GENERAL MURMUR. What _can_ it be? Not _Turk_, I suppose, or
Magician?--Quarrelling?--Parnellite--Impertinence? Shall we give it up?
No, they like us to guess, poor things; and besides, if we don't they'll
do another; and it is getting _so_ late, and such a _long_ drive home.
Oh, they're all coming back; then it _is_ over. No, indeed, we can't
_imagine_. "_Familiar!_" To be sure--_how_ clever, and _how_ well you
all acted it, to be sure--you must be quite tired after it all. I am
sure _we_--hem--are deeply indebted to you.... My dear Miss Rose, how
wonderfully you disguised yourself, I never recognized you a bit, nor
_you_, Mr. Nightingale. What part did _you_ take?
MR. NIGHTINGALE. I--er--didn't take any particular part--wasn't wanted,
you know.
MISS ROSE. Not to _act_,--so we stayed outside and--and--arranged
things.
AN OLD LADY. Indeed? Then you had all the hard work, and none of the
pleasure, my dear, I'm afraid.
MISS ROSE (_sweetly_). Oh no. I mean yes!--but we didn't _mind_ it much.
THE O. L. And which of you settled what the Word was to be?
MR. N. Well, I believe we settled that together.
[_Carriages are announced; departure of guests who are not of the
house-party. In the Smoking-room_, MR. PUSHINGTON _discovers that he
does not seem exactly popular with the other men, and puts it down to
jealousy_.
A Christmas Romp.
SCENE--MRS. CHIPPERFIELD'S _Drawing-room_. _It is after the
Christmas dinner, and the Gentlemen have not yet appeared._
MRS. C. _is laboriously attempting to be gracious to her
Brother's Fiancee, whose acquaintance she has made for the
first time, and with whom she is disappointed_. _Married
Sisters and Maiden Aunts confer in corners with a sleepy
acidity._
FIRST MARRIED SISTER (_to Second_). I felt quite sorry for Fred, to see
him sitting there, looking--and no wonder--so ashamed of himself--but I
always will say, and I always _must_ say, Caroline, that if you and
Robert had been _firmer_ with him when he was younger, he would never
have turned out so badly! Now, there's my George--&c., &c.
MRS. C. (_to the Fiancee_). Well, my dear, I don't approve of young men
getting engaged until they have some prospect of being able to marry,
and dear Algy was always my favourite brother, and I've seen so much
misery from long engagements. However, we must hope for the best, that's
all!
A MAIDEN AUNT (_to Second Ditto_). Exactly what struck _me_, Martha.
_One_ waiter would have been quite sufficient, and if James _must_ be
grand and give champagne, he might have given us a little _more_ of it;
I'm sure I'd little else but foam in _my_ glass! And every plate as cold
as a stone, and you and I the only people who were not considered worthy
of silver forks, and the children encouraged to behave as they please,
and Joseph Podmore made such a fuss with, because he's well off--and not
enough sweetbread to go the round. Ah, well, thank goodness, we needn't
dine here for another year!
MR. CHIPPERFIELD (_at the door_). Sorry to cut you short in your cigar,
Uncle, and you, Limpett; but fact is, being Christmas night, I thought
we'd come up a little sooner and all have a bit of a romp.... Well,
Emily, my dear, here we are, all of us--ready for anything in the way of
a frolic--what's it to be? Forfeits, games, Puss in the Corner,
something to cheer us all up, eh? Won't any one make a suggestion?
[_General expression of gloomy blankness._
ALGERNON (_to his Fiancee--whom he wants to see shine_). Zeffie, you
know no end of games--what's that one you played at home, with potatoes
and a salt-spoon, _you_ know?
ZEFFIE (_blushing_). No, _please_, Algy! I don't know _any_ games,
indeed, I couldn't _really_!
MR. C. Uncle Joseph will set us going, I'm sure--what do _you_ say,
Uncle?
UNCLE JOSEPH. Well, I won't say "no" to a quiet rubber.
MRS. C. But, you see, we can't _all_ play in that, and there _is_ a pack
of cards in the house somewhere; but I know two of the aces are gone,
and I don't think all the court cards were there the last time we
played. Still, if you can manage with what is left, we might get up a
game for you.
UNCLE J. (_grimly_). Thank you, my dear, but, on the whole, I think I
would almost rather romp--
MR. C. Uncle Joseph votes for romping! What do you say to Dumb Crambo?
Great fun--half of us go out, and come in on all-fours, to rhyme to
"cat," or "bat," or something--_you_ can play that, Limpett?
MR. LIMPETT. If I _must_ find a rhyme to cat, I prefer, so soon after
dinner, not to go on all-fours for it, I confess.
MR. C. Well, let's have something quieter, then--only _do_ settle.
Musical Chairs, eh?
ALGY. Zeffie will play the piano for you--she plays beautifully.
ZEFFIE. Not without notes, Algy, and I forgot to bring my music with me.
Shall we play "Consequences"? It's a very quiet game--you play it
sitting down, with paper and pencil, you know!
MR. LIMPETT (_sardonically, and sotto voce_). Ah, this is something
_like_ a rollick now. "Consequences," eh?
ALGY (_who has overheard--in a savage undertone_). If that isn't good
enough for you, suggest something better--or shut up!
[MR. L. _prefers the latter alternative_.
MR. C. Now, then, have you given everybody a piece of paper, Emily?
Caroline, you're going to play--we can't leave _you_ out of it.
AUNT CAROLINE. No, James, I'd rather look on, and see you all enjoying
yourselves--I've _no_ animal spirits now!
MR. C. Oh, nonsense! Christmas-time, you know. Let's be jolly while we
can--give her a pencil, Emily!
AUNT C. No, I can't, really. You must excuse me. I know I'm a wet
blanket; but, when I think that I mayn't be with you another Christmas,
we may _most_ of us be dead by then, why--(_sobs_).
FRED (_the Family Failure_). That's right, Mater--trust you to see the
humorous side of everything!
ANOTHER AUNT. For shame, Fred! If you don't know who is responsible for
your poor mother's low spirits, others do!
[_The Family Failure collapses_
MR. LIMPETT. Well, as we've all got pencils, is there any reason why the
revelry should not commence?
MR. C. No--don't let's waste any more time. Miss Zeffie says she will
write down on the top of her paper "Who met whom" (must be a Lady and
Gentleman in the party, you know), then she folds it down, and passes it
on to the next, who writes, "What he said to her"--the next, "What she
said to him"--next, "What the consequences were," and the last, "What
the world said." Capital game--first-rate. Now, then!
[_The whole party pass papers in silence from one to another, and
scribble industriously with knitted brows._
MR. C. Time's up, all of you. I'll read the first paper aloud. (_Glances
at it, and explodes._) He-he!--this is really very funny. (_Reads._)
"Uncle Joseph met Aunt Caroline at the--ho--ho!--the Empire! He said to
her, '_What are the wild waves saying!_' and she said to him, 'It's time
you were taken away!' The consequences were that they both went and had
their hair cut, and the world said they had always suspected there was
something between them!"
UNCLE J. I consider that a piece of confounded impertinence!
[_Puffs._
AUNT C. It's not true. I _never_ met Joseph at the Empire. I don't go to
such places. I _didn't_ think I should be insulted like
this--(_Weeps_)--on Christmas too!
AUNTS' CHORUS. Fred _again_!
[_They regard the_ FAMILY FAILURE _indignantly_.
MR. C. There, there, it was all fun--no harm meant. I'll read the next.
"Mr. Limpett met Miss Zeffie in the Burlington Arcade. He said to her,
'O, you little duck!' She said to him, 'Fowls are cheap to-day!' The
consequences were that they never smiled again, and the world said,
'What price hot potatoes?'" (_Everybody looks depressed._) H'm--not
bad--but I think we'll play something else now.
[ZEFFIE _perceives that_ ALGY _is not pleased with her_.
TOMMY (_to_ UNCLE JOSEPH). Uncle, why didn't _you_ carve at dinner?
UNCLE J. Well, Tommy, because the carving was done at a side table--and
uncommon badly done, too. Why do you want to know?
TOMMY. Parpar thought you _would_ carve, I know. He told Mummy she must
ask you, because--
MRS. C. (_with a prophetic instinct_). Now, Tommy, you mustn't tease
your Uncle. Come away, and tell your new Aunt Zeffie what you're going
to do with your Christmas boxes.
TOMMY. But mayn't I tell him what Parpar said, first?