Johnny Tarleton, an ordinary young business man of thirty or less, istaking his weekly Friday to Tuesday in the house of his father, JohnTarleton, who has made a great deal of money out of Tarleton'sUnderwear. The house is in Surrey, on the slope of Hindhead; andJohnny, reclining, novel in hand, in a swinging chair with a littleawning above it, is enshrined in a spacious half hemisphere of glasswhich forms a pavilion commanding the garden, and, beyond it, a barrenbut lovely landscape of hill profile with fir trees, commons ofbracken and gorse, and wonderful cloud pictures.The glass pavilion springs from a bridgelike arch in the wall of thehouse, through which one comes into a big hall with tiled flooring,which suggests that the proprietor's notion of domestic luxury isfounded on the lounges of week-end hotels. The arch is not quite inthe centre of the wall. There is more wall to its right than to itsleft, and this space is occupied by a hat rack and umbrella stand inwhich tennis rackets, white parasols, caps, Panama hats, and othersummery articles are bestowed. Just through the arch at this cornerstands a new portable Turkish bath, recently unpacked, with its cratebeside it, and on the crate the drawn nails and the hammer used inunpacking. Near the crate are open boxes of garden games: bowls andcroquet. Nearly in the middle of the glass wall of the pavilion is adoor giving on the garden, with a couple of steps to surmount thehot-water pipes which skirt the glass. At intervals round thepavilion are marble pillars with specimens of Viennese pottery onthem, very flamboyant in colour and florid in design. Between themare folded garden chairs flung anyhow against the pipes. In the sidewalls are two doors: one near the hat stand, leading to the interiorof the house, the other on the opposite side and at the other end,leading to the vestibule.There is no solid furniture except a sideboard which stands againstthe wall between the vestibule door and the pavilion, a small writingtable with a blotter, a rack for telegram forms and stationery, and awastepaper basket, standing out in the hall near the sideboard, and alady's worktable, with two chairs at it, towards the other side of thelounge. The writing table has also two chairs at it. On thesideboard there is a tantalus, liqueur bottles, a syphon, a glass jugof lemonade, tumblers, and every convenience for casual drinking.Also a plate of sponge cakes, and a highly ornate punchbowl in thesame style as the keramic display in the pavilion. Wicker chairs andlittle bamboo tables with ash trays and boxes of matches on them arescattered in all directions. In the pavilion, which is flooded withsunshine, is the elaborate patent swing seat and awning in whichJohnny reclines with his novel. There are two wicker chairs right andleft of him.Bentley Summerhays, one of those smallish, thinskinned youths, whofrom 17 to 70 retain unaltered the mental airs of the later and thephysical appearance of the earlier age, appears in the garden andcomes through the glass door into the pavilion. He is unmistakably agrade above Johnny socially; and though he looks sensitive enough, hisassurance and his high voice are a little exasperating.JOHNNY. Hallo! Wheres your luggage?BENTLEY. I left it at the station. Ive walked up from Haslemere.[He goes to the hat stand and hangs up his hat].JOHNNY[shortly]Oh! And who's to fetch it?BENTLEY. Dont know. Dont care. Providence, probably. If not, yourmother will have it fetched.JOHNNY. Not her business, exactly, is it?BENTLEY.[returning to the pavilion]Of course not. Thats why oneloves her for doing it. Look here: chuck away your silly week-endnovel, and talk to a chap. After a week in that filthy office mybrain is simply blue-mouldy. Lets argue about something intellectual.[He throws himself into the wicker chair on Johnny's right].JOHNNY.[straightening up in the swing with a yell of protest]No.Now seriously, Bunny, Ive come down here to have a pleasant week-end;and I'm not going to stand your confounded arguments. If you want toargue, get out of this and go over to the Congregationalistminister's. He's a nailer at arguing. He likes it.BENTLEY. You cant argue with a person when his livelihood depends onhis not letting you convert him. And would you mind not calling meBunny. My name is Bentley Summerhays, which you please.JOHNNY. Whats the matter with Bunny?BENTLEY. It puts me in a false position. Have you ever consideredthe fact that I was an afterthought?JOHNNY. An afterthought? What do you mean by that?BENTLEY. I—JOHNNY. No, stop: I dont want to know. It's only a dodge to startan argument.BENTLEY. Dont be afraid: it wont overtax your brain. My father was44 when I was born. My mother was 41. There was twelve years betweenme and the next eldest. I was unexpected. I was probablyunintentional. My brothers and sisters are not the least like me.Theyre the regular thing that you always get in the first batch fromyoung parents: quite pleasant, ordinary, do-the-regular-thing sort:all body and no brains, like you.JOHNNY. Thank you.BENTLEY. Dont mention it, old chap. Now I'm different. By the timeI was born, the old couple knew something. So I came out all brainsand no more body than is absolutely necessary. I am really a gooddeal older than you, though you were born ten years sooner. Everybodyfeels that when they hear us talk; consequently, though it's quitenatural to hear me calling you Johnny, it sounds ridiculous andunbecoming for you to call me Bunny.[He rises].JOHNNY. Does it, by George? You stop me doing it if you can: thatsall.BENTLEY. If you go on doing it after Ive asked you not, youll feel anawful swine.[He strolls away carelessly to the sideboard with hiseye on the sponge cakes].At least I should; but I suppose youre notso particular.JOHNNY[rising vengefully and following Bentley, who is forced toturn and listen]I'll tell you what it is, my boy: you want a goodtalking to; and I'm going to give it to you. If you think thatbecause your father's a K.C.B., and you want to marry my sister, youcan make yourself as nasty as you please and say what you like, youremistaken. Let me tell you that except Hypatia, not one person in thishouse is in favor of her marrying you; and I dont believe shes happyabout it herself. The match isnt settled yet: dont forget that.Youre on trial in the office because the Governor isnt giving hisdaughter money for an idle man to live on her. Youre on trial herebecause my mother thinks a girl should know what a man is like in thehouse before she marries him. Thats been going on for two months now;and whats the result? Youve got yourself thoroughly disliked in theoffice; and youre getting yourself thoroughly disliked here, allthrough your bad manners and your conceit, and the damned impudenceyou think clever.BENTLEY.[deeply wounded and trying hard to control himself]Thatsenough, thank you. You dont suppose, I hope, that I should have comedown if I had known that that was how you felt about me.[He makesfor the vestibule door].JOHNNY.[collaring him].No: you dont run away. I'm going tohave this out with you. Sit down: d'y' hear?[Bentley attempts togo with dignity. Johnny slings him into a chair at the writing table,where he sits, bitterly humiliated, but afraid to speak lest he shouldburst into tears].Thats the advantage of having more body thanbrains, you see: it enables me to teach you manners; and I'm going todo it too. Youre a spoilt young pup; and you need a jolly goodlicking. And if youre not careful youll get it: I'll see to thatnext time you call me a swine.BENTLEY. I didnt call you a swine. But[bursting into a fury oftears]you are a swine: youre a beast: youre a brute: youre acad: youre a liar: youre a bully: I should like to wring yourdamned neck for you.JOHNNY.[with a derisive laugh]Try it, my son.[Bentley givesan inarticulate sob of rage].Fighting isnt in your line. Youre toosmall and youre too childish. I always suspected that your clevernesswouldnt come to very much when it was brought up against somethingsolid: some decent chap's fist, for instance.BENTLEY. I hope your beastly fist may come up against a mad bull or aprizefighter's nose, or something solider than me. I dont care aboutyour fist; but if everybody here dislikes me—[he is checked by asob].Well, I dont care.[Trying to recover himself]I'm sorry Iintruded: I didnt know.[Breaking down again]Oh you beast! youpig! Swine, swine, swine, swine, swine! Now!JOHNNY. All right, my lad, all right. Sling your mud as hard as youplease: it wont stick to me. What I want to know is this. How is itthat your father, who I suppose is the strongest man England hasproduced in our time—BENTLEY. You got that out of your halfpenny paper. A lot you knowabout him!JOHNNY. I dont set up to be able to do anything but admire him andappreciate him and be proud of him as an Englishman. If it wasnt formy respect for him, I wouldnt have stood your cheek for two days, letalone two months. But what I cant understand is why he didnt lick itout of you when you were a kid. For twenty-five years he kept a placetwice as big as England in order: a place full of seditiouscoffee-colored heathens and pestilential white agitators in the middleof a lot of savage tribes. And yet he couldnt keep you in order. Idont set up to be half the man your father undoubtedly is; but, byGeorge, it's lucky for you you were not my son. I dont hold with myown father's views about corporal punishment being wrong. It'snecessary for some people; and I'd have tried it on you until youfirst learnt to howl and then to behave yourself.BENTLEY.[contemptuously]Yes: behavior wouldnt come naturally toyour son, would it?JOHNNY.[stung into sudden violence]Now you keep a civil tonguein your head. I'll stand none of your snobbery. I'm just as proud ofTarleton's Underwear as you are of your father's title and his K.C.B.,and all the rest of it. My father began in a little hole of a shop inLeeds no bigger than our pantry down the passage there. He—BENTLEY. Oh yes: I know. Ive read it. "The Romance of Business, orThe Story of Tarleton's Underwear. Please Take One!" I took one theday after I first met Hypatia. I went and bought half a dozenunshrinkable vests for her sake.JOHNNY. Well: did they shrink?BENTLEY. Oh, dont be a fool.JOHNNY. Never mind whether I'm a fool or not. Did they shrink?Thats the point. Were they worth the money?BENTLEY. I couldnt wear them: do you think my skin's as thick asyour customers' hides? I'd as soon have dressed myself in a nutmeggrater.JOHNNY. Pity your father didnt give your thin skin a jolly goodlacing with a cane—!BENTLEY. Pity you havnt got more than one idea! If you want to know,they did try that on me once, when I was a small kid. A sillygoverness did it. I yelled fit to bring down the house and went intoconvulsions and brain fever and that sort of thing for three weeks.So the old girl got the sack; and serve her right! After that, I waslet do what I like. My father didnt want me to grow up abroken-spirited spaniel, which is your idea of a man, I suppose.JOHNNY. Jolly good thing for you that my father made you come intothe office and shew what you were made of. And it didnt come to much:let me tell you that. When the Governor asked me where I thought weought to put you, I said, "Make him the Office Boy." The Governorsaid you were too green. And so you were.BENTLEY. I daresay. So would you be pretty green if you were shovedinto my father's set. I picked up your silly business in a fortnight.Youve been at it ten years; and you havnt picked it up yet.JOHNNY. Dont talk rot, child. You know you simply make me pity you.BENTLEY. "Romance of Business" indeed! The real romance ofTarleton's business is the story that you understand anything aboutit. You never could explain any mortal thing about it to me when Iasked you. "See what was done the last time": that was the beginningand the end of your wisdom. Youre nothing but a turnspit.JOHNNY. A what!BENTLEY. A turnspit. If your father hadnt made a roasting jack foryou to turn, youd be earning twenty-four shillings a week behind acounter.JOHNNY. If you dont take that back and apologize for your badmanners, I'll give you as good a hiding as ever—BENTLEY. Help! Johnny's beating me! Oh! Murder![He throwshimself on the ground, uttering piercing yells].JOHNNY. Dont be a fool. Stop that noise, will you. I'm not going totouch you. Sh—sh—Hypatia rushes in through the inner door, followed by Mrs Tarleton,and throws herself on her knees by Bentley. Mrs Tarleton, whose kneesare stiffer, bends over him and tries to lift him. Mrs Tarleton is ashrewd and motherly old lady who has been pretty in her time, and isstill very pleasant and likeable and unaffected. Hypatia is a typicalEnglish girl of a sort never called typical: that is, she has anopaque white skin, black hair, large dark eyes with black brows andlashes, curved lips, swift glances and movements that flash out of awaiting stillness, boundless energy and audacity held in leash.HYPATIA.[pouncing on Bentley with no very gentle hand]Bentley:whats the matter? Dont cry like that: whats the use? Whatshappened?MRS TARLETON. Are you ill, child?[They get him up.]There, there,pet! It's all right: dont cry[they put him into a chair]: there!there! there! Johnny will go for the doctor; and he'll give yousomething nice to make it well.HYPATIA. What has happened, Johnny?MRS TARLETON. Was it a wasp?BENTLEY.[impatiently]Wasp be dashed!MRS TARLETON. Oh Bunny! that was a naughty word.BENTLEY. Yes, I know: I beg your pardon.[He rises, and extricateshimself from them]Thats all right. Johnny frightened me. You knowhow easy it is to hurt me; and I'm too small to defend myself againstJohnny.MRS TARLETON. Johnny: how often have I told you that you must notbully the little ones. I thought youd outgrown all that.HYPATIA.[angrily]I do declare, mamma, that Johnny's brutalitymakes it impossible to live in the house with him.JOHNNY.[deeply hurt]It's twenty-seven years, mother, since youhad that row with me for licking Robert and giving Hypatia a black eyebecause she bit me. I promised you then that I'd never raise my handto one of them again; and Ive never broken my word. And now becausethis young whelp begins to cry out before he's hurt, you treat me asif I were a brute and a savage.MRS TARLETON. No dear, not a savage; but you know you must not callour visitor naughty names.BENTLEY. Oh, let him alone—JOHNNY.[fiercely]Dont you interfere between my mother and me:d'y' hear?HYPATIA. Johnny's lost his temper, mother. We'd better go. Come,Bentley.MRS TARLETON. Yes: that will be best.[To Bentley]Johnny doesntmean any harm, dear: he'll be himself presently. Come.The two ladies go out through the inner door with Bentley, who turnsat the door to grin at Johnny as he goes out.Johnny, left alone, clenches his fists and grinds his teeth, but canfind no relief in that way for his rage. After choking and stampingfor a moment, he makes for the vestibule door. It opens before hereaches it; and Lord Summerhays comes in. Johnny glares at him,speechless. Lord Summerhays takes in the situation, and quickly takesthe punchbowl from the sideboard and offers it to Johnny.LORD SUMMERHAYS. Smash it. Dont hesitate: it's an ugly thing.Smash it: hard.[Johnny, with a stifled yell, dashes it in pieces,and then sits down and mops his brow].Feel better now?[Johnnynods].I know only one person alive who could drive me to the pointof having either to break china or commit murder; and that person ismy son Bentley. Was it he?[Johnny nods again, not yet able tospeak].As the car stopped I heard a yell which is only too familiarto me. It generally means that some infuriated person is trying tothrash Bentley. Nobody has ever succeeded, though almost everybodyhas tried.[He seats himself comfortably close to the writing table,and sets to work to collect the fragments of the punchbowl in thewastepaper basket whilst Johnny, with diminishing difficulty, collectshimself].Bentley is a problem which I confess I have never beenable to solve. He was born to be a great success at the age of fifty.Most Englishmen of his class seem to be born to be great successes atthe age of twenty-four at most. The domestic problem for me is how toendure Bentley until he is fifty. The problem for the nation is howto get itself governed by men whose growth is arrested when they arelittle more than college lads. Bentley doesnt really mean to beoffensive. You can always make him cry by telling him you dont likehim. Only, he cries so loud that the experiment should be made in theopen air: in the middle of Salisbury Plain if possible. He has ahard and penetrating intellect and a remarkable power of looking factsin the face; but unfortunately, being very young, he has no idea ofhow very little of that sort of thing most of us can stand. On theother hand, he is frightfully sensitive and even affectionate; so thathe probably gets as much as he gives in the way of hurt feelings.Youll excuse me rambling on like this about my son.JOHNNY.[who has pulled himself together]You did it on purpose.I wasnt quite myself: I needed a moment to pull round: thank you.LORD SUMMERHAYS. Not at all. Is your father at home?JOHNNY. No: he's opening one of his free libraries. Thats anothernice little penny gone. He's mad on reading. He promised anotherfree library last week. It's ruinous. Itll hit you as well as mewhen Bunny marries Hypatia. When all Hypatia's money is thrown awayon libraries, where will Bunny come in? Cant you stop him?LORD SUMMERHAYS. I'm afraid not. Hes a perfect whirlwind.Indefatigable at public work. Wonderful man, I think.JOHNNY. Oh, public work! He does too much of it. It's really a sortof laziness, getting away from your own serious business to amuseyourself with other people's. Mind: I dont say there isnt anotherside to it. It has its value as an advertisement. It makes usefulacquaintances and leads to valuable business connections. But ittakes his mind off the main chance; and he overdoes it.LORD SUMMERHAYS. The danger of public business is that it never ends.A man may kill himself at it.JOHNNY. Or he can spend more on it than it brings him in: thats howI look at it. What I say is that everybody's business is nobody'sbusiness. I hope I'm not a hard man, nor a narrow man, nor unwillingto pay reasonable taxes, and subscribe in reason to deservingcharities, and even serve on a jury in my turn; and no man can say Iever refused to help a friend out of a difficulty when he was worthhelping. But when you ask me to go beyond that, I tell you frankly Idont see it. I never did see it, even when I was only a boy, and hadto pretend to take in all the ideas the Governor fed me up with. Ididnt see it; and I dont see it.LORD SUMMERHAYS. There is certainly no business reason why you shouldtake more than your share of the world's work.JOHNNY. So I say. It's really a great encouragement to me to findyou agree with me. For of course if nobody agrees with you, how areyou to know that youre not a fool?LORD SUMMERHAYS. Quite so.JOHNNY. I wish youd talk to him about it. It's no use my sayinganything: I'm a child to him still: I have no influence. Besides,you know how to handle men. See how you handled me when I was makinga fool of myself about Bunny!LORD SUMMERHAYS. Not at all.JOHNNY. Oh yes I was: I know I was. Well, if my blessed father hadcome in he'd have told me to control myself. As if I was losing mytemper on purpose!Bentley returns, newly washed. He beams when he sees his father, andcomes affectionately behind him and pats him on the shoulders.BENTLEY. Hel-lo, commander! have you come? Ive been making a filthysilly ass of myself here. I'm awfully sorry, Johnny, old chap: I begyour pardon. Why dont you kick me when I go on like that?LORD SUMMERHAYS. As we came through Godalming I thought I heard someyelling—BENTLEY. I should think you did. Johnny was rather rough on me,though. He told me nobody here liked me; and I was silly enough tobelieve him.LORD SUMMERHAYS. And all the women have been kissing you and pityingyou ever since to stop your crying, I suppose. Baby!BENTLEY. I did cry. But I always feel good after crying: itrelieves my wretched nerves. I feel perfectly jolly now.LORD SUMMERHAYS. Not at all ashamed of yourself, for instance?BENTLEY. If I started being ashamed of myself I shouldnt have timefor anything else all my life. I say: I feel very fit and spry.Lets all go down and meet the Grand Cham.[He goes to the hatstandand takes down his hat].LORD SUMMERHAYS. Does Mr Tarleton like to be called the Grand Cham,do you think, Bentley?BENTLEY. Well, he thinks hes too modest for it. He calls himselfPlain John. But you cant call him that in his own office: besides,it doesnt suit him: it's not flamboyant enough.JOHNNY. Flam what?BENTLEY. Flamboyant. Lets go and meet him. Hes telephoned fromGuildford to say hes on the road. The dear old son is alwaystelephoning or telegraphing: he thinks hes hustling along likeanything when hes only sending unnecessary messages.LORD SUMMERHAYS. Thank you: I should prefer a quiet afternoon.BENTLEY. Right O. I shant press Johnny: hes had enough of me forone week-end.[He goes out through the pavilion into the grounds].JOHNNY. Not a bad idea, that.LORD SUMMERHAYS. What?JOHNNY. Going to meet the Governor. You know you wouldnt think it;but the Governor likes Bunny rather. And Bunny is cultivating it. Ishouldnt be surprised if he thought he could squeeze me out one ofthese days.LORD SUMMERHAYS. You dont say so! Young rascal! I want to consultyou about him, if you dont mind. Shall we stroll over to the Gibbet?Bentley is too fast for me as a walking companion; but I should like ashort turn.JOHNNY.[rising eagerly, highly flattered]Right you are. Thatllsuit me down to the ground.[He takes a Panama and stick from thehat stand].Mrs Tarleton and Hypatia come back just as the two men are going out.Hypatia salutes Summerhays from a distance with an enigmatic lift ofher eyelids in his direction and a demure nod before she sits down atthe worktable and busies herself with her needle. Mrs Tarleton,hospitably fussy, goes over to him.MRS TARLETON. Oh, Lord Summerhays, I didnt know you were here. Wontyou have some tea?LORD SUMMERHAYS. No, thank you: I'm not allowed tea. And I'mashamed to say Ive knocked over your beautiful punch-bowl. You mustlet me replace it.MRS TARLETON. Oh, it doesnt matter: I'm only too glad to be rid ofit. The shopman told me it was in the best taste; but when my poorold nurse Martha got cataract, Bunny said it was a merciful provisionof Nature to prevent her seeing our china.LORD SUMMERHAYS.[gravely]That was exceedingly rude of Bentley,Mrs Tarleton. I hope you told him so.MRS TARLETON. Oh, bless you! I dont care what he says; so long as hesays it to me and not before visitors.JOHNNY. We're going out for a stroll, mother.MRS TARLETON. All right: dont let us keep you. Never mind aboutthat crock: I'll get the girl to come and take the pieces away.[Recollecting herself]There! Ive done it again!JOHNNY. Done what?MRS TARLETON. Called her the girl. You know, Lord Summerhays, its afunny thing; but now I'm getting old, I'm dropping back into all theways John and I had when we had barely a hundred a year. You shouldhave known me when I was forty! I talked like a duchess; and ifJohnny or Hypatia let slip a word that was like old times, I was downon them like anything. And now I'm beginning to do it myself at everyturn.LORD SUMMERHAYS. There comes a time when all that seems to matter solittle. Even queens drop the mask when they reach our time of life.MRS TARLETON. Let you alone for giving a thing a pretty turn! Yourea humbug, you know, Lord Summerhays. John doesnt know it; and Johnnydoesnt know it; but you and I know it, dont we? Now thats somethingthat even you cant answer; so be off with you for your walk withoutanother word.Lord Summerhays smiles; bows; and goes out through the vestibuledoor, followed by Johnny. Mrs Tarleton sits down at the worktable andtakes out her darning materials and one of her husband's socks.Hypatia is at the other side of the table, on her mother's right.They chat as they work.HYPATIA. I wonder whether they laugh at us when they are bythemselves!MRS TARLETON. Who?HYPATIA. Bentley and his father and all the toffs in their set.MRS TARLETON. Oh, thats only their way. I used to think that thearistocracy were a nasty sneering lot, and that they were laughing atme and John. Theyre always giggling and pretending not to care muchabout anything. But you get used to it: theyre the same to oneanother and to everybody. Besides, what does it matter what theythink? It's far worse when theyre civil, because that always meansthat they want you to lend them money; and you must never do that,Hypatia, because they never pay. How can they? They dont makeanything, you see. Of course, if you can make up your mind to regardit as a gift, thats different; but then they generally ask you again;and you may as well say no first as last. You neednt be afraid of thearistocracy, dear: theyre only human creatures like ourselves afterall; and youll hold your own with them easy enough.HYPATIA. Oh, I'm not a bit afraid of them, I assure you.MRS TARLETON. Well, no, not afraid of them, exactly; but youve got topick up their ways. You know, dear, I never quite agreed with yourfather's notion of keeping clear of them, and sending you to a schoolthat was so expensive that they couldnt afford to send their daughtersthere; so that all the girls belonged to big business families likeourselves. It takes all sorts to make a world; and I wanted you tosee a little of all sorts. When you marry Bunny, and go among thewomen of his father's set, theyll shock you at first.HYPATIA.[incredulously]How?MRS TARLETON. Well, the things they talk about.HYPATIA. Oh! scandalmongering?MRS TARLETON. Oh no: we all do that: thats only human nature. Butyou know theyve no notion of decency. I shall never forget the firstday I spent with a marchioness, two duchesses, and no end of LadiesThis and That. Of course it was only a committee: theyd put me on toget a big subscription out of John. I'd never heard such talk in mylife. The things they mentioned! And it was the marchioness thatstarted it.HYPATIA. What sort of things?MRS TARLETON. Drainage!! She'd tried three systems in her castle;and she was going to do away with them all and try another. I didntknow which way to look when she began talking about it: I thoughttheyd all have got up and gone out of the room. But not a bit of it,if you please. They were all just as bad as she. They all hadsystems; and each of them swore by her own system. I sat there withmy cheeks burning until one of the duchesses, thinking I looked out ofit, I suppose, asked me what system I had. I said I was sure I knewnothing about such things, and hadnt we better change the subject.Then the fat was in the fire, I can tell you. There was a regularterror of a countess with an anaerobic system; and she told me,downright brutally, that I'd better learn something about them beforemy children died of diphtheria. That was just two months after I'dburied poor little Bobby; and that was the very thing he died of, poorlittle lamb! I burst out crying: I couldnt help it. It was as goodas telling me I'd killed my own child. I had to go away; but before Iwas out of the door one of the duchesses—quite a young woman—begantalking about what sour milk did in her inside and how she expected tolive to be over a hundred if she took it regularly. And me listeningto her, that had never dared to think that a duchess could haveanything so common as an inside! I shouldnt have minded if it hadbeen children's insides: we have to talk about them. But grown-uppeople! I was glad to get away that time.HYPATIA. There was a physiology and hygiene class started at school;but of course none of our girls were let attend it.MRS TARLETON. If it had been an aristocratic school plenty would haveattended it. Thats what theyre like: theyve nasty minds. Withreally nice good women a thing is either decent or indecent; and ifit's indecent, we just dont mention it or pretend to know about it;and theres an end of it. But all the aristocracy cares about iswhether it can get any good out of the thing. Theyre what Johnnycalls cynical-like. And of course nobody can say a word to them forit. Theyre so high up that they can do and say what they like.HYPATIA. Well, I think they might leave the drains to their husbands.I shouldnt think much of a man that left such things to me.MRS TARLETON. Oh, dont think that, dear, whatever you do. I neverlet on about it to you; but it's me that takes care of the drainagehere. After what that countess said to me I wasnt going to loseanother child or trust John. And I don't want my grandchildren to dieany more than my children.HYPATIA. Do you think Bentley will ever be as big a man as hisfather? I dont mean clever: I mean big and strong.MRS TARLETON. Not he. Hes overbred, like one of those expensivelittle dogs. I like a bit of a mongrel myself, whether it's a man ora dog: theyre the best for everyday. But we all have our tastes:whats one woman's meat is another woman's poison. Bunny's a dearlittle fellow; but I never could have fancied him for a husband when Iwas your age.HYPATIA. Yes; but he has some brains. Hes not like all the rest.One can't have everything.MRS TARLETON. Oh, youre quite right, dear: quite right. It's agreat thing to have brains: look what it's done for your father!Thats the reason I never said a word when you jilted poor JerryMackintosh.HYPATIA.[excusing herself]I really couldnt stick it out withJerry, mother. I know you liked him; and nobody can deny that hes asplendid animal—MRS TARLETON.[shocked]Hypatia! How can you! The things thatgirls say nowadays!HYPATIA. Well, what else can you call him? If I'd been deaf or he'dbeen dumb, I could have married him. But living with father, Ive gotaccustomed to cleverness. Jerry would drive me mad: you know verywell hes a fool: even Johnny thinks him a fool.MRS TARLETON.[up in arms at once in defence of her boy]Now dontbegin about my Johnny. You know it annoys me. Johnny's as clever asanybody else in his own way. I dont say hes as clever as you in someways; but hes a man, at all events, and not a little squit of a thinglike your Bunny.HYPATIA. Oh, I say nothing against your darling: we all knowJohnny's perfection.MRS TARLETON. Dont be cross, dearie. You let Johnny alone; and I'lllet Bunny alone. I'm just as bad as you. There!HYPATIA. Oh, I dont mind your saying that about Bentley. It's true.He is a little squit of a thing. I wish he wasnt. But who else isthere? Think of all the other chances Ive had! Not one of them hasas much brains in his whole body as Bentley has in his little finger.Besides, theyve no distinction. It's as much as I can do to tell onefrom the other. They wouldnt even have money if they werent the sonsof their fathers, like Johnny. Whats a girl to do? I never metanybody like Bentley before. He may be small; but hes the best of thebunch: you cant deny that.MRS TARLETON.[with a sigh]Well, my pet, if you fancy him, theresno more to be said.A pause follows this remark: the two women sewing silently.HYPATIA. Mother: do you think marriage is as much a question offancy as it used to be in your time and father's?MRS TARLETON. Oh, it wasnt much fancy with me, dear: your fatherjust wouldnt take no for an answer; and I was only too glad to be hiswife instead of his shop-girl. Still, it's curious; but I had morechoice than you in a way, because, you see, I was poor; and there areso many more poor men than rich ones that I might have had more of apick, as you might say, if John hadnt suited me.HYPATIA. I can imagine all sorts of men I could fall in love with;but I never seem to meet them. The real ones are too small, likeBunny, or too silly, like Jerry. Of course one can get into a stateabout any man: fall in love with him if you like to call it that.But who would risk marrying a man for love?Ishouldnt. I rememberthree girls at school who agreed that the one man you should nevermarry was the man you were in love with, because it would make aperfect slave of you. Theres a sort of instinct against it, I think,thats just as strong as the other instinct. One of them, to mycertain knowledge, refused a man she was in love with, and marriedanother who was in love with her; and it turned out very well.MRS TARLETON. Does all that mean that youre not in love with Bunny?HYPATIA. Oh, how could anybody be in love with Bunny? I like him tokiss me just as I like a baby to kiss me. I'm fond of him; and henever bores me; and I see that hes very clever; but I'm not what youcall gone about him, if thats what you mean.MRS TARLETON. Then why need you marry him?HYPATIA. What better can I do? I must marry somebody, I suppose.Ive realized that since I was twenty-three. I always used to take itas a matter of course that I should be married before I was twenty.BENTLEY'S VOICE.[in the garden]Youve got to keep yourself fresh:to look at these things with an open mind.JOHN TARLETON'S VOICE. Quite right, quite right: I always say so.MRS TARLETON. Theres your father, and Bunny with him.BENTLEY. Keep young. Keep your eye on me. Thats the tip for you.Bentley and Mr Tarleton (an immense and genial veteran of trade) comeinto view and enter the pavilion.JOHN TARLETON. You think youre young, do you? You think I'm old?[energetically shaking off his motoring coat and hanging it up withhis cap].BENTLEY.[helping him with the coat]Of course youre old. Look atyour face and look at mine. What you call your youth is nothing butyour levity. Why do we get on so well together? Because I'm a youngcub and youre an old josser.[He throws a cushion at Hypatia's feetand sits down on it with his back against her knees].TARLETON. Old! Thats all you know about it, my lad. How do, Patsy![Hypatia kisses him].How is my Chickabiddy?[He kisses MrsTarleton's hand and poses expansively in the middle of the picture].Look at me! Look at these wrinkles, these gray hairs, this repulsivemask that you call old age! What is it?[Vehemently]I ask you,what is it?BENTLEY. Jolly nice and venerable, old man. Dont be discouraged.TARLETON. Nice? Not a bit of it. Venerable? Venerable be blowed!Read your Darwin, my boy. Read your Weismann.[He goes to thesideboard for a drink of lemonade].MRS TARLETON. For shame, John! Tell him to read his Bible.TARLETON.[manipulating the syphon]Whats the use of tellingchildren to read the Bible when you know they wont. I was kept awayfrom the Bible for forty years by being told to read it when I wasyoung. Then I picked it up one evening in a hotel in Sunderland whenI had left all my papers in the train; and I found it wasnt half bad.[He drinks, and puts down the glass with a smack of enjoyment].Better than most halfpenny papers, anyhow, if only you could makepeople believe it.[He sits down by the writing-table, near hiswife].But if you want to understand old age scientifically, readDarwin and Weismann. Of course if you want to understand itromantically, read about Solomon.MRS TARLETON. Have you had tea, John?TARLETON. Yes. Dont interrupt me when I'm improving the boy's mind.Where was I? This repulsive mask—Yes.[Explosively]What isdeath?MRS TARLETON. John!HYPATIA. Death is a rather unpleasant subject, papa.TARLETON. Not a bit. Not scientifically. Scientifically it's adelightful subject. You think death's natural. Well, it isnt. Youread Weismann. There wasnt any death to start with. You go look inany ditch outside and youll find swimming about there as fresh aspaint some of the identical little live cells that Adam christened inthe Garden of Eden. But if big things like us didnt die, we'd crowdone another off the face of the globe. Nothing survived, sir, exceptthe sort of people that had the sense and good manners to die and makeroom for the fresh supplies. And so death was introduced by NaturalSelection. You get it out of your head, my lad, that I'm going to diebecause I'm wearing out or decaying. Theres no such thing as decay toa vital man. I shall clear out; but I shant decay.BENTLEY. And what about the wrinkles and the almond tree and thegrasshopper that becomes a burden and the desire that fails?TARLETON. Does it? by George! No, sir: it spiritualizes. As toyour grasshopper, I can carry an elephant.MRS TARLETON. You do say such things, Bunny! What does he mean bythe almond tree?TARLETON. He means my white hairs: the repulsive mask. That, myboy, is another invention of Natural Selection to disgust young womenwith me, and give the lads a turn.MRS TARLETON. John: I wont have it. Thats a forbidden subject.TARLETON. They talk of the wickedness and vanity of women paintingtheir faces and wearing auburn wigs at fifty. But why shouldnt they?Why should a woman allow Nature to put a false mask of age on her whenshe knows that shes as young as ever? Why should she look in theglass and see a wrinkled lie when a touch of fine art will shew her aglorious truth? The wrinkles are a dodge to repel young men. Supposeshe doesnt want to repel young men! Suppose she likes them!MRS TARLETON. Bunny: take Hypatia out into the grounds for a walk:theres a good boy. John has got one of his naughty fits this evening.HYPATIA. Oh, never mind me. I'm used to him.BENTLEY. I'm not. I never heard such conversation: I cant believemy ears. And mind you, this is the man who objected to my marryinghis daughter on the ground that a marriage between a member of thegreat and good middle class with one of the vicious and corruptaristocracy would be a misalliance. A misalliance, if you please!This is the man Ive adopted as a father!TARLETON. Eh! Whats that? Adopted me as a father, have you?BENTLEY. Yes. Thats an idea of mine. I knew a chap named JoeyPercival at Oxford (you know I was two months at Balliol before I wassent down for telling the old woman who was head of that silly collegewhat I jolly well thought of him. He would have been glad to have meback, too, at the end of six months; but I wouldnt go: I just let himwant; and serve him right!) Well, Joey was a most awfully cleverfellow, and so nice! I asked him what made such a difference betweenhim and all the other pups—they were pups, if you like. He told meit was very simple: they had only one father apiece; and he hadthree.MRS TARLETON. Dont talk nonsense, child. How could that be?BENTLEY. Oh, very simple. His father—TARLETON. Which father?BENTLEY. The first one: the regulation natural chap. He kept a tamephilosopher in the house: a sort of Coleridge or Herbert Spencer kindof card, you know. That was the second father. Then his mother wasan Italian princess; and she had an Italian priest always about. Hewas supposed to take charge of her conscience; but from what I couldmake out, she jolly well took charge of his. The whole three of themtook charge of Joey's conscience. He used to hear them arguing likemad about everything. You see, the philosopher was a freethinker, andalways believed the latest thing. The priest didnt believe anything,because it was sure to get him into trouble with someone or another.And the natural father kept an open mind and believed whatever paidhim best. Between the lot of them Joey got cultivated no end. Hesaid if he could only have had three mothers as well, he'd have backedhimself against Napoleon.TARLETON.[impressed]Thats an idea. Thats a most interestingidea: a most important idea.MRS TARLETON. You always were one for ideas, John.TARLETON. Youre right, Chickabiddy. What do I tell Johnny when hebrags about Tarleton's Underwear? It's not the underwear. Theunderwear be hanged! Anybody can make underwear. Anybody can sellunderwear. Tarleton's Ideas: thats whats done it. Ive often thoughtof putting that up over the shop.BENTLEY. Take me into partnership when you do, old man. I'm wastedon the underwear; but I shall come in strong on the ideas.TARLETON. You be a good boy; and perhaps I will.MRS TARLETON.[scenting a plot against her beloved Johnny]Now,John: you promised—TARLETON. Yes, yes. All right, Chickabiddy: dont fuss. Yourprecious Johnny shant be interfered with.[Bouncing up, tooenergetic to sit still]But I'm getting sick of that old shop.Thirty-five years Ive had of it: same blessed old stairs to go up anddown every day: same old lot: same old game: sorry I ever startedit now. I'll chuck it and try something else: something that willgive a scope to all my faculties.HYPATIA. Theres money in underwear: theres none in wild-cat ideas.TARLETON. Theres money in me, madam, no matter what I go into.MRS TARLETON. Dont boast, John. Dont tempt Providence.TARLETON. Rats! You dont understand Providence. Providence likes tobe tempted. Thats the secret of the successful man. Read Browning.Natural theology on an island, eh? Caliban was afraid to temptProvidence: that was why he was never able to get even with Prospero.What did Prospero do? Prospero didnt even tempt Providence: he wasProvidence. Thats one of Tarleton's ideas; and dont you forget it.BENTLEY. You are full of beef today, old man.TARLETON. Beef be blowed! Joy of life. Read Ibsen.[He goes intothe pavilion to relieve his restlessness, and stares out with hishands thrust deep in his pockets].HYPATIA.[thoughtful]Bentley: couldnt you invite your friend MrPercival down here?BENTLEY. Not if I know it. Youd throw me over the moment you seteyes on him.MRS TARLETON. Oh, Bunny! For shame!BENTLEY. Well, who'd marry me, dyou suppose, if they could get mybrains with a full-sized body? No, thank you. I shall take jollygood care to keep Joey out of this until Hypatia is past praying for.Johnny and Lord Summerhays return through the pavilion from theirstroll.TARLETON. Welcome! welcome! Why have you stayed away so long?LORD SUMMERHAYS.[shaking hands]Yes: I should have come sooner.But I'm still rather lost in England.[Johnny takes his hat andhangs it up beside his own].Thank you.[Johnny returns to hisswing and his novel. Lord Summerhays comes to the writing table].The fact is that as Ive nothing to do, I never have time to goanywhere.[He sits down next Mrs Tarleton].TARLETON.[following him and sitting down on his left]Paradox,paradox. Good. Paradoxes are the only truths. Read Chesterton. Buttheres lots for you to do here. You have a genius for government.You learnt your job out there in Jinghiskahn. Well, we want to begoverned here in England. Govern us.LORD SUMMERHAYS. Ah yes, my friend; but in Jinghiskahn you have togovern the right way. If you dont, you go under and come home. Hereeverything has to be done the wrong way, to suit governors whounderstand nothing but partridge shooting (our English native princes,in fact) and voters who dont know what theyre voting about. I dontunderstand these democratic games; and I'm afraid I'm too old tolearn. What can I do but sit in the window of my club, which consistsmostly of retired Indian Civil servants? We look on at the muddle andthe folly and amateurishness; and we ask each other where a singlefortnight of it would have landed us.TARLETON. Very true. Still, Democracy's all right, you know. ReadMill. Read Jefferson.LORD SUMMERHAYS. Yes. Democracy reads well; but it doesnt act well,like some people's plays. No, no, my friend Tarleton: to makeDemocracy work, you need an aristocratic democracy. To makeAristocracy work, you need a democratic aristocracy. Youve gotneither; and theres an end of it.TARLETON. Still, you know, the superman may come. The superman's anidea. I believe in ideas. Read Whatshisname.LORD SUMMERHAYS. Reading is a dangerous amusement, Tarleton. I wishI could persuade your free library people of that.TARLETON. Why, man, it's the beginning of education.LORD SUMMERHAYS. On the contrary, it's the end of it. How can youdare teach a man to read until youve taught him everything else first?JOHNNY.[intercepting his father's reply by coming out of the swingand taking the floor]Leave it at that. Thats good sense. Anybodyon for a game of tennis?BENTLEY. Oh, lets have some more improving conversation. Wouldnt yourather, Johnny?JOHNNY. If you ask me, no.TARLETON. Johnny: you dont cultivate your mind. You dont read.JOHNNY.[coming between his mother and Lord Summerhays, book inhand]Yes I do. I bet you what you like that, page for page, I readmore than you, though I dont talk about it so much. Only, I dont readthe same books. I like a book with a plot in it. You like a bookwith nothing in it but some idea that the chap that writes it keepsworrying, like a cat chasing its own tail. I can stand a little ofit, just as I can stand watching the cat for two minutes, say, whenIve nothing better to do. But a man soon gets fed up with that sortof thing. The fact is, you look on an author as a sort of god.Ilook on him as a man that I pay to do a certain thing for me. I payhim to amuse me and to take me out of myself and make me forget.TARLETON. No. Wrong principle. You want to remember. Read Kipling."Lest we forget."JOHNNY. If Kipling wants to remember, let him remember. If he had torun Tarleton's Underwear, he'd be jolly glad to forget. As he has amuch softer job, and wants to keep himself before the public, his cryis, "Dont you forget the sort of things I'm rather clever at writingabout." Well, I dont blame him: it's his business: I should do thesame in his place. But what he wants and what I want are twodifferent things. I want to forget; and I pay another man to make meforget. If I buy a book or go to the theatre, I want to forget theshop and forget myself from the moment I go in to the moment I comeout. Thats what I pay my money for. And if I find that the author'ssimply getting at me the whole time, I consider that hes obtained mymoney under false pretences. I'm not a morbid crank: I'm a naturalman; and, as such, I dont like being got at. If a man in myemployment did it, I should sack him. If a member of my club did it,I should cut him. If he went too far with it, I should bring hisconduct before the committee. I might even punch his head, if it cameto that. Well, who and what is an author that he should be privilegedto take liberties that are not allowed to other men?MRS TARLETON. You see, John! What have I always told you? Johnnyhas as much to say for himself as anybody when he likes.JOHNNY. I'm no fool, mother, whatever some people may fancy. I dontset up to have as many ideas as the Governor; but what ideas I haveare consecutive, at all events. I can think as well as talk.BENTLEY.[to Tarleton, chuckling]Had you there, old man, hadnthe? You are rather all over the shop with your ideas, aint you?JOHNNY.[handsomely]I'm not saying anything against you,Governor. But I do say that the time has come for sane, healthy,unpretending men like me to make a stand against this conspiracy ofthe writing and talking and artistic lot to put us in the back row.It isnt a fact that we're inferior to them: it's a put-up job; andit's they that have put the job up. It's we that run the country forthem; and all the thanks we get is to be told we're Philistines andvulgar tradesmen and sordid city men and so forth, and that theyre allangels of light and leading. The time has come to assert ourselvesand put a stop to their stuck-up nonsense. Perhaps if we had nothingbetter to do than talking or writing, we could do it better than they.Anyhow, theyre the failures and refuse of business (hardly a man ofthem that didnt begin in an office) and we're the successes of it.Thank God I havnt failed yet at anything; and I dont believe I shouldfail at literature if it would pay me to turn my hand to it.BENTLEY. Hear, hear!MRS TARLETON. Fancy you writing a book, Johnny! Do you think hecould, Lord Summerhays?LORD SUMMERHAYS. Why not? As a matter of fact all the reallyprosperous authors I have met since my return to England have beenvery like him.TARLETON.[again impressed]Thats an idea. Thats a new idea. Ibelieve I ought to have made Johnny an author. Ive never said sobefore for fear of hurting his feelings, because, after all, the ladcant help it; but Ive never thought Johnny worth tuppence as a man ofbusiness.JOHNNY.[sarcastic]Oh! You think youve always kept that toyourself, do you, Governor? I know your opinion of me as well as youknow it yourself. It takes one man of business to appreciate another;and you arnt, and you never have been, a real man of business. I knowwhere Tarleton's would have been three of four times if it hadnt beenfor me.[With a snort and a nod to emphasize the implied warning, heretreats to the Turkish bath, and lolls against it with an air ofgood-humoured indifference].TARLETON. Well, who denies it? Youre quite right, my boy. I don'tmind confessing to you all that the circumstances that condemned me tokeep a shop are the biggest tragedy in modern life. I ought to havebeen a writer. I'm essentially a man of ideas. When I was a youngman I sometimes used to pray that I might fail, so that I should bejustified in giving up business and doing something: somethingfirst-class. But it was no good: I couldnt fail. I said to myselfthat if I could only once go to my Chickabiddy here and shew her achartered accountant's statement proving that I'd made 20 pounds lessthan last year, I could ask her to let me chance Johnny's andHypatia's future by going into literature. But it was no good. Firstit was 250 pounds more than last year. Then it was 700 pounds. Thenit was 2000 pounds. Then I saw it was no use: Prometheus was chainedto his rock: read Shelley: read Mrs Browning. Well, well, it wasnot to be.[He rises solemnly].Lord Summerhays: I ask you toexcuse me for a few moments. There are times when a man needs tomeditate in solitude on his destiny. A chord is touched; and he seesthe drama of his life as a spectator sees a play. Laugh if you feelinclined: no man sees the comic side of it more than I. In thetheatre of life everyone may be amused except the actor.[Brightening]Theres an idea in this: an idea for a picture. Whata pity young Bentley is not a painter! Tarleton meditating on hisdestiny. Not in a toga. Not in the trappings of the tragedian or thephilosopher. In plain coat and trousers: a man like any other man.And beneath that coat and trousers a human soul. Tarleton'sUnderwear![He goes out gravely into the vestibule].MRS TARLETON.[fondly]I suppose it's a wife's partiality, LordSummerhays; but I do think John is really great. I'm sure he wasmeant to be a king. My father looked down on John, because he was arate collector, and John kept a shop. It hurt his pride to have toborrow money so often from John; and he used to console himself bysaying, "After all, he's only a linendraper." But at last one day hesaid to me, "John is a king."BENTLEY. How much did he borrow on that occasion?LORD SUMMERHAYS.[sharply]Bentley!MRS TARLETON. Oh, dont scold the child: he'd have to say somethinglike that if it was to be his last word on earth. Besides, hes quiteright: my poor father had asked for his usual five pounds; and Johngave him a hundred in his big way. Just like a king.LORD SUMMERHAYS. Not at all. I had five kings to manage inJinghiskahn; and I think you do your husband some injustice, MrsTarleton. They pretended to like me because I kept their brothersfrom murdering them; but I didnt like them. And I like Tarleton.MRS TARLETON. Everybody does. I really must go and make the cook dohim a Welsh rabbit. He expects one on special occasions.[She goesto the inner door].Johnny: when he comes back ask him where we'reto put that new Turkish bath. Turkish baths are his latest.[Shegoes out].JOHNNY.[coming forward again]Now that the Governor has givenhimself away, and the old lady's gone, I'll tell you something, LordSummerhays. If you study men whove made an enormous pile in businesswithout being keen on money, youll find that they all have a slateoff. The Governor's a wonderful man; but hes not quite all there, youknow. If you notice, hes different from me; and whatever my failingsmay be, I'm a sane man. Erratic: thats what he is. And the dangeris that some day he'll give the whole show away.