ACT II

[Dorothygives a sharp inspiration of triumph. She looks again atNorah,butNorahgives no sign of emotion.]

Wickham.

And Miss Marsh?

Wynne.

Miss Marsh is not mentioned.

Norah.

[With a faint smile.] I could hardly expect to be. At the time the will was drawn I had been Miss Wickham’s companion for only a few months.

Wynne.

That is why I asked whether you knew of any later will. When I talked to Miss Wickham on the subject she said her wish was to make adequate provision for you after her death. I think she had spoken to you about it.

Norah.

Yes.

Wynne.

She mentioned three hundred a year.

Norah.

That was very kind of her. I’m glad she wished to do something for me.

Wynne.

Oddly enough she spoke about it to Dr. Evans only a few days before she died.

Wickham.

Perhaps thereisa later will somewhere?

Wynne.

I honestly don’t think so.

Norah.

I’m sure there isn’t.

Wynne.

Dr. Evans was talking to Miss Wickham about Miss Marsh. She was tired out and he wanted Miss Wickham to have a professional nurse. She told him then that I had the will and she had left Miss Marsh amply provided for.

Dorothy.

[Quickly.] That isn’t legal, of course?

Wynne.

What isn’t?

Dorothy.

I mean, no one could force us—I mean, the will stands as it is, doesn’t it?

Wynne.

Certainly.

Wickham.

I’m afraid it’s a great disappointment to you, Miss Marsh.

Norah.

[Lightly.] I never count my chickens before they’re hatched.

Wynne.

It would be very natural if Miss Marsh were disappointed under the circumstances. I think she’d been led to expect....

Dorothy.

[Interrupting.] Our aunt left a very small fortune, I understand, and I suppose she felt it wouldn’t be fair to leave a large part of it away from her own family.

Wickham.

Of course, it is family money; she inherited it from my grandfather, and ... but I want you to know, Miss Marsh, that my wife and I thoroughly appreciate all you did for my aunt. Money couldn’t repay your care and devotion. You’ve been perfectly wonderful.

Norah.

It’s extremely good of you to say so. I was very fond of Miss Wickham. Nothing I did for her was any trouble.

Wynne.

I think everyone who saw Miss Marsh with Miss Wickham must be aware that during the ten years she was with her she never spared herself.

Wickham.

[Hesitatingly, with a glance at his wife.] Of course, my aunt was a very trying woman.

Dorothy.

[Agreeably.] Earning one’s living is always unpleasant. If it weren’t there’d be no incentive to work.

[Norahgives her a glance of quiet amusement at this surprising remark.]

Wickham.

My wife and I would be very glad to make some kind of acknowledgment of your services.

Dorothy.

I was just going to mention it.

Wynne.

[Brightening a little.] I felt sure that under the circumstances....

Dorothy.

[Interrupting him quickly.] What were your wages, Miss Marsh?

Norah.

Thirty pounds a year.

Dorothy.

Really? Many ladies are glad to go as companion without any salary, just for the sake of a home and congenial society. I daresay you’ve been able to save a good deal in all these years.

Norah.

[Frigidly.] I had to dress myself decently, Mrs. Wickham.

Dorothy.

[With all the charm she can put into her manner.] Well, I’m sure my husband will be very glad to give you a year’s salary, won’t you, Jim?

Norah.

It’s very kind of you, but I’m not inclined to accept anything but what’s legally due to me.

Dorothy.

[Undisturbed.] You must remember that there’ll be very heavy death duties to pay. They’ll swallow up the income from Miss Wickham’s estate for at least two years, won’t they, Mr. Wynne?

Norah.

I quite understand.

Dorothy.

Perhaps you’ll change your mind.

Norah.

I don’t think so.

[There is a slight, rather awkward pause.Mr. Wynnegets up. His manner shows that he is not impressed byMrs. Wickham’sgenerosity.]

Wynne.

Well, I think I must leave you.

Wickham.

We must go, too, Dorothy.

Dorothy.

[Quite at ease.] Oh, it’ll only take five minutes to get down to the station in a cab.

Wynne.

Good-bye, Miss Marsh. If I can be of any help to you I hope you’ll let me know.

Norah.

That’s very kind of you.

Wynne.

[ToDorothy.] Good-bye.

[He bows slightly to her, nods toWickhamand duringDorothy’snext speech goes out.]

Dorothy.

[Very friendly and affable.] Jim will be writing to you in a day or two. You know how grateful we both are for all you did for our poor aunt. We shall be glad to give you the very highest references.

Wickham.

[Relieved to be able to offer something.] Oh, yes, we’ll do everything we can.

Dorothy.

You’re such a wonderful nurse, I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty in getting another situation. I expect I can find you something myself. I’ll ask among all my friends.

[Norahlooks at her reflectively, but does not answer.Dorothybeams and smiles at her.]

Wickham.

Come on, Dorothy, we really haven’t got any time to lose. Good-bye, Miss Marsh.

Norah.

Good-bye.

[They bustle out and in a moment the sound is heard of wheels on the drive as the cab carries them away.Norahis left alone. She stands staring in front of her. She does not hearMiss Pringlecome in from the garden.]

Miss Pringle.

I thought they were never going. Well?

[Norahturns and looks at her without a word.

[Miss Pringleis startled.] Norah! What’s the matter? Isn’t it as much as you thought?

Norah.

Miss Wickham’s left me nothing.

Miss Pringle.

Oh!

Norah.

Not a penny! Oh, it’s cruel. After all, there was no need for her to leave me anything. She gave me board and lodging and thirty pounds a year. If I stayed it was because I chose. She needn’t have promised me anything. She needn’t have prevented me from marrying.

Miss Pringle.

My dear, you could never have married the little assistant. He wasn’t a gentleman.

Norah.

Ten years! The ten best years of a woman’s life, when other girls are enjoying themselves. And what did I get for it? Board and lodging and thirty pounds a year. A cook does better than that.

Miss Pringle.

We can’t expect to make so much money as a good cook. One has to pay something for living like a lady among people of one’s own class.

Norah.

Oh, it’s cruel.

Miss Pringle.

[Trying to console her.] My dear, don’t give way. I’m sure you’ll have no difficulty in finding another situation. You wash lace beautifully, and no one can arrange flowers like you.

Norah.

I was dreaming of France and Italy.... I shall spend ten years more with an old lady, and then she’ll die, and I shall look out for another situation. It won’t be so easy then because I shan’t be so young. And so it’ll go on till I can’t find a situation because I’m too old, and some charitable people will get me into a home. You like the life, don’t you?

Miss Pringle.

My dear, there are so few things a gentlewoman can do.

Norah.

When I think of these ten years! Having to put up with every unreasonableness! Never being allowed to feel ill or tired! No servant would have stood what I have. The humiliation I’ve endured!

Miss Pringle.

You’re tired and out of sorts. Everyone isn’t so trying as Miss Wickham. I’m sure Mrs. Hubbard has been kindness itself to me.

Norah.

Considering.

Miss Pringle.

I don’t know what you mean by considering.

Norah.

Considering that she’s rich and you’re poor. She gives you her old clothes. She often doesn’t ask you to have dinner by yourself when she’s giving a party. She doesn’t remind you that you’re dependent unless she’s very much put out. But you—you’ve hadthirty years of it. You’ve eaten the bitter bread of slavery till—till it tastes like plum cake.

Miss Pringle.

[Rather hurt.] I don’t know why you say such things to me, Norah.

[BeforeNorahhas time to answerKatecomes in.]

Kate.

Mr. Hornby would like to see you for a minute, Miss.

Norah.

[Surprised.] Now?

Kate.

I told him I didn’t think it would be convenient, Miss, but he says it’s very important, and he won’t detain you more than five minutes.

Norah.

What a nuisance.... Ask him to come in.

Kate.

Very good, Miss. [Exit.]

Norah.

I wonder what on earth he wants.

Miss Pringle.

Who is he, Norah?

Norah.

Oh, he’s the son of Colonel Hornby. Don’t you know, he lives at the top of Molyneux Park. His mother was a great friend of Miss Wickham’s. Hecomes down here now and then for week-ends. He’s got something to do with motor-cars.

[Kateshows the visitor in.]

Kate.

Mr. Hornby.

[She goes out.Reginald Hornbyis a good-looking young man, with a neat head on a long, elegant body. His dark, sleek hair is carefully brushed, his small moustache is trim and curled. His beautiful clothes suggest the fashionable tailors of Savile Row. His tie, his handkerchief protruding from the breast pocket, his boots, are the very latest thing. He is a nut.]

Hornby.

I say, I’m awfully sorry to blow in like this. But I didn’t know if you’d be staying on here, and I wanted to catch you. And I’m off in a day or two, myself.

Norah.

Won’t you sit down? Mr. Hornby—Miss Pringle.

Hornby.

How d’you do? Everything go off O.K.?

Norah.

I beg your pardon?

Hornby.

Funeral, I mean. Mother went. Regular beano for her.

[Miss Pringle,rather shocked, draws herself up primly, butNorah’seyes twinkle with amusement at his airy manner.]

Norah.

Really?

Hornby.

You see, she’s getting on. I’m the child of her old age—Benjamin, don’t you know. [He turns toMiss Pringle.] Benjamin and Sarah, you know.

Miss Pringle.

I understand perfectly, but it wasn’t Sarah.

Hornby.

Wasn’t it? When one of her old friends dies, mother goes to the funeral and says to herself: “Well, I’ve seen her out, anyhow.” Then she comes back and eats muffins for tea. She always eats muffins after she’s been to a funeral.

Norah.

The maid said you wanted to see about something.

Hornby.

That’s right, I was forgetting. [ToMiss Pringle.] If Sarah wasn’t Benjamin’s mother, whose mother was she?

Miss Pringle.

If you want to know, I recommend you to read your Bible.

Hornby.

[With much satisfaction.] I thought it was a stumper. [ToNorah.] The fact is, I’m going to Canada, and mother told me you’d got a brother or something out there.

Norah.

A brother, not a something.

Hornby.

And she said, perhaps you wouldn’t mind giving me a letter to him.

Norah.

I will with pleasure. But I’m afraid he won’t be much use to you. He’s a farmer and he lives miles away from anywhere.

Hornby.

But I’m going in for farming.

Norah.

Are you? What on earth for?

Hornby.

I’ve jolly well got to do something, and I think farming’s about the best thing I can do. One gets a lot of shooting and riding, you know. And then there are tennis parties and dances. And you make a pot of money, there’s no doubt about that.

Norah.

I thought you were in some motor business in London.

Hornby.

Well, I was in a way. But ... I thought you’d have heard about it. Mother’s been telling everybody. Governor won’t speak to me. Altogether things are rotten. I want to get out of this beastly country as quick as I can.

Norah.

Would you like me to give you the letter at once?

Hornby.

I wish you would.

[Norahsits down at an escritoire and begins to write a letter.]

Fact is, I’m broke. I was all right as long as I stuck to bridge. I used to make money on that. Over a thousand a year.

Miss Pringle.

[Horrified.] What!

Hornby.

Playing regularly, you know. If I hadn’t been a fool I’d have stuck to that. But I got bitten withchemi.

Norah.

[Turning round.] With what?

Hornby.

Chemin de fer.Never heard of it? I got in the habit of going to Thornton’s. I suppose you never heard of him either. He keeps a gambling hell. Gives you a slap-up supper for nothing, as much pop as you can drink, and changes your cheques like a bird. The result is I’ve lost every bob I had, and then Thornton sued me on a cheque I’d given him. The Governor forked out, but he says I’ve got to go to Canada. I’m never going to gamble again, I can tell you that.

Norah.

Oh, well, that’s something.

Hornby.

You can’t make money atchemi. Thecagnotte’sbound to clear you out in the end. When I comeback I’m going to stick to bridge. There are always plenty of mugs about, and if you’ve got a good head for cards you can’t help making an income out of it.

Norah.

Here is your letter.

Hornby.

Thanks awfully. I daresay I shan’t want it, you know. I expect I shall get offered a job the moment I land, but there’s no harm having it. I’ll be getting along.

Norah.

Good-bye, then, and good luck.

Hornby.

Good-bye.

[He shakes hands withNorahandMiss Pringleand goes out.]

Miss Pringle.

Norah, why don’tyougo to Canada? Now your brother has a farm of his own I should have thought....

Norah.

[Interrupting.] My brother’s married. He married four years ago.

Miss Pringle.

You never told me.

Norah.

I couldn’t.

Miss Pringle.

Why? Isn’t his wife ... isn’t his wife nice?

Norah.

She was a waitress at a scrubby little hotel in Winnipeg.

Miss Pringle.

What are you going to do, then?

Norah.

It’s no good crying over spilt milk. I’ll look out for another situation.

END OF FIRST ACT

Scene:The living-room and kitchen onEdward Marsh’sfarm at Dyer, Manitoba. It is a room lined with brown planks, and on the walls in cheap gilt frames are coloured supplements from the Christmas numbers of illustrated papers. Over one door is the head of a moose, and over the other a large kitchen clock. The floor is covered with shiny oil-cloth. In the window are geraniums growing in maple-syrup tins. On one side is a large American stove. There is a dresser of unvarnished deal on which are plates and cups and saucers. They are of the plainest earthenware, and few of them match. There are two American rockers and a number of kitchen chairs. There is a plain kitchen table. On the stove is an enormous kettle and a couple of saucepans. There is a small bookshelf on which are a few tattered novels and some old magazines. The table is set for dinner with a cheap white cloth, none too clean.Ed Marshis sitting at one end, with the remains of a joint of cold beef in front of him, and at the other end is his wife, with a teapot, milk-jug, and sugar-basin. There is a loaf of bread on the table, a large tin containing maple-syrup, and the remains of a milk pudding.Norahis sitting next to her sister-in-law and beside her isReginald Hornby.Opposite areFrank TaylorandBenjamin Trotter.Dinner is just finished.Gertie Marshis a dark little person, with a hard look and a dried-up skin. She is thin and nervous, an active, hard-working woman with a sharptongue and, outwardly at least, little tenderness. She is dressed in a shirt-waist, a serge skirt, and brown, rather smart high-heeled shoes. She wears a small apron.Norahwears a white blouse and a green skirt.Ed Marshis a good-natured, easy-going man, with a small moustache and untidy hair. He wears a black flannel shirt, with white lines on it, a black waistcoat, and dark grubby trousers. The others are hired men.Frank Tayloris a tall fellow, strong, with clean-cut features and frank, humorous eyes. He is clean shaven. His movements are slow and he speaks with a marked accent. He is very sure of himself. He wears a dark flannel shirt and a pair of overalls, which have been blue, but are now black and grimy with age. The braces which hold them up announce that they come from Eaton’s, Winnipeg.Ben Trotteris an English labourer, with broken, discoloured teeth, and hair cut very short, with something like a love-lock plastered on his forehead. He is dressed in the same way asFrank Taylor.Reggie Hornby’shead is still neat and trim, his hair is carefully brushed. His overalls are much newer than the others’. He wears a flannel shirt which was obviously made in Piccadilly.

Marsh.

Have some more syrup, Reg?

Hornby.

No, thank you.

Marsh.

Has everyone finished?

Gertie.

It looks like it.

[Marshpushes back his chair, takes a pouch and pipe from his pocket and lights up.Taylordoes the same.]

Gertie.

We’ll be able to start on the ironing this afternoon.

Norah.

Very well.

Trotter.

It was a rare big wash you done this morning by the look of it on the line.

Norah.

My arms are just aching.

Gertie.

When you’ve been out in this country a bit longer you’ll learn not to wear more things than you can help.

Norah.

Was there more than my fair share?

Gertie.

You use double the number of stockings than what I do. And everything else is the same.

Norah.

[With a smile.] Clean but incompetent.

Gertie.

There’s many a true word spoken in jest.

Taylor.

Say, Reg, is it true that when you first come out you asked Ed where the bath-room was?

Trotter.

[With a chuckle.] That’s right. Ed told ’im there was a river a mile and a ’alf from ’ere, an’ that was the only bath-room ’e knew.

Marsh.

One soon gets used to that sort of thing, eh, Reg?

Hornby.

Rather. If I saw a bath-room now it would only make me nervous.

Taylor.

Out in B.C. I knew a couple of Englishmen who were baching and the only other people around were Indians. The first two years they was there they wouldn’t have anything to do with the Indians because they was so dirty, and after that the Indians wouldn’t have anything to do with them. [He puts his fingers to his nose to indicate a nasty smell.]

Norah.

What a disgusting story!

Taylor.

D’you think so? I rather like it.

Norah.

You would.

[He looks at her with a little smile, but does not answer.]

Gertie.

[Getting up.] Are you going to sit there all day, Norah?

Marsh.

Why don’t you keep quiet for five minutes? I guess Norah’s not sorry to have a rest after that wash.

Gertie.

The amount of work Norah did isn’t going to tire her much, I reckon.

Norah.

I’m not used to that sort of work yet. It takes it out of me a bit.

Gertie.

I’ve not found out what sort of work you are used to.

[Norahgets up and the two women start clearing away the table.Marshmoves into one of the rocking-chairs and smokes.]

Marsh.

Give her time to get used to the life, Gertie. You can’t expect everything all at once.

Gertie.

It’s always the same with English people. You have to teach them everything.

Marsh.

Well, you didn’t have to teach me to propose, Gertie.

[Norahtakes away things from beforeTaylorand he gets up.]

Taylor.

I guess I’m in your way.

Norah.

Not more than usual, thank you.

Taylor.

[Smiling.] I guess you’ll not be sorry to see the last of me.

Norah.

I can’t honestly say that it makes the least difference to me whether you go or stay.

Marsh.

Now don’t start quarrelling, you two.

Hornby.

When does your train go, Frank?

Taylor.

Half-past three. I’ll be starting from here in about an hour.

Marsh.

Reg can go over with you and he’ll drive the rig back again.

Taylor.

All right. I’ll go and dress myself in a bit.

Gertie.

I guess you’ll be glad to get back to your own place.

Taylor.

I guess I shan’t be sorry.

[The clearing away is finished.Gertiegets a large metal basin and puts it on the table.Norahfetches the kettle and pours hot water into the basin. They begin washing up.]

Gertie.

I’ll do the washing, Norah, and you can dry.

Norah.

All right.

Gertie.

I’ve noticed the things aren’t half clean when I leave them to you to do.

Norah.

I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?

Gertie.

I supposeyounever did the washing up in England. Too grand?

Norah.

I don’t suppose anyone would wash up if they could help it. It’s not very amusing.

Gertie.

You always want to be amused.

Norah.

No. But I want to be happy.

Gertie.

Well, you’ve got a room over your head and a comfortable bed to sleep in, three good meals a day, and plenty to do; that’s all anybody wants to make them happy, I guess.

Hornby.

Oh, lord!

Gertie.

[Turning sharply on him.] Well, if you don’t like Canada, why did you come out?

Hornby.

[Rising slowly to his feet.] You don’t suppose I’d have let them send me if I’d known what I was in for? Not much. Up at five in the morning and working in the fields like a navvy till your back feels as if it ’ud break, and then back again in the afternoon. And the same thing day after day. What was the good of sending me to Harrow and Oxford if that’s what I’ve got to do all my life?

Marsh.

You’ll get used to it soon enough, Reg. It’s a bit hard at first, but when you get your foot in you wouldn’t change it for any other life.

Gertie.

This isn’t a country for a man to go to sleep with and wait for something to turn up.

Trotter.

I wouldn’t go back to England now, not for nothing. England! Eighteen bob a week, that’s what I earned, and no prospects. Out of work five months in the year.

Norah.

What did you do in England?

Trotter.

Bricklayer, Miss.

Gertie.

You needn’t call her miss. Norah’s her name. You call me Gertie, don’t you?

Trotter.

What with strikes an’ bad times you never knew where you was. And the foreman bullying you. I don’t know what all. I ’ad about enough of it, I can tell you. I’ve never been out of work since the day I landed. I’ve had as much to eat as I wanted and I’m saving money. In this country everybody’s as good as everybody else.

Norah.

If not better.

Trotter.

In two years I shall be able to set up for myself. Why, there’s old man Thompson, up at Pratt, he started as a bricklayer, come from Yorkshire, he did. He’s got seven thousand dollars in the bank now.

Marsh.

You fellows who come out now have a much softer thing on than I did when I first came. In those days they wouldn’t have an Englishman, they’d have a Galician rather. In Winnipeg, when they advertised in the paper for labour, you’d see often as not no English need apply.

Gertie.

Well, it was their own fault. They wouldn’t work or anything. They just soaked.

Marsh.

It was their own fault right enough. This was the dumping ground for all the idlers, drunkards, and scallywags in England. They had the delusion over there that if a man was too big a rotter to do anything at all in England he’d only got to be sent out here and he’d make a fortune.

Taylor.

I guess things ain’t as bad as that now. They send us a different class. It takes an Englishman two years longer than anybody else to get the hang of things, but when once he tumbles to it he’s better than any of them.

Marsh.

I guess nowadays everyone’s glad to see the Englishman make good. When I nearly smashed up three years ago, I had no end of offers to help.

Hornby.

How did you smash up?

Marsh.

Oh, I had a run of bad luck. One year my crop was frosted and then next year I was hailed out. It wants a good deal of capital to stand up against that.

Taylor.

That’s what happened to me. I was hailed out, and I hadn’t got capital, so I just had to hire out. [ToNorah.] If it hadn’t been for that hailstorm you wouldn’t have had the pleasure of making my acquaintance.

Norah.

[Ironically.] How hollow and empty life would have been without that.

Gertie.

I wonder you didn’t just quit and start out Calgary way.

Taylor.

Well, I’d put in two years on my homestead and done a lot of clearing. It seemed kind of silly to lose my rights now. And when you’ve been hailed out once the chances are it won’t happen again, for some years that is, and by that time I ought to have put a bit by.

Norah.

What sort of a house have you got?

Taylor.

Well, it ain’t what you might call a palace, but it’s large enough for two.

Marsh.

Thinking of marrying?

Taylor.

Well, I guess it’s kind of lonesome on a farm without a woman. But it’s not so easy to find a wife when you’re just starting on your own. Canadian girls think twice before taking a farmer.

Gertie.

They know something, I guess.

Marsh.

Well, you took one, Gertie.

Gertie.

Not because I wanted to, you can be sure of that. I don’t know how you got round me.

Marsh.

I wonder.

Gertie.

I guess it was because you was kind of helpless, and I didn’t know what you’d do without me.

Marsh.

I guess it was love and you couldn’t help yourself.

Taylor.

I’m thinking of going to one of them employment agencies when I get to Winnipeg and looking the girls over.

Norah.

Like sheep.

Taylor.

I don’t know anythin’ about sheep. I’ve never had to do with sheep.

Norah.

And d’you think you know anything about women?

Taylor.

I guess I can tell if they’re strong and willing. And so long as they ain’t cock-eyed I don’t mind taking the rest on trust.

Norah.

And what inducement is there for a girl to have you?

Trotter.

That’s why he wants to catch ’em young, when they’ve just landed and don’t know much.

Taylor.

I’ve got my quarter section—a hundred and sixty acres, with seventy of it cleared—and I’ve got a shack that I built myself. That’s something, ain’t it?

Norah.

You’ve got a home to offer and enough to eat and drink. A girl can get that anywhere. Why, they’re simply begging for service.

Taylor.

Some girls like getting married. There’s something in the word that appeals to them.

Norah.

You seem to think a girl would jump at the chance of marrying you.

Taylor.

She might do worse.

Norah.

I think you flatter yourself.

Taylor.

I know my job and there ain’t too many as can say that. I’ve got brains.

Norah.

What makes you think so?

Taylor.

Well, I can see you’re no fool.

Gertie.

[With a chuckle.] He put one over on you then, Norah.

Taylor.

[Good-humouredly.] Because you’ve got no use for me, there’s no saying but what others may have.

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