ACT II
(The Dream Continues.)
Scene:Outside ofMrs. Clarence’shouse in a fashionable London square. A front door isC.Large windows toR.of door. An area with practical steps descending below stage in front of windows. Area railing. The road is up in course of repairs, so that no vehicles can come quite near. A watchman’s hutL.An ash barrel near hut. Red lights hung about to show road is up. Snow thick upon the ground and steps and railings. Moonlight.At Rise:Horacediscovered down area steps peeping along the pavement. Chuckles.
Scene:Outside ofMrs. Clarence’shouse in a fashionable London square. A front door isC.Large windows toR.of door. An area with practical steps descending below stage in front of windows. Area railing. The road is up in course of repairs, so that no vehicles can come quite near. A watchman’s hutL.An ash barrel near hut. Red lights hung about to show road is up. Snow thick upon the ground and steps and railings. Moonlight.
At Rise:Horacediscovered down area steps peeping along the pavement. Chuckles.
Horace.I’ve given him the slip. I’ve fooled him! That’s one on Mars. (Comes up steps cautiously, looking about him.) Deuce take his impudence! I wish he were in—— Well, Mars would be bad enough, from his description of it. If I could get a cab I’d ride round till morning. (Enter a policemanR.) Good evening, Policeman.
Policeman.Good evening, sir.
Horace.Any cabs about?
Policeman.No, sir. Very few out, sir. It’s a bad night.
Horace.By Jove, you are right there. It is the worst night I have ever had.
Policeman.There’s a cab stand in the Bouverie Road. You might find one there, sir.
Horace.But you don’t think I will?
Policeman.It’s doubtful, sir.
Horace.Look here, I wish you would get me a taxi or four-wheeler, anything. I don’t care what it is. Here’s a half crown for you. If you bring it back in ten minutes I’ll double it with pleasure.
Policeman.(Takes coin) Thank you, sir. Will you wait here?
Horace.Here or hereabouts. Bring it as near as the road will let you.
Policeman.All right, sir. (ExitPolicemanL.)
Horace.Splendid force, the police. I believe this is the best hiding place I can find. (Descends area steps and disappears from view. EnterMessengerL.)
Messenger.My foolish rabbit! Come from your hole.
Horace.(Much discomfited—comes up again) Rabbit! Beastly personal! Oh, there you are.
Messenger.Trying to hide?
Horace.I’ve been looking for you everywhere—even down in that area. Where have you been?
Messenger.The policeman will not find a cab. I have taken care of that.
Horace.(Aside) He must have been listening.
Messenger.I have brought you here....
Horace.You brought me? (Dejected.) There is no escape.
Messenger.None whatever. (Horaceastounded to find his thought read byMessenger.) Look around. Do you know where you are?
Horace.(The front of the house is a transparency and now lights up from within and shows a ballroom. Ladies and gentlemen strolling about between dances.) I declare, if it isn’t Mrs. Clarence’s! In full swing.
Messenger.I have brought you here where yourefused to come to-night to give you your first lesson inOtherdom.
Horace.What’s that? Otherdom, you say? (Interior again dark.)
Messenger.You do not understand? It is characteristic of your race that while all that is vile and ignoble is well expressed by your word “Selfishness,” your language does not supply its opposite. In Mars we have a word which means the abandonment of self and the striving for others. It is the great essential virtue,Otherdom.
Horace.Thank you. I will bear it in mind.
Messenger.On your life show it in your acts.
Horace.Oh, I will. May I go home now; it’s very chilly.
Messenger.Poor thing of Temperature! Your scientists still leave you slaves of the weather. What braggarts are you to dream as yet of civilization! When you can weave water into clothing, spin fire into ribbons, and wear them in the altitudes, you shall speak of some advancement. Your mills of Fashion sigh and hum, but not one of you can outdress a butterfly. Yet the New Times would rush upon you had Otherdom a place with you. That is the substance of which Knowledge is but the shadow playing about it—growing as it grows. You seek to puff out the shadow—it will be shadow merely while Time’s torch burns. Look yonder. Who comes? Speak to her.
(Enter a Woman outcast.)
Horace.No, thank you. I’d rather not. I warn you, if you are seen you will have an awful crowd round you.
Messenger.I am visible to no eyes but yours.
Horace.That’s clever. How do you do it?
Messenger.She is turning back. I will bring her to you.
Horace.I wish you wouldn’t. You can’t realize——
Messenger.I know more of your world than you do. She is returning.
(The Woman has sauntered on, looked atHorace, loitered, and gone offR.again. Now she re-enters in similar style.)
Horace.And I’m off! (GoingL.)
Messenger.Stay! (Horaceis pulled up.)
Horace.I don’t care to be seen talking to her.
Messenger.Help her.
Horace.Look here, I’m not invisible, and if I am seen by anybody in this house—— Oh, Lor’!
Messenger.She comes. Another kind of wreck on the reefs of Self.
Outcast.You’ll catch cold, dear, if you don’t come indoors. (Horaceturns his back on her.) Bah, you! Give me a tanner to get a drink with?
Horace.Good night! Good night!
Messenger.Help her.
Horace.I have no silver left.
Messenger.Give her gold. Give her gold.
Horace.Gold—there’s none in circulation. Do you know what she is? A vile wanton, a plague of the streets!
Messenger.No more! Dare man so speak of women? Oh, are you not Joint Guardians of the Future? Give, Horace, give.
(Horacegives a pound note. She looks at it and becomes half hysterical.)
Outcast.It’s a pound, sir—a pound note. Did you mean it?
Horace.I had to give you something.
Outcast.Bless your good heart! It’ll pay the rent, sir. We won’t have to turn out. You don’t know what a lift it is, sir. Thank you, thank you, sir. Good night, sir. Good night, sir. Oh, bless you! (ExitR.)
Messenger.Is it not blessed to give?
Horace.I dare say you find it quite funny. It must be blessed to give away other people’s money. It was you gave it, mind, not I.
Messenger.Then you cannot expect any blessing from it.
Horace.It strikes me I am getting the worst of it all round. How much longer is this foolery to go on? You’ll never bring me to your way of thinking.
Messenger.So they all said in Mars.
Horace.You are in for a long visit. Now where will you put up? I can’t take you in myself, but how about our Moon? I make you a present of the Moon—and you can put a fence round it.
Messenger.The Moon is not yours to give.
Horace.That is why I make you a present of it. I’m taking a leaf out of your book. You give away my money, so I give you somebody else’s Moon. That in practice appears to be your delightful Otherdom.
Messenger.It is not.
Horace.Well, why are you trying to convert me?
Messenger.Your conversion is a condition of my return.
Horace.(Exultingly) Self! Self! Who’s selfish now, Marsy?
Messenger.I shall rejoice in saving you no less that the task is imposed upon me.
Horace.You are doomed to failure. Give it up—and please let me go home. I’m nearly always in bed by half-past eleven.
Messenger.No. Your lesson is only just beginning. Have you forgotten Minnie?
Horace.Forgotten her? Rather not! Dear little girl! She is awfully gone on me.
Messenger.Hush, hush! She is one whom it pains to see a fault in you. Love, the elementary Otherdom, possesses her. A divine gift of madness set in opposition to the cold logic of Self. She did love you——
Horace.Did? She does, and don’t you make any mistake about it!
Messenger.Listen a while. (Waves his hand and the interior of house lights up and discoversMinnieandDiceychatting.)
Dicey.This is our dance, I think.
Minnie.Isn’t it a lovely dance? I’m so glad we came, and it was all thanks to you.
Dicey.Oh, you mustn’t thank me any more. I’m over-rewarded. But is Mr. Parker often like that?
Minnie.He is rather peculiar at times.
Horace.(Indignant) I—peculiar?
Dicey.Peculiar? That seems a mild epithet to apply to him.
Minnie.I’m almost inclined to agree with you.
Dicey.He is a selfish beast.
Horace.I—selfish?
Minnie.He refused to come to-night after he had promised—promised faithfully.
Dicey.Pearls before swine.
Horace.I’ll swine him when I get hold of him!
Minnie.And he wouldn’t even fetch us a cab.
Dicey.But he said he was just going out to get one?
Minnie.That was an awful fib because you were there and he was ashamed.
Dicey.Ashamed? He might well be. He must be going off his head.
Horace.This doesn’t interest me in the least.
Messenger.No? Hear a little more.
Dicey.He gave me a fright, though—one terrible fright.
Minnie.Did he? How?
Dicey.He spoke a word and all the beauty of life seemed to shrivel up and die away. And then somebody not far away contradicted him. In a moment the cloud was gone and the whole world seemed even brighter and happier than it had been before.
Horace.Lor’, the fellow thinks he is making love! Makes me sick to hear him. I’d like to kick him!
Messenger.What right have you to stand in the way of this young man who gives love for love? You don’t love her.
Horace.I think I do.
Messenger.He knows he does.
Horace.Minnie knows I do, but she doesn’t want to be reminded of it every minute or two.
Messenger.A great mistake. Women don’t like to be taken for granted. Listen!
Dicey.What could he ever be to you? Certainly no companion for life. He? He is only fit to be a bit of furniture in a library, while you are all life and sunshine. Minnie, you know I love you.
Minnie.Hush! You mustn’t say that.
Dicey.I know I’m not worthy of you.
Horace.That’s the first sensible thing he has said yet.
Messenger.Have you ever said it?
Horace.Of course not. I have been worthy of her all the time.
Dicey.Your happiness would be everything to me.
Minnie.I think you mean what you say.
Horace.He doesn’t! The beast!
Dicey.Now for a small confession. Ever so long ago I bought a ring, in hope, or, perhaps, indespair. Whenever my chances seemed most faint, fortune most forbidding, I used to take it out of my pocket and look at it.
Horace.Silly ass! Can you imagine a more deplorable waste of time? Whenever a man is down on his luck to take out a ring and look at it? Oh, dear, oh, dear!
Dicey.Am I forgiven?
Minnie.You are silly.
Horace.There! See? She agrees with me!
Dicey.May I put it on?
Minnie.(Bus. with ring) Oh, Arthur, how lovely! Oh, what a beauty! Oh, it is ever so much prettier than——
Horace.Of course. Of course. How like a woman! The diamonds are bigger and that settles the whole thing! (Lights down within house, only the exterior now shown.)
Messenger.Never mind, you said you were going to buy her a thimble to-morrow. What’s a diamond ring to a thimble?
Horace.I meant a present. I didn’t particularize so, I simply called it a thimble. But I’ll buy her a star to-morrow—an enormous star of diamonds. I’ll make Mr. Dicey sit up!
Messenger.So like a man. He thinks if the diamonds are bigger that will settle the whole thing.
Horace.Of course it is unnecessary. Minnie would not marry a brainless idiot like Dicey. Aunt Martha would see to that. After all, Aunt Martha is a sensible woman.
Messenger.Though somewhat narrow-minded.
Horace.She can’t help that, poor thing. Aunt Martha would never sit still and see Minnie sacrificed.
Messenger.Quite true. Let us hear her wishes. (Waves his hand and interior is again illuminated.AuntandMrs. Clarenceare discovered seated.)
Mrs. Clarence.I am so sorry Horace was not able to come with you.
Horace.That is Mrs. Clarence.
Aunt.So am I, for his sake.
Mrs. Clarence.What did you say was the matter with him? Influenza?
Aunt.Did I say that? Well, I suppose influenza is as good a name for it as any other.
Mrs. Clarence.It sounds as if Master Horace had been naughty.
Aunt.Julia, dear, I am much worried about him—I am indeed.
Horace.Good old Aunt Martha! She’s not such a bad sort.
Mrs. Clarence.What is the matter with him?
Aunt.My dear, he has taken a turn for the worse.
Mrs. Clarence.Have you sent for a doctor?
Aunt.No, I haven’t. It is more of a moral complaint than physical. He thinks of nothing and nobody but himself. He quite neglects Minnie.
Mrs. Clarence.What a shame!
Aunt.And I can’t sit still and see Minnie sacrificed.
Mrs. Clarence.I should think not, indeed. How pretty she looks to-night. Horace is engaged to her, isn’t he?
Aunt.I’m glad to say it is broken off. He has nobody to blame but himself. She plucked up courage this evening and gave him his congé.
Mrs. Clarence.So that’s it. Influenza has a lot to answer for. Excuse me a moment, dear. (ExitMrs. Clarence.)
Horace.Must I listen to all this twaddle?
Messenger.Your intimates don’t appear to think very highly of you.
Horace.I don’t care two straws for their opinion.
Messenger.Don’t you value the praise of your fellow men?
Horace.My fellow men—oh, yes. But not such creatures as these. Men of the world, men of business, hard-headed men of science. Take their opinions. I venture to say they will speak of me with respect and very possibly with admiration.
(Diceyhas broughtMinnieback and left her withAunt Martha, he retiring. He shows elation as he bows.)
Aunt.Are you tired, dear?
Minnie.Quite the reverse.
Aunt.Then why are you not dancing?
Minnie.I have something to tell you. Something particular. Oh, Auntie, I hope you won’t be vexed!
Aunt.Vexed? Surely not.
Minnie.I’ll whisper it. (Whispers.)
Aunt.(Smiling)Really?I’m very glad! He’s charming.
Horace.Me! Me!
Minnie.You know I never really cared for Horace like this.
Horace.What? What did she say?
Aunt.He certainly never cared for you.
Horace.Oh, you wicked old woman!
Aunt.There was only one person he was ever in love with, and that was himself.
Minnie.I know it now. I was giving everything, he nothing.
Aunt.Men are like that, my dear. They are all alike.
Minnie.Not all, Auntie. There’s Arthur.
Aunt.Arthur is the exception, at least I hope so.
Minnie.Oh, he is very different from Horace.
Horace.I should hope he was, and you’ll find it out, my young lady.
Aunt.You have had a very narrow escape. Arthur is a good man. I feel that. As for Horace, he is a pig!
Minnie.Oh, Auntie, don’t say that!
Aunt.Pig! I do say it! I will say it! It describes him exactly. Horace is a pig!
(Lights and interior dark.)
Messenger.As you observed, Aunt Martha is a sensible woman.
Horace.She’s a perfect fool! Women are all alike. Mean and selfish, and sly and narrow-minded—oh, fearfully narrow-minded! I’m jolly well out of it, and I’m jolly glad to be so jolly well out of it! One thing I know—I’ll never speak to another woman again as long as I live.
(The Waits are heard singing a carol.)
Messenger.You are still devoted to self in spite of the poor opinion of your friends. Have you no suspicion of yourself?
Horace.It strikes me that there is a lot of guess-work about you, and what’s more, you are making some uncommonly bad shots. You’ve pitched on me as an example of selfishness. Now, I’m not selfish. It’s the other people who are selfish. Not I.
Messenger.Sublime conceit!
Horace.Oh, my goodness, there are the Waits! Where’s a policeman? I’ll have them moved on.
Messenger.Why?
Horace.Why, listen to them! That’s why.
Messenger.They are singing for charity. What they receive they give away.
Horace.Nonsense! They are singing because they like it.
Messenger.They are singing to help others.
Horace.Well, they’re making a jolly row about it!
Messenger.Have you ever done anything for others?
Horace.Permit me a word. You have advanced not a single argument why my conduct should be deemed reprehensible. We are quite well aware of our duty to each other, but in our highly organized society to-day we employ the important principle of the Division of Labor. Some attend to Charities, others to Science, others again to Production or Distribution, and so on and so on.
Messenger.Continue your divisions,—some do the fun-making and some do the grieving, some do the feasting and some the fasting. You, Prince of Duncedom, go gather rainbows, photograph a sunset, make a dyke of sponge, a castle on quicksand, a pillar of jelly. It were as wise as to build a Society on Self. That is a cement of gunpowder which dries in time and, gathering force, shatters a continent. In all your heart-breaking history but one order has been founded upon Love. It has been growing slowly since the first Christmas. Tell this to your politicians, your false judges, to the fringe of corruption at the base of the Law, and to all others panting and raging round the Golden Grab-bag.
Horace.Oh, I see how it is. You have been reading our newspapers. They blackguard everything, themselves included. But now, Marsy, you must allow there has been a tremendous plunge ahead in the last hundred years.
Messenger.None! A great hubbub of Invention has been made, but what of Otherdom? A terrific rush to the standard of Mammon. “Arm! arm!” is the cry, “for the great Battle of Buy and Sell.” Invention echoes, “here are swords for all and any—good or bad, right or wrong, no question.”False foods, false drinks, false houses, false public service. Invent! Invent! Railways for War to travel on, the grand science of Butchery, no question! Telegraphs to swindle by, Advertisements of any fraud, no question! And still your vaunted Progress bellows, “More Swords! More Swords!”
Horace.Sir, you are a pessimist.
(Loud cries and shouts heard offL.)
Messenger.What is that?
Horace.Accident, I suppose. Yes, man run over. Silly fool to get in the way.
Messenger.Can’t you help?
Horace.Oh, no, there’s a crowd around him already. It’s all right. They’ll take him to the hospital.
Messenger.Surely you might give some assistance.
Horace.No. I should only be in the way. The police will attend to it. It’s their business. Oh, confound it! They are bringing him this way.
(Enter crowd of people, men and women, carrying a wounded man. Murmurs of pity and sympathy from all.)
Omnes.Poor feller! Lord help ’im! Why can’t they look where they’re a driving to?
Wounded Man.Put me down, put me down, Mates! I can’t stand it!
First Man.Lend a coat, somebody! We can’t put him down in the snow.
Messenger.Lend yours.
Horace.Oh, no, I can’t! This coat cost fifty pounds!
Messenger.Take it off!
(Horaceabout to obey, reluctantly.)
Second Man.Here’s mine, and welcome.
(Wounded man is lowered on to coat on ground.)
Wounded Man.Where’s Polly?
Polly.Here I am, Jim!
Wounded Man.Oh, Polly, what will become of you and the children?
Polly.Never you mind about us, Jim. You’re the one to worry about. Is a doctor coming?
First Man.He’s coming.
Messenger.Here is your opportunity. You can help them.
Horace.I assure you I wouldn’t be justified. This sort of thing is all properly provided for. It’s all right.
First Man.Here’s the doctor. It’s Dr. Chapman.
(EnterDr. ChapmanL.)
Second Man.It was the driver’s fault. I see it all, just how it ’appened. He wasn’t looking where he was a-goin’.
Dr. Chapman.Poor fellow! I can do nothing for him. It is a hospital case. You must find a shutter.
First Man.The police called for an ambulance.
Horace.Splendid force the police.
Dr. Chapman.I’ll ease your pain a bit so they can lift you.
Wounded Man.Oh, Polly, you’ll have a bad time with the kiddies till I’m about again.
Polly.Don’t you take on, Jim. We’ll pull through somehow, though I don’t know how. (Cries.)
Messenger.Help her.
Horace.I can’t. I have only notes.
Messenger.Give them to her.
Horace.I’ve nothing less than a tenner.
Messenger.Give all that you have.
Horace.All that I have? Absurd! I can’t! I won’t!
Messenger.How much have you?
(Horacecounts his money.)
Horace.Fifty, twenty and ten.
Messenger.Give them to her.
Horace.I don’t mind giving her the tenner.
Messenger.Give them all. She will need them.
Horace.Suppose I give her the fifty?
Messenger.Give them all.
Horace.All? Mayn’t I keep the tenner? Just the tenner in case you get thirsty.
Messenger.You stone! Give all, or lie mangled beside him!
Horace.Don’t! Don’t do it! I will! I will! (ToPolly) Here, young woman, is a trifle, a mere trifle to help you. (Gives all the notes, savagely thrusting them into her hands, and turns away.)
Polly.(Dazed at the sight of the notes) Sir, you are good to us. Oh, thank you, sir! Jim, the gentleman has given us three pound notes—— Oh, no, it isn’t! It says ten pounds—— Good lummie, this says on it twenty pounds, and this fifty pounds, and he calls it a trifle!
Second Man.Why, that’s eighty quid! Why wasn’t I run over?
Polly.God bless you, sir! He’ll reward you!
Horace.Oh, don’t thank me.
Second Man.There’s some good in these stuck-up swells, after all. Three cheers for the gentleman!
Dr. Chapman.Ah, here is the ambulance!
(EnterL.ambulance, doctor and policeman. They put wounded man on a stretcher and carry him offL.Cheering back atHorace, the crowd follows.)
Dr. Chapman.Let me shake you by the hand, sir. You’ve done a noble action. Thank God we have such men as you in England still! Good night, sir, good night! You’re a brick! (Exit.)
Horace.Brick? It was a stone just now. It’s all the same.
Messenger.That was the fairest sight I have seen. Otherdom was thriving for a space. But those, I notice, were of your poor.
Horace.Well, I’d like to know how long this Otherdom lesson is to go on. You’re simply robbing me of all I have. Eighty and one, and five shillings for the policeman—eighty-one pounds five shillings since I came out with you. It’s the most expensive evening I have ever had in my life. I have just one penny left, one solitary penny. I expect you will have that before long.
Messenger.Oh, frozen nature, will nothing melt you? Is there no Summer of Love to this Winter of Self? I must be brief with you or my mission fails. Your air, your gravitation, this pitiful, pitiless spectacle—(Horacehimself)—all distress me. A woman’s cry, contempt of friends, a fellow creature’s mortal agony all fail to stir you. Then you shall learn pity as the poor learn it—by needing it.
Horace.What now? I should have thought you had caused enough unpleasantness for one evening.
(Newsboyheard offL.calling “Special!” EnterNewsboyL.)
Newsboy.Special! Extra special! Panic in the city! Great bank failure! Special, sir?
Horace.Yes. I’ll have one. (Buys a paper.)
(Door of house opens, andDiceylooks out and calls.)
Dicey.Hi, paper! (Buys a paper.)
Newsboy.Extra, extra, sir? (Diceyexits, andNewsboy,R., calling as he goes.) Extra! Panic in the city! Great bank failure! (Exit.)
Horace.Thank goodness I had that penny left! That’s the only money I have spent to-night for which I have received any value. I suppose this is a swindle; they generally are. Here it is, anyway. (In consternation as he reads.) What? What is this? The United Bank closed! My bank broke! I shall be ruined! The shares are only half paid up. The calls will utterly swamp me! Do you hear, I am ruined!
Messenger.Never mind, there are thousands of people who are not.
Horace.You scoundrel! I suspect this is your doing! It is awful! Awful!
Messenger.You can pity yourself. When anybody else was in trouble, it didn’t matter, did it? But for your own misfortunes you have quite a tender heart. Doubtless your many admiring friends will assist you.
Horace.They will be terribly distressed, I know.
Messenger.Let us observe their distress.
(Lights up in house andDiceyandMrs. Clarencediscovered together reading the paper.)
Dicey.I know Parker is a very large shareholder, if not the largest. He’ll be hit hard. Probably ruined.
Mrs. Clarence.Ruined, is he? Ah, ha! quite a new experience for him.
Horace.What a horrible woman! She’s simply amused.
Mrs. Clarence.I hope it won’t affect Miss Parker or Minnie.
Dicey.Here they come. How best can I break it to them? I must learn whether they are caught, too.
(EnterAunt MarthaandMinnie.)
Aunt.I hear something dreadful has happened in the city. Does the paper say?
Dicey.Have you or Minnie anything in the United Kingdom Bank?
Aunt.We had, but were advised to take it out, and did so. Why?
Dicey.(Showing paper) It has gone smash.
Aunt.No! Oh, what luck for us, eh, Minnie!
Mrs. Clarence.And Mr. Parker?
Aunt.Oh, he pooh-poohed our friend. Horace knew it all. He is so pig-headed! I shouldn’t wonder if he was about cleared out.
Mrs. Clarence.I can’t say I am very sorry. He has led a most selfish life, as everybody knows. He has his desert.
Messenger.You are meeting with a lot of sympathy.
Horace.It is just what I told you. It’s the other people who are selfish, not I. Why don’t you take Mrs. Clarence in hand? She’s a beauty, if you like.
Messenger.Compared to you, she is an angel.
Minnie.Poor Horace, I am sorry for him! What will he do?
Horace.There’s Minnie! She’s true—she’s true, after all!
Aunt.What will he do? Well, I suppose he will have to work, like anyone else.
Minnie.But he can’t, poor boy, he doesn’t know anything.
Horace.Doesn’t know anything? What does she mean?
Mrs. Clarence.There are plenty of fools who manage to earn their own living. A little adversity will be the making of him. It’s a terrible blow, all the same, and you are brave to face it as you are doing.
Horace.Damn it! it’s my trouble she is facing, not hers. Brave?
Minnie.You’ll find something for Horace, won’t you, dear?
Dicey.Well, I don’t know. Mr. Horace Parker has not made himself particularly pleasant to me.
Horace.A good job, too.
Minnie.Oh, Arthur, for my sake! Please!
Dicey.That’s enough. Your slightest wish is law to me. I’ll get him a berth with some friends of mine in the city. They’ll take him on as clerk to oblige me—but he’ll have to learn typewriting.
Horace.No! I’m damned if I do!
(Lights out in interior.)
Horace.You’d do credit to the Spanish Inquisition! Haven’t you done with me?
Messenger.It is only your pride that is hurt. Your heart is still as hard as ever.
Horace.Well, I am not beaten yet, if that is what you mean. I may be ruined financially, but I’ve got pages and pages of notes at home which I have taken during the last twelve months.
Messenger.About what?
Horace.About the planets. And Mars in particular. And with the information you have beenkind enough to give me to-night, I’ll write a book that will fairly make them sit up. Of course, nobody will believe it. But they will buy the book. I’ll sell my house and publish it myself. You can’t down an Englishman in one round, Marsy, my lad!
(Fire engine heard passing along offL.)
Messenger.What’s that?
Horace.Fire somewhere.
Messenger.Fire? Perhaps you could be of help there.
Horace.How absurd you are! The firemen will attend to it. That’s what they are paid for. You can’t expect me to bother about it. It is not my business.
Messenger.In Mars we do not mind our own business.
Horace.I can quite believe it.
(Another fire engine.)
Messenger.It must be something serious. There’s another engine, is it not? Won’t you go?
Horace.We shall see all about it in the papers to-morrow. I tell you I should only be in the way. Now, please may I go home?
Messenger.Not yet.
(Lights up within the house, and discovered areMrs. ClarenceandSir Edward Vivian.)
Messenger.Who is that with your friend Mrs. Clarence?
Horace.He at the dance? Why, that is Sir Edward Vivian, the great astronomer.
Messenger.You know him?
Horace.I know of him, and he knows me. Hehas a very high opinion of me. He told a friend of mine last year that I was the coming man.
Messenger.Most interesting. Listen!
Sir Edward.Parker? Horace Parker? Oh, yes, a very wealthy man, I think.
Mrs. Clarence.He was, but I hear he has lost everything in this bank smash.
Sir Edward.Indeed! I am very sorry to hear it. He was a useful subscriber. Very sad! Dear, dear!
Horace.That is a tribute from him.
Mrs. Clarence.I suppose he will be able to turn his scientific abilities to use and make a living that way?
Sir Edward.I’m afraid not.
Mrs. Clarence.Why not?
Sir Edward.Because he hasn’t any scientific abilities.
Horace.Has none?
Mrs. Clarence.You surprise me. I understood that——
Sir Edward.My dear Madame, his science is all fudge. Very praiseworthy in a wealthy man, of course. That sort of thing has to be encouraged among the rich. We need funds always. But as to any practical value—why, the thing is absurd to a degree.
Mrs. Clarence.And all the time he has been posing before us poor innocents as a veritable leader of thought.
Sir Edward.I may give you one instance. He has some fantastical ideas about life on the planet Mars. Now, all scientific men of any standing are quite agreed on this point. There is no such thing as life on the planet Mars.
Horace.We know better than that, don’t we, Marsy?
Messenger.And this is your science!
Horace.No. It’s not mine. It is his.
(Lights out in interior. EnterBellaL.hastily. She rings bell at front door.)
Messenger.Who comes now? Your servant, is it not?
Horace.Bella! What can she want? Has she missed me?
(Footman opens front door.)
Bella.Is Mr. Parker here, please? (Footman shakes his head.) Or Miss Parker, then? Quick, please! The house is on fire. (Footman admits her and the door is closed.)
Horace.The house on fire? My house on fire?
Messenger.Be calm. The firemen will attend to it. You’ll see all about it in the papers to-morrow.
Horace.My house is on fire! Let me go! (He starts to go, but is hypnotically held back.)
Messenger.Stay where you are. You would only be in the way. It is insured, of course.
Horace.Curse you, no! All my papers will be destroyed. I’m done! I’m beaten! It’s your doing! Well, kill me at once! It would be a kindness! (Sobs, thoroughly crushed.)
Messenger.Poor child of the times, crying over your alphabet.
Horace.What will become of me? What will I do?
Messenger.Where are your divisions of labor now? Yours will be to tramp the streets. Stand forth, poor shivering wretch! You area beggar in rags!
(Horace’scoat, scarf and hat are torn from him, and he appears as a ragged loafer.)
Horace.(Looking down at himself in despair) I am! I am!
Messenger.And hungry.
Horace.Ravenous!
(Horaceleans back against the railings of the house, a most forlorn object. After a pause, enter slowly fromR.theTramp.TrampspiesHoraceand sidles up to him, and takes up a similar pose by his side. Nothing said for a little, but they examine each other.)
Tramp.Know anything?
Horace.Nothing. I’m hungry. Are you?
(Trampbrings out a biscuit from his pocket.)
Tramp.Here’s a biscuit I’ve got left. It was given to me by a swell to-night. A real tip-topper. That sort of chap don’t know what hunger is.
Horace.(Eating ravenously) Doesn’t he?
Tramp.Don’t know a place to doss in, do you?
Horace.No.
Tramp.Tough, ain’t it?
Horace.Very.
Tramp.Know where you can get a job in the morning?
Horace.Wish I did.
Tramp.There’s a lot of snow to shovel.
Horace.Lots.
Tramp.But we ain’t got no shovels.
Horace.Worse luck!
Tramp.What are you?
Horace.Nothing. Just a tramp.
Tramp.Same as me. Seen better days?
Horace.Yes.
Tramp.Same as me again. Well, I like the looks of you. You seem a good sort, anyhow.
Horace.Do I? You are the first to say so to-night. I’ve heard nothing but the contrary opinion of late.
Tramp.Got a wife that nags, maybe?
Horace.Not exactly a wife. I’ve got no wife.
Tramp.Same as me again. I had a wife once, though. But she’s dead and gone. I had a little daughter, but I don’t know what become of her. What’s on here? A party?
Horace.Yes.
(Footman opens door andAuntandBellacome out, followed byDiceyandMinnie.)
Tramp.Going away. Come on, let’s call a cab.
Horace.No good, they’ve got their own car.
Aunt.Oh, how thick the snow is.
Dicey.Don’t slip, Minnie.
Tramp.Minnie! Look! There’s my Minnie! My darling little Minnie!
Horace.Where?
Tramp.There in the doorway, with that swell! It’s my Minnie! I’ll swear to it! The living image of her mother! I’m going to speak to her.
Horace.(Holding him back) No, no, man. Think how you will disgrace her.
Tramp.Disgrace her? Why, she will be proud of her father.
Horace.See, she has someone to care for her. Why break in upon her life? You have forfeited your claim.
Tramp.Not much I haven’t. She could give me a fine lift up, and then I’d help you.
Horace.Not if I die in the gutter! It may beyour right. But don’t drag her down to your level and mine. Stop him, Marsy! You can.
Messenger.(Waves his hand toTramp, who seems to give up his purpose.) A thought for another. The fire is catching.
Tramp.Well, you’re a rum ’un! No wonder you are down on your luck. A man must think of himself in this world a little bit. But you’re a good sort. I won’t speak to the girl, though she is my daughter. See here now, I’ve got an idea.
Horace.I know you have. Lots of them.
Tramp.How did you know that?
Horace.I guessed it. (Aside) I hope he won’t recognize me.
Tramp.The people will be going home presently. Let’s get to work and clear the snow for them to get to their cars. We might pick up a bit that way.
Horace.Capital, but we have no shovels.
Tramp.Can’t get shovels. Look around and see if you can’t find a bit of board to scrape with.
Horace.A bit of board to scrape with! I recognize the inventor.
Tramp.Here, what’s the matter with that barrel?
Horace.Lor’, I should never have thought of that.
Tramp.Look out for the Bobby!
(Trampkicks barrel apart and tears out a couple of staves.)
Tramp.You start on the steps.
(They clear a path from door to offL.)
Horace.(As they work) I wonder how much we shall make?
Tramp.Sixpence or two if we’re in luck. Halves, partner?
Horace.Halves, if you say so. Halves, partner.
Tramp.Seems to me I’ve met you somewhere.
Horace.Thunder, he recognizes me! (Aside.)
Tramp.Didn’t I see you last August down Margate way with a piano-organ and a monkey?
Horace.(Quite boldly) Very likely.
Tramp.I thought I’d met you before. Ah, you have come down a bit since then. About ready for them.
(Footmanat door andLadyandFirst Gentlemancome out.)
Tramp.(Most cheerily) Cleared the snow for you, Lady. Made a nice path, Sir. (Touching his hat.)
Horace.(Faintly imitating and touching his hat) Cleared the snow for you, Lady. Made a nice path, Sir.
First Gentleman.Sorry I haven’t got any coppers. Do take an answer.
Tramp.Shall I call a cab, sir?
Horace.Shall I call a cab, sir?
First Gentleman.No, no! (Exit with ladyL.)
Tramp.That was a frost. Here’s some more.
(Two gentlemen and a lady come out.)
Tramp.Beg pardon, sir. Look what we’ve done. Ain’t it nice and handy for the lady? (Less cheerily.)
Horace.(Rather more forcibly) See what we’ve done. Ain’t it nice and handy for the lady?
Second Gentleman.All muffled up or I would— (Exit with others of the party.)
Horace.I’ve said the same thing myself a dozen times.
Tramp.Ain’t making our fortunes, are we, partner?
Horace.The stingy brutes! Never mind, we’ll try again.
(Sir Edward Vivianand two ladies come out.)
Tramp.We cleared the snow away for you, sir. Can’t you spare us a trifle, sir?
Sir Edward.Nonsense! The servants of the house cleared it.
Tramp.No, sir, we done it, sir. Me and my partner.
Sir Edward.You couple of impostors! Why, where are your shovels?
Horace.(Firing up) We cleared it, and if you don’t like it you can bally well walk in the snow! (ShouldersSir Edwardoff the path into the snow.)
Sir Edward.You impudent loafer! Hi, Policeman! (EnterPolicemanL.) This ruffian assaulted me.
Policeman.Come out of that, you two! I know you! You’re old hands! Be off, both of you!
(TrampdragsHoraceaway.)
Policeman.Cab, sir? (Very sweetly.)
Sir Edward.Thank you, Policeman. (Gives money.)
(ExeuntSir Edward, ladies andPolicemanL.)
Messenger.Fine force, the police!
Horace.I was nearly starting a labor riot. Well, that’s what is at the bottom of most of them.
Tramp.(Thoroughly broken) My ideas don’tseem to come to anything any more. I’m a failure, and a bad ’un. I’ve been feeling bad all day, and this has about done for me. (Falls down.)
(Horacegoes to him and kneels down to him, trying to rouse him up.)
Horace.Don’t talk like that! It is a splendid idea, and there are plenty more to come out.
Tramp.I only wants burying, Partner, and they’ll have to do that. Damn ’em!
Horace.You must pull yourself together. Marsy, won’t you help him?
Messenger.You can’t make me responsible for that dirty beggar’s condition.
Horace.Ah, don’t mock me! I’m beaten! I give in.
Messenger.If you had your money again, you’d just go your old way, and leave him to die.
Horace.That’s gone, and I wouldn’t have it back at that price. Only help him now.
Messenger.Try at the house.
Horace.They know me there.
Messenger.What of that?
Horace.I wouldn’t like Mrs. Clarence to see me in this condition.
Messenger.Your friend is dying.
(Horacepulls himself together and knocks loudly at the door.Footmanopens door.)
Horace.There’s a poor fellow dying of cold and hunger. Ask Mrs. Clarence if she will——
(Mrs. Clarenceappears behindFootman.)
Mrs. Clarence.What is it, John?
Horace.There’s a poor fellow outside dying of cold.
Mrs. Clarence.This is not a hospital. John, shut the door.
Horace.(Holding the door open) Mrs. Clarence, you must not refuse this service.
Mrs. Clarence.And pray, who are you?
Horace.Horace Parker, a ruined man as you know—a tramp as you see.
Mrs. Clarence.John, do you hear me?
Horace.Mrs. Clarence—may he lie on the mat where your dog sleeps?
Mrs. Clarence.John—— (Retires, and door is shut inHorace’sface.)
Horace.You hear? What shall I do for him, Marsy?
Messenger.Well done, my pupil!
Tramp.You’re a good ’un. I said it all along.
Messenger.Feel in your pocket.
Horace.My pocket? What for? What’s this? A note! A pound note! Halves, Partner! Halves! (Horacebending overTramp, succoring him.)
CURTAIN