Chapter IV: Introduction (3)

_Bl._ (_making a feeble attempt to follow_). Come back,
Brunette; don’t leave me thus, in charity!

_F._ (_with contempt_). Well, I’ll be off--since you seem to
prefer vulgarity.

_Bl._ No, stay--but--ah, she said--what if she _meant_ it?

_F._ Not she! And, if she did, _we_ can’t prevent it.

_Bl._ (_relieved_). That’s true--we’ll play, and think no more about
her.

_F._ (_sarcastically_). We may _just_ manage to get on without her!
So come----(_Perceives doll lying face upwards on path._)
You odious girl, what have you done?
Left Lady Minnie lying in the blazing sun!
’Twas done on purpose--oh, you _thing_ perfidious! [_Stamps._
You _knew_ she’d melt, and get completely hideous!
Don’t answer _me_, Miss--I wish we’d never met.
You’re only fit for persons like Brunette!

[_Picks up doll, and exit in passion._

_Grand Sensation Descriptive Soliloquy, by_ BLANCHIDINE, _to Melodramatic Music_.

_Bl._ Gone! Ah, I am rightly punished! What would I not give now to have homely little Brunette, and dear old wooden-headed Timburina back again! _She_ wouldn’t melt in the sun.... Where are they now? Great Heavens! that threat--that rash resolve ... I remember all! ’Twas in the direction of the Pond they vanished. (_Peeping anxiously between trees._) Are they still in sight? ... Yes, I see them? Brunette has reached the water’s edge ... What is she purposing! Now she kneels on the rough gravel; she is making Timburina kneel too! How calm and resolute they both appear! (_Shuddering._) I dare not look further--but ah, I must--_I must_!... Horror! I saw her boots flash for an instant in the bright sunlight: and now the ripples have closed, smiling, over her little black stockings!... Help!--save her, somebody!--help!... Joy! a gentleman has appeared on the scene--how handsome, how brave he looks! He has taken in the situation at a glance! With quiet composure he removes his coat--oh, _don’t_ trouble about folding it up!--and why, _why_ remove your gloves, when there is not a moment to be lost? Now, with many injunctions, he entrusts his watch to a bystander, who retires, overcome by emotion. And now--oh, gallant, heroic soul!--now he is sending his toy-terrier into the seething water! (_Straining_ _eagerly forward._) Ah, the dog paddles bravely out--he has reached the spot ... oh, he has passed it!--he is trying to catch a duck! Dog, dog, _is_ this a time for pursuing ducks? At last he understands--he dives ... he brings up--agony! a small tin cup! Again ... _this_ time, surely--what, only an old pot-hat!... Oh, this dog is a fool! And still the Round Pond holds its dread secret! Once more ... yes--no, yes, it _is_ Timburina! Thank Heaven, she yet breathes! But Brunette? Can she have stuck in the mud at the bottom? Ha, she, too, is rescued--saved--ha-ha-ha!--saved, saved, saved!

[_Swoons hysterically amid deafening applause._

_Enter_ FRANK MANLY _supporting_ BRUNETTE, _who carries_ TIMBURINA.

_Bl._ (_wildly_). What, do I see you safe, beloved Brunette?

_Br._ Yes, thanks to his courage, I’m not even _wet_!

_Frank_ (_modestly_). Nay, spare your compliments. To rescue Beauty,
When in distress, is every hero’s duty!

_Bl._ Brunette, forgive--I’m cured of all my folly!

_Br._ (_heartily_). Of course I will, my dear, and so will dolly!

[_Grand Trio and Step-dance, with “tippity-tappity,” and
“clickity-clack” refrain as finale._

VI.--COMING OF AGE.

Our present Drama represents an attempt to illustrate upon the Music-hall stage the eternal truth that race _will_ tell in the long run, despite--but, on second thoughts, it does not _quite_ prove that, though it certainly shows the unerring accuracy of parental--at least, that is not exactly its tendency, either; and the fact is that _Mr. Punch_ is more than a little mixed himself as to the precise theory which it is designed to enforce. He hopes, however, that, as a realistic study of Patrician life and manners, it will possess charms for a democratic audience.

COMING OF AGE.

_A GRAND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGICAL COMEDY-DRAMA IN ONE ACT._

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

_The Earl of Burntalmond._

_The Countess of Burntalmond (his wife)._

_Robert Henry Viscount Bullsaye (their son and heir)._

_The Lady Rose Caramel (niece to the Earl)._

_Horehound_ } Travelling as “The Celebrated Combination
_Mrs. Horehound_ } Korffdropp Troupe,” in their refined and
_Coltsfoot Horehound_ } elegant Drawing-room Entertainment.

_Tenantry._

SCENE--_The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Castle; banners,
mottoes, decorations, &c. On the steps_, R., _the Earl,_
supported by his wife, son, and niece, is discovered in the act
of concluding a speech to six tenantry, who display all the
enthusiasm that is reasonably to be expected at nine-pence a
night.

_The Earl_ (_patting_ Lord BULLSAYE’S _shoulder_). I might say more, Gentlemen, in praise of my dear son, Lord Bullsaye, here--I might dwell on his extreme sweetness, his strongly marked character, the variety of his tastes, and the singular attraction he has for children of all ages--but I forbear. I will merely announce that on this day--the day he has selected for attaining his majority--he has gratified us all by plighting troth to his cousin, the Lady Rose Caramel, with whose dulcet and clinging disposition he has always possessed the greatest natural affinity. [_Cheers._

_Lord Bullsaye_ (_aside to_ Lady R.). Ah, Rose, would such happiness
could last! But my heart misgives me strangely--why, I know not.

_Lady R._ Say not so, dear Bullsaye--have you not just rendered me the
happiest little Patrician in the whole peerage?

_Lord B._ ’Tis true--and yet, and yet--pooh, let me snatch the present
hour!
[_Snatches it._

_The Earl._ And now, let the Revels commence.

_Enter the_ Korffdropp Troupe, _who give their marvellous Entertainment, entitled, “The Three Surprise Packets;” after which_--

_Horehound._ This will conclude the first portion of our Entertainment, Lords, Ladies, _and_ Gentlemen; and, while my wife and pardner retires to change her costoom for the Second Part, I should be glad of the hoppertoonity of a short pussonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my right.

[_Exit_ Mrs. HOREHOUND.

_The Earl_ (_graciously_). I will hear you, fellow! (_Aside._) Strange
how familiar his features seem to me!

_Horeh._ The fact is, your Lordship’s celebrating the coming of hage of the _wrong heir_. (_Sensation--i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg to the other, and murmur feebly._) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years ago--(_slow music_)--I was in your Lordship’s service as gamekeeper, ’ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame day, and my hold dutch was selected to hact as foster-mother to the youthful lord. Well--(_tells a long, and not entirely original, story; marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green and magenta bows, &c., &c._) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at a moment’s notice----

_The Earl_ (_haughtily_). I did, upon discovering that you were in the habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within your umbrella. But proceed with your narration.

_Horeh._ I swore to be avenged, and so--(_common form again; the shifted bows_)--consequently, as a moment’s reflection will convince you, the young man on the steps, in the button-’ole and tall ’at, is my lawful son, while the real Viscount is--(_presenting_ COLTSFOOT, _who advances modestly on his hands_)--’ere!

[_Renewed sensation._

_The Earl._ This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (_To_ Lord B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent imposition--a gilded _lie_?

_Lord B._ Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my
best excuse!

_The E._ Nothing can excuse the fact that you--you, a low-born son of the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education, which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. (_To_ COLTSFOOT.) Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for these years of injustice and neglect!

_Colts._ Well, Guv’nor, if you could send out for a pot o’ four arf, it
’ud be a _beginning_, like.

_The E._ You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first
remove that incongruous garb.

_Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). These ’ere togs belong to _you_ now, young
feller, and I reckon exchange ain’t no robbery.

_Lord B._ (_with emotion, to_ Countess). Mother, can you endure to
behold your son in tights and spangles on the very day of his majority?

_Countess_ (_coldly_). On the contrary, it is my wish to see him attired
as soon as possible, in a more appropriate costume.

_Lord B._ (_to_ Lady R.). Rose, _you_, at least, have not changed? Tell me you will love me still even on the precarious summit of an acrobat’s pole!

_Lady Rose_ (_scornfully_). Really the presumptuous familiarity of the
lower orders is perfectly appalling!

_The Earl_ (_to_ Countess, _as_ Lord B. _and_ COLTSFOOT _retire to exchange costumes_). At last, Pauline, I understand why I could never feel towards Bullsaye the affection of a parent. Often have I reproached myself for a coldness I could not overcome.

_Countess._ And I too! Nature was too strong for us. But, oh, the joy of recovering our son--of finding him so strong, so supple, so agile. Never yet has our line boasted an heir who can feed himself from a fork strapped on to his dexter heel!

_The E._ (_with emotion_). Our beloved, boneless boy!

[_Re-enter_ COLTSFOOT _in modern dress, and_ Lord B. _in
tights_.

_Colts._ Don’t I look slap-up--O.K. and no mistake? Oh, I _am_ ’aving a
beano!

_All._ What easy gaiety, and unforced animation!

_The E._ My dear boy, let me present you to your _fiancée_. Rose, my
love, this is your _legitimate_ lover.

_Colts._ Oh, all right, _I’ve_ no objections--on’y there’ll be ructions with the young woman in the tight-rope line as I’ve been keepin’ comp’ny with--that’s all!

_The E._ Your foster-brother will act as your substitute there.
(_Proudly._) _My_ son must make no _mésalliance_!

_Rose_ (_timidly_). And, if it would give you any pleasure, I’m sure I
could soon learn the tight-rope!

_Colts._ Not at _your_ time o’ life, Miss, and besides, ’ang it, now I’m
a lord, I can’t have my wife doin’ nothing low!

_The E._ Spoken like a true Burntalmond! And now let the revels
re-commence.

[_Re-enter_ Mrs. Horehound.

_Horeh._ (_to_ Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, tumble, can’t you--what are
you ’ere _for_?

_Lord B._ (_to the_ Earl). Since it is your command, I obey, though it
is ill tumbling with a heavy heart!

[_Turns head over heels laboriously._

_Colts._ Call _that_ a somersault? ’Ere, ’old my ’at (_giving tall hat
to_ Lady R.) _I’ll_ show yer ’ow to do a turn.

[_Throws a triple somersault._

_All._ What condescension! How his aristocratic superiority is betrayed,
even in competition with those to the manner born!

_Mrs. Horeh._ (_still in ignorance of the transformation_). Halt! I have kept silence till now--even from my husband, but the time has come when I _must_ speak. Think you that if he were indeed a lord, he could turn such somersaults as those? No--no. I will reveal all. (_Tells same old story--except that she herself from ambitious motives transposed the infants’ bows._) Now, do with me what you will!

_Horeh._ Confusion, so my ill-judged action did but redress the wrong I
designed to effect!

_The E._ (_annoyed_). This is a serious matter, reflecting as it does upon the legitimacy of my lately recovered son. What proof have you, woman, of your preposterous allegation?

_Mrs. H._ None, my lord,--but these--

[_Exhibits two faded bunches of ribbon._

_The E._ I cannot resist such overwhelming evidence, fight against it as
I may.

_Lord B._ (_triumphantly_). And so--oh, Father, Mother, Rose--dear, dear
Rose--I am no acrobat, after all!

_The E._ (_sternly_). Would you were anything half so serviceable to the community, Sir! I have no superstitious reverence for rank, and am, I trust, sufficiently enlightened to discern worth and merit--even beneath the spangled vest of the humblest acrobat. Your foster-brother, brief as our acquaintance has been, has already endeared himself to all hearts, while you have borne a trifling reverse of fortune with sullen discontent and conspicuous incapacity. He has perfected himself in a lofty and distinguished profession during years spent by _you_, Sir, in idly cumbering the earth of Eton and Oxford. Shall I allow him to suffer by a purely accidental coincidence? Never! I owe him reparation, and it shall be paid to the uttermost penny. From this day, I adopt him as my eldest son, and the heir to my earldom, and all other real and personal effects. See, Robert Henry, that you treat your foster-brother as your senior in future!

_Colts._ (_to_ Lord B.). Way-oh, ole matey, I don’t bear no malice, _I_
don’t! Give us your dooks.
[_Offering hand._

_The C._ Ah, Bullsaye, try to be worthy of such generosity!

[Lord B. _grasps_ COLTSFOOT’S _hand in silence_.

_Lady Rose._ And pray, understand that, whether Mr. Coltsfoot be viscount or acrobat, it can make no difference whatever to the disinterested affection with which I have lately learnt to regard him.

[_Gives her hand to_ COLTSFOOT, _who squeezes it with ardour_.

_Colts._ (_pleasantly_). Well, Father, Mother, your noble Herlship and Lady, foster-brother Bullsaye, and my pretty little sweetart ’ere, what do you all say to goin’ inside and shunting a little garbage, and shifting a drop or so of lotion, eh?

_The E._ A most sensible suggestion, my boy. Let us make these ancient walls the scene of the blithest--ahem!--_beano_ they have ever yet beheld!

[_Cheers from Tenantry, as the_ Earl _leads the way into the
Castle with_ Mrs. HOREHOUND, _followed by_ HOREHOUND _with the_
Countess _and_ COLTSFOOT _with_ Lady ROSE, Lord BULLSAYE,
_discomfited and abashed, entering last as Curtain falls_.

VII.--RECLAIMED!

OR, HOW LITTLE ELFIE TAUGHT HER GRANDMOTHER.

CHARACTERS.

_Lady Belledame_ (_a Dowager of the deepest dye_).

_Monkshood_ (_her Steward, and confidential Minion_).

_Little Elfie_ (_an Angel Child_). This part has been specially
constructed for that celebrated Infant Actress, Banjoist, and
Variety Comédienne, Miss BIRDIE CALLOWCHICK.

SCENE--_The Panelled Room at Nightshade Hall._

_Lady Belledame_ (_discovered preparing parcels_). Old and unloved!--yes the longer I live, the more plainly do I perceive that I am _not_ a popular old woman. Have I not acquired the reputation in the County of being a witch? My neighbour, Sir Vevey Long, asked me publicly only the other day “when I would like my broom ordered,” and that minx, Lady Violet Powdray, has pointedly mentioned old cats in my hearing! Pergament, my family lawyer, has declined to act for me any longer, merely because Monkshood rack-rented some of the tenants a little too energetically in the Torture Chamber--as if in these hard times one was not justified in putting the screw on! Then the villagers scowl when I pass; the very children shrink from me--[_A childish Voice outside window,_ “Yah, ’oo sold ’erself to Old Bogie for a pound o’ tea an’ a set o’ noo teeth?”]--that is, when they do not insult me by suggestions of bargains that are not even businesslike! No matter--I will be avenged upon them all--ay, all! ’Tis Christmas-time--the season at which sentimental fools exchange gifts and good wishes. For once I, too, will distribute a few seasonable presents.... (_Inspecting parcels._) Are my arrangements complete? The bundle of choice cigars, in each of which a charge of nitro-glycerine has been dexterously inserted? The lip-salve, made up from my own prescription with corrosive sublimate by a venal chemist in the vicinity? The art flower-pot, containing a fine specimen of the Upas plant, swathed in impermeable sacking? The sweets compounded with sugar of lead? The packet of best ratsbane? Yes, nothing has been omitted. Now to summon my faithful Monkshood.... Ha! he is already at hand.

[_Chord as_ MONKSHOOD _enters_.

_Monkshood._ Your Ladyship, a child, whose sole luggage is a small bandbox and a large banjo, is without, and requests the favour of a personal interview.

_Lady B._ (_reproachfully_). And you, who have been with me all these years, and know my ways, omitted to let loose the bloodhounds? You grow careless, Monkshood!

_Monks._ (_wounded_). Your Ladyship is unjust--I _did_ unloose the bloodhounds; but the ferocious animals merely sat up and begged. The child had took the precaution to provide herself with a bun!

_Lady B._ No matter, she must be removed--I care not how.

_Monks._ There may be room for one more--a little one--in the old well. The child mentioned that she was your Ladyship’s granddaughter, but I presume that will make no difference?

_Lady B._ (_disquieted_). What!--then she must be the child of my only son Poldoodle, whom, for refusing to cut off the entail, I had falsely accused of adulterating milk, and transported beyond the seas! She comes hither to denounce and reproach me! Monkshood, she must not leave this place alive--you hear?

_Monks._ I require no second bidding--ha, the child ... she comes!

[_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _trips in with touching
self-confidence._

_Elfie_ (_in a charming little Cockney accent_). Yes, Grandma, it’s me--little Elfie, come all the way from Australia to see you, because I thought you must be sow lownly all by yourself! My Papa often told me what a long score he owed you, and how he hoped to pay you off if he lived. But he went out to business one day--Pa was a bushranger, you know, and worked--oh, _so_ hard; and never came back to his little Elfie, so poor little Elfie has come to live with you!

_Monks._ Will you have the child removed now, my Lady?

_Lady B._ (_undecidedly_). Not now--not yet; I have other work for you. These Christmas gifts, to be distributed amongst my good friends and neighbours (_handing parcels_). First, this bundle of cigars to Sir Vevey Long with my best wishes that such a connoisseur in tobacco may find them sufficiently strong. The salve for Lady Violet Powdray, with my love, and it should be rubbed on the last thing at night. The plant you will take to the little Pergaments--’twill serve them for a Christmas tree. This packet to be diluted in a barrel of beer, which you will see broached upon the village green; these sweetmeats for distribution among the most deserving of the school-children.

_Elfie_ (_throwing her arms around Lady B.’s neck_). I _do_ like you, Grandma, you have such a kind face! And oh, what pains you must have taken to find something that will do for everybody!

_Lady B._ (_disengaging herself peevishly_). Yes, yes, child. I trust that what I have chosen will indeed do for everybody,--but I do not like to be messed about. Monkshood, you know what you have to do.

_Elfie._ Oh, I am sure he does, Grandma! See how benevolently he smiles. You’re such a good old man, you will take care that all the poor people are fed, _won’t_ you?

_Monks._ (_with a sinister smile_). Ah! Missie, I’ve ’elped to settle a
many people’s ’ash in my time!

_Elfie_ (_innocently_). What, do they all get hash? How nice! I like
hash,--but what else do you give them?

_Monks._ (_grimly_). Gruel, Missie. (_Aside._) I must get out of this,
or this innocent child’s prattle will unman me!

[_Exit with parcels._

_Elfie._ You seem so sad and troubled, Grandma. Let me sing you one of
the songs with which I drew a smile from poor dear Pa in happier days.

_Lady B._ No, no, some other time. (_Aside._) Pshaw! why should I dread
the effect of her simple melodies? (_Aloud._) Sing, child, if you will.

_Elfie._ How glad I am that I brought my banjo! [_Sings._

_Dar is a lubly yaller gal dat tickles me to deff;
She’ll dance de room ob darkies down, and take away deir breff.
When she sits down to supper, ebery coloured gemple-man,
As she gets her upper lip o’er a plate o’ “possom dip,” cries,
“Woa, Lucindy Ann!”_ (Chorus, dear Granny!)

_Chorus._

_Woa, Lucindy! Woa, Lucindy! Woa, Lucindy Ann!
At de rate dat you are stuffin, you will nebber leave us nuffin;
so woa, Miss Sindy Ann!_

_To Lady B._ (_who, after joining in chorus with deep emotion, has burst
into tears_). Why, you are _weeping_, dear Grandmother!

_Lady B._ Nay, ’tis nothing, child--but have you no songs which are less
sad?

_Elfie._ Oh, yes, I know plenty of plantation ditties more cheerful than
that. (_Sings._)

_Oh, I hear a gentle whisper from de days ob long ago,
When I used to be a happy darkie slave.
[Trump-a-trump!
But now I’se got to labour wif the shovel an’ de hoe--
For ole Massa lies a sleepin’ in his grave!
[Trump-trump!_

_Chorus._

_Poor ole Massa! Poor ole Massa!_ (Pianissimo.) _Poor ole
Massa, that I nebber more shall see!
He was let off by de Jury, Way down in old Missouri--But
dey lynched him on a persimmon tree._

_Elfie._ You smile at last, dear Grandma! I would sing to you again,
but I am so very, very sleepy!

_Lady B._ Poor child, you have had a long journey. Rest awhile on this
couch, and I will arrange this screen so as to protect your slumbers.
[_Leads little_ ELFIE _to couch_.

_Elfie_ (_sleepily_). Thanks, dear Grandma, thanks.... Now I shall go to sleep, and dream of you, and the dogs, and angels. I so often dream about angels--but that is generally after supper, and to-night I have had no supper.... But never mind.... Good night, Grannie, good night ... goo’ni’ ... goo ... goo! [_She sinks softly to sleep._

_Lady B._ And I was about to set the bloodhounds upon this little sunbeam! ’Tis long since these grim walls have echoed strains so sweet as hers. (_Croons._) “Woa, Lucindy” &c. “Dey tried him by a Jury, way down in ole Missouri, an’ dey hung him to a possumdip tree!” (_Goes to couch, and gazes on the little sleeper._) How peacefully she slumbers! What a change has come over me in one short hour!--my withered heart is sending up green shoots of tenderness, of love, and hope! Let me try henceforth to be worthy of this dear child’s affection and respect. (_Turns, and sees_ MONKSHOOD.) Ha, Monkshood! Then there is time yet! Those parcels ... quick, quick!--the parcels!----

_Monks_ (_impassively_). Have been left as you instructed, my Lady.

[_Chord._ Lady B. _staggers back, gasping, into chair. Little_
ELFIE _awakes behind screen, and rubs her eyes_.

_Lady B._ (_in a hoarse whisper_). You--you have left the parcels ... all--_all?_ Tell me--how were they received? Speak low--I would not that yonder child should awake and hear!

_Little Elfie_ (_behind the screen, very wide awake indeed_). Dear, good old Grannie--she would conceal her generosity--even from _me_! (_Loudly._) She little thinks that I am overhearing all!

_Monks._ I could have sworn I heard whispering.

_Lady B._ Nay, you are mistaken--’twas but the wind in the old wainscot. (_Aside._) He is quite capable of destroying that innocent child; but old and attached servant as he is, there are liberties I still know how to forbid. (_To_ M.) Your story--quick!

_Monks._ First, I delivered the cigars to Sir Vevey Long, whom I found under his verandah. He seemed surprised and gratified by the gift, selected a weed, and was proceeding to light it, whilst he showed a desire to converse familiarly with me. ’Astily excusing myself, I drove away, when----

_Lady B._ When _what_? Do not torture a wretched old woman!

_Monks._ When I heard a loud report behind me, and, in the portion of a brace, two waistcoat-buttons, and half a slipper, which hurtled past my ears, I recognised all that was mortal of the late Sir Vevey. You mixed them cigars uncommon strong, m’Lady.

_Elfie_ (_aside_). Can it be? But no, no. I will _not_ believe it. I
am sure that dear Granny meant no harm!

_Lady B._ (_with a grim pride she cannot wholly repress_). I have devoted some study to the subject of explosives. ’Tis another triumph to the Anti-tobacconists. And what of Lady Violet Powdray--did she apply the salve?

_Monks._ Judging from the ’eartrending ’owls which proceeded from Carmine Cottage, the salve was producing the desired result. Her Ladyship, ’owever, terminated her sufferings somewhat prematoor by jumping out of a top winder just as I was taking my departure----

_Lady B._ She should have died hereafter--but no matter ... and the
Upas-tree?----

_Monks._----was presented to the Pergaments, who unpacked it, and loaded its branches with toys and tapers; after which Mr. Pergament, Mrs. P., and all the little Pergaments joined ’ands, and danced round it in light’arted glee. (_In a sombre tone._) They little knoo as how it was their dance of death!

_Lady B._ That knowledge will come! And the beer, Monkshood--you saw
it broached?

_Monks._ Upon the village green; the mortality is still spreading, it being found impossible to undo the knots in which the victims have tied themselves. The sweetmeats were likewise distributed, and the floor of the hinfant-school now resembles one vast fly-paper.

_Lady B._ (_with a touch of remorse_). The children too! Was not my
little Elfie once an infant? Ah me, ah me!

_Elfie_ (_aside_). Once--but that was long, long ago. And, oh, _how_
disappointed I am in poor dear Grandmama!

_Lady B._ Monkshood, you should not have done these things--you should have saved me from myself. You _must_ have known how greatly all this would increase my unpopularity in the neighbourhood.

_Monks._ (_sulkily_). And this is my reward for obeying orders! Take care, my Lady. It suits you now to throw me aside like a--(_casting about for an original simile_)--like a old glove, because this innocent grandchild of yours has touched your flinty ’art. But where will _you_ be when she learns----?

_Lady B._ (_in agony_). Ah, no, Monkshood, good, faithful Monkshood, she must never know that! Think, Monkshood, you would not tell her that the Grandmother to whom she looks up with such touching, childlike love, was a--_homicide_--you would not do that?

_Monks._ Some would say even ’omicide was not too black a name for all you’ve done. (Lady BELLEDAME _shudders_.) I might tell Miss Elfie how you’ve blowed up a live Baronet, corrosive sublimated a gentle Lady, honly for ’aving, in a moment of candour, called you a hold cat, and distributed pison in a variety of forms about this smiling village; and, if that don’t inspire her with distrust, I don’t know the nature of children, that’s all! I might tell her, I say, and, if I’m to keep my mouth shut, I shall expect it to be considered in my wages.

_Lady B._ I knew you had a good heart! I will pay you anything--anything, provided you shield my guilt from her ... wait, you shall have gold, gold, Monkshood, gold!

[_Chord. Little_ ELFIE _suddenly comes from behind screen;
limelight on her. The other two shrink back._

_Elfie._ Do not give that bad old man money, Grandmother, for it will
only be wasted.

_Lady B._ Speak, child!--how much do you know?

_Elfie._ All! [_Chord._ Lady B. _collapses on chair_.

_Lady B._ (_with an effort_). And now, Elfie, that you know, you
scorn and hate your poor old Grandmother--is it not so?

_Elfie._ It is wrong to hate one’s Grandmother, whatever she does. At first when I heard, I was very, very sorry. I _did_ think it was most unkind of you. But now, oh, I _can’t_ believe that you had not some good, wise motive, in acting as you did!

_Lady B._ (_in conscience-stricken aside_). Even _this_ cannot
shatter her artless faith ... Oh, wretch, wretch!

[_Covers her face._

_Monks._ Motive--I believe you there, Missie. Why, she went and
insured all their lives aforehand, _she_ did.

_Lady B._ Monkshood, in pity hold your peace!

_Elfie_ (_her face beaming_). I knew it--I was sure of it! Oh, Granny, my dear, kind old Granny, you insured their lives first, so that no real harm could possibly happen to them--oh, I am so happy!

_Lady B._ (_aside_). What shall I say? Merciful Powers, what _shall_
I say to her?
[_Disturbed sounds without._

_Monks._ I don’t know what you’d better _say_, but I can tell you what your Ladyship had better _do_--and that is, take your ’ook while you can. Even now the outraged populace approaches, to wreak a hawful vengeance upon your guilty ’ed! [_Melodramatic music._

_Lady B._ (_distractedly_). A mob! I cannot face them--they will tear me limb from limb. At my age I could not survive such an indignity as that! Hide me, Monkshood--help me to escape!

_Monks._ There is a secret underground passage, known only to myself, communicating with the nearest railway station. I will point it out, and personally conduct your Ladyship--for a consideration--one thousand pounds down.

[_The noise increases._

_Elfie._ No, Granny, don’t trust him! Be calm and brave. Await the mob here. Leave it all to me. I will explain everything to them--how you meant no ill,--how, at the very time they thought you were meditating an injury, you were actually spending money in insuring all their lives. When I tell them _that_----

_Monks._ Ah, you tell ’em that, and see. It’s too late now--they are
here!

[_Shouts without._ Lady B. _crouches on floor. Little_ ELFIE
_goes to the window, throws open the shutters, and stands on
balcony in her fluttering white robe, and the limelight_.

_Elfie._ Yes, they are here. Why, they are carrying torches!--(Lady B. _groans_)--and banners, too! I think they have a band.... Who is that tall, stout gentleman, in the white hat, on horseback, and the lady in a pony-trap, with, oh, such a beautiful complexion! There is an inscription on one of the flags--I can read it quite plainly. “_Thanks to the generous Donor!_” (That must be _you_, Grandmother!) And there are children who dance, and scatter flowers. They are asking for a speech. (_Speaking off._) “If you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, my Grandmama is not at all well, but she wishes me to say she wishes you a Merry Christmas, and is very glad you all like your presents so much. Good-bye, _good_-bye!” (_Returning down Stage._) Now they have gone away, Granny.... They did look so grateful!

_Lady B._ (_bewildered_). What is this! Sir Vevey, Lady Violet,--alive, well? This deputation of gratitude? Am I mad, dreaming--or what does it all mean?

_Monks._ (_doggedly_). It means that the sight of this ’ere angel child recalled me to a sense of what I might be exposin’ myself to by carrying out your Ladyship’s commands; and so I took the liberty of substitootin gifts more calculated to inspire gratitude in their recipients--that’s what it means.

_Lady B._ Wretch!--then you have disobeyed me? You leave this day
month!

_Elfie_ (_pleading_). Nay, Grandmother, bear with him, for has not his disobedience spared you from acts that you might some day have regretted?... There, Mr. Butler, Granny forgives you--see, she holds out her hand, and here’s mine; and now----

_Lady B._ (_smiling tenderly_). Now you shall sing us “_Woa,
Lucinda!_”

[_Little_ ELFIE _fetches her banjo, and sings, “Woa, Lucinda!”
her Grandmother and the aged Steward joining in the dance and
chorus, and embracing the child, to form picture as Curtain
falls_.

VIII.--JACK PARKER;

OR, THE BULL WHO KNEW HIS BUSINESS.

CHARACTERS.

_Jack Parker_ (“_was a cruel boy, For mischief was his sole
employ._”--_Vide_) Miss JANE TAYLOR.

_Miss Lydia Banks_ (“_though very young, Will never do what’s
rude or wrong._”--_Ditto._)

_Farmer Banks_ } By the Brothers GRIFFITHS.
_Farmer Banks’s Bull_ }

_Chorus of Farm Hands._

SCENE.--_A Farmyard._ R. _a stall from which the head of the
Bull is visible above the half-door. Enter_ Farmer BANKS _with
a cudgel_.

_Farmer B._ (_moodily_). When roots are quiet, and cereals are dull,
I vent my irritation on the Bull.

[_We have_ Miss TAYLOR’S _own authority for this rhyme_.

Come hup, you beast!

[_Opens stall and flourishes cudgel--the Bull comes forward
with an air of deliberate defiance._

Oh, turning narsty, is he?

[_Apologetically to Bull._

Another time will do! I see you’re busy!

[_The Bull, after some consideration, decides to accept this
retractation, and retreats with dignity to his stall, the door
of which he carefully fastens after him. Exit_ Farmer BANKS,
L., _as_ LYDIA BANKS _enters_ R. _accompanied by Chorus. The
Bull exhibits the liveliest interest in her proceedings, as he
looks on, with his forelegs folded easily upon the top of the
door._

_Song_--LYDIA BANKS (_in Polka time_).

I’m the child by Miss Jane Taylor sung;
Unnaturally good for one so young--
A pattern for the people that I go among,
With my moral little tags on the tip of my tongue.
And I often feel afraid that I shan’t live long,
For I never do a thing that’s rude or wrong!

_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull beats time_).
As a general rule, one _doesn’t_ live long,
If you never do a thing that’s rude or wrong!

_Second Verse._

My words are all with wisdom fraught,
To make polite replies I’ve sought;
And learned by independent thought,
That a pinafore, inked, is good for nought.
So wonderfully well have I been taught,
That I turn my toes as children ought!

_Chorus_ (_to which the Bull dances_).
This moral lesson she’s been taught--
She turns her toes as children ought!

_Lydia_ (_sweetly_). Yes, I’m the Farmer’s daughter--Lydia Banks;
No person ever caught me playing pranks!
I’m loved by all the live-stock on the farm,

[_Ironical applause from the Bull._

Pigeons I’ve plucked will perch upon my arm,
And pigs at my approach sit up and beg.

[_Business by Bull._

For me the partial peacock saves his egg,
No sheep e’er snaps if _I_ attempt to touch her,
Lambs _like_ it when I lead them to the butcher!
Each morn I milk my rams beneath the shed,
While rabbits flutter twittering round my head,
And, as befits a dairy-farmer’s daughter,
What milk I get I supplement with water,

[_A huge Shadow is thrown on the road outside_; LYDIA _starts_.

Whose shadow is it makes the highway darker?
That bullet head! those ears! it is----Jack Parker!

[_Chord. The Chorus flee in dismay, as_ JACK _enters with a
reckless swagger_.

_Song_--JACK PARKER.

I’m loafing about, and I very much doubt
If my excellent Ma is aware that I’m out;
My time I employ in attempts to annoy,
And I’m not what you’d call an agreeable boy!
I shoe the cats with walnut-shells;
Tin cans to curs I tie;
Ring furious knells at front-door bells--
Then round the corner fly!
’Neath donkeys’ tails I fasten furze,
Or timid horsemen scare;
If chance occurs, I stock with burrs
My little Sister’s hair!

[_The Bull shakes his head reprovingly._

Such tricks give me joy without any alloy,
But they do not denote an agreeable boy!

[_As_ JACK PARKER _concludes, the Bull ducks cautiously below
the half-door, while_ LYDIA _conceals herself behind the pump_,
L.C.

_Jack_ (_wandering about stage discontentedly_). I thought at least
there’d be _some_ beasts to badger here!
Call this a farm--there ain’t a blooming spadger here!

[_Approaches stall--Bull raises head suddenly._

A bull! This is a lark I’ve long awaited!
He’s in a stable, so he should be baited.

[_The Bull shows symptoms of acute depression at this jeu de
mots_; LYDIA _comes forward indignantly_.

_Lydia._ I _can’t_ stand by and see that poor bull suffer!
Excitement’s sure to make his beef taste tougher!

[_The Bull emphatically corroborates this statement._

Be warned by Miss Jane Taylor; fractured skulls
Invariably come from teasing bulls!
So let that door alone, nor lift the latchet;
For if the bull gets out--why, then you’ll catch it.

_Jack._ A fractured skull? Yah, don’t believe a word of it!

[_Raises latchet: chord; Bull comes slowly out, and crouches
ominously_; JACK _retreats, and takes refuge on top of pump:
the Bull, after scratching his back with his off foreleg, makes
a sudden rush at_ LYDIA.

_Lydia_ (_as she evades it_). Here, help!--it’s chasing me!--it’s
too absurd of it!
Go away, Bull--with _me_ you have no quarrel!

[_The Bull intimates that he is acting from a deep sense of
duty._

_Lydia_ (_impatiently_). You stupid thing, you’re _ruining_ the
moral!

[_The Bull persists obstinately in his pursuit._

_Jack_ (_from top of pump_). Well dodged, Miss Banks! although
the Bull I’ll back!

[_Enter_ Farm-hands.

_Lydia._ Come quick--this Bull’s mistaking me for Jack!

_Jack._ He knows his business best, I shouldn’t wonder.

_Farm-hands_ (_philosophically_). He ain’t the sort of Bull
to make a blunder.

[_They look on._

_Lydia_ (_panting._) Such violent exercise will soon exhaust me!

[_The Bull comes behind her._

Oh, Bull, it _is_ unkind of you ... you’ve _tossed_ me!

[_Falls on ground, while the Bull stands over her, in readiness
to give the coup de grace_; LYDIA _calls for help_.

_A Farm-hand_ (_encouragingly_). Nay, Miss, he seems moor
sensible nor surly--
He knows as how good children perish early!

[_The Bull nods in acknowledgment that he is at last
understood, and slaps his chest with his forelegs._

_Lydia._ Bull, I’ll turn naughty, if you’ll but be lenient!
Goodness, I see, is sometimes inconvenient.
I promise you henceforth I’ll _try_, at any rate,
To act like children who are unregenerate!

[_The Bull, after turning this over, decides to accept a
compromise._

_Jack._ And, Lydia, when you ready for a lark are,
Just give a chyhike to your friend--Jack Parker!

[_They shake hands warmly._

FINALE.

_Lydia._ I thought to slowly fade away so calm and beautiful.
(Though I didn’t mean to go just yet);
But you get no chance for pathos when you’re chivied by a bull!
(So I thought I wouldn’t go just yet.)
For I did feel so upset, when I found that all you get
By the exercise of virtue, is that bulls will come and hurt you!
That I thought I wouldn’t go just yet!

_Chorus._ We hear, with some regret,
That she doesn’t mean to go just yet.
But a Bull with horns that hurt you
Is a poor return for virtue,
So she’s wiser not to go just yet!

[_The Bull rises on his hindlegs, and gives a forehoof each to_
LYDIA _and_ JACK, _who dance wildly round and round as the
Curtain falls_.

[N.B.--Music-hall Managers are warned that the morality of this particular Drama may possibly be called in question by some members of the L. C. C.]

IX.--UNDER THE HARROW.

_A CONVENTIONAL COMEDY-MELODRAMA, IN TWO ACTS._

CHARACTERS.

_Sir Poshbury Puddock (a haughty and high-minded Baronet)._

_Verbena Puddock (his Daughter)._

_Lord Bleshugh (her Lover)._

_Spiker (a needy and unscrupulous Adventurer)._

_Blethers (an ancient and attached Domestic)._