THE THIRD ACT

[Freddielooks at them suspiciously.

Freddie.

Look here, you’re not pulling my leg all the time, are you?

Mrs. Dot.

My dear, I should never take such a liberty.

Freddie.

I don’t believe a word of what you’ve told me. Why should she care for me? You’ve simply been humbugging me right and left.

[For a momentMrs. Dotis taken aback, but she seesLady Sellengercoming through the garden withGerald.

Mrs. Dot.

Here’s Lady Sellenger. You won’t accuse her of trying to make a fool of you. [Lady SellengerandGeraldappear.] I’ve just been talking to Freddie about—about your girl.

Lady Sellenger.

Oh yes. [ToFreddie.] My poor boy, you’re in a very difficult position.

Freddie.

Then you know all about it, too?

Lady Sellenger.

I really feel for you very much. You’ll want a great deal of tact and a great deal of courage. But you must do your duty.

[She turns aside toBlenkinsop.

Mrs. Dot.

[In an undertone toFreddie.] Now have I been pulling your leg?

Freddie.

Poor girl!

[He goes into the house.

Lady Sellenger.

[Looking at him as he goes.] What a beautiful and touching thing love is.

Blenkinsop.

You must take care, Lady Sellenger. You’re growing sentimental.

Lady Sellenger.

But I’ve always been as sentimental as a schoolgirl in my heart. Only, so long as Nellie’s future wasunarranged, I was obliged to keep a tight hand on myself.

Mrs. Dot.

Of course, Jimmie laughs; he doesn’t know what love is.

Lady Sellenger.

Have you never been loved for yourself, Mr. Blenkinsop?

Blenkinsop.

I have, but I have always found it deuced expensive.

Gerald.

I’m afraid Blenkinsop doesn’t set much store on the gentle sex.

Blenkinsop.

Don’t call them gentle. They’re very much rougher than men.

Mrs. Dot.

Stop him, or he’ll utter a whole string of horrors.

Blenkinsop.

Have you never watched the gentle sex fight and push and scramble as it gets into the Hammersmith bus? I assure you, the unlucky man who finds himself in that seething feminine crowd is fortunate if he escapes without losing an eye or half his teeth. And have you seen the fury of the gentle sex at a sale as they seize some worthless fragment, and the bitterness with which they haggle? The other day I was in the Army and Navy Stores, and two women were standing on the stairs, discussing their servants, so that no one could pass up and down. I took off myhat and said: Excuse me, would you allow me to pass. They moved barely two inches, and one of them said in a loud voice to the other: What an impertinent man. The gentle sex! Yesterday I was hanging on a strap in a crowded train coming from the city, and I saw a pale-faced weary clerk give up his seat to a strong and bouncing girl. She took it without saying thank you, because she was a lady and he wasn’t a gentleman. Then a tired old woman came in and stood, but the bouncing girl never thought of giving up the seat to her. The gentle sex! They have such tender hearts they couldn’t bear to hurt a fly. Have you ever seen a woman get out of a bus ten yards before her destination in order to save the wretched horses another start? Not much. Have you ever known a woman of fashion who sends her maid to bed when she knows she won’t be in till four in the morning? Not much. And is there anything like the insolence with which a woman treats her social inferiors of the same sex? Is it men who put on their backs the sealskins that are torn off the living bodies of helpless brutes? Is it men who put on their hats the beautiful birds of the forest? It’s the gentle sex. Boys are taught manners. They are taught to take off their hats and hold open the door for their sisters. They are taught to fetch and carry for women, and to give up the front seat in life to women. But what are girls taught? Girls are taught etiquette, and that, I suppose, makes them in due course the gentle sex.

Lady Sellenger.

Every one knows you’re a horrible cynic, so there can’t be a word of truth in anything you say.

Blenkinsop.

Q.E.D.

Gerald.

Here comes Nellie.

[Nelliecomes in, having changed her dress. She now wears a very pretty white frock, all flounces and furbelows, and a large white hat. At the same moment from the other sideFreddieenters. He also has changed, and is now in spotless white.

Mrs. Dot.

[With a laugh, whispering toBlenkinsop.] They’ve both changed their clothes.

Gerald.

Would you like to come for a row, Nellie?

Nellie.

I’m too tired. Won’t you go with Mrs. Dot? I’ll rest here till tea-time.

[Nelliesits down, and the others go.

Lady Sellenger.

Personally, I must walk. I sacrifice all my inclinations to my fear of growing too stout. I often wonder if we shall get our good dinners in heaven that we’ve done without on earth.

Blenkinsop.

It’s generally understood that we shall only get our deserts.

[Nelliewatches them go from over her shoulder. She sees thatFreddieis hanging back. She smiles and elaborately disregards him. He comes forward and leans over her chair.

Nellie.

Aren’t you going with the others?

Freddie.

Do you mind if I stay with you?

Nellie.

I like it.

Freddie.

Jolly here, isn’t it?

Nellie.

Awfully jolly.

Freddie.

I’ve not congratulated you on your engagement yet.

Nellie.

I didn’t expect you would.

Freddie.

Why?

Nellie.

Oh, I don’t know.

Freddie.

It seems a long time since we first met, doesn’t it?

Nellie.

Why?

Freddie.

Because I seem to know you so well.

Nellie.

You’re very easy to get to know, aren’t you?

Freddie.

I say, you look just like another rose in this garden.

Nellie.

I suppose you say that to every girl who sits here?

Freddie.

I’ve never said it to any one but you.

Nellie.

They tell me you’re very impressionable.

Freddie.

They lie.

Nellie.

I think I shall take off my hat.

Freddie.

Yes, do.

[She proceeds to do so. She pretends that she cannot.

Nellie.

Oh, how stupid of me! Something has caught.

Freddie.

May I help you?

Nellie.

I’m afraid I’m giving you a lot of trouble.

[He helps her, and she gives a little scream.

Freddie.

Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?

Nellie.

No, but it tickled.

[She takes off the hat. One hand of hers remains in his. Their eyes meet for the first time, and they smile.

Freddie.

I say, what a pretty hand you have! It looks so white on mine, doesn’t it?

[Mrs. Dotcreeps back and stands behind a bush, so that she cannot be seen.

Nellie.

I rather like your hand. It’s so strong and brown.

Freddie.

You know, you’re awfully easy to get on with. Sometimes I feel dreadfully shy and nervous with women, but I can think of all sorts of things I want to say to you.

Nellie.

Iseem to have known you all my life.

Freddie.

[Impulsively.] Isn’t it jolly here?

Nellie.

Awfully jolly.

[He looks at her for a moment.

Freddie.

I want to ask you something. You won’t be angry, will you?

Nellie.

No.

Freddie.

May I kiss you?

Nellie.

No.

Freddie.

It’s awfully unkind of you.

Nellie.

You shouldn’t have asked.

Freddie.

Shouldn’t I? I wanted to, badly.

Nellie.

There are some things one should do without asking.

Freddie.

You are a brick.

[He kisses her. As he does so,Hollingtoncomes in and sees them. He stops for a moment in astonishment, then withdraws.

Freddie.

Let’s go on the river, shall we?

Nellie.

I told Gerald I was too tired.

Freddie.

Oh, hang Gerald!

Nellie.

We might go and play the piano in the drawing-room.

Freddie.

I’m awfully fond of music. Cake-walks, and things like that, you know.

[They get up.Mrs. Dotcomes forward.

Mrs. Dot.

Are you going? I thought you were tired.

Nellie.

We’re just going to look at the kitchen garden.

Freddie.

I’ve told Miss Sellenger that you’ve got some most awfully good carrots.

Mrs. Dot.

[As they go to the house.] That’s not the way, you know.

Nellie.

[Coolly.] I’m only just going to get a handkerchief.

Mrs. Dot.

Oh, I see. I beg your pardon.

[They go.Geraldcomes forward. He is rather grave and solemn.

Mrs. Dot.

What a picture they make, don’t they? I can’t tell you how much I like Nellie.

Gerald.

You’ve come to the conclusion that the cut of her skirt’s all right.

Mrs. Dot.

Ah, you mustn’t recall what I said when I was in a temper. You know, I’m rather touched by her obvious affection for you.

Gerald.

It’s very good of you to say so.

Mrs. Dot.

It’s so nice to see two people head over ears in love with one another.

Gerald.

I wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to think Nellie was so much in love with me as all that.

Mrs. Dot.

My dear boy, I’ve just had proof of it.

Gerald.

Have you? That’s more than I have.

Mrs. Dot.

And is dear Lady Sellenger going to live with you when you’re married?

Gerald.

Look here, Dot, what’s the meaning of all this?

Mrs. Dot.

[Much surprised.] Of what?

Gerald.

Why did you ask us all down?

Mrs. Dot.

Because I’m of a hospitable turn of mind. Didn’t you want to come? I’m so sorry.

Gerald.

You’ve utterly ignored me since I arrived.

Mrs. Dot.

[Ironically.] Much as I should have liked to devote myself exclusively to your entertainment, I’ve been really obliged to remember that my other guests had equal claims upon me.

Gerald.

I should very much like to take you by the shoulders and give you a good shaking.

Mrs. Dot.

I don’t think you’re in a very good temper to-day.

Gerald.

[Crossly.] Pardon me, I’m in the best possible temper.

Mrs. Dot.

You certainly ought to be with the prospect of spending a week in almost uninterruptedtête-à-têtewith the object of your affections.

Gerald.

I can’t make you out. You’re so changed since last we met.

Mrs. Dot.

You see, last time I thought I was in love with you. Now I know I’m not.

Gerald.

[Bitterly.] I’m glad you’ve got over it so quickly.

Mrs. Dot.

Really, you couldn’t wish me to continue eating my heart out for a young man, however charming, who is going to marry somebody else.

Gerald.

Of course not.

Mrs. Dot.

[Mockingly.] Well?

Gerald.

I was a fool to think you ever cared at all.

Mrs. Dot.

But why should you think it when you took the greatest pains to assure me that you didn’t care two straws for me?

Gerald.

[Quickly.] I didn’t!

Mrs. Dot.

You did!

Gerald.

I didn’t!

Mrs. Dot.

Then you did care for me?

Gerald.

I never said that.

Mrs. Dot.

Anyhow, whatever your sentiments were, it would gratify your self-esteem to think that I was languishing with a hopeless passion.

Gerald.

It’s cruel of you to laugh at me.

Mrs. Dot.

By the way, are you by any chance in love with me now?

Gerald.

You have no right to ask me that question.

Mrs. Dot.

My dear boy, I’m not keeping you from spending an idyllic afternoon with Nellie. You’ve forced this conversation upon me. I assure you it’s most distasteful.

Gerald.

If I had married you, I should certainly have beaten you with a big stick.

Mrs. Dot.

What do you think is my chief characteristic?

Gerald.

That’s a question Icananswer. The most confounded and aggravating unreasonableness that I ever saw.

Mrs. Dot.

Nonsense. It’s obvious that my chief characteristic is a sweet and yielding nature. But as there’s no likelihood of our agreeing on that, what do you think is the second?

Gerald.

Obstinacy.

Mrs. Dot.

Well, I prefer to call it strength of mind. Now, I’ll acknowledge that I was in love with you—a month ago. That’s a feather in your cap.

Gerald.

Oh, I wish we were back again. I’ve had such rotten luck.

Mrs. Dot.

But when I saw that my sweetness was likely to be wasted on the desert air, I made up my mind to cure myself. First I cried for two days.

Gerald.

Dot.

Mrs. Dot.

No, don’t sympathise. I have rather a high colour, and when I’ve had a good cry it always improves my complexion. After that, I ordered some new frocks, and I bought a diamond necklace that I’d been hankering after for some time.

Gerald.

And that thoroughly consoled you, I suppose?

Mrs. Dot.

It helped. Then I came to the conclusion that there were as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it. I thought you over. After all, you’re not really very good-looking, are you?

Gerald.

I’m not aware that I ever made any pretence of being so.

Mrs. Dot.

And I’m sure no one could accuse you of being extremely amusing.

Gerald.

I have no doubt I’m excessively dull.

Mrs. Dot.

I couldn’t help seeing that you’d suit Nellie much better than you would have suited me. She has that comfortable stupidity which the average Englishman looks upon as the highest recommendation for a wife.

Gerald.

It’s charming of you to say so.

Mrs. Dot.

Sheisa little dull, isn’t she?

Gerald.

I don’t think her so.

Mrs. Dot.

Doesn’t time hang rather heavily on your hands now and then? Isn’t it difficult to find topics of conversation?

Gerald.

I don’t find it so.

Mrs. Dot.

Ah—she does.

Gerald.

And the long and short of it is that the emotion which you dignify with the name of love, had entirely disappeared after a week.

Mrs. Dot.

Make it ten days to be on the safe side.

Gerald.

I congratulate you.

Mrs. Dot.

You wouldn’t have it otherwise, surely?

Gerald.

Of course not.

Mrs. Dot.

Then all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds.

Gerald.

[Furiously.] I think you must be quite heartless.

Mrs. Dot.

[Delighted.] Ah, that’s what I said to you a month ago, Philippine.

Gerald.

Now, perhaps, you’d like to know what my feeling is towards you?

Mrs. Dot.

No, I’m quite indifferent, thanks!

Gerald.

Well, I shall tell you for all that. It’s a joke to you, and you can afford to laugh at it.

[He goes up to her and then stops suddenly.

Mrs. Dot.

Well?

Gerald.

Nothing.

Mrs. Dot.

Oh! My poor heart went pit-a-pat. I thought you were going to kiss me.

Gerald.

I hate you. And I wish I’d never set eyes on you.

[He turns on his heel and walks out quickly. As soon as he is goneMrs. Dotbegins to dance a break-down. She cocks a snook after him.

Mrs. Dot.

I’ll marry you yet, you beast, I’ll marry you yet.

[Blenkinsopcomes in.

Blenkinsop.

What on earth is the matter with you now?

[From inside is heard the sound of a cake-walk.

Mrs. Dot.

Come on.

[She seizes him and begins to dance.

Blenkinsop.

Unhand me, woman!

Mrs. Dot.

Oh, you dear, you dear, you dear.

[She flings both arms round his neck and kisses him soundly. At this momentGeraldreturns.

Gerald.

I beg your pardon. I forgot my hat.

[He takes it and goes out stiffly.Mrs. Dotbursts into a shriek of laughter.

Blenkinsop.

That’s all very fine. But what about my character?

END OF THE SECOND ACT

A hall inMrs. Worthley’shouse on the River.GeraldandNellieare seated in arm-chairs. She stifles a yawn. Then he yawns.

A hall inMrs. Worthley’shouse on the River.

GeraldandNellieare seated in arm-chairs. She stifles a yawn. Then he yawns.

Gerald.

I beg your pardon.

Nellie.

[Yawning.] I never saw any one who yawned so much as you.

Gerald.

[Ironically.] I suppose you’ve never looked at yourself in the glass?

Nellie.

Is your family very long-lived, Gerald?

Gerald.

[Rather surprised.] Are you already asking yourself how you’ll look in widow’s weeds?

Nellie.

You may very well live for forty years, mayn’t you?

Gerald.

My maternal grandfather survived to plague his descendants to the ripe age of ninety-seven.

Nellie.

How many days are there in forty years?

Gerald.

I should think about fifteen thousand.

Nellie.

Has it occurred to you that we may eat fifteen thousand breakfasts sitting opposite one another, and fifteen thousand luncheons, and fifteen thousand dinners?

Gerald.

[Gloomily.] Yes, it had occurred to me.

Nellie.

And how do you look upon the prospect?

Gerald.

[Grimly.] It fills me with satisfaction, naturally.

Nellie.

[Abruptly.] I suppose you’re very much in love with me?

Gerald.

What an extraordinary question!

Nellie.

I don’t think any one but a lunatic would describe you as an ardent lover.

Gerald.

[Coldly.] I regret that my behaviour doesn’t meet with your satisfaction.

Nellie.

Do you know that since we became definitely engaged you’ve never told me that you cared for me?

Gerald.

[Apologetically.] Yes, I ought to have done that, oughtn’t I? I suppose I thought you’d take it for granted.

Nellie.

Every girl likes a suspicion of romance thrown over her love-affairs.

Gerald.

Your mother will tell you that the certainty of marriage is much more satisfactory.

Nellie.

[Dryly.] You would have made an excellent husband—for mother.

Gerald.

Have you noticed that when wedothink of something to talk about, we get perilously near a squabble?

Nellie.

I sometimes think it would be better to quarrel outright now and then than be always so desperately polite to one another.

Gerald.

I’m afraid I have an admirable temper.

Nellie.

Mother always says you have all the virtues.

Gerald.

Shall we look at theSketchtogether?

Nellie.

We’ve looked at theSketchtogether three times. [Following his eye, which goes to other illustrated papers on the table.] And theIllustrated, and theSphere, and theGraphic.

Gerald.

Then what would you like to do?

Nellie.

I should like toSCREAM.

Gerald.

Would you, by George? So would I.

Nellie.

Oh, Gerald, let’s have a good scream together.

EnterLady SellengerandMrs. Dot.

Lady Sellenger.

[With a bland smile.] What a picture they make!

Mrs. Dot.

[Acidly.] It’s quite charming to see two young things so engrossed in one another’s society.

Lady Sellenger.

Now, you really mustn’t waste this beautiful afternoon. You must go and have a nice long walk together.

Nellie.

We had a nice long walk this morning.

Mrs. Dot.

[Sweetly.] Then why don’t you go on the river? You can take your tea with you and spend the whole afternoon there.

Gerald.

We spent the whole afternoon on the river yesterday, and you kindly gave us our tea to take with us.

Lady Sellenger.

It reminds me of the happy days when I was engaged to your poor father, Nellie. We were just like you and Gerald. We couldn’t bear to be out of one another’s sight. Now, run and get your hat, darling.

Nellie.

Oh, mamma, I’ve got the most dreadful headache that I’ve ever had in my life, and I must really go and lie down.

Lady Sellenger.

Nonsense. An afternoon in the fresh air with Gerald is just the thing to put you right.

Gerald.

I’m so sorry, but I have some very important letters to write. Imustcatch the post.

Mrs. Dot.

[Sweetly.] You’ll have lots of time when you come in. The post doesn’t go till after dinner.

Lady Sellenger.

If you make excuses like that, poor Nellie will think she bores you already.

Gerald.

In that case I shall be only too glad to go on the river.

Mrs. Dot.

Take my sunshade, darling. You won’t want a hat.

Nellie.

[Savagely.] Thank you, dear.

[NellieandGeraldgo out gloomily.

Lady Sellenger.

Just like humming-birds, aren’t they?

Mrs. Dot.

Do you mean turtle-doves by any chance?

Lady Sellenger.

I was never very good at natural history.... Dear Mrs. Worthley, I must really thank you for the tact with which you’ve thrown Gerald and Nellie in one another’s society every moment of the day.

Mrs. Dot.

I can flatter myself thatthey’vethoroughly enjoyed their week here.

[Aunt Eliza,comes in withBlenkinsop.

Lady Sellenger.

[With a look of intelligence.] Dear Mr. Blenkinsop, you wicked, wicked cynic. [Meaningly.] I shall go and lie down. Are you coming upstairs, Miss MacGregor?

Aunt Eliza.

In one minute.

Lady Sellenger.

I want to have a little talk with you. [AsBlenkinsopholds open the door for her, in a whisper.] Aren’t I tactful?

[Lady Sellengergoes out.

Blenkinsop.

What villainy is that old woman up to now?

Mrs. Dot.

You idiot! Don’t you see that she’s discovered the passion that devours our hearts—your manly bosom and my timid, fluttering heart—and she wants to leave us alone.

Blenkinsop.

I’m beginning to feel very unwell.

Mrs. Dot.

[Archly.] Wouldn’t you be rather flattered if I really were in love with you?

Blenkinsop.

[Alarmed.] Dot, don’t make these horrible suggestions. You make my flesh creep.

Mrs. Dot.

But you’ve been so cold, you haven’t given me a chance.

Blenkinsop.

Cold! Heaven knows what would have happened if I’d given you any encouragement. I’ve never been able to take my eyes off the ground without finding yours fixed on me with the languishing expression of a dying duck in a thunderstorm. I’ve never been able to go near you without your stroking me as if I were a velvet cushion or a Persian cat. I’ve not eaten a single meal in peace in case you suddenly took it into your head to press my foot under the table.

Mrs. Dot.

What would you have done if I had?

Blenkinsop.

[With outraged dignity.] I should have screamed! And the thought of that special licence has cast a chill in my heart. I don’t know what it’s all coming to. You are my witness, Miss MacGregor, that I won’t marry her, however deeply she compromises me.

Aunt Eliza.

[Smiling.] I am your witness.

Blenkinsop.

She shan’t make an honest man of me.

Back to Index Next