_A committee-room on the top floor of a house in a small provincial
town. Back of the stage, centre, there is a door, opening inwards on
to the stage. To the right of the door, a few pegs are on the wall for
hanging coats, etc. Right of the stage, is a good-sized window, showing
distant views of chimney-pots outside. Left of the stage, a small
gas-fire burns. Near it, a table and chairs have been formally arranged
for the meeting._
_The whole atmosphere of the room is cold and dreary. Time: a winter
afternoon in 1917._
_Miss Miller discovered. She is cold and tired-looking, mechanically
arranging blotting-paper, etc. on the table._
_Mrs. Ballantyne enters. She is prosperous-looking and clad in warm
furs, and is out of breath from ascending the stairs._
MISS MILLER: Good afternoon, Mrs. Ballantyne.
MRS. BALLANTYNE (_out of breath_): Good afternoon. Oh dear, those
stairs! I’m out of breath.
MISS MILLER: They are trying, aren’t they? Four flights!
MRS. BALLANTYNE: Oh, you oughtn’t to find them trying, at your age.
Tell me, have you any idea why we’ve all been asked to come here
to-day, Miss Miller? It’s not the day for our regular meeting, at all.
MISS MILLER: No, I’ve got the notice for that all ready to send out as
usual. This is a special meeting that Mrs. Lloyd-Evans is calling. She
only sent me a note about it last night, telling me to get the room
ready.
MRS. BALLANTYNE: She wrote to me too, but she didn’t say what it was
all about. I suppose she’ll have written to Mrs. Akers, as well.
MISS MILLER: Here they are.
(_Enter Mrs. Lloyd-Evans and Mrs. Akers. Mrs. Lloyd-Evans is mysterious
and melancholy, and Mrs. Akers lively and full of undisguised
curiosity. Both wear heavy coats, furs, etc. They shake hands with Mrs.
Ballantyne, and nod and say how d’ye do to Miss Miller. Whilst they
talk they loosen or take off their wraps, and place them on the pegs
near the door._)
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS (_to Mrs. Ballantyne_): How d’ye do. We’re all a
little before our time, I think, but then as I always say, it’s
better to be too early than too late. (_This she says with an air of
originality._)
MRS. BALLANTYNE: Of course, the minute I got your note I quite saw that
something must have happened, or you wouldn’t have asked us to come out
in this dreadful cold, _and_ up those awful stairs. I do think, when
we’re doing the whole of this Welfare Committee business gratuitously,
that they might have found us a room on the ground floor. Isn’t there
any hope of getting better premises?
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: They pretend that any accommodation is difficult to
find nowadays, but I should like to know why some building shouldn’t
be done? What I always say is, that there wouldn’t be half this
unemployment trouble, if people were given _work_.
MRS. BALLANTYNE (_bored_): Yes, indeed.
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: It’s just Bolshevism, you know, all this talk of
unemployment. There’s always work for those who are willing to work.
Now I can’t help thinking it would put a stop to all this labour
unrest, if they could only send a few of the leaders to _Russia_, to
show them what Bolshevism has resulted in, there.
Mrs. Ballantyne: Yes, of course. It really would be a lesson. (_She
is arranging her dress, etc., as she speaks, and tidying herself at a
little pocket-mirror._)
MRS. AKERS (_seating herself, to Mrs. Lloyd-Evans_): Well, I’m all
agog to know what’s happened. Your note was most mysterious. What’s
been happening at the School? Really, the present generation is the
limit--always giving trouble. It seems to have come in with bobbed hair.
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: Girls are often very artful.
MRS. AKERS: Well, we ought to be able to cope with the artfulness of
mere schoolgirls, surely. Now do let’s sit down and get to business.
MRS. BALLANTYNE (_to Mrs. Lloyd-Evans_): As you see, I haven’t brought
my daughter. I’m sure it was very thoughtful of you to warn me in your
note, but I gather it means that we have something--painful--to discuss?
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: One hardly likes to put things into words--but your
Phyllis is a young girl, after all, and I always feel there ought to be
something _sacred_ about a young girl.
MRS. BALLANTYNE: I had to pretend to Phyllis that you wanted to speak
about some very dull question of finance. It was deceiving her,
perhaps, but I _do_ so agree with you about how one ought to treat
young girls as something _sacred_, as you say. So I told her the whole
thing was going to be very formal, and only members of the actual
Committee allowed to be present. I’m afraid it was rather in the nature
of a pious fraud.
(_They all laugh, and draw slightly closer together_.)
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: Before we begin, I should like to say that this must
all be in absolute confidence.
MRS. BALLANTYNE (_looking at Miss Miller_): Excuse me a moment. (_She
whispers to Mrs. Lloyd-Evans. The other ladies try to hear what is
said, and at the same time to look as though they were doing nothing of
the sort._)
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS (_aloud_): I am sure Miss Miller will be discreet.
Charity sometimes forces one to face very painful things, and one must
be brave and hear about various tragedies that one would far prefer
never to mention at all. (_Pause._) One hardly knows how to word
certain things. (_Pause._)
MRS. BALLANTYNE: Really, if it’s anything of _that_ sort, I think we
ought to ask Miss Miller to leave us. (_Aside_): she’s only a girl.
MRS. AKERS (_eagerly_): _That_ sort? What sort?
MRS. BALLANTYNE: Well, you know what I mean. But I’m sure I hope I’m
mistaken.
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: I’m afraid you’re not, Mrs. Ballantyne.
MRS. AKERS: Call a spade a spade. Is it the usual thing?
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: I should be sorry to call it the _usual_ thing. But
I’m afraid that’s what it is.
MRS. AKERS: I’ve worked in a district, and my husband has a large
medical practice amongst poor people. I suppose some girl has got into
trouble?
(_Mrs. Lloyd-Evans bows her head in assent, and once more all three
ladies draw their chairs closer together. Miss Miller covers her face
with her hands for a moment._) _From now onwards, the three ladies are
all much more animated, and full of barely-disguised enjoyment of a
subject which they all regard as a delicate one._
MRS. BALLANTYNE: We’re all married women here, and I think we can
discuss this better without Miss Miller.
MISS MILLER (_quickly, and with suppressed agitation_): If it’s a
formal meeting, you’ll want the minutes entered.
MRS. AKERS: Yes. She’d better stay.
MRS. BALLANTYNE (_aside to Mrs. Akers_): I don’t agree. I’m the mother
of a girl myself, as you know, and to me girlhood is _sacred_. We have
a most painful subject to discuss.
MISS MILLER: Please let me stay. I--I might help.
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: How could _you_ help, Miss Miller? And even if you
could, it would be most unsuitable in an unmarried girl like yourself.
Please wait in the next room until we call you to take down the results
of the conference.
(_Exit Miss Miller, and shuts the door._)
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: I don’t know that I altogether like that girl. Rather
horrid of her to be so curious, wasn’t it?
MRS. BALLANTYNE: Any young woman with a _nice_ mind would have been
only too thankful to be spared the embarrassment of staying in the
room while such a thing was being discussed. (_Her tone changes to
eagerness._) Well, this is too dreadful! Which of the girls is it?
MRS. AKERS: I’m certain it’s one of those twins! They really are
pretty--you know what I mean, pretty _for_ that class. Which of them is
it?
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: It’s nothing to do with the twins. (Though I daresay
it’ll be them next--one never knows, when once this sort of thing
begins.) No, it’s the girl from London, the daughter of that widowed
Mrs. Smith who has been taking in washing in West Street.
MRS. AKERS: Fanny!
MRS. BALLANTYNE: That child! But she can’t be more than sixteen.
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: Fifteen. But one knows what London girls are, at any
age.
MRS. AKERS: How did you find out? Is it absolutely certain?
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: Absolutely. It ought to have been found out months
ago, if the girl hadn’t been so artful. Even her mother says she had no
idea, till just the other day.
MRS. AKERS (_decidedly_): That’s impossible.
MRS. LLOYD-EVANS: She pitched a long yarn about the girl herself not
having known what was happening. They pretend it came to light by
accident, through something Fanny said to her mother, which made her
suspicious.
MRS. AKERS (_eagerly_): What was that? If we’re to help at all, we’d
better know everything.
(_Mrs. Lloyd-Evans whispers to her, and Mrs. Akers whispers in her turn
to Mrs. Ballantyne._)