Why?
What else is there to talk about—in Brendon?
That’s true. Isn’t it...(stops himself, looks at watch. Whistles.)Whew! [Rises.
What is it, Monty?
I say, Janet, I wonder if you’d mind going now?
Why?
[She rises too.
(awkwardly)
Well, the fact is I’m expecting some one here directly. I...
Bertha?
Yes. I was to meet her here at the stile at six.
Ourstile, Monty.
Yes,... You don’t mind, do you—about my asking you to go, I mean?
(sitting again)
Not in the least.
But you’re not going?
Why should I go?
Oh, well, I thought——-
That it wouldn’t be quite suitable for us to meet?
I didn’t mean that, of course. But I thought you mightn’t like—I mean it might be painful...
[Sits again.
For me to see her? On the contrary, I’m dying to see her.
Janet, sometimes I think you’re not quite human.
My dear boy, I’m extremely human—and therefore curious(pause). What’s she like, Monty? Now, I mean. She promised to be pretty.
She is pretty, I suppose(pause). I wonder if Bertha and I will ever have a son like Johnny!
Let’s hope so, Monty. For Bertha’s sake.
Isn’t that some one coming?(pause, listens), I expect it’s she(rising hastily and advancing towards stile). Is that you, Bertha?
(at stile)
Oh! There you are. Yes. Isn’t it hot?(entering by gate which he opens for her). Am I punctual?(with a cry)Janet! When did you come home?
[Goes to her eagerly.
(shaking hands)
Only three days ago.
[Bertha kisses her.
Onlythree days! And you’ve never been up to see us.
I know. But with father ill
Of course. I understand. I was only joking. How is Mr. De Mullin?
Much better. Not well yet, of course. But he gets stronger every day.
I’m so glad. I say, Janet, do you remember when you used to teach us French?
Yes.
I was awfully troublesome, I remember.
I expect you were an awful duffer at it too, Bertha.
What cheek!
Wasn’t she, Ja—(pulls himself up)Miss De Mullin?
[Janet smiles nervously.
Oh, yes.
I didn’t know you’d met Janet, Monty? Why didn’t you tell us?
[Quite unsuspicious of anything wrong. Merely curious.
It was some time ago.
(surprised)
Not at Brendon? You’ve never been at Brendon before.
No. It was at Weymouth. I was there getting over typhoid years ago.
I remember, you told me. Eight or nine years ago, wasn’t it?
Yes(looks at watch). I say, Bertha, we must be off if we’re not to be late.
Give me two minutes to rest. The weather’s simply stifling.
Rot! It’s quite cool.
Then you must have been sitting here a long time. I’ve been walking along a dusty road and I’m not going to start yet. Besides I want to know all about you two meeting. Were you staying at Weymouth, Janet?
Oh no. I just bicycled over. Mr. Bulstead ran into me.
I like that. She ran intome.
Anyhow my front wheel buckled and he had to help me to put it right.
What gallantry!
It was. The beastly thing took about half an hour. By the time it was over we seemed to have known each other for a lifetime(looks at watch). Two minutes is up. Time to start, Bertha.
It isn’t.
It is. You’ll be late for dressing to a certainty if you don’t go.
I like that. I can dress as quickly as you if it comes to that.
Oh no. I can dress in ten minutes. I’ll give you a quarter of an hour’s start and be down in the drawing-room five minutes before you’re ready. Is it a bet?
Done. In sixpences.(To Janet)I’m staying at the Park for a few days longer, Janet. Come up and see me, won’t you?
(uncomfortably)
I’m afraid I can’t promise. On account of father.
Well, after I’ve gone home then. Mother will want to see you. And so will Helen. And now I suppose I really must go. Come along, Monty.
Not I. I needn’t go for a quarter of an hour. You have a quarter of an hour’s start.
All right. Good-bye, Janet(kisses her). You won’t forget about coming as soon as you can? I go back home on Thursday.
I won’t forget. Good-bye. [Bertha goes off through the wood. Janet watches her go and there is a pause.) Yes, sheispretty, Monty. Very pretty.
(nods)
You don’t mind?
Her being pretty? Of course not. It’s a justification.
A justification?
For forgetting me
(impulsively, seizing her hands)
Janet, I’ve never done that. You know I haven’t.
(drawing back)
No, Monty. Not again. [Pause.
I say, I as nearly as possible called you Janet right out before Bertha.
So I saw. Youdidcall me Miss De Mullin, by the way,—which wasn’t very clever of you.
Did I? What an ass I am! But I don’t suppose she noticed.
I dare say not.(A shrill cry comes from the wood on the right. Then silence. Janet starts up.)What was that?
I don’t know.
It sounded like a child. Where did it come from? Over here, didn’t it?
I think so.
(alarmed)
I hope Johnny... I must go and see...(A moment later Johnny runs in, sobbing, followed by Mrs. De Mullin and Bertha.)Johnny! What is it, my sweetheart?
[Runs to him.
Oh, Mummie, Mummie, I was running after the rabbits and I tripped over some nettles and they stung me.
He put his foot in a hole, Janet. He fell just as I met Bertha(shakes hands with Monty). How do you do Mr. Bulstead.
There! There! my pet. Did it hurt very much? Mother shall kiss it and make it well.
JOHNNY (sobs)
Oh-h-h—- [Does so.
Is he your son?
Yes. Don’t cry any more, dear. Brave boys don’t cry, you know.
(gasps)
It h-hurts so.
I know. But crying won’t make it hurt less, will it? So you must dry your eyes. Come now.
All right, Mummie.
[Stills sobs gradually.
(astonished)
I’d no idea you were married, Janet.
Hadn’t you?
No. When was it?
Eight years ago. Nearly nine. To Mr. Seagrave.
Is he down here with you?
No. My husband died soon after our marriage.
Poor Janet. I’m so sorry(pause). And it was before your marriage that Monty met you?
How do you know?
(quite unsuspicious)
He called you Miss De Mullin.
Of course.
(pricking up her ears suspiciously at this.)
I didn’t know you had met my daughter before, Mr. Bulstead.
Nor did I. They met down at Weymouth quite by chance eight or nine years ago.
(gravely)
Indeed?
Yes... I say, Bertha, excuse my interrupting you. but we really must be off now if we’re not to be late.
You want to win that bet!
The bet’s off. There’s no time to give you any start. I must come too or I shan’t be in time myself and the Governor will simply curse.
Is Mr. Bulsteadveryfierce if people are late for dinner?
Simply beastly.
How very unpleasant! I wonder if I’m wise to marry into the family?
[Shaking hands merrily with Mrs. DeMullin and Janet. Then goes off r., laughing merrily.
(sardonically)
I wonder(shakes hands with Mrs. De Mullin and Janet). Will you give me a kiss, old chap?
[To Johnny.
That’s three times.
[Monty nods.
[Monty follows Bertha off r. A long pause. Mrs. De Mullin looks fixedly at Janet. Janet looks at the ground.
(slowly)
Mr. Montague Bulstead seems unusually fond of children, Janet.
Does he, mother?
[She does not look up.
Yes. Johnny is rather old to be kissed by strangers.
I supposed he kissed him because he was brave about being stung.
He seems to have kissed him before. Twice.
I dare say. I didn’t notice.
Johnny did, apparently.
Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, does it?(Looks up defiantly. Meets her mother’s eyes full on her)Why do you look at me like that, mother?
Send Johnny away for a little, Janet. I want to speak to you.
I’d rather not, mother. He might hurt himself again.
He will be quite safe. Run away, Johnny. But don’t go too far.
All right, grandmother.
[Johnny trots off into the wood. Pause.
(defiantly)
Well, mother?
Janet, why did you never tell us you had met Mr. Bulstead before?
When?
Any time during the last three days, when we were speaking of his engagement.
I’d forgotten all about it, mother.
Indeed? And why didn’t you tell us eight years ago, when you met him at Weymouth, when you were still “Miss De Mullin”?
Mother, don’t badger me like this. If you want to ask me anything ask it.
Janet, Mr. Bulstead is Johnny’s father.
Mr. Bulstead? Absurd!
Then why did you pretend not to have met him? Why did you conceal the fact of your meeting him from us eight years ago? And why has he concealed the fact from Bertha and the Bulsteads?
[Pause.
(resignedly)
Very well, mother, if you’re determined to know you must know. Yes, he’s Johnny’s father.
Oh, Janet!
(irritably)
Well, mother, if you didn’t want to know you shouldn’t have asked. I told you not to worry me.(Mrs. De Mullin begins to cry. Remorsefully,)
There, there, mother! Don’t cry. I’m sorry I was cross to you. Don’t let’s talk any more about it.
(snuffling)
No, Janet, wemusttalk about it. There’s no use trying to hide things any longer. You must tell me the truth.
Much better not, mother. It won’t give you any pleasure to hear.
Still, I’d rather know, Janet.
(shrugs)
As you please. What do you want me to tell you? Mrs. De Mullin
Everything. How did you come to be at Weymouth? I don’t remember your staying at Weymouth eight years ago.
I wasn’t staying there. But Monty was.
(shocked)
Monty!
Mr. Bulstead. Oh, whatdoesit matter now?
He’d had typhoid and was there to recruit. I’d ridden over on my bicycle...
(lamentably)
Bicycle! I always said it was all through bicycling.
(another shrug)
He ran into me, or I ran into him. I was rather shaken, and he asked me to come in and rest. It happened close to the house where he was lodging.
You went in! To his lodgings! A man you had never met before!
My dear mother, when you have been thrown off a bicycle, ordinary conventions cease to apply. Besides, as a matter of fact, wehadmet once before—the day before, in fact.
Where?
Here. By this very stile. Monty was riding past and he asked me the way to somewhere—Thoresby, I think. I was standing by the stile. Next day I happened to ride into Weymouth. We collided—and the rest you know.
(sternly)
Were those theonlytimes you met him, Janet?
Of course not, mother. After the Weymouth collision we met constantly, nearly every day. We used to meet out riding and I had tea with him lots of times in his rooms.
(horrified)
How long did this go on?
More than a month—till he left Weymouth, in fact. Now, mother, is that all you want to know? Because if so we’ll drop the subject.
Oh, Janet, whatwillyour father say!
Father? He won’t know.
Won’t know? But I must tell him.
Good heavens, why?
In order that Mr. Bulstead may marry you, of course. Your father will insist on his marrying you.
If father attempts to do that, mother, I shall deny the whole story. And Monty will back me up.
He would never be so wicked.
He would have to if I ask him. It’s the least he could do.
Johnny is there to prove it.
There’s nothing to prove that Monty is Johnny’s father. Nothing whatever.
But, Janet,whywon’t you marry him?
(impatiently)
My dear mother, because I don’t want to, of course.
You don’twantto?
Great heavens, no. Why should I? Monty Bulstead isn’t at all the sort of man I should care tomarry.
Why not?
Frankly, mother, because he’s not interesting enough. Monty’s a very nice fellow and I like him very much, but I don’t want to pass the remainder of my life with him. If I’m to marry anybody—and I don’t think I shall—it will have to be a rather more remarkable person than Monty Bulstead.
Yet youdidlove him, Janet. You must have loved him... then.
Oh yes. Then. But that was ages ago, before Johnny was born. After that I didn’t care for anybody any more except Johnny.
But, Janet, yououghtto marry him, for Johnny’s sake.
Too late, mother. That should have been eight years ago to be any use.
Better too late than not at all.
Better not at all than too late.
He seduced you, Janet.
(thoughtfully)
Did he? I was twenty-seven. He was twenty. If either of us was to blame, wasn’t it I?
Janet, you’re trying to screen him.
Dearest mother, you talk like a sentimental novel.
(indignantly)
And he’s to be allowed to marry Bertha Aldenham, just as if this had never happened?
Why not? It’s notherfault, is it? And girls find it difficult enough to get married nowadays, goodness knows.
Still, sheoughtto be told, Janet. I thinkshe mustbe told.
My dear mother, ifsheknows everybody will know, and the scandal will make all the dead and gone De Mullins turn in their graves. As for father it would simply kill him out of hand.
(sadly)
Poor father.
(briskly)
So, on the whole, I don’t think we’ll tell any one. Come, mother, it’s time we started.(More kindly)Poor mother. Don’t fret. Perhaps Hester will have some news to cheer you when we get home.
Hester?
(rallying her)
An engagement, mother. Hester’s engagement. Hester and Mr. Brown have been decorating the church for the lastfourhours. What an opportunity for a declaration! Or don’t people propose in church?
Janet, how can you laugh after what has happened?
Laugh? Of course I can laugh. What else is there to do? Let’s go home. Johnny! Johnny!(calls).
[By this time twilight is falling. A full moon has begun to risey lighting uf the scene.
(off r.)
Yes, Mummie.
Come along, dear. Mother’s going to start. Johnny(off r.)
All right, Mummie.(entering r.)Oh, Mummie, you’ve not seen my rabbits yet!
No. It’s too dark to-night. Mother must come and see them another time.
You won’t forget, will you, Mummie?(looking at Mrs. De Mullin)Grandmother, you’ve been crying. Is that because I stung myself with a nettle?
Little egoist! Of course it is. Give your grandmother a kiss and we’ll all walk home together.
[Mrs. De Mullin stoop and kisses Johnny passionately. They go off through the gate and the curtain falls.
Five days have passed since Act II
Scene:As in Act I
Time:Late afternoon
[When the curtain rises Mrs. Clouston, Mrs. De Mullin, and Janet are on the stage. The nervous tension of the last few days has clearly told on Janet, who looks feverish and irritable.
(speaking off into the hall on the right)Good-bye. Good-bye.
(who is standing about c., scornfully)Good-bye! Good-bye!
(shocked)
Janet!
(fiercely)
How many times a week does that Bulstead woman think it necessary to call on us?
(sitting)
She doesn’t call very often.
She’s been three times this week.
(closing door r.)
Naturally she wants to hear how your father is, dear.
(irritably)
My dear mother, whatcanit matter to Mrs. Bulstead whether father lives or dies?
Janet!
(exasperated)
Well, mother, do you seriously believe she cares? Or Miss Deanes? Or Miss Rolt? Or any of these people? They only call because they’ve nothing better to do. It’s sheer mental vacuity on their part. Besides, father’s perfectly well now. They know that. But they go oncalling, calling!I wonder Miss Deanes doesn’t bring her cockatoo to inquire.
[Tramps to and fro impatiently.
Really, Janet, I can’t think what’s the matter with you. Do sit down and try and exercise some selfcontrol.
I’ve no self-control where these Brendon people are concerned. They get on my nerves, every one of them.... Where’s Johnny?
In the garden, I think,
Sensible boy! He’s had enough of visitors for one day, I’ll be bound. I’ll go out and join him.
[Goes out angrily.
I can’t think what’s come to Janet the last day or two. Her temper gets worse and worse.
Perhaps it’s only the hot weather. No De Mullin—-
Nonsense, Jane, don’t be foolish. We can’t haveJanetgiving way to that sort of thing at her age.
I’m afraid she is rather irritable just now. She flew out quite savagely at Hester to-day just after luncheon.
Why was that?
Because of something she had been teaching Johnny. The Athanasian Creed I think it was. Yes, it must have been that because Johnny asked Janet what was meant by three Incomprehensibles. Janet asked him where he had heard all that and Johnny said Aunt Hester had taught it to him. Janet was very angry and forbade Hester ever to teach him anything again. Hester was quite hurt about it.
Naturally. Still, I do think Hester might have chosen something else to teach him.
That was what Janet said.
But that’s no reason why she shouldn’t behave herself when visitors are here. She was quite rude to Mrs. Bulstead. What they think of her in London when she goes on like this I can’t imagine.
Perhaps she isn’t like this in London.
Of course she is, Jane. Worse. Here she has the restraining influences of home life. Whereas in London, living alone as she does...
She has Johnny.
She has Johnny, of course. But that’s not enough. She ought to have a husband to look after her.
(sighs)
Yes.
[Seats herself slowly beside her sister.
Where’s Hester?
At church, I expect.
Church! Why the girl’s always at church.
It’s a Wednesday. And it does no harm, I think.
Let us hope not, Jane.
[De Mullin enters by the door on the left. He has evidently got over his recent attack and looks comparatively hale and vigorous.
Have you had your nap, Hugo?
Yes. The sunset woke me, I suppose. It was shining full on my face.
What a pity it woke you.
It didn’t matter. I’ve slept enough...(wanders towards sofa, c.). Where’s Johnny?
In the garden, I think, with Janet.
(wanders to window, c., and looks out)
Yes. There he is. He’s playing hide and seek with Ellen.... Now she’s caught him. No, he’s got away. Bravo, Johnny!(Stands watching intently for a while. Then turns and comes down c.)What a fine little fellow it is! A true De Mullin!
Do you think so, Hugo?
Every inch of him!(pause, sits c., half to himself)If only Janet had been married!
(sighs)
Yes.
(musing)
I wonder who the father really was.(looking up)She has never told you, Jane, I suppose?
(steadily, without looking up)
No, Hugo.
And never will. Nobody was ever so obstinate as Janet.
(nods sadly)
JANET always had plenty of will.
Far too much! [pause.
You’ll quite miss Johnny when he goes away from us, Won’t you, Hugo.
Yes. I never thought I could grow so fond of a child. The house will seem empty without him.
I shall miss him too.
We shall all miss him.(pause, thoughtfully)I wonder if Janet would leave him with us when she goes back to London?
Leave him with us? Altogether, you mean?
Yes.
I’m afraid not, Hugo. In fact, I’m quite sure she would not. She’s so fond of Johnny.
I suppose she wouldn’t(pause). I was greatly shocked at what you told me about her the other day, Harriet.
About her keeping a shop, you mean?
Yes. And going into partnership with a Miss Higgs or Hicks. It all sounds most discreditable.
Deplorable.
(meekly)
She had to do something to keep herself, Hugo.
No doubt. Still, it can’t be considered a proper sort of position for my daughter. I think she must give it up at once.
She would only have to take to something else.
Not necessarily. She might come back here to live with us... with Johnny, of course.
Mrs. De. Mullin(astonished)
Livewith us?
Why not, Jane?
Well, of course ifyouthink so, Hugo.
Are you sure you will like to have Janet living at home again, Hugo?
I think it might be the best arrangement. And I shall like to have Johnny here. He’s our only descendant, Harriet, the last of the De Mullins. If you or Jane had had a son it would be different.
(sighs)
Yes.
As it is I don’t see how we can do anything-better than have them both down here—as Jane doesn’t think Janet would part with Johnny. It would be better for Janet too. It would take her away from her present unsatisfactory surroundings. It would give her a position and independence—everything she now lacks.
I should have thought she wasindependentnow,
(irritably)
My dear Jane, how can a woman possibly be independent whose income comes out of selling hats? The only form of independence that is possible or desirable for a woman is that she shall be dependent upon her husband or, if she is unmarried, on her nearest male relative. I am sureyouagree with me, Harriet?
Quite, Hugo.
Very well. I will speak to her about it at once.
(nervously)
I hardly think I would say anything about it to-day, Hugo.
Why not, Jane?
Well, she seems nervous and irritable to-day. I think I should put it off for a day or two.
(testily)
My dear Jane, you are always procrastinating. If such an arrangement is to be made the sooner it is made the better.(Goes to window, c., calls)Janet my dear. Janet.
[Pause. Then Janet appears at window, c.
Did you call me, father?
Yes. Come to me for a moment. I want to speak to you.(De Mullin wanders undecidedly to the fireplace. A moment later Janet enters from the garden.)Is Johnny with you?
No. He’s having tea with Ellen. I said he might.
[Pause. Janet comes down.
Janet, your mother and I have been talking over your future.
Have you, father?
[With a quick glance at her mother. Mrs. De Mullin, however, makes no sign.
Yes. We have come to the conclusion that it would be better for you to come back here to live.
[Janet faces round towards her father.
But what would become of the business?
You will have to give up the business, of course. So much the better. You never ought to have gone into it. It was not at all a suitable occupation for you.
But I like it, father.
Likeit! A De Mullinlikekeeping a shop! Impossible.
(firmly)
Yes, Aunt Harriet, I like it. And I’m proud of it.
(sharply)
Nonsense, Janet. Nobody can possibly be proud of keeping a shop.
Iam. I made it, you see. It’s my child, like Johnny.
(amazed)
JANET! Do you understand what you’re doing? I offer you the chance of returning to Brendon to live as my daughter.
(indifferently)
I quite understand, father. And I’m much obliged for the offer. Only I decline it. That’s all.
Really!
(with dignity)
The question is, are you to be allowed to decline it, in Johnny’s interests if not your own?
Johnny’s?
Yes. Johnny’s. As long as he was a child it made little difference where he was brought up. Relatively little that is. Now he is getting to an age when early associations are all-important. Living here at Brendon in the home of his ancestors he will grow up worthy of the race from which he is descended. He will be a true De Mullin.
(quietly)
Perhaps I don’t want him to be a true De Mullin, father.
What do you mean?
My dear father, you’re infatuated about your De Mullins. Who are the De Mullins, after all? Mere country squires who lived on here down at Brendon generation after generation. What have they ever done that I should want Johnny to be like them? Nothing. There’s not one of them who has ever distinguished himself in the smallest degree or made his name known outside his native village. The De Mullins are, and have always been, nobodies. Look at their portraits. Is there a single one of them that is worth a second glance? Why they never even had the brains to be painted by a decent artist. With the result that they aren’t worth the canvas they’re painted on. Or is it board? I’d make a bonfire of them if they were mine.
Janet!
(impatiently)
I would. You seem to think there’s some peculiar virtue about always living in the same place. I believe in people uprooting themselves and doing something with their lives. What was the good of the De Mullins going on living down here century after century, always a little poorer and a little poorer, selling a farm here, mortgaging another there, instead of going out into the world to seek their fortunes? We’ve stayed too long in one place, we De Mullins. We shall never be worth anything sleeping away our lives down at Brendon.
(sharply)
Janet, you are talking foolishly. What you say only makes it clearer to me that you cannot be allowed to live by yourself in London any longer. Such a life is demoralizing to you. You must come back to Brendon.
I shall not come back to Brendon, father. On that I am quite determined.
(with dignity)
My dear, this is not a matter that rests with you. My mind is made up. Hitherto I have only asked you to return. Do not force me to command you.
(fiercely)
Command? By what right do you command?
By the right of a father, Janet. By that right I insist on your obedience.
(losing her temper)
Obedience! Obedience! I owe no one obedience. I am of full age and can order my life as I please. Is a woman never to be considered old enough to manage her own affairs? Is she to go down to her grave everlastingly under tutelage? Is she always to be obeying a father when she’s not obeying a husband? Well, I, for one, will not submit to such nonsense. I’m sick of this everlastingobedience.
(fiercely)
[Door opens l. Ellen enters with the lamp. There is a considerable pause, during which Ellen puts down the lamp, turns it up, pulls down the blind and begins to draw the curtains. In the middle of the last process De Mullin intervenes.
(irritably)
You can leave the curtains, Ellen.
Very well, sir.
[Exit Ellen l. with maddening deliberation. Pause.
Father, I’m sorry if what I said vexed you. Perhaps I spoke too strongly.
(with great dignity)
Very well, Janet. You will remain with us.
No, father, that’s not possible. For Johnny’s sake, as well as my own, it would be madness for us to live down here.
For Johnny’s sake?
Yes, Johnny’s. In London we’re not known, he and I. There he’s simply Johnny Seagrave, the son of a respectable widow who keeps a hat-shop. Here he is the son of Janet De Mullin who ran away from home one night eight years ago and whose name was never mentioned again by her parents until one fine day she turned up with an eight-year-old boy and said she was married. How long would they take to see throughthatstory down here, do you think?
(tartly)
Whose fault is that?
Never mind whose fault it is, Aunt Harriet. The question is, will they see through it or will they not? Of course, theyknownothing so far, but I’ve no doubt they suspect. What else have people to do down here but suspect other people? Miss Deanes murmurs her doubts to Mrs. Bulstead and Mrs. Bulstead shakes her head to Miss Deanes. Mrs. Bulstead! What right hassheto look down that huge nose of hers atme!She’s hadtenchildren!
JANET! She’s married.
To Mr. Bulstead! That vulgar animal! You don’t ask me to consider that amerit, do you? No, Mrs. Bulstead shan’t have the chance of sneering at Johnny ifIcan help it. Or at me either.
Janet, listen to me. You don’t understand how your father feels about this or how much it means to him. Johnny is his only grandchild—our only descendant. He would adopt him and call him De Mullin, and then the name would not die out. You know how much your father thinks of that and how sorry he has always been that I never had a son.
(more gently)
I know, mother. But when Hester marries...
Yes.
(turning angrily to his wife)
But whom is Hester going to marry? Is she going to marry? I have heard nothing about this. What’s this, Jane? Has something been kept from me?
No, no, Hugo. Nothing has been kept from you. It’s only some fancy of Janet’s. She thinks Mr. Brown is going to propose to Hester. There’s nothing in it, really.
Mr. Brown! Impossible!
Quite impossible!
(calmly)
Why impossible, father?
He would never dare to do such a thing.Mr. Brownto have the audacity to propose tomydaughter!
(quietly)
Why not, father?
(bubbling with rage)
Because he is not of a suitable position. Because theDe Mullinscannot be expected to marry people ofthatclass. Because...
(shrugs)
I dare say Mr. Brown won’t think of all that. Anyhow, I hope he won’t. I hope he’ll propose to Hester and she’ll accept him and then when they’ve a whole herd of little Browns you can select one of them and make a De Mullin of him, poor little wretch.
[At this moment Hester enters from the garden. An uncomfortable silence falls.
Hush, hush, Janet. Here is Hester. Is that you, Hester? Have you come from church?
Yes, mother.
[She comes down, her face looking pale and drawn, and stands by her mother.
You’re very late, dear.
A little, I stayed on after service was over.
How very eccentric of you!