opening on garden. Adam Cherry and Mr. Ben Dixon are sitting talking._
MR. BEN DIXON.
You see, my dear sir, this is not an ordinary worldly speculation. We
are promoting this company--myself and a few Christian friends--not
merely to earn an income for our shareholders--though that we shall do,
Mr. Cherry, that we shall do--but also to benefit humanity at large.
Think, Mr. Cherry, what a grand thing it will be to be helping the good
cause--to be doing good among one's fellow-creatures--and at a profit,
Mr. Cherry--at a very handsome profit--that's the beauty of the scheme.
Mr. Cherry, as a man not altogether inexperienced in these matters, I
say that never--never before has such an opportunity been presented to
the investing public of combining the earthly comfort of a certain 15
per cent, dividend with the ennobling--I say the ennobling--satisfaction
of furthering the cause of Heaven.
ADAM CHERRY.
Well, to be perfectly frank with you, Mr. Ben Dixon, I am thinking more
of the earthly than of the heavenly part of it. I hope I try to do my
bit of good in the world, but I never mix the two things up. When I
invest my money, what I think about is the return.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Quite right, Mr. Cherry, quite right. We--myself and the other
directors--are, perhaps, a little too etherial in these matters. We need
among us such a man as yourself, Mr. Cherry--you will join our hoard,
Mr. Cherry? You will give us the benefit of your experience-- of your
grasp of business?
ADAM CHERRY.
(_Pleased_.) Well, if you really think I could be of any help----
MR. BEN DIXON.
Think it! My dear sir, you are the very man we want. I think, Mr.
Cherry--I think you suggested put-ting £8,000 into the affair?
ADAM CHERRY.
Yes, Mr. Ben Dixon. It is a big sum for me. In fact--in fact, it
represents nearly all my savings. But the scheme seems a very safe one.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Mr. Cherry do you think that I would allow you to put your money in this
thing if I did not know that it was safe? How can we fail! We have
the Lord Mayor. (_Confidentially._) I am even in hopes of having the
Archbishop of Canterbury. Besides, look at the scheme itself. We buy
up and amalgamate all the leading manufactories of temperance drinks
throughout the kingdom. My dear sir, do you know the amount that is
spent every year in this country on lemonade and ginger-beer alone?
ADAM CHERRY.
Oh, I am quite with you, Mr. Ben Dixon. The business ought to be a good
one.
MR. BEN DIXON.
It _is_ a good one. It shall be a better one. Mr. Cherry, in a few
years' time we shall not be earning our 15 per cent., no, nor our 30
per cent., but our 100 per cent., and you shall be with us. Here, Mr.
Cherry, is an application form. (_He has put it all ready_.) I will make
it a personal matter that the full number of shares shall be allotted to
you.
ADAM CHERRY.
(_Who has risen, comes to desk. Ben Dixon puts a pen into his hand. He
hesitates._) They--they do say one should not put all one's eggs into
one basket.
MR. BEN DIXON.
It depends upon the basket I suppose. I should say it would be better
to put them all into one sound basket than in half-a-dozen risky ones.
(_Laughs._)
ADAM CHERRY.
Yes, that's quite right--quite right. You see I do want a big dividend.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Of course you do--we all do--I mean it is very natural for _you_ to do
so.
ADAM CHERRY.
Of course, before it did not matter. But now, Mr. Ben Dixon--now that
I'm going to be married I wish if possible to be able to retire from
business altogether, and that, of course, with my small capital I could
not do unless--
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Stopping him_.) Mr. Cherry, I will be frank with you. You speak of the
very matter that has been in my mind. If you had come to us two or three
months ago, and had asked for these shares I should have said "No." I
should have said to my brother directors: This is a safe and brilliant
scheme, let us keep it to ourselves. Why should we admit this man among
us? Let him be content with his two and a half Goschens, his three per
cent, debentures. But now, Mr. Cherry, I think of Nelly--my dear little
Nelly--and I say, "Come." Come and share with us. That is the line for
signature, Mr. Cherry.
ADAM CHERRY.
I have every confidence, Mr. Ben Dixon, both in you and the scheme.
(_Signs_). Adam Cherry.
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Blots paper and takes it up and examines it._) Let me see. The full
amount is payable on allotment. Shall we telegraph your brokers at the
same time?
ADAM CHERRY.
Oh yes--perhaps that will be the simplest way (_takes form which Ben
Dixon hands to him, and writes._) Yes, I'll do so.
MR. BEN DIXON.
It doesn't matter, you know--doesn't matter at all. I will make myself
responsible for the amount if it's any convenience to you, Mr. Cherry.
ADAM CHERRY.
May just as well settle the matter now and have done with it. (_Finishes
telegram._) That will fix it all right I think.
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_He has folded up the application and has placed it in one of the
stamped directed envelopes he has ready. He now crosses and takes
telegram and looks at it_.) Ah, one can always tell the man of business,
Mr. Cherry--one can always tell the man of business. (_Ben Dixon has
previously rung, and now a footman enters._) Take this letter to the
post at once, and send this telegram off at the same time. Don't stop
for anything.
FOOTMAN.
Yes, sir. (_Goes out_.)
ADAM CHERRY.
Well, you don't want me any more I suppose, Mr. Ben Dixon? I think I'll
take a stroll in your pleasant garden.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Do, Mr. Cherry, do. (_Glances out of window. Then turns and shakes his
finger playfully at Adam Cherry._) Ah, you rogue--you rogue. I think I
see what makes that garden so particularly pleasant just at this moment
--Eh?
ADAM CHERRY.
(_Chuckling_.) Well, I----
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Pushes him towards windows._) Run along to her,
Mr. Cherry. Run along, I don't believe you are a day older than
five-and-twenty.
ADAM CHERRY.
A little--little--I'm afraid.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Don't believe it. I don't believe it. (_Cherry goes out, laughing. Ben
Dixon watches him out, and then turns round again. He says nothing, but
his face expresses his huge satisfaction._)
(_Enter Theodore Travers._)
MR. BEN DIXON.
Ah, my dear boy, so you've come down to see the old folks again--come
back to the old nest.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Well, you've done it, Ben.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Done what?
THEODORE TRAVERS.
You are famous at last. You've beaten me. I'm not in it with you this
week.
MR. BEN DIXON.
I have for some time enjoyed a certain reputation, I believe.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Among the few that really knew you, yes. Spreading; that's the awkward
part of it.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Wh--what do you mean? (_Beginning to grow anxious._)
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Have you seen _The Illustrated Police News_ this week?
MR. BEN DIXON.
My dear Theodore, you know I do not countenance such publications.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Um! You've countenanced it this time right enough. (_Takes "Illustrated
Police News" from his pocket, and, opening it, holds it up._) "The
Councillor and the Strong Woman. Amusing Scene at the Aquarium."
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Aghast._) Oh, my----
THEODORE TRAVERS.
(_Fixing paper in front of fable_.) It's such an excellent likeness of
you, too. I've had friends of mine in this thing before, but it's never
been a bit like 'em. This is a genuine portrait of you. No one could
mistake it.
MR. BEN DIXON.
My dear Theodore, I can explain--I can explain everything.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
You generally can. The question is, step-father, will anybody believe
you?
MR. BEN DIXON.
Let me tell you the truth.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Don't you waste time, Ben, I know it. You set to work and invent a
plausible lie before the mater finds out about it.
MR. BEN DIXON.
No, no, my dear boy. You must hear me. It--it was this way. It was the
last day we were in town. I started to go to Exeter Hall.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Yes--many do.
MR. BEN DIXON
But passing the Aquarium, it--it occurred to me----
THEODORE TRAVERS.
That it was a much more attractive place.
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Virtuously._) No, Theo--that it was my duty as a member of the
National Vigilance Society to look in and see if--if----
THEODORE TRAVERS.
If something could not be found out against it.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Precisely. I stopped the cab and went in. I mingled with the godless
throng. I even sacrificed myself so far as to speak to one or two of
them.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Ladies?
MR. BEN DIXON.
They _may_ have been. I stood them drinks--if that be the correct
expression. Not to excite suspicion, I even sipped a little here and
there myself. I endeavoured to acquire the spirit of the place.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
From all accounts, you did so to a pretty considerable extent.
MR. BEN DIXON.
It was necessary to my purpose. I went from bar to bar accumulating
material. The case was almost complete. Thinking I had had enough--done
enough for one evening, I was about to leave when somebody--who said he
was a friend of mine--suggested that we should go "behind the scenes."
He introduced me to a not unprepossessing young woman, whom he described
as the "Female Hercules." I was on the point of putting a few questions
to her, when all of a sudden a strange feeling of dizziness came over
me. To save myself from falling, I flung out my arms--as any man might
have done--and caught hold of the thing nearest to me. Unfortunately, it
was the Hercules lady. Mistaking my action, she took me up, and, before
I could explain matters, carried me out, and deposited me in the main
transept.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
(_He again takes up the paper._) The artist represents her as assisting
you by the scruff of the neck, and other things.
MR. BEN DIXON.
It may have been so. I was too much upset to notice details.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
And then the Aquarium attendants completed the business by chucking you
out into the street.
MR. BEN DIXON.
I deny it. I was not chucked. 'They perceived that I was unwell, and led
me out into the air.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Where my excellent friend, the door-keeper at the Hanoverian, found you
putting pennies into a life boat box and trying to get out cigarettes.
Ben, that explanation's too thin. I expected something better from you.
MR. BEN DIXON.
You--you don't think it will do?
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Afraid not.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Perhaps you are right, Theo. The world is ever prone to think evil.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Yes; you see it's had a good deal of experience, Ben.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Dear me, it's a very awkward affair--very awkward. Does it mention the
name?
THEODORE TRAVERS.
No. Merely refers to you as "a certain guardian of the public morals."
(_Looking at the picture again._) Hardly any need to put the name in
this case. It would be an insult to the artist.
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Looking over his shoulder_.) It _is_ like me. I can see that myself.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
They've even got your smile.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Don't gloat, my boy; don't gloat over it.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
I won't. It _is_ hard lines on you. (_Throws paper down on easy-chair._)
What will you do?
MR. BEN DIXON.
I don't know. I must think. I wonder if your stepmother's seen it?
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Some friend of yours will send it to her, you bet.
MR. BEN DIXON.
It may not be noticed. You see, fortunately, it is not a paper that
circulates much in religious circles.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Not as a rule. This week will probably be an exception.
MR. BEN DIXON.
I wish you wouldn't harp so on the gloomy side of it, Theo. We will put
our trust in Providence.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
I should. I've noticed that it's generally on the side of the rogues.
(_Strolls towards window._) Don't let the thing lie about. Where's the
mater? (_Ben Dixon does not answer_.) In the garden?
MR. BEN DIXON.
Yes--no. I don't know--I don't know where she is.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Poor old Ben! (_Goes out into garden._)
MR. BEN DIXON.
If this gets about I'm done for. What can I do? If it only weren't such
a good likeness, or if there was only another member of the Vigilance
Society something like me I might put it on to him.
(_Mrs. Ben Dixon has entered. She has sat down, without noticing it, on
the paper in arm-chair_.)
I do hope Belinda won't---- (_Turns round and sees Mrs. Ben Dixon_.)
MRS. BEN DIXON.
I want a business chat with you, Ben.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Where's that paper? (_Looks frantically about for the paper_.)
MRS. BEN DIXON.
What's the matter? Lost anything?
MR. BEN DIXON.
No, oh no, my dear, nothing at all. (Aside.) Did he take it with him--or
is she sitting on it?
MRS. BEN DIXON.
I want something settled about Ted and Nelly.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Certainly, my dear, certainly. Won't you sit over here, my dear? That
chair looks so uncomfortable.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
The chair's all right. It's you who seem to be uncomfortable. (_Looks
round and sees him leaning over the back of the chair looking down into
it_.) What is it? Am I sitting on anything? (_About to rise_.)
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Rather alarmed._) No, my dear, nothing whatever. Don't you rise. It's
all right. You were speaking about those dear children, Ted and Nelly?
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Difficult to remember what one is talking about with you pirouetting
all over the place like a pantomime fairy. I wanted to talk to you about
what we could do for them.
They are going back to-morrow morning, and---- (_He peers under the
table for the paper._) I'll tell you what it is, Ben, you are doing too
much work on that Vigilance Association. It's sapping your brain. Do
give the world a rest. Let it go wrong for a bit if it wants to.
MR. BEN DIXON.
I wish I could, my dear. I worry myself too much about others, I know.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Yes, and I expect that's what the others think too. This is a case where
you can trouble yourself about other folks to some advantage--to _them_.
We must do something for those children, Ben. It was your fault they
lost their money. We must see that they get some thing back again.
MR. BEN DIXON.
But, you see, my dear, they are both so proud. To offer them help would
only be to wound them. We should never, Belinda, do anything to wound
the susceptibilities of others.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
(_Growing irritable._) I shall do something that will wound yours, Ben,
in a minute, if you've got any. There are more ways of offering people
help than by slapping them in the face with it. If the thing's done in
the right spirit they won't refuse it. I'll see to that.
MR. BEN DIXON.
But, my dear, why should we interfere at all? Dear Mr. Cherry is only
too anxious to help them. Why should we deprive that worthy man of
the exquisite pleasure of assisting them? My dear, we have no right to
--it's his first call--I mean his privilege----
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Ben, you're either a fool or you're pretending to be one. What do you
think induced that girl to accept him?
MR. BEN DIXON.
The usual thing, I suppose, my dear. Love that comes to----
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Fiddlesticks! Girls of nineteen don't marry men of fifty-five for love.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Forty-three, my dear. He told me so himself.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Forty-three, _and_ the rest. _I'm_ not a chicken, and he wore his own
beard when he played Macbeth to my child's head. He's fifty-five if he's
a day, and she's accepted him because they were both starving--small
blame to her for it. What we've got to do is to lift them out of this
poverty and give them a start, and then there'll be no need for the poor
girl to sacrifice herself.
MR. BEN DIXON.
But think of Mr. Cherry.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Oh, Cherry's an old fool, as good and kind a one as ever lived--that's
better than some of them are--but an old fool all the same. Now come,
Ben, I'm going to do my duty by poor dead Hetty's bairns, and you've got
to help me. If they were cannibals or converted acrobats with no claim
upon you whatever, you'd be eager enough to.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Precisely so, my dear. That is just it. You see, a public philanthropist
has no right to indulge in private charities. He is meant for all alike.
He embraces mankind. I embrace mankind. You find me two hundred poor
medical students with their sisters, needing assistance, and I shall
be delighted to receive subscriptions on their behalf. (_Aside_.) Oh, he
must have taken it with him.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
I don't doubt it. In this case, you're going to _give_ something to
_one_ poor medical student. The other 199 you can find for yourself.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Belinda, I cannot. It grieves me, but I cannot depart from my
principles. Charity should be like the sun----
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Yours _is_, Ben. We hear a good deal about it, but don't often see it.
We won't argue the matter. My mind's made up. I want £4,000.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Then I'm very much afraid, my dear, you will have to do what a great
many other people who want money have to do.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Do you mean, Ben, that you won't let me have it?
MR. BEN DIXON.
I mean, my dear, I cannot.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
What have you done--blued the lot?
MR. BEN DIXON.
Belinda, your vulgar expressions pain me. There is no need to be
violent. Your own little fortune is undoubtedly somewhat involved, but
so long as I have a crust----
MRS. BEN DIXON.
I don't want your crusts. I want to know what you've done with all my
money. There was a tidy bit of it, and you've had the entire control of
it--more fool me. What have you done with it?
MR. BEN DIXON.
I manipulated it, my dear, to the best of my poor ability.
Unfortunately, Heaven has not----
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Oh! drop that. I'm tired of your Heaven. It's enough to set anyone
against the place always hearing of it in your company. Let's understand
the thing plainly. Haven't I got a penny of my own?
MR. BEN DIXON.
Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that, my dear, but----
MRS. BEN DIXON.
But not much more, I expect. Oh, you villain! _You_
old---- (_He has been standing in one of his customary stained-glass
attitudes close to door. Mrs. Ben Dixon with her last sentence rises as
if to come to him. In an instant he slips through door, and closes it
behind him softly._)
MRS. BEN DIXON.
It serves me right. It serves me right. (_Enter Primrose from window_.)
Oh, my dear child, don't you ever marry. It's only your money they want
to get hold of.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
Oh, I'm _sure_ he doesn't.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
_He!_ Lord help the child, you haven't done it already, have you?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_Confused_.) Oh no--no--I--I meant----
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Don't trust him. Don't trust any of 'em. Have it all settled on
yourself, and keep your own eye on it. Oh, to think what a fool I've
been!
(_Nelly has entered, followed by Cherry._)
NELLY MORRIS.
What's the matter, aunt? You're worried about something?
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Worried! I'm not worried. I'm mad!
NELLY MORRIS.
What's wrong, aunt?
MRS. BEN DIXON.
What's wrong! Ask what's right! That's the shortest question to answer.
Oh, my dear child, your uncle's a villain, and I'm a born idiot, and
everything's going wrong for everybody, and I can't help anybody.
(_Leans on Nelly's shoulder and begins to half cry._)
NELLY MORRIS.
What is it, auntie, dear?
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Don't ask me, my dear. Don't anybody ask me anything. I can't tell you.
Oh that Belinda Greggs could ever develop into such a first prize fool!
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_She has been sitting on arm of easy-chair, and has taken up the
paper_) Oh, here's a portrait of Mr. Ben Dixon.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
(_Glances round and sees a paper in Primrose's hand_) What in? _The
Young Man's Christian Herald_, I suppose, under the heading of "Shining
Lights"?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
No--no, it's (_reading_) _The Illustrated Police News_.
The what?
MRS. BEN DIXON.
NELLY MORRIS.
Oh, impossible, Primrose, you must----
(_Takes the paper and suddenly becomes silent_)
MRS. BEN DIXON.
(_Snatches it from Nelly, looks at it, then crosses over to Cherry_)
Cherry, what do you make of this?
ADAM CHERRY.
(_Takes paper and reads_) "The Councillor and the Strong Woman."
The--the gentleman is certainly very much like him.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
The whole thing is like him.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_To Nelly_.) Do you think it _is_ Mr. Ben Dixon?
NELLY MORRIS.
I can't say. I didn't look at it very closely. Come upstairs, dear, and
show me your new hat, will you?
(_The two girls go off talking._)
ADAM CHERRY.
It can't be, you know.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
But there he is. What does it say about it?
ADAM CHERRY.
"The Councillor at the Aquarium. A shameful spectacle (see illustration)
was witnessed by our artist at the Aquarium on Monday evening last. A
certain guardian of the public morals, well known as a philanthropist,
and a member of the Vigilance Society----"
MRS. BEN DIXON
That's Ben right enough. There can't be two of 'em. Go on.
ADAM CHERRY
"Appears to have thought fit to visit this place of entertainment on
the evening in question. Not content with insulting various respectable
people among the audience, he proceeded, in company with his degraded
companions, to force his way behind the scenes. There, meeting Mdlle.
Bruno, the Female Hercules, and pretending to recognise her as his
long-lost cousin, he immediately threw his arms around the lady's neck,
and endeavoured to kiss her. Fortunately, Mdlle. Bruno is a lady well
able to protect herself. Taking the villain up by the collar of his
coat and the------ (_Sinks his voice._) she promptly carried him out and
handed him over to the Aquarium officials, who finally rid the building
of his presence by the simple but effective process known as chucking.
We trust that----"
MRS. BEN DIXON.
That will do. That's enough. I wonder if I'm going to find out anything
more about him to-day?
ADAM CHERRY.
It's impossible. There's been a mistake.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
There has been, and I'm the poor ninny that's made it.
ADAM CHERRY.
If anyone had asked me for my ideal of respectability--
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Respectability! Man alive, don't talk about it. The very sound of the
word makes me ill. It's been my curse from a child. I refused to play
hopscotch at eight years old because I thought it wasn't respectable,
and went sliding instead and was nearly drowned. It was I who persuaded
poor father to give up the fried-fish shop because fried fish wasn't
respectable, and he went into oysters and ruined himself in a year. I
was earning twenty pounds a week at the Halls, and what did I do? Threw
it up and went on the stage as principal boy at five pounds--all to be
respectable. And then the stage wasn't respectable enough for me, so I
married Travers, and _he_ wasn't respectable enough for me. And what
has it all ended in? What has this insatiable craving for respectability
brought me to? Why, I'm the wife of a man who has been chucked--chucked
from the Aquarium.
ADAM CHERRY
It is certainly very disappointing.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
And that's not all.
ADAM CHERRY
What! Has he been chucked from somewhere else too?
MRS. BEN DIXON
No--at least, not that I know of. I mean that's not the worst that I've
found out. I couldn't tell that poor child, but, Cherry, I'm ruined.
He's swindled me out of all my fortune--all the money that Travers left
me. I haven't a penny left to call my own.
ADAM CHERRY.
Belinda! For Heaven's sake don't say he's a swindler.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Why not? He is my own husband. I suppose I can say what I like about
him. Let's have _some_ consolation. (_Noticing Cherry's distraction._)
What's the matter with you?
ADAM CHERRY.
(_Wildly._) He's got £8,000 of my money. Nearly all I have. I've put it
all into a company of his.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
(_Aghast_.) You? Oh, why did I bring you down here? Oh, you poor lamb!
Oh, what a miserable woman I am!
(_Enter Theodore._)
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Ah, step-mater, I've been looking all over the place for you. (_Noticing
the open paper on the floor where Cherry has dropped it, and, taking in
the facts, he looks from one to the other. Then picks up paper, folds
it, and puts in his pocket._) Finding out the truth about Ben, I see.
Always a very painful matter finding out the truth about people.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Theodore, your step-father's a scoundrel.
THEODORE TRAVERS.
Don't put him down to me, mater. He wasn't my selection. _You_ chose him
for me.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Why did you ever let me marry him? _You_ must have seen through him.
_You're_ the old experienced person. Why didn't you warn your poor silly
step-mother? Why didn't you stop me?
THEODORE TRAVERS.