"SHOW IT NOW, BY PUTTING MONEY IN THIS 'AT!""SHOW IT NOW, BY PUTTING MONEY IN THIS 'AT!"
The Socialist.Fellow-Citizens, I appeal to you, give this man rope—he's doing our work splendidly!
The D. M.Well, all I've got to say is——(Shouts of "Get down!" Yells and booing). Oh, you won't tire me out that way. AllIcan say is, I'd a precious sight rather——
The Chairman(excitedly). Fellow citizens, we've listened to this man long enough—these sentiments are an insult to the meeting!
[Yells as before.
The Socialist(extending a billycock hat with a passionate gesture). Feller Demmercrats, if you are earnest, if you are sincere in the indignation, the just hindignation, this man provokes—show it now, by putting money in this 'at for the Plan o' Campaign! [The storm lulls.
The D. M.(resuming). I arsk every honest man here whether——
Chairman(interposing). I think, as our friend here don't seem able to keep to his point, we won't call upon him for any further remarks.
[The D. M.is hustled down, amidst derisive cheers and groans; theSocialistascends the Platform.
The Socialist.I don't mind tellin' yer, friends and feller citizens, that in the late election in Heast Marylebone, I used all my influence—(cheers)—allmyinfluence to deter men from voting for your Radical candidate. (Sensation, and a cry of "More shame for yer!") Ah, Idid, though, and I'd do it agin, and I'll tell yer for why. I 'ate yer Tories, but if I'm to be 'it a blow in the face, I don't like it done behind my back. (Cheers). And your precious Liberals and Radicals, they're worse nor hany Tories, and for this reason—(with a penetrating glance)—they're more hinvidious! Ah, that's it, they're morehinvidious! Traitors, hevery man jack of 'em!
[And so on, concluding with denunciations of all "sending round the 'at," and appeals for contributions to the Plan of Campaign. Meeting dissolves with three cheers for the coming Republic from the victims of a Tyrannous System of Repression of Opinion.
Scene—A Riding-school, on a raw chilly afternoon. The gas is lighted, but does not lend much cheerfulness to the interior, which is bare and bleak, and pervaded by a bluish haze. Members of the Class discovered standing about on the tan, waiting for their horses to be brought in. At the further end is an alcove, with a small balcony, in whichMrs. Bilbow-Kay,the Mother of one of the Equestrians, is seated with a young female Friend.
Mrs. Bilbow-Kay.Oh, Robert used to ride very nicely indeed when he was a boy; but he has been out of practice lately, and so, as the Doctor ordered him horse-exercise, I thought it would be wiser for him to take a few lessons. Such an excellent change for any one with sedentary pursuits!
The Friend.But isn't riding a sedentary pursuit, too?
Mrs. B.-K.Robert sayshedoesn't find it so.
[Enter theRiding Master.
Riding Master(saluting with cane). Evenin', Gentlemen—your 'orses will be in directly; 'ope we shall see someridin'this time. (Clatter without; enter Stablemen with horses.) Let me see—Mr. Bilbow-Kay, Sir, you'd better ride theShar; he ain't been out all day, so he'll want some 'andling. (Mr. B.-K.,with a sickly smile, accepts a tall and lively horse.) No, Mr. Tongs, that ain'tyour'orse to-day—you've got beyond'im, Sir. We'll put you up onLady Loo; she's a bit rough till you get on terms with her, but you'll be all right on her after a bit. Yes, Mr. Joggles, Sir, you takeKangaroo, please. Mr. Bumpas, I've 'ad theArtful Dodgerout for you; and mind he don't get rid of you so easy as he did Mr. Gripperlast time. Got a nice 'orse foryou, Mr. 'Arry Sniggers, Sir—Frar Diavolo. You mustn't take no notice of his bucking a bit at starting—he'll soon leave it off.
"YOU AIN'T NO MORE 'OLD ON THAT SADDLE THAN A STAMP WITH THE GUM LICKED OFF!""YOU AIN'T NO MORE 'OLD ON THAT SADDLE THAN A STAMP WITH THE GUM LICKED OFF!"
Mr. Sniggers(who conceals his qualms under a forced facetiousness). Soon leavemeoff you mean!
R. M. (after distributing the remaining horses). Now then—bring your 'orses up into line, and stand by, ready to mount at the word of command, reins taken up in the left 'and with the second and little fingers, and a lock of the 'orse's mane twisted round the first. Mount! That 'orse ain't abicycle, Mr. Sniggers. [Mr. S. (in an undertone). No—worse luck!] Number off! Walk! I shall give the word to trot directly, so now's the time to improve your seats—that back a bit straighter, Mr. 'Ooper. No. 4 just fall out, and we'll let them stirrup-leathers down another 'ole or two for yer. (No. 4, who has just been congratulating himself that his stirrups were conveniently high, has to see them let down to a distance where he can just touch them by stretching.) Now you're all comfortable. ["Oh,arewe?"fromMr. S.] Trot! Mr. Tongs, Sir, 'old that 'orse in—he's gettin' away with you already. Very bad, Mr. Joggles, Sir—keep those 'eels down! Lost your stirrup, Mr. Jelly? Never mind that—feelfor it, Sir. I want you to be independent of the irons. I'm going to make you ride without 'em presently. (Mr. Jellyshivers in his saddle.) Captin' Cropper, Sir; if that Volunteer ridgment as you're goin' to be the Major of sees you like you are now, on a field-day—they'll 'ave to fall out tolarf, Sir! (Mr. Cropperdevoutly wishes he had been less ingenuous as to his motive for practising his riding.) Now, Mr. Sniggers, make that 'orse learn 'oo's the master! [Mr. S. "Heknows, the brute!"]
Mrs. B.-K.He's very rude to all the Class, except dear Robert—but then Robert has such a nice easy seat.
The R. M.Mr. Bilbow-Kay, Sir, try and set a bit closer. Why, you ain't no more 'old on that saddle than a stamp with the gum licked off! Can-ter!You're, all right, Mr. Joggles—it's on'y his play; set down on your saddle, Sir!... I didn't say on the ground!
Mrs. B.-K.(anxiously to herSon,as he passes). Bob, are you quite sure you're safe? (ToFriend.) His horse is snorting so dreadfully!
R. M. 'Alt! Every Gentleman take his feet out of the stirrups, and cross them on the saddle in front of him. Not yourfeet, Mr. Sniggers, we ain't Turks 'ere!
Mr. S.(sotto voce). "There'sonebloomin' Turk 'ere, anyway!"
R. M. Now then—Walk!... Trot! Set back, Gentlemen, set back all—'old on by your knees, not the pommels.Isee you, Mr. Jelly, kitchin' old o' the mane—I shall 'ave to give you a 'ogged 'orse next time you come. Quicken up a bit—this is a ride, not a funeral. Why, I couldrollfaster than you're trotting! Lor, you're like a row o' Guy Foxes on 'orseback, you are! Ah, I thought I'd see one o' you orf! Goa-ron, all o' you, you don't come 'ere toplayat ridin'—I'll make you ride afore I've done with you! 'Ullo, Mr. Joggles, nearly gone that time, Sir! There, that'll do—or we'll 'ave all your saddles to let unfurnished. Wa—alk! Mr. Bilbow-Kay, when your 'orse changes his pace sudden, it don't look well for you to be found settin' 'arf way up his neck, and it gives him a bad opinion of yer, Sir. Uncross stirrups! Trot on! It ain't no mortal use your clucking to that mare, Mr. Tongs, Sir, because she don't understand the langwidge—touch her with your 'eel in the ribs. Mr. Sniggers, that 'orse is doin' jest what he likes with you. 'It 'im, Sir; he's no friends and few relations!
Mr. S.(with spirit).Iain't going to 'it 'im. If you want him 'it, get up and do it yourself!
R. M. When I say "Circle Right"—odd numbers'll wheel round and fall in be'ind even ones. CircleRight!... Well, if ever I—I didn't tell yer to falloffbe'ind. Ketch your 'orses and stick to 'em next time. Right In-cline! O' course, Mr. Joggles, if you prefer takin' that animal for a little ride all by himself we'll let you out in the streets—otherwise p'raps you'll kindly follow yer leader. Captain Cropper, Sir, if you let that curb out a bit more,Reindeerwouldn't be 'arf so narsty with yer.... Ah, now you'avedone it. You wantyourreins painted different colours and labelled, Sir, you do. 'Alt, the rest of you.... Now, seein' you're shook down in your saddles a bit—["Shookup'smore like it!"fromMr. S.]—we'll 'ave the 'urdles in and show you a bit o' Donnybrook! (The Class endeavours to assume an air of delighted anticipation at this pleasing prospect.)ToAssistant R. M., (who has entered and said something in an undertone.) Eh,Captin' 'Edstall here, and wants to try the grey cob over 'urdles? Ask him if he'll come in now—we're just going to do some jumping.
Assist. R. M.This lot don't look much like going over 'urdles—'cept in front o' the 'orse, but I'll tell the Captain.
[The hurdles are brought in and propped up.Enter a well-turned-outStranger,on a grey cob.
Mr. Sniggers(to him). You ain't lost nothing by coming late, I can tell yer. We've bin having a gay old time in 'ere—made us ride without sterrups, he did!
Captain Headstall.Haw, really? Didn't get grassed, did you?
Mr. S.Well, me and my 'orse separated by mutual consent. I ain't what you call a fancy 'orseman. We've got to go at that 'urdle in a minute. How doyoulike the ideer, eh? It's no good funking it—it's got to bedone!
R. M. Now, Captin—notyou, Captin Cropper—Captin 'EdstallImean, will you show them the way over, please?
[Captain H.rides at it;the cob jumps too short, and knocks the hurdle down—to his rider's intense disgust.
Mr. S.I say, Guvnor, that was a near thing. I wonder you weren't off.
Capt. H.I—ah—don't often come off.
Mr. S.You won't say that when you've been 'ere a few times. You see, they've put you on a quiet animal this journey.Ishall try to get him myself next time. He be'aves like a gentleman,hedoes.
Capt. H.You won't mount him, if you take my advice—he has rather a delicate mouth.
Mr. S.Oh, I don't mind that—I should ride him on the curb o' course.
[The Class ride at the hurdle one by one.
R. M. Now, Mr. Sniggers, give 'im more of 'is 'ed than that, Sir—or he'll take it.... Oh, Lor, well, it's soft falling luckily! Mr. Joggles, Sir, keep him back till you're in a line with it.... Better, Sir; you come down true on your saddle afterwards anyway!... Mr. Parabole!... Ah,wouldyou?Toldyou he was tricky, Sir! Try him at it again.... Now—over!... Yes, and it is over, and no mistake!
Mrs. B.-K.Now it's Robert's turn. I'm afraid he's been overtiring himself, he looks so pale. Bob, you won't let him jump too high,willyou?—Oh, I daren't look. Tell me, my love,—is hesafe?
Her Friend.Perfectly—they're just brushing him down.
AFTERWARDS.
Mrs. B.-K.(to herSon). Oh, Bob, you must never think of jumping again—itissuch a dangerous amusement!
Robert(who has been cursing the hour in which he informed his parent of the exact whereabouts of the school). It's all right with a horse that knowshowto jump. Mine didn't.
The Friend.Ithoughtyou seemed to jump a good deal higher than the horse did. They ought to be trained to keep close under you, oughtn't they? [Robertwonders if she is as guileless as she looks.]
Capt. Cropper(to theR. M.) Oh, takes about eight months, with a lesson every day, to make a man efficient in the Cavalry, does it? But, look here—I suppose four more lessons will putmeall right, eh? I've hadeight, y' know.
R. M. Well, Sir, if youarskme, I dunno as another arf dozen 'll do you any 'arm—but, o'course, that's just asyoufeel about it.
[Captain Cropperendeavours to extract encouragement from this Delphic response.]
Scene—The Library of a Country-House; the tables and chairs are heaped with brocades, draperies, and properties of all kinds, which the Ladies of the company are trying on, while the men rack their brains for a suitable Word.In a secluded corner,Mr. NightingaleandMiss Roseare conversing in whispers.
Mr. Whipster(Stage-Manager and Organizer—self-appointed). No—but I say,really, you know, wemusttry and decide on something—we've been out half-an-hour, and the people will be getting impatient! (To the Ladies.) Do come and help; it's really no use dressing up till we've settled what we're goingto do. Can'tanybodythink of a good Word?
Miss Larkspur.We ought to make a continuous story of it, with the same plot and characters all through. We did that once at the Grange, and it was awfully good—just like a regular Comedy!
Mr. Whipster.Ah, but we've got to hit ona Wordfirst. Come—nobody got an idea? Nightingale, you're not much use overthere, you know. I hope you and Miss Rose have been putting your heads together?
Mr. Nightingale(confused). Eh? No, nothing of the sort! Oh, ah—yes, we've thought of alotof Words.
Miss Rose.Only you've driven them all out of our heads again!
[They resume their conversation.
Mr. Wh.Well, do make a suggestion, somebody! Professor, won'tyougive us a Word?
Chorus of Ladies.Oh,do, Professor—you're sure to think of something clever!
Professor Pollen(modestly). Well, really, I've so little experience in these matters that—A Wordhasjust occurred to me, however; I don't know, of course, whether it will meet with approval—(he beams at them with modest pride through his spectacles)—it's "Monocotyledonous."
Chorus of Ladies.Charming! Monocottle—Oh, can't wedothat?
Mr. Wh.(dubiously). We might—but—er—what's itmean?
Prof. Pollen.It's a simple botanical term, signifying a plant which has only one cup-shaped leaf, or seed-lobe. Plants withtwoare termed—
Mr. Wh.I don't see how we're going to act a plant with only one seed-lobe myself—and then the syllables—"mon"—"oh"—"cot"—"till"—we shouldn't get done beforemidnight, you know!
Prof. Pollen(with mild pique). Well, I merely threw it out as a suggestion. I thought it could have been made amusing. No doubt I was wrong; no doubt.
Mr. Settee(nervously). I've thought of a word. How would—er—"Familiar" do?
Mr. Wh.(severely). Now,really, Settee,dotry not to footle like this!
[Mr. Setteesubsides amidst general disapproval.
Mr. Flinders(with a flash of genius). I've got it—Gamboge!
Mr. Wh.Gamboge, eh? Let's see how that would work:—"Gam"-"booge." How do you see it yourself?
[Mr. Flindersdiscovers on reflection, that he doesn't see it, and the suggestion is allowed to drop.
Miss Pelagia Rhys.I'vean idea.Familiar!"Fame"-"ill"-"liar," you know.
[Chorus of applause.
Mr. Wh.Capital! The very thing—congratulate you, Miss Rhys!
Mr. Settee(sotto voce). But I say, look here,Isuggested that, you know, and you said—!
Mr. Wh.(ditto). What on earthdoesit matter who suggests it, so long as it's right? Don't be an ass, Settee! (Aloud.) How are we going to do the first syllable "Fame," eh? [Mr. Setteesulks.
Mr. Pushington.Oh, that's easy. One of us must come on as a Poet, and all the ladies must crowd round flattering him, and making a lotof him, asking him for his autograph, and so on. I don't mind doing the Poet myself, if nobody else feels up to it.
[He begins to dress for the part by turning his dress-coat inside out, and putting on a turban and a Liberty sash, by way of indicating the eccentricity of genius; the Ladies adorn themselves with a similar regard to realism, and even more care for appearances.
AFTER THE FIRST SYLLABLE.
The Performers return from the drawing-room, followed by faint applause.
Mr. Pushington.Went capitally, that syllable, eh? (No response.) You might have played up to me a little more than you did—you others. You let me do everything!
Miss Larkspur.You never let any of us get a word in!
Mr. Pushington.Because you all talked at once, that was all. Now then—"ill." I'll be a celebrated Doctor, and you all come to me one by one, and say you'reill—see?
[Attires himself for the rôle of a Physician in a dressing-gown and an old yeomanry helmet.
Mr. Whipster(huffily). Seems to me I may as well go and sit with the audience—I'm no usehere!
Mr. Pushington.Oh, yes, Whipster, I want you to be my confidential butler, and show the patients in.
[Mr. W.accepts—with a view to showingPushingtonthat other people can act as well as he.
AFTER THE SECOND SYLLABLE.
Mr. Pushington.Seemed todraga little, somehow! There was no necessity for you to make all those long soliloquies, Whipster. A Doctor's confidential servant wouldn't chatter so much!
Mr. Whipster.You were so confoundedly solemn over it, I had to put some fun insomewhere!
Mr. P.Well, you might have put it where some one could see it. Nobody laughed.
Professor Pollen.I don't know, Mr. Pushington, why, when I was describing my symptoms—which I can vouch for as scientifically correct—you persisted in kicking my legs under the table—it was unprofessional, Sir, and extremely painful!
Mr. Pushington.I was only trying to hint to you that as there were a dozen other people to follow, it was time you cut the interview short, Professor—that one syllable alone has taken nearly an hour.
Miss Buckram.If I had known the kind of questions you were going to ask me, Mr. Pushington, I should certainly not have exposed myself to them. I say no more, but I must positively decline to appear with you again.
Mr. Pushington.Oh, but really, you know, in Charades one gets carried away at times. I assure you, I hadn't the remotest (&c., &c.—untilMiss Buckramis partly mollified.) Now then—last syllable. Look here, I'll be a regular impostor, don't you know, and all of you come on and say what aliarI am. We ought to make that screamingly funny!
AFTER THE THIRD SYLLABLE.
Mr. Pushington.Muddled? Ofcourseit was muddled—you all called me a liar before I opened my mouth!
The Rest.But you didn't seem to know how to begin, and wehadto bring the Word in somehow.
Pushington.Bring it in?—but you needn't have let itout. There was Settee there, shouting "liar" till he was black in the face. We must have looked a set of idiots from the front. I sha'n't go in again (muttering). It's no use acting Charades with people who don't understand it. There; settle the Word yourselves!
AFTER THE WORD. AMONG THE AUDIENCE.
General Murmur.Whatcanit be? NotTurk, I suppose, or Magician?—Quarrelling?—Parnellite—Impertinence? Shall we give it up? No, they like us to guess, poor things; and besides, if we don't they'll do another; and it is gettingsolate, and such alongdrive home. Oh, they'reall coming back; then itisover. No, indeed, we can'timagine. "Familiar!" To be sure—howclever, andhowwell you all acted it, to be sure—you must be quite tired after it all. I am surewe—hem—are deeply indebted to you.... My dear Miss Rose, how wonderfully you disguised yourself, I never recognized you a bit, noryou, Mr. Nightingale. What part didyoutake?
Mr. Nightingale.I—er—didn't take any particular part—wasn't wanted, you know.
Miss Rose.Not toact,—so we stayed outside and—and—arranged things.
An Old Lady.Indeed? Then you had all the hard work, and none of the pleasure, my dear, I'm afraid.
Miss Rose(sweetly). Oh no. I mean yes!—but we didn'tmindit much.
The O. L.And which of you settled what the Word was to be?
Mr. N.Well, I believe we settled that together.
[Carriages are announced; departure of guests who are not of the house-party.In the Smoking-room,Mr. Pushingtondiscovers that he does not seem exactly popular with the other men, and puts it down to jealousy.
Scene—Mrs. Chipperfield'sDrawing-room.It is after the Christmas dinner, and the Gentlemen have not yet appeared.Mrs. C.is laboriously attempting to be gracious to her Brother's Fiancée, whose acquaintance she has made for the first time, and with whom she is disappointed.Married Sisters and Maiden Aunts confer in corners with a sleepy acidity.
First Married Sister(to Second). I felt quite sorry for Fred, to see him sitting there, looking—and no wonder—so ashamed of himself—but I always will say, and I alwaysmustsay, Caroline, that if you and Robert had beenfirmerwith him when he was younger, he would never have turned out so badly! Now, there's my George—&c., &c.
Mrs. C.(to the Fiancée). Well, my dear, I don't approve of young men getting engaged until they have some prospect of being able to marry, and dear Algy was always my favourite brother, and I've seen so much misery from long engagements. However, we must hope for the best, that's all!
A Maiden Aunt(to Second Ditto). Exactly what struckme, Martha.Onewaiter would have been quite sufficient, and if Jamesmustbe grand and give champagne, he might have given us a littlemoreof it; I'm sure I'd little else but foam inmyglass! And every plate as cold as a stone, and you and I the only people who were not considered worthy of silver forks, and the children encouraged to behave as they please, and Joseph Podmore made such a fuss with, because he's well off—and not enough sweetbread to go the round. Ah, well, thank goodness, we needn't dine here for another year!
Mr. Chipperfield(at the door). Sorry to cut you short in your cigar, Uncle, and you, Limpett; but fact is, being Christmas night, I thought we'd come up a little sooner and all have a bit of a romp.... Well, Emily, my dear, here we are, all of us—ready for anything in the way of a frolic—what's it to be? Forfeits, games, Puss in the Corner, something to cheer us all up, eh? Won't any one make a suggestion?
[General expression of gloomy blankness.
Algernon(to his Fiancée—whom he wants to see shine). Zeffie, you know no end of games—what's that one you played at home, with potatoes and a salt-spoon,youknow?
Zeffie(blushing). No,please, Algy! I don't knowanygames, indeed, I couldn'treally!
Mr. C.Uncle Joseph will set us going, I'm sure—what doyousay, Uncle?
Uncle Joseph.Well, I won't say "no" to a quiet rubber.
Mrs. C.But, you see, we can'tallplay in that, and thereisa pack of cards in the house somewhere; but I know two of the aces are gone, and I don't think all the court cards were there the last time we played. Still, if you can manage with what is left, we might get up a game for you.
Uncle J.(grimly). Thank you, my dear, but, on the whole, I think I would almost rather romp—
Mr. C.Uncle Joseph votes for romping! What do you say to Dumb Crambo? Great fun—half of us go out, and come in on all-fours, to rhyme to "cat," or "bat," or something—youcan play that, Limpett?
Mr. Limpett.If Imustfind a rhyme to cat, I prefer, so soon after dinner, not to go on all-fours for it, I confess.
Mr. C.Well, let's have something quieter, then—onlydosettle. Musical Chairs, eh?
Algy.Zeffie will play the piano for you—she plays beautifully.
Zeffie.Not without notes, Algy, and I forgot to bring my music with me. Shall we play "Consequences"? It's a very quiet game—you play it sitting down, with paper and pencil, you know!
Mr. Limpett(sardonically, and sotto voce). Ah, this is somethinglikea rollick now. "Consequences," eh?
Algy(who has overheard—in a savage undertone). If that isn't good enough for you, suggest something better—or shut up!
[Mr. L.prefers the latter alternative.
Mr. C.Now, then, have you given everybody a piece of paper, Emily? Caroline, you're going to play—we can't leaveyouout of it.
Aunt Caroline.No, James, I'd rather look on, and see you all enjoying yourselves—I'venoanimal spirits now!
Mr. C.Oh, nonsense! Christmas-time, you know. Let's be jolly while we can—give her a pencil, Emily!
Aunt C.No, I can't, really. You must excuse me. I know I'm a wet blanket; but, when I think that I mayn't be with you another Christmas, we maymostof us be dead by then, why—(sobs).
Fred(the Family Failure). That's right, Mater—trust you to see the humorous side of everything!
Another Aunt.For shame, Fred! If you don't know who is responsible for your poor mother's low spirits, others do!
[The Family Failure collapses
Mr. Limpett.Well, as we've all got pencils, is there any reason why the revelry should not commence?
Mr. C.No—don't let's waste any more time. Miss Zeffie says she will write down on the top of her paper "Who met whom" (must be a Lady and Gentleman in the party, you know), then she folds it down, and passes it on to the next, who writes, "What he said to her"—the next, "What she said to him"—next, "What the consequences were," and the last, "What the world said." Capital game—first-rate. Now, then!
[The whole party pass papers in silence from one to another, and scribble industriously with knitted brows.
Mr. C.Time's up, all of you. I'll read the first paper aloud. (Glances at it, and explodes.) He-he!—this is really very funny. (Reads.) "Uncle Joseph met Aunt Caroline at the—ho—ho!—the Empire! He said to her, 'What are the wild waves saying!' and she said to him, 'It's time you were taken away!' The consequences were that they both went and had their hair cut, and the world said they had always suspected there was something between them!"
Uncle J.I consider that a piece of confounded impertinence!
[Puffs.
Aunt C.It's not true. Inevermet Joseph at the Empire. I don't go to such places. Ididn'tthink I should be insulted like this—(Weeps)—on Christmas too!
Aunts' Chorus.Fredagain!
[They regard theFamily Failureindignantly.
Mr. C.There, there, it was all fun—no harm meant. I'll read the next. "Mr. Limpett met Miss Zeffie in the Burlington Arcade. He said to her, 'O, you little duck!' She said to him, 'Fowls are cheap to-day!' The consequences were that they never smiled again, and the world said, 'What price hot potatoes?'" (Everybody looks depressed.) H'm—not bad—but I think we'll play something else now.
[Zeffieperceives thatAlgyis not pleased with her.
Tommy(toUncle Joseph). Uncle, why didn'tyoucarve at dinner?
Uncle J.Well, Tommy, because the carving was done at a side table—and uncommon badly done, too. Why do you want to know?
Tommy.Parpar thought youwouldcarve, I know. He told Mummy she must ask you, because—
Mrs. C.(with a prophetic instinct). Now, Tommy, you mustn't tease your Uncle. Come away, and tell your new Aunt Zeffie what you're going to do with your Christmas boxes.
Tommy.But mayn't I tell him what Parpar said, first?
Mrs. C.No, no; by and by—not now! [She averts the danger.
[Later; the Company are playing "Hide the Thimble"; i.e., someone has planted that article in a place so conspicuous that few would expect to find it there. As each person catches sight of it, he or she sits down.Uncle Josephis still, to the general merriment, wandering about and getting angrier every moment.
Mr. C.That's it, Uncle, you'rewarm—you'regettingwarm!
Uncle J.(boiling over).Warm, Sir?I amwarm—and something more, I can tell you! [Sits down with a bump.
Mr. C.You haven'tseenit! I'm sure you haven't seen it. Come now, Uncle!
"Warm, SIR? I am WARM—AND SOMETHING MORE!""Warm, SIR? I am WARM—AND SOMETHING MORE!"
Uncle J.Never mind whether I have or have not. Perhaps I don'twantto see it, Sir!
The Children.Then do you give it up? Do you want to be told? Why, it's staring you in the face all the time!
Uncle J.I don't care whether it's staring or not—I don't want to be told anything more about it.
The Children.Then you'recheating, Uncle—you must go on walking till youdosee it!
Uncle J.Oh, that's it, eh? Very well, then—I'll walk!
[Walks out, leaving the company paralysed.
Mrs. C.Run after him, Tommy, and tell him—quick!
[ExitTommy.
Mr. C.(feebly). I think when Uncle Joseph does come back, we'd better try to think of some game hecan'tlose his temper at. Ah, here's Tommy!
Tommy.Itoldhim—but he went all the same, and slammed the door. He said I was to go back and tell you that you would find hewascut up—and cut up rough, too!
Mrs. C.But what did you tellhim?
Tommy.Why, only that Parpar asked him to come to-night because he was sure to cut up well. You said I might!
[Sensation;Prompt departure ofTommyfor bed;moralising by Aunts;a spirit of perfect candour prevails;names are called—also cabs;further hostilities postponed till next Christmas.
Scene—The Serpentine. On the bank, several persons are having their skates put on; practised Skaters being irritable and impatient, and others curiously the reverse, at any delay in the operation.
Chorus of Unemployed Skate-Fasteners.'Oo'll 'ave a pair on for an hour? Good Sport to-day, Sir! Try a pair on, Mum! (to any particularly stout Lady). Will yer walk intermyporler, Sir? corpet all the w'y! 'Ad the pleasure o' puttin' on your skites last year, Miss! Best skates in London, Sir! [Exhibiting a primæval pair.
The Usual Comic Cockney(to his Friend, who has undertaken to instruct him). No'urry, old man—this joker ain'tarffinished with me yet! (ToSkate-Fastener.) Easy with that jimlet, Guv'nor. My 'eel ain't 'orn, like a 'orse's 'oof! If you're goin' to strap me up as toight as all that, I shell 'ave to go tobedin them skites!... Well, what is itnow?
Skate-Fastener.Reg'lar thing fur Gen'lm'n as 'ires skates ter leave somethink be'ind, jest as security like—anythink'll do—a gold watch and chain, if yer got sech a thing about yer!
The C. C.Oh, I dessay—notme!
Skate-F.(wounded). Why, yer needn't be afroid!Ishorn't run away—you'll findme'ere when yer come back!
The C. C.Ah, thatwillbe noice! But all the sime, a watch is a thing that slips out of mind so easy, yer know. You might go and forgit all about it. 'Ere's a match-box instead; it ain't silver!
Skate-F.(with respect). Ah, youdoknow the world,youdo!
The C. C.Now, Alf, old man, I'm ready for yer! Give us 'old of yer 'and.... Go slow now. What's the Vestry about not to put some graveldown 'ere? It's downright dangerous! Whoo-up! Blowed if I ain't got some other party's legs on!... Sloide more? Whadjer torking about! I'm sloidin' every way at once,Iam!... Stroike out? I've struck sparks enough out of the back o' my 'ed, if that's all!... Git up? Ketch me! I'm a deal syfer settin' dayown, and I'll sty 'ere! [He stays.
A Nervous Skater(hobbling cautiously down the bank—to Friend). I—I don't know how I shallbein these, you know—haven't had a pair on for years. (Striking out.) Well, come—(relieved)—skating's one of those things you never forget—all a question of poise and equi—confound the things! No, I'm all right, thanks—lump in the ice, that's all! As I was saying, skating soon comes back to—thought I was gone that time! Stick by me, old fellow, till I begin to feel my—Oh, hang itall!... Eh? surely we have been on more than five minutes! Worst of skating is, your feet get so cold!... Thesearebeastly skates. Did you hear that crack? Well,youmay stay on if you like, but I'm not going to riskmylife for a few minutes' pleasure! [He returns to bank.
The Fond Mother(from bank, toChildrenon the ice). That's right. Alma, you're doing itbeautifully—don'twalkso much! (ToFrench Governess). Alma fay bocoo de progray, may elle ne glisse assez—nayse par, Ma'amzell?
Mademoiselle.C'est Ella qui est la plus habile, elle patine dejà très bien—et avec un aplomb!
The F. M.Wee-wee; may Ella est la plus viaile, vous savvy. Look at Ella, Alma, and see howshedoes it!
Mad.Vous marchez toujours—toujours, Alma; tâchez donc de glisser un petit peu—c'est beaucoup plus facile!
Alma.Snay pas facile quand vous avez les skates toutes sur un côté—commemoi, Ma'amzell!
F. M.Ne repondy à Ma'amzell, Alma, and watch Ella!
Ella.Regardez-moi, Alma. Je puis voler vîte—oh, mais vîte ... oh Ihavehurt myself so!
Alma(with sisterly sympathy.)That'swhat comes of trying to showoff, Ella, darling! [Ellais helped to the bank.
"SNAY PAS FACILE QUAND VOUS AVEZ LES SKATES TOUTES SUR UN CÔTÉ—COMME MOI!""SNAY PAS FACILE QUAND VOUS AVEZ LES SKATES TOUTES SUR UN CÔTÉ—COMME MOI!"