Chapter IV: Part 4

MAJOR. Suspicions? Come, I like that, when I have the proofs--you hear, madam, the proofs of your misconduct!--this letter, madam! this letter! (_producing letter and flourishing it_).

MRS. P. A letter!

MAJOR. Yes! listen, and shudder! (_taking letter out of envelope, which he lets fall on stage, then reading in an impressive tone_). "Star of my life, idol of my heart!" That's pretty well to begin with! (_Reading again._) "Ever since the God of Love first presented you to my enraptured orbs!" (_Aside._) What does the fellow mean by "orbs?" (_Reading again._) "I have loved you"--point of admiration; here it is, there's no mistake about the point of admiration! (_showing letter to MRS. P. and DOCTOR_). But that's not all! (_Reads again._) "In order to bask in your divine presence, I am prepared to sweep every obstacle from my path." There's a sanguinary ruffian! Of course _I_'m one of the obstacles to be swept away!

MRS. P. And how is the letter signed?

MAJOR. There _is_ no signature!

FANNY (_aside_). That's fortunate! (_picking up the envelope unseen and putting it in her pocket_).

MAJOR (_to MRS. MAJOR_). Now, madam, what have you to say?

MRS. MAJOR. Simply this, that I am more than ever indignant at your preposterous and odious suspicions.

FANNY (_suddenly confronting MAJOR_). So am I! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Jeremiah! and so ought you, mamma, and so ought everybody! And what's more, I'm determined that poor, dear, innocent Georgina shall be no longer unjustly accused!

MRS. P. } } What's that? MAJOR. }

FANNY. I dare say I shall be scolded, but I'm used to that; in fact, I rather like it; and after all it was sure to be found out sooner or later; in a word--that letter--

MRS. P. Well?

FANNY. Was intended for _me!_

MRS. MAJOR (_aside to her_). Fanny!

FANNY (_aside to her_). Hush! I'm engaged in a little business of _my own_ now!

MRS. P. For you?

FANNY. Yes! although I particularly told him not to write to me.

MRS. P. Told him? Told _who?_

FANNY. Augustus!

MRS. P. Who's Augustus?

FANNY. _My_ Augustus, of course!

MRS. MAJOR. I can confirm Fanny's words, having been in possession of the whole particulars for the last hour.

MAJOR. Have you? Then, perhaps, you can furnish us with Augustus's other name--_if_ he's got one (_satirically_).

MRS. MAJOR. Certainly--Noodle.

FANNY (_very quickly_). No--Boodle!

DOCTOR. Augustus Boodle? Let me see! of course! I first met him at Cheltenham!

FANNY. So did I.

DOCTOR. He was only a lad then, and was going into the army--to distinguish himself, as he said.

FANNY. I can't say whether he did distinguish _himself,_ but I know that he very soon distinguished _me!_

DOCTOR. The Boodles of Gloucestershire. There's not a more respected family in the county! Come, my dear Mrs. Pelican, if you'll take my advice, you'll not hesitate in accepting Augustus Noodle--I mean Boodle--as a son-in-law!

MRS. P. Well, I'll think the matter over, and then, perhaps, I may say yes.

FANNY (_coaxingly_). Suppose you say yes first, mamma, and think the matter over afterwards?

MRS. P. (_ironically_). But, Fanny, what about a certain party of "_maturer years,_" on whose _experience_ you proposed to rely?

FANNY. Let me ask you, mamma, would it have been dutiful in a daughter to deprive her mother of the object of her early affection?

MAJOR. What's that? "Early affection!"--"object!"

MRS. P. Yes; there stands the object (_pointing to DOCTOR_). In a word, I have been induced to accept the hand of Doctor Prettywell, from his many amiable qualities and (_aside to DOCTOR_) his _constancy._ Here, Vicessimus (_holding her hand out to him_).

DOCTOR. Thanks, Cleopatra (_taking her hand and kissing it_).

MAJOR (_very timidly to MRS. MAJOR_). Georgina, can you forgive your Jeremiah? I don't know how I may _look,_ but you've no idea how _small_ I feel.

MRS. MAJOR. This once I do! but remember, this once _only._ There (_giving her hand to MAJOR_).

MAJOR. Then, in spite of all petty domestic discords, everybody is happy at last.

FANNY. Which only proves the truth of the old adage, that "After a storm comes a calm."

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

EXPRESS!

_A Railway Romance, in One Compartment._

(_Adapted from the French._)

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

A LADY.

A GENTLEMAN.

A RAILWAY GUARD.

[The action is supposed to take place in a first-class railway-carriage, travelling on a certain line between a certain place and another certain place.]

SCENE.--_A plain interior, supposed to represent a compartment in a first-class railway-carriage; door in flat at C.--the entrance--four easy-chairs placed two and two opposite the others, representing the seats--on the second chair at L. H. an open newspaper._

_The actor playing the part of the gentleman enters at door C. in light overcoat, with travelling-bag, hat-box, and railway-rug over his arm; he places the bag, hat-box, and rug on first chair, L. H., and advances, cap in hand, and, after sundry bows, proceeds to explain the scene to the audience._ Ladies and gentlemen: The little piece we are about to present to you is supposed to take place in a first-class compartment of a railway-carriage, travelling express from--from--Plymouth to London; shall we say Plymouth to London?--very well--Plymouth to London. You will also be good enough to see in the humble individual who is now addressing you, a deputy-assistant-deputy-inspector of Government prisons, returning from an official visit to that well-known and, judging from the constant stream of applications for admission, highly popular convict establishment at--at--Dartmouth; shall we say Dartmouth?--be it so, we'll say Dartmouth! Our first idea, in order to impart a greater reality to the situation, was to place before you a regular train with locomotive, etc., etc., all complete, and for this purpose we applied to a certain railway company for the loan of one; but the secretary, in reply, said that the only materials he could offer us were cattle-trucks and coal-wagons, all the passenger rolling-stock being in requisition, owing to the unusual number they had smashed up during the year. He certainly offered us the use of an engine, but at the same time candidly gave us to understand that it was a little bit rusty, and wouldn't stand the slightest pressure; he further added that if the knob of the steam-whistle _should_ happen to knock out the front teeth of any of the audience, we were not to blame _him_ if we had a few compensation actions to sustain!--and so on! Altogether the alternative was so dismal that we decided on sacrificing a flaming line in our play-bill about "flashing express," "real steam," "genuine foot-warmers," which we had composed for the occasion, and to fall back upon the best scene that our stage-carpenter and property-man could prepare for us.

We must, therefore, ask you to bring your imaginations to our aid, and to fancy you see in that door and in these four easy-chairs the interior of a first-class compartment of a railway-carriage, and to imagine further that I have passed the night in one of them, and am at the present moment still enjoying a profound sleep.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, permit me to enter into my part, to seat myself in the snuggest corner I can find, and to resume my interrupted nap! (_makes a profound bow to audience, goes up stage, and seats himself on the first chair, L. H.; puts on his travelling-cap, wraps himself up in the railway-rug, after having placed on the second chair, L., his travelling-bag, a railway guide, and a paper-knife; he then yawns once or twice, then falls asleep, and after a time snores gently. Loud noise of train arriving, with steam-engine, railway-bell, and whistle, as the train is supposed to arrive and gradually to stop_).

GUARD (_heard without_). Reading! Change here for Guildford, Dorking, Reigate, Redhill!

VOICE (_without_). Guard, how long do we stop here?

GUARD (_without_). Ten minutes, sir! (_Cries of "Reading; change here," etc., etc., etc., repeated, and gradually diminishing, accompanied by noise of slamming doors, etc._)

GENTLEMAN (_starting from his sleep_). What's that? Who speaks of stopping? I wonder what the time is? (_Looks at watch._) Seven o'clock? (_Opens door and looks out._) Broad daylight, I declare (_closing door again_); then I must have slept the best part of the night! I don't even remember my travelling companion getting out; he seems to have forgotten his newspaper (_taking up paper from chair_). Not a very talkative fellow; in fact, he never opened his mouth, except to put something into it--principally Abernethys and peppermint-drops. By Jove, his _Daily News_ is full of crumbs and caraways now!--a regular pantry!

GUARD (_again heard without_). Reading! Ten minutes to stop!

GENTLEMAN. Ten minutes to stop? Then I may as well get out and stretch my legs a bit (_rises, puts railway-rug, guide, and travelling-bag on his seat, and goes to door C.; then calls_). Guard, whereabouts is the refreshment-bar?

GUARD (_without_). This way, sir (_GENTLEMAN goes out at door C. towards R. H.--short pause_).

_The LADY looks in at C. and stops; then enters with two small
parcels and a bonnet-box._

LADY. Yes; all things considered, I decidedly prefer this carriage to the ladies' compartment, where there's only room for one, and then what should I do with my packages? Besides, ladies are not so _remarkably_ agreeable among themselves; while here-- (_looking about her_). Let me see, which corner shall I take? I think this will do (_indicating the seat which the GENTLEMAN has just left_); one's face to the engine, and not so likely to be troubled by people getting in and out; yes, this will do very well indeed! (_during this she removes the GENTLEMAN'S effects from first chair L. H. to the opposite chair at R._) And after all, provided one has a _gentleman_ for a travelling companion, a host of these little difficulties soon disappear! (_Seats herself on first chair L. H._). There! I shall do very nicely here--very nicely indeed! (_Here the GENTLEMAN appears outside at door C._) Some one's coming! one of the opposite sex! I _hope_ a gentleman. Suppose I pretend to be asleep? I will! I'll shut my eyes, and then I shall be able to judge of his appearance! (_wraps herself up so as to conceal her face, and pretends to be asleep_).

GENTLEMAN (_entering at door and stamping his feet_). I feel all the better! Thanks to a glass of sherry and half a dozen rapid turns up and down the platform, the circulation is re-established; so now for another dose of pins and needles. Holloa! what's this?--my seat taken, and all my things bundled away anyhow on another seat! Well, of all the cool proceedings-- (_To the LADY._) I beg pardon, madam, but-- Asleep? Rather a sudden attack of drowsiness, considering she can't have been here more than five minutes! However, she's a lady--at least she looks like one, though she _is_ such a cool hand, and I can't be so ungallant as to turn her out, especially as she looks so snug and comfortable! I must take another corner! (_He seats himself on second chair at L. H., partly turning his back to the LADY._)

LADY (_aside and partly uncovering her face_). I knew these little difficulties would soon arrange themselves! (_wraps herself up as before_).

GENTLEMAN (_fidgeting about in his seat_). I was much more comfortable in my own seat. There was a nice hollow for one's back there; but here there's a confounded lump that's positively painful! I must confess I have found that women in general haven't the slightest hesitation in taking advantage of one if they possibly can. Here's an instance; just as I had got used to my seat, in comes one of the weaker sex and turns me out bag and baggage! They know their power, and abuse it: too bad! Now (_looking aside at LADY_) if my neighbor were but young--and pretty into the bargain--but no; catch a woman wrapping herself up like that when she _is_ young (_gaping_) and pretty! (_His head nods once or twice, and he falls asleep._)

GUARD (_without_). Take your seats! Any more going on?

LADY (_cautiously peeping at GENTLEMAN, then uncovering, and aside_). So it seems I shall have no other travelling companion but this gentleman! (_Here loud railway-whistle heard, and noise of train starting._) We're off. (_Looking at GENTLEMAN again._) I must say he appears to be perfectly harmless and inoffensive. (_GENTLEMAN snores._) What did he say? (_A louder snore from GENTLEMAN_). Well, if that's a specimen of his conversation, it isn't likely to compromise one! (_Another snore._) I may as well go to sleep myself, and then, perhaps, I may be able to join in the _conversation_ too! (_Wraps herself up, but this time allows her face to remain uncovered; closes her eyes; pause._)

GENTLEMAN (_suddenly waking and shifting his position_). Decidedly, of all the uncomfortable seats this is the most uncomfortable. I _should_ like to know what they stuff their cushions with; I feel as if I'd got a quartern loaf at my back! (_Taking a rapid glance at LADY, then, in a savage tone._) _She_ seems comfortable enough! How absurd--how ridiculous of me not to have demanded--not to have in-sis-ted. (_Looking again at LADY._) By Jove, she _is_ young! and by no means bad-looking! Bad-looking! she's pretty--_very_ pretty--_excessively_ pretty! and to think I should have actually gone to sleep in her presence! One never knows what one does in one's sleep; luckily, I never snore; that's one comfort! (_Takes off his travelling-cap, arranges his hair, cravat, etc._) How soundly she sleeps--if she _does_ sleep! (_in doubt_). When one is _really_ asleep--I mean _fast_ asleep--it isn't usual to wear a smile on one's face; on the contrary, one's face generally gets ugly! I'll be bound that just now I was positively hideous! (_He coughs loudly, the LADY moves._) She wakes! (_Suddenly and loudly._) What a beautiful country! what a lovely green on those meadows! (_LADY keeps silence._) I'll try again! (_Still louder._) How unusually beautiful are the autumn tints, especially so early in the spring! (_Pause; aside._) No response? She must have taken a sleeping draught!

LADY (_pretending to wake_). A thousand pardons, sir; did you speak?

GENTLEMAN. I was merely observing what a lovely meadow on those greens! I mean (_another pause_) I hear the harvest is likely to be a plentiful one, although I'm told that turnips are backward; I haven't heard anything about carrots.

LADY (_in an indifferent tone_). I beg pardon; were you speaking to me? (_Aside._) Some gentleman farmer, evidently.

GENTLEMAN (_nettled, and imitating her--aside_). "Were you speaking to me?" I rather think I _was_ speaking to her! Holloa! she's off to sleep again! No one can call _her_ particularly wide-awake. Well, since she's off into land of dreams again, I don't see why I shouldn't indulge in a cigarette (_takes out some cigarette papers, tobacco pouch, spreads them on his knees and proceeds to make a cigarette; then stops_). Stop, though! I can't smoke without first asking her permission; of course not! (_Aloud, and coughing._) Ahem! (_Watching her._) Sound as a top! Try again! (_Coughing louder._) Ahem! (_The LADY opens her eyes and moves impatiently--aside._) That did it!

GENTLEMAN (_apologetically_). My cough is rather troublesome, ma'am.

LADY. I find it so--very!

GENTLEMAN (_aside_). Well! that's about the rudest thing I've heard for some time! (_Aloud._) I was about to ask you whether you object to the smell of tobacco?

LADY. Oh, not at all, sir!

GENTLEMAN. Thank you! (_proceeds to make his cigarette, and about to light it_).

LADY. I mean, not till it's lighted!

GENTLEMAN. Oh, I see; and then you do?

LADY. Very much, indeed!

GENTLEMAN. Even when you are asleep? (_in an insinuating tone_).

LADY (_slowly and decisively_). Whether I am awake _or_ asleep, sir!

GENTLEMAN (_aside_). Now that's what I call selfish--just as if the smoke _could_ get up her nose when her eyes are shut! (_putting away his smoking apparatus. Aside_). I must say I _have_ met more agreeable young ladies--_very much_ more agreeable--in fact, I may say I never remember meeting one _less_ agreeable. Well, I sha'n't disturb the "Sleeping Beauty" again in a hurry. Now for another nap! (_sulkily crams smoking apparatus into his pocket, draws his cap very much over his head, stands up, folds himself up in his rug, and then flounces down on his seat again, partially turning his back to the LADY_).

LADY. (_slowly turning her head and taking a glance at GENTLEMAN_). Well, I must confess he put away his smoking apparatus with a very good grace! (_Sees newspaper._) Some one has left a newspaper! (_Taking newspaper and reading._) Um, um! _Plymouth Gazette._ "Foreign News," "Paris Fashions," "Early Strawberries." What's this? "Escape of a convict. We learn that Benjamin Burkshaw, a criminal of the most desperate character, effected his escape from Dartmoor prison yesterday. The following is his description: Age, not exactly known; eyes, nothing peculiar; wears a long black beard--has probably cut it off; walks slightly lame with one leg, uncertain which; supposed to have directed his steps towards London, or in some other direction." Dear me! it is just possible he may be in this very train! (_looking aside at the GENTLEMAN, then reading again_). "Middle height" (_looking again at GENTLEMAN_); "inclined to be stout" (_another look at GENTLEMAN_); he's so rolled up in his rug one can't judge! (_Reads again._) "Slightly bald, with a scar on left side of forehead" (_here the GENTLEMAN in his sleep hastily pulls his travelling-cap over his forehead; the LADY gives a sudden start, and recoils as far as possible from the GENTLEMAN_). How very suddenly he pulled his cap over his forehead--and the left side of it too! Pshaw! how foolish, how absurd of me! (_Reads paper again, and then closes her eyes once more._)

GENTLEMAN (_rousing himself_). It's no use! I can't get a wink of sleep, except by fits and starts--principally starts! (_Looking at LADY._) Still asleep! and no book to read except this "Illustrated Guide through England and Wales." However, that's better than "Bradshaw." (_During above he has taken a book out of his bag, and cuts the leaves with a paper-knife; turns over leaves._) What's this? (_Reads._) "Maidenhead. It was in the neighborhood of this picturesque town that the famous Dick Turpin--" (_Here the LADY and GENTLEMAN are suddenly thrown forward._)

LADY (_alarmed_). What a shock! Has anything happened?

GENTLEMAN (_indifferently_). Nothing of consequence! merely the train passing over something--or somebody!

LADY (_aside_). Rather an unfeeling remark! (_Aloud._) Can you tell me where we are, sir? I am quite a stranger to this line.

GENTLEMAN. We _should_ be near Slough. You may not be aware, madam, that it was here that--(_taking a peep aside at his book_)--"that the famous Dick Turpin"--you've heard of Dick Turpin, of course--the celebrated highwayman? (_LADY shakes her head_). Well, it was here that he was in the habit of spending his leisure hours--I mean when he'd nothing better to do--in--in (_taking another peep at book_)--"in planting potatoes!"--Poor Dick! my great-grandfather saw him hanged!

LADY (_shocked_). Hanged?

GENTLEMAN. Yes--I forget exactly what for--something about putting an old lady on the kitchen fire!

LADY (_indignantly_). Surely, never was a fate more richly deserved!

GENTLEMAN. On the contrary, she was quite a respectable sort of old body!

LADY (_aloud, and in a satirical tone_). Thanks, sir, for your kind and _interesting_ information!

GENTLEMAN (_modestly_). Don't mention it, I beg!

LADY (_aside_). A newspaper correspondent, perhaps! I prefer that to a farmer!

GENTLEMAN (_after a short pause_). I find the sun rather too warm on this side of the carriage, madam--will it inconvenience you if I take this seat? (_indicating first chair at R._).

LADY. Not in the least! Indeed, I should have the less right to object, as I am afraid I have appropriated _yours;_ and by far the more comfortable one, I suspect!

GENTLEMAN. You simply foresaw that I should offer it to you, madam!

LADY. Oh, sir! (_bowing_).

GENTLEMAN. Oh, madam! (_bowing; he removes things from where the LADY had placed them, and seats himself opposite to her_).

LADY (_aside_). Really a very pleasant, agreeable fellow!

GENTLEMAN (_aside_). Her full face is even better than her profile! (_Aloud, and in a sentimental tone._) Ah, madam! would it were in my power to prolong this pleasant journey--this delightful _tête-à-tête!_

LADY (_with dignity_). Sir!

GENTLEMAN (_aside_). That's no go! (_Aloud._) I mean, madam, that one seems to travel _too_ fast nowadays! (_LADY expresses surprise._) In fact, we're _all_ too fast!

LADY (_severely_). Sir!

GENTLEMAN (_aside_). _That's_ no go! (_Aloud._) We've only to contrast the present with the time when the wife of one of our ancient kings traversed the whole of England by easy stages of five miles a day!

LADY. Of whom do you speak?

GENTLEMAN. Of--of-- (_Aside._) Hang me if I know! (_Aloud._) Of Tabitha--I mean Elgitha, the wife of--Edmund--Sobersides--I should say Ironsides! But without going quite so far back, madam, I confess I often regret the days of those heavy old stage-coaches called "High-flyers," "Eclipses," and "Rockets."

LADY (_smiling_). Because they went so slowly?

GENTLEMAN. Precisely. Still, it had its advantages--it gave one an opportunity to make the acquaintance of one's travelling companions--to establish a friendly feeling--perhaps one of a more _tender_ nature! (_with a tender look at the LADY_).

LADY (_with a stare of astonishment_). Sir!

GENTLEMAN (_aside_). It's no use. I won't try any more! (_Aloud, and in a more colloquial tone._) Besides, in a stage-coach there was always the chance of one of those little adventures that so often happened on the road!

LADY. You mean attacks by highwaymen, such as your _friend_ Mr.--Turpin--who had a weakness for putting respectable old ladies on the kitchen fire? (_smiling satirically--then, changing her tone_). I remember myself a certain event which happened some five or six years ago when we were travelling.

GENTLEMAN. _We?_ You and your pa and ma, probably?

LADY. My husband and I!

GENTLEMAN. Husband? you are married, ma'am! actually, positively married?

LADY. Alas, sir! (_sighing_).

GENTLEMAN (_aside_). I see! an unhappy union!--an ill-assorted match--poor soul! (_Aloud._) Ah, madam, you are not the only one of your too confiding sex who have found marriage a bed of roses--I mean, of nettles, instead of one of nettles--I mean roses!

LADY. But, sir--you mistake--alas, sir, I am a widow!

GENTLEMAN. A widow? I'm delighted to hear it! No, I'm not! of course not! I deeply sympathize with you--as I always do with widows--I know what it is myself. But you mustn't give way--you'll get used to it in time--like the eels--no, not like the eels--but you were about to mention some adventure which happened to you while travelling with--the late lamented. (_Noise heard of train gradually stopping--engine, railway-bell, whistle, etc._)

VOICE (_outside, gradually approaching_). "Slough! Slough! change for Windsor; all tickets ready."

GENTLEMAN (_angrily_). All tickets ready! these railway companies are perfectly absurd, with their mania for examining tickets! (_feeling in his pocket_).

LADY (_smiling_). Another advantage of the good old coaching days!

GENTLEMAN. Yes, quite so! (_feeling again in his pockets, one after the other_). Ah! here it is--no, it isn't--how very odd; now I've got it--no, I haven't! (_diving in his pockets again_).

LADY. I'm afraid you've lost your ticket, sir.

GENTLEMAN. Oh no! I haven't _lost_ it--only I can't find it!

LADY. You may have dropped it? (_looking about on floor_).

GENTLEMAN. Pray don't trouble yourself; I shall be sure to find it--(_aside_) as soon as I've paid for another! (_Aloud._) I'll just speak to the station-master. Excuse me a moment? (_LADY bows, GENTLEMAN exit at C., and disappears towards L. H._)

LADY. Poor fellow! no wonder he dislikes railways if he's in the habit of losing his ticket every time he travels!

_GUARD appears at door C._

GUARD (_to LADY_). Ticket, please, ma'am? (_Takes ticket, and returns it to LADY._) Thank you, ma'am. (_Seeing the GENTLEMAN'S bag, etc., on seat._) These things belong to you, ma'am?

LADY. Oh no!

GUARD. Has any one left this carriage?

LADY. Yes! a gentleman--not a minute ago.

GUARD (_sulkily_). How can I examine people's tickets when they get out at every station?

LADY. He fancies he has lost his ticket.

GUARD (_suspiciously_). Lost his ticket?--what a pity! (_Aside._) That's an old dodge! (_Aloud._) Is the gentleman one of your party, ma'am?

LADY. Oh dear no! only so far as we are journeying in the same compartment.

GUARD (_examining the GENTLEMAN'S bag_). No name on his travelling-bag--that's queer! We're expected to keep both eyes open on this line, ma'am--only yesterday we nabbed a desperate bank forger at this very station; and we're on the lookout for an escaped convict to-day!

LADY (_aside_). An escaped convict? that dreadful Mr. Burkshaw, no doubt? Not a very cheerful subject of conversation--I'm really getting quite nervous! (_collecting her packages and rising_).

GUARD. Going to get out, ma'am?

LADY. Yes, I should prefer the ladies' compartment.

GUARD. No room there, ma'am; eight of 'em already, besides babies!

LADY. I may get into another carriage, I presume?

GUARD. Certainly, ma'am. Good-day, ma'am (_goes out at door_).

LADY. Stop! stop! Help me out! Guard! guard! (_calling_).

GUARD (_outside_). Can't stop now, ma'am. Train just going on.

LADY. This is really too bad! Can't even change carriages on this line, which seems to be especially patronized by the criminal classes! But pshaw! I'm alarming myself unnecessarily. Is it likely that this gentleman--and he _is_ a gentleman--who seems to be on intimate terms with the wife of Edmund Ironsides--can possibly have any connection with-- How absurd of me! I really ought to be ashamed of myself. (_Seeing the paper-knife which the GENTLEMAN has left on seat._) What a strange-looking paper-knife--quite a formidable weapon! _Is_ it a paper-knife? it looks more like a stiletto! (_Taking up paper-knife very carefully between her finger and thumb, and then quickly dropping it again_). Such an instrument as that was never made to cut _leaves!_ It looks much adapted to-- (_Shuddering._) How ridiculous of me! My silly fears are running away with me again. Ha, ha, ha! (_forcing a laugh_).

GUARD (_without_). Take your seats!

_GENTLEMAN hurries in at C. The LADY suddenly stops laughing, and
gets as far as she can into her corner._

GENTLEMAN. I've found my ticket! I knew I should the moment I bought another. (_Takes his seat. To the LADY_). Where do you suppose it was?--you'll never guess. In my purse, where I always put my tickets! Ha, ha, ha!

LADY (_aside_). He _had_ a ticket, then?

GENTLEMAN. It is very kind of you to interest yourself in the misfortunes of a stranger (_bowing_).

LADY. Is it not natural?

GENTLEMAN. It seems to be so to _you,_ madam (_bowing again and moving a little towards LADY, who retreats_).

LADY (_aside_). If I could only induce him to remove his travelling-cap--not that I should discover the slightest scar on _his_ forehead--I should then be completely reassured. (_Suddenly._) Pardon me--is not that a friend of yours bowing to you on the other platform? (_indicating the audience_).

GENTLEMAN. Bowing to me? where? (_putting his hand to his cap_).

LADY (_pointing_). There! (_Aside._) Now for it!

GENTLEMAN (_lowering his hand again without removing his cap_). No, ma'am, I don't know him; besides, he's not bowing to me.

LADY (_aside_). That's a failure!

GENTLEMAN. Holloa! Somebody's been moving my things!

LADY. Yes, the guard!--he seemed curious--I might say _anxious_--to ascertain if your name was on your travelling-bag!

GENTLEMAN. Very inquisitive of him! Why should I make my name public property?--there may be reasons why I should _not!_--pressing reasons! You can understand that, madam?

LADY. Y--es! I'm afraid I can--I mean, of course I can!

GENTLEMAN. But, as I was saying, the interest you have so kindly taken in me--a perfect stranger--

LADY (_very quickly_). Not at all, sir; on the contrary! No--that is--

GENTLEMAN. Permit me to continue. That interest, I repeat, comes naturally to _you,_ blessed, as I'm sure you are, with so sweet, so gentle, so affectionate a disposition.

LADY (_very quickly_). Quite the reverse, I assure you, sir--I've a dreadful temper!

GENTLEMAN. Again: that charming hand is not less characteristic; it requires but one glance at those delicately tapered fingers-- (_About to take her hand; LADY hastily withdraws it._)

LADY (_aside_). I do believe the man's going to make love to me!

GENTLEMAN. But stay: I see one line here that is singularly prominent; permit me (_taking LADY'S hand_).

LADY (_aside_). I'm quite at his mercy! Not the slightest use my screaming!

GENTLEMAN (_looking at her hand_). Yes, a very sudden intersection, threatening, I fear, some personal danger.

LADY (_alarmed_). Yes, very likely! (_Aside._) How intently he fixes his eyes on my diamond ring!

GENTLEMAN. But were you not saying that you had once been exposed to some peril in travelling?

LADY. Yes; but I was not _alone_ then.

GENTLEMAN. The "late lamented," I presume?

LADY. Yes; we were attacked by robbers in crossing the Pyrenees! (_Very quickly._) Not that I particularly object to robbers! In fact, I rather like them! (_Aside._) I may as well try what a little flattery will do.

GENTLEMAN (_still holding her hand_). You have a remarkably fine diamond here, madam!

LADY. Yes, a very good _imitation,_ isn't it?

GENTLEMAN. Excuse me. I cannot mistake a diamond--no, no; I've had too many pass through my hands to do that!

LADY (_aside_). I'm afraid he has!

GENTLEMAN. And yet there's a flaw in it--if you'll allow me, I'll point it out to you. (_Looking about, then suddenly taking up the paper-knife; the LADY screams._) I'm afraid I alarmed you!

LADY (_trying to be calm_). Oh dear no! and if you've quite done examining my hand--

GENTLEMAN. Quite, madam! (_releasing her hand_).

LADY. And you detect no further threatening of--personal danger?

GENTLEMAN. None whatever!

LADY. Then you are a believer in spiritualism and phrenology, and all that sort of thing?

GENTLEMAN. Certainly I am! May I ask, madam, if you have ever examined the head of a criminal?

LADY (_shocked_). Never, sir!

GENTLEMAN. Perhaps you have never even been brought into personal contact with one?

LADY. Certainly not, sir; though I'm sure I should feel the greatest pity for him--I should, indeed! (_in a commiserating tone_).

GENTLEMAN. Understand me; I don't allude to the _milder_ class of criminals, such as thieves, robbers, forgers, burglars, and such like; but one of those desperate fellows who--who--in fact, who _stick at nothing!_ By-the-bye, I have a collection here of photographs of some of our most notorious criminals, which I think would interest you.

LADY (_shuddering_). Yes--intensely!

GENTLEMAN (_opening his travelling-bag_). Ah! (_producing a revolver_) there's rather a curious story connected with this revolver!

LADY (_alarmed, and trying to look unconcerned_). Indeed?

GENTLEMAN. I never travel without one--every chamber loaded and ready for use, so that I have six lives at my disposal--a very comfortable feeling to have! Don't you think so?

LADY. Yes, very much so, indeed!

GENTLEMAN. Here are the photographs (_producing packet_); here is one of them (_about to show a portrait_). No, I make a mistake; this is one of myself.

LADY (_aghast_). Yours?

GENTLEMAN (_smiling_). Yes! this is the one! (_presenting a second portrait_). You'll observe a remarkable protuberance of this part of the skull (_pointing to it_); that's the organ of destructiveness. I have it myself, only not _quite_ so strongly developed! (_touching his head_); don't you perceive it?

LADY. Yes--I--see! But I confess I cannot understand how _you_ happen to be in possession of these _remarkably interesting_--works of art?

GENTLEMAN (_smiling_). A very simple matter--my occupation necessitates my associating with this particular class of "her Majesty's subjects"--as I happen to be--

LADY (_quickly_). Hush! I know! You need not tell me!

GENTLEMAN (_anxiously_). What is the matter? You are positively trembling--with cold, no doubt! Allow me to wrap this rug round you.

LADY. No, no!

GENTLEMAN. Nay, I insist! (_placing his rug round LADY'S feet_).

LADY. But you will feel the want of it yourself, especially as it seems you have passed the night in the train!

GENTLEMAN. Exactly! Six hours ago I was in Dartmoor Prison!

LADY. Dartmoor! (_Aside._) He confesses it!

GENTLEMAN (_smiling_). Not a very attractive residence. I would gladly have left it before, but, unfortunately, I was detained!

LADY. Detained!

GENTLEMAN (_smiling_). I may say _chained_ to it--by my confounded profession!

LADY (_aside_). He calls it a _profession!_

GENTLEMAN. There's no saying how long the Home Secretary might have kept me there; but I couldn't stand it any longer, so I managed to make my escape, and now I'm free once more!

LADY (_suddenly starting up with a scream_). Stop, sir! Don't say any more! Have pity on me, for mercy's sake! (_falling on her knees and clasping her hands_).

GENTLEMAN (_astounded_). My dear madam--

LADY (_hysterically_). I know who you are; I know all about the scar on your forehead! But I won't betray you--I won't, indeed! Here, take my purse!--take my watch! (_thrusting the articles into the GENTLEMAN'S hands_)--_all_ I have, good Mr. Burkshaw!--but spare my life!

GENTLEMAN. Your life? Mr. Burkshaw? What--what do you mean?

LADY. Mercy! mercy!

GENTLEMAN (_seriously_). My dear madam! Pray compose yourself! You have evidently fallen into some strange error; in a word, I happen to be--

LADY. Yes, yes! I know who you happen to be! Take my advice and jump out of the train!

GENTLEMAN (_astonished_). Jump out of the train? Madam, your strange conduct compels me to be serious! In a word, I have the honor to be a Government inspector of prisons!

LADY. Eh? What? You--an inspector of prisons?

GENTLEMAN. Yes, madam (_taking off his cap and bowing to LADY_).

LADY (_eagerly looking at GENTLEMAN'S forehead_). And--you _haven't_ got a scar on your forehead? Oh, sir! if you only knew how delighted I am that you haven't got a scar on your forehead!

GENTLEMAN (_bewildered_). A scar on my forehead? (_feeling his forehead_). But may I ask what has suggested to you all these notions about thieves and robbers?

LADY. Why, you've been talking about nothing else for the last quarter of an hour!

GENTLEMAN (_smiling_). I beg your pardon. You certainly first began the conversation about these--_gentlemen._

LADY. Because you said that you associated with them.

GENTLEMAN. Naturally, as an inspector of prisons.

LADY. Then those portraits--in your possession?

GENTLEMAN. Were taken merely to forward the ends of justice!

LADY (_with a sigh of relief_). I understand it all! I can laugh at my folly now, which entirely arose from this silly newspaper paragraph--the sole cause of all my absurd terror.

GENTLEMAN. What newspaper paragraph?

LADY. Read this, sir (_giving him newspaper_).

GENTLEMAN (_looking at paper, and then giving way to a loud laugh_). Ha, ha, ha! Why, my dear madam, this is quite an old story! Our interesting friend, Mr. Burkshaw, happened to be shot in attempting his escape from Dartmoor more than twelve months ago! (_Looking at date of newspaper._) Of course, this paper is a year old--December, 1884!

LADY. So it is! Oh, sir! what must you think of me?

GENTLEMAN (_in a tender tone_). May I tell you? That you are the most charming travelling companion-- (_Here noise of train stopping, engine, railway-whistle, etc., heard._)

VOICE (_outside_). Paddington! Paddington! (_LADY and GENTLEMAN both rise._)

GENTLEMAN (_gallantly_). I am staying some time in London, madam. Will you permit me to call upon you, if only to remove from your mind any lingering doubt as to my perfect identity?

LADY. With pleasure, sir! (_Suddenly, and in a very gracious tone._) Oh, sir! how _very_ good of you to be a Government inspector of prisons! (_holding out her hand to GENTLEMAN, who takes it and raises it to his lips_).

VOICE (_again heard_). Paddington! (_The GENTLEMAN and LADY gather their packages and bow to each other as the CURTAIN FALLS._)

TAKEN FROM THE FRENCH.

_An Original Comedietta, in One Act._

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

SIR FELIX FRITTERLY.

ARTHUR VALLANCE.

COLONEL COSEY.

LADY FRITTERLY.

MYRTLE VANE.

SCENE.--Sir Felix Fritterly's Country-house.

_A handsomely furnished apartment. Bay-window (practicable) with curtains at R. U. E., conservatory C., doors R. and L., couch at R. C., chairs, piano, etc. COLONEL discovered lying on couch, his handkerchief over his head--ARTHUR VALLANCE in morning costume._

ARTH. (_looking at COLONEL_). Still asleep! And yet I must awake him (_striking a very loud chord on the piano_).

COL. (_pulling handkerchief off his head and sitting bolt upright on couch_). Come in! (_Seeing ARTHUR._) Oh, it's you? For goodness' sake, Arthur, don't make such an infernal noise! Do you want to dislocate that implement of torture?

ARTH. Don't you like it, uncle? I thought you were fond of music!

COL. You don't call that music, do you? (_getting up from couch_). I accept your friend Fritterly's invitation to his country-house for a few weeks' quiet--

ARTH. Well, you've got it, haven't you?

COL. Don't interrupt me (_snappishly_).

ARTH. I was merely anticipating--

COL. Who the deuce wants you to anticipate! Take things as I do, and wait till they come round! My idea of a quiet life is to get up at eleven, when the world has been thoroughly aired by that beneficent warming-pan, the sun; next, breakfast at twelve--twelve's a lovely hour for breakfast--have the morning papers all to yourself, and escape being dragged round the grounds like the rest of the visitors--to see the early peas, and the asparagus beds, and spring onions!

ARTH. Ha! ha! Well, what next?

COL. Breakfast over, a quiet nap; a bit of lunch at three; a heavenly slumber till dinner-time at seven; a cup of coffee, a cigar, and to bed at ten! That's my idea of a rational, peaceful existence!

ARTH. You'd better by half shoulder your gun and have a pop at the partridges!

COL. Thankee--I never went out with a gun but once in my life, and then I shot a couple of dogs and a game-keeper; so I gave it up; for if I'd gone on as I began, dogs and game-keepers would have been at a premium long before this!

ARTH. Ah! it was a bad business for you, uncle, that you didn't take a wife.

COL. It would have been a precious deal worse for my wife if I had!

ARTH. Well, every one to his taste. What you call existence _I_ call a state of positive torpidity. It may suit _you;_ but at my age a man hungers and thirsts after a little more excitement.

COL. Then why the deuce don't you take it? Go out fishing--in the duck-pond--or go and see the cows milked, or the pigs fed; or, better still, here's no end of excitement for you under your very nose.

ARTH. Where?

COL. At that window (_pointing to window_); gardener always at work rolling the lawn, or watering the flowers, or picking up worms, or killing slugs, and without the slightest fatigue for you; all you have to do is to settle yourself down at the window--

ARTH. Settle down, eh? My dear uncle, that's the very thing I want to do! In a word, Myrtle Vane--Lady Fritterly's sister--

COL. Ugh! The old story over again, eh? Lady Fritterly's sister is a niceish sort of girl--

ARTH. (_indignantly_). Niceish sort of girl! She's an angel!

COL. Rubbish! Besides, as I said before, you're too young to marry yet; wait another ten or fifteen years, and then begin to look about you. You haven't popped to her, have you?

ARTH. Popped?

COL. Proposed!

ARTH. No!

COL. Then how do you know she'd have you?

ARTH. Of course I don't _know;_ but I think she _might._

COL. There's a conceited young puppy for you!

ARTH. (_coaxingly_). Especially if you'll encourage my attentions--like my dear, kind old uncle!

COL. Which your "dear, kind old uncle" doesn't intend to do.

ARTH. You don't, eh? Very well, then listen to me! I shall do something desperate!

COL. Wait till I get out of the room! (_Feeling his pulse._) I thought as much! Going like a windmill in a gale of wind! This excitement's too much for me, I must take a sedative! (_takes pillbox out of his pocket; opens it, and tosses two pills into his mouth one after the other_). And now, young fellow, listen to me. If you are so anxious to _settle,_ as you call it, better begin with your bootmaker! In a word, you don't marry yet with my consent. Marry _without_ it, and I leave every shilling I've got to--to the Society for the Suppression of Virtue--I mean the Propagation of Vice--I don't know what I'm talking about! (_swallows two more pills, and hurries out at R., slamming door violently after him_).

ARTH. Just as easy to argue him out of his prejudices as it would be to make a Quaker kick his mother's-- Oh! here comes Myrtle! What a contrast!--he all apathy--she all impetuosity! Of course I shall have to give her an account of my morning's employment, as usual, which consists of breakfast--three slices of toast, a rasher of bacon, a couple of eggs, and a cup of coffee! and not a bad morning's work, either!

_Enter MYRTLE at C. in morning dress--a large garden hat and
gloves._

MYRT. Good-morning, Mr. Vallance! has nature no attractions for you, that you remain in-doors such a lovely day as this? Following your uncle's example, as usual, I presume?

ARTH. On the contrary, I've been very hard at work, I assure you, trying to reduce my uncle's bump of obstinacy.

MYRT. But in vain?--the _protuberance_ defied your efforts. And has that been your entire morning's work?

ARTH. Physically, yes! Mentally, no!

MYRT. The _physical_ we'll dismiss; the _mental_ consisting of--reading the newspaper, eh? (_smiling_).

ARTH. What can a man do such weather as this? It's too hot to walk, too early for billiards--only fit for smoking. By-the-bye, I _did_ manage to get as far as the stables, where I had a cigar.

MYRT. And this is the new leaf you promised me you would turn over--a tobacco-leaf! You are sadly deficient in energy, Mr. Vallance.

ARTH. I confess it. But brought up as I was from my earliest infancy under my uncle--

MYRT. (_smiling_). Under your uncle?

ARTH. Yes--(_suddenly_)--no, of course not. I mean under his _supervision_--how can I be otherwise than I am? He resents the slightest approach to activity as a slur on himself; and the highest compliment you can pay him is to yawn in his face (_checking a yawn with difficulty_).

MYRT. I beg pardon--I'm afraid I'm in the way.

ARTH. Not at all! But why are you in such a hurry to go?

MYRT. To allow you more leisure for (_imitating ARTHUR'S yawn_)--you know!

ARTH. Oh, Myrtle--do you object to my calling you Myrtle?

MYRT. You should have asked that question before you _did._

ARTH. If my tongue has been silent, surely my eyes must have spoken for me?

MYRT. (_stiffly_). Mr. Vallance, you forget yourself!

ARTH. Because I was thinking of you (_tenderly_).

MYRT. (_aside_). This is getting too serious. (_Aloud._) But you really must excuse me. I have my plants to attend to--a favorite creeper especially that requires nailing up.

ARTH. Let me go with you. I'll make myself so useful--you'll see how hard I'll work. I'll hold the ladder for you, and hand you up the hammer and tin-tacks!

MYRT. What an exertion! And all for me! Ha! ha! ha!

ARTH. (_annoyed_). I see how it is, madam; you've no feeling, or you wouldn't treat me so cruelly, so capriciously! If you had the slightest particle of regard for me, you'd let me hand you up the hammer and tin-tacks!

MYRT. You accuse _me_ of caprice! _you,_ who never knew what it is to be in earnest!

ARTH. I am so _now,_ I assure you.

MYRT. Then listen to me, Arthur Vallance. Let me see that you possess some energy, some enthusiasm, some strength of will, then I may, perhaps, give you a better answer. Good-morning.

[_Goes out at C. towards R._

ARTH. (_calling after_). Stop, Myrtle! _Do_ let me come and hand you up the hammer and tin-tacks! So! I'm to do something energetic, am I? Drown myself in the duck-pond? Yes!--no. I have it! I'll say good-by to Fritterly, and cut this place at once! And then, Miss Vane, perhaps you'll be sorry--perhaps you'll regret that you didn't let me hand you up the hammer and tin-tacks! Let me see, there's an express to town at three. (_Looking at his watch._) I can catch that. My traps can follow (_hurrying up towards door L. H., and coming into collision with SIR FELIX, who enters at the same time_).

SIR F. Holloa, old fellow, where the deuce are you off to in such a hurry?

ARTH. Don't ask me--I'm going out of my mind!

SIR F. The deuce you are! Well, if I may judge by appearances, it won't take you very long to get to the end of _that_ journey! Confound it, man, will you explain?

ARTH. Well, you know the feelings I entertain towards Miss Vane?

SIR F. Myrtle? Yes.

ARTH. Well, you'll hardly believe it; but when I proposed to her just now--

SIR F. You proposed to her? (_astonished_).

ARTH. Yes--to hand her up the hammer and tin-tacks--

SIR F. (_astonished_). Hammer and tin-tacks? What the deuce are you talking about?

ARTH. (_helplessly_). I'm sure I don't know--yes, I do. She said that when I showed a little energy--a little enthusiasm--a little something else, she'd perhaps give me a better answer.

SIR F. A better answer! What on earth can that mean?

ARTH. I can't tell! (_Suddenly._) Yes, I can, of course! It can only mean one thing (_enthusiastically_)--that she _will_ let me hand her up the hammer--

SIR F. (_shouting_). Confound it, drop that hammer! You've been hammering that hammer into my ears for the last ten minutes! Now! (_turning VALLANCE round to him face to face_) speak like a man of sense--if you've got any left in you!

ARTH. Well, then, I ventured to speak to my uncle--

SIR F. Old Cosey?

ARTH. Yes, old Cosey--about Myrtle, and he coolly told me I mustn't think of getting married for the next ten or fifteen years!

SIR F. Come, I like that!

ARTH. Do you? It's more than I do--unless, he said, he saw some urgent necessity for it; but that if I married without his consent he'd disinherit me.

SIR F. Is that all?

ARTH. All! It strikes me as being quite enough. No, it isn't all--it's only half, for Myrtle--

SIR F. (_cutting him short_). Never mind Myrtle; I know all about her. She thinks you a bit of a milksop--s--so do I; that you've no energy--not an atom! no will of your own--never had! and that in order to reinstate yourself in her good opinion you must do something _desperate!_ So you shall! Now what do you mean to do?

ARTH. Show a proper spirit, and--run away!

SIR F. Run away! Certainly not--fling yourself into my arms and I'll pull you through! So cheer up!

ARTH. It's very easy to say "cheer up" to a fellow who feels himself between two stools, with the certainty of coming down a cropper!

SIR F. But what's the use of giving you advice? You'd never follow it! You haven't the pluck to do anything desperate!

ARTH. I told uncle I would! But I'm not going to make away with myself merely to prove that I'm a man of my word!

SIR F. Pshaw! Now let's understand each other. Myrtle insists on your giving her a convincing proof of energy--pluck--determination--and all that sort of thing! You're not limited as to the direction they may take?

ARTH. Not at all!

SIR F. Good--and your uncle refuses his consent to your marriage unless he sees some urgent necessity for it?

ARTH. Exactly!

SIR F. Then the same medicine will do for both! Old Cosey has a great regard for propriety and morality, and all that sort of thing--hasn't he?

ARTH. Intense!

SIR F. Then we'll give him such a shock on that score, he'll think that his opposition to your wishes has driven you frantic with despair!

ARTH. But Myrtle?

SIR F. Has only to imagine there's a chance of your turning out a "naughty, good-for-nothing reprobate," and she'll be only too glad to reclaim her lost sheep at once!

ARTH. What then?

SIR F. Oh, then we must borrow a wrinkle from the French! As your uncle won't hear of your taking a wife of your own, take somebody else's!--no matter whose. Take _mine;_ she's the handiest!

ARTH. Don't be absurd!

SIR F. I'm perfectly serious! All your uncle wants is to snooze away his existence. We must wake the old boy up!!

ARTH. How?

SIR F. By an elopement!! A _pretended_ one, of course, which you shall propose to my wife, and _he_ shall overhear!

ARTH. _I_ propose an elopement to Lady Fritterly? She'll be indignant!

SIR F. How do you know that? She may feel flattered! At any rate I'll take all the responsibility!--you may be as fascinating as you choose! Ha! ha!

ARTH. But, man alive, I'm not in the habit of running away with other people's wives! I shouldn't know how to begin. Something in this style?--"Please, ma'am, will you run away with me?"

SIR F. Not half tender enough! (_Clasping his hands and with exaggerated passion._) "Loveliest of women"--then down on your knee--it don't matter which--both if you like. Then exclaim, "My bosom's torn with conflicting emotions"--"my brain is in a whirlwind of agony and despair"--tearing your hair out by handfuls all the time. Don't forget _that!_

ARTH. Stop! Don't be in such a confounded hurry! Let me see! "Loveliest of women," one! (_counting on his fingers_)--"conflicting emotions," two!--"agony," three!--"despair," four! Can't you make it five--one for each finger?

SIR F. Five--the elopement!--_there_ you must come out a little stronger--(_declaiming in exaggerated tone_)--"Let us fly, loved one!--horses are in readiness to bear us to the nearest station, where the flashing express shall whirl us to--to--" anywhere you like--Madagascar--Seringapatam--Pegwell Bay--no matter!

ARTH. Oh! that's the style, is it? By Jove, I've half a mind to chance it! But when is this precious scheme of yours to come off?

SIR F. At once! As soon as I can secure the presence of my wife, and old Cosey as a listener!--he always takes a nap on this couch when the coast is clear--(_turns the couch round with back to the audience_). There!--now, you take a stroll in the grounds--I'll hide behind the window-curtains and give you the signal to come in. Be off! (_pushing him up stage_).

ARTH. Wait a minute--(_counting on his fingers_)--"Loveliest of women," "conflicting emotions," "agony," "paggony"--no, not "paggony," "despair." Let me see, what's the little finger?

SIR F. The elopement!

ARTH. All right!

[_Exit at C. towards R., counting his fingers._

SIR F. He's gone at last! I ought to have been born in an atmosphere of diplomacy to develop my talent for intrigue! Ha, ha, ha! how this "little game" of mine will astonish them! But they all want waking up in this house! Cosey's an old hedgehog, all prickles and prejudices! Arthur's--never mind what! Myrtle's a crab-apple--pleasant to look at, but occasionally rather tart to the taste! (_here LADY FRITTERLY enters at door L., unperceived by SIR FELIX_). As for my wife (_here LADY F. stops and listens_), she's a charming woman; but she has one fault, for which I'd gladly exchange a good many of her virtues--she's so dreadfully proper! Shall I take her into my confidence? No! she hates jokes--especially mine. How she will stare when Arthur opens his _batteries!_--ha--ha!--run away with my wife!--the notion's too absurd.

LADY F. (_aside_). Indeed! So, so, husband of mine!--(_comes down and taps SIR FELIX on the shoulder_). Felix!

SIR F. (_turning_). Grace! (_Aside._) I wonder if she overheard!

LADY F. You seem merry!--laughing at your own jokes? Quite right you should, for nobody else does!

SIR F. Thank you! (_Aside._) All right! she didn't hear anything. Perhaps I'd better prepare her, just a little bit, or she might petrify poor Arthur with one of her tragedy looks before he opens his mouth, and then he'd take to his heels to a certainty! (_Aloud._) By-the-bye, my dear Grace, have you noticed anything peculiar in young Vallance's behavior lately?

LADY F. No; he seems as apathetic as ever; he may, perhaps, have shown a little more attention to me than usual (_with intention_).

SIR F. (_aside_). The deuce he has! I wonder what she'll say presently when he comes out with his "agony" and "despair?" (_Aloud._) I don't mean his behavior to _you_--but to Myrtle! He's not half so spooney--I mean attentive--as he used to be, and I fear there's a reason for it! (_with significance_).

LADY F. Indeed!

SIR F. Yes! he _may_ be smitten with _somebody_ else! At _his_ age the affections are fickle, volatile--skipping like a flea--

LADY F. Felix!

SIR F. I mean _sipping like a bee_ from flower to flower! Myrtle is young--very young; but even youth like hers _may_ become insipid! The love of every precocious boy of fifteen is a woman of _thirty!_ I began at twelve!

LADY F. A woman of thirty--_my_ age! Understand, sir, that no woman cares to be reminded of her age when she is turned thirty, any more than that she wears false hair! Your remark, therefore, is scarcely polite; but with your wife it appears you consider no such politeness necessary!

SIR F. Politeness! My dear Grace, what is politeness, after all?--merely the gloss of society! I suppose you'll admit that the shiny stuff they put on the top of the buns doesn't make them taste any the sweeter?

LADY F. Spare me your absurd similes, and don't mistake flippancy for wit!