DEALING IN FUTURES
A Play In Three Acts
By Harold Brighouse
New York: Samuel French Publisher
1913
[Illustration: 0005]
DEALING IN FUTURES
A PLAY IN THREE ACTS
CHARACTERS
Jabez Thompson....................A Chemical Manufacturer.
Rosie Thompson....................His Daughter.
John Bunting......................A Master Dyer.
Charlie Bunting...................His Son.
Walter Clavering..................A Young Doctor.
The Scene is laid in an outlying Lancashire village and the action of
the play takes place within a space of twenty-six hours.
ACT I
_The dining-room of Jabez Thompson's; the room is luxuriously furnished
and combines comfort with ostentation; the door is left, and at the back
a large doorway curtained off leads to the billiard-room. (A plan of
this and the other scenes in the play will be found at the end of the
book.) The table is littered with the debris of dinner, and at it sit
Jabez Thompson (l.), and Rosie his daughter (l.), facing each other.
Jabez is elderly, corpulent, bearded, of florid face and general
prosperous appearance; he wears a frock coat, light grey trousers, and
has a heavy gold watch chain. He speaks with all the assertiveness of
life-long success._
Rosie _is dark and highly coloured, her face strong rather than
beautiful. She dresses with taste, avoiding her fathers scarcely veiled
vulgarity, and wears a high dress of some amber material. She inherits
her father's strength of will, and though outwardly cultured, has not
been able to subdue entirely a naturally violent temper. Her voice is
a little shrill and shrewish, and Jabez is obviously rather afraid of
her._
Mallinson, _the butler, enters with coffee, which he places on the table
by Rosie. Rosie pours coffee. Butler puts cup by Jabez._
*****
Butler. Mr. Lomax, from the works, has arrived, sir.
Jabez. Very well, put him in the library. I'll be there in a moment to
sign the letters.
Butler. Yes, sir.
Jabez. Oh, give him this and tell him to look through it. (_Gives folded
paper from his pocket._)
Butler. Yes, sir. (_Takes paper and exit._)
Jabez (_Sips coffee, lights cigar, and turns chair to face audience_).
By the way, Rosie, I asked Charlie to come round after dinner and to
bring his father.
Rosie (_Interested_). Oh! Why?
Jabez. I'm not satisfied with him. I want to have a chat with the pair
of them to see if we can't get things on a better basis.
Rosie. What's the matter with Charlie?
Jabez. Oh, you wouldn't understand. It's a business question.
Rosie. I see. You'd rather I wasn't here?
Jabez. Yes. If you don't mind. We can't do better than stick to the rule
even where Charlie's concerned, eh?
Rosie. Oh, I shan't intrude on a business talk.
Jabez. Thanks, my dear, thanks. (_Encouraged to go on._) Do you know,
Rosie, I'm not a bit happy over this engagement of yours to Charlie.
Rosie (_Curtly_). Why?
Jabez (_Apologetically_). He's a queer fellow. I can't size him up. I
can't think why on earth you got engaged to him.
Rosie. That's my business, isn't it?
Jabez Yes, my dear. I suppose it is. But that doesn't stop me from
wishing you'd taken a fancy to some one else.
Rosie. I've told you before I won't have you interfering in my affairs,
father. I'm quite capable of managing them myself.
Jabez (_Meekly_). I try not to, my dear. I do try not to. Only this
matter--it's not as if you had a mother, is it now?
Rosie. Oh, you can trust me to judge whether a man comes because he
wants me or whether he's only a vulgar fortune-hunter. Whatever Charlie
is or isn't, he's not after my money.
Jabez. No, Charlie never is after money. You're easily the better
business man. He's always got his head full of ideas about pampering the
men instead of thinking of the welfare of the firm.
Rosie (_Snappishly_). You needn't think you can get me to break it off,
so don't try. You can say what you like to him so long as you remember
I'm going to marry him.
Jabez. Well, well, I must see what I can make of Charlie. (_Drinks._)
I'll tell you one thing, my dear, you're a good deal more eager about it
than he is.
Rosie. Possibly. You needn't worry about that.
Jabez. But I do worry, my dear. How can I help it? (_Rosie moves
impatiently._) Now don't fly in a temper. He _is_ taking his time in
coming up to scratch. Let me ask you one thing?
Rosie. Yes?
Jabez. When are you going to be married?
Rosie. I really don't know.
Jabez. No, and it's time you did. You've been engaged long enough.
Rosie. Is that what you are going to talk to him about to-night?
Jabez. Amongst other things. I'm tired of his playing about with the
thing. If your mind's made up, what's there to wait for? People are
beginning to talk.
Rosie. Let them.
Jabez. That's all very well, but people in our position must consider
public opinion. You don't object to my settling it, do you?
Rosie. Oh, do what you want. But don't you dare to bully Charlie. I
won't have him bullied.
Jabez. Oh, I shan't hurt him. A good talking to _'_ull do him no harm.
(_Enter Butler, l._)
Butler (_At door l._). Dr. Clavering has called, sir. Wishes to speak to
you.
Jabez (_Surprised_) Clavering? Well, show him up.
Butler. Yes, sir.
(_Exit Butler._)
Jabez. What's the matter with Clavering? He doesn't often condescend
to leave his precious research work in the evenings. (_Rosie shrugs her
shoulders contemptuously. Enter Butler._)
Butler (_Announcing_). Dr. Clavering.
(_Enter Clavering. Exit Butler. Clavering is a young doctor with keen
clever face, clean-shaven, with a general air of self-reliance. He is a
practical man of a fairs whose business happens to be doctoring._)
Clavering. Good evening, Mr. Thompson.
Jabez (_Rising_). Good evening, Dr. Clavering. (_They shake hands, and
Jabez, turning his chair sits sideways to the table._)
Clav. Good evening, Miss Thompson. (_Rosie murmurs and bows coldly._)
Jabez. Well, what can I do for you, doctor? Sit down.
Clav. (_Sits on sofa l._) The fact is--it's rather a liberty--I hope
you won't mind.
Jabez. Out with it man! What's to do?
Clav. I've come to see you about one of your men--a fellow named Alcott.
Jabez (_Reflectively_). Alcott? Alcott?
Clav. You don't just call him to mind?
Jabez. No, but I will.
Clav. That won't matter. It's just----
Jabez (_rising_). But it does matter; if I talk about a man I like
to know who I'm talking about. I shan't be a moment. My record book's
handy.
Clav. Record book? You keep it here?
Jabez. Yes; I've every man's record in that book. I don't risk leaving
a thing like that at the works, safe or no safe. (_Crossing and reaching
door l._) I'll go and look the name up. Lomax is here too with the
letters for signing, but that won't detain me long. (_Exit taking hunch
of keys from his trousers' pocket._)
Clav. Miss Thompson, I'm glad your father's gone. It gives me an
opportunity----
Rosie (_Eagerly_). Yes? Any illness amongst the men, doctor?
Clav. Only this Alcott. I'll discuss that with Mr. Thompson. Don't let's
waste time now. (_Rises and moves to back of table._) I hoped so much to
see you alone. I never get a chance.
Rosie. There's always the telephone.
Clav. I can't see your face through the telephone, and it's always
about others. What a great heart you have, Miss Thompson! (_Sits above
table._)
Rosie. I? Oh, one does what one can.
Clav. For others.
Rosie. Others?
Clav. Yes; for me it's the telephone--always the telephone. So and so's
ill--a name passes, an address, and we ring off. I never get the chance
of seeing you alone.
Rosie. Doctors are such busy people, aren't they?
Clav. Not too busy to be human, to desire to see in the flesh the woman
one's always communicating with through a cold-blooded telephone. We're
allies, you know, Miss Thompson, fellow-conspirators, aren't we? That
makes a bond between us.
Rosie (_Conventionally_). It's very good of you to let me know so
promptly when any of the men fall ill and to keep it a secret between
us--even from Charlie.
Clav. (_Contemptuously_). Oh, Charlie!
Rosie (_Quickly_). He doesn't know, of course?
Clav. No, he knows nothing.
Rosie. I was just afraid. You're such close friends, and this book
you've been writing must have brought you closer together. I thought you
might have let it slip out.
Clav. Oh, no. I kept the bond.
Rosie. I can never thank you sufficiently.
Clav. You could if you would.
Rosie. How? Tell me.
Clav. As you said, I'm a busy man, but I'm not too busy to use my
eyes. A man can't join hands with a good woman in the great work of
alleviating suffering without conceiving an admiration for her, without
longing--
Rosie (_Coldly_). Need we waste time in compliments, Dr. Clavering? My
father may be back at any moment, and if you've, anything to say to me,
won't you come to the point?
Clav. I want to know if I may hope for a reward.
Rosie. Surely a doctor doesn't ask reward for helping to do good.
Clav. Virtue its own reward? Come, Miss Thompson, isn't that one of the
maxims all of us apply to others rather than to ourselves?
Rosie (_Rising_). If you want to be paid for your services to me,
doctor, perhaps you will send in an account.
Clav. You're misunderstanding wilfully. (_Rising._) Can't we be frank
with one another, we coworkers in the same field? Must you wear before
me the mask you put on to suit your father?
Rosie. I wear a mask to suit my father? I think you're labouring under
some mistake.
Clav. Then the reward I aim at is---- Oh, don't you see?
Rosie. I hope I don't. (_Crossing to door R. at back._) I think we'd
both better forget this conversation, Dr. Clavering.
Clav. (_Following_). You shan't put me off. I----
(_Enter Jabez with a small red bound book, keeping a place in it with
his finger. Clavering leaves Rosie promptly and stands above table._)
Jabez. I'm primed now, doctor. (_He sits and puts the book open on the
table._) There's not much worth knowing about my men that this friend
can't tell me (_Tapping the book_). But it doesn't tell me much good
about Mr. Alcott (_Emphasizing the "Mr." sarcastically_).
Clav. Sorry to hear that. Poor chap, he's in a bad way. (_Rosie looks
interested._) eh?
Jabez. Oh, you've been to see him professionally,
Clav. I don't go to see Brixham's Buildings, they come to me. Surgery
hours are just over.
Rosie (_Softly, sitting at writing-table r., taking a piece of note
paper and writing_). Brixham's Buildings.
Jabez. Well?
CLAV. (_Sitting above table with elbows on it and fingertips at chin_).
The work doesn't suit him. What that fellow needs is a good dose of
fresh air. When I told him so, he said he'd lose his job if he asked off
for a month. I've come to see if something cant be arranged for him, Mr.
Tompson.
Jabez (_Coldly_). In what way?
Clav. Couldn't you give him sick leave for a month or so?
Jabez. What's the matter with him?
Clav. (_Glancing at Rosie as if for a sign of approval_). Oh my cases
here are all the same. I know them off by heart. Dyspepsia and faintness
to begin with and paralysis to follow. I could give that man no advice
except to clear out of this. He told me he'd got to live.
Jabez (_Whose signs of irritation have increased_).
Rosie, do you mind leaving me to settle this with the doctor? It's a
works question, you know.
Rosie (_Rising with the note doubled in her hand_) Yes.
Clav. (_Protestingly_). Oh, but----
Rosie. Don't get up, Dr. Clavering. (_Clavering rises and holds back
curtain at door r.c._)
(_Exit Rosie, r.c. Clavering returns to table._)
Jabez. The fat's in the fire this time.
Clav. I beg your pardon.
Jabez. I thought you'd more sense than to come-here with a tale of this
sort. These things upset a woman. I do all I can to keep them from her,
and here you spin this yarn before I've time to stop you. You should
have come to me at the office.
Clav. (_Apologetically, sitting again above table_). I rather hoped Miss
Thompson might have put in a word for me.
Jabez (_Brusquely_). Nonsense. You know very well that I don't allow my
daughter to interfere with business. I'd as soon start messing with her
housekeeping. That's a woman's place if you like--the home. We'd to
make a rule of it, years ago, Rosie and I. She got asking fool questions
about things she didn't understand and worrying me silly till we both
agreed it was best for her to steer clear of the works. We've each our
place now. I've the works and she's the home. You've made a bad mistake,
sir.
Clav. I'm sorry. I do hope you'll not let this prejudice Alcott's
chances of a month off.
Jabez. I shouldn't dream of doing such a thing. A month off for a
labourer! It's absurd.
Clav. (_Seriously_). I can't answer for the man's life if you don't, Mr.
Thompson.
Jabez. My dear sir, you're looking at the individual case. I can't do
that. I've to see all my men at once and I know what they are. Give
these fellows an inch and they take an ell. I can't make an exception
for Alcott. I'd have to do the same for every man who fell sick and for
Heaven knows how many malingerers as well; once I began that sort of
thing, I'd never know when I'd end. Clav. Then you won't----
Jabez (_Interrupting_). It's not that I won't, I can't, and there's an
end of it.
(_Enter Butler, l._)
Butler. Mr. Bunting.
(_Enter John Bunting. John bears some outward signs of similarity to
Jabez. Like Jabez, he is elderly and corpulent. But, though hardly less
assertive in tone at first, there is an underlying furtiveness, and
he is extremely deferential to Jabez even while assuming an equal
camaraderie with him. He wears a frock coat and has evidently modelled
himself on Jabez. Clavering rises and goes r.c._)
Jabez (_Patronizingly_). Oh, good evening, John. (_Jabez does not
rise._)
John. Good evening. (_Crossing r._) Good evening, Dr. Clavering.
(_Clavering bows--the Butler remains._)
Jabez. What's the matter, Mallinson?
Butler (_Very importantly_). Dr. Clavering's housekeeper, sir, have
telephoned from his surgery as he's wanted.
Clav. (_Briskly_). Oh, I'll come at once. Excuse me, won't you?
(_Crossing to door l._)
Butler (_Raising his hand. Clavering stops astonished_). It's at the
works you're wanted, sir. An accident, I believe.
Clav. The works! (_To Jabez._) Shall you come? Jabez. I? Certainly not.
You're the man they want, not I. Sit down, John. (_Jabez moves John to
the chair Rosie had occupied at table r. John sits._)
Clav. Oh, all right. I'll report later.
Jabez. You needn't trouble. Bad news travels fast enough. Good night.
Clav. (_Shortly_). Good night.
(_Exit Clavering, l., followed by Butler._)
Jabez. That young man's growing officious. A whisky, John. (_Pours._)
Have a cigar?
John. Thanks. Yours are too good to refuse. Jabez. Where's Charlie?
Isn't he with you? John. No. He's not been home to dinner. Still at the
works I suppose.
Jabez. Yes. (_Pause._) I always did say a good cigar was the best part
of a dinner.
John. You're right there. When all's said and done, Jabez a good liver's
got a lot to do with happiness. Thank goodness, mine doesn't trouble me.
Jabez. Nor mine. I've no patience with these modern fads--mustn't eat
this and that and all that kind of rubbish. If I fancied a thing I
had it, and damn the expense. Look at me to-day, sir. (_Smacking his
chest._) Sound, sir, sound as a bell.
John (_Playing up to him_). We've lived, Jabez, there's no doubt about
it. We've gone the pace in our time.
Jabez (_Fiercely, as if contradicted_). And why not? You tell me that.
Give me a good time, I say. That's my motto, and by Heaven I've lived up
to it.
John (_Admiringly_). You always were a warm man.
Jabez. Warm? I believe you. Damme, sir, if I had my time over again
I'd do the same. I wish I had, too. I'd show the young 'uns a thing or
three, eh, John? They think they're pretty wide awake, but I'll gamble
we old cocks could give them a long start and win hands down. Eh, well,
what's the good of wishes? (_Pours himself some whisky soda._)
John. Yes we've got to face it, old man. You and I have come to the time
of life when a man makes his will and begins to think a bit about who's
going to step into his shoes when he's done with them.
Jabez. That's the very thing I want to talk to you about. What I always
say is if you've got a bit of business to do with a man, let him come
and talk things over with you in your own house. Many's the deal I've
made that way in my time. Get a man feeling at home with himself, with
some good wine inside him and a good cigar in his lips, and you can have
your own way with him. Not that I mean that personally, John. (_John
waves deprecatingly._)
Jabez. Only as a general thing.
John. Of course. To be sure.
Jabez. Yes. We've got to think of the young _'_uns. Rosie, now. Rosie's
a good girl--been well brought up. No expense spared--same as if she'd
been a bov.
John. You've done well by her, if she did disappoint you by being a girl
instead of a boy.
Jabez. Aye, aye. That's an old sore now. And If I haven't a boy, John,
you have.
John (_Shifting uneasily_). Yes, yes, I know I have.
Jabez. Well?
John. Well, what?
Jabez. Look here, John, it's no good beating about the bush. We know
each other by this time, and you're not the man to take offence at a bit
of straight talk. That lad of yours wants speaking to, and damme, you're
the man to do it.
John. What's the'matter _with_ him?
Jabez. Nothing except that he's a fool. (_John leaps up._)
John. I say----
Jabez (_interrupting_). Now sit down, John. (_John sits._) Here's a lad
I took a fancy to when he was a youngster. I take him to the works
and give him every chance. It's understood he's to have Rosie and the
business, too, when I've done with it. Here's Rosie sick for love of
him. And what's he doing? Shillyshallying round and can't be got to name
the day. That's not all, either, but it'ull do to go on with. What do
you make of it, John? What's the matter with him?
John. The boy's sound enough at bottom. Give him time to come round.
It's not the thing nowadays to get married as young as it was in our
day. And Charlie's in love with his work.
Jabez. I know he is, the young fool.
John. Come, steady on, Jabez.
Jabez. Oh, well--Yes, all right, John. But what sort of work is it?
Laboratory experiments!
John. Yes, and jolly useful they are, too. You're bound to have a
chemist. Give the devil his due, Jabez, Charlie's discoveries have been
the making of the business.
Jabez. They've had their uses.
John. I should think they have. Why, man, you simply ran the place for a
couple of years on that cheap fast red of his.
Jabez. Hang it all, experimenting's all right, but a fellow needs a
business head as well; what's the good of his finding new processes if
he can't exploit _'_em?
John. _You_ exploit them.
Jabez. I know I do. But I shan't be here for ever. Charlie _'_ud be a
catspaw in the hands of a smart business man. He's the sort of fool
a clever fellow likes to get hold of. I want him to help me in the
management, in selling the stuff and handling the men, and I can't get
him to stir a finger. What's the use of a man like that at the head of a
business concern?
John (_gruffly_). Then don't put him there.
Jabez (_irritated--rising and pacing about_). By God, I will, though.
(_Turning abruptly to John._) Why? (_l.c._) I'll tell you why, John.
Nothing queers a man for business like the knowledge that thing's aren't
right at home, and that girl of mine's fretting (_u.l._). I tell you
I'm not very particular who she marries so long as I know she's married
happily, but she's set her heart on Charlie, so Charlie it must be, and
I'm damned if I'll have him putting her off any longer. It's upsetting
Rosie and it's upsetting me. That's why I want Charlie to be a man
instead of a skulking chemist. (_Pause--dropping down l._) The fellow
wants some backbone, John. Managing a works isn't all plain sailing
to-day, same as it was when the men knew their places. It wants a strong
hand and a quick brain to see how to give _'_em the little things that
don't matter and to keep from them the big things that do. I'm getting
old, John. I'd like a rest. You'll speak to him, now, won't you?
(_Sits l. of table._)
John. Very well. I'll do my best.
Jabez. Just make him see which side his bread's buttered. He's too
clever by half. I can't make him out sometimes. He's got notions in his
head about coddling the men and giving them better wages before they
ask for them, as if it wasn't enough to have the Factory Acts and the
Government Inspectors poking their noses round. Dangerous trades! It was
good enough for their fathers, and, by God! it _'_ull have to be good
enough for them. I don't run my place for charity, and the sooner they
get that into their thick heads the better. (_Irritably._) Where the
devil _is_ Charlie?
John. He said he'd come on here from the works if he wasn't home to
dinner.
Jabez. Then why isn't he here?
John. Experimenting again, I suppose.
Jabez. Hang his experiments!
(_Enter l. Charlie Bunting greatly excited. He has the face of a
visionary and his high forehead contrasts with a weak, receding chin; he
has convictions and ideals, but it is doubtful if he has the courage to
live up to them._)
Jabez. Oh, there you are, sir. About time, too. (_Seeing Charlie's
agitation._) Hello, what's wrong with you?
Charlie. There's been an accident. (_He gasps._) Jabez. Fatal?
Charlie. Yes.
Jabez. Curse their carelessness. (_Irritably._) Another inquest, of
course, and headlines in the papers and questions from the Coroner. What
is it this time? Another, drunken fool walked into the vitriol tanks?
Charlie (_bitterly_). Oh, no, this needn't trouble you. We don't often
kill men suddenly. We poison them by gradual degrees.
Jabez. What was it? Am I ever going to know?
Charlie. The lift gave way.
Jabez. The lift? Oh, we're not responsible for that. It was inspected
only last week. We hold a certificate of efficiency.
Charlie. Oh, yes, it was examined right enough. Only the men tell me the
inspector was drunk when he came.
Jabez. They can't prove it.
Charlie. Not they. You needn't worry. They'll not have the pluck to
repeat it in court. (_Up stage L._)
Jabez. Certainly not; a coroner's court isn't the place for
irresponsible gossip of that kind.
Charlie (_down to sofa_). No, the verdict will be accidental death right
enough, with polite expressions of sympathy and a rider exonerating us
from blame.
Jabez (_settling himself comfortably in his chair_). Of course. Very
proper, very proper. And we've the Insurance Company to fall back on. I
tell you what, Charlie, they'll be raising our premium if things go on
like this. Two fatal accidents in a mouth. I suppose there's a widow.
There usually is.
Charlie. Yes. There's a widow and six children. (_Going up l._)
Jabez. (_Turning to John_) I don't know how it is, but it always is the
married men who get killed. (_To Charlie._) Well, I don't see what there
is to make all this fuss about, Charlie. Accidents will happen. Upon my
word, you quite frightened me for a moment. Ring the bell and have some
dinner.
Charlie (_shuddering_). I can't eat. I've just seen a man killed. Oh,
it's horrible, horrible. (_Sits on sofa l., burying head in hands._)
Jabez. Nonsense, man. Pull yourself together. It's deplorable, of
course--a most distressing occurrence--but no reason for going without
your dinner. What did I tell you, John? Charlie's too soft for this
world.
Charlie (_raising head_). Don't you understand? I saw the lift crash
down. I was there when they got out the poor, broken, mangled body from
amongst the blood-stained splinters. I saw----
Jabez. Excuse me, Charlie, but I've just had my dinner. Kindly have the
delicacy not to enter into, details.
Charlie. Very well. I--oh, I think I'll go home. Good night. (_Going._)
John. Wait a moment, Charlie. (_Charlie's hand is on the door-knob L._)
We were just speaking about you. Hadn't we better thrash this matter out
now, Jabez?
Jabez (_grimly_). I'm agreeable if Charlie is.
John. Sit down, Charlie. (_Charlie sits meanly on sofa._)
Charlie. What is it?
John. Well, it's like this. Jabez tells me he considers you're wasting
your time. He doesn t call you lazy--not exactly lazy, do you, Jabez?
He wants you to widen your interests and broaden your ideas. That's it,
isn't it?
Charlie (_to Jabez_). Oh, that's it, is it?
Jabez. It's one way of putting it. I don't know whether it's laziness or
what it is, but you certainly fight shy of a bit of honest work.
Charlie (_leaping up fierily_). Work? What else do I do from early
morning when I enter the laboratory till late at night when I leave it?
Jabez (_smoothly_). Quietly, quietly. Yes, that's all very well, but
that's not what I call work. Charlie. What do you call it then?
Jabez. It's not work to you. You like doing it. Charlie. I loathe it
from the bottom of my Soul.
Jabez. Then why do it?
Charlie. Well, as you put me into the works you ought to be able to
answer that better than I can. I'd no taste for the work at all, but the
laboratory was the department I detested least. I suppose I naturally
drifted to it.
Jabez. Look here, my lad, I asked you a plain question, and I'll thank
you for a plain answer. Charlie. I thought I'd given you one.
Jabez. What made you choose the laboratory? Charlie. I thought I saw
some shadowy hope of doing good there.
Jabez. Well, you've done a bit. I'll give you credit for that.
Charlie. Not that kind of good. That was accidental. I only hit by
chance on the processes which happened to prove profitable to you.
Jabez. By chance? Then what the devil were you driving at with my time
and my chemicals?
Charlie. I hoped to find some means of accomplishing what we do here
by less dangerous methods to let a little health into the work. I saw
strong workmen brought to these works in the prime of life and health,
and in a few years turned away, broken, worn-out invalids. I worked to
find a way out.
Jabez (_contemptuously_). You fool.
Charlie. I quite agree. (_Rises and paces up and down._) Yes, fool,
fool, fool. Fool as much as if I'd sought the philosopher's stone or the
elixir of life. I did seek the elixir of life, and I will go on seeking
it--life for those helpless hundreds driven by the need to live to
certain death. Let me go on. Let me hope; but do not ask me to assist in
getting orders for our deadly production. Every contract you sign your
name to is the death-warrant of a workman. (_Sitting on arm of sofa._)
John (_imploringly_). Charlie!
Jabez. Have a little common sense, man. You're seeing things to-night.
This accident's got on your nerves. (_Rises._) After all, I think you
had better go home. We'll talk this over another time. I haven't lost
my temper yet and I don't want to. (_Putting his hand on Charlie's
shoulder._) Come now, admit that you're not quite yourself.
Charlie. You treat me like a child. Having been naughty, I'm sent to bed
to sleep oft my tantrums.
Jabez. And I'm the ogre in the fairy story who makes bread of people's
bones, eh, Charlie? Yes, you'll laugh at this to-morrow. Really, you've
been making an awful ass of yourself. You _'_ll see things in a better
perspective in the morning.
Charlie (_bitterly_). With myself as a respectable member of the
governing classes, I suppose, with nice clean hands and a dirty
conscience.
Jabez. For Heaven's sake, Charlie, drop that silly twaddle. We've had
enough of your platform manner for one night. You talk like a Hyde Park
orator, only they're paid to make fools of themselves and you're not.
Charlie. (_Pulling himself together_) No. Let's have this out. I didn't
begin it, but now we've gone so far I must know where we stand.
Jabez. You're not fit for it. But it's as you like. (_Sits l. of
table._)
Charlie. I do like. Now, Mr. Thompson, it's understood that I meant what
I said. You must let me continue my laboratory work. I still hope to
find less dangerous methods. I may also drop across a few more novelties
for you to exploit. But I definitely decline to have a hand in coercing
my fellow creatures to do the work as it is done at present, or in
procuring orders necessitating such work.
Jabez. But it is necessary work, Charlie. You must see that.
Charlie. No work involving risk of death and the certaintv of ill health
is necessary.
Jabez. Ours is. If the supply of our productions was cut short huge
industries would be automatically dislocated. How are people to run
their bleaching works and dye works if they can't get dye stuffs?
Charlie. Never mind. That wouldn't matter.
Jabez. Oh, the boy's mad. This is what comes of debating societies and
political meetings for infants. Look here, Charlie, it's one thing to
get on your legs and spout revolutionary rot to a roomful of fantastic
fools as hare-brained as yourself, but it's a very different pair of
steps to come here and ask me to take you seriously. If it wasn't for
Rosie, I'd take you at your word and send you packing. As it is, I'll
try something else first. John, this is your affair now. You've got to
bring this fellow to his senses. (_Rises and goes round table to John,
r._)
John. I'll try, Jabez, I'll try.
Jabez. (_Threateningly_) You'll succeed. (_Going up to door r.c._)
John (_Looking up at him_) What do you mean?
Jabez. You know as well as I do. I'm sorry, old man, but I've got to
put the screw on. You can't expect me to keep my patience for ever if he
won't hear reason. You can't blame me. I'll go and join Rosie while you
straighten things out a bit between you.
(_Exit through door centre. John sinks back into his seat and buries his
head in his hands on the table. Charlie goes behind table to him and
tries to raise him up._)
Charlie (_Softly_). Dad.
John (_slowly removing his hands from his face and raising his eyes to
Charlie_). You haven't called me that since you were a little boy.
Charlie. Dear old dad. I don't want to know what it is. Let him think
he's got hold of something. I don't care. .
John. But you must know. I'm absolutely in his power. He can ruin me if
he likes.
Charlie. How?
John. It's my dye works, Charlie. Jabez finances it. No one knows
it's not my own, but if he cut off supplies I'd have to close it down
to-morrow, and call my creditors together. I make a living out of it,
but the capital's all his. I couldn't meet a tenth of my liabilities
without his aid.
Charlie. Never mind, dad. (_Sits above table._) We'll fight it together,
shoulder to shoulder, you and I against the world. What does poverty
matter if we can be independent?
John (_terrified_). No, no. You can't mean that. You can't mean to bring
disgrace upon your father's grey hairs. Think of my position, Charlie--a
public man in my own way; not such a big pot as Jabez, but I have my
feelings just the same. The Black-more Dye Works is a small enough
concern compared with Jabez's Chemical Works, but it's meant the world
to me. Every one thinks the business is mine. What will people say when
they learn that I'm practically penniless?
Charlie. What does it matter what people say?
John (_ignoring him_). And Jabez is a man of his word. He means it. He's
never threatened to do this before.
Charlie. And what makes him do it now?
John. Oh, you must do what he wants, Charlie.
Charlie. But why does he want it? Why won't he see that I'm unfit for
the position he offers me? I can't and I won't fill it to his orders.
Oh, it's my own fault, I suppose. He's quite right. I'm soft--too soft
for this horrible, inhuman world. I yielded at first because I hoped to
do some good, and I've gone on yielding ever since. It seemed so easy to
acquiesce and to hope for the best. And this is where my cursed weakness
has landed me.
John. Yes. Jabez has us at his mercy.
Charlie. I'm as far as ever from seeing why he's doing it.
John. Oh, that's plain enough. He's a good sort, is Jabez.
Charlie (_staggered_). What!
John. Oh, yes, really a good sort, only he likes to play boss. That's
why he kept mum about my business--so that he could do as he liked with
me. And then Rosie took a fancy to you; so old Jabez steps in to play
providence to a pair of lovers. He's meant well all along.
Charlie. He's a sentimental ass. Curse his good intentions.
John. You may curse them, but you'll not alter them. Jabez will have his
way. Right or wrong, he will have his way, he always does. You may call
him obstinate, pig-headed, anything you like, but, mark my words, it's
no use fighting against him.
Charlie (_contemptuously_). You're frightened of him.
John (_with conviction_). Terribly.
Charlie. Well, I'm not.
John (_coming to him_). Charlie, you must give way. Remember me. Can't
you see that all these years have been hell upon earth to me? I've been
his slave, his dog, and all the time he professed friendship for me,
nay, he was my friend. He patted me with one hand, but the dog-whip was
in the other. You can't force him to speak now, Charlie. Oh, say you
can't.
Charlie. But--oh, I don't understand. If you had imagination enough to
see all this and to writhe under it, and strength enough to keep your
hands off him, couldn't you see there was a way out? Why couldn't you
leave him, leave this place, and make a fresh start somewhere else
without his cursed money?
John. I might have done that at first. But well--like father like son,
Charlie.
Charlie. What's that supposed to mean?
John. _You've_ acquiesced. _You've_ gone on hoping for the best. So did
I till the cords which held me were bound more closely, till I became
a man of substance here, looked up to by my neighbours. They made me
sidesman at the Church and then a magistrate. I loved these things,
Charlie, the little honours I had won. I clung to them. Your mother
died, and as you grew up and drifted from me full of ideas I could not
understand, I clung more closely to the little things life held for me.
Its all I have, Charlie. Don't take that away from me Charlie. Why
shouldn't people know it? There's no disgrace in having your business
financed by another man.
John. Well, if you must know, there's another reason.
Charlie (_suddenly alarmed_). It's a paying concern, isn't it?
John. Yes, but I can't prove it.
Charlie. Why not?
John. I've no figures to show. Any one I approached would want to see
accounts--audited accounts.
Charlie. Well, haven't you got them?
John. No. It was enough for Jabez to know that he got a good return on
his money. I've never had auditors in the place. Jabez never asked it.
Charlie. That doesn't justify your carrying on the thing in a slipshod
manner. It only shows how absolutely content you were to remain in
abject dependence on Thompson. Any tin-pot grocer keeps his books
properly and gets them audited.
John. Charlie, I'm your father.
Charlie. Oh, it's all right. I'm going to stick by you. I'm going to be
a pawn in Thompson's game. But I can't pretend that I can do it with a
good grace. Your point of view's all wrong. You've been sailing under
false colours all your life, and now I'm to cave in to Thompson so that
you can go on living a lie to the end, and a silly lie at that.
John (_with dignity_). Charlie, remember who you are speaking to.
Charlie. I do. I haven't the slightest hope of making you see it as
I do, but I can't go licking Thompson's boots on your behalf without
letting you know I'm not doing it for fun. And there's Rosie. I suppose
Rosie's included in the bargain.
John. You engaged yourself to her, didn't you?
Charlie. No. She did all the engaging there was about it. But it amounts
to the same thing. I shall have to go through with it.
John. Well, for the life of me I can't see what you have to complain of.
Rosie's a nice girl.
Charlie. That's no reason for marrying her. A man can't marry all the
nice girls he knows.
John. But you've always been fond of her, ever since you were children
together. You used to call her your little friend.
Charlie (_lightly_). Mere boy and girl flirtation.
John. It looked more serious than that.
Charlie (_Exasperated_). Serious? Of course it was serious. What do you
take me for? Do you think I'd have consented to an engagement at any
price if I hadn't loved her to distraction? I've tried to cease loving
her, to school myself to hate her because of what she is--Thompson's
daughter--and I've failed. The love I hoped to conquer only conquered
me. It's no good fighting it. I know that now. John (_triumphantly_).
Very well then, if you love the girl----
Charlie (_At bay_) Wait a bit. We were engaged before my eyes were
opened, before I'd seen the horrible injustice of the men's lives in the
works. I tell you it's wrong, all wrong. From the first moment that I
realized it, I dedicated my life to the men. All personal desires were
at an end. Rosie--everything went by the board. It was the men, the men,
always the men.
John. Pssh!
Charlie. I can't serve two masters. I can't waste time on marriage. I've
a lifelong duty to perform. I've to battle for reform; and how can I be
single-purposed in the fight if I'm tied to Rosie and accept a share of
Thompson's tainted money?
John (_hopelessly_). Well, I can't understand. I never could, and I'm
sure I don't want to interfere between you, but Jabez seems to think
you've been engaged long enough.
Charlie. I can't help that. There are two ways of ending an engagement,
anyhow.
John. Charlie, you promised.
Charlie. Yes, if she insists. It's Rosie I'm engaged to, not Thompson.
I'm not going to start married life on a lie, (_Enter Rosie centre._)
and I shan't start it at all if I can help it. I----
Rosie. What are you two talking about so seriously? Father's sent me to
see.
John. Has he, my dear? (_Rising and moving as though he had suddenly
grown twenty years older._) I think I will go to him. (_Walking towards
the door and mumbling again._) Yes, I think I will go to him.
(_Exit John by door r.c. A slight pause. Rosie looks at Charlie._)
Rosie. Well, haven't you a word to throw at a dog? (_Charlie is
silent._) Charlie, you're not ill, are you?
Charlie. Ill? No. I'm all right.
Rosie. Well, suppose you say "Good evening" to me.
Charlie (_collecting himselj_). I'm sorry. (_He crosses over and kisses
her per junctorily, then sits down absent-mindedly on soja. Rosie
watches him for a moment._)
Rosie. You're not very brilliant to-night.
Charlie. There's a depressing feeling in the air. Have you felt it?
Rosie (_compassionately_). You poor boy! Father worries you with
problems all day at the works, and when you come here in the evening its
business again. No wonder you're depressed. (_Going and sitting on the
arm of the soja._) Let me cheer you up. I'm not business, am I?
Charlie. No. But I think sometimes the problems I face in the laboratory
are child's play to those I've to face outside it.
Rosie. Is it anything I can help with? Let me try.
Charlie. It is you.
Rosie. Am I a problem? (_Rising and moving slightly away_) How exciting!
Charlie. It's not exciting. It's serious.
Rosie (_soberly, above soja_). And I'm not? All right. I'll be serious,
Charlie. What's the matter?
Charlie. Rosie, it's about--about our engagement. We've been engaged
quite a long time now.
Rosie. Two years.
Charlie. Yes. It seems people are wondering why we don't get married.
Rosie (_simply_). I'm ready when you are, Charlie.
Charlie. Yes--yes. That's just it.
Rosie. What?
Charlie. It's a difficult thing to say, but I'm not ready.
Rosie (_sympathetically, standing in front of sofa_). I don't think I
mind very much what people say, Charlie. If you want me to wait a little
longer, I can wait. I don't want to hurry you. You must choose your own
time. (_More lightly._) So that's all right and the cloud's passed now.
Charlie (_moved_). Oh--if you only knew how hard you're making it for
me. You're too good, too true to realize what a weakling I am, what a
criminal fool I've been to let things go on to this stage.
Rosie (_startled_). Charlie, what do you mean?
Charlie (_rising and crossing to Rosie_). I'm going to hurt you, Rosie.
It's all my cursed fault. Try to think of me as kindly as you can.
Rosie, it's not a case of waiting a little longer. I wish to God it was.
It's that I can't marry you at all.
Rosie. You can't marry me!
Charlie. Oh, don't think worse of me than you must. It's not another
woman. It never was and it never can be. I shall never love any one but
you.
Rosie. Then why, why?
Charlie. My life's too full.
Rosie (_wonderingly_). Your life?
Charlie. Yes. How shall I put it? (_Crossing to soja l._) A Catholic
priest doesn't marry lest marriage distract him from his wrestle
with the devil. I too am going to wrestle with a devils the devil of
industrialism. I've things to do in the world, a battle to fight which
can only be fought in the strength of loneliness.
Rosie (_a little hardly_). Yet you engaged yourself to me.
Charlie. Two years ago. I didn't see it then Day by day it has become
clearer. The task I have to do reveals itself. Oh, I dare say I don't
put things well. I know I must show up like a blackguard for not telling
you before. It's been inevitable for months, but I let things slide and
there it is. We're up against it now. (_Pause._)
Rosie. Yes. We're up against it now. Only it takes two to make a
bargain, Charlie. If you can be obstinate, so can I.
Charlie. What do you mean?
Rosie. I mean that I know you better than you know yourself and a
hundred times better than you know me. You and your Catholic priest! In
the Church I belong to priests marry, and I've yet to learn that they
fight the devil any the worse for it. I don't believe that the strongest
man is he who stands most alone when there's a woman in love with him.
You don't know me yet, Charlie. If you think I'd let you go for the sake
of your wrestle with the devil, you're mistaken. The devil might throw
you if you wrestled him alone, but he'll have less chance if I'm there
to pull his tail.
Charlie. You won't release me?
Rosie. Never. Oh, you needn't be afraid. I dare say I've a surprise in
store for you. You'll be none the worse for having a woman by your
side and I know I'm the right woman. There's only one way of making you
believe it, and that is by marrying you and proving it. I'm not afraid.
Charlie. Well, I am. (_Crossing to r.c._) You're assuming that I'm the
ordinary sort of fool who thinks money's everything. I may be a lunatic,
but I'm not that brand. I want to be left alone. I want a decent chance
of living my life in my own way. As things are, I'm caged. I'm at the
bottom of an infamous well, and there's a window somewhere far up, but
I can't reach it. I can't find the way out. (_Rosie smiles
compassionately._) Now, you're laughing at me. You! Rosie, harmless,
necessary Rosie, whom I've always thought of as the type of bread and
butter miss.
Rosie. And you're surprised to find her a woman with a will of her own?
Charlie. You won't let me go? (_Crossing to l.c._)
Rosie. Never.
Charlie. Do you know what you are doing?
Rosie (_confidently_). Oh, yes.
Charlie. You don't. You think you're being my guardian angel. You think
you're helping me. As a matter of fact, you're hanging a millstone round
my neck which will drag me down to the lowest depths of human misery. If
it wasn't so utterly tragic I could laugh for a week at the silliness of
it all. I'm not allowed an opinion of my own. I'm not to diverge by one
hand's breadth from the path laid down for me. I'm to marry the wife you
choose and do the work you choose and own the wealth you choose and take
the place in society laid down for me. I'm not a man. I'm a specimen in
a case with a pin through my body. I'm clay in the hands of the potter.
I'm----
Rosie. You're the man I love. (_Charlie collapses into chair l. of
table._)
Charlie. That's the last straw. I suppose I shall have that thrown in my
face all my life.
Rosie (_reflectively_). Let me see. Shall we say April 25? Lent will be
over by then.
Charlie. Say what you like. I haven't a kick left in me.
Rosie (_going to door c. and calling_). Father, father!
(_Enter Jabez and John in their shirt-sleeves with billiard cues._)
Jabez. Well, my dear. What is it? (_c. behind table, John crosses R.c.
Rosie is back l.c._)
Rosie. Father, Charlie wants us to be married on April 25.
Jabez. The young scamp. What a hurry he's in. Well, well, young people
will be young people, eh, John? (_Nudges John._)
John. Thank you, my boy, thank you. You don't know what this means to
me.
Jabez. Yes, this saves a lot of trouble, Charlie. You're going to be a
sensible fellow, after all.
(_Patting Charlie's shoulder. John turns gratefully to Rosie._)
CURTAIN.