A MESSAGE FROM MARS
ACT I
Horace Parker’shouse, London, W. A living room with doorsR.andL.Large windowC.with curtains to draw. A sofa in front of window. A coat rack, or closet with curtain, containing three overcoats ofHorace’sand golf caps and sticks,L.TableL.on which are whiskey bottle, syphons, glasses, and jar of biscuits. OnR.is a fireplace with fire burning. Up of fire is small stand. Below is a chair. A table in front of fire with armchair between it and fire. Another chairL.of table. A large standing oil lamp near tableR.with red shade. This should have a greenish figure on a classical style, represented as holding or steadying the lamp standard. This figure is supposed to become theMessenger from Marsin the dream, only enlarged. The figure can, however, be omitted.At Rise:EnterBellaR.Lights lamp or turns it up. Draws curtains. Attends to fire, and exitsL.EnterMinnie Templar, dressed for a ball, followed byAunt MarthaR.
Horace Parker’shouse, London, W. A living room with doorsR.andL.Large windowC.with curtains to draw. A sofa in front of window. A coat rack, or closet with curtain, containing three overcoats ofHorace’sand golf caps and sticks,L.TableL.on which are whiskey bottle, syphons, glasses, and jar of biscuits. OnR.is a fireplace with fire burning. Up of fire is small stand. Below is a chair. A table in front of fire with armchair between it and fire. Another chairL.of table. A large standing oil lamp near tableR.with red shade. This should have a greenish figure on a classical style, represented as holding or steadying the lamp standard. This figure is supposed to become theMessenger from Marsin the dream, only enlarged. The figure can, however, be omitted.
At Rise:EnterBellaR.Lights lamp or turns it up. Draws curtains. Attends to fire, and exitsL.EnterMinnie Templar, dressed for a ball, followed byAunt MarthaR.
Minnie.(Looking about her) He’s not here!
Aunt.Not here?
Minnie.No. Where can he be?
Aunt.(At fire) Extraordinary!
Minnie.Auntie, we shall be late. Do you hear? We shall be late.
Aunt.Yes, dear, I think you will.
Minnie.He promised to go, didn’t he?
Aunt.Yes, dear, he certainly did.
Minnie.I do call it a shame. Horace is the meanest, most selfish——
Aunt.Quite right, dear, he is.
Minnie.He thinks of nothing but his books, and his papers, and his horrid little stars.
Aunt.Quite true, dear, he does.
Minnie.Then why do you let him do it?
Aunt.I?
Minnie.Yes, you. You know he is engaged to me, and yet you allow him to treat me as if we had been married for years. (Up to window.)
Aunt.My dear Minnie—(SitsL.of table)—if Horace is a little thoughtless, surely it isn’t my fault. I suppose he has forgotten all about the dance——
Minnie.Forgotten! (ComesC.) I’ll tell you what it is. Aunt Martha, you will have to go instead. (Goes to fire.)
Aunt.Minnie, I can’t. You know, dear, it is quite impossible.
Minnie.Impossible? Why?
Aunt.Well, dear, you know that horrid Louise hasn’t sent home my dress.
Minnie.Nonsense, Aunt Martha. You’ve lots of dresses.
Aunt.Not one fit to be seen. You know that perfectly well.
Minnie.There’s your plum-colored silk——
Aunt.My dear child. I wore that all last winter.
Minnie.Only about three times. Then there’s your yellow satin.
Aunt.You know I look a perfect fright in that. Yellow doesn’t suit me.
Minnie.Nothing suits you to-night. I declareyou are as bad as Horace! I suppose I shall have to give up the dance. It is a shame!
Aunt.My dear, I would have gone with pleasure if that odious Louise hadn’t disappointed me. But you wouldn’t have me make an exhibition of myself. One must have some pride.
Minnie.Pride? You’re all pride. I do believe if the house were on fire, and you cut off in a top room, you’d decline the fire-escape unless you were dressed in the latest Paris fashion. (Goes up to window.)
Aunt.Well, upon my word, dear, you are not very polite. I must say that I am very sorry that you should be disappointed about your dance, but I don’t believe you’d have cared so very much if you hadn’t known you were wearing a particularly pretty frock.
Minnie.It isn’t that at all.
Aunt.But it is—a very pretty frock. And it suits you quite wonderfully.
Minnie.Does it, Auntie? (Coming toAunt.) What I meant was I go for the dancing—principally. I do love dancing. Auntie, don’t you think you could manage? (Kisses her. Front door heard to slam.) Ah, that must be Horace.
(EnterHoraceR.in fur coat.Minnieruns to him and kisses him.Horaceputs copy of “The Astronomer” on table.)
Minnie.Oh, Horace!
Horace.Beastly cold. (Goes to fire.)
Minnie.Horace, I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve been waiting such a time.
Horace.Waiting? What for?
Minnie.Why, for you.
Aunt.Have you got a cab?
Horace.Cab? What for?
Aunt.Well, you know the horses are coughing.
Horace.Coughing. No wonder—everybody’s coughing, this beastly weather. I’m coughing—— (Coughs.)
Minnie.(At top of table) Poor dear. How good of you to go out. When will it be here?
Horace.What?
Minnie.The cab.
Horace.I don’t know what you are talking about.
Aunt.That odious Louise hasn’t sent home my dress. But there, you two will be all right without me.
Horace.Without you? Oh, yes, we’ll manage. (Taking off coat—puts it down on chairR.below fireplace.)
Minnie.Oh, Auntie, he isn’t dressed yet.
Aunt.Horace, you’ll be late. You’ll miss ever so many dances.
Horace.What on earth are you talking about?
Aunt.Aren’t you going to the Clarences’ dance?
Horace.Certainly not.
Minnie.Oh, Horace!
Aunt.But you are not going to disappoint Minnie!
Minnie.Horace, please.
Aunt.Mrs. Clarence will be offended if none of us go.
Horace.Well, then, go, by all means. There’s nothing to prevent you.
Aunt.But Minnie can’t go without you.
Horace.Why not?
Minnie.Auntie’s dress hasn’t come from Louise’s, so she can’t go.
Aunt.You promised to take her.
Horace.I’m not going out again to-night.
Minnie.Oh, Horace, how unkind!
Aunt.I call it perfectly mean.
Horace.It is much too cold. Besides, I want to read.
Aunt.I never knew anyone as selfish as you, Horace.
Horace.Well, what keeps you? Why don’t you go?
Aunt.You know I can’t. I haven’t got a dress.
Horace.Well, go without it.
Aunt.Horace!
Horace.I mean, you can easily find one that will do.
Aunt.I think men are perfect fools. One that will do, indeed. Now don’t speak to me any more.
Horace.Kindly listen to me. In spite of my frightful cough—(Slight cough)—I’ve been out in the bitter snow to get this copy of the “Astronomer.” It contains an article on life on the planet Mars, in which you know I am much interested. And you ask me to put on thin dress clothes and go out again, and run tremendous risks with my delicate throat and supersensitive lungs, and all for what? To see a lot of fools capering about and making idiots of themselves until four or five in the morning. I think you are most inconsiderate—
Aunt.Horace——
Horace.—and unreasonable, and selfish.
Aunt.The impertinence of the man.
Minnie.Oh, never mind. I didn’t understand that you had anything in particular to do.
Horace.Now, there’s a sensible little girl.
Minnie.Sit down here—(Armchair)—and make yourself thoroughly comfortable.
Horace.(Sitting down, but feeling in all his pockets) One who realizes that one cannot always be running about from place to place, neglecting the serious interests of life.
Minnie.What is it? What are you looking for?
Horace.My cigar case. I fancy I must have left it in my room. (MinnierunsL.to get it.) Wait a minute. Did I put it down as I came through the hall? (MinnierunsR.) Wait, wait, I’m not certain I took it out with me at all this morning, in which case it surely will be in my study. (MinnierunsL.) Now, don’t run about. You make me giddy. Do not run about. Have a thorough search. (ExitMinnieL.)
Aunt.Horace, you are going too far.
Horace.Not I. I am stopping at home.
Aunt.You know what I mean. With Minnie.
Horace.Ah, she’s a dear little girl.
Aunt.She’s one in a thousand.
Horace.She is.
Aunt.She’s much too good for you.
Horace.I don’t know about that. She’s quite good enough.
Aunt.You are perfectly detestable.
Horace.Think so?
Aunt.Yes, and you’re growing worse every day. (GoesL.) You are simply wrapped up in selfishness, and egotism, and conceit.
Horace.Merely because I prefer a quiet evening to myself and my books? Because I prefer scientific discovery to heartless frivolity? Absurd.
Aunt.You are forgetting your duty to the girl you are going to make your wife. You seem to think because she was adopted by your mother you have the right to order her about as if she were a servant.
Horace.You know you are talking absolute rot.
Aunt.You make her feel her dependent position, and I think that very unfair.
Horace.But, hang it all, she is not dependent. My mother provided for her sufficiently.
Aunt.Yes, I know, but everything comes from our family, and you never allow her to forget the fact. She considers she owes you a debt of gratitude.
Horace.If it comes to that—well, she does.
Aunt.You ought never to let her feel that. You should try to win her heart.
Horace.Oh, bother. I have won her heart. We are engaged.
Aunt.Then try to deserve it.
Horace.But I do deserve it.
Aunt.Indeed! And pray, when are you going to marry her?
Horace.Oh, that’s all right. There’s no hurry about that.
Aunt.No hurry? Horace, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.
Horace.(AuntgoesL.) Now, my dear Aunt, don’t you think you are very unwise to try and precipitate matters? You have heard that people who marry in haste very often——
Aunt.(Returning to table) You’ll have plenty of leisure for repentance shortly, but it will be for quite a different reason. Minnie will wake up presently and see you as you really are. She is a most attractive girl. You’ll feel pretty miserable when you have lost her.
Horace.Ridiculous. Minnie knows when she is well off. Hullo. I could have sworn I felt in that pocket! (Finds cigar case.)
Aunt.What is it? (Sees case. Aside) Hopeless, hopeless.
Horace.That’s a bit of bad luck, isn’t it?
Aunt.Bad luck?
Horace.I might have been smoking all thistime. (Lights up.) There’s nothing like a good cigar, after all.
Aunt.There’s nothing like a good wife.
Horace.Well, of course I don’t know anything about that.
Aunt.I believe you prefer the cigar.
Horace.To women? In some respects I think I do.
Aunt.Oh, do you?
Horace.For one thing, a cigar doesn’t talk. And when you have finished with one, you can begin another.
(EnterMinnieL.)
Minnie.I can’t find your cigar case anywhere. You’ve found it!
Horace.In my pocket all the time.
Minnie.(Goes to him and places cushions in chair) There, now. Are you nice and comfortable?
Horace.No. Not at all.
Aunt.Don’t speak to him, dear. He isn’t worth it.
Minnie.Now, Auntie dear, I must make my boy cosy, and then I think I shall go to bed.
Aunt.What? Give up the dance?
Minnie.Oh, never mind about that.
Aunt.Horace, I ask you, have you the heart to let Minnie sacrifice her pleasure for you in this way?
Minnie.But, Auntie, it doesn’t matter, really it doesn’t.
Aunt.I’m very angry with him.
Horace.I am not sacrificing her pleasure, it’s you. Why don’t you go?
Aunt.You know I can’t.
Horace.There’s nothing to prevent you, except your absurd vanity.
Minnie.For shame, Horace!
Aunt.Vanity indeed! How dare you?
Horace.It’s perfectly true. It’s just your nonsense about a dress.
Aunt.Very well, then, you shall see. I will go. I don’t care how I look.
Horace.And I am sure I don’t, either.
Aunt.Minnie shan’t be deprived of her evening. I’ll put on my yellow satin and look a perfect fright.
Horace.I’ll believe you when I see you.
Minnie.I have quite given up the idea, Auntie.
Aunt.But I haven’t. You shall see, Horace, I keep my word.
Horace.Oh, devil doubt you!
Aunt.Whatever it costs me, I’ll do my duty.
Minnie.I don’t want to inflict this on you, Auntie dear. I’m quite content to go to bed.
Aunt.Content. Oh, yes, I understand your content. But you shall go, my dear, to as many balls and parties as possible. You shall go to Ascot and Henley and Goodwood and Cowes. We’ll find escorts easily enough. You shall see plenty of new faces. I’ll take care of that. Vanity, indeed! I’ll teach him to call me vain! (Starts to exitL.whenBellaentersR.with box.)
Bella.From Madame Louise, ma’m.
Aunt.The dress?
Bella.Yes, ma’m.
Aunt.What a relief!
Horace.What a relief!
Minnie.Auntie, isn’t that splendid luck?
Bella.Madame Louise hopes it will be in time.
Aunt.Just in time. Take it up to my room at once. (ExitBellaL.) I won’t keep you waitingany longer than I can help. You’ll find Horace such a delightful companion, so witty and entertaining. Oh, don’t speak to him, then you won’t get any uncivil answers. (ExitL.)
Horace.(After a pause, looks up from his paper) Got the jumps.
Minnie.You must have said something to upset her. She isn’t often like that.
Horace.I should hope not.
Minnie.She’ll be all right to-morrow.
Horace.That’s the worst of women, they’re so illogical, aren’t they?
Minnie.I suppose they are.
Horace.You know, she thinks I ought to have gone with you to-night. That’s because she only looks at it from her own standpoint. Can’t take a broad view of the case.
Minnie.Is yours the broad view?
Horace.Naturally.
Minnie.How did you acquire this breadth of mind?
Horace.Can hardly say that. Just seems to belong to the masculine intellect. Men see all round a subject. Women don’t. They’re circumscribed. Can’t see over the hedge.
Minnie.Could you teach me to see over the hedge?
Horace.I might be able to a certain extent.
Minnie.Will you begin by explaining your broad view to-night?
Horace.That was quite simple. Aunt Martha wanted me to go because she didn’t want to go herself. The only view she could take.
Minnie.And you?
Horace.Of course my viewpoint was very different. I had already been out in the snow once to get this month’s “Astronomer,” and there wasn’t any reason why I should go out again. There is adiscussion about life on Mars this month, which I am following closely. It wouldn’t have done Aunt Martha any good to stop at home and read the article, because, being practically devoid of brains, she wouldn’t have understood a word about it. Then again, women ought to go to dances, which are got up entirely for their benefit. Whereas men hate that kind of frivolity. So it was obviously her duty to go.
Minnie.I see.
Horace.You see, Aunt Martha couldn’t take in all these points because her mind isn’t broad enough to grasp them. The consequence was her view was very narrow and rather selfish.
Minnie.You certainly put it very clearly.
Horace.I am glad you can appreciate my reasoning.
Minnie.Oh, I can. But one thing I see very plainly, and that is that you both are putting yourselves to inconvenience on my account.
Horace.No, dear, I assure you I am not.
Minnie.That’s true. Thank you for reminding me. But I hate to think I should be so much trouble to you both. Of course I know I have no real claim upon you. It isn’t as if I were your very own sister.
Horace.I should think not, indeed. You’re going to be my wife. Just think of that.
(Minniegoes to him above tableL.)
Minnie.Horace, tell me. Do you love me? Really, really love me? Or are you going to marry me because it was your mother’s wish? (Horacekisses her hand.) You mustn’t be angry with me. Perhaps I expect too much, but I think I should be happier if you were just a little bit more—ah, moreloving in your manner. Oh, Horace, Horace, I don’t want you to marry me out of pity!
Horace.My dear child, don’t be silly! (Takes her hand.) I do love you! I love you most awfully, but I am not what is called a demonstrative man. Few scientific men are, I fancy.
Minnie.Do you know, I’m almost sorry you are such a scientific man.
Horace.(Minnietakes his left hand) Minnie!
Minnie.Love and science don’t seem to agree.
Horace.Oh, yes, they do. But you don’t understand. I love you in a scientific way.
Minnie.I think I like the old way best. But I suppose I am silly and narrow minded like Aunt Martha. (Kisses him.) There, we won’t say any more about it. Are you comfortable?
Horace.No, not at all. You might get another pillow.
Minnie.(Does so.) Shall I put you out the whiskey?
Horace.Um—yes—you may as well. (Minniegets whiskey from tableL.and two syphons and jar of biscuits. Aside) Dear little girl. How she does love me! I must get her a ring, or a pin, or a thimble to-morrow. That will make her perfectly happy.
Minnie.I’ll pour you out a glass. Say when.
Horace.Upon my word, you are a perfect treasure!
Minnie.Oh, Horace, do you really mean it? (Pauses in pouring.)
Horace.Of course I mean it—but go on pouring, don’t stop. Now.
Minnie.Don’t sit up too late, dear. You mustn’t work too hard. You’ll strain your eyes.
Horace.No danger, but I shall want some more oil in the lamp. Will you please tell Bella.
Minnie.Certainly. Now promise me you won’t tire yourself. (Kisses him.) Promise.
Horace.All right, dear, I promise.
Minnie.For my sake.
(Horacekisses her with a touch of finality.)
Minnie.Now I’ll see how Auntie is getting on. (Goes to doorL.)
Horace.Minnie.
Minnie.(Returning, expecting a caress) Yes?
Horace.I was going to say——
Minnie.Yes, darling?
Horace.(Changing his mind) You won’t forget about the oil?
(EnterAuntin new dress, followed byBellawith wraps, which are put on sofa up stage. ExitBellaR.)
Aunt.Here I am, dear. Quite ready. Haven’t I been quick?
Minnie.Oh, Auntie, you are a picture! You ought to be framed.
Horace.(Aside) And hung.
Aunt.You little flatterer. I think it is rather nice myself. Put on your cloak, dear. Is the cab ready?
Minnie.I don’t know—I don’t think that——
Aunt.What? Do you mean to say he hasn’t ordered a cab? Horace! Horace!
Minnie.Don’t disturb him. He is reading the “Astronomer.”
Aunt.The “Astronomer,” indeed! I’ll make him see stars! Horace! Horace! (At table.MinnieL.)
Horace.Oh, what is it? What is it?
Aunt.Have you ordered a cab?
Horace.I’ve ordered nothing but a little peace and quiet which doesn’t come at my call.
Aunt.Well, why not? Horace, why have you not ordered a cab?
Horace.Oh, bother! Don’t interrupt, for goodness’ sake!
Aunt.(Snatches his paper away and throws it over her shoulder) Why haven’t you ordered a cab?
Horace.Why should I order a cab?
Aunt.It is the very least you could do. Go and order one at once, please.
Horace.Where are the servants?
Aunt.Bella is not engaged to run errands outside the house. I daren’t ask cook, and Jane has company.
Horace.Well, give her company a bob and let him go.
Aunt.Her company, as it happens, is not a he. You must go.
Horace.Please, and clearly understand, I am not going out in the cold again to-night. You seem to forget that I am in a very delicate state of health, and if I were to venture out on a night like this the consequences might be most serious.
Minnie.Perhaps I could go.
Aunt.It’s abominable of him!
(EnterBellawith note.)
Bella.A note, ma’m.
Aunt.For me?
Bella.Yes, ma’m.
Aunt.(Reading note) “Dear Miss Parker. May I have the pleasure of taking you and Miss Templar to Mrs. Clarence’s dance this evening”—
Horace.Capital! There is your escort.
Aunt.“My car is quite at your disposal.”
Horace.And there’s your cab. Sublime Providence!
Aunt.Did the gentleman come himself?
Bella.Yes, ma’m. He is waiting in the hall.
(Minnielooks over letter.)
Aunt.Show him in at once here.
Horace.Don’t bring him in here. He can stay in the hall.
Aunt.Certainly not. Show him in here, Bella.
(ExitBellaR.)
Horace.Well, who is my blessed preserver?
Aunt.Mr. Dicey.
Horace.What, Arthur Dicey? That Stock Exchange fellow?
Aunt.A charming young man.
Horace.A brainless idiot!
Aunt.A perfect gentleman, and besides, I hear he is enormously rich.
Minnie.How kind and thoughtful of him! He always seems to be doing the right thing just at the right moment.
Horace.Minnie, I don’t at all care that you should go with this fellow to-night. He is not at all the kind of man I wish you to be seen going about with.
Minnie.He is always so attentive.
Horace.I dare say he is. I don’t choose that you go with him.
Aunt.What dog-in-the-manger attitude is this? You won’t take her yourself nor let anyone else.
Horace.I have expressed my wish on the matter and I propose to have my way, so——
(EnterBella, showing inMr. DiceyR.)
Bella.Mr. Dicey.
Aunt.This is a most opportune kindness you are showing us, Mr. Dicey. We gladly accept your escort. (Shakes hands.)
Minnie.(Shaking hands) You can hardly guess how much obliged we are to you. Thank you for thinking of us.
Dicey.The pleasure is doubled if I am of real service.
Minnie.Somehow or other, we had forgotten to order a cab.
Aunt.Yes.Wehad forgotten!
Horace.I was just getting ready to run down the street after one.
Aunt.So of course my nephew is very grateful to you. Aren’t you, Horace? Now he will be able to pursue his scientific studies without fear of interruption.
Dicey.Aren’t you coming with us, Mr. Parker?
Horace.Well, I had not thought of doing so.
Minnie.If it had not been for you, Mr. Dicey, I doubt whether any of us would have gone. We were very nearly giving up going.
Dicey.Have I really saved the situation for you? That is jolly good luck. May I claim an extra number of dances on the strength of it?
Minnie.As many as you wish.
(DiceyhelpsAuntwith her cloak.)
Dicey.Thank you so much.
Minnie.Won’t you come, Horace? I hardly care to go without you.
Horace.Your dances are all booked, it seems. You have none left.
Minnie.Oh, yes, I have, for those who have the grace to ask for them. Mr. Dicey will havehis fair share. He dances beautifully and our steps suit each other to perfection.
Horace.By which you mean to say you dance beautifully, too?
Minnie.No, I leave it to others to say that. (Turns awayL.)
Dicey.And I wish to be the first to say it.
Horace.My aunt is ready, I see. If you will take her, we will follow a little later.
Dicey.I thought you were out of town, or I should not have come. But there is plenty of room in the car. Won’t you and your sister come with us?
Horace.Miss Templar is not my sister.
Dicey.Your adopted sister, I should have said.
Horace.And my intended wife. (Aside) That’s a nasty one for Master Dicey.
Dicey.Pardon me. That I did not know. May I offer my congratulations?
Minnie.Thank you, Mr. Dicey, but it is a little early for congratulations. We laugh it over between ourselves sometimes in a brotherly-sisterly sort of way without much serious consideration what marriage means. There’s nothing settled yet. Will you see Auntie to the car while I get my wrap?
Aunt.Good night, Horace.
Horace.Good night, Aunt.
Dicey.Good-night, Mr. Parker.
Horace.Good night, sir.
(ExeuntAuntandDiceyR.)
Minnie.(Coming toL.of table and taking off her engagement ring) I think you will understand me when I say, “Here is your ring.” You have given me a glimpse of such a love-cheapening life that I have grown afraid. I believed in you, Horace, though I was never blind to your faults. Ihad hoped I might help you to conquer them, but I realize now the task is beyond me. A stronger spirit would have to be invoked. Without your love I should fail, and I see now you have none to offer me. The devotion of your life is for yourself and yourself alone.
Horace.And all this fuss because I don’t want you to go with a silly ass to a dance to-night.
Minnie.No. For your utter lack of consideration. I might hurt my dear friend, Kitty Clarence, by not going to her dance. Oh, that was nothing! Disappoint Auntie—nothing—give up my own pleasure—nothing—insult a visitor—nothing, nothing at all. Here it is, Horace. (Puts ring on table.) I cannot wear it. The gold seems to have gone out of it. (ExitR.)
Horace.And that’s the girl I’ve been talking to about broad views! (Working round table to paper on the floor.) Well, I’ve met some narrow-minded people in my life, but she is far and away the most narrow-minded of the lot. (Picks up paper.) It’s very disappointing, that’s what it is, very disappointing. Women are all alike. No liberality, no generosity. You think you have found an exception, you pour out all the wealth of your priceless love upon her, and the moment the shoe pinches—there you are. I suppose she will want to make it up to-morrow, then I shall have to put down my foot and come to a thorough understanding. Confound that fellow Dicey! It’s all his fault. I never ought to have allowed him to take her. I ought to have gone myself. Damn Dicey! Now for this article. I suppose I’d better read it. Don’t feel a bit like it. However, it may act as a sedative. (Settles down to read.)
Bella.(EnteringR.) Please, sir, there’s a man wants to see you.
Horace.A what wants to what?
Bella.A man to see you, sir.
Horace.What does he want?
Bella.I don’t know, sir. He says he has a letter for you, sir.
Horace.Why didn’t he give it to you?
Bella.He wouldn’t trust it out of his hand, sir. He says he must give it to you himself.
Horace.What sort of a man?
Bella.Well, sir, he seems to think he is a respectable sort of a man, but he’s what I should call a tramp.
Horace.A tramp? Well, I can’t see him, then. I can’t see him. Tell him to come again in the morning.
Bella.I told him that, sir.
Horace.Well, what did he say?
Bella.Well, sir, he said he was a persevering kind of man, but he’s what I should call obstinate.
Horace.What do you mean?
Bella.He said he wouldn’t go away till he had seen you—and I don’t think he will.
Horace.It is too maddening. I can’t have one moment to myself. Very well, show him in. Show him in. (ExitBella.) First of all Aunt Martha, then that fool Dicey, then Minnie and now a tramp.
(EnterBellawithTramp. ExitBellaR.)
Horace.Well, what is it? What is it? What do you want?
Tramp.Mr. Brampton told me to give you this. (Hands letter.)
Horace.Mr. Brampton—of Coventry?
Tramp.Yes, sir.
Horace.(Reading) “—might be able to give him some work.” I haven’t any work to give you. “Clever workman—seen better days.”
Tramp.That’s true enough. I never see any worse than what I’m getting now.
Horace.I’m afraid I cannot help you.
Tramp.Don’t be hard, Guv’ner. I’m cold and tired. I’ve walked all the way from Coventry.
Horace.Walked? Why, Mr. Brampton says here he has given you the money for your railway fare.
Tramp.So he did, sir. I had a bit of bad luck with that.
Horace.What? Lost it, I suppose. (Half laughing.)
Tramp.Not exactly, sir.
Horace.What then?
Tramp.Spent it.
Horace.How? Drink?
Tramp.Yes, drink and meat. There’s no crime in that, is there? Even a tramp must eat.
Horace.Yes, and drink. Well, and when the money was gone——
Tramp.I had to walk. That’s all.
Horace.Well, that’s what you will have to do now. I can’t help you.
Tramp.Just my luck! (Going.) Beg pardon, Guv’ner, do you feel like standing me a drink before I go, just to keep out the cold?
Horace.(Shrugs his shoulders) Help yourself.
Tramp.(Drinks glass of whiskeyMinniehad poured out) Ah, that’s good! That brings back old times. You wouldn’t think, Guv’ner, that I was a prosperous man once. (Horaceindicates that whiskey is responsible.) No, it wasn’t drink that ruined me. Drink may have kept me down, but it didn’t throw me. I’m an engineer by trade—leastways, I was, but I ain’t worked at it now these five years. Thank you kindly for the whiskey. Good night, sir.
Horace.Care to take another?
Tramp.Thank you, sir, I would. (Helps himself.) Your health, Guv’ner! You wouldn’t think there was much of the inventor about me? Would you? But I’ve got some ideas, good uns too, only I ain’t got the capital, see?
Horace.I see.
Tramp.I’ll let you into one of my ideas, Guv’ner, if you’ll take it up. It’ll make your fortune.
Horace.Thanks. I have all the money I require.
Tramp.Have you, now? I haven’t, that’s the difference. Feels pretty comfortable, doesn’t it? I was doing very well once, over there in the States.
Horace.America?
Tramp.Yes. They’re pretty smart there, but I showed them I was as good as they. I made a steam valve that’s on most boilers to-day. Yes, I did. Just me. I got ten thousand dollars down before I got my papers out. But my partner got ahead of me. I never saw another cent. I fought him as long as the money lasted. But it didn’t go far in the Courts ofJustice. It was the Law as downed me, Guv’ner. Drink?—only damned me.
Horace.Too bad. You must try again.
Tramp.Not much chance of that. One can’t do anything without a little capital, and who’s going to trust me? No, I’ll pick up a living how I can.
Horace.How do you pick up a living?
Tramp.Anyhow. Running after cabs.
Horace.Surely to goodness, nobody pays you for doing that?
Tramp.If I’m lucky I gets the job of lifting down the luggage.
Horace.Oh, that’s it.
Tramp.There’s a lovely fall of snow to-night.
Horace.Cold comfort for you, I should have thought.
Tramp.I may get a job shovelling it in the morning—if I am in luck.
Horace.Why don’t you go back to your old trade?
Tramp.Why don’t I go back to my old trade? Why don’t I? Who’s going to take me on? Who’ll give me a job? Will you?
Horace.I told you I can’t do anything for you.
Tramp.Then what’s the good of asking? But it don’t matter. I’ve got nothing to live for now. Nothing to save for. The Law broke me up, killed the missus.
Horace.You were married, then?
Tramp.Yes.
Horace.Any children?
Tramp.One. God forgive me. (Affected.)
Horace.Care to take another? Some biscuits if you like.
Tramp.I ain’t proud. Thank you, Guv’ner. You’re a good un. I worked my way back to England only to find my missus dead and the little un gone.
Horace.Gone? How gone?
Tramp.The people she had been with had left, and I never could find out what had become of her. Poor little Minnie!
Horace.Minnie!
Tramp.That was her name, sir.
Horace.Minnie? (Rising and his manner hardening.)
Tramp.Everything gone. Why should I care? Care! I beg pardon, sir. The whiskey set me talking. My story can’t interest you. Good night, sir. Perhaps if I come back in a day or two you might know of a job.
Horace.No. Quite useless. I can do nothing for you. Get along, now.
Tramp.Good night, sir. (ExitTrampR.)
Horace.Minnie! Minnie! How dare he mention her name? Of course she couldn’t possibly have anything to do with him. But it did give me a turn. Poor devil, I suppose I was rather rough on him. Never mind, serves him right. I dare say he deserved it. Anyhow, it will prevent him coming back again to-morrow. (About to drink.) Confound him, he has used my glass! (Fetches another from tableL.) It seems to me I am curiously unlucky. I can’t think why people are so unfair to me. I’m such a good sort. I don’t know anyone who has a better temper or a more generous, open disposition. I expect that is the secret of it. (Puts whiskey, glasses and biscuits on small table above fireplace.) Other people are so mean, and selfish, and unfair. (Sits in armchair.) Now let me get on with it. (Reads “Astronomer.”) Where was I? Ah, yes, here we are. (Reads.) “Latest observations have revealed strange lights which some astronomers believe to be signals put out in the hope of an answer from Earth.” I don’t believe a word of it. It may be possible, though. If Mars is inhabited, I wonder what they are like. Are they savages, or are they ahead of us? (Lamp flickers a little.) Confound it! The lamp’s going out. Minnie never told her. Forgets all about a poor fellow left alone in the dark. Most selfish of her. (Turns over page and reads by firelight as lamp fails more and more.) Ah, just the end. (Reads.) “The advent of a messenger or an army from Mars should not seem to us of the twentieth century a greater marvel than did the shining sails of Columbus to the aborigines of America. What an unfolding of wisdom would their coming yield. What problems could they solve, what new onesset us. The mind fails in contemplation. Too vast—vast.” (Lamp goes out.Horacefalls asleep. EnterA Messenger from Mars.)