITTLE AIDA smiles brilliantly.]
L. AIDA. Nao. She sews 'em.
L. ANNE. [Touching the trousers] They are hard. James's are much
softer; aren't they, James? [JAMES deigns no reply] What shall we
do? Would you like to see my bedroom?
L. AIDA. [With a hop] Aoh, yus!
JAMES. No.
L. ANNE. Why not?
JAMES. Have some sense of what's fittin'.
L. ANNE. Why isn't it fittin'? [To LITTLE AIDA] Do you like me?
L. AIDA. Yus-s.
L. ANNE. So do I. Come on!
[She takes LITTLE AIDA'S hand.]
JAMES. [Between the pillars] Tommy, ketch 'em!
[THOMAS retains them by the skirts.]
L. ANNE. [Feigning indifference] All right, then! [To LITTLE AIDA]
Have you ever seen a bomb?
L. AIDA. Nao.
L. ANNE. [Going to the table and lifting a corner of the cover]
Look!
L. AIDA. [Looking] What's it for?
L. ANNE. To blow up this house.
L. AIDA. I daon't fink!
L. ANNE. Why not?
L. AIDA. It's a beautiful big 'Ouse.
L. ANNE. That's why. Isn't it, James?
L. AIDA. You give the fing to me; I'll blow up our 'ouse--it's an
ugly little 'ouse.
L. ANNE [Struck] Let's all blow up our own; then we can start fair.
Daddy would like that.
L. AIDA. Yus. [Suddenly brilliant] I've 'ad a ride in a taxi, an'
we're goin' 'ome in it agyne!
L. ANNE. Were you sick?
LITTLE AIDA. [Brilliant] Nao.
L. ANNE I was; when I first went in one, but I was quite young then.
James, could you get her a Peche Melba? There was one.
JAMES. No.
L. ANNE. Have you seen the revolution?
L. AIDA. Wot's that?
L. ANNE. It's made of people.
L. AIDA. I've seen the corfin, it's myde o' wood.
L. ANNE. Do you hate the rich?
L. AIDA. [Ineffably] Nao. I hates the poor.
L. ANNE. Why?
L. AIDA. 'Cos they 'yn't got nuffin'.
L. ANNE. I love the poor. They're such dears.
L. AIDA. [Shaking her head with a broad smile] Nao.
L. ANNE. Why not?
L. AIDA. I'd tyke and lose the lot, I would.
L. ANNE. Where?
L. AIDA. In the water.
L. ANNE. Like puppies?
L. AIDA. Yus.
L. ANNE. Why?
L. AIDA. Then I'd be shut of 'em.
L. ANNE. [Puzzled] Oh!
[The voice of THE PRESS is heard in the hall. "Where's the
little girl?"]
JAMES. That's you. Come 'ere!
[He puts a hand behind LITTLE AIDA'S back and propels her
towards the hall. THE PRESS enters with old MRS. LEMMY.]
PRESS. Oh! Here she is, major domo. I'm going to take this old
lady to the meeting; they want her on the platform. Look after our
friend, Mr. Lemmy here; Lord William wants to see him presently.
L. ANNE. [In an awed whisper] James, it's the little blighter!
[She dives again under the table. LEMMY enters.]
LEMMY. 'Ere! 'Arf a mo'! Yer said yer'd drop me at my plyce.
Well, I tell yer candid--this 'yn't my plyce.
PRESS. That's all right, Mr. Lemmy. [He grins] They'll make you
wonderfully comfortable, won't you, major domo?
[He passes on through the room, to the door, ushering old MRS.
LEMMY and LITTLE AIDA.]
[POULDER blocks LEMMY'S way, with CHARLES and HENRY behind him.]
POULDER. James, watch it; I'll report.
[He moves away, following THE PRESS through the door. JAMES
between table and window. THOMAS has gone to the door. HENRY
and CHARLES remain at the entrances to the hall. LEMMY looks
dubiously around, his cockney assurrance gradually returns.]
LEMMY. I think I knows the gas 'ere. This is where I came to-dy,
'yn't it? Excuse my hesitytion--these little 'ouses IS so much the
syme.
JAMES. [Gloomily] They are!
LEMMY. [Looking at the four immovable footmen, till he concentrates
on JAMES] Ah! I 'ad a word wiv you, 'adn't I? You're the four
conscientious ones wot's wyin' on your gov'nor's chest. 'Twas you I
spoke to, wasn't it? [His eyes travel over them again] Ye're so
monotonous. Well, ye're busy now, I see. I won't wyste yer time.
[He turns towards the hall, but CHARLES and HENRY bar the way in
silence.]
[Skidding a little, and regarding the four immovables once more]
I never see such pytient men? Compared wiv yer, mountains is
restless.
[He goes to the table. JAMES watches him. ANNE barks from
underneath.]
[Skidding again] Why! There's a dawg under there. [Noting the grin
on THOMAS'S face] Glad it amooses yer. Yer want it, daon't yer, wiv
a fyce like that? Is this a ply wivaht words? 'Ave I got into the
movies by mistyke? Turn aht, an' let's 'ave six penn'orth o'
darkness.
L. ANNE. [From beneath the cable] No, no! Not dark!
LEMMY. [Musingly] The dawg talks anywy. Come aht, Fido!
[LITTLE ANNE emerges, and regards him with burning curiosity.]
I sy: Is this the lytest fashion o' receivin' guests?
L. ANNE. Mother always wants people to feel at home. What shall we
do? Would you like to hear the speeches? Thomas, open the door a
little, do!
JAMES. 'Umour 'er a couple o' inches, Tommy!
[THOMAS draws the door back stealthily an inch or so.]
L. ANNE. [After applying her eye-in a loud whisper] There's the old
lady. Daddy's looking at her trousers. Listen!
[For MRS. LEMMY'S voice is floating faintly through: "I putt in
the buttonholes, I stretches the flies; I 'ems the bottoms; I
lines the crutch; I putt on this bindin'; I sews on the buttons;
I presses the seams--Tuppence three farthin's the pair."]
LEMMY. [In a hoarse whisper] That's it, old lydy: give it 'em!
L. ANNE. Listen!
VOICE OF LORD W. We are indebted to our friends the Press for giving
us the pleasure--er--pleasure of hearing from her own lips--the
pleasure----
L. ANNE. Oh! Daddy!
[THOMAS abruptly closes the doors.]
LEMMY. [To ANNE] Now yer've done it. See wot comes o' bein'
impytient. We was just gettin' to the marrer.
L. ANNE. What can we do for you now?
LEMMY. [Pointing to ANNE, and addressing JAMES] Wot is this one,
anywy?
JAMES. [Sepulchrally] Daughter o' the house.
LEMMY. Is she insured agynst 'er own curiosity?
L. ANNE. Why?
LEMMY. As I daon't believe in a life beyond the gryve, I might be
tempted to send yer there.
L. ANNE. What is the gryve?
LEMMY. Where little gells goes to.
L. ANNE. Oh, when?
LEMMY. [Pretending to look at a match, which is not there] Well, I
dunno if I've got time to finish yer this minute. Sy to-mower at.
'arf past.
L. ANNE. Half past what?
LEMMY. [Despairingly] 'Arf past wot!
[The sound of applause is heard.]
JAMES. That's 'is Grace. 'E's gettin' wickets, too.
[POULDER entering from the door.]
POULDER. Lord William is slippin' in.
[He makes a cabalistic sign with his head. Jeers crosses to the
door. LEMMY looks dubiously at POULDER.]
LEMMY. [Suddenly--as to himself] Wot oh! I am the portly one!
POULDER. [Severely] Any such allusion aggeravates your offence.
LEMMY. Oh, ah! Look 'ere, it was a corked bottle. Now, tyke care,
tyke care, 'aughty! Daon't curl yer lip! I shall myke a clean
breast o' my betryal when the time comes!
[There is a alight movement of the door. ANNE makes a dive
towards the table but is arrested by POULDER grasping her
waistband. LORD WILLIAM slips in, followed by THE PRESS, on
whom JAMES and THOMAS close the door too soon.]
HALF OF THE PRESS. [Indignantly] Look out!
JAMES. Do you want him in or out, me Lord?
LEMMY. I sy, you've divided the Press; 'e was unanimous.
[The FOOTMEN let THE PRESS through.]
LORD W. [To THE PRESS] I'm so sorry.
LEMMY. Would yer like me to see to 'is gas?
LORD W. So you're my friend of the cellars?
LEMMY. [Uneasy] I daon't deny it.
[POULDER begins removing LITTLE ANNE.]
L. ANNE. Let me stay, Daddy; I haven't seen anything yet! If I go,
I shall only have to come down again when they loot the house.
Listen!
[The hoarse strains of the Marseillaise are again heard from the
distance.]
LORD W. [Blandly] Take her up, Poulder!
L. ANNE. Well, I'm coming down again--and next time I shan't have
any clothes on, you know.
[They vanish between the pillars. LORD WILLIAM makes a sign of
dismissal. The FOOTMAN file out.]
LEMMY. [Admiringly] Luv'ly pyces!
LORD W. [Pleasantly] Now then; let's have our talk, Mr.----
LEMMY. Lemmy.
PRESS. [Who has slipped his note-book out] "Bombed and Bomber face
to face----"
LEMMY. [Uneasy] I didn't come 'ere agyne on me own, yer know. The
Press betryed me.
LORD W. Is that old lady your mother?
LEMMY. The syme. I tell yer stryte, it was for 'er I took that old
bottle o' port. It was orful old.
LORD W. Ah! Port? Probably the '83. Hope you both enjoyed it.
LEMMY. So far-yus. Muvver'll suffer a bit tomower, I expect.
LORD W. I should like to do something for your mother, if you'll
allow me.
LEMMY. Oh! I'll allow yer. But I dunno wot she'll sy.
LORD W. I can see she's a fine independent old lady! But suppose
you were to pay her ten bob a week, and keep my name out of it?
LEMMY. Well, that's one wy o' YOU doin' somefink, 'yn't it?
LORD W. I giving you the money, of course.
PRESS. [Writing] "Lord William, with kingly generosity----"
LEMMY. [Drawing attention to THE PRESS with his thumb] I sy--
I daon't mind, meself--if you daon't----
LORD W. He won't write anything to annoy me.
PRESS. This is the big thing, Lord William; it'll get the public
bang in the throat.
LEMMY. [Confidentially] Bit dyngerous, 'yn't it? trustin' the
Press? Their right 'ands never knows wot their left 'ands is
writin'. [To THE PRESS] 'Yn't that true, speakin' as a man?
PRESS. Mr. Lemmy, even the Press is capable of gratitude.
LEMMY. Is it? I should ha' thought it was too important for a
little thing like that. [To LORD WILLIAM] But ye're quite right; we
couldn't do wivaht the Press--there wouldn't be no distress, no
coffin, no revolution--'cos nobody'd know nuffin' abaht it. Why!
There wouldn't be no life at all on Earf in these dyes, wivaht the
Press! It's them wot says: "Let there be Light--an' there is Light."
LORD W. Umm! That's rather a new thought to me. [Writes on his
cuff.]
LEMMY. But abaht Muvver, I'll tell yer 'ow we can arrynge. You send
'er the ten bob a week wivaht syin' anyfink, an' she'll fink it comes
from Gawd or the Gover'ment yer cawn't tell one from t'other in
Befnal Green.
LORD W. All right; we'll' do that.
LEMMY. Will yer reely? I'd like to shyke yer 'and.
[LORD WILLIAM puts out his hand, which LEMMY grasps.]
PRESS. [Writing] "The heartbeat of humanity was in that grasp
between the son of toil and the son of leisure."
LEMMY. [Already ashamed of his emotion] 'Ere, 'arf a mo'! Which is
which? Daon't forget I'm aht o' wori; Lord William, if that's 'is
nyme, is workin 'ard at 'is Anti-Sweats! Wish I could get a job like
vat--jist suit me!
LORD W. That hits hard, Mr. Lemmy.
LEMMY. Daon't worry! Yer cawn't 'elp bein' born in the purple!
LORD W. Ah! Tell me, what would you do in my place?
LEMMY. Why--as the nobleman said in 'is well-known wy: "Sit in me
Club winder an' watch it ryne on the dam people!" That's if I was a
average nobleman! If I was a bit more noble, I might be tempted to
come the kind'earted on twenty thou' a year. Some prefers yachts, or
ryce 'orses. But philanthropy on the 'ole is syfer, in these dyes.
LORD W. So you think one takes to it as a sort of insurance, Mr.
Lemmy? Is that quite fair?
LEMMY. Well, we've all got a weakness towards bein' kind, somewhere
abaht us. But the moment wealf comes in, we 'yn't wot I call
single-'earted. If yer went into the foundytions of your wealf--would
yer feel like 'avin' any? It all comes from uvver people's 'ard,
unpleasant lybour--it's all built on Muvver as yer might sy. An' if
yer daon't get rid o' some of it in bein' kind--yer daon't feel syfe
nor comfy.
LORD W. [Twisting his moustache] Your philosophy is very pessimistic.
LEMMY. Well, I calls meself an optimist; I sees the worst of
everyfink. Never disappynted, can afford to 'ave me smile under the
blackest sky. When deaf is squeezin' of me windpipe, I shall 'ave a
laugh in it! Fact is, if yer've 'ad to do wiv gas an' water pipes,
yer can fyce anyfing. [The distant Marseillaise blares up] 'Ark at
the revolution!
LORD W. [Rather desperately] I know--hunger and all the rest of it!
And here am I, a rich man, and don't know what the deuce to do.
LEMMY. Well, I'll tell yer. Throw yer cellars open, an' while the
populyce is gettin' drunk, sell all yer 'ave an' go an' live in
Ireland; they've got the millennium chronic over there.
[LORD WILLIAM utters a short, vexed laugh, and begins to walk
about.]
That's speakin' as a practical man. Speakin' as a synt "Bruvvers,
all I 'ave is yours. To-morrer I'm goin' dahn to the Lybour Exchynge
to git put on the wytin' list, syme as you!"
LORD W. But, d---it, man, there we should be, all together! Would
that help?
LEMMY. Nao; but it'd syve a lot o' blood.
[LORD WILLIAM stops abruptly, and looks first at LEMMY, then at
the cooler, still cohered with the Chinese mat.]
Yer thought the Englishman could be taught to shed blood wiv syfety.
Not 'im! Once yer git 'im into an 'abit, yer cawn't git 'im out of
it agyne. 'E'll go on sheddin' blood mechanical--Conservative by
nyture. An' 'e won't myke nuffin' o' yours. Not even the Press wiv
'is 'oneyed words'll sty 'is 'and.
LORD W. And what do you suggest we could have done, to avoid
trouble?
LEMMY. [Warming to his theme] I'll tell yer. If all you wealfy
nobs wiv kepitel 'ad come it kind from the start after the war yer'd
never 'a been 'earin' the Marseillaisy naow. Lord! 'Ow you did talk
abaht Unity and a noo spirit in the Country. Noo spirit! Why, soon
as ever there was no dynger from outside, yer stawted to myke it
inside, wiv an iron'and. Naow, you've been in the war an' it's given
yer a feelin' 'eart; but most of the nobs wiv kepitel was too old or
too important to fight. They weren't born agyne. So naow that bad
times is come, we're 'owlin' for their blood.
LORD W. I quite agree; I quite agree. I've often said much the same
thing.
LEMMY. Voice cryin' in the wilderness--I daon't sy we was yngels--
there was faults on bofe sides. [He looks at THE PRESS] The Press
could ha' helped yer a lot. Shall I tell yer wot the Press did?
"It's vital," said the Press, "that the country should be united, or
it will never recover." Nao strikes, nao 'omen nature, nao nuffink.
Kepitel an' Lybour like the Siamese twins. And, fust dispute that
come along, the Press orfs wiv its coat an' goes at it bald'eaded.
An' wot abaht since? Sich a riot o' nymes called, in Press--and
Pawlyement. Unpatriotic an' outrygeous demands o' lybour.
Blood-suckin' tyranny o' Kepitel; thieves an' dawgs an 'owlin
Jackybines--gents throwin' books at each other; all the resources of
edjucytion exhausted! If I'd bin Prime Minister I'd 'ave 'ad the
Press's gas cut 'orf at the meter. Puffect liberty, of course, nao
Censorship; just sy wot yer like--an' never be 'eard of no more.
[Turning suddenly to THE PRESS, who has been scribbling in pace
with this harangue, and now has developed a touch of writer's
cramp.]
Why! 'Is 'end's out o' breath! Fink o' vet!
LORD W. Great tribute to your eloquence, Mr. Lemmy!
[A sudden stir of applause and scraping of chairs is heard; the
meeting is evidently breaking up. LADY WILLIAM comes in,
followed by MRS. LEMMY with her trousers, and LITTLE AIDA.
LEMMY stares fixedly at this sudden, radiant apparition. His
gaze becomes as that of a rabbit regarding a snake. And
suddenly he puts up his hand and wipes his brow.]
[LADY WILLIAM, going to the table, lifts one end of the Chinese
mat, and looks at LEMMY. Then she turns to LORD WILLIAM.]
LADY W. Bill!
LEMMY. [To his mother--in a hoarse whisper] She calls 'im Bill.
'Ow! 'Yn't she IT?
LADY W. [Apart] Have you--spoken to him?
[LORD WILLIAM shakes his head.]
Not? What have you been saying, then?
LORD W. Nothing, he's talked all the time.
LADY W. [Very low] What a little caution!
LORD W. Steady, old girl! He's got his eye on you!
[LADY WILLIAM looks at LEMMY, whose eyes are still fixed on
her.]
LADY W. [With resolution] Well, I'm going to tackle him.
[She moves towards LEMMY, who again wipes his brow, and wrings
out his hand.]
MRS. LEMMY. Don't 'ee du that, Bob. Yu must forgive'im, Ma'am; it's
'is admiration. 'E was always one for the ladies, and he'm not used
to seein' so much of 'em.
LADY W. Don't you think you owe us an explanation?
MRS. LEMMY. Speak up, Bob.
[But LEMMY only shifts his feet.]
My gudeness! 'E've a-lost 'is tongue. I never knu that 'appen to 'e
before.
LORD W. [Trying to break the embarrassment] No ill-feeling, you
know, Lemmy.
[But LEMMY still only rolls his eyes.]
LADY W. Don't you think it was rather--inconsiderate of you?
LEMMY. Muvver, tyke me aht, I'm feelin' fynte!
[Spurts of the Marseillaise and the mutter of the crowd have
been coming nearer; and suddenly a knocking is heard. POULDER
and JAMES appear between the pillars.]
POULDER. The populace, me Lord!
LADY W. What!
LORD W. Where've you put 'em, Poulder?
POULDER. They've put theirselves in the portico, me Lord.
LORD W. [Suddenly wiping his brow] Phew! I say, this is awful,
Nell! Two speeches in one evening. Nothing else for it, I suppose.
Open the window, Poulder!
POULDER. [Crossing to the window] We are prepared for any
sacrifice, me Lord.
[He opens the window.]
PRESS. [Writing furiously] "Lady William stood like a statue at
bay."
LORD W. Got one of those lozenges on you, Nell?
[But LADY WILLIAM has almost nothing on her.]
LEMMY. [Producing a paper from his pocket] 'Ave one o' my gum
drops?
[He passes it to LORD WILLIAM.]
LORD W. [Unable to refuse, takes a large, flat gum drop from the
paper, and looks at it in embarrassment.] Ah! thanks! Thanks
awfully!
[LEMMY turns to LITTLE AIDA, and puts a gum drop in her mouth.
A burst of murmurs from the crowd.]
JAMES. [Towering above the wine cooler] If they get saucy, me Lord,
I can always give 'em their own back.
LORD W. Steady, James; steady!
[He puts the gum drop absently in his mouth, and turns up to the
open window.]
VOICE. [Outside] 'Ere they are--the bally plutocrats.
[Voices in chorus: "Bread! Bread!"]
LORD W. Poulder, go and tell the chef to send out anything there is
in the house--nicely, as if it came from nowhere in particular.
POULDER. Very good, me Lord. [Sotto voce] Any wine? If I might
suggest--German--'ock?
LORD W. What you like.
POULDER. Very good, me Lord. [He goes.]
LORD W. I say, dash it, Nell, my teeth are stuck! [He works his
finger in his mouth.]
LADY W. Take it out, darling.
LORD W. [Taking out the gum drop and looking at it] What the deuce
did I put it in for?
PRESS. ['Writing] "With inimitable coolness Lord William prepared
to address the crowd."
[Voices in chorea: "Bread! Bread!"]
LORD W. Stand by to prompt, old girl. Now for it. This ghastly gum
drop!
[LORD WILLIAM takes it from his agitated hand, and flips it
through the window.]
VOICE. Dahn with the aristo----[Chokes.]
LADY W. Oh! Bill----oh! It's gone into a mouth!
LORD W. Good God!
VOICE. Wet's this? Throwin' things? Mind aht, or we'll smash yer
winders!
[As the voices in chorus chant: "Bread! Bread!" LITTLE ANNE,
night-gowned, darts in from the hall. She is followed by MISS
STOKES. They stand listening.]
LORD W. [To the Crowd] My friends, you've come to the wrong shop.
There's nobody in London more sympathetic with you. [The crowd
laughs hoarsely.] [Whispering] Look out, old girl; they can see your
shoulders. [LORD WILLIAM moves back a step.] If I were a speaker, I
could make you feel----
VOICE. Look at his white weskit! Blood-suckers--fattened on the
people!
[JAMES dives his hand at the wine cooler.]
LORD W. I've always said the Government ought to take immediate
steps----
VOICE. To shoot us dahn.
LORD W. Not a bit. To relieve the--er----
LADY W. [Prompting] Distress.
LADY W. Distress, and ensure--er--ensure
LADY W. [Prompting] Quiet.
LORD W. [To her] No, no. To ensure--ensure----
L. ANNE. [Agonized] Oh, Daddy!
VOICE. 'E wants to syve 'is dirty great 'ouse.
LORD W. [Roused] D----if I do!
[Rude and hoarse laughter from the crowd.]
JAMES. [With fury] Me Lord, let me blow 'em to glory!
[He raises the cooler and advances towards the window.]
LORD W. [Turning sharply on him] Drop it, James; drop it!
PRESS. [Jumping] No, no; don't drop it!
[JAMES retires crestfallen to the table, where he replaces the
cooler.]
LORD W. [Catching hold of his bit] Look here, I must have fought
alongside some of you fellows in the war. Weren't we jolly well like
brothers?
A VOICE. Not so much bloomin' "Kamerad"; hand over yer 'Ouse.
LORD W. I was born with this beastly great house, and money, and
goodness knows what other entanglements--a wife and family----
VOICE. Born with a wife and family!
[Jeers and laughter.]
LORD W. I feel we're all in the same boat, and I want to pull my
weight. If you can show me the way, I'll take it fast enough.
A DEEP VOICE. Step dahn then, an' we'll step up.
ANOTHER VOICE. 'Ear, 'Ear!
[A fierce little cheer.]
LORD W. [To LADY WILLIAM--in despair] By George! I can't get in
anywhere!
LADY W. [Calmly] Then shut the window, Bill.
LEMMY. [Who has been moving towards them slowly] Lemme sy a word to
'em.
[All stare at him. LEMMY approaches the window, followed by
LITTLE AIDA. POULDER re-enters with the three other footmen.]
[At the window] Cheerio! Cockies!
[The silence of surprise falls on the crowd.]
I'm one of yer. Gas an' water I am. Got more grievances an' out of
employment than any of yer. I want to see their blood flow, syme as
you.
PRESS. [writing] "Born orator--ready cockney wit--saves situation."
LEMMY. Wot I sy is: Dahn wiv the country, dahn wiv everyfing. Begin
agyne from the foundytions. [Nodding his head back at the room] But
we've got to keep one or two o' these 'ere under glawss, to show our
future generytions. An' this one is 'armless. His pipes is sahnd,
'is 'eart is good; 'is 'ead is not strong. Is 'ouse will myke a
charmin' palace o' varieties where our children can come an' see 'ow
they did it in the good old dyes. Yer never see rich waxworks as 'is
butler and 'is four conscientious khaki footmen. Why--wot dyer think
'e 'as 'em for--fear they might be out o'-works like you an' me.
Nao! Keep this one; 'e's a Flower. 'Arf a mo'! I'll show yer my
Muvver. Come 'ere, old lydy; and bring yer trahsers. [MRS. LEMMY
comes forward to the window] Tell abaht yer speech to the meetin'.
MRS. LEMMY. [Bridling] Oh dear! Well, I cam' in with me trousers,
an' they putt me up on the pedestory at once, so I tole 'em.
[Holding up the trousers] "I putt in the button'oles, I stretches
the flies; I lines the crutch; I putt on this bindin', I presses the
seams--Tuppence three farthin's a pair."
[A groan from tote crowd, ]
LEMMY. [Showing her off] Seventy-seven! Wot's 'er income? Twelve
bob a week; seven from the Gover'ment an' five from the sweat of 'er
brow. Look at 'er! 'Yn't she a tight old dear to keep it goin'! No
workus for 'er, nao fear! The gryve rather!
[Murmurs from the crowd, at Whom MRS. LEMMY is blandly smiling.]
You cawn't git below 'er--impossible! She's the foundytions of the
country--an' rocky 'yn't the word for 'em. Worked 'ard all 'er life,
brought up a family and buried 'em on it. Twelve bob a week, an'
given when 'er fingers goes, which is very near. Well, naow, this
torf 'ere comes to me an' says: "I'd like to do somefin' for yer
muvver. 'Ow's ten bob a week?" 'e says. Naobody arst 'im--quite on
'is own. That's the sort 'e is. [Sinking his voice confidentially]
Sorft. You bring yer muvvers 'ere, 'e'll do the syme for them. I
giv yer the 'int.
VOICE. [From the crowd] What's 'is nyme?
LEMMY. They calls 'im Bill.
VOICE. Bill What?
L. ANNE. Dromondy.
LADY W. Anne!
LEMMY. Dromedary 'is nyme is.
VOICE. [From the crowd] Three cheers for Bill Dromedary.
LEMMY. I sy, there's veal an' 'am, an' pork wine at the back for
them as wants it; I 'eard the word passed. An' look 'ere, if yer
want a flag for the revolution, tyke muvver's trahsers an' tie 'em to
the corfin. Yer cawn't 'ave no more inspirin' banner. Ketch! [He
throws the trousers out] Give Bill a double-barrel fast, to show
there's no ill-feelin'. Ip, 'ip!
[The crowd cheers, then slowly passes away, singing at a hoarse
version of the Marseillaise, till all that is heard is a faint
murmuring and a distant barrel-organ playing the same tune.]
PRESS. [Writing] "And far up in the clear summer air the larks were
singing."
LORD W. [Passing his heard over his hair, and blinking his eyes]
James! Ready?
JAMES. Me Lord!
L. ANNE. Daddy!
LADY W. [Taking his arm] Bill! It's all right, old man--all right!
LORD W. [Blinking] Those infernal larks! Thought we were on the
Somme again! Ah! Mr. Lemmy, [Still rather dreamy] no end obliged
to you; you're so decent. Now, why did you want to blow us up before
dinner?
LEMMY. Blow yer up? [Passing his hand over his hair in travesty]
"Is it a dream? Then wykin' would be pyne."
MRS. LEMMY. Bo-ob! Not so saucy, my boy!
LEMMY. Blow yet up? Wot abaht it?
LADY W. [Indicating the bomb] This, Mr. Lemmy!
[LEMMY looks at it, and his eyes roll and goggle.]
LORD W. Come, all's forgiven! But why did you?
LEMMY. Orl right! I'm goin' to tyke it awy; it'd a-been a bit
ork'ard for me. I'll want it to-mower.
LORD W. What! To leave somewhere else?
LEMMY. 'Yus, of course!
LORD W. No, no; dash it! Tell us what's it filled with?
LEMMY. Filled wiv? Nuffin'. Wot did yet expect? Toof-pahder?
It's got a bit o' my lead soldered on to it. That's why it's 'eavy!
LORD W. But what is it?
LEMMY. Wot is it? [His eyes are fearfully fixed on LADY WILLIAM] I
fought everybody knew 'em.
LADY W. Mr. Lemmy, you must clear this up, please.
LEMMY. [TO LORD WILLIAM, With his eyes still held On LADY WILLIAM--
mysteriously] Wiv lydies present? 'Adn't I better tell the Press?
LORD W. All right; tell someone--anyone!
[LEMMY goes down to THE PRESS, who is reading over his last
note. Everyone watches and listens with the utmost discretion,
while he whispers into the ear of THE PRESS; who shakes his head
violently.]
PRESS. No, no; it's too horrible. It destroys my whole----
LEMMY. Well, I tell yer it is.
[Whispers again violently.]
PRESS. No, no; I can't have it. All my article! All my article!
It can't be--no----
LEMMY. I never see sick an obstinate thick-head! Yer 'yn't worvy of
yet tryde.
[He whispers still more violently and makes cabalistic signs.]
[LADY WILLIAM lifts the bomb from the cooler into the sight of
all. LORD WILLIAM, seeing it for the first time in full light,
bends double in silent laughter, and whispers to his wife. LADY
WILLIAM drops the bomb and gives way too. Hearing the sound,
LEMMY turns, and his goggling eyes pan them all in review. LORD
and LADY WILLIAM in fits of laughter, LITTLE ANNE stamping her
feet, for MISS STOKES, red, but composed, has her hands placed
firmly over her pupil's eyes and ears; LITTLE AIDA smiling
brilliantly, MRS. LEMMY blandly in sympathy, neither knowing
why; the FOUR FOOTMAN in a row, smothering little explosions.
POULDER, extremely grave and red, THE PRESS perfectly haggard,
gnawing at his nails.]
LEMMY. [Turning to THE PRESS] Blimy! It amooses 'em, all but the
genteel ones. Cheer oh! Press! Yer can always myke somefin' out o'
nufun'? It's not the fust thing as 'as existed in yer imaginytion
only.
PRESS. No, d---it; I'll keep it a bomb!
LEMMY. [Soothingly] Ah! Keep the sensytion. Wot's the troof
compared wiv that? Come on, Muvver! Come on, Little Aida! Time we
was goin' dahn to 'Earf.
[He goes up to the table, and still skidding a little at LADY
WILLIAM, takes the late bomb from the cooler, placing it under
his arm.]
MRS. LEMMY. Gude naight, sir; gude naight, ma'am; thank yu for my
cup o' tea, an' all yore kindness.
[She shakes hands with LORD and LADY WILLIAM, drops the curtsey
of her youth before Mr. POULDER, and goes out followed by LITTLE
AIDA, who is looking back at LITTLE ANNE.]
LEMMY. [Turning suddenly] Aoh! An' jist one frog! Next time yer
build an 'ouse, daon't forget--it's the foundytions as bears the
wyte.
[With a wink that gives way, to a last fascinated look at LADY
WILLIAM, he passes out. All gaze after them, except THE PRESS,
who is tragically consulting his spiflicated notes.]
L. ANNE. [Breaking away from Miss STOKES and rushing forward] Oh!
Mum! what was it?
CURTAIN
THE SKIN GAME
(A TRAGI-COMEDY)
"Who touches pitch shall be defiled"
CHARACTERS
HILLCRIST ...............A Country Gentleman
AMY .....................His Wife
JILL ....................His Daughter
DAWKER ..................His Agent
HORNBLOWER ..............A Man Newly-Rich
CHARLES .................His Elder Son
CHLOE ...................Wife to Charles
ROLF ....................His Younger Son
FELLOWS .................Hillcrist's Butler
ANNA ....................Chloe's Maid
THE JACKMANS ............Man and Wife
AN AUCTIONEER
A SOLICITOR
TWO STRANGERS
ACT I. HILLCRIST'S Study
ACT II.
SCENE I. A month later. An Auction Room.
SCENE II. The same evening. CHLOE'S Boudoir.
ACT III
SCENE I. The following day. HILLCRIST'S Study. Morning.
SCENE II. The Same. Evening.
ACT I
HILLCRIST'S study. A pleasant room, with books in calf
bindings, and signs that the HILLCRIST'S have travelled, such
as a large photograph of the Taj Mahal, of Table Mountain, and
the Pyramids of Egypt. A large bureau [stage Right], devoted
to the business of a country estate. Two foxes' masks.
Flowers in bowls. Deep armchairs. A large French window open
[at Back], with a lovely view of a slight rise of fields and
trees in August sunlight. A fine stone fireplace [stage Left].
A door [Left]. A door opposite [Right]. General colour
effect--stone, and cigar-leaf brown, with spots of bright
colour.
[HILLCRIST sits in a swivel chair at the bureau, busy with
papers. He has gout, and his left foot is encased accord: He
is a thin, dried-up man of about fifty-five, with a rather
refined, rather kindly, and rather cranky countenance. Close
to him stands his very upstanding nineteen-year-old daughter
JILL, with clubbed hair round a pretty, manly face.]
JILL. You know, Dodo, it's all pretty good rot in these days.
HILLCRIST. Cads are cads, Jill, even in these days.
JILL. What is a cad?
HILLCRIST. A self-assertive fellow, without a sense of other
people.
JILL. Well, Old Hornblower I'll give you.
HILLCRIST. I wouldn't take him.
JILL. Well, you've got him. Now, Charlie--Chearlie--I say--the
importance of not being Charlie----
HILLCRIST. Good heavens! do you know their Christian names?
JILL. My dear father, they've been here seven years.
HILLCRIST. In old days we only knew their Christian names from
their tombstones.
JILL. Charlie Hornblower isn't really half a bad sport.
HILLCRIST. About a quarter of a bad sport I've always thought out
hunting.
JILL. [Pulling his hair] Now, his wife--Chloe---
HILLCRIST. [Whimsical] Gad! your mother'd have a fit if she knew
you called her Chloe.
JILL. It's a ripping name.
HILLCRIST. Chloe! H'm! I had a spaniel once----
JILL. Dodo, you're narrow. Buck up, old darling, it won't do.
Chloe has seen life, I'm pretty sure; THAT'S attractive, anyway.
No, mother's not in the room; don't turn your uneasy eyes.
HILLCRIST. Really, my dear, you are getting----
JILL. The limit. Now, Rolf----
HILLCRIST. What's Rolf? Another dog?
JILL. Rolf Hornblower's a topper; he really is a nice boy.
HILLCRIST. [With a sharp look] Oh! He's a nice boy?
JILL. Yes, darling. You know what a nice boy is, don't you?
HILLCRIST. Not in these days.
JILL. Well, I'll tell you. In the first place, he's not amorous.
HILLCRIST. What! Well, that's some comfort.
JILL. Just a jolly good companion.
HILLCRIST. To whom?
JILL. Well, to anyone--me.
HILLCRIST. Where?
JILL. Anywhere. You don't suppose I confine myself to the home
paddocks, do you? I'm naturally rangey, Father.
HILLCRIST. [Ironically] You don't say so!
JILL. In the second place, he doesn't like discipline.
HILLCRIST. Jupiter! He does seem attractive.
JILL. In the third place, he bars his father.
HILLCRIST. Is that essential to nice girls too?
JILL. [With a twirl of his hair] Fish not! Fourthly, he's got
ideas.
HILLCRIST. I knew it!
JILL. For instance, he thinks--as I do----
HILLCRIST. Ah! Good ideas.
JILL. [Pulling gently] Careful! He thinks old people run the show
too much. He says they oughtn't to, because they're so damtouchy.
Are you damtouchy, darling?
HILLCRIST. Well, I'm----! I don't know about touchy.
JILL. He says there'll be no world fit to live in till we get rid
of the old. We must make them climb a tall tree, and shake them off
it.
HILLCRIST. [Drily] Oh! he says that!
JILL. Otherwise, with the way they stand on each other's rights,
they'll spoil the garden for the young.
HILLCRIST. Does his father agree?
JILL. Oh! Rolf doesn't talk to him, his mouth's too large. Have
you ever seen it, Dodo?
HILLCRIST. Of course.
JILL. It's considerable, isn't it? Now yours is--reticent,
darling. [Rumpling his hair.]
HILLCRIST. It won't be in a minute. Do you realise that I've got
gout?
JILL. Poor ducky! How long have we been here, Dodo?
HILLCRIST. Since Elizabeth, anyway.
JILL. [Looking at his foot] It has its drawbacks. D'you think
Hornblower had a father? I believe he was spontaneous. But, Dodo,
why all this--this attitude to the Hornblowers?
[She purses her lips and makes a gesture as of pushing persons
away.]
HILLCRIST. Because they're pushing.
JILL. That's only because we are, as mother would say, and they're
not--yet. But why not let them be?
HILLCRIST. You can't.
JILL. Why?
HILLCRIST. It takes generations to learn to live and let live,
Jill. People like that take an ell when you give them an inch.
JILL. But if you gave them the ell, they wouldn't want the inch.
Why should it all be such a skin game?
HILLCRIST. Skin game? Where do you get your lingo?
JILL. Keep to the point, Dodo.
HILLCRIST. Well, Jill, all life's a struggle between people at
different stages of development, in different positions, with
different amounts of social influence and property. And the only
thing is to have rules of the game and keep them. New people like
the Hornblowers haven't learnt those rules; their only rule is to
get all they can.
JILL. Darling, don't prose. They're not half as bad as you think.
HILLCRIST. Well, when I sold Hornblower Longmeadow and the
cottages, I certainly found him all right. All the same, he's got
the cloven hoof. [Warming up] His influence in Deepwater is
thoroughly bad; those potteries of his are demoralising--the whole
atmosphere of the place is changing. It was a thousand pities he
ever came here and discovered that clay. He's brought in the modern
cutthroat spirit.
JILL. Cut our throat spirit, you mean. What's your definition of a
gentleman, Dodo?
HILLCRIST. [Uneasily] Can't describe--only feel it.
JILL. Oh! Try!
HILLCRIST. Well--er--I suppose you might say--a man who keeps his
form and doesn't let life scupper him out of his standards.
JILL. But suppose his standards are low?
HILLCRIST. [With some earnestness] I assume, of course, that he's
honest and tolerant, gentle to the weak, and not self-seeking.
JILL. Ah! self-seeking? But aren't we all, Dodo? I am.
HILLCRIST. [With a smile] You!
JILL. [Scornfully] Oh! yes--too young to know.
HILLCRIST. Nobody knows till they're under pretty heavy fire, Jill.
JILL. Except, of course, mother.
HILLCRIST. How do you mean--mother?
JILL. Mother reminds me of England according to herself--always
right whatever she does.
HILLCRIST. Ye-es. Your mother it perhaps--the perfect woman.
JILL. That's what I was saying. Now, no one could call you
perfect, Dodo. Besides, you've got gout.
HILLCRIST. Yes; and I want Fellows. Ring that bell.
JILL. [Crossing to the bell] Shall I tell you my definition of a
gentleman? A man who gives the Hornblower his due. [She rings the
bell] And I think mother ought to call on them. Rolf says old
Hornblower resents it fearfully that she's never made a sign to
Chloe the three years she's been here.
HILLCRIST. I don't interfere with your mother in such matters. She
may go and call on the devil himself if she likes.
JILL. I know you're ever so much better than she is.
HILLCRIST. That's respectful.
JILL. You do keep your prejudices out of your phiz. But mother
literally looks down her nose. And she never forgives an "h."
They'd get the "hell" from her if they took the "hinch."
HILLCRIST. Jill-your language!
JILL. Don't slime out of it, Dodo. I say, mother ought to call on
the Hornblowers. [No answer.] Well?
HILLCRIST. My dear, I always let people have the last word. It
makes them--feel funny. Ugh! My foot![Enter FELLOWS, Left.]
Fellows, send into the village and get another bottle of this stuff.
JILL. I'll go, darling.
[She blow him a kiss, and goes out at the window.]
HILLCRIST. And tell cook I've got to go on slops. This foot's
worse.
FELLOWS. [Sympathetic] Indeed, sir.
HILLCRIST. My third go this year, Fellows.
FELLOWS. Very annoying, sir.
HILLCRIST. Ye-es. Ever had it?
FELLOWS. I fancy I have had a twinge, sir.
HILLCRIST. [Brightening] Have you? Where?
FELLOWS. In my cork wrist, sir.
HILLCRIST. Your what?
FELLOWS. The wrist I draw corks with.
HILLCRIST. [With a cackle] You'd have had more than a twinge if
you'd lived with my father. H'm!
FELLOWS. Excuse me, sir--Vichy water corks, in my experience, are
worse than any wine.
HILLCRIST. [Ironically] Ah! The country's not what it was, is it,
Fellows?
FELLOWS. Getting very new, sir.
HILLCRIST. [Feelingly] You're right. Has Dawker come?
FELLOWS. Not yet, sir. The Jackmans would like to see you, sir.
HILLCRIST. What about?
FELLOWS. I don't know, sir.
HILLCRIST. Well, show them in.
FELLOWS. [Going] Yes, sir.
[HILLCRIST turns his swivel chair round. The JACKMANS come in.
He, a big fellow about fifty, in a labourer's dress, with eyes
which have more in then than his tongue can express; she, a
little woman with a worn face, a bright, quick glance, and a
tongue to match.]
HILLCRIST. Good morning, Mrs. Jackman! Morning, Jackman! Haven't
seen you for a long time. What can I do?
[He draws in foot, and breath, with a sharp hiss.]
HILLCRIST. [In a down-hearted voice] We've had notice to quit,
sir.
HILLCRIST. [With emphasis] What!
JACKMAN. Got to be out this week.
MRS. J. Yes, sir, indeed.
HILLCRIST. Well, but when I sold Longmeadow and the cottages, it
was on the express understanding that there was to be no disturbance
of tenancies:
MRS. J. Yes, sir; but we've all got to go. Mrs. 'Arvey, and the
Drews, an' us, and there isn't another cottage to be had anywhere in
Deepwater.
HILLCRIST. I know; I want one for my cowman. This won't do at all.
Where do you get it from?
JACKMAN. Mr. 'Ornblower, 'imself, air. Just an hour ago. He come
round and said: "I'm sorry; I want the cottages, and you've got to
clear."
MRS. J. [Bitterly] He's no gentleman, sir; he put it so brisk. We
been there thirty years, and now we don't know what to do. So I
hope you'll excuse us coming round, sir.
HILLCRIST. I should think so, indeed! H'm! [He rises and limps
across to the fireplace on his stick. To himself] The cloven hoof.
By George! this is a breach of faith. I'll write to him, Jackman.
Confound it! I'd certainly never have sold if I'd known he was
going to do this.
MRS. J. No, sir, I'm sure, sir. They do say it's to do with the
potteries. He wants the cottages for his workmen.
HILLCRIST. [Sharply] That's all very well, but he shouldn't have
led me to suppose that he would make no change.
JACKMAN. [Heavily] They talk about his havin' bought the Centry to
gut up more chimneys there, and that's why he wants the cottages.
HINT. The Centry! Impossible!
[Mrs. J. Yes, air; it's such a pretty spot-looks beautiful
from here. [She looks out through the window] Loveliest spot
in all Deepwater, I always say. And your father owned it, and
his father before 'im. It's a pity they ever sold it, sir,
beggin' your pardon.]
HILLCRIST. The Centry! [He rings the bell.]
Mrs. J. [Who has brightened up] I'm glad you're goin' to stop it,
sir. It does put us about. We don't know where to go. I said to
Mr. Hornblower, I said, "I'm sure Mr. Hillcrist would never 'eve
turned us out." An' 'e said: "Mr. Hillcrist be----" beggin' your
pardon, sir. "Make no mistake," 'e said, "you must go, missis." He
don't even know our name; an' to come it like this over us! He's a
dreadful new man, I think, with his overridin notions. And sich a
heavyfooted man, to look at. [With a sort of indulgent contempt]
But he's from the North, they say.
[FELLOWS has entered, Left.]
HILLCRIST. Ask Mrs. Hillcrist if she'll come.
FELLOWS. Very good, sir.
HILLCRIST. Is Dawker here?
FELLOWS. Not yet, sir.
HILLCRIST. I want to see him at once.
[FELLOWS retires.]
JACKMAN. Mr. Hornblower said he was comin' on to see you, sir. So
we thought we'd step along first.
HILLCRIST. Quite right, Jackman.
MRS. J. I said to Jackman: "Mr. Hillcrist'll stand up for us, I
know. He's a gentleman," I said. "This man," I said, "don't care
for the neighbourhood, or the people; he don't care for anything so
long as he makes his money, and has his importance. You can't
expect it, I suppose," I said; [Bitterly] "havin' got rich so
sudden." The gentry don't do things like that.
HILLCRIST. [Abstracted] Quite, Mrs. Jackman, quite!
[To himself] The Centry! No!
[MRS. HILLCRIST enters. A well-dressed woman, with a firm,
clear-cut face.]
Oh! Amy! Mr. and Mrs. Jackman turned out of their cottage, and
Mrs. Harvey, and the Drews. When I sold to Hornblower, I stipulated
that they shouldn't be.
MRS. J. Our week's up on Saturday, ma'am, and I'm sure I don't know
where we shall turn, because of course Jackman must be near his
work, and I shall lose me washin' if we have to go far.
HILLCRIST. [With decision] You leave it to me, Mrs. Jackman. Good
morning! Morning, Jackman! Sorry I can't move with this gout.
MRS. J. [For them both] I'm sure we're very sorry, sir. Good
morning, sir. Good morning, ma'am; and thank you kindly. [They go
out.]
HILLCRIST. Turning people out that have been there thirty years. I
won't have it. It's a breach of faith.
MRS. H. Do you suppose this Hornblower will care two straws about
that Jack?
HILLCRIST. He must, when it's put to him, if he's got any decent
feeling.
MRS. H. He hasn't.
HILLCRIST. [Suddenly] The Jackmans talk of his having bought the
Centry to put up more chimneys.
MRS. H. Never! [At the window, looking out] Impossible! It would
ruin the place utterly; besides cutting us off from the Duke's. Oh,
no! Miss Mullins would never sell behind our backs.
HILLCRIST. Anyway I must stop his turning these people out.
Mrs. H. [With a little smile, almost contemptuous] You might have
known he'd do something of the sort. You will imagine people are
like yourself, Jack. You always ought to make Dawker have things in
black and white.
HILLCRIST. I said quite distinctly: "Of course you won't want to
disturb the tenancies; there's a great shortage of cottages."
Hornblower told me as distinctly that he wouldn't. What more do you
want?
Mrs. H. A man like that thinks of nothing but the short cut to his
own way. [Looking out of the window towards the rise] If he buys
the Centry and puts up chimneys, we simply couldn't stop here.
HILLCRIST. My father would turn in his grave.
MRS. H. It would have been more useful if he'd not dipped the
estate, and sold the Centry. This Hornblower hates us; he thinks we
turn up our noses at him.
HILLCRIST. As we do, Amy.
MRS. H. Who wouldn't? A man without traditions, who believes in
nothing but money and push.
HILLCRIST. Suppose he won't budge, can we do anything for the
Jackmans?
MRS. H. There are the two rooms Beaver used to have, over the
stables.
FELLOWS. Mr. Dawker, sir.
[DAWKERS is a short, square, rather red-faced terrier of a man,
in riding clothes and gaiters.]
HILLCRIST. Ah! Dawker, I've got gout again.
DAWKER. Very sorry, sir. How de do, ma'am?
HILLCRIST. Did you meet the Jackmans?
DAWKERS. Yeh.
[He hardly ever quite finishes a word, seeming to snap of their
tails.]
HILLCRIST. Then you heard?
DAWKER. [Nodding] Smart man, Hornblower; never lets grass grow.
HILLCRIST. Smart?
DAWKER. [Grinning] Don't do to underrate your neighbours.
MRS. H. A cad--I call him.
DAWKER. That's it, ma'am-got all the advantage.
HILLCRIST. Heard anything about the Centry, Dawker?
DAWKER. Hornblower wants to buy.
HILLCRIST. Miss Mullins would never sell, would she?
DAWKER. She wants to.
HILLCRIST. The deuce she does!
DAWKER. He won't stick at the price either.
MRS. H. What's it worth, Dawker?
DAWKER. Depends on what you want it for.
MRS. H. He wants it for spite; we want it for sentiment.
DAWKER. [Grinning] Worth what you like to give, then; but he's a
rich man.
MRS. H. Intolerable!
DAWKER. [To HILLCRIST] Give me your figure, sir. I'll try the old
lady before he gets at her.
HILLCRIST. [Pondering] I don't want to buy, unless there's nothing
else for it. I should have to raise the money on the estate; it
won't stand much more. I can't believe the fellow would be such a
barbarian. Chimneys within three hundred yards, right in front of
this house! It's a nightmare.
MRS. H. You'd much better let Dawker make sure, Jack.
HILLCRIST. [Uncomfortable] Jackman says Hornblower's coming round
to see me. I shall put it to him.
DAWKER. Make him keener than ever. Better get in first.
HILLCRIST. Ape his methods!--Ugh! Confound this gout! [He gets
back to his chair with difficulty] Look here, Dawker, I wanted to
see you about gates----
FELLOWS. [Entering] Mr. Hornblower.
[HORNBLOWER enters-a man of medium, height, thoroughly
broadened, blown out, as it were, by success. He has thick,
coarse, dark hair, just grizzled, wry bushy eyebrow, a wide
mouth. He wears quite ordinary clothes, as if that department
were in charge of someone who knew about such, things. He has
a small rose in his buttonhole, and carries a Homburg hat,
which one suspects will look too small on his head.]
HORNBLOWER. Good morning! good morning! How are ye, Dawker? Fine
morning! Lovely weather!
[His voice has a curious blend in its tone of brass and oil,
and an accent not quite Scotch nor quite North country.]
Haven't seen ye for a long time, Hillcrist.
HILLCRIST. [Who has risen] Not since I sold you Longmeadow and
those cottages, I believe.
HORNBLOWER. Dear me, now! that's what I came about.
HILLCRIST. [Subsiding again into his chair] Forgive me! Won't you
sit down?
HORNBLOWER. [Not sitting] Have ye got gout? That's unfortunate.
I never get it. I've no disposition that way. Had no ancestors,
you see. Just me own drinkin' to answer for.
HILLCRIST. You're lucky.
HORNBLOWER. I wonder if Mrs. Hillcrist thinks that! Am I lucky to
have no past, ma'am? Just the future?
MRS. H. You're sure you have the future, Mr. Hornblower?
HORNBLOWER. [With a laugh] That's your aristocratic rapier thrust.
You aristocrats are very hard people underneath your manners. Ye
love to lay a body out. But I've got the future all right.
HILLCRIST. [Meaningly] I've had the Dackmans here, Mr. Hornblower.
HORNBLOWER. Who are they--man with the little spitfire wife?
HILLCRIST. They're very excellent, good people, and they've been in
that cottage quietly thirty years.
HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his forefinger--a favourite gesture] Ah!
ye've wanted me to stir ye up a bit. Deepwater needs a bit o' go
put into it. There's generally some go where I am. I daresay you
wish there'd been no "come." [He laughs].
MRS. H. We certainly like people to keep their word, Mr.
Hornblower.
HILLCRIST. Amy!
HORNBLOWER. Never mind, Hillcrist; takes more than that to upset
me.
[MRS. HILLCRIST exchanges a look with DAWKER who slips out
unobserved.]
HILLCRIST. You promised me, you know, not to change the tenancies.
HORNBLOWER. Well, I've come to tell ye that I have. I wasn't
expecting to have the need when I bought. Thought the Duke would
sell me a bit down there; but devil a bit he will; and now I must
have those cottages for my workmen. I've got important works, ye
know.
HILLCRIST. [Getting heated] The Jackmans have their importance
too, sir. Their heart's in that cottage.
HORNBLOWER. Have a sense of proportion, man. My works supply
thousands of people, and my heart's in them. What's more, they
make my fortune. I've got ambitions--I'm a serious man. Suppose I
were to consider this and that, and every little potty objection--
where should I get to?--nowhere!
HILLCRIST. All the same, this sort of thing isn't done, you know.
HORNBLOWER. Not by you because ye've got no need to do it. Here ye
are, quite content on what your fathers made for ye. Ye've no
ambitions; and ye want other people to have none. How d'ye think
your fathers got your land?
HILLCRIST. [Who has risen] Not by breaking their word.
HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his, finger] Don't ye believe it. They
got it by breaking their word and turnin' out Jackmans, if that's
their name, all over the place.
MRS. H. That's an insult, Mr. Hornblower.
HORNBLOWER. No; it's a repartee. If ye think so much of these
Jackmans, build them a cottage yourselves; ye've got the space.
HILLCRIST. That's beside the point. You promised me, and I sold on
that understanding.
HORNBLOWER. And I bought on the understandin' that I'd get some
more land from the Duke.
HILLCRIST. That's nothing to do with me.
HORNBLOWER. Ye'll find it has; because I'm going to have those
cottages.
HILLCRIST. Well, I call it simply----
[He checks himself.]
HORNBLOWER. Look here, Hillcrist, ye've not had occasion to
understand men like me. I've got the guts, and I've got the money;
and I don't sit still on it. I'm going ahead because I believe in
meself. I've no use for sentiment and that sort of thing. Forty of
your Jackmans aren't worth me little finger.
HILLCRIST. [Angry] Of all the blatant things I ever heard said!
HORNBLOWER. Well, as we're speaking plainly, I've been thinkin'.
Ye want the village run your oldfashioned way, and I want it run
mine. I fancy there's not room for the two of us here.
MRS. H. When are you going?
HORNBLOWER. Never fear, I'm not going.
HILLCRIST. Look here, Mr. Hornblower--this infernal gout makes me
irritable--puts me at a disadvantage. But I should be glad if you'd
kindly explain yourself.
HORNBLOWER. [With a great smile] Ca' canny; I'm fra' the North.
HILLCRIST. I'm told you wish to buy the Centry and put more of your
chimneys up there, regardless of the fact [He Points through the
window] that it would utterly ruin the house we've had for
generations, and all our pleasure here.
HORNBLOWER. How the man talks! Why! Ye'd think he owned the sky,
because his fathers built him a house with a pretty view, where he's
nothing to do but live. It's sheer want of something to do that
gives ye your fine sentiments, Hillcrist.
HILLCRIST. Have the goodness not to charge me with idleness.
Dawker--where is he?----[He shows the bureau] When you do the
drudgery of your works as thoroughly as I do that of my estate----
Is it true about the Centry?
HORNBLOWER. Gospel true. If ye want to know, my son Chearlie is
buyin' it this very minute.
MRS. H. [Turning with a start] What do you say?
HORNBLOWER. Ay, he's with the old lady she wants to sell, an'
she'll get her price, whatever it is.
HILLCRIST. [With deep anger] If that isn't a skin game, Mr.
Hornblower, I don't know what is.
HORNBLOWER. Ah! Ye've got a very nice expression there. "Skin
game!" Well, bad words break no bones, an' they're wonderful for
hardenin' the heart. If it wasn't for a lady's presence, I could
give ye a specimen or two.
MRS. H. Oh! Mr. Hornblower, that need not stop you, I'm sure.
HORNBLOWER. Well, and I don't know that it need. Ye're an
obstruction--the like of you--ye're in my path. And anyone in my
path doesn't stay there long; or, if he does, he stays there on my
terms. And my terms are chimneys in the Centry where I need 'em.
It'll do ye a power of good, too, to know that ye're not almighty.
HILLCRIST. And that's being neighbourly!
HORNBLOWER. And how have ye tried bein' neighbourly to me? If I
haven't a wife, I've got a daughter-in-law. Have Ye celled on her,
ma'am? I'm new, and ye're an old family. Ye don't like me, ye
think I'm a pushin' man. I go to chapel, an' ye don't like that.
I make things and I sell them, and ye don't like that. I buy land,
and ye don't like that. It threatens the view from your windies.
Well, I don't lie you, and I'm not goin' to put up with your
attitude. Ye've had things your own way too long, and now ye're not
going to have them any longer.
HILLCRIST. Will you hold to your word over those cottages?
HORNBLOWER. I'm goin' to have the cottages. I need them, and more
besides, now I'm to put up me new works.
HILLCRIST. That's a declaration of war.
HORNBLOWER. Ye never said a truer word. It's one or the other of
us, and I rather think it's goin' to be me. I'm the risin' and
you're the settin' sun, as the poet says.
HILLCRIST. [Touching the bell] We shall see if you can ride
rough-shod like this. We used to have decent ways of going about
things here. You want to change all that. Well, we shall do our
damnedest to stop you. [To FELLOWS at the door] Are the Jackmans
still in the house? Ask them to be good enough to come in.
HORNBLOWER. [With the first sign of uneasiness] I've seen these
people. I've nothing more to say to them. I told 'em I'd give 'em
five pounds to cover their moving.
HILLCRIST. It doesn't occur to you that people, however humble,
like to have some say in their own fate?
HORNBLOWER. I never had any say in mine till I had the brass, and
nobody ever will. It's all hypocrisy. You county folk are fair
awful hypocrites. Ye talk about good form and all that sort o'
thing. It's just the comfortable doctrine of the man in the saddle;
sentimental varnish. Ye're every bit as hard as I am, underneath.
MRS. H. [Who had been standing very still all this time] You
flatter us.
HORNBLOWER. Not at all. God helps those who 'elp themselves--
that's at the bottom of all religion. I'm goin' to help meself, and
God's going to help me.
MRS. H. I admire your knowledge.
HILLCRIST. We are in the right, and God helps----
HORNBLOWER. Don't ye believe it; ye 'aven't got the energy.
MRS. H. Nor perhaps the conceit.
HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his forefinger] No, no; 'tisn't conceit
to believe in yourself when ye've got reason to. [The JACKMAN'S
have entered.]
HILLCRIST. I'm very sorry, Mrs. Jackman, but I just wanted you to
realise that I've done my best with this gentleman.
MRS. J. [Doubtfully] Yes, sir. I thought if you spoke for us,
he'd feel different-like.
HORNBLOWER. One cottage is the same as another, missis. I made ye
a fair offer of five pounds for the moving.
JACKMAN. [Slowly] We wouldn't take fifty to go out of that 'ouse.
We brought up three children there, an' buried two from it.
MRS. J. [To MRS. HILLCRIST] We're attached to it like, ma'am.
HILLCRIST. [To HORNBLOWER.] How would you like being turned out of
a place you were fond of?
HORNBLOWER. Not a bit. But little considerations have to give way
to big ones. Now, missis, I'll make it ten pounds, and I'll send a
wagon to shift your things. If that isn't fair--! Ye'd better
accept, I shan't keep it open.
[The JACKMANS look at each other; their faces show deep anger--
and the question they ask each other is which will speak.]
MRS. J. We won't take it; eh, George?
JACKMAN. Not a farden. We come there when we was married.
HORNBLOWER. [Throwing out his finger] Ye're very improvident folk.
HILLCRIST. Don't lecture them, Mr. Hornblower; they come out of
this miles above you.
HORNBLOWER. [Angry] Well, I was going to give ye another week, but
ye'll go out next Saturday; and take care ye're not late, or your
things'll be put out in the rain.
MRS. H. [To MRS. JACKMAN] We'll send down for your things, and you
can come to us for the time being.
[MRS. JACKMAN drops a curtsey; her eyes stab HORNBLOWERS.]
JACKMAN. [Heavily, clenching his fists] You're no gentleman!
Don't put temptation in my way, that's all,
HILLCRIST. [In a low voice] Jackman!
HORNBLOWER. [Triumphantly] Ye hear that? That's your protegee!
Keep out o' my way, me man, or I'll put the police on to ye for
utterin' threats.
HILLCRIST. You'd better go now, Jackman.
[The JACKMANS move to the door.]
MRS. J. [Turning] Maybe you'll repent it some day, sir.
[They go out, MRS. HILLCRIST following.]
HORNBLOWER. We-ell, I'm sorry they're such unreasonable folk. I
never met people with less notion of which side their bread was
buttered.
HILLCRIST. And I never met anyone so pachydermatous.
HORNBLOWER. What's that, in Heaven's name? Ye needn' wrap it up in
long words now your good lady's gone.
HILLCRIST. [With dignity] I'm not going in for a slanging match.
I resent your conduct much too deeply.
HORNBLOWER. Look here, Hillcrist, I don't object to you personally;
ye seem to me a poor creature that's bound to get left with your
gout and your dignity; but of course ye can make yourself very
disagreeable before ye're done. Now I want to be the movin' spirit
here. I'm full of plans. I'm goin' to stand for Parliament; I'm
goin' to make this a prosperous place. I'm a good-matured man if
you'll treat me as such. Now, you take me on as a neighbour and all
that, and I'll manage without chimneys on the Centry. Is it a
bargain? [He holds out his hand.]
HILLCRIST. [Ignoring it] I thought you said you didn't keep your
word when it suited you to break it?
HORNBLOWER. Now, don't get on the high horse. You and me could be
very good friends; but I can be a very nasty enemy. The chimneys
will not look nice from that windie, ye know.
HILLCRIST. [Deeply angry] Mr. Hornblower, if you think I'll take
your hand after this Jackman business, you're greatly mistaken. You
are proposing that I shall stand in with you while you tyrannise
over the neighbourhood. Please realise that unless you leave those
tenancies undisturbed as you said you would, we don't know each
other.
HORNBLOWER. Well, that won't trouble me much. Now, ye'd better
think it over; ye've got gout and that makes ye hasty. I tell ye
again: I'm not the man to make an enemy of. Unless ye're friendly,
sure as I stand here I'll ruin the look of your place.
[The toot of a car is heard.]
There's my car. I sent Chearlie and his wife in it to buy the
Centry. And make no mistake--he's got it in his packet. It's your
last chance, Hillcrist. I'm not averse to you as a man; I think
ye're the best of the fossils round here; at least, I think ye can
do me the most harm socially. Come now!
[He holds out his hand again.]
HILLCRIST. Not if you'd bought the Centry ten times over. Your
ways are not mine, and I'll have nothing to do with you.
HORNBLOWER. [Very angry] Really! Is that so? Very well. Now
ye're goin' to learn something, an' it's time ye did. D'ye realise
that I'm 'very nearly round ye? [He draws a circle slowly in the
air] I'm at Uphill, the works are here, here's Longmeadow, here's
the Centry that I've just bought, there's only the Common left to
give ye touch with the world. Now between you and the Common
there's the high road.
I come out on the high road here to your north, and I shall come out
on it there to your west. When I've got me new works up on the
Centry, I shall be makin' a trolley track between the works up to
the road at both ends, so any goods will be running right round ye.
How'll ye like that for a country place?
[For answer HILLCRIST, who is angry beyond the power of speech,
walks, forgetting to use his stick, up to the French window.
While he stands there, with his back to HORNBLOWER, the door L.
is flung open, and Jim enters, preceding CHARLES, his wife
CHLOE, and ROLF. CHARLES is a goodish-looking, moustached
young man of about twenty-eight, with a white rim to the collar
of his waistcoat, and spats. He has his hand behind CHLOE'S
back, as if to prevent her turning tail. She is rather a
handsome young woman, with dark eyes, full red lips, and a
suspicion of powder, a little under-dressed for the country.
ROLF, mho brings up the rear, is about twenty, with an open
face and stiffish butter-coloured hair. JILL runs over to her
father at the window. She has a bottle.]
JILL. [Sotto voce] Look, Dodo, I've brought the lot! Isn't it a
treat, dear Papa? And here's the stuff. Hallo!
[The exclamation is induced by the apprehension that there has
been a row. HILLCRIST gives a stiff little bow, remaining
where he is in the window. JILL, stays close to him, staring
from one to the other, then blocks him off and engages him in
conversation. CHARLES has gone up to his father, who has
remained maliciously still, where he delivered his last speech.
CHLOE and ROLF stand awkwardly waiting between the fireplace
and the door.]
HORNBLOWER. Well, Chearlie?
CHARLES. Not got it.
HORNBLOWER. Not!
CHARLES. I'd practically got her to say she'd sell at three
thousand five hundred, when that fellow Dawker turned up.
HORNBLOWER. That bull-terrier of a chap! Why, he was here a while
ago. Oh--ho! So that's it!
CHARLES. I heard him gallop up. He came straight for the old lady,
and got her away. What he said I don't know; but she came back
looking wiser than an owl; said she'd think it over, thought she had
other views.
HORNBLOWER. Did ye tell her she might have her price?
CHARLES. Practically I did.
HORNBLOWER. Well?
CHARLES. She thought it would be fairer to put it up to auction.
There were other enquiries. Oh! She's a leery old bird--reminds me
of one of those pictures of Fate, don't you know.
HORNBLOWER. Auction! Well, if it's not gone we'll get it yet.
That damned little Dawker! I've had a row with Hillcrist.
CHARLES. I thought so.
[They are turning cautiously to look at HILLCRIST, when JILL
steps forward.]
JILL. [Flushed and determined] That's not a bit sporting of you,
Mr. Hornblower.
[At her words ROLE comes forward too.]
HORNBLOWER. Ye should hear both sides before ye say that, missy.
JILL. There isn't another side to turning out the Jackmans after
you'd promised.
HORNBLOWER. Oh! dear me, yes. They don't matter a row of
gingerbread to the schemes I've got for betterin' this neighbourhood.
JILL. I had been standing up for you; now I won't.
HOUNBLOWER. Dear, dear! What'll become of me?
JILL. I won't say anything about the other thing because I think
it's beneath, dignity to notice it. But to turn poor people out of
their cottages is a shame.
HORNBLOWER. Hoity me!
ROLF. [Suddenly] You haven't been doing that, father?
CHARLES. Shut up, Rolf!
HORNBLOWER. [Turning on ROLF] Ha! Here's a league o' Youth! My
young whipper-snapper, keep your mouth shut and leave it to your
elders to know what's right.
[Under the weight of this rejoinder ROLF stands biting his
lips. Then he throws his head up.]
ROLF. I hate it!
HORNBLOWER. [With real venom] Oh! Ye hate it? Ye can get out of
my house, then.
JILL. Free speech, Mr. Hornblower; don't be violent.
HORNBLOWER. Ye're right, young lady. Ye can stay in my house,
Rolf, and learn manners. Come, Chearlie!
JILL. [Quite softly] Mr. Hornblower!
HILLCRIST. [From the window] Jill!
JILL. [Impatiently] Well, what's the good of it? Life's too short
for rows, and too jolly!
ROLF. Bravo!
HORNBLOWER. [Who has shown a sign of weakening] Now, look here!
I will not have revolt in my family. Ye'll just have to learn that
a man who's worked as I have, who's risen as I have, and who knows
the world, is the proper judge of what's right and wrong. I'll
answer to God for me actions, and not to you young people.
JILL. Poor God!
HORNBLOWER. [Genuinely shocked] Ye blasphemous young thing! [To
ROLF] And ye're just as bad, ye young freethinker. I won't have
it.
HILLCRIST. [Who has come down, Right] Jill, I wish you would
kindly not talk.
JILL. I can't help it.
CHARLES. [Putting his arm through HORNBLOWER'S] Come along,
father! Deeds, not words.
HORNBLOWER. Ay! Deeds!
[MRS. HILLCRIST and DAWKERS have entered by the French window.]
MRS. H. Quite right!
[They all turn and look at her.]
HORNBLOWER. Ah! So ye put your dog on to it. [He throws out his
finger at DAWKERS] Very smart, that--I give ye credit.
MRS. H. [Pointing to CHLOE, who has stood by herself, forgotten and
uncomfortable throughout the scene]
May I ask who this lady is?
[CHLOE turns round startled, and her vanity bag slips down her
dress to the floor.]
HORNBLOWER. No, ma'am, ye may not, for ye know perfectly well.
JILL. I brought her in, mother [She moves to CHLOE's side.]
MRS. H. Will you take her out again, then.
HILLCRIST. Amy, have the goodness to remember----
MRS. H. That this is my house so far as ladies are concerned.
JILL. Mother!
[She looks astonished at CHLOE, who, about to speak, does not,
passing her eyes, with a queer, half-scarred expression, from
MRS. HILLCRIST to DAWKER.]
[To CHLOE] I'm awfully sorry. Come on!
[They go out, Left. ROLF hurries after them.]
CHARLES. You've insulted my wife. Why? What do you mean by it?
[MRS. HILLCRIST simply smiles.]
HILLCRIST. I apologise. I regret extremely. There is no reason
why the ladies of your family or of mine should be involved in our
quarrel. For Heaven's sake, let's fight like gentlemen.
HORNBLOWER. Catchwords--sneers! No; we'll play what ye call a skin
game, Hillcrist, without gloves on; we won't spare each other. Ye
look out for yourselves, for, begod, after this morning I mean
business. And as for you, Dawker, ye sly dog, ye think yourself
very clever; but I'll have the Centry yet. Come, Chearlie!
[They go out, passing JILL, who is coming in again, in the
doorway.]
HILLCRIST. Well, Dawker?
DAWKER. [Grinning] Safe for the moment. The old lady'll put it up
to auction. Couldn't get her to budge from that. Says she don't
want to be unneighbourly to either. But, if you ask me, it's money
she smells!
JILL. [Advancing] Now, mother
MRS. H. Well?
JILL. Why did you insult her?
MRS. H. I think I only asked you to take her out.
JILL. Why? Even if she is Old Combustion's daughter-in-law?
MRS. H. My dear Jill, allow me to judge the sort of acquaintances I
wish to make. [She looks at DAWKER.]
JILL. She's all right. Lots of women powder and touch up their
lips nowadays. I think she's rather a good sort; she was awfully
upset.
MRS. H. Too upset.
JILL. Oh! don't be so mysterious, mother. If you know something,
do spit it out!
MRS. H. Do you wish me to--er--"spit it out," Jack?
HILLCRIST. Dawker, if you don't mind----
[DAWKER, with a nod, passes away out of the French window.]
Jill, be respectful, and don't talk like a bargee.
JILL. It's no good, Dodo. It made me ashamed. It's just as--as
caddish to insult people who haven't said a word, in your own house,
as it is to be--old Hornblower.
MRS. H. You don't know what you're talking about.
HILLCRIST. What's the matter with young Mrs. Hornblower?
MRS. H. Excuse me, I shall keep my thoughts to myself at present.
[She looks coldly at JILL, and goes out through the French
window.]
HILLCRIST. You've thoroughly upset your mother, Jill.
JILL. It's something Dawker's told her; I saw them. I don't like
Dawker, father, he's so common.
HILLCRIST. My dear, we can't all be uncommon. He's got lots of go,
You must apologise to your mother.
JILL. [Shaking-her clubbed hair] They'll make you do things you
don't approve of, Dodo, if you don't look out. Mother's fearfully
bitter when she gets her knife in. If old Hornblower's disgusting,
it's no reason we should be.
HILLCRIST. So you think I'm capable--that's nice, Jill!
JILL. No, no, darling! I only want to warn you solemnly that
mother'll tell you you're fighting fair, no matter what she and
Dawker do.
HILLCRIST. [Smiling] Jill, I don't think I ever saw you so
serious.
JILL. No. Because--[She swallows a lump in her throat] Well--I
was just beginning to enjoy, myself; and now--everything's going to
be bitter and beastly, with mother in that mood. That horrible old
man! Oh, Dodo! Don't let them make you horrid! You're such a
darling. How's your gout, ducky?
HILLCRIST. Better; lot better.
JILL. There, you see! That shows! It's going to be half-interesting
for you, but not for--us.
HILLCRIST. Look here, Jill--is there anything between you and young
what's-his-name--Rolf?
JILL. [Biting her lip] No. But--now it's all spoiled.
HILLCRIST. You can't expect me to regret that.
JILL. I don't mean any tosh about love's young dream; but I do like
being friends. I want to enjoy things, Dodo, and you can't do that
when everybody's on the hate. You're going to wallow in it, and so
shall I--oh! I know I shall!--we shall all wallow, and think of
nothing but "one for his nob."
HILLCRIST. Aren't you fond of your home?
JILL. Of course. I love it.
HILLCRIST. Well, you won't be able to live in it unless we stop
that ruffian. Chimneys and smoke, the trees cut down, piles of
pots. Every kind of abomination. There! [He points] Imagine!
[He points through the French window, as if he could see those
chimneys rising and marring the beauty of the fields] I was born
here, and my father, and his, and his, and his. They loved those
fields, and those old trees. And this barbarian, with his
"improvement" schemes, forsooth! I learned to ride in the Centry
meadows--prettiest spring meadows in the world; I've climbed every
tree there. Why my father ever sold----! But who could have
imagined this? And come at a bad moment, when money's scarce.
JILL. [Cuddling his arm] Dodo!
HILLCRIST. Yes. But you don't love the place as I do, Jill. You
youngsters don't love anything, I sometimes think.
JILL. I do, Dodo, I do!
HILLCRIST. You've got it all before you. But you may live your
life and never find anything so good and so beautiful as this old
home. I'm not going to have it spoiled without a fight.
[Conscious of batting betrayed Sentiment, he walks out at the
French window, passing away to the right. JILL following to
the window, looks. Then throwing back her head, she clasps her
hands behind it.]
JILL. Oh--oh-oh!
[A voice behind her says, "JILL!" She turns and starts back,
leaning against the right lintel of the window. ROLF appears
outside the window from Left.]
Who goes there?
ROLE. [Buttressed against the Left lintel] Enemy--after Chloe's
bag.
JILL. Pass, enemy! And all's ill!
[ROLF passes through the window, and retrieves the vanity bag
from the floor where CHLOE dropped it, then again takes his
stand against the Left lintel of the French window.]
ROLF. It's not going to make any difference, is it?
JILL. You know it is.
ROLF. Sins of the fathers.
JILL. Unto the third and fourth generations. What sin has my
father committed?
ROLF. None, in a way; only, I've often told you I don't see why you
should treat us as outsiders. We don't like it.
JILL. Well, you shouldn't be, then; I mean, he shouldn't be.
ROLF. Father's just as human as your father; he's wrapped up in us,
and all his "getting on" is for us. Would you like to be treated as
your mother treated Chloe? Your mother's set the stroke for the
other big-wigs about here; nobody calls on Chloe. And why not? Why
not? I think it's contemptible to bar people just because they're
new, as you call it, and have to make their position instead of
having it left them.
JILL. It's not because they're new, it's because--if your father
behaved like a gentleman, he'd be treated like one.
ROLF. Would he? I don't believe it. My father's a very able man;
he thinks he's entitled to have influence here. Well, everybody
tries to keep him down. Oh! yes, they do. That makes him mad and
more determined than ever to get his way. You ought to be just,
Jill.
JILL. I am just.
ROLF. No, you're not. Besides, what's it got to do with Charlie
and Chloe? Chloe's particularly harmless. It's pretty sickening
for her. Father didn't expect people to call until Charlie married,
but since----
JILL. I think it's all very petty.
ROLF. It is--a dog-in-the-manger business; I did think you were
above it.
JILL. How would you like to have your home spoiled?
ROLE. I'm not going to argue. Only things don't stand still.
Homes aren't any more proof against change than anything else.
JILL. All right! You come and try and take ours.
ROLF. We don't want to take your home.
JILL. Like the Jackmans'?
ROLF. All right. I see you're hopelessly prejudiced.
[He turns to go.]
JILL. [Just as he is vanishing--softly] Enemy?
ROLF. [Turning] Yes, enemy.