The troubleyouhave brought upon me.
What! Why didn't you tell us you had a husband?
Why didn't you tell me that Dinah had a husband?
We didn't know it.
Well, if you didn't know your own daughter was married how can you wonder at your ignorance of other people's domestic complications?
But that's not all. You have informed us that you are now actually contributing to a nightly entertainment of a volatile description—that you are positively being laughed at in public.
Isn't it better to be laughed at in public, and paid for it, than to be sniggered at privately for nothing?
Mrs. Queckett, you are revealing your true character.
It is the same as your own—an undervalued wife. Let me open your eyes as mine are opened. We have engaged to love and to honour two men.
Ihave done nothing of the kind.
I mean one each.
Oh—excuse me.
Now—looking at him microscopically—is there much to love and to honour in Admiral Rankling?
He is a genial After-dinner Speaker.
Hah!
It is true he is rather austere.
An austere sailor! All bows abroad, and stern at home. Well, then—knowing what occurred last night—is there anything to love and to honour in Mr. Queckett?
Nothing whatever.
[Annoyed.] And yet he is undoubtedly the superior of Admiral Rankling. Very well then—do as I mean to do—put your foot down. If heaven has gifted you with a large one, so much the better. [The voices of Queckett and Rankling are heard suddenly raised in the adjoining room.]
[Outside.] Queckett.
[Outside.] My dear Rankling!
Vere!
The Admiral has released your husband.
[In the distance.] I'll trouble you, sir!
Certainly, Rankling.
[To Mrs. Rankling.] Come away, and I will advise you. Bring your head with you. [Miss Dyott and Mrs. Rankling carrying the broken bust, hurry out as Queckett enters quickly, followed by Rankling.]
Admiral Rankling, I shall mark my opinion of your behaviour—through the post.
Sit down.
Thank you—I've been sitting, I sat on you on the sofa.
Sit down. [Queckett sits promptly.] As an old friend of your family, Mr. Queckett, I am going to have a quiet chat with you on family matters. [Rankling wheels the arm-chair near Queckett.]
[To himself] I don't like his calmness—I don't like his calmness. [Rankling sits bending forward, and glaring at Queckett.]
[Grimly.] How is your sister Janet? Quite well, eh? [Fiercely.] Tell me—without a moment's delay, sir—how is Janet?
Permit me to say, Admiral Rankling, that whatever your standing with other members of my family, you havenoacquaintance with the lady you mention.
Oh, haven't I? [.Drawing his chair nearer Queckett.] Very well, then. Is Griffin quite well—Finch-Griffin of the Berkshire Royals?
I do not know how Major Griffin is, and I feel I do not care.
Oh, you don't. Very well, then. [Drawing his chair still nearer Queckett.] Will you answer me one simple but important question?
If it be a question a gentleman may answer—certainly.
How often do you hear from your brother Tankerville?
Oh!
[Clutching Queckett's knee.] He's Deputy Inspector of Prisons in British Guiana, you know. Doesn't have time to write often, does he?
Admiral Rankling, you will permit me to remind you that in families of long standing and complicated interests there are regrettable estrangements which should be lightly dealt with. [Affected.] You have recalled memories. [Rising.] Excuse me.
[Rising.] No sir, I will not excuse you!
Where are my gloves?
Because, Mr. Queckett, I have your assurance as a gentleman that your brother Tankerville's daughter is married to a charming young fellow of the name of Parkinson. Now I've discovered that Parkinson is really a charming young fellow of the name of Paulover, so that, as Paulover has married my daughter as well as Tankerville's, Paulover must be prosecuted for bigamy, and as you knew that Paulover was Parkinson, and Parkinson Paulover, you connived at the crime, inasmuch as knowing Paulover was Tankerville's daughter's husband you deliberately aided Parkinson in making my child Dinah his wife. But that's not the worst of it!
Oh!
[Continuing, rapidly and excitedly.] Because I have since received your gentlemanly assurance that Tankerville's daughter is my daughter. Now, either you mean to say that I've behaved like a blackguard to Tankerville—which will be a libel—or that Tankerville has conducted himself with less than common fairness to me—which will be a divorce. And, in either case, without wishing to anticipate the law, I shall personally chastise you, because, although I've been a sailor on the high seas for five and forty years, I have never during the whole of that period listened to such a yarn of mendacious fabrications as you spun me last night!
[Beginning to carefully put on his gloves.] It would be idle to deny that this affair has now assumed its most unpleasant aspect. Admiral Rankling—the time has come for candour on both sides.
Be quick, sir!
I am being quick, Rankling. I admit, with all the rapidity of utterance of which I am capable, that my assurances of last night were founded upon an airy basis.
In plain words—lies, Mr. Queckett.
A habit of preparing election manifestos for various members of my family may have impaired a fervent admiration for truth, in which I yield to no man.
[Advancing in a determined manner.] Very well, sir!
[Retreating.] One moment, Rankling. One moment—if not two! I glean that you are prepared to assault—
To chastise!
Well, to inconvenience a man at whose table you feasted last night. Do so!
I will do so!
I say, do so. But the triumph, when you kneel upon my body—for I am bound to tell you that I shall lie down—the triumph will be mine!
You are welcome to it, sir. Put down that umbrella!
What for?
Ihaven't an umbrella.
You haven't? Allow me to leave this room, my dear Rankling, and I'll beg your acceptance of this one. [Rankling advances fiercely; Queckett retreats; Miss Dyott enters.]
Caroline!
Stop, Admiral Rankling, if you please. Any reprimand, physical or otherwise, will be administered to Mr. Queckett at my hands.
[To himself.] I would have preferred Rankling. Rankling I could have winded. [He goes out quickly. Miss Dyott following in pursuit.]
[As she goes.] Vere!
I am in my own house, madam—[Mrs. Rankling enters, carrying the broken bust.]
Emma, go back to bed.
Archibald Rankling, attend to me. Don't roll your eyes—but attend to me.
Emma, your tone is dictatorial.
It is meant to be so, because, after seventeen years of married life, I am going to speak my mind at last. [Holding up the head before him.] Archibald, look at that.
What's that?
Myself—less than ten years ago—the sculptor's earliest effort.
Broken—made of bad stuff—send it back.
It is your memory I wish to send back. Ah, Archibald, do you see how round and plump those cheeks are?
People alter. You were stout then.
I was.
In those days I was thin.
Frightfully.
Very well, then—the average remains the same. Some day we may return to the old arrangement.
If you ever find yourself a spare man again, Archibald, it won't be because I have worried and fretted you with my peevish ill-humour—
Emma!
As you have worried and worn me with yours.
Emma, you have completely lost your head. [She raises the broken bust.] I don't mean that confounded bust. That was an ideal.
And if a mere sculptor could make your wife an ideal, why shouldn't you try? So, understand me finally, Archibald, I will not be ground down any longer. Unless some arrangement is arrived at for the happiness of dear Dinah and Mr. Paulover, I leave you.
Leave me!
This very day.
Wantonly desert your home and husband, Emma?
Yes.
[With emotion.] And I don't know where to put my hand upon even a necktie! [Covering his face with his handkerchief.]
All the world shall learn how highly you thought of Dinah's marriage at Mr. Queckett's party last night.
[To himself] Oh!
And what a very different man you have always been in your own home. [Beginning to cry.] And take care, Archibald, that the verdict of posterity is not that you were less a husband and father than a tyrant and oppressor. [Queckett enters, with Miss Dyott in pursuit; she follows him out.]
[As she goes.] Vere! [Rankling blows his nose and wipes his, eyes, and looks at Mrs. Rankling.]
[In a conciliatory tone.] Emma! Emma!
[Weeping.] Oh, dear, oh, dear!
Emma. [Irritably.] Don't tuck your head under your arm in that way! [She puts the broken bust on the table.] Emma, there have been grave faults on both sides. Yours I will endeavour to overlook.
Ah, now you are your dear old self again.
But, Emma, you are occasionally an irritating woman to live with.
You are the first who has ever said that.
So I should hope, Emma.
And poor Dinah—you will forgive her?
On conditions that she doesn't see Paulover's face again for five years.
Oh, there will be no difficulty about that. [Reginald and Dinah enter, she is dressed for flight.]
Papa!
My father-in-law! [They retreat hastily.]
[Madly.] Who let you out? Who let you in? [He goes out after them—Mrs. Rankling follows.]
[As she goes out.] Archibald! continue your dear old self. [Queckett enters by another door, Miss Dyott following him—both out of breath. They look at each other, recovering themselves?]
I understand that you wish to speak to me, Caroline.
Oh, you—you paltry little man! You mean ungrateful little creature! You laced-up little heap of pompous pauperism! You—you—I cannot adequately describe you. Wretch!
[Putting on his gloves again.] Have you finished with me, Caroline? Finished with you! I shall never have finished with you! Never till you leave me!
[Rising.] Till I leave you?
Till you leave me a widow.
[Resuming his seat, disappointed.] Oh!
You don't think I expect you to leave me anything else. Oh, what could I have seen in you!
I take it, Caroline, that, in the language of the hunting field, you "scented" a gentleman.
Scented a gentleman! In the few weeks of our marriage I have scented you and cigaretted you, wined you and liqueured you, tailored and hatted and booted you. I have darned and mended and washed you—gruelled you with a cold, tinctured you with a toothache, and linimented you with the gout. [Fiercely.] Have I not? Have I not?
You certainly have had exceptional privileges. Familiarity appears to have fulfilled its usual functions and bred—
The most utter contempt. Have I not paid your debts?
[Promptly.] Not at my suggestion.
And all for what?
I assume, for Love's dear sake, Carrie.
For the sake of having the vestal seclusion of Volumnia College telegraphically denominated as Bachelor Diggings!
Any collection of young ladies may be so described. The description is happy but harmless. As for the subsequent conflagration—
Don't talk about it!
I say with all sincerity that from the moment the fire broke out till I escaped no one regretted it more than myself.Thatwas Tyler!
Tyler! What Tyler! I make no historical reference when I say what Tyler was it who abruptly tore aside the veil of mystery which had hitherto shrouded the existence of champagne and lobster salad from four young girls! It was you!
No, it wasn't, Carrie, upon my word?
Bah!
Upon my honour!
[Witheringly.] Hah!
Those vexing pupils played the very devil with me. After you left, the pupils, as it were, dilated.
Yes, and you ordered them champagne glasses, I suppose! Oh, deceiver!
You talk of deception! What about the three o'clock train from Paddington?
It was the whole truth—there was one.
But you didn't travel in it! What about the clergyman's wife at Hereford?
Go there—you will find several!
But you're not staying with them. Oh, Carrie, how can you meet my fearless glance when you recall that my last words yesterday were "Cabman, drive to Paddington—the lady will pay your fare?"
I cannot deny that it is by accident you have discovered that I am Queen Honorine in Otto Bernstein's successful comic opera.
And what do you think my family would think of that!
It is true that the public now know me as Miss Constance Delaporte.
[Indignantly.] Oh! Miss Constance Delaporte!
The new and startling contralto—her first appearance.
And have I, a Queckett, after all, gone and married a Connie?
You have! It is true too, that last night, while you and my pupils were dilating, I was singing—ay, and at one important juncture, dancing!
[With horror.] No, no—not dancing!
Madly, desperately, hysterically, dancing!
And to think—if there was any free list—that my brother Bob may have been there.
But do you guess the one thought that prompted me, buoyed me up, guided my steps, and ultimately produced a lower G of exceptional power.
[With a groan.] No.
The thought that every note I sang might bring a bank-note to my lonely Vere at home.
Carrie
I went through the performance in a dream! The conductor's bâton beat nothing but, "Vere, Vere, Vere," into my eyes. Some one applauded me! I thought, "Ah, that's worth a new hat to Vere!" I sang my political verse—a man very properly hissed. "He has smashed Vere's new hat," I murmured. At last came my important solo. I drew a long breath, saw a vision of you reading an old copy ofThe Rock, by the fireside at home—and opened my mouth. I remembered nothing more till I found myself wildly dancing to therefrainof my song. The audience yelled with approbation—I bowed again and again—and then tottered away to sink into the arms of the prompter with the words, "Vere, catch your Carrie!"
But my family—my brother Bob—
What have they ever done for you? While I—it was my ambition to devote every penny of my salary to your little wants.
And isn't it?
No—Vere Albany Bute Queckett; it isn't. The moment I dragged you down that ladder last night, and left behind me the smouldering ruins of Volumnia College, I became an altered woman.
Then I will lay the whole affair before my family.
Do, and tell them to what your selfishness has brought you—that where there was love there is disdain, where there was claret there will be beer, where there were cigars there will be pipes, and where there was Poole there will be Kino!
Oh, why didn't I wait and marry a lady?
You did marry a lady! But scratch the lady and you find a hardworking comic actress!
Be silent, madam!
Ha! Ha! This is my revenge, Vere Queckett! To-night I will dance more wildly, more demonstratively than ever!
I forbid it!
Youforbid it!Youdictate to Constance Delaporte—the hit of the opera! I am Queen Honorine! [She slaps her hands and sings with great abandonment, and in the pronounced manner of the buffo queen, the song she is supposed to sing in Bernstein's opera. Singing.]=
````'Rine, 'Rine, Honorine!
````Mighty, whether wife or queen;
````Firmer ruler never seen,
```Than 'Rine, 'Rine! La!=
[Indignantly.] I will write to my married sisters!
Do—and I will call upon them! [Singing.] =
````Man's a boasting, fretting fumer,
````Smoking alcohol consumer,
````Quick of temper, ill of humour!=
Oh, you shall sing this to my family!
I will! [Singing with her hands upon her hips.]=
````Woman has no petty vices,
````Cuts her sins in good thick slices,
````With a smile that sweet and nice is!=
[Writhing.] Oh!
[Boisterously.] Refrain! [Singing and dancing.]=
````'Rine, 'Rine, Honorine!
````Mighty, whether wife or queen,
````Firmer ruler never seen,
````Than 'Rine, 'Rine! La!=
[With a burst of hysterical laughter she sinks into a chair.]
Oh, I will tell my brother of you! [Daylight appears through the conservatory doors. Mrs. Rankling and Dinah enter. Mallory and Peggy enter from conservatory "spooning."]
My dear Mrs Queckett, I owe everything to you,—my treatment of the dear Admiral has had wonderful results. What do you think! The Admiral and Mr. Paulover are quite reconciled and understand each other perfectly. [Rankling and Paulover enter, glaring at each other and quarrelling violently in undertones.] Look—the Admiral already regards him as his own child. [Saunders, Ermyntrude, and Gwendoline enter and join Peggy and Mallory.]
[Sobbing.] But we are to be separated for five years. Oh, Reggie, you trust me implicitly, don't you?
[Fiercely.] I do. And that is why I warn you never to let me hear of you addressing another man.
Oh, Reggie! [They embrace.]
Don't do that! You don't see me behaving in that way to Mrs. Rankling—and we've been married for years.
[To Dinah.] But you and Mr. Paulover are to be allowed to meet once every quarter.
Yes—in the presence of Admiral Rankling and a policeman! [Mrs. Rankling, Rankling, Dinah and Reginald join the others.—Otto Bernstein enters quickly and excitedly, carrying a quantity of newspapers.]
I beg your pardon. I must see Miss Constance Delaporte—I mean, Miss Dyott.
Mr. Bernstein.
Your house is burnt down. It does not madder. You have made a gread hit in my new oratorio—I mean my gomic opera. I have been walking up and down Fleet Street waiting for the babers to gome out. [Handing round all the newspapers.]
Der "Dimes"—Der "Delegraph"—Der "Daily News"—Der "Standard"—Der "Bost"—Der "Ghronicle"! Dey are all gomplimentary except one, and dat I gave to the gabman.
[Reading.] "Miss Delaporte—a decided acquisition."
Go on!
[Reading.] "Miss Delaporte—an imposing figure." [Indignantly.] What do they know about it?
[Excitedly.] Go on! Go on! I always say I do not read the babers, but I do! [To Miss Dyott.] You will get fifty bounds a week in my next oratorio—I mean, my gomic opera.
Fifty pounds a week! My Carrie! I shall be able to snap my fingers at my damn family.
How very pleasing! [Reading.] "A voice of great purity, a correct intonation, and a lower G of decided volume, rendered attractive some music not remarkable for grace or originality." [Bernstein takes the paper from Mrs. Rankling.]
I did not see dat—I will give dat to the gabman. Goo-bye—I cannot stay. I am going to have a Turkish bath till the evening babers gome out. I always say I do not read the evening babers—but I do! [He bustles out.]
Mrs. Queckett, I shall book stalls at once to hear your singing.
No, Emma—dress circle.
Stalls, Archibald.
[Glaring!] Dress circle!
Stalls, Archibald, or I leave you for ever!
[Mildly.] Very well, Emma. I have no desire but to please you.
I take this as a great compliment, my dear Rankling. Carrie and I thank you. But I can't hear of it. I insist on offering you both a seat in my box.
Yourbox!
[Softly to her.] Hush! Carrie, my darling! Your Vere's private box!
Mr. Queckett's private box, during my absence at night, will be our lodgings, where he will remain under lock and key. [Peggy laughs at Queckett.]
[To Peggy.] Oh, you vexing girl!
[Annoyed.] Excuse me, my dear Queckett—but while looking at the plants in the conservatory, I became engaged to Miss Hesslerigge. [There is a general exclamation of surprise.]
[To Mallory.] Ah, coward, you haven't to wait five years! [Jane enters.]
Oh, if you please, ma'am, Tyler—
Tyler!
Tyler wants to know who is to pay him the reward for being the first to fetch the fire engines last night?
I will!
No—I will. Tyler has rendered me a signal service. He has demolished Volumnia College. From the ashes of that establishment rises the Phoenix of my new career. Miss Dyott is extinct—Miss Delaporte is alive, and, during the evening, kicking. I hope none will regret the change—I shall not, for one, while the generous public allow me to remain a Favourite!