(Polite to the last, she vanishes gracefully away from the vicinity of the coal-box. The place where she has been stooping knows her no more.)
laura(rushing round the intervening table to investigate). Julia!
(Martha is quite as much surprised as Mrs. James, but less indignant.)
martha.Well! Did you ever?
laura(facing about after vain search). Does she think that is the proper way to behave tome? Julia!
martha.It's no good, Laura. You know Julia, as well as I do. If she makes up her mind to a thing——
laura.Yes. She's been waiting here to exercise her patience on me, and now she's happy! Well, she'll have to learn that this house doesn't belong toherany longer. She has got to accommodate herself to living with others. . . . I wonder how she'd like me to go and sit in that pet chair of hers?
julia(softly reappearing in the chair which the 'dear Mother' usually occupies). You can go and sit in it if you wish, Laura.
laura(ignoring her return). Martha, do you remember that odious man who used to live next door, who played the 'cello on Sundays?
martha.Oh yes, I remember. They used to hang out washing in the garden, didn't they?
laura(very scandalously). Julia is friends with him! They call on each other. His wife doesn't live with him any longer.
(Julia rises and goes slowly and majestically out of the room.)
laura(after relishing what she conceives to be her rout of the enemy). Martha, what do you think of Julia?
martha.Oh, she's—— What do you want me to think?
laura.High and mighty as ever, isn't she? She's been here by herself so long she thinks the whole place is hers.
martha.I daresay we shall settle down well enough presently. Which room are you sleeping in?
laura.Of course, I have my old one. Where do you want to go?
martha.The green room will suit me.
laura.And Julia means to keep our Mother's room: I can see that. No wonder she won't come and stay.
martha.Have you seen her?
laura.She just 'looked in,' as Julia calls it. I could see she'd hoped to find me alone. Julia always thoughtshewas the favourite. I knew better.
martha.How was she?
laura.Just her old self; but as if she missed something. It wasn't ahappyface, until I spoke to her: then it all brightened up. . . . Oh, thank you for the wreath, Martha. Where did you get it?
martha.Emily made it.
laura.That fool! Then she made her own too, I suppose?
martha.Yes. That went the day before, so you got it in time.
laura.I thought it didn't look up to much. (She is now contemplating Emily's second effort with a critical eye.) Now a little maiden-hair fern would have made a world of difference.
martha.I don't hold with flowers myself. I think it's wasteful. But, of course, one has to do it.
laura(with pained regret). I'm sorry, Martha; I return it—with many thanks.
martha.What's the good of that? I can't give it back to Emily, now!
laura(with quiet grief). I don't wish to be a cause of waste.
martha.Well, take it to pieces, then; and put them in water—or wear it round your head!
laura.Ten beautiful wreaths my friends sent me. They are all lying on my grave now! A pity that love is so wasteful! Well, I suppose I must go now and change into my cap. (Goes to the door, where she encounters Julia.) Why, Julia, you nearly knocked me down!
julia(ironically). I beg your pardon, Laura; it comes of using the same door. Hannah has lighted a fire in your room.
laura.That's sensible at any rate.
(ExitMrs. James.)
julia.Well? And how do you find Laura?
martha.Julia, I don't know whether I can stand her.
julia.She hasn't got quite—used to herself yet.
martha(explosively). Put that away somewhere!
(She gives an angry shove to the wreath.)
julia.Put it away! Why?
martha(furiously). Emily made it: and it didn'tcost anything; and it hasn't got any maiden-hair fern in it; and it's too big to wear with her cap. So it's good for nothing! Put it on the fire! She doesn't want to see it again.
julia(comprehending the situation, restores the wreath to its box). Why did you bring it here, Martha?
martha(miserably). I don't know. I just clung on to it. I suppose it was on my mind to look after it, and see it wasn't damaged. So I found I'd brought it with me. . . . I believe, now I think of it, I've brought some sandwiches, too. (She routs in a small hand-bag.) Yes, I have. Well, I can have them for supper. . . . Emily made those too.
julia.Then I think you'd better let Hannah have them—for the sake of peace.
martha(woefully). I thought Iwasgoing to have peace here.
julia.It will be all right, Martha—presently.
martha.Well, I don't want to be uncharitable; but I do wish—I must say it—I do wish Laura had been cremated.
(This is the nearest she can do for wishing her sister in the place to which she thinks she belongs. But the uncremated Mrs. James now re-enters in widow's cap.)
laura.Julia, have you ever seen Papa, since you came here?
julia(frigidly). No, I have not.
laura.Has our Mother seen him?
julia.I haven't—— (About to say the forbidden thing, she checks herself.) Mamma hasnotseen him: nor does she know his whereabouts.
laura.Does nobody know?
julia.Nobody that I know of.
laura.Well, but he must be somewhere. Is there no way of finding him?
julia.Perhaps you can devise one. I suppose, if we chose, we could go to him; but I'm not sure—as he doesn't come to us.
laura.Lor', Julia! Suppose he should be——
julia(deprecatingly). Oh, Laura!
laura.But, Julia, it's very awkward, not to know where one's own father is. Don't people ever ask?
julia.Never, I'm thankful to say.
laura.Why not?
julia.Perhapstheyknow better.
laura(after a pause). I'm afraid he didn't lead a good life.
martha.Oh, why can't you let the thing be? If you don't remember him, I do. I was fond of him. He was always very kind to us as children; and if he did run away with the governess it was a good riddance—so far as she was concerned. We hated her.
laura.I wonder whether they are together still. You haven't inquired afterher, I suppose?
julia(luxuriating in her weariness). I—have—not, Laura!
laura.Don't you think it's our solemn duty to inquire? I shall ask our Mother.
julia.I hope you will do nothing of the sort.
laura.But we ought to know: otherwise we don't know how to think of him, whether with mercy and pardon for his sins, or with reprobation.
martha(angrily). Why need you think? Why can't you leave him alone?
laura.An immortal soul, Martha. It's no good leaving him alone: that won't alter facts.
julia.I don't think this is quite a nice subject for discussion.
laura.Nice? Was it ever intended to be nice? Eternal punishment wasn't provided as a consolation prize for anybody, so far as I know.
martha.I think it's very horrible—for us to be sitting here—by the fire, and— (But theology is not Martha's strong point). Oh! why can't you leave it?
laura.Because it's got to be faced; and I mean to face it. Now, Martha, don't try to get out of it. We have got to find our Father.
julia.I think, before doing anything, we ought to consult Mamma.
laura.Very well; call her and consult her! You were against it just now.
julia.I am against it still. It's all so unnecessary.
martha.Lor', thereisMamma!
(Old Mrs. Robinson is once more in her place Martha makes a move toward her.)
julia.Don't, Martha. She doesn't like to be——
mrs. r.I've heard what you've been talking about. No, I haven't seen him. I've tried to get him to come to me, but he didn't seem to want. Martha, my dear, how are you?
martha.Oh, I'm—much as usual. And you, Mother?
mrs. r.Well, what about your Father? Who wants him?
laura.I want him, Mother.
mrs. r.What for?
laura.First we want to know what sort of a life he is leading. Then we want to ask him about his will.
julia.Oh, Laura!
martha.Idon't. I don't care if he made a dozen.
laura.So I thought if we allcalledhim.Youheard when I called, didn't you? Oh no, that was William.
mrs. r.Who's William?
laura.Didn't you know I was married?
mrs. r.No. Did he die?
laura.Well, now, couldn't we call him?
mrs. r.I daresay. He won't like it.
laura.He must. He belongs to us.
mrs. r.Yes, I suppose—as I wouldn't divorce him, though he wanted me to. I said marriages were made in Heaven.
a voice.Luckily, they don't last there.
(Greatly startled, they look around, and perceive presently in the mirror over the mantelpiece the apparition of a figure which they seem dimly to recognise. A tall, florid gentleman of the Dundreary type, with long side-whiskers, and dressed in the fashion of sixty years ago, has taken up his position to one side of the ormolu clock; standing, eye-glass in eye, with folded arms resting on the mantel-slab and a stylish hat in one hand, he gazes upon the assembled family with quizzical benevolence.)
mrs. r.(placidly). What, is that you, Thomas?
thomas(with the fashionable lisp of the fifties, always substituting 'th' for 's'). How do you do, Susan?
(There follows a pause, broken courageously by Mrs. James.)
laura.Areyoumy Father?
thomas.I don't know. Who areyou? Who are all of you?
laura.Perhaps I had better explain. This is our dear Mother: her you recognise. You are her husband; we are your daughters. This is Martha, this is Julia, and I'm Laura.
thomas.Is this true, Susan? Are these our progeny?
mrs. r.Yes—that is—yes, Thomas.
thomas.I should not have known it. They all look so much older.
laura.Than when you left us? Naturally!
thomas.Thanme, I meant. But you all seem flourishing.
laura.Because we lived longer. Papa, when did you die?
julia.Oh! Laura!
thomas.I don't know, child.
laura.Don't know? How don't you know?
thomas.Because in prisons, and other lunatic asylums, one isn't allowed to know anything.
mrs. r.A lunatic asylum! Oh, Thomas, what brought you there?
thomas.A damned life, Susan—with you, and others.
julia.Oh, Laura, why did you do this?
martha.If this goes on, I shall leave the room.
laura.Where are thoseothersnow?
thomas.Three of them I see before me. You, Laura, used to scream horribly. When you were teething, I was sleepless. Your Mother insisted on having you in the room with us. No wonder I went elsewhere.
martha.I'm going!
thomas.Don't, Martha! You were the quietest of the lot. When you were two years old I even began to like you. You were the exception.
laura.Haven't you any affection for your old home?
thomas.None. It was a prison. You were the gaolers and the turnkeys. To keep my feet in the domestic way you made me wool-work slippers, and I had to wear them. You gave me neckties, which I wouldn't wear. You gave me affection of a demanding kind, which I didn't want. You gave me a moral atmosphere which I detested. And at last I could bear it no more, and I escaped.
laura(deaf to instruction). Papa, we wish you and our dear Mother to come back and live with us.
thomas.Live with my grandmother! How could I live with any of you?
laura.Whereareyou living?
thomas.Ask no questions, and you will be told no lies.
laura.Where isshe?
thomas.Which she?
laura.The governess.
thomas.Which governess?
laura.The one you went away with.
thomas.D'you want her back again? You can have her. She'll teach you a thing or two. She didme.
laura.Then—you have repented, Papa?
thomas.God! why did I come here?
mrs. r.Yes; why did you come? It was weak of you.
thomas.Because I never could resist women.
laura.Were you really mad when you died, Papa?
thomas.Yes, and am still: stark, staring, raving, mad, like all the rest of you.
laura.I am not aware thatIam mad.
thomas.Then you are a bad case. Not to know it, is the worst sign of all. It's in the family: you can't help being. Everything you say and do proves it. . . . You were mad to come here. You are mad to remain here. You were mad to want to see me. I was mad to let you see me. I was mad at the mere sight of you; and I'm mad to be off again! Goodbye, Susan. If you send for me again, I shan't come!
(He puts on his hat with a flourish.)
laura.Where are you going, Father?
thomas.To Hell, child! Your Hell, my Heaven!
(He spreads his arms and rises up through the looking-glass; you see his violet frock-coat, his check trousers, his white spats, and patent-leather boots ascending into and passing from view. He twiddles his feet at them and vanishes.)
julia.And now I hope you are satisfied, Laura?
martha.Where's Mamma gone?
julia.So you've driven her away, too. Well, that finishes it.
(Apparently it does. Robbed of her parental prey, Mrs. James reverts to the next dearest possession she is concerned about.)
laura.Martha, where is the silver tea-pot?
martha.I don't know, Laura.
laura.You said Julia had it.
martha.I didn't say anything of the sort! You said—you supposed Julia had it; and I said—suppose she had! And I left it at that.
laura.Julia says she hasn't got it, so youmusthave it.
martha.I haven't!
laura.Then where is it?
martha.I don't know any more than Julia knows.
laura.Then one of you is not telling the truth. . . . (Very judicially she begins to examine the two culprits.) Julia, when did you last see it?
julia.On the day, Laura, when we shared things between us. It became Martha's: and I never saw it again.
laura.Martha, when did you last see it?
martha.I have not seen it—for I don't know how long.
laura.That is no answer to my question.
martha(vindictively). Well, if you want to know, it's at the bottom of the sea.
laura(deliberately). Don't talk—nonsense.
martha.Unless a shark has eaten it.
laura.When I ask a reasonable question, Martha, I expect a reasonable answer.
martha.I've given you a reasonable answer! And I wish the Judgment Day would come, and the sea give up its dead, and then—— (At the end of her resources, the poor lady begins to gather herself up, so as once for all to have done with it.) Now, I am going downstairs to talk to Hannah.
laura.You will do nothing of the kind, Martha.
martha.I'm not going to be bullied—not by you or anyone.
laura.I must request you to wait and hear what I've got to say.
martha.I don't want to hear it.
laura.Julia, are we not to discuss this matter, pray?
(Julia, who has her eye on Martha, and is quite enjoying this tussle of the two says nothing.)
martha.You and Julia can discuss it. I am going downstairs.
(Mrs. James crosses the room, locks the door, and, standing mistress of all she surveys, inquires with grim humour.)
laura.And where are you going to be, Julia?
julia.I am where I am, Laura. I'm not going out of the window, or up the chimney, if that's what you mean.
(She continues gracefully to do her crochet.)
laura.Now, Martha, if you please.
martha(goaded into victory). I'm sorry, Julia. You'd better explain. I'm going downstairs.
(Suiting the action to the word, she commits herself doggedly to the experiment, descending bluntly and without grace through the carpet into the room below. Mrs. James stands stupent.)
laura.Martha! . . . Am I to be defied in this way?
julia.You brought it on yourself, Laura.
laura.You told her to do it!
julia.She would have soon found out for herself. (Collectedly, she folds up her work and rises.) And now, I think, I will go to my room and wash my hands for supper.
(As she makes her stately move, her ear is attracted by a curious metallic sound repeated at intervals. Turning about, she perceives, indeed they both perceive, in the centre of the small table, a handsome silver tea-pot which opens and shuts its lid at them, as if trying to speak.)
julia.Oh, look, Laura! Martha's tea-pot has arrived.
laura.She told a lie, then.
julia.No, it was the truth. She wished for it. The sea has given up its dead.
laura.Then now Ihavegot it at last!
(But, as she goes to seize the disputed possession, Martha rises through the floor, grabs the tea-pot, and descends to the nether regions once more.)
laura(glaring at her sister with haggard eye). Julia, wherearewe?
julia.I don't know what you mean, Laura. (She reaches out a polite hand.) The key?
(Mrs. James delivers up the key as one glad to be rid of it.)
laura.What is this place we've come to?
julia(persuasively). Our home.
laura.I think we are in Hell!
julia(going to the door, which she unlocks with soft triumph). We are all where we wish to be, Laura. (A gong sounds.) That's supper. (The gong continues its metallic bumbling.)
(Julia departs, leaving Mrs. James in undisputed possession of the situation she has made for herself.)
Curtain