faded white chrysanthemum on it. Chair up stage, C. Open portmanteau,
L. Coats, etc., R. 1 E._
ENTER MISS PRENDERGAST.
MISS P. I am afraid all these expeditions will be too much for the
young people. I intend looking over my dear boy’s wardrobe--I mean his
lordship’s wardrobe. (_Crosses L._) Maitland is an excellent servant,
but I feel anxious about socks. Dear, dear! how untidy this portmanteau
looks! (_Kneels down by one._) Ah, this is a sock; there is a hole.
(_Produces thimble, etc., draws chair to L. of table._) No wonder he
has a cold. Dear me! I would not allow any one to know it for the
world, but the memory of a dear little boy is kept warm in my heart.
(_Hands rest in lap._) What dear, coaxing ways he had--how I loved the
touch of his arms! Well, they say the heart of a woman at sixty-nine
is the same as that of a young girl. Not (_works briskly_) that I am
sixty. Far, far from it! I feel quite positive that Cecil believes I
made this journey, consented to it, merely for her sake, and I am glad
she should believe I faced deadly perils in order to chaperone her.
Dear me (_hands drop, spectacles fall_), it is just two years ago
since that terrible time in London when I found that all my money was
gone--lost in the failure of that wicked gold-mining company. I think
with shudders of my vulgar landlady and the day when I had barely a
shilling left. My mid-day repast was a morsel of bread, a little tea.
I was wondering hopelessly--God forgive me!--what to do, where to
go. Then, the sudden clamor in the house, the loud voices (_rises_),
Arthur, his lordship, burst into my room. He was excited. He caught
hold of me and hugged me tight, and said, “You wicked old woman, G--”
(they have always called me G--since the time Cecil was so naughty
over that letter in the pictorial alphabet. G. stands for Grannie, and
also for goose.) He said, “Go upstairs and put on your cap or your
hat and come away with me. Maitland can pack your fal-lals. Cecil is
waiting, so you must hurry.” I am afraid--well, yes, I certainly cried
a little. (_Wipes eyes with socks_). Then he pushed me out of the room,
and I heard him talking to the landlady in a very loud voice; she was
trembling afterward. I was so upset that, after all, I carried my
bonnet downstairs and he put it on with his own dear hands, and hugged
me again. We drove off at once to their London house, and what a happy
home they have made it!
They will not hear of my leaving them, though things are not so bad
as I feared. Some of my money was saved, so that I am not entirely
dependent on my dear boy’s bounty. Then I knit all his socks, the best
silk, and he assures me that I save him pounds; he had always paid 18s.
a pair in Regent Street. Iniquitous robbery!
I do not think I should really mind if I had not a farthing, for the
little one I loved has grown into such a real nobleman. (_Wipes eyes
with socks._)
ENTER CECIL R.
CECIL. Sentimentalizing over Arthur’s socks?
MISS P. (_starting and jumping up_). I deplore these abrupt
entrances--a--(_agitatedly._) Is Arthur, is his lordship there?
CECIL. His lordship is tearing along in a rickshaw, but her ladyship
(_curtsies_), finding the heat oppressive, has returned to the hotel
and the society of her beloved G.
MISS P. (_sinking back_). Really, Cecil----
CECIL (_coming behind chair_). My language was sufficiently correct
to please even you. What are you doing in this untidy boy’s room? I
suppose, like me, he has nowhere to keep his things, only a chair
and a table obligingly supplied by the Police Station. (_Coming R.
of table._) Now, what is he doing with a dead chrysanthemum? Look at
the stalk of it. Did you give it to him, G., dear? (_MISS P. examines
through glasses._) If you are engaged in a general tidying-up, I think
this might be thrown away. (_Drops flower in front of table. MISS P.
picks it up._)
MISS P. I was merely doing some--Why, dear me, I have no silk in my
needle! (_Holds up sock._)
CECIL (_coming in front of table and laughingly snatching sock_). Just
as I said, sentimentalizing over Arthur’s socks, the dear boy! (_MISS
P. recovers sock, continues working._) You see, he did not receive us
with vials of wrath. I like the Princess Kiku, don’t you?
MISS P. She has pretty, caressing manners, but their incessant bows and
elaborate politeness try me.
CECIL. I should have thought you would have revelled in it. However,
here we are, but Arthur is no nearer finding the shipwrecked baby. Why
can’t the foolish boy enjoy the money? He now intends to lay the whole
thing before the Emperor, and he’ll send a--what do you call it--an
edict or something through the land, and all the lost infants will
assemble here. Won’t it be fun? Why, though, G. dear, how stupid of me!
She won’t be a baby now. She will be as old as I am, twenty-three.
MISS P. (_precisely_). An exact definition of age is unnecessary in
a woman; it is sufficient for you to assert that you are of age, or
that you have reached years of discretion--a little more reserve is
advisable.
CECIL. With you, G.? Why, you came to us when Arthur was only four, and
he is five years older than I am, that----
MISS P. (_hastily_). Cecil, my dear, I have dropped my needle.
CECIL. It is sticking aggressively in that sock. I am jealous. Arthur
has his man, and I have no maid; you don’t trouble about my wardrobe.
MISS P. A woman should be at home with her needle. Ar--his lordship
cannot darn socks, and though Maitland is as handy as all old soldiers,
I could not trust him with silk ones.
CECIL. Nobody knits me anything, I--am only a girl. (_Turns L._) G.,
dear, I smell (_MISS P. starts_)--I smell a whiff of real English
tobacco; his lordship, having wearied of running coolies off their
legs, has returned. You will be caught--G., dear, you will be
caught--you will be caught! (_MISS P. hurries across stage, dropping
sock, etc._)
[EXIT _L. CECIL laughs, and turns to follow as curtain
falls._
CURTAIN.