SHORT. (_authoritatively_) My dear!
MRS. SHORT. (_intimidated_) Very well.
SWEET. (_observing them_) Astonishing! One work and he is obeyed at
once.
SHORT. (_aside to SWEET_) Recollect!
SWEET. (_aside to SHORT_) Never fear.
SHORT. (_to his wife_) Now if you please.
_Exit SHORT and MRS. SHORT, door, L. 1 E._
SWEET. Mrs. Short is right--she seems vexed, perhaps she is really
sorry.
MRS. SWEET. (_rising_) These things only happen to me.
SWEET. Whose fault is that, ma'am?
MRS. SWEET. How was I to know I should be so misunderstood?
SWEET. You should be more particular in what you say then. Think
before you speak.
MRS. SWEET. Well, so I thought I did. I am quite grieved about it.
(_rings bell_)
_Enter MARIA, door, L. 1 E._
MRS. SWEET. Has Mr. Billington's aunt sent the book of the fashions
she promised the other day to Mrs. Short?
MARIA. No, ma'am.
MRS. SWEET. Send Stephen for it directly then, and as soon as it comes
bring it to me--don't make any mistake now, bring it to me--you
understand?
MARIA. Very well, ma'am.
_Exit, L. C._
SWEET. (_aside_) She is off at a tangent now, about her finery.
(_aloud_) Your grief appears to be of short duration, ma'am.
MRS. SWEET. I am sure I was quite in despair about it, but Louisa has
kindly undertaken to put matters to rights for me.
SWEET. Mrs. Short, then, has undertaken more than she has any
authority for, and may find the task more difficult than she supposes.
MRS. SWEET. Oh, I hope not, but if she doesn't succeed, I shall go
another way to work--a sharp knife will soon settle the business.
SWEET. (_staggers back horrified_) A sharp knife!--you alarm me. What
for?
MRS. SWEET. What for?--why to rip up the seam of my dress to be
sure--I want the upper skirt open at the side, trimmed with
flowers--there's nothing more becoming.
SWEET. (_in disgust_) Trimmed with flowers! Fool, to suppose that _I_
was in any way concerned in your vexation.
MRS. SWEET. You--of course not--how should that concern you?
SWEET. You have the face to ask me the question after your scandalous
behaviour just now?
MRS. SWEET. Oh, that's what you've been driving at all this while--I
didn't understand you--you don't mean to say that you are still in a
bad temper about my joking you. (_laughs_) There I ask your pardon?
Shall I go down upon my knees?
SWEET. No, by no means; laugh again, ma'am, if you like--pray don't
restrain yourself--but you will find for the future that I shan't give
way to all your whims and fancies quite as easily as I have done--it
doesn't answer. (_crosses to L._)
MRS. SWEET. Come, now Willie, I didn't mean to offend you, (_smiling_)
the danger was all past you know.
SWEET. No, ma'am, I am not in a laughing humour to-day, and as I see
nothing amusing in what has happened to me, and don't feel disposed to
go out, you will be pleased to stay at home to-night, ma'am.
MRS. SWEET. (_smiling_) Very well.
SWEET. Yes, but I mean it, Mrs. Sweet; I am not well--I am suffering
from the effects of my accident--wounded both in mind and body.
(_crosses to R._)
MRS. SWEET. Where? Why didn't you see the doctor, then, when I wished
you?
SWEET. Zounds, ma'am! a man may be wounded without having all his
bones broken--besides, I am not obliged to give a reason--I don't
choose to go, and I request you not to go either--I _order_ you not to
go!
MRS. SWEET. Oh, very well, sir, as you please, of course; but since
you feel yourself so very, very ill, why on earth don't you go to bed?