_Scene:_ On the edge of Brendon Forest.
_Time:_ three days later. A road runs along the
hack of the stage front which it is separated by
a fence and high hedge. In this hut somewhat to
the right is a stile and also a gate. Round the
trunk of a large tree to the left is a rough
wooden seat. The stage is empty when the curtain
rises. Fhen enter Mrs. De Mullin, Janet and
Johnny. They approach stile from the left and
come through gate. There isan exit on the right
of the stage through the Forest.
JANET
I don’t think I’ll come any farther, mother.
MRS. DE MULLIN
You won’t come up to the house?
JANET
No, thanks _(rather grimly)_. I don’t want to
see Mrs. Bulstead. And I’m sure Mrs. Bulstead
doesn’t want to see me.
MRS. DE MULLIN
I wish Hester could have come.
JANET
Why couldn’t she?
MRS. DE MULLIN
She’s at the church putting up the decorations.
It’s the Harvest Thanksgiving to-morrow.
JANET
_(laughing)_
Mr. Brown!
MRS. DE MULLIN
Janet, I told you you weren’t to laugh at Hester
about Mr. Brown. It’s not kind.
JANET
_(lightly)_
It’s all right mother. Hester’s not here.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Still, I don’t like it, dear. It’s not quite...
JANET
_(soothing her)_
Not quite _nice_. I know, mother. Not the way
really refined and ladylike young women talk.
But I’m only quite a common person who sells
hats. You can’t expect all these refinements
from _me!_
[_Mrs. De Mullin sighs._
MRS. DE MULLIN
Are you going to turn back?
JANET
Not at once. I’ll wait for you here a little
with Johnny in case they’re out. Why, they’ve
put a seat here. [_She sits on the side farthest
from the road._
MRS. DE MULLIN
Usen’t there to be one?
JANET
No. Nor a gate in my time. Only a stile.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Very likely, dear. I don’t remember. I don’t
often come this way.
JANET
_(nods)_
I often used to come along it in the old days.
MRS. DE MULLIN
I dare say. Well, I must be getting on to my
call or I shall be late. You’re sure you won’t
come?
JANET
Quite, mother. Good-bye.
[_Mrs. De Mullin goes of through the forest._
JOHNNY
Where’s grandmother going, Mummie?
JANET
Up to the big house.
JOHNNY
What big house?
JANET
Brendon Park.
JOHNNY
Mayn’t I go up to the big house too?
JANET
No, dear. You’re to stay with mother.
JOHNNY
Who lives at the big house?
JANET
Nobody you know, dear.
JOHNNY
That’s why I asked, Mummie.
JANET
Well, don’t ask any more, sonny. Mother’s rather
tired. Run away and play, there’s a good boy.
_[Kisses him._
JOHNNY
Very well, Mummie.
_[Johnny disappears into the wood. Janet falls
into a brown study. Presently a footstep is
heard coming along the roady but she seems to
notice nothing. Then a young man climbs over the
stile. He starts as he sees her and draws back,
then advances eagerly, holding out his hand._
MONTY
Janet, is that _you!_
JANET
_(smiling)_
Yes, Monty.
MONTY
_(astonished)_
JANET! Here!
JANET
Yes, Monty.
MONTY
_(nodding over his shoulder)_
_Our_ stile, Janet!
JANET
Our stile.
MONTY
_(nods)_
The stile where you and I first met.
JANET
_(relapsing for a moment into something
like sentiment)_
Yes. I thought I must see it again--for the sake
of old times.
MONTY
How long ago it all seems!
JANET
_(matter of fact)_
It is a longish time, you know.
MONTY
_(thoughtfully)_
I believe that was the happiest month of my
life, Janet.
JANET
Was it, Monty?
MONTY
Yes _(pause)_. I say, when did you come down?
You don’t _live_ at home any longer, do you?
JANET
No. I only came down three days ago.
MONTY
By Jove it _is_ good to see you again. Why, it’s
eight years since we used to be together, you
and I.
JANET
Nearly nine.
MONTY
Yes... You’re not coming to live down here
again, are you?
JANET
No; why?
MONTY
I thought perhaps...
JANET
_(cynically)_
Would you dislike it very much if I did, Monty?
MONTY
Of course not.
JANET
Confess. You _did_ feel it would be rather
awkward?
MONTY
Well, of course...
JANET
However you can set your mind at rest. I’m not.
[_His relief at this intelligence enables him to
realize the pleasure he is getting from seeing
her again._)
MONTY
I say, Janet, how well you’re looking! I believe
you’re handsomer than ever.
JANET
(smiling)
Am I?
MONTY
You know you are.
[_Pause. He looks at her admiringly. She turns
away with a little smile._
JANET
_(feeling that they are getting on to
dangerous ground)_
Well, Monty. Where have you been these eight
years?
MONTY
Abroad with my regiment. We’ve been ordered
all over the place. I’ve been home on leave, of
course. But not for the last three years. Not
since father bought the Park. I’ve never been at
Brendon since ... _(pause)_.
JANET
Since we were here? Don’t blush, Monty. _(He
nods shamefacedly.)_ How did he come to buy the
place?
MONTY
It was just a chance. He saw it advertised, came
and looked at it and bought it. He’s no idea
I was ever at Brendon before _(rather bitter
laugh)_. None of them have. I have to pretend
not to know my way about.
JANET
Why?
MONTY
It seems safer. _(Janet nods.)_ Sometimes I
almost forget to keep it up. I’m such a duffer
about things. But I’ve managed hitherto. And
now, of course, it’s all right as I’ve been
here three months. I may be supposed to know the
beastly place by this time.
JANET
Beastly? You’re not very polite.
[_Monty laughs shamefacedly_.
MONTY
You got my note, didn’t you?
JANET
What note?... Oh, eight years ago, you mean?
Yes.
MONTY
I left it with the woman at the lodgings. As you
were coming over that afternoon, I thought it
safer than sending a message. And of course I
daren’t telegraph. _(Janet nods.)_ I was awfully
sick at having to go away like that. All in a
moment. Without even saying good-bye. But I had
to.
JANET
Of course. Was your mother badly hurt?
MONTY
No. Only stunned. That was such rot. If people
get chucked out of a carriage they must expect
to get stunned. But of course they couldn’t
know. The telegram just said “Mother hurt.
Carriage accident. Come at once.” It got to me
at the lodgings a couple of hours before you
were coming. I had just time to chuck my things
into a bag and catch the train. I wanted to come
back after the mater was all right again. But I
couldn’t very well, could I?
JANET
Why not?
MONTY
Well, the regiment was to sail in less than
three weeks and the mater would have thought it
rather rough if I’d gone away again. I’d been
away six weeks as it was.
JANET
Oh yes. Of course.
MONTY
_(with half a sigh)_
To think if I hadn’t happened to be riding along
that road and seen you at the stile and asked
my way, you and I might never have met. What a
chance life is!
JANET
_(nods)_
Just a chance _(pause)_.
MONTY
Why did you go away, Janet? You weren’t going
the last time I saw you.
JANET
Wasn’t I?
MONTY
No. At least you said nothing about it.
JANET
I didn’t know I was going then. Not for certain.
MONTY
Why _did_ you go?
JANET
_(quietly)_ I had to, Monty.
MONTY
_(puzzled)_
You had to? _(Janet nods.)_But why?
Mother found out.
MONTY
About us?
JANET
Yes. And she told father.
MONTY
_(genuinely distressed)_ Oh, Janet! I’m so
sorry.
JANET
_(shrugs)_
It couldn’t be helped,
MONTY
Does he know who it was?
JANET
Who _you_ were? No.
MONTY
You didn’t tell him?
JANET
MONTY! As if I should.
MONTY
I don’t know. Girls generally do.
JANET
_I_ didn’t.
MONTY
No. I suppose you wouldn’t. But you’re different
from most girls. Do you know there was always
something rather splendid about you, Janet?
JANET
(curtseys)
Thank you.
MONTY
I wonder he didn’t _make_ you tell.
JANET
He did try of course. That was why I ran away.
MONTY
I see. Where did you go to?
JANET
London.
MONTY
To London? All alone? (Janet nods) Why did you
do that? And why didn’t you let me know?
JANET
_(shrugs)_
You were out of England by that time.
MONTY
But why London?
JANET
I had to go somewhere. And it seemed better
to go where I shouldn’t be known. Besides it’s
easier to be lost sight of in a crowd.
MONTY
But what did you do when you got there?
JANET
_(calmly)_
I got a place in a shop, Monty.
MONTY
A shop? You!
JANET
Yes, a hat-shop, in Regent Street. My dear
Monty, don’t gape like that. Hat-shops are
perfectly respectable places. Almost too
respectable to judge by the fuss two of them
made about employing _me_.
MONTY
What do you mean?
JANET
Well, when I applied to them for work they
naturally asked if I had ever worked in a
hat-shop before. And when I said “No” they
naturally asked why I wanted to begin. In the
innocence of my heart I told them. Whereupon
they at once refused to employ me--not in the
politest terms.
MONTY
Poor Janet. What beastly luck! Still...
[_Hesitates._
JANET
Yes, Monty?
MONTY
I mean naturally they couldn’t be expected...
_(flustered)_
At least I don’t mean that exactly.
Only... [_Stops._
JANET
My dear Monty, I quite understand what you mean.
You needn’t trouble to be explicit. Naturally
they couldn’t be expected to employ an abandoned
person like me to trim hats. That was exactly
their view.
MONTY
But I thought you said you _did_ get a place in
a shop? Janet
Yes. But not at either of _those_ shops. They
were _far_ too virtuous.
MONTY
How did you do it?
JANET
Told lies, Monty. I believe that’s how most
women get employment.
MONTY
Told lies?
JANET
Yes. I invented a husband, recently deceased,
bought several yards of crêpe and a wedding
ring. This is the ring.
[_Takes off glove._
MONTY
Oh, Janet, how beastly for you!
[_Janet shrugs_.
JANET
_(laughing)_
Everything seems to be “Beastly” to you, Monty.
Brendon and telling lies and lots of other
things. Luckily I’m less superfine.
MONTY
Didn’t they find out?
JANET
No. That was why I decided to be a widow. It
made inquiries more difficult.
MONTY
I should have thought it made them easier.
JANET
On the contrary. You can’t cross-question a
widow about a recent bereavement. If you do she
cries. I always used to look tearful directly my
husband’s name was even mentioned. So they gave
up mentioning it. Women are so boring when they
will cry.
MONTY
They might have inquired from other people.
JANET
Why should they? Besides there was no one to
inquire from. I called him Seagrave--and drowned
him at sea. You can’t ask questions of the
sharks.
MONTY
Oh, Janet, how can you joke about it?
JANET
I couldn’t--then. I wanted work-too badly. But I
can now--with your kind permission, I mean.
MONTY
And you’ve been at the shop ever since?
JANET
Not _that_ shop. I was only there about six
months --till baby was born, in fact...
MONTY
_(horrified)_
Janet, there was a baby!
JANET
Of course there was a baby.
MONTY
Oh, Janet! And you never wrote! Why didn’t you
write?
JANET
I did think of it. But on the whole I thought I
wouldn’t. It would have been no good.
MONTY
No good?
JANET
You were in India.
MONTY
I was in England.
JANET
Not then.
MONTY
You ought to have written at once--directly your
mother found out.
JANET
One week after you sailed, Monty _(defiantly)_.
Besides why should I write?
MONTY
Why? I could have married you, of course.
JANET
If I’d asked you, you mean? Thank you, my dear
Monty.
MONTY
No, I don’t. Of course I should have married
you. I _must_ have married you.
JANET
_(looking at him thoughtfully)_
I wonder if you would.
MONTY
Certainly I should. I should have been bound in
honour.
JANET
I see. Then I’m glad I never wrote.
MONTY
You’re _glad?_ Now?
JANET
Yes. I’ve done some foolish things in my life,
Monty, but none quite so foolish as that. To
marry a schoolboy, not because he loves you or
wants to marry you but because he thinks he’s
“bound in honour.” No, thank you.
MONTY
I don’t mean that. You know I don’t, Janet. I
loved you, of course. That goes without saying.
I’d have married you like a shot before, only
the Governor would have made such a fuss. The
Governor was so awfully straitlaced about this
sort of thing. When I was sent away from Eton he
made the most ghastly fuss.
JANET
Were you sent away from Eton for “this sort of
thing”?
MONTY
Yes--at least I don’t mean that either. But it
was about a girl there. He was frightfully wild.
He threatened to cut me off if I ever did such
a thing again. Such rot! As if no one had ever
been sent away from school before!
JANET
_(reflectively)_
I didn’t know you’d been sent away from Eton.
MONTY
Didn’t you? I suppose I didn’t like to tell
you-for fear of what you’d think _(bitterly)_. I
seem to have been afraid of everything in those
days. .
JANET
Not _everything_, Monty.
MONTY
Oh, you know what I mean. I was awfully afraid
of the Governor, I remember. I suppose all boys
are if their parents rag them too much. But I
would have married you, Janet, if I’d known. I
would honestly.
JANET
_(blandly)_
What is the pay of a British subaltern, Monty?
MONTY
The Governor would have had to stump up, of
course.
JANET
Poor Mr. Bulstead! He’d have _liked_ that,
I suppose? And what about your poor unhappy
colonel? And all the other little subalterns?
MONTY
_(obstinately)_
Still, you ought to have written.
JANET
_(quietly)_
_You_ never wrote.
MONTY
I couldn’t. You know that. You never would let
me. That was why I couldn’t send that note to
you to tell you I was going away. You said my
letters would be noticed.
JANET
Yes, I forgot that. That’s the result of having
a father who is what is called old-fashioned.
MONTY
What do you mean?
JANET
All letters to the Manor House are delivered
locked in a bag. They always have been since
the Flood, I believe, or at least since the
invention of the postal service. And, of course,
father won’t have it altered, So every morning
there’s the ritual of unlocking this absurd bag.
No one is allowed to do that but father--unless
he is ill. Then mother has the privilege. And
of course he. scrutinizes the outside of every
letter and directly it’s opened asks who it’s
from and what’s inside it. Your letters would
have been noticed at once.
MONTY
How beastly!
JANET
The penalty of having nothing to do, Monty.
MONTY
I know. What a mess the whole thing is!
JANET
Just so. No. There was no way out of it except
the hat-shop.
MONTY
_(remorsefully)_
It’s awfully rough on you, Janet.
JANET
Never mind. I dare say I wasn’t cut out for
the wife of a subaltern, Monty; whereas I make
excellent hats.
MONTY
_(savagely)_
You’re still making the d------d things?
JANET
Yes. Only at another shop. The Regent Street
place had no room for me when I was well enough
to go back to work. But the woman who kept it
gave me a recommendation to a friend who was
starting in Hanover Street. A most superior
quarter for a hatshop, Monty. In fact _the_
superior quarter. Claude et Cie was the name.
(Monty _(rather shocked)_
A _French_ shop?
JANET
No more French than you are, Monty. It was kept
by a Miss Hicks, one of the most thoroughly
British people you can possibly imagine. But we
called ourselves Claude et Cie in order to be
able to charge people more for their hats. You
can always charge fashionable women more for
their clothes if you pretend to be French. It’s
one of the imbecilities of commerce. So poor
dear Miss Hicks became Madame Claude and none of
our hats cost less than seven guineas.
MONTY
Do people buy hats at such a price?
JANET
Oh yes. Everybody in Society bought them. Claude
et Cie was quite the rage that Season. Nobody
who was anybody went anywhere else.
MONTY
She must have made a great deal of money.
JANET
On the contrary. She made nothing at all and
narrowly escaped bankruptcy.
MONTY
But I don’t understand. If her hats were so dear
and everybody bought them?
JANET
Everybody _bought_ them but nobody _paid_ for
them. In the highest social circles I believe
people never do pay for anything--certainly not
for their clothes. At least, nobody paid Miss
Hicks, and at the end of six months she was owed
£1,200 and hadn’t a penny to pay her rent.
MONTY
Why didn’t she _make_ them pay.
JANET
She did dun them, of course, but they only
ordered more hats to keep her quiet which didn’t
help Miss Hicks much. And when she went on
dunning them they said they should withdraw
their custom. In fact, she was in a dilemma. If
she let the bills run on she couldn’t pay her
rent. And if she asked her customers to pay
their bills they ceased to be customers.
MONTY
How beastly!
JANET
Not again, Monty!
MONTY
What _did_ she do?
JANET
She didn’t do anything. She was too depressed.
She used to sit in the back room where the
hats were trimmed and weep over the materials,
regardless of expense. Finally things came to a
crisis. The landlord threatened to distrain for
his rent. But just as it looked as if it was all
over with Claude et Cie a capitalist came to the
rescue. _I_ was the capitalist.
MONTY
You?
JANET
Yes. I’d an old Aunt once who was fond of me
and left me a legacy when I was seventeen. Four
hundred pounds.
MONTY
That wouldn’t go very far.
JANET
Four hundred pounds goes a longish way towards
setting up a shop. Besides, it was nearly five
hundred by that time. My shares had gone up.
Well, I and my five hundred pounds came to the
rescue. I paid the rent and the most clamorous
of the creditors, and Miss Hicks and I became
partners.
MONTY
But what was the good of that if the business
was worth nothing?
JANET
It was worth several hundred pounds to any
one, who had the pluck to sue half the British
aristocracy. I sued them. It was tremendous
fun. They were simply furious. They talked as if
they’d never been sued before! As for Miss Hicks
she wept more than ever and said I’d ruined the
business.
MONTY
Hadn’t you?
JANET
That business. Yes. But with the £1,200--or as
much of it as we could recover--we started a
new one. A cheap hat-shop. Relatively cheap that
is-for Hanover Street. We charged two guineas
a hat instead of seven, 100 per cent, profit
instead of... You can work it out for yourself.
But then our terms were strictly cash, so we
made no bad debts. That was my idea.
MONTY
But you said nobody ever paid for their hats.
JANET
Not in the highest social circles. But we drew
our customers from the middle classes who live
in South Kensington and Bayswater, and are not
too haughty to pay for a hat if they see a cheap
one.
MONTY
But wasn’t it a frightful risk?
JANET
_(cheerfully)_
It was a risk, of course. But everything in life
is a risk, isn’t it? And it succeeded, as I felt
sure it would. We’re quite a prosperous concern
nowadays, and I go over to Paris four times a
year to see the latest fashions. That, my dear
Monty, is the history of Claude et Cie.
[_Pause._
MONTY
And you’ve never married, Janet?
JANET
No.
MONTY {hesitates)
Is it because...?
JANET
Because?
MONTY
Because you still care for me?
JANET
Monty, don’t be vain.
MONTY
_(repelled)_
I didn’t mean it like that. Janet, don’t laugh.
Of course, I’m glad if you don’t care any more.
At least, I suppose I ought to be glad. It would
have been dreadful if you had gone on caring all
these years and I not known. But did you?
JANET
No, Monty, I didn’t. You may set your mind at
rest.
MONTY
You’re sure?
JANET
Quite. I had too many other things to think of.
MONTY
Do you mean that beastly shop?
JANET
_(quietly)_
I meant my baby.
MONTY
_Our_ baby. Is it alive?
JANET
Of course. What do you mean, Monty?
MONTY
I thought, as you didn’t say... _(thoughtfully)_
Poor little beast! _(Janet makes gesture of
protest.)_ Well, it’s rough luck on the
little beggar, isn’t it? What’s become of him,
Janet?
JANET
What’s _become_ of him! My dear Monty, what
should have become of him? He’s quite alive as I
said and particularly thriving.
MONTY
Do you mean he’s _living_ with you!.. But, of
course, I forgot, you’re supposed to be married.
JANET
_(correcting him)_
A widow, Monty. An inconsolable widow!
MONTY
Where is he? In London?
JANET
No. As a matter of fact he’s probably not fifty
yards away. Over there.
[_Points towards the wood._
MONTY
_(jumping up)_
Janet! _(nervously looking round)_.
JANET
_(rallying him)_
Frightened, Monty?
MONTY
Of course not _(shamefacedly)_
JANET
Just a little?
MONTY
_(regaining courage)_
Janet, let me see him.
JANET
_(amused)_
Would you like to?
MONTY
Of course I should. He’s _my_ baby as well as
yours if it comes to that. Do call him, Janet.
JANET
All right, _(calls)_ Johnny! _(pause)_ John...
ny! _[‘To Monty)_ You mustn’t tell him, you
know.
MONTY
Of course not.
JOHNNY
_(off r.)_
Yes, Mummie.
JANET
Come here for a minute. Mother wants to speak to
you.
JOHNNY
_(off)_
Very well, Mummie. _(Enters r.)_ Oh, Mummie,
I’ve found such a lot of rabbits. You must come
and see them. _(Seeing Monty for the first time,
stares at him.)_ Oh!
MONTY
Come here, youngster. Come and let me look
at you. _(Johnny goes to him slowly. Monty,
grasping both hands, draws him to him, looking
at him long and keenly.)_ He’s like you, Janet.
JANET
Is he?
MONTY
Yes. He has your eyes. So your name’s Johnny,
young man?
JOHNNY
Yes.
MONTY
Well, Johnny, will you give me a kiss? _(Monty
leans forward. He does so.)_ That’s right.
JOHNNY
And now, Mummie, come and look at my rabbits.
JANET
Not yet, dear. Mother’s busy just now.
JOHNNY
May I go back to them then?
JANET
Yes.
MONTY
Suppose I won’t let you go?
JOHNNY
I’ll make you--and so will Mummie.
MONTY
Plucky little chap. Off with you.
[_Kisses him again, then releases his hands.
Johnny trots off r. again. Monty follows him
with his eyes. Pause._
JANET
Well, Monty, what do you think of him?
MONTY
_(enthusiastic)_
I think he’s _splendid_.
JANET
_(proudly)_
Isn’t he? And such a sturdy little boy. He
weighed ten pounds before he was a month old.
I say, Janet.
MONTY
_(shyly)_
JANET
Yes?
MONTY
_(hesitates)_
You’ll let me kiss you once more, won’t you? For
the last time?... _(she hesitates)_. You don’t
mind?
JANET
_(heartily)_ .
Of course not, Monty. You’re not _married_ yet,
you know.
MONTY
JANET! My dear, dear Janet!
[_Seizes her and kisses her fiercely._
JANET
_(releasing herself gently)_
That’s enough, Monty.
MONTY
_(remorsefully)_
I’m afraid I behaved like an awful brute to you,
Janet.
JANET
_(lightly)_
Oh no.
MONTY
Yes, I did. I ought to have married you. I ought
to marry you still. On account of the boy.
JANET
_(quite matter of fact)_
Oh well, you can’t do that now in any case, can
you --as you’re engaged to Bertha Aldenham.
MONTY
You’ve heard about that? Who told you?
JANET
A worthy lady called Miss Deanes.
MONTY
I know. A regular sickener.
JANET
My dear Monty!
MONTY
Sorry.
JANET
She brought the good news. The very day I
arrived as it happened. We’ve hardly talked of
anything else at the Manor House since--except
father’s illness, of course.
MONTY
Why?
JANET
What else is there to talk about--in Brendon?
MONTY
That’s true. Isn’t it... _(stops himself, looks
at watch. Whistles.)_ Whew! [_Rises._
JANET
What is it, Monty?
MONTY
I say, Janet, I wonder if you’d mind going now?
Why?
JANET
[_She rises too._
MONTY
_(awkwardly)_
Well, the fact is I’m expecting some one here
directly. I...
JANET
Bertha?
MONTY
Yes. I was to meet her here at the stile at six.
JANET
_Our_ stile, Monty.
MONTY
Yes,... You don’t mind, do you--about my asking
you to go, I mean?
JANET
_(sitting again)_
Not in the least.
MONTY
But you’re not going?
JANET
Why should I go?
MONTY
Oh, well, I thought-----
JANET
That it wouldn’t be quite suitable for us to
meet?
MONTY
I didn’t mean that, of course. But I thought you
mightn’t like--I mean it might be painful...
[_Sits again._
JANET
For me to see her? On the contrary, I’m dying to
see her.
MONTY
Janet, sometimes I think you’re not quite human.
JANET
My dear boy, I’m extremely human--and therefore
curious _(pause)_. What’s she like, Monty? Now,
I mean. She promised to be pretty.
MONTY
She is pretty, I suppose _(pause)_. I wonder if
Bertha and I will ever have a son like Johnny!
JANET
Let’s hope so, Monty. For Bertha’s sake.
MONTY
Isn’t that some one coming? _(pause, listens)_,
I expect it’s she _(rising hastily and advancing
towards stile)_. Is that you, Bertha?
BERTHA
_(at stile)_
Oh! There you are. Yes. Isn’t it hot? _(entering
by gate which he opens for her)_. Am I punctual?
_(with a cry)_ Janet! When did you come home?
[_Goes to her eagerly._
JANET
_(shaking hands)_
Only three days ago.
[_Bertha kisses her._
BERTHA
_Only_ three days! And you’ve never been up to
see us.
JANET
I know. But with father ill
BERTHA
Of course. I understand. I was only joking. How
is Mr. De Mullin?
JANET
Much better. Not well yet, of course. But he
gets stronger every day.
BERTHA
I’m so glad. I say, Janet, do you remember when
you used to teach us French?
JANET
Yes.
BERTHA
I was awfully troublesome, I remember.
MONTY
I expect you were an awful duffer at it too,
Bertha.
BERTHA
What cheek!
MONTY
Wasn’t she, Ja--_(pulls himself up)_ Miss De
Mullin?
[_Janet smiles nervously._
Oh, yes.
BERTHA
I didn’t know you’d met Janet, Monty? Why didn’t
you tell us?
[_Quite unsuspicious of anything wrong. Merely
curious._
MONTY
It was some time ago.
BERTHA
_(surprised)_
Not at Brendon? You’ve never been at Brendon
before.
MONTY
No. It was at Weymouth. I was there getting over
typhoid years ago.
BERTHA
I remember, you told me. Eight or nine years
ago, wasn’t it?
MONTY
Yes _(looks at watch)_. I say, Bertha, we must
be off if we’re not to be late.
BERTHA
Give me two minutes to rest. The weather’s
simply stifling.
MONTY
Rot! It’s quite cool.
BERTHA
Then you must have been sitting here a long
time. I’ve been walking along a dusty road and
I’m not going to start yet. Besides I want to
know all about you two meeting. Were you staying
at Weymouth, Janet?
JANET
Oh no. I just bicycled over. Mr. Bulstead ran
into me.
MONTY
I like that. She ran into _me_.
JANET
Anyhow my front wheel buckled and he had to help
me to put it right.
BERTHA
What gallantry!
MONTY
It was. The beastly thing took about half an
hour. By the time it was over we seemed to
have known each other for a lifetime _(looks
at watch)_. Two minutes is up. Time to start,
Bertha.
BERTHA
It isn’t.
MONTY
It is. You’ll be late for dressing to a
certainty if you don’t go.
BERTHA
I like that. I can dress as quickly as you if it
comes to that.
MONTY
Oh no. I can dress in ten minutes. I’ll give you
a quarter of an hour’s start and be down in the
drawing-room five minutes before you’re ready.
Is it a bet?
BERTHA
Done. In sixpences. _(To Janet)_ I’m staying at
the Park for a few days longer, Janet. Come up
and see me, won’t you?
JANET
_(uncomfortably)_
I’m afraid I can’t promise. On account of
father.
BERTHA
Well, after I’ve gone home then. Mother will
want to see you. And so will Helen. And now I
suppose I really must go. Come along, Monty.
MONTY
Not I. I needn’t go for a quarter of an hour.
You have a quarter of an hour’s start.
BERTHA
All right. Good-bye, Janet _(kisses her)_. You
won’t forget about coming as soon as you can? I
go back home on Thursday.
JANET
I won’t forget. Good-bye. [_Bertha goes off
through the wood. Janet watches her go and there
is a pause._) Yes, she _is_ pretty, Monty. Very
pretty.
MONTY
_(nods)_
You don’t mind?
JANET
Her being pretty? Of course not. It’s a
justification.
MONTY
A justification?
JANET
For forgetting me
MONTY
_(impulsively, seizing her hands)_
Janet, I’ve never done that. You know I haven’t.
JANET
_(drawing back)_
No, Monty. Not again. [_Pause._
MONTY
I say, I as nearly as possible called you Janet
right out before Bertha.
JANET
So I saw. You _did_ call me Miss De Mullin, by
the way,--which wasn’t very clever of you.
MONTY
Did I? What an ass I am! But I don’t suppose she
noticed.
JANET
I dare say not. _(A shrill cry comes from the
wood on the right. Then silence. Janet starts
up.)_ What was that?
MONTY
I don’t know.
JANET
It sounded like a child. Where did it come from?
Over here, didn’t it?
MONTY
I think so.
JANET
_(alarmed)_
I hope Johnny... I must go and see... _(A moment
later Johnny runs in, sobbing, followed by Mrs.
De Mullin and Bertha.)_ Johnny! What is it, my
sweetheart?
[_Runs to him._
JOHNNY
Oh, Mummie, Mummie, I was running after the
rabbits and I tripped over some nettles and they
stung me.
MRS. DE MULLIN
He put his foot in a hole, Janet. He fell just
as I met Bertha _(shakes hands with Monty)_. How
do you do Mr. Bulstead.
JANET
There! There! my pet. Did it hurt very much?
Mother shall kiss it and make it well.
JOHNNY (sobs)
Oh-h-h--- [_Does so._
BERTHA
Is he your son?
JANET
Yes. Don’t cry any more, dear. Brave boys don’t
cry, you know.
JOHNNY
_(gasps)_
It h-hurts so.
JANET
I know. But crying won’t make it hurt less, will
it? So you must dry your eyes. Come now.
JOHNNY
All right, Mummie.
[_Stills sobs gradually._
BERTHA
_(astonished)_
I’d no idea you were married, Janet.
JANET
Hadn’t you?
BERTHA
No. When was it?
JANET
Eight years ago. Nearly nine. To Mr. Seagrave.
BERTHA
Is he down here with you?
JANET
No. My husband died soon after our marriage.
BERTHA
Poor Janet. I’m so sorry _(pause)_. And it was
before your marriage that Monty met you?
JANET
How do you know?
BERTHA
_(quite unsuspicious)_
He called you Miss De Mullin.
JANET
Of course.
MRS. DE MULLIN
_(pricking up her ears
suspiciously at this.)_
I didn’t know you had met my daughter before,
Mr. Bulstead.
BERTHA
Nor did I. They met down at Weymouth quite by
chance eight or nine years ago.
MRS. DE MULLIN
_(gravely)_
Indeed?
MONTY
Yes... I say, Bertha, excuse my interrupting
you. but we really must be off now if we’re not
to be late.
BERTHA
You want to win that bet!
MONTY
The bet’s off. There’s no time to give you any
start. I must come too or I shan’t be in time
myself and the Governor will simply curse.
BERTHA
Is Mr. Bulstead _very_ fierce if people are late
for dinner?
MONTY
Simply beastly.
BERTHA
How very unpleasant! I wonder if I’m wise to
marry into the family?
[_Shaking hands merrily with Mrs. DeMullin and
Janet. Then goes off r., laughing merrily._
MONTY
_(sardonically)_
I wonder _(shakes hands with Mrs. De Mullin and
Janet)_. Will you give me a kiss, old chap?
[_To Johnny._
JOHNNY
That’s three times.
[_Monty nods._
[_Monty follows Bertha off r. A long pause. Mrs.
De Mullin looks fixedly at Janet. Janet looks at
the ground._
MRS. DE MULLIN
_(slowly)_
Mr. Montague Bulstead seems unusually fond of
children, Janet.
JANET
Does he, mother?
[_She does not look up._
MRS. DE MULLIN
Yes. Johnny is rather old to be kissed by
strangers.
JANET
I supposed he kissed him because he was brave
about being stung.
MRS. DE MULLIN
He seems to have kissed him before. Twice.
JANET
I dare say. I didn’t notice.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Johnny did, apparently.
JANET
Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, does it? _(Looks
up defiantly. Meets her mother’s eyes full on
her)_ Why do you look at me like that, mother?
MRS. DE MULLIN
Send Johnny away for a little, Janet. I want to
speak to you.
JANET
I’d rather not, mother. He might hurt himself
again.
MRS. DE MULLIN
He will be quite safe. Run away, Johnny. But
don’t go too far.
JOHNNY
All right, grandmother.
[_Johnny trots off into the wood. Pause._
JANET
_(defiantly)_
Well, mother?
MRS. DE MULLIN
Janet, why did you never tell us you had met Mr.
Bulstead before?
JANET
When?
MRS. DE MULLIN
Any time during the last three days, when we
were speaking of his engagement.
JANET
I’d forgotten all about it, mother.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Indeed? And why didn’t you tell us eight years
ago, when you met him at Weymouth, when you were
still “Miss De Mullin”?
JANET
Mother, don’t badger me like this. If you want
to ask me anything ask it.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Janet, Mr. Bulstead is Johnny’s father.
JANET
Mr. Bulstead? Absurd!
MRS. DE MULLIN
Then why did you pretend not to have met him?
Why did you conceal the fact of your meeting
him from us eight years ago? And why has
he concealed the fact from Bertha and the
Bulsteads?
[_Pause._
JANET
_(resignedly)_
Very well, mother, if you’re determined to know
you must know. Yes, he’s Johnny’s father.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Oh, Janet!
JANET
_(irritably)_
Well, mother, if you didn’t want to know you
shouldn’t have asked. I told you not to
worry me. _(Mrs. De Mullin begins to cry.
Remorsefully,)_
There, there, mother! Don’t cry. I’m sorry I was
cross to you. Don’t let’s talk any more about
it.
MRS. DE MULLIN
_(snuffling)_
No, Janet, we _must_ talk about it. There’s no
use trying to hide things any longer. You must
tell me the truth.
JANET
Much better not, mother. It won’t give you any
pleasure to hear.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Still, I’d rather know, Janet.
JANET
_(shrugs)_
As you please. What do you want me to tell you?
Mrs. De Mullin
Everything. How did you come to be at Weymouth?
I don’t remember your staying at Weymouth eight
years ago.
JANET
I wasn’t staying there. But Monty was.
MRS. DE MULLIN
_(shocked)_
Monty!
JANET
Mr. Bulstead. Oh, what _does_ it matter now?
He’d had typhoid and was there to recruit. I’d
ridden over on my bicycle...
MRS. DE MULLIN
_(lamentably)_
Bicycle! I always said it was all through
bicycling.
JANET
_(another shrug)_
He ran into me, or I ran into him. I was rather
shaken, and he asked me to come in and rest.
It happened close to the house where he was
lodging.
MRS. DE MULLIN
You went in! To his lodgings! A man you had
never met before!
JANET
My dear mother, when you have been thrown off
a bicycle, ordinary conventions cease to apply.
Besides, as a matter of fact, we _had_ met once
before--the day before, in fact.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Where?
JANET
Here. By this very stile. Monty was riding past
and he asked me the way to somewhere--Thoresby,
I think. I was standing by the stile. Next day I
happened to ride into Weymouth. We collided--and
the rest you know.
MRS. DE MULLIN
_(sternly)_
Were those the _only_ times you met him, Janet?
JANET
Of course not, mother. After the Weymouth
collision we met constantly, nearly every day.
We used to meet out riding and I had tea with
him lots of times in his rooms.
MRS. DE MULLIN
_(horrified)_
How long did this go on?
JANET
More than a month--till he left Weymouth, in
fact. Now, mother, is that all you want to know?
Because if so we’ll drop the subject.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Oh, Janet, what _will_ your father say!
JANET
Father? He won’t know.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Won’t know? But I must tell him.
JANET
Good heavens, why?
MRS. DE MULLIN
In order that Mr. Bulstead may marry you, of
course. Your father will insist on his marrying
you.
JANET
If father attempts to do that, mother, I shall
deny the whole story. And Monty will back me up.
MRS. DE MULLIN
He would never be so wicked.
JANET
He would have to if I ask him. It’s the least he
could do.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Johnny is there to prove it.
JANET
There’s nothing to prove that Monty is Johnny’s
father. Nothing whatever.
MRS. DE MULLIN
But, Janet, _why_ won’t you marry him?
JANET
_(impatiently)_
My dear mother, because I don’t want to, of
course.
MRS. DE MULLIN
You don’t _want_ to?
JANET
Great heavens, no. Why should I? Monty Bulstead
isn’t at all the sort of man I should care to
_marry_.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Why not?
JANET
Frankly, mother, because he’s not interesting
enough. Monty’s a very nice fellow and I like
him very much, but I don’t want to pass the
remainder of my life with him. If I’m to marry
anybody--and I don’t think I shall--it will have
to be a rather more remarkable person than Monty
Bulstead.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Yet you _did_ love him, Janet. You must have
loved him... then.
JANET
Oh yes. Then. But that was ages ago, before
Johnny was born. After that I didn’t care for
anybody any more except Johnny.
MRS. DE MULLIN
But, Janet, you _ought_ to marry him, for
Johnny’s sake.
JANET
Too late, mother. That should have been eight
years ago to be any use.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Better too late than not at all.
JANET
Better not at all than too late.
MRS. DE MULLIN
He seduced you, Janet.
JANET
_(thoughtfully)_
Did he? I was twenty-seven. He was twenty. If
either of us was to blame, wasn’t it I?
MRS. DE MULLIN
Janet, you’re trying to screen him.
JANET
Dearest mother, you talk like a sentimental
novel.
MRS. DE MULLIN
_(indignantly)_
And he’s to be allowed to marry Bertha Aldenham,
just as if this had never happened?
JANET
Why not? It’s not _her_ fault, is it? And
girls find it difficult enough to get married
nowadays, goodness knows.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Still, she _ought_ to be told, Janet. I think
_she must_ be told.
JANET
My dear mother, if _she_ knows everybody will
know, and the scandal will make all the dead
and gone De Mullins turn in their graves. As for
father it would simply kill him out of hand.
MRS. DE MULLIN
_(sadly)_
Poor father.
JANET
_(briskly)_
So, on the whole, I don’t think we’ll tell any
one. Come, mother, it’s time we started. _(More
kindly)_ Poor mother. Don’t fret. Perhaps Hester
will have some news to cheer you when we get
home.
MRS. DE MULLIN
Hester?
JANET
_(rallying her)_
An engagement, mother. Hester’s engagement.
Hester and Mr. Brown have been decorating
the church for the last _four_ hours. What an
opportunity for a declaration! Or don’t people
propose in church?
MRS. DE MULLIN
Janet, how can you laugh after what has
happened?
JANET
Laugh? Of course I can laugh. What else is there
to do? Let’s go home. Johnny! Johnny! _(calls)_.
[_By this time twilight is falling. A full moon
has begun to risey lighting uf the scene._
JOHNNY
_(off r.)_
Yes, Mummie.
JANET
Come along, dear. Mother’s going to start.
Johnny _(off r.)_
All right, Mummie. _(entering r.)_ Oh, Mummie,
you’ve not seen my rabbits yet!
JANET
No. It’s too dark to-night. Mother must come and
see them another time.
JOHNNY
You won’t forget, will you, Mummie? _(looking
at Mrs. De Mullin)_ Grandmother, you’ve been
crying. Is that because I stung myself with a
nettle?
JANET
Little egoist! Of course it is. Give your
grandmother a kiss and we’ll all walk home
together.
[_Mrs. De Mullin stoop and kisses Johnny
passionately. They go off through the gate and
the curtain falls._