Lily.
Studying her nails.Whomto, mother.
Jimmie.
Why, isn’t it——?
Mrs. Upjohn.
No, it ain’t. It’s the Captain.
Jimmie.
T-t-the Cap—!ToLily.N-n-nicko?Lilynods.Jimmiedraws a deep breath.Oh-h-h-h!
Lily.
Calmly.Nicko turned up here early this morning—while Eddie—while Lord Farncombe was with me, in fact—and I—we—the three of us—we talked matters over, and—and——
Jimmie.
Her eyes starting out of her head.Was there a row?
Lily.
Oh, don’t be so curious, Jimmie. Poor Nicko has been after me for six years. A girl must play the game, if she’s at all decent and wishes to preserve a shred of self-respect.
Again there is a pause and thenJimmiesilently resumes her seat in the arm-chair.
Mrs. Upjohn.
Moistening her lips with her tongue—toJimmie.’Ow do you feel about it?
Jimmie.
Thoughtfully.How do I feel about it?ToLily.May I say?
Lily.
Coldly.Certainly.
Jimmie.
Rubbing the arm of her chair with the palm of her hand.Well, if I were on board a ship at this moment, I should be ringing for the stewardess; that’s how I feel about it.
Lily.
Throwing herself, face downward, at full length upon the settee.Oh! Oh, you’re just like the rest of our girls on the question of marriage! You—you—you’re detestable!
Jimmie.
Sliding out of her chair and kneeling at the settee and putting an arm roundLily.Oh, Lil—Lil——!
Lily.
Repulsing her.Yes, you are!Raising herself upon her elbow.You’d rejoice to see me draw this boy into my net, wouldn’t you! You know you would.Mrs. Upjohnrises and comes forward.I dare say you jolly well wouldn’t object to catching him yourself if you’d half a chance!Fiercely.You try it; you try it—you, or any of you!
Jimmie.
Attempting to rise, scandalised.Oh——!
Lily.
Holding her.No, no——! Jimmie——!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Lil, I’m perfec’ly ashamed of you, speakin’ to Jimmie Birch in that manner.
Lily.
Dropping her head onJimmie’sshoulder.Oh——!
Jimmie.
She doesn’t mean it.
Mrs. Upjohn.
I ’ope not. It ain’t exac’ly pleasant to ’ave a dog in the manger for a daughter.ToLily.Whyshouldn’tyoung Farncombe turn ’is attention to Miss Birch, pray, or to any young lady who doesn’t object to take your leavin’s!
Jimmie.
ToMrs. Upjohn.H’sh, h’sh, h’sh!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Walking about.No, I won’t ’ush!
Jimmie.
ToLily, quietly.I’ll come back in the afternoon.
Mrs. Upjohn.
Lil seems to ’ave got some maggot or other in ’er brain about drawin’ Lord Farncombe into ’ernet. Net indeed!Jimmie, not heedingMrs. Upjohn, arrangesLilycomfortably upon the settee and then rises and smoothes out her skirt preparatory to departure.As Lal Roper was sayin’ yesterday, our tiptop, aristocratic English fam’lies ought to be ’xtremely grateful that strong, ’ealthy perfeshunals o’ the class of Miss ’Arker an’ Miss Trevail an’ Miss Shafto are enterin’ their ranks. An’ if Lil chooses to be pig-’eaded enough——!Jimmiemakes a movement towardsMrs. Upjohn.’Ave a bottle o’ ginger beer before you go.There is a prolonged, playful knocking at the door on the left followed, on the part of those in the room, by a gloomy pause.ThatisLal.
Lily.
Groaning.Oh-h-h-h!
Jimmie.
Drawing a long face.H’m!
Lily.
ToJimmie.Oh, Jimmie—stay——!
The knocking is repeated.Jimmieretreats to the right asMrs. Upjohngoes to the door and opens it.Roperis outside.
Roper.
Entering, in high spirits.Hullo, hullo, hullo, hul-lo!EmbracingMrs. Upjohn.Morning, Ma!Advancing.Anymorebids for the handsome gilt candelabra with the crystal drops? Ha, ha, ha!ToJimmie.Morning, Jimmie!Looking down, uponLily, eagerly.Well, Lil! Well, my pet!
Lily.
In a weary tone, giving him the tips of her fingers and then turning upon her side with her face to the back of the settee.How are you, Uncle Lal?
Roper.
Chilled.Oh, I—thank you, Lil—After a short pause, toMrs. Upjohn—glancing atLily.Not up to much to-day?
Mrs. Upjohn.
Glumly.No great shakes.
Roper.
Dancing too hard, I ’spect.
Mrs. Upjohn.
A deal too ’ard.
Roper.
After another pause.Anything else amiss, Ma?
Mrs. Upjohn.
Sitting upon the box-ottoman—toJimmie, who is at the piano examining some of the music.Youtell Lal, Jimmie.
Roper.
T-t-tell—?ToJimmie, who comes to the settee—apprehensively.Jimmie——!
Jimmie.
Behind the settee, gravely.No, the old Pandora isn’t going to scorethistime, Lal.
Roper.
Isn’t going to—? I d-d-don’t follow you.
Mrs. Upjohn.
Be plain, Jimmie.
Jimmie.
Endeavouring to relieve the situation.Ha, ha! Nature’s taken precious good care of that, in my case.
Roper.
Angrily.Now, look here, Jimmie! A jest is a capital thing in its way. No man has a keener sense of humour than Lal Roper. But thereareoccasions when it’s out o’ place, and this is one of ’em, my dear; and if it’s not putting you to serious inconvenience——
Jimmie.
Also losing her temper.Oh, well, then, have it in the neck! Lil’s declined young Farncombe. There! And whenyoucrack a joke next, Mr. Roper, I beg you’ll contrive to favour us with a little variety;flouncing awaybecause you bore me pallid with your rotten wheezes, and always have done.
Roper.
Going toMrs. Upjohn, aghast at the tidings.Ma——!
Mrs. Upjohn.
ToRoper, under her breath.Won’t draw ’im into ’er net, Uncle.
Roper.
Won’t draw him into her——?
Jimmie.
At the back.K-n-e-double t—net!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Pacifically.Jimmie——!
Jimmie.
MimickingRoperderisively.Hullo, hullo, hullo, hul-lo! Fresh fish from the sea! Buy ’em on the beach; buy ’em on the beach; buy ’em on the beach!
Roper.
ToJimmie, indignantly.Jimmie Birch——!
Jimmie.
Sitting upon the fauteuil-stool.Ha, ha!
Roper.
ToMrs. Upjohn, wiping his brow.Of course, there isthisto be said, Ma.Rallying at the idea.It may be wise of dear Lil to decline Farncombeat first. It—it—it—it doesn’t do for a girl, does it, to appear to throw herself atanyman, let alone a young fellow of the position—the—the—the social status——!
Lily.
Suddenly sitting up and putting her feet to the floor again.Oh, for mercy’s sake, cease discussing my affairs in my presence!ToMrs. Upjohn.Mother, why do you keep Uncle Lal in the dark?ToJimmie.Jimmie, why don’tyou——?
Roper.
In the dark!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Yes, Lal; your flyin’ out at Jimmie over ’er ’armless joke stopped ’er finishin’.
Roper.
Finishing——?
Mrs. Upjohn.
Lil’s not on’y refused young Farncombe but she’s gone an’ plighted ’erself to another individual.
Roper.
Plighted herself——?
Lily.
Passionately.To one of the best! To one of the best!
Roper.
Stupefied.Do I—do I know him?
Jimmie.
Ha!
Lily.
Know him! You know him sufficiently to have plotted and schemed to prevent his being asked to the party last night.
Jimmie.
ToLily.Did Lal do that?
Lily.
Didhe!
Jimmie.
Impudence!
Roper.
Sitting in the arm-chair by the centre table—quietly.Jeyes!
Jimmie.
Nicko.
Lily.
Firmly.Nicko.
Mrs. Upjohn.
But the Captainwasat the party last night notwithstandin’.
Jimmie.
ToMrs. Upjohn.Nonsense, Ma!
Lily.
Yes, Nicko managed to get into the theatre somehow or other.
Jimmie.
ToLily.And watched you and young Farncombe——!
Lily.
And stationed himself under the portico of Twenty seven, to see who brought me home.
Jimmie.
Oh——!
Mrs. Upjohn.
’E’s always been frightfully jealous, the Captain ’as.
Jimmie.
Looking atRoper.Oh, soreallyit’s entirely owing to Lal Roper’s interference that matters were brought to a head this morning!
Lily.
Her eyes flashing.Entirely.
Mrs. Upjohn.
Joining in the attack uponRoper.Yes, if Lal ’ad been content to mind ’is own business——
Jimmie.
And hadn’t meddled——!
Mrs. Upjohn.
An’muddled——!
Jimmie.
Things might have gone on much the same as before.
Mrs. Upjohn.
An’ might ’ave ended different.
Lily.
Rising and walking away to the right.Ah, no, mother——!
Jimmie.
Rising and joiningLily.Certainly they might.
Mrs. Upjohn.
Rising.Any’ow I ’ope it’ll be a lesson to Lal——
Jimmie.
Doyou, Ma!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Moving over to the girls.Not to put ’is fingers into other people’s pies.
Jimmie.
ToMrs. Upjohn, with a withering glance atRoper.Oh, youaresanguine!
Roper.
Rising and straightening himself out.Ma—Mrs. Upjohn—Lily——
Jimmie.
Scornfully.Hullo, hullo, hullo, hul-lo——!
Roper.
ToJimmie.P’sh!Impressively.Ma—Lily—for years—longer than it’s agreeable to count—I’ve been a patron of the drama—particularly musical comedy, of which I’ve studied the development with especial interest.
Jimmie.
Resting her elbows upon the back of the settee.Yes, you’ve studied a lot of development, Lal, in your day.
Roper.
IgnoringJimmie.It’s been a fad with me; I put it no higher than that.Producing his gloves.But I’ve devoted time to it——
Jimmie.
Any amount.
Roper.
Drawing a glove on.Often to the neglect of my ventures in the City. Here I amnow, for instance.
Jimmie.
That’s obvious.
Roper.
And—I frankly admit it—I’ve had more than one serious dispute withMrs.Roper on the subject.Jimmiesoftly whistles a few bars of “Rule, Britannia.”Yesterday, by a coincidence—feeling the outside of his breast-pocketletter from the wife—full o’ complaints—haven’t been to Bexhill, to her and the kids, for weeks. And to do Ellen Roper justice, she’s not the woman to grumble without cause.Picking up his hat and cane which he has placed upon the centre table.Dash it all, home tiesarehome ties!Polishing his hat with his sleeve.And, taking one consideration with another—and after this—this occurrence—it’s my intention for the future—my firm intention——
Lily.
Running toRoperand throwing her arms around his neck.Oh, Uncle Lal, not altogether! We’re tired and cross this morning! Not altogether!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Behind the centre table.No, no, Uncle, you mustn’t——!
Lily.
ToRoper.Forgive us!Coaxingly.Mother and Jimmie are cats——!
Mrs. Upjohn and Jimmie.
Oh——!
The door on the left opens, andGladysenters with a card on a salver.
Gladys.
Advancing toLily.Are youin?
Lily.
In?
Gladys.
SurveyingLilywith mingled disdain and pity.Oh youdolook washed out!
Lily.
Going toGladys.Never you mind whether I look washed out or not. Who is it?
Lilytakes the card, reads some writing upon it, and stands twiddling the card in her fingers.
Gladys.
They’re in the dining-room.
Lily.
ToGladys, after a pause.W-wait outside—on the landing.
Gladys.
Oh, all right.Thiswon’t get my silver cleaned.
Gladyswithdraws.Lilywaits for the door to close and then walks about distractedly.
Lily.
Oh, why can’t they leave me alone! What do they want with me now, both of them!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Moving towardsLily.’Oo——?
Lily.
Nicko’s downstairs—with Lord Farncombe.
Mrs. Upjohn.
Lord Farncombe——!
Roper.
And Jeyes!
Lily.
Reading the card again.Nicko asks me to see him and the boy together.RoperandMrs. Upjohngo toLily, one on each side of her, and try to read thecard. She pushes them from her and sits in the arm-chair by the centre table.I won’t; I won’t.
Jimmie.
JoiningMrs. UpjohnandRoper.Yes, yes, Lil; do.
Mrs. Upjohn.
Bewildered.Wot——?
Jimmie.
Perhaps they’ve arrived at a friendly understanding——!
Roper.
Understanding?
Jimmie.
Excitedly.And have come to propose that Lil should choose between them!
Roper.
Great Scot——!
Lily.
Ihavechosen; Ihavechosen. It’s settled.
Roper.
Undoubtedlyshe ought to see them.
Lily.
It’s a shame to persecute me so—a shame!
Jimmie, Mrs. Upjohn, and Roper.
BehindLily’schair.Lil! Lily——!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Give ’em a minute, dear.
Roper.
Hear what they’ve got tosay.
Jimmie.
Itwouldbe uncivilnotto.
Lily.
Oh—! Oh——!
Jimmie.
Buck up, Lil!
Roper.
My pet!
Mrs. Upjohn.
’Ark to reason, dearie.
ToLily, urgently.
Jimmie, Mrs. Upjohn, and Roper.
Lil! Lily——!
Lily.
Yielding helplessly.Oh, very well——
Jimmie, Mrs. Upjohn, and Roper.
Ah——!
Lily.
Tell Gladys—when I ring——
Jimmie.
Flying to the door on the left.I’ll tell her.
Roper.
ToMrs. Upjohn, importantly.Lucky I was on the spot; lucky I was on the spot.
Jimmie.
On the landing, toGladys.Bring the gentlemen up when Miss Lily rings.
Lily.
Rising and pacing the room on the right.Give me some stockings!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Hurrying into the bedroom.Yes, dearie.As she disappears.Maud——!
Jimmie.
Returning and closing the door and then whispering toRoper.Bet my boots that’s it!
Roper.
ToJimmie, in a whisper.Choose between ’em!
Jimmie.
What else can it be?
Roper.
Ican’t——
Jimmie.
Throwing herself intoRoper’sarms.Oh, if itis!
Roper.
Hugging her.Oh——!
Jimmie.
Suddenly, releasing herself.Oh——!Haughtily.Thought you were Lily.
Mrs. Upjohnreturns, carrying a pair of stockings.Lilyseats herself upon the fauteuil-stool where, concealed by the centre table, she draws on the stockings withMrs. Upjohn’sassistance.
Lily.
Whimpering.Oh—! Oh——!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Don’t, dearie; don’t. Mother’s’ere.
Roper.
Impatiently.I—ah—I think I’ll run downstairs and shake hands with Jeyes and Farncombe while Lily’s tidying herself.
Jimmie.
Who has moved over to the right—toRoper.Be careful. I should advise you not to risk it.
Roper.
At the door.Risk it?
Jimmie.
If Nicko knows you were the cause of his beingshut out of the party last night, he’ll simply throttle you.
Roper.
Opening the door.Throttleme!Formidably.Throttle Lal Roper——!
He disappears, closing the door, asMaudenters from the bedroom with a pair of shoes.
Lily.
Weakly.Oh! Oh! Oh! Get me something to keep these up with.
Jimmie.
ToMaud.Ribbon——
Mrs. Upjohn.
Snatching the shoes fromMaud.Ribbon.
Maudopens one of the drawers underneath the further cupboard on the left and finds a roll of bright, new ribbon, whileJimmie, searching among the objects on the centre table, discovers the case of manicure instruments and takes from it a pair of scissors.
Lily.
Putting on her shoes—toMrs. Upjohn.No, no; that’s the left foot—oh——!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Don’t agitate yourself, dearie. Mother’s’ere.
Maudcomes to the centre table with the ribbon andJimmiecuts off two lengths from the roll.
Maud.
ToJimmie.Morning, Miss Jimmie!
Jimmie.
ToMaud.Morning!
Lily.
ToMrs. Upjohn.Where’s the mirror? Where’s the mirror?
Mrs. Upjohn.
Taking the mirror from the table and giving it toLily.’Ere it is, dearie; ’ere it is. An’I’m’ere too.
Lily.
Viewing herself in the mirror and running her hand over her hair.Oh, how horrid I look!Jimmiegoes toLilywith the two lengths of ribbon andMaudreplaces the roll in the drawer.Ring the bell.JimmiehandsLilythe garters, relieving her of the mirror, andMrs. Upjohnhastens to the fireplace and presses the bell-push continuously.That’ll do, Maud;youhook it.
Maud.
Going to the bedroom door.Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! That’s how I like to hear her talk. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Maudvanishes into the bedroom, closing the door, andLily, having tied up her stockings, rises and comes to the settee.
Mrs. Upjohn.
Still pressing the bell-push.NowI don’t believe I’ve rung.
Lily.
At the uttermost tension.Ah, stop it, mother; stop it!Sitting on the settee.We’re not calling the fire-brigade.
Jimmie.
At the back of the settee, toLily.I’ll wait in your bedroom till the men have been shown up, and sneak out that way.Bending overLily.Mind! If Nickoiswilling, after all, that you should make your choice——
Mrs. Upjohn.
Advancing.Yes, dearie, if ’eiswilling——
Lily.
Frantically.I tell you Ihavemade it. I keep on telling youI’ve chosen—I’ve chosen—I’ve chosen!Clenching her hands.If you torment me any more, either of you——!
Mrs. UpjohnandJimmieretreat precipitately to the bedroom door. They open the door and then, standing in the doorway, listen intently.
Jimmie.
Disappearing.Ah——!
Mrs. Upjohn.
Partially disappearing.Ah—!Only her headvisible, speaking toLilyin a hoarse whisper.Mother’s’ere, dearie.
The head is withdrawn and the door softly closed. After a pause,Gladysenters at the other door followed byJeyesandFarncombe. The men are carrying their hats and canes.Gladysretires, closing the door, andJeyescomes toLilyand shakes hands with her.
Jeyes.
ToLily, gently.How are you to-day, Lil? Very fagged?
Lily.
Almost inaudibly.Iama little.Jeyesturns from her, to lay his hat and cane upon the box-ottoman, and thenFarncombe, who has hung back, advances hesitatingly to the further side of the centre table and bows toLily. She rises and, avoiding his eyes, gives him a limp hand across the table.How d’ye do?ToJeyeswho, having got rid of his hat and cane, moves away from the ottoman.Sit down, won’t you?She resumes her seat upon the settee andJeyes, with a nod, sits in the arm-chair by the centre table.Farncomberemains standing and again she addresses him without meeting his eyes.And you?
Farncombe, with another bow, sits upon the fauteuil-stool. There is a brief silence and thenJeyesspeaks.
Jeyes.
Lil——
Lily.
Y-yes?
Jeyes.
In the first place, Farncombe wants you distinctly to understand how it is he’s committing this breach of his compact with you.ToFarncombe.You promised——?
Farncombe.
I promised never to attempt to come near Miss Parradell again, nor even to enter the theatre.
Jeyes.
ToLily.And if I’m any judge of a man, Lily, Farncombe would have kept his promise. He’d have kept it faithfully, but forme. I’ve brought him along—insisted on it.Emphatically.I’ve brought him along.See?
Lily.
W-w-why, Nicko?
Jeyes.
I’ll tell you, my dear. You remember, when we left you early this morning, ordering us to walk away together and to part good friends?
Lily.
P-perfectly.
Jeyes.
Well, we did walk away together, and we did part good friends. But we didn’t part at all till some hours later, in his rooms. We didn’t part till I’d madehim stand by me and listen to me while I had a long jaw with my brother on the ’phone.
Lily.
Wonderingly.With—your——?
Jeyes.
About that Rhodesian business.
Lily.
What Rhodesian business?
Jeyes.
I mentioned it to you yesterday. Bob owns a third, with Peter Chalmers and Tom Dalby, of a group of farms near Bulawayo, and he’s been badgering me eternally to cut this and to settle out there as their agent.Simply.And I’ve accepted, old girl.
Lily.
With a blank face.Ac-cepted?
Jeyes.
Grimly.Leaving you to bring an action against me, to recover damages for a broken heart.Drawing a deep breath.Yes, I’m chucking you, Lil. I give you formal notice of my intention; and you can drive down to your solicitors this afternoon and instruct them to writ me without delay.Forcing a laugh.Ha, ha, ha!
Lily.
Faintly.Nicko——!