brother-in-law! (_He takes up a photo of Nelly lying on table._) Dear,
dear me, fancy me a married man, with somebody to call "my dear!" You're
a lucky dog, Adam Cherry--a lucky dog, even if you have been swindled
out of all your savings, and have to go on working for your living! Bah!
what's _work_ when you've got somebody to work for? Why----
(_Notices Theodore's note-book left on table and pauses._) Hulloa! Our
literary friend's note-book. (_Takes it up and turns it about in his
hand, musing._) I wonder if there'd be any harm now in looking inside?
I should like to see how he goes to work--oh, it's only just the same as
an artist's sketch-book, and nobody minds looking into that. (_Opens it
at end and reads._) "June 28th, Brussels. Good idea for farcical comedy.
N.B. Will probably need toning down for English market. Married lady
starts to call on elderly gentleman of irreproachable character,
she----"(_Reads on with broadening smile extending to chuckle--suddenly
checks himself._) Yes--it probably would (_Turns over more leaves._)
Hulloa, what's this marked "Unfinished. Novel or comedy. Characters:
Good-hearted, but chuckle-headed old man, knows himself fifty-five,
calls himself forty-five, fancies himself thirty-five." (_Chuckles_):
Ah, yes, I know that class of man--very clever, very clever! "Young
artist, somewhat conventional type, see page 3. Girl, cross between
the romantically heroic and the quaintly practical. Girl loves artist.
Artist loves girl. But both are poor. Old chap, well off, proposes to
girl. She, tired of poverty, throws love to the dogs and accepts. Old
fellow suspects nothing and tells himself that he will soon win her love
by his devotion and all that sort of thing. Will he ever find out the
truth?" Ah, yes, that ought to make a capital story. I wonder what
_will_ happen? (_Putting down book._) I feel quite sorry for that old
man. A _very_ interesting little story indeed. I wonder where he got it
from now? (_Takes up book again._) He's dated it June 14th--June
14th--why---- Yes, that's the day I proposed to Nelly--and--he was here
that day. (_Sits thinking. Suddenly a suspicion of the truth flashes
across him. He hurriedly takes the book and reads again, this time in a
trembling voice._) "Chuckle-headed old man--Young artist." (_Thinks_).
Jack Medbury. "Girl loves artist--artist loves girl--old chap well
off--proposes to girl. She, tired of poverty, throws love to the dogs
and accepts. Old fellow suspects nothing--tells himself he will soon win
her love by his devotion, and--and all that sort of thing." (_Lets his
hand with book fall on table._) That's the true story. It's _I_ who have
been building up the romance. Jack used to be here every day. He's never
been near the place since. Nelly never smiles even now. I've fancied it
was because she was ill and worried, and that I should be able to make
her happy as soon as I had her all to myself and could take care of her.
(_Irritably pushing the book away from him._) I wish people wouldn't
leave their things about. (_Bows his head between his hands._)
(_Primrose pushes open the door gently and enters. Seeing Cherry in this
attitude, she comes softly over and lays her hand on his shoulder._)
PRIMROSE DEANE.
Are you ill, Mr. Cherry?
ADAM CHERRY.
(_Starting._) No, my dear; no. I was only thinking. How--how do you
think Nelly's looking?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_She has brought in some flowers and is arranging them in vase._) Oh,
pretty well.
ADAM CHERRY.
It--it doesn't seem to you, my dear, does it, that she's fretting
herself about anything?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_Puzzled how to answer._) Oh no; I expect she's worried about her
brother, you know, Mr. Cherry, and poor Mrs. Ben Dixon.
ADAM CHERRY.
Ah, yes, yes; but don't you think there may be something else
besides--something more nearly concerning herself?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
Why do you ask, Mr. Cherry? (_She comes to him_.)
ADAM CHERRY.
(_Rising and taking both her hands._) Because, my dear, I'm a very
inexperienced old man, and I want some shrewd little person who
understands these matters better than I do to advise me. (_Very
earnestly_.) Do you think, my dear, I shall be making Nelly happy by
marrying her?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
Truthfully, Mr. Cherry?
ADAM CHERRY.
Truthfully, my dear, for both our sakes.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
Then I don't, Mr. Cherry.
ADAM CHERRY.
You--you think there's somebody else who could do it better? (_Primrose
nods her head._) Thank you, my dear (_releases her hands_).
PRIMROSE DEANE.
I'm so sorry, Mr. Cherry.
ADAM CHERRY.
There'd be more to be sorry for still, my dear, if we're too late to mend
matters (_turning away_). We won't talk about it any more. Have you seen
Ted?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
N-no.
ADAM CHERRY.
Not! Why he's just gone upstairs.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_Awkwardly._) Y-yes--I--I heard him come in. I was in Nelly's room. I
came out by the other door.
ADAM CHERRY.
(_Looking at her with surprise._) I thought you and he were such good
friends?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
This world's friendships are very fleeting.
ADAM CHERRY.
(_With a smile._) My dear, there's some mistake here. I said just now
that I was inexperienced. But there are some things that even dim eyes
cannot help seeing, and I'm sure that--forgive me, my dear, I'm only an
old fellow--that he cared for you very much.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_Looking out of window._) He--he made me think so.
ADAM CHERRY.
And then you quarrelled?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
No--he changed--all of a sudden just as--as if he had found out
something bad against me--and--and I've never done anything bad--not,
not _very_ bad (_choking a sob_). Do you think anybody could have said
anything to set him against me?
ADAM CHERRY.
Oh, impossible! What could---- Wait a minute, though. There's one thing
somebody might have told him about you that would have been enough to
send Master Ted off at double quick march.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
What?
ADAM CHERRY.
Can't you think?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
N-no. Is there anything very dreadful about me, then?
ADAM CHERRY.
Yes, my dear--to a young fellow as proud as he is poor--your money.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
My money! Won't anybody ever lo--like me then because I've got some
money?
ADAM CHERRY.
Plenty, my dear. But pennyless young men who fall in love with heiresses
are liable to be dubbed "fortune-hunters," and our high-spirited young
friend----
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_Interrupting petulantly._) Rather than risk that, would sacrifice all
his life's happiness. I call it very horrid and--and very selfish of
him.
ADAM CHERRY.
It's very silly, my dear, but depend upon it that's the explanation.
You----
(_Primrose, when she entered, left the door a little open, and now
Ted is heard whistling as he comes downstairs. Primrose is in front of
easy-chair. Cherry pushes her down into it and stands before her._)
ADAM CHERRY.
Tell him what you think of him.
(_Enter Ted, still smoking his pipe._)
TED MORRIS.
Do you mind my sitting down here for a little while, Cherry? I'm
tired of walking about the streets, and I'm not feeling in good enough
condition to sit out Travers' wit and humour. I've left him upstairs
with Nelly.
ADAM CHERRY.
Certainly, my dear boy. Stop here as long as ever you like and make
yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a few minutes. (_He goes out._)
TED MORRIS.
(_He strolls to window, whistling, and looks out._) It's a damned world.
(Primrose coughs.)
TED MORRIS.
(_Startled, he looks round and sees Primrose._) I--I beg your pardon,
Miss Deane. I had no idea _you_ were here.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
Is that the way you usually talk when I'm _not_ here?
TED MORRIS.
(_Smiling._) Not always (_Gloomily again._) The truth is I'm a bit down
on my luck just now, and----
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_Kindly_) I know. Nelly has been telling me. I am so very sorry.
TED MORRIS.
Thank you, Miss Deane, I knew you would be.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_Frigidly._) Oh, did you? I don't think you had any right to assume it
after your conduct at out last interview. I suppose you know that I'm
excessively angry with you.
TED MORRIS.
(_Dismally._) You have every right to be. (_A pause--Ted goes to
window._)
PRIMROSE DEANE.
I think if I were a gentleman, and had behaved exceedingly rudely to
a lady, I should take the first opportunity of begging her pardon, and
asking her to--to _try_ and forgive me.
TED MORRIS.
(_Still at window._) I do beg your pardon, Miss Deane, from the bottom
of my heart. And I should like you to forgive me--if you ever could.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
I don't think that's at all the way anybody ought to ask anybody else's
pardon (_looks across at him_) all that way off. And I can't forgive you
until I know why you did it. (_A pause._) Why--why did you do it?
TED MORRIS.
I--I cannot tell you. Please don't ask me.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
I suppose then I must think what I like?
TED MORRIS.
(_Gloomily._) I'm afraid so.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
I--I thought at one time it might be because--(_looking slyly at him_)
because I had lost all my money.
TED MORRIS.
(_Turning suddenly mid eagerly._) Lost all your money?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_Looking carefully away._) Yes. I thought somebody might have told
you--people are so fond of telling bad news--and that you didn't care
to have anything more to do with me after that. Of course, when people
have lost all their money they can't expect people to be so nice as--as
they were before.
TED MORRIS.
(_Who has stood rooted to the ground._) Then that was what that letter
was about. It came just at that very time. And--and you have been
thinking that of me! (_Rushes across and kneels down beside her, and
takes her hands._) Miss Deane--Primrose--let me work for you. Let me
take care of you all your life. I can do it now. I feel like a new man.
I can face the whole College of Surgeons and the world too, and lick
them both. (_His manner grows more and more enthusiastic and joyous._)
PRIMROSE DEANE.
You--you're not very sympathetic.
TED MORRIS.
I know I'm a selfish brute. I can't help it. You shan't regret it. I'll
make another fortune for you and you shall have it all. Primrose, dear,
I love you, I love you. I could not speak when you were rich, but now
you are poor I can. You--you do care for me a little, dear.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
A little, Ted.
TED MORRIS.
Enough to be my wife?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
Yes, I think it's enough for that. (_Ted draws her face down and kisses
her._) And you don't mind the money either way?
TED MORRIS.
Of course not, dear.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
And you care for me just the same, rich or poor?
TED MORRIS.
(_He sits on arm of chair beside her_.) Now and always, sweetheart, rich
or poor.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
I'm glad of that. I shouldn't like to be cared for merely because I was
poor. It would be so awkward if--if one wasn't poor.
TED MORRIS.
But you are poor?
PRIMROSE DEANE.
Not--not very, I'm afraid, dear.
TED MORRIS.
You said you'd lost all your money!
PRIMROSE DEANE.
No, I didn't, Ted. I said somebody might have told you I had. People do
tell things about other people that are not true sometimes. (_Ted rises
and stands by table, looking troubled. Primrose breaks into a ringing
laugh._) You can't get out of it now, Ted. I could bring a breach of
promise case against you. (_Ted still looks stern. Primrose rises and
comes to him, playing with one of his coat buttons._) I've deceived
and trapped you into it, haven't I? Please forgive me. It--it isn't
so _very_ much, and I could give it away to the Salvation Army if you
liked, or we could let Mr. Ben Dixon lay it out for us. (_Laughs._)
TED MORRIS.
You don't understand, dear.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
(_Seriously._) Yes--I do, dear. You're a silly stuck-up old thing.
You never would have spoken so long as you thought I was rich--and
I--(_nestling against him_) wanted you.
TED MORRIS.
(_Relenting._) They'll say I married you for your money.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
Don't you care for me sufficiently, dear, not to mind what "they" say?
(_Looking him earnestly in the face._)
TED MORRIS.
(_Looks at her, and then takes her face in his hands and kisses her._)
Yes, dear, forgive me. (_After this, in loverlike fashion, they commence
walking about the room and talking with their arms round each other's
waists._)
TED MORRIS.
Let me see. I shall pass my examination in November.
PRIMROSE DEANE.
And then we must look about for a nice little practice. We'll have one
somewhere in the country, shall we?
TED MORRIS.
Yes. (_Musing._) I wish I hadn't been fool enough to let that Ben Dixon
have all----
(_A knock at front door heard. Primrose runs to window and looks out._)
PRIMROSE DEANE.
Yes, I thought so. It's Mrs. Ben Dixon. (_Running to door and holding
out her hand to Ted._) Let's go upstairs to Nelly. (_Ted catches her
hand, and they run off, leaving the door wide open behind them. A wait.
Then enters Mrs. Ben Dixon, shown in by servant._)
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Is Adam Cherry in? (_Cherry follows in._) Oh, here you are. I ain't late,
am I?
ADAM CHERRY.
No--not as it happens. But I'm expecting him every minute. (_To
servant_.) Ask Mrs. Wheedles to step up, will you? (_Servant goes out._)
MRS. BEN DIXON.
I was bound to stop and get a snack. This is going to be a trying scene,
you know, Cherry. What does--what's the poor woman's name--Mrs. Wheedles
--think about it now?
ADAM CHERRY.
Oh, much the same. She's still sure he's the man.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
I hope to goodness she's right. We shall look silly, you know, Cherry,
if he isn't.
ADAM CHERRY.
And he will look silly if he is. (_Enter Mrs. Wheedles. She is nervous
but tries to be confident and to behave, as she would term it, "as
a lady"_) Oh here you are, Mrs. Wheedles. This is Mrs.----
(_pauses--awkwardly_.)
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Well, we're not sure who I am at present. That's just what I've come to
find out. I suppose there'll be no doubt about your knowing this beauty
if he is the man?
MRS. WHEEDLES.
(_Stiffly_.) I think not, madam. I was his wife for ten years.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Ten! Ah, poor soul, no wonder you look sad. I've been it for eighteen
months. I hope you mean to be firm, Mrs. Wheedles?
MRS. WHEEDLES.
I shall do my duty as a woman.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
I'm glad to hear you say so. I hope he'll get two years.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
(_Sighing._) Ah, so happy as we used to be, too.
ADAM CHERRY.
If you take my advice, you'll make him fork out something to divide
between you, and then let him go.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Now look here, Cherry, don't you suggest anything of the kind. Don't you
interfere between us and our husband.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
_My_ husband, madam.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Oh, all right, your husband. I'm sure you're quite welcome to him. I've
saved a good deal more out of the wreck than I expected to, thanks to
Theodore; and we shouldn't get anything out of him if we tried. He's
deceived me and he's deceived Mrs. Wheedles--as simple and trusting a
woman as ever breathed, I should say, from the look of her. I want to
think of him as doing some hard work for once in his life.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
You're quite right, ma'am. He doesn't deserve any mercy at our hands--a
good wife I was to him--none of your flighty sort. (_Begins to cry. Bell
heard._)
ADAM CHERRY.
There he is, I expect. I must see him first. You just step in there
(_indicating door_) and wait till I've gone out and closed the door
behind me. That will be your cue. (_The two women retire towards inner
room._) I shall be in the little room the other side of the passage if
you want me. (_Ben Dixon's voice is heard in passage. Cherry nods and
signs the two women to disappear. They do so, closing the door behind
them._)
(Enter Ben Dixon. He is dressed for travelling, bag and umbrella. He
enters, beaming as usual, and laying down his hat, bag, and umbrella
on chair by door, advances to Cherry and shakes hands with him with one
hand while holding his watch in the other. )
MR. BEN DIXON.
My dear Cherry, I've only just ten minutes. Is the lady here?
ADAM CHERRY.
Oh, yes, but--but I'm afraid she'll want to talk to you for more than
ten minutes.
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Makes a clicking noise with his tongue._) I'm really afraid I cannot
spare her any more. I must catch the afternoon mail from Charing Cross.
ADAM CHERRY.
(_Quickly_.) Going abroad?
MR. BEN DIXON.
Yes, Mr. Cherry.
ADAM CHERRY.'
Anything to do with the "Anti-Alcoholic and Mineral Water Union?"
MR. BEN DIXON.
Partly so.
ADAM CHERRY.
Ah! I thought you'd be having to travel soon in connection with that
affair. I'll send the lady to you at once, anyhow. (_Moving towards door
at back._)
MR. BEN DIXON.
Do, Mr. Cherry; do. And if she's got the cash ready--or a cheque, it
really ought not to take long, you know.
ADAM CHERRY.
I'll leave you to explain the situation to her yourself.
(_Cherry goes out slamming the door behind him. Ben Dixon goes to his
bag and takes out a prospectus and crossing and standing facing windows
begins to read it to himself. While he is doing this Mrs. Ben Dixon and
Mrs. Wheedles enter quietly._)
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_With prospectus in his hand rehearsing to himself in soft voice what
he intends to say to his supposed client._) You will be assisting, my
dear madam, in saving many poor souls from destruction; you will also
get 15 per cent, for your money. For myself----
(_He turns and sees the two women. The paper drops from his hand and he
stands looking from one to the other like a trapped rat. For an instant
he thinks of escape. He makes a step towards the door at back, but Mrs.
Ben Dixon makes a movement to cut him off, then towards door Right,
before which Mrs Wheedles stands. Then he makes a movement as if
thinking of the window. Then seeing the hopelessness of his case and
understanding the situation, he makes up his mind. With an expression
of wonder and joy, he advances with outstretched arms towards Mrs.
Wheedles._)
MR. BEN DIXON.
What, Gerty! And you're _not_ dead! Oh, why did they tell me that you
were! Why----
MRS. BEN DIXON.
(_Intercepts him_.) Here, that won't do. That's a bit too thin, Ben. You
described yourself when you married me as a bachelor.
MR. BEN DIXON.
I know I did, my dear, but I can explain--I can explain everything.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
You will have the opportunity of doing so--before the magistrate
(_regarding him with concentrated disgust_), you sanctimonious old
scoundrel.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
A good wife as I was to you, Henery, how could you do it?
MR. BEN DIXON.
My dear Gertrude, I can explain.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Explain! You'll explain yourself into heaven if they're not sharp. Can
you explain why you humbugged and lied an unfortunate fool of a woman
into marrying you?
MRS. WHEEDLES.
And broke your poor wife's heart.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
And tried to swindle her out of every penny she possessed.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
And deserted a poor harmless babe as was the very image of him.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
I'm sorry for the child; but we'll make him pay for it, Mrs. Wheedles.
MR. BEN DIXON.
If you will only allow me to explain.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Explain? What is there to explain? Do you deny that you are married to
Mrs. Wheedles, there?
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Virtuously_). No, Bella, I do not! No consideration of consequence to
myself shall induce me to deny it. I am proud--as anyone might be--to be
the husband of this noble lady! (_Crosses over to Mrs. Wheedles' side._)
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Oh, well you've been pretty modest about it of late. And do you deny
that eighteen months ago you married me?
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_More in sorrow than in anger._) No, Bella, much as I may regret it--I
do not, I _will_ not deny the truth.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
Why did you do it, Henery?
MR. BEN DIXON.
It was wrong of me. I own it. We are none of us perfect. The woman
tempted me, and I fell.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
I tempted you?
MR. BEN DIXON.
You, Bella. I do not blame you. You loved me--at least you said you
did--and you dangled your purse before me. I thought of all the
good that I could do to others with your money. I always do think of
others--it is my weakness. I sacrificed myself for the good of humanity.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
(_Too staggered for words_). Well, I'm----
MRS. WHEEDLES.
You never thought of poor _me_, Henery.
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_With an air of sweet sadness._) Not think of you, Gertrude? Ah, how
often have I not longed to seek you--to come to you with outstretched
arms and say, "Gertrude, let us forgive and forget, let us be happy
again as we were in the dear old days gone by." (_Stifles a sob._)
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Why didn't you do it?
MR. BEN DIXON.
My dear Bella, do not interrupt. There were reasons rendering it
necessary for me to control my longing--you were one of them.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
And did you never think of what had become of me--of how I was getting
on?
MR. BEN DIXON.
Do you think I could have lived a moment in doubt? I made enquiries.
They told me you were well and----
MRS. BEN DIXON.
You said just now they told you she was dead.
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Irritably._) My good woman, do be quiet. I'm not addressing you. I'm
talking to my wife.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
Do let the man explain.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
Explain! And do you mean to say you're going to be fool enough to listen
to him--you poor ninny-hammer?
MRS. WHEEDLES.
(_Bridling._) Don't you call me names, ma'am. I'm a respectable married
woman, which is more than some people are.
MRS. BEN DIXON
And whose fault if they're not, I should like to know? Why couldn't you
keep him when you'd got him?--not let him loose to prey on poor fools
like me.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
Why did you come with your arts and your tricks and lure him away,
ma'am?
MRS. BEN DIXON.
I! I lure away _that!_ You silly old woman!
MRS. WHEEDLES.
No more a silly old woman than you are, ma'am. He was a loving Christian
husband till you came between us with your painted face.
MRS. BEN DIXON.
(_Close to her._) You say I paint my face, and I'll pull your false
front off.
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_He has hitherto remained standing between them in an attitude
expressive of pious indifference, his finger-tips pressed against each
other._) Ladies! ladies!
MRS. BEN DIXON.
(_Turns fiercely on him._) You be quiet (_he skips out of her way_),
and keep your breath to bamboozle that poor fool with. You take him back
again, my dear, you haven't had enough of him as yet. I shan't interfere
I am only too glad to be rid of him. Only if he makes a fool of you a
second time, don't you come to me for sympathy. I've done with you both,
and I've done with respectability. I've paid enough for being a prude.
For the future give me something wholesome and disreputable. (_She
sweeps out by door at back which she slams behind her._)
MRS. WHEEDLES.
(_Calling after her_.) Hussy!
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Soothing her._) Don't take any notice of her, dearest; she's a little
excited, that's all.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
(_Clinging to him._) I feel so upset, Henery (_crying_).
MR. BEN DIXON.
Of course you do. You're not strong, Gertrude. We must take more care of
you. (_Puts his arm round her while slyly looking at his watch._)
MRS. WHEEDLES.
(_Looking up lovingly at him!_) You won't leave me again?
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_He hastily slips watch out of sight._) Leave you! Not now that I
have you once again. (_Squeezes her to him tenderly--then with joyful
playfulness._) And I'll tell you what we'll do, Gerty, to celebrate
this joyful reunion. We'll have one of our dear little old evenings
out together--do you remember them? The little dinner at the little
restaurant with the little bottle of wine, and the Adelphi afterwards.
(_Mrs. Wheedles answers with a look and a coy laugh._) Run and put your
bonnet on and we'll trot off together this very minute and get away from
them all.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
I must just change my dress, Henery.
MR. BEN DIXON.
Of course, of course you must, you long will it?
But it won't take
MRS. WHEEDLES.
Not more than ten minutes.
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_He edges her towards the door._) Ah, well, be as quick as you can,
dear. I'll wait down here for you.
MRS. WHEEDLES.
You--you _will_ wait, Henery?
MR. BEN DIXON.
(_Offended._) Gertrude!
MRS. WHEEDLES.
No--I didn't mean that, dear.
MR. BEN DIXON.
I know you didn't. I know you didn't (_pushing her playfully out._) And,
Gerty! (_she stops_) you haven't got the cherry coloured one still by
you?--the one you used to look so saucy in?
MRS. WHEEDLES.
(_At open door._) Yes, I have, Henery. I've never worn it since the day
you left me.
MR. BEN DIXON.