MAR. That's it!
LADY P. And animal spirits, are proof against all temperatures.
MAR. Lord! how fine you do talk! you'll be just the thing for my
husband--I wonder whether I shall like yours. He seems a funny old
fellow, and so grand too, and so upright, and his hair all so nicely
floured over. What did you love him for?
LADY P. To gratify the wishes of my parents; the position that my
union insured flattered and pleased me, while it removed the troubles
of my family. I am grateful, very grateful, for his lordship's
preference, I confess--but--there's----
MAR. Somebody else you like better. Well, never mind, dear, you'll
love the old one very well by and by.
_CAPTAIN BLENHEIM appears at the back--comes down, L.H._
BLEN. I am pretty punctual you see, Lady Evergreen. Is it possible?
Mary!
LADY P. Augustus!
MAR. What, do _you_ know one another too? Why, he's my husband's old
schoolfellow, and we've asked him to come and pick a bit with us
to-day. Now this is what I like--old friends all meeting together
again. Oh! won't we have a merry evening!
BLEN. I never thought to see you more.
LADY P. This meeting will be most embarrassing! I am here, with my
husband, and----
BLEN. You would wish me to retire.
MAR. I can understand--that is the one you like better, is it? Well,
never mind, dear, don't be afraid of your husband meeting him--they
won't fight, will they? and if they do, what o' that? People that
fight are often the best friends in the world when it's all over.
BLEN. If you _request_ me to leave the house, I can only obey.
MAR. No, no, you mustn't go--take him to your husband and say right
out, "My dear, this is my old sweetheart, and you must not be jealous,
and though I did like him once, what o' that? I'm your wife now, and
he can only be a friend, and there's no harm in a friend coming to see
me." Be upright and downright, my dear--it's the best way--for where
there's nothing concealed nothing can pop out.
LADY P. There are positions that exact great discretion from us--that
absolutely render concealment a necessity, if only to avoid those
explanations and confessions that _must_ lead to mortification, if not
to unhappiness.
BLEN. May I not exchange one word with you?
LADY P. If you will then immediately leave me, defer your visit here
till another day, and not expose me to an embarrassment that will be
most painful. Where's my lord?
MAR. I don't know, aunt--he's somewhere about.
LADY P. In the house?
MAR. I think so--talking over the state of the nation with my husband.
LADY P. I must seek him instantly. (_to BLENHEIM_) Pray do not follow
me. (_to MARGERY_) Say nothing of this meeting, I beg.
BLEN. Listen to me but for one moment, and I will do all that you
desire.
_LADY PLATO goes up the Stage as if uncertain which way to go, till
she hurries off by the R.H. door, followed by BLENHEIM._
MAR. Well, I say nothing, but if aunt really wants to find her husband
she's gone quite the wrong way, and I'm to say nothing about it. Well,
I'm no tell-tale, but I don't like it. (_goes to the flower-stand,
L.H., and trims the flowers_) Lord bless us! what a deal o' trouble
people get themselves into when once they begin having secrets from
one another.
_COUSIN JOE appears at the back._
JOE. This must be the house--I found the gate open, and the Nag's Head
told me this was Sir William's, and he's the gentleman that married my
cousin, and---- What, Margery! lord bless us!
MAR. What, Joe, is it you? how d'ye do, Joe? Well, I am glad to see
you! (_shakes hands heartily with JOE_) More old friends meeting, but
this is the best of all. Well, and how are you, cousin Joe?
JOE. Oh, I'm very well, thank ye!
MAR. What's brought you here? come to see me?
JOE. Yes.
MAR. That's right.
JOE. I'm going up to a place in London. You see, mother knows somebody
there, and as I didn't care much about farming, and always had a kind
o' sort o' notion of being a bit of a gentleman, why, they said I was
cut out for sarvice, and the end of it is, I'm going to London to be
page to a fine lady.
MAR. Lord, Joe!
JOE. The very thing for a genteel youth like me, they say. I ain't to
wear these clothes then. No, I'm to be all over buttons, and have a
hat with gold lace, and my hair is to be curled every morning, and I'm
to carry letters in to missus on a silver plate, and walk arter her
with the lap-dog in the street, and take care nobody's sarcy to her.
MAR. Can't you stop here a day or two before you go to your place? we
would have such fun--for though my husband has often said that none of
my family must come here, as he wanted me to forget all their ways,
yet as you _are_ here, I think I could coax him to let you stop. Sit
down, Joe--here's a chair. Well, and so--and how's your mother?
JOE. Hearty.
MAR. And what's the news?--tell me all you can think of. Has Tom Dixon
married Lizzey Turvey yet?
JOE. No; they were going to be married only a week ago, and when they
got to the church Tom took fright and ran all the way home again, and
left Lizzey Turvey crying her eyes out at the porch door.
MAR. You don't say so! Well, I always said Tom was a fool. Come close,
Joe, don't be shy--and, oh Joe! how comfortable this is, to have
somebody to talk to in one's own fashion! I do feel so free and easy
again! Well, and tell me, Joe, is Dame Willows living?
JOE. No--died six months ago.
MAR. Did she leave all her money to her nephew, Jem Porter?
JOE. No, bless your life! Oh, there's such work!
MAR. Come quite close--quite close, and tell me.
JOE. You see, Jem made sure of the money, and lived in such
style--bought a horse and shay, and went to races, and played
nine-pins--when, lo and behold! the old lady died and he found it was
all left to a smooth-faced fellow that nobody never heard on, that got
somehow or other into the old lady's good books and she had it writ
down. It was all because Jem one day kicked her favorite dog, that
used to fly at everybody's legs--now the dog's gone to live with a
baker, and Jem's in prison for debt.
MAR. And Harry Bacon, what's become of him?
JOE. Gone to sea, because Mary Brown took up with a tailor what opened
a shop from London. And you recollect Tom Hammer the blacksmith?
MAR. Yes.
JOE. Well, if he ain't gone and bought all Merryweather's pigs I'm a
Dutchman! And Merryweather's gone to America, and the eldest
daughter's married Sam Holloway the cutler, and folks say it ain't a
good match, because he was a widow with three children all ready and
she might have had Master Pollard the schoolmaster, and he's gone and
turned serious and won't let the boys play at no games, and so they're
all going away to a new man that'll let 'em do just what they like;
and Will Twig has been found out stealing chickens, and he's in
prison; and Johnny Trotter the postman has opened a grocer's shop; and
they've pulled down the old parsonage and are building a new 'un; and
the doctor's got a large lamp over his door with big blue and red
bull's eyes; and there's a new beadle, and all the parish children
have got the hooping-cough, and Mrs. Jenkins' cow's dead, and--that's
all!
MAR. Oh, Joe! I can shut my eyes and see everything and everybody
you've been talking about, oh so plain! and to see you again does seem
so like old times.
JOE. And didn't we have games? when you used to climb up the
cherry-tree, and call out to me, "Joe, come and help me, or I shall
tumble down and break something!"
MAR. Yes! and Joe, when my father used to take you and I to market,
and we used to sit at the bottom of the cart and eat apples!
JOE. And when sometimes I used to try to give you a kiss, what knocks
on my nose you used to give me!
MAR. Ah! didn't I?
JOE. And when I got savage how I used to kick you wi' my hob-nail
shoes! Oh! how friendly we was--wasn't we?
MAR. And how we did sing!
JOE. And dance!
MAR. And were so happy!
JOE. Oh, Margery!
MAR. Oh, Joe!
_JOE catches her in his arms and kisses her--At the same moment, SIR
WILLIAM and LORD PLATO appear at the back, and stand in astonishment._
SIR W. Heavens!
PLATO. Sir William!
MAR. (_to JOE_) Don't go away--it's only my husband.
SIR W. Who is this fellow, and what is he doing here?
_JOE, still seated, stares at SIR WILLIAM and makes him a bow--SIR
WILLIAM repeats the question._
MAR. It's my cousin Joe. He was only giving me a kiss just now--and I
was so glad to see him, and he was so glad to see me, that we--we
couldn't help it.
JOE. No, we couldn't help it.
PLATO. Exceedingly ingenious!
SIR W. (_to MARGERY_) Oblige me by retiring to your room--and you,
fellow, leave this place immediately.
MAR. Don't send him away yet--we haven't had half a talk together.
JOE. No, we haven't had half a talk together.
MAR. Don't you go, Joe.
JOE. I don't mean to!
SIR W. Your conduct, Madam, is most unbecoming! you forget your
station--you forget that you are my wife!
MAR. I'm sure I don't, and I'm sure you take good care that I sha'n't.
JOE. You take good care that she sha'n't.
MAR. Hold your tongue, Sir! how dare you speak? I won't be tethered so
tight any longer, I can tell you--and I _will_ be myself again! I've
tried to be somebody else, and I can't, and I'll go and put on my old
country clothes again--for I've no comfort in these--and then I can do
as I like--kiss Joe, and you, and even that old gentleman--though I
shouldn't much like it.
JOE. (_after staring at LORD PLATO_) I shouldn't like to kiss him.