THE FIRST STONEA Play in One Act
A Play in One Act
Characters:
SceneA committee-room on the top floor of a house in a small provincial town. Back of the stage, centre, there is a door, opening inwards on to the stage. To the right of the door, a few pegs are on the wall for hanging coats, etc. Right of the stage, is a good-sized window, showing distant views of chimney-pots outside. Left of the stage, a small gas-fire burns. Near it, a table and chairs have been formally arranged for the meeting.The whole atmosphere of the room is cold and dreary. Time: a winter afternoon in 1917.Miss Miller discovered. She is cold and tired-looking, mechanically arranging blotting-paper, etc. on the table.Mrs. Ballantyne enters. She is prosperous-looking and clad in warm furs, and is out of breath from ascending the stairs.
Scene
A committee-room on the top floor of a house in a small provincial town. Back of the stage, centre, there is a door, opening inwards on to the stage. To the right of the door, a few pegs are on the wall for hanging coats, etc. Right of the stage, is a good-sized window, showing distant views of chimney-pots outside. Left of the stage, a small gas-fire burns. Near it, a table and chairs have been formally arranged for the meeting.
The whole atmosphere of the room is cold and dreary. Time: a winter afternoon in 1917.
Miss Miller discovered. She is cold and tired-looking, mechanically arranging blotting-paper, etc. on the table.
Mrs. Ballantyne enters. She is prosperous-looking and clad in warm furs, and is out of breath from ascending the stairs.
Miss Miller: Good afternoon, Mrs. Ballantyne.
Mrs. Ballantyne(out of breath): Good afternoon. Oh dear, those stairs! I’m out of breath.
Miss Miller: They are trying, aren’t they? Four flights!
Mrs. Ballantyne: Oh, you oughtn’t to find them trying, at your age. Tell me, have you any idea why we’ve all been asked to come here to-day, Miss Miller? It’s not the day for our regular meeting, at all.
Miss Miller: No, I’ve got the notice for that all ready to send out as usual. This is a special meeting that Mrs. Lloyd-Evans is calling. She only sent me a note about it last night, telling me to get the room ready.
Mrs. Ballantyne: She wrote to me too, but she didn’t say what it was all about. I suppose she’ll have written to Mrs. Akers, as well.
Miss Miller: Here they are.
(Enter Mrs. Lloyd-Evans and Mrs. Akers. Mrs. Lloyd-Evans is mysterious and melancholy, and Mrs. Akers lively and full of undisguised curiosity. Both wear heavy coats, furs, etc. They shake hands with Mrs. Ballantyne, and nod and say how d’ye do to Miss Miller. Whilst they talk they loosen or take off their wraps, and place them on the pegs near the door.)
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans(to Mrs. Ballantyne): How d’ye do. We’re all a little before our time, I think, but then as I always say,it’s better to be too early than too late. (This she says with an air of originality.)
Mrs. Ballantyne: Of course, the minute I got your note I quite saw that something must have happened, or you wouldn’t have asked us to come out in this dreadful cold,andup those awful stairs. I do think, when we’re doing the whole of this Welfare Committee business gratuitously, that they might have found us a room on the ground floor. Isn’t there any hope of getting better premises?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: They pretend that any accommodation is difficult to find nowadays, but I should like to know why some building shouldn’t be done? What I always say is, that there wouldn’t be half this unemployment trouble, if people were givenwork.
Mrs. Ballantyne(bored): Yes, indeed.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: It’s just Bolshevism, you know, all this talk of unemployment. There’s always work for those who are willing to work. Now I can’t help thinking it would put a stop to all this labour unrest, if they could only send a few of the leaders toRussia, to show them what Bolshevism has resulted in, there.
Mrs. Ballantyne: Yes, of course. It really would be a lesson. (She is arranging her dress, etc., as she speaks, and tidying herself at a little pocket-mirror.)
Mrs. Akers(seating herself, to Mrs. Lloyd-Evans): Well, I’m all agog to know what’s happened. Your note was most mysterious. What’s been happening at the School? Really, the present generation is the limit—always giving trouble. It seems to have come in with bobbed hair.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Girls are often very artful.
Mrs. Akers: Well, we ought to be able to cope with the artfulness of mere schoolgirls, surely. Now do let’s sit down and get to business.
Mrs. Ballantyne(to Mrs. Lloyd-Evans): As you see, I haven’t brought my daughter. I’m sure it was very thoughtful of you to warn me in your note, but I gather it means that we have something—painful—to discuss?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: One hardly likes to put things into words—but your Phyllis is a young girl, after all, and I always feel there ought to be somethingsacredabout a young girl.
Mrs. Ballantyne: I had to pretend to Phyllis that you wanted to speak about some very dull question of finance. It was deceiving her, perhaps, but Idoso agree with you about how one ought to treat young girls as somethingsacred, as you say. So I told her the whole thing was going to be very formal, and only members of the actual Committee allowed to be present. I’m afraid it was rather in the nature of a pious fraud.
(They all laugh, and draw slightly closer together.)
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Before we begin, I should like to say that this must all be in absolute confidence.
Mrs. Ballantyne(looking at Miss Miller): Excuse me a moment. (She whispers to Mrs. Lloyd-Evans. The other ladies try to hear what is said, and at the same time to look as though they were doing nothing of the sort.)
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans(aloud): I am sure Miss Miller will be discreet. Charity sometimes forces one to face very painful things, and one must be brave and hear about various tragedies that one would far prefer never to mention at all. (Pause.) One hardly knows how to word certain things. (Pause.)
Mrs. Ballantyne: Really, if it’s anything ofthatsort, I think we ought to ask Miss Miller to leave us. (Aside): she’s only a girl.
Mrs. Akers(eagerly):Thatsort? What sort?
Mrs. Ballantyne: Well, you know what I mean. But I’m sure I hope I’m mistaken.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: I’m afraid you’re not, Mrs. Ballantyne.
Mrs. Akers: Call a spade a spade. Is it the usual thing?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: I should be sorry to call it theusualthing. But I’m afraid that’s what it is.
Mrs. Akers: I’ve worked in a district, and my husband has a large medical practice amongst poor people. I suppose some girl has got into trouble?
(Mrs. Lloyd-Evans bows her head in assent, and once more all threeladies draw their chairs closer together. Miss Miller covers her face with her hands for a moment.)From now onwards, the three ladies are all much more animated, and full of barely-disguised enjoyment of a subject which they all regard as a delicate one.
Mrs. Ballantyne: We’re all married women here, and I think we can discuss this better without Miss Miller.
Miss Miller(quickly, and with suppressed agitation): If it’s a formal meeting, you’ll want the minutes entered.
Mrs. Akers: Yes. She’d better stay.
Mrs. Ballantyne(aside to Mrs. Akers): I don’t agree. I’m the mother of a girl myself, as you know, and to me girlhood issacred. We have a most painful subject to discuss.
Miss Miller:Please let me stay. I—I might help.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: How couldyouhelp, Miss Miller? And even if you could, it would be most unsuitable in an unmarried girl like yourself. Please wait in the next room until we call you to take down the results of the conference.
(Exit Miss Miller, and shuts the door.)
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: I don’t know that I altogether like that girl. Rather horrid of her to be so curious, wasn’t it?
Mrs. Ballantyne: Any young woman with anicemind would have been only too thankful to be spared the embarrassment of staying in the room whilesuch a thing was being discussed. (Her tone changes to eagerness.) Well, this is too dreadful! Which of the girls is it?
Mrs. Akers: I’m certain it’s one of those twins! They really are pretty—you know what I mean, prettyforthat class. Which of them is it?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: It’s nothing to do with the twins. (Though I daresay it’ll be them next—one never knows, when once this sort of thing begins.) No, it’s the girl from London, the daughter of that widowed Mrs. Smith who has been taking in washing in West Street.
Mrs. Akers: Fanny!
Mrs. Ballantyne: That child! But she can’t be more than sixteen.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Fifteen. But one knows what London girls are, at any age.
Mrs. Akers: How did you find out? Is it absolutely certain?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Absolutely. It ought to have been found out months ago, if the girl hadn’t been so artful. Even her mother says she had no idea, till just the other day.
Mrs. Akers(decidedly): That’s impossible.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: She pitched a long yarn about the girl herself not having known what was happening. They pretend it came to light by accident, through something Fanny said to her mother, which made her suspicious.
Mrs. Akers(eagerly): What was that? If we’re to help at all, we’d better know everything.
(Mrs. Lloyd-Evans whispers to her, and Mrs. Akers whispers in her turn to Mrs. Ballantyne.)
Mrs. Ballantyne: And when do they expect——
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: In three months’ time, actually.
(The members of the Committee, in silence, make rapid movements upon their fingers, in evident calculation.)
Mrs. Akers: Then it must have happened after they got down here, that’s clear.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: I think it’s much more likely it was in London. There’d just be time. Londoners are always immoral. Besides, as I said to her,in our town these things don’t happen.
Mrs. Ballantyne: How did they take it?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: The girl herself seems absolutely callous. I couldn’t get a word out of her. The mother says she hasn’t been able to, either, and she’s been trying to force her to tell her when it happened. The grandmother was there, as well, and you know what an odious old womansheis. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if she’d been in the plot the whole time.
Mrs. Ballantyne: When did all this conversation take place, if I may ask?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Only yesterday. I happened to go in there, and found themother in tears, so of course I got the whole story out of her. I felt it was a question for the Welfare Committee—married women, like ourselves—and I’ve done absolutely nothing, except ask Dr. Akers to see the girl and make certain.
Mrs. Akers: Well! He’s never said a word tomeabout it. I must say, he was out late last night and early this morning, but I do think he ought to have given me a hint.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Gentlemen are so odd, about anything to do with their business. I’ve often noticed it. One has to probe forhours, sometimes, to get the simplest piece of information.
Mrs. Akers: Look here, we shall have to settle something. Of course the girl must go away.
The Others: Of course.
Mrs. Akers: The question is, where?
Mrs. Ballantyne: Surely some Sisterhood would take her in.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: One doesn’t want to be hard on her. I told the mother that we should discuss it all quietly amongst ourselves before settling anything.
Mrs. Ballantyne:Ithink we ought to send for the girl, and see if we can get anything out of her. Of course, it would be very trying and dreadful, but I’m sure that’s what we ought to do. I, for one, shouldn’t shrink from it.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: You wouldn’t get a word out of her. They were all in league together, it seemed to me. Thoroughly artful and determined to stick together, I thought them, all three of them.
Mrs. Akers: I can’t see why the grandmother should have any say in the matter at all. Pray what hassheto do with it?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: She talked a great deal of nonsense about wanting to keep Fanny at home. As I said to her, if keeping Fanny at home results inthissort of thing, then the sooner Fanny goes away from home the better. She was thoroughly nonplussed at that, as you may imagine, and couldn’t answer anything at all, though of course she chattered away, but I took not the slightest notice.
Mrs. Ballantyne: But, Mrs. Lloyd-Evans, do you mean to say that they won’t tell who the man is?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: The girl won’t say a word. As I said to her myself, itmusthave been somebody in London before they came away, and it’s no use telling me it happened here, because I simply shan’t believe it.
Mrs. Akers: Well, what about a Home, or some other place where the girl could go till it’s all over? It had better be as far away from here as possible, of course.
The other two as before: Oh, of course.
Mrs. Akers: I have two or three addresses of that kind—one place is near London.
Mrs. Ballantyne: The very thing. I’d gladly take her up myself, if necessary. She’s very young and one doesn’t want to be hard on her. What line are the mother and grandmother taking up?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: The mother cried a good deal, and said how ashamed she was that the girl should make such a return for all that’s been done for them down here. People have been very kind about employing her—I’ve sent washing there myself. (She charges less than the steam-laundry.) She was thoroughly upset, and one could have managedherall right. It’s the grandmother that’s so impossible, and the girl looks as though she could be thoroughly obstinate. I’m bound to say she was looking very ill, so one didn’t want to frighten her.
Mrs. Akers: Well, that doesn’t apply to the old woman. She must be squashed. Leave the grandmother to me if necessary. If there’s any difficulty about their letting Fanny go, I can say we shall inform the police. These people are perfectly ignorant of the law, and would probably believe anything. (She laughs in a slightly shamefaced, way.) After all, it’s for the girl’s own good.
Mrs. Ballantyne: Certainly, and besides, for their own sake they want to avoid exposure. The mother can be told that the Committee is taking the whole expense and trouble off her hands, and she’ll be only too thankful to let the girl go. She can come back when it’s all over, and if they’re careful, people needn’t know anything about it.
Mrs. Ballantyne: But what will happen—when——
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: What?
Mrs. Ballantyne: What will be done with the—with the little——
Mrs. Akers: Theresults, you mean?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Oh, the baby. In these sad cases, one almost hopes that it may not live, dreadful though it sounds to say such a thing.
Mrs. Akers: My husband tells me that in his experience, illegitimate children are often particularly strong and healthy infants.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: God’s ways are not our ways.
Mrs. Akers(to Mrs. Ballantyne): But in this case, of course, the child will be taken away the minute it’s born, and the mother will probably never set eyes on it at all. It’s taken to some Institution where they look after it, and that gives the mother a chance of living it down. Especially when she’s so young.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: The grandmother said something about the baby, as she called it, but of course I stopped that at once. They can hardly earn enough to keep themselves, as it is, and if there was anyquestion of Fanny being allowed to keep the child, it would simply amount, as I told her, to putting a premium upon immorality. Of course, if one knew who the man was, pressure could be brought to bear on him, but I don’t believe for an instant that it’s a case of the girl having been seduced. She’s probably a thorough little bad lot. Quite likely she doesn’t know who the father is. I’m told that some of these London girls are frightfully—promiscuous.
Mrs. Akers: I don’t know how to believe that—at fifteen! I’m afraid it may have been somebody down here, you know.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Oh please don’t suggest such a thing. It’s the last thing we want to have established. Just think of the talk! As it is, if we don’t press the question, we can get the girl away quietly and nothing be known about it.
Mrs. Ballantyne: You think we shan’t get anything out of her?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Nothing, nor her mother either, according to her own account. The old grandmother began some story about an assault having perhaps been made on the girl, and she too frightened to tell; but as I said, if that sort of thing was new to her, a girl’s first impulse would be to rush to her mother with the story, and if she didn’t, it only showed that she thought nothing of it.
Mrs. Akers(thoughtfully): I wonder ifIcould get anything out of her? I’ve a very good mind to go home that way. One dreads having to deal with this sort of sad case, but after all, it’s charity. I could put the old grandmother into her place once and for all, as you say she’s disposed to be tiresome, and make Fanny herself understand that we only want to help her. After all, we’ve all read our Bible, I hope: “Which amongst you shall cast the first stone?”
Mrs. Ballantyne: As the mother of a girl myself, I was wondering ifIought not to talk to Fanny, perhaps. Goodness knows, it’s a miserable affair, but the world is what it is, and it’s no useshrinkingfrom these things.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans(displeased): As it was I who made this very sad and perplexing discovery, I think I had better be the person to see the business through. Naturally, one consults the Committee, but I can’t help feeling that there had better be only one intermediary between the Committee and the girl’s family. It’s more business-like, and one must be business-like.
Mrs. Ballantyne: Oh, certainly!
Mrs. Akers: But this isn’t an official meeting, is it? We’ve had no notes taken, or anything. And we haven’t passed any resolution. Now, I should like to propose that I write to-night to St. Mary Magdalene’sHome and try and arrange to get Fanny taken in there as soon as possible, and kept till after the birth of the child.
Mrs. Ballantyne: I second that.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Proposed and seconded. Those in favour—(they each lift up a hand). Those against.... Carried unanimously, I think.
Mrs. Akers: Now, is there anything more we can do?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: I don’t think so. If there are any further developments, I will let you know, of course. I mean, if one can get any admission out of the girl, for instance. She seemed to me perfectly stolid and bewildered, but one doesn’t want to risk upsetting her, naturally. It would be extremely annoying if anything happened before we can get her away.
Mrs. Ballantyne: What did they say about her health? Is she all right?
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Perfectly all right. Why shouldn’t she be—a young, healthy girl like that!
Mrs. Akers: After all, it’s nature.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: I don’t call it nature at all, at fifteen. I call itsin. (Rises, and goes to put on her coat. The other two remain seated.)
Mrs. Ballantyne(shuddering): Fifteen! Just think of it! My Phyllis is only two years older. Thank heaven, I’ve been able to keep her as innocent as a baby. She knowsnothing—absolutely nothing.
Mrs. Akers: Innocence is such a safeguard.
Mrs. Ballantyne: What I shall tell her about this meeting, I really don’t know. Unfortunately, she knew where I was coming, and I shall have to invent something to tell her in case she asks any questions about it, as she’s certain to do. Luckily, I think she trusts me absolutely.
Mrs. Akers: Come home to tea with me, dear Mrs. Ballantyne. It will help to take both our minds off the whole sad subject.
Mrs. Ballantyne: How very kind of you! I should love to. We must try and forget all about it for the time being.
Mrs. Akers: I can’t help wondering how Fanny could have managed to deceive her mother for so long.
Mrs. Ballantyne: I must say, I should have thought any woman with eyes in her head——
Mrs. Akers: Yes, and besides, why didn’t the girl, if she was a respectable girl, gostraightto her mother when——
(Mrs. Akers and Mrs. Ballantyne, lean across the table, talking busily about Fanny’s behaviour, both at once. Meanwhile Mrs. Lloyd-Evans, who has now got her furs on, stands as though listening to some sound outside the door, unnoticed by the other two. She tiptoes rapidly to the door and flings it open. Miss Miller is crouching outside, having evidently been listening. One side of herface is scarlet where it has been pressed to the door, the other white. She rises awkwardly as the door opens, but not before they have all seen her.)
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans: Ithoughtso!
Miss Miller(wildly): What did you think, Mrs. Lloyd-Evans? That I’ve been listening at the door? So I have! That I’ve overheard all your charitable plans for Fanny Smith and her illegitimate child? So I have!
Mrs. Akers: You should be ashamed of yourself.
Mrs. Ballantyne: What’s the meaning of this?
Miss Miller: I’ll tell you. You said just now that the world is what it is—there’s no use in shrinking from things—shrinking from them! Ha, ha, ha! (she laughs hysterically). You’re a great deal more likely to jump at them. But if you want to have my explanation, you shall have it.
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans(pointing to the door): Miss Miller, leave the room.
(Miss Miller looks at her, still laughing, then turns the key in the door, shutting and locking it.)
Miss Miller: I shan’t leave the room, nor you either, till you’ve heard what I’ve got to say.
Mrs. Akers: Good heavens, she’s mad!
Mrs. Lloyd-Evans(advancing resolutely): Give me that key this moment (putting out her hand for it).
(Miss Miller, too quick for her, dashes to the window, throwing up the sash, and flings out the key. During the rest of the scene she stands with her back to the open window, while the three other women are grouped together behind the table, at the further side of the room.)
Miss Miller(her voice has grown cunning, and bitterly and vehemently ironical both at once. She gives the impression of dementia):Iknew what you were going to talk about.She(pointing to Mrs. Akers) gave it away when she said it must be “the usual thing.” Of course I listened, to hear what you’d do for Fanny—poor Fanny, who’s going to bring a little baby into the world, and who’s been ill and terrified and unhappy, all these months. And you (to Mrs. Lloyd-Evans, bitter mockery in her tone) found it out, and you asked these other kind, charitable, rich ladies to come and meet you here, so that you could all talk it over, and make plans about Fanny. (Suddenly and viciously): And oh, how you allenjoyedit—didn’t you—telling each other how painful it was, and how sad, and how you could hardly put it into words!
(Fiercely): Why, you nearly scratched one another’s eyes out for the fun of going to Fanny’s mother, and “putting the old grandmother into her place” and putting Fanny through the ThirdDegree, nagging and nagging at her totell, so that you could hear more shocking details, and come and gloat over them.
(Mimicking): “Oh, but we want to help her,” and “girlhood is sosacred.” (To Mrs. Ballantyne): Yes, you said that several times, didn’t you, you who are so thankful that your girltrustsyou—so that when you cheat her and tell little lies for her own good, the poor little fool swallows it. She won’t always swallow it, you know—she’ll find you out one day. Just like I’ve found out, what charity means and what’s done to girls who sin and get found out. I had to know, you see, because—I’ve done what Fanny did——
(The women cry out, below their breath.)
Miss Miller: You needn’t be frightened—it isn’t anyone down here. That’s what you’re afraid of, isn’t it—that it may all end up tamely after all, with a hasty marriage, and nothing left to talk about! You’d like to hustle me away, like Fanny, to somewhere that will take your money, and make you feel all nice and glowing and charitable—and where they’ll “take away the baby, and the mother probably never sets eyes on it at all.” To be allowed to keep it, would “put a premium on immorality” wouldn’t it? Ha, ha, ha! I’ve been frightened all these weeks, but I’m not frightened any morenow. Something went snap inside my head, I think, all in a minute, while I was listening to all of you. I’d thought of appealing to you, you see—such kind ladies, all given over to works of charity! If you’re thecharitable(laughing wildly) what wouldotherpeople say? No, no, no—I’ll not be like Fanny, I’ve thought of a better plan than any of yours!
(She springs on to the sill of the open window. Mrs. Akers cries “Stop her!” and they dash forward, but the table impedes them, and Miss Miller, still laughing, throws herself out.
The curtain falls as Mrs. Lloyd-Evans, screaming, pulls at the locked door, and the other two women throw themselves against the window and look downwards.)
THE END
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