(A STUDY IN THE ART OF GENTEEL CONVERSATION.)
_The Drawing-room of a Margate Hotel. TIME--Evening. MRS. ARDLEIGH (of
Balham), and MRS. ALLBUTT (of Brondesbury), are discovered in the midst
of a conversation, in which each is anxious both to impress the other,
and ascertain how far she is a person to be cultivated. At present, they
have not got beyond the discovery of a common bond in Cookery._
MRS. ALLBUTT. You have the yolks of two eggs, I must tell you; squeeze
the juice of half a lemon into it, and, when you boil the butter in the
pan, make a paste of it with _dry_ flour.
MRS. ARDLEIGH. It sounds delicious--but you never can trust a Cook to
carry out instructions exactly.
MRS. ALL. I never _do_. Whenever I want to have anything specially nice
for my husband, I make a point of seeing to it myself. He appreciates
it. Now _some_ men, if you cook for them, never notice whether it's you
or the Cook. My husband _does_.
MRS. ARD. I wonder how you find time to do it. I'm sure _I_ should
never----
MRS. ALL. Oh, it takes time, of course--but what does that matter when
you've nothing to do? Did I mention just a small pinch of Cayenne
pepper?--because that's a _great_ improvement!
MRS. ARD. I tell you what I like Cayenne pepper with, better than
anything--and that's eggs.
MRS. ALL. (_with elegant languor_). I hardly ever eat an egg. Oysters,
now, I'm _very_ fond of--_fried_, that is.
MRS. ARD. They're very nice done in the real shells. Or on scollops. We
have silver--or rather--(_with a magnanimous impulse to tone down her
splendour_), silver-plated ones.
MRS. ALL. How funny--so have we! (_Both women feel an increase of liking
for one another._) I like them cooked in milk, too.
[_The first barrier being satisfactorily passed, they proceed,
as usual, to the subject of ailments._
MRS. ARD. My doctor _does_ do me good, I must say--he never lets me get
ill. He just sees your liver's all right, and then he feeds you up.
MRS. ALL. That's like _my_ doctor; he always tells me, if he didn't keep
on constantly building me up, I should go all to pieces in no time.
That's how I come to be here. I always run down at the end of every
Season.
MRS. ARD. (_feeling that MRS. ALLBUTT can't be "anybody very particular"
after all_). What--to Margate? Fancy! Don't you find you get tired of
it? _I_ should.
MRS. ALL. (_with dignity_). I didn't say I always went to Margate. On
the contrary, I have never been here before, and shouldn't be here now,
if my doctor hadn't told me it was my only chance.
MRS. ARD. (_reassured_). I only came down here on my little girl's
account. One of those nasty croupy coughs, you know, and hoops with it.
But she's almost well already. I will say it's a wonderful air. Still,
the worst of Margate is, one isn't likely to meet a soul one knows!
MRS. ALL. Well, that's the charm of it--to me. One has enough of that
during the Season.
MRS. ARD. (_recognising the superiority of this view_). Indeed one has.
What a whirl it has been to be sure!
MRS. ALL. The Season? Why, I never remember one with so little doing.
Most of the best houses closed--hardly a single really smart party--one
or two weddings--and that's positively all!
MRS. ARD. (_slightly crushed, in spite of a conviction_ _that--socially
speaking--Balham has been rather more brilliant than usual this year_).
Yes, that's very true. I suppose the Elections have put a stop to most
things?
MRS. ALL. There never was much going on. _I_ should rather have said it
was Marlborough House being shut up that made everything so dull from
the first.
MRS. ARD. Ah, that _does_ make such a difference, doesn't it? (_She
feels she must make an effort to recover lost ground._) I fully expected
to be at Homburg this year.
MRS. ALL. Then you would have met Lady Neuraline Menthol. She _was_
ordered there, I happen to know.
MRS. ARD. Really, you don't say so? Lady Neuraline! Well, that's the
first _I've_ heard of it. (_It is also the first time she has heard of
her, but she trusts to be spared so humiliating an admission._)
MRS. ALL. It's a fact, I can assure you. You know her, perhaps?
MRS. ARD. (_who would dearly like to say she does, if she only dared_).
Well, I can hardly say I exactly _know_ her. I know _of_ her. I've met
her about, and so on. (_She tells herself this is quite as likely to be
true as not._)
[Illustration: "Dear, dear! _not_ a county family!"]
MRS. ALL. (_who of course does not know Lady Neuraline either_). Ah, she
is a most delightful person--requires _knowing_, don't you know.
MRS. ARD. So many in her position do, don't they? (_So far as she is
concerned--they all do._) You'd think it was haughtiness--but it's
really only _manner_.
MRS. ALL. (_feeling that she can go ahead with safety now_). I have
never found anything of _that_ sort in Lady Neuraline myself (_which is
perfectly true._) She's rather odd and flighty, but _quite_ a dear. By
the way, _how_ sad it is about those poor dear Chutneys--the Countess,
don't you know!
MRS. ARD. Ah (_as if she knew all the rest of the family_), I don't know
_her_ at all.
MRS. ALL. Such a sweet woman--but the trouble she's had with her eldest
boy, Lord Mango! He married quite beneath him, you know, some girl from
the provinces--not a county-family girl even.
MRS. ARD. (_shocked_). Dear, dear! _not_ a county family!
MRS. ALL. No; somebody quite common--I forget the name, but it was
either Gherkin or Onion, or something of that sort. I was told they had
been in Chili a good while. Poor Mango never had much taste, or he would
never have got mixed up with such a set. Anyway, he's got himself into
a terrible pickle. I hear Capsicums is actually to be sold to pay his
debts.
MRS. ALL. You don't say so! Capsicums! Gracious!
MRS. ALL. Yes, _isn't_ it a pity! Such a lovely old place as it was,
too--_the_ most comfortable house to stay at in all England; so
beautifully _warm_! But it's dreadful to think of how the aristocracy
are taking to marry out of their own set. Look at the Duke of
Dragnet--married a Miss Duckweed--goodness only knows where he picked
her up! but he got entangled somehow, and now his people are trying to
get rid of her. I see so many of these cases. Well, I'm afraid I must
wish you good evening--it's my time for retiring. (_Patronisingly._)
I've quite enjoyed the conversation--such a pleasure in a place like
this to come across a genial companion!
MRS. ARD. (_fluttered and flattered_). I'm sure you're exceedingly kind
to say so, and I can say the same for myself. I hope we may become
better acquainted. (_To herself, after MRS. ALLBUTT has departed._) I've
quite taken to that woman--she's so thoroughly the lady, and moves in
very high society, too. You can tell that from the way she talks. What's
that paper on the table? (_She picks up a journal in a coloured
wrapper._) "_Society Snippets, the Organ of the Upper Ten. One Penny._"
The very thing I wanted. It's such a comfort to know who's who. (_She
opens it and reads sundry paragraphs headed "Through the Keyhole."_) Now
how funny this is! Here's the very same thing about the dulness of the
Season that she said. That shows she must be really in it. And a note
about Lady Neuraline being about to recruit at Homburg. And another
about her reputation or eccentricity, and her "sweetness to the select
few privileged to be her intimates." And here's all about Lord Mango,
and what a pleasant house Capsicums is, and his marriage, and the Duke
of Dragnet's, too. Her information was very correct, I must say! (_A
light begins to break in upon her._) I wonder whether----but
there--people of her sort wouldn't require to read the papers for such
things.
[_Here the door opens, and MRS. ALLBUTT appears, in some
embarrassment._
MRS. ALL. (_scrutinising the tables_). Oh, it's nothing. I thought I'd
left something of mine here; it was only a paper--I see I was mistaken,
don't trouble.
MRS. ARD. (_producing Society Snippets_). I expect it will be this.
(_MRS. ALLBUTT'S face reveals her ownership._) I took it up, not knowing
it was yours. (_Meaningly_.) It has some highly interesting
information, I see.
MRS. ALL. (_slightly demoralised_). Oh, has it? I--I've not had time to
glance at it yet. Pray don't let me deprive you of it. I dare say
there's very little in it I don't know already.
MRS. ARD. So I should have thought. (_To herself, after MRS. ALLBUTT has
retired in disorder._) Fancy that woman trying to take me in like that,
and no more in Society than I am--if so much! However, I've found her
out before going too far--luckily. And I've a good mind to take in this
_Society Snippets_ myself--it certainly does improve one's conversation.
She won't have it _all_ her own way _next_ time!
[Illustration]