SCENE I.--_Breakfast-room at No. 92a, Porchester Square,
Bayswater. Rhubarb-green and gilt paper, with dark olive dado:
curtains of a nondescript brown. Black marble clock on grey
granite mantelpiece; Landseer engravings; tall book-case,
containing volumes of "The Quiver," "Mission-Work in Mesopotamia,"
a cheap Encyclopedia, and the "Popular History of Europe." Time,
about 9:45._ Mr. MONTAGUE TIDMARSH _is leaving to catch his
omnibus_. Mrs. T. _is at her Davenport in the window_.
_Mr. T._ (_from the door_). Anything else you want me to do, MARIA?
_Mrs. T._ Don't forget the turbot--and mind you choose it yourself--and the
lobster for the sauce--oh, and look in at SEAKALE'S as you pass, and remind
him to be here punctually at seven, to help JANE with the table, and say I
insist on his waiting in _clean_ white gloves; and be home early yourself,
and--there, if he hasn't rushed off before I remembered half----(Mr. T.
_re-appears at the door_.) What is it _now_, MONTAGUE? I do wish you'd
start, and have done with it, instead of keeping JANE at the front door,
when she ought to be clearing away breakfast!
_Mr. T._ Very sorry, my love--I was just going, when I met a Telegraph-boy
with this, for you, I hope there's nothing wrong with Uncle GABRIEL, I'm
sure.
_Mrs. T._ Don't stand there holding it--give it to me. (_She opens it._)
"Regret impossible dine to-night--lost Great Aunt very suddenly.--BUCKRAM."
How provoking of the man! And I particularly wished him to meet Uncle
GABRIEL, because he is such a good listener, and they would be sure to get
on together. As if he hadn't all the rest of the year to lose his Aunt in!
_Mr. T._ That's BUCKRAM all over. Never can depend upon that fellow.
(_Gloomily._) Now we shall be thirteen at table!
_Mrs. T._ Nonsense, MONTAGUE--we _can't_ be! Let me see--Uncle GABRIEL and
Aunt JOANNA, two; the DITCHWATERS, four; BODFISHES, six; TOOMERS, eight;
Miss BUGLE, nine; Mr. POFFLEY, ten; CECILIA FLINDERS, eleven, ourselves--we
_are_ thirteen! And I know Uncle will refuse to sit down at all if he
notices it; and, anyway, it is sure to cast a gloom over the whole thing.
We _must_ get somebody!
_Mr. T._ Couldn't that Miss--what's her name? SEATON--dine, for once?
_Mrs. T._ The idea, MONTAGUE! Then there would be one Lady too many--if you
can _call_ a Governess a Lady, that is. And I do so disapprove of taking
people out of their proper station.
[Illustration: "Montague, _don't_ say you went and ordered him."]
_Mr. T._ I might wire to FILLETER or MAKEWAYT--but I rather think they're
both away, and it won't do to run any risk. Shall I bring home STERNSTUHL
or FEDERFUCHS? Very quiet, respectable young fellows, and I could let one
of 'em go off early to dress.
_Mrs. T._ Thank you, MONTAGUE--but I won't have one of your German clerks
at _my_ table--everyone would see what he was in a minute. And he mightn't
even have a dress-suit! Let me think ... _I_ know what we can do. BLANKLEY
supplies extra guests for parties and things. I remember seeing it in the
paper. We must hire a man there. Go there at once, MONTAGUE, it's very
little out of your way, and tell them to be sure and send a gentlemanly
person--he needn't talk much, and he won't be required to tell any
anecdotes. Make haste, say they can put him down to my deposit account.
_Mr. T._ I don't half like the idea, MARIA, but I suppose it's the only
thing left. I'll go and see what they can do for us.
[_He goes out._
_Mrs. T._ I _know_ he'll make some muddle--I'd better do it myself! (_She
rushes out into the passage._) JANE, is your Master gone? Call him
back--there, I'll do it. (_She calls after Mr. T.'s retreating form from
the doorstep._) MONTAGUE! never mind about BLANKLEY'S. _I_'ll see to it. Do
you hear?
_Mr. T.'s Voice_ (_from the corner_). All right, my love, all right! I
hear.
_Mrs. T._ I must go round before lunch. JANE, send Miss SEATON to me in the
breakfast-room. (_She goes back to her desk; presently_ Miss MARJORY SEATON
_enters the room; she is young and extremely pretty, with an air of
dejected endurance_.) Oh, Miss SEATON, just copy out these _menus_ for me,
in your neatest writing, and see that the French is all right. You will
have plenty of time for it, as I shall take Miss GWENDOLEN out myself this
morning. By the way, I shall expect you to appear in the drawing-room this
evening before dinner. I hope you have a suitable frock?
_Miss Seaton._ I have a black one with lace sleeves and heliotrope
_chiffon_, if that will do--it was made in Paris.
_Mrs. T._ You are fortunate to be able to command such luxuries. All _my_
dresses are made in the Grove.
_Miss Seat._ (_biting her lip_). Mine was made when we--before I---- [_She
checks herself._
_Mrs. T._ You need not remind me _quite_ so often that your circumstances
were formerly different, Miss SEATON, for I am perfectly aware of the fact.
Otherwise, I should not feel justified in bringing you in contact, even for
so short a time, with my relations and friends, who are _most_ particular.
I think that is all I wanted you for at present. Stop, you are forgetting
the _menus_.
[Miss SEATON _collects the cards and goes out with compressed lips
as_ JANE _enters_.
_Jane._ Another telegram, if you please, M'm, and Cook would like to speak
to you about the pheasants.
[Illustration: THE POET LAUREATE OF THE MUSIC HALLS. A STUDY. [_See p. 33._
_Mrs. T._ Oh, dear me, JANE! I wish you wouldn't come and startle me with
your horrid telegrams--there, give it to me. (_Reading._) "Wife down,
violent influenza. Must come without her, TOOMER." (_Resentfully._) Again!
and I _know_ she's had it twice since the spring--it's too tiresomely
inconsid--no, it isn't--it's the very best thing she could do. Now we shall
be only twelve, and I needn't order that man from BLANKLEY'S, after all.
Poor dear woman, I must really write her a nice sympathetic little note--so
_fortunate_!
SCENE II.--Mrs. TIDMARSH'S _Bedroom--Time 7:15._ Mrs. T. _has just
had her hair dressed by her Maid_.
_Mrs. T._ You might have given me more of a fringe than that, PINNIFER. You
don't make nearly so much of my hair as you used to! (PINNIFER _discreetly
suppress the obvious retort_.) Well, I suppose that must do. I shan't
require you any more. Go down and see if the lamps in the drawing-room are
smelling. (PINNIFER _goes; sounds of ablutions are heard from_ Mr. T.'s
_dressing-room_.) MONTAGUE, is that you? I never heard you come in.
_Mr. T.'s Voice_ (_indistinctly._) Only just this moment come up, my dear.
Been putting out the wine.
_Mrs. T._ You always _will_ leave everything to the last. No, don't come
in. What? How can I hear what you say when you keep on splashing and
spluttering like that?
_Mr. T.'s Voice_ (_from beneath a towel._) That dozen of Champagne Uncle
GABRIEL sent has run lower than I thought--only two bottles and a pint
left. And he can't drink that _Saumur_.
_Mrs. T._ Two bottles and a half ought to be ample, if SEAKALE manages
properly--among twelve.
_Mr. T.'s V._ Twelve, my love? you mean _fourteen_!
_Mrs. T._ I mean nothing of the sort. Mrs. TOOMER'S got influenza
again--luckily, so of course we shall be just twelve.
_Mr. T.'s V._ MARIA, why didn't you tell me that before? Because I say,
look here!----
[_He half opens the door._
_Mrs. T._ I won't have you coming in here all over soap, there's nothing to
get excited about. Twelve's a very convenient number.
_Mr. T.'s V._ Twelve! Yes--but how about that fellow you told me to order
from BLANKLEY'S? He'll be the thirteenth!
_Mrs. T._ MONTAGUE, _don't_ say you went and ordered him, after I expressly
said you were not to mind, and that I would see about it myself! You heard
me call after you from the front door?
_Mr. T.'s V._ I--I understood you to say that I was to mind and see to it
myself; and so I went there the very first thing. The Manager assured me he
would send us a person accustomed to the best society, who would give every
satisfaction. _I_ couldn't be expected to know you had changed your mind!
_Mrs. T._ How _could_ you be so idiotic! We simply can't sit down thirteen.
Uncle will think we did it on purpose to shorten his life, MONTAGUE, do
something--write, and put him off, quick--do you hear?
_Mr. T.'s V._ (_plaintively_). My love, I _can't_ write while I'm like
this--and I've no pen and ink in here, either!
_Jane_ (_outside_). Please, Sir, SEAKALE would like a word with you about
the Sherry you put out--it don't seem to ta--smell quite right to him.
_Mrs. T._ Oh, never mind Sherry _now_. (_She scribbles on a leaf
from her pocket-book._) Here, JANE, tell SEAKALE to run with this to
BLANKLEY'S--quick.... There, MONTAGUE I've written to BLANKLEY'S not to
send the man--they're sure to keep that sort of person on the premises; so,
if SEAKALE gets there before they close, it will be all right.... Oh, don't
worry so.... What? White ties! How should _I_ know where they are? You
should speak to JANE. And do, for goodness sake, make haste! _I'm_ going
down.
_Mr. T._ (_alone_). MARIA! hi.... She's gone--and she never told me what
I'm to do if this confounded fellow turns up, after all! Hang it, I must
have a tie somewhere!
[_He pulls out drawer after drawer of his wardrobe, in a violent
flurry._
* * * * *