Works of W. W. Jacobs

by Jacobs, W. W.

  MRS. SMEDLEY. Not so loud, William, he’ll hear you.

  MAJOR. What d’ye s’pose I’m calling him for?

  MRS. SMEDLEY. I mean he’ll hear you swearing.

  MAJOR. That he certainly shall. (shouts) Dibbs!

  What the —

  MRS. SMEDLEY. William!

  MAJOR. (glares at her) How the ——

  MRS. SMEDLEY. William!

  MAJOR. (glares) Dibbs-s-s!

  (Enter DIBBS, an elderly gardener, L. L. E. He is eating, and has his mouth full of bread and cheese.)

  DIBBS. Was you calling me, sir?

  MAJOR. (hoarsely) D’you suppose I shout “Dibbs” for exercise, (points to the flower-bed) What’s this?

  (DIBBS goes o.)

  (shouts, DIBBS starts) What the devil’s this?

  DIBBS. Them’s hydringers and — (goes in front to R. c.) Well, I’m — ! They’ve come out again!

  Not a quarter of an hour ago I raked ’em over.

  MAJOR. Rake ’em over again! (shouts) Rake ’em over again!

  (DIBBS crosses to L. with a run.)

  Where are you going?

  DIBBS. To get my barrer. (he goes off L. L. E.)

  MAJOR. (shouts after him) Confound and dash it, sir, are you going to rake the flower-bed with a barrow?

  MRS. SMEDLEY. William — if Dibbs raked the flower-bed a quarter of an hour ago, and there are footprints now, she must have been out.

  MAJOR. Who? Ethel? Stuff and nonsense, (sits L.) She’s locked up — and she can’t jump.

  ETHEL. (from — her — hiding-place, — c.) — Oh, — what stories! Look!

  (She takes a run, jumps and lands in the middle of the bed.)

  LUCY — and — with — a — scream) — Ethel!

  MRS. SMEDLEY.

  (LUCY rises, goes to seat R.)

  MAJOR. (speechless) Eth — ! Come here.

  (ETHEL backs off bed to R.C. saying ‘No.”)

  Come here!

  (ETHEL comes on to bed.)

  No, not that way!

  (ETHEL back to R. C.)

  That way!

  (ETHEL comes at back of bed to L. C.)

  Didn’t I lock you up?

  ETHEL. Did you?

  (MRS. SMEDLEY sits.)

  MAJOR. Did I! Did I! How did you get out?

  ETHEL. (looks at him) Why, it was so fine, and I know how anxious you are I should take exercise, so I — I went for a stroll.

  MAJOR. But — how did you get out?

  ETHEL. By the window.

  MAJOR. (on the rustic seat) Upon my soul (shouts), upon my soul —

  (ETHEL retreats round bed — comes to L. C.) Come here, come here.

  (ETHEL goes to him demurely.)

  Now then, are you going to marry Herbert Manners, or are you not?

  ETHEL. Oh, father, it’s awfully good of you to let me choose.

  MAJOR. (apoplectic) Let you choose — !

  ETHEL. (continuing) And I am not.

  MAJOR. Ha — are you aware he has come all the way from Russia to get married?

  ETHEL. So he can, papa. He can get married to somebody else.

  MAJOR. Are you aware he may be here at any moment?

  ETHEL. Yes, father.

  MAJOR. And I’ve got to go and meet him at the station ETHEL. Yes, father.

  MAJOR. (bursting out) Confound and dash it! Don’t keep on saying “Yes, father.”

  ETHEL. Yes, father — I mean, no, father.

  MRS. SMEDLEY. Don’t infuriate your father, child.

  ETHEL. NO, mamma.

  MAJOR. Are you aware you are engaged to him?

  ETHEL. Oh, but a girl doesn’t have to marry everybody she’s engaged to. It wouldn’t be nice you know. —

  MRS. SMEDLEY. (approvingly) You couldn’t expect that of her, William.

  MAJOR. If you don’t want to marry him, why did you get engaged to him?

  ETHEL. Well, I don’t know. I didn’t think it mattered much, as he was going away. And besides, Cissie O’Shaughnessy and I had a bet as to which would get engaged first — and I won. (goes to c.)

  (LUCY rises, comes to o at back.)

  MAJOR. (struggling with his feelings) Bet? — Won?

  ETHEL. (with mild triumph) Yes. She isn’t engaged yet. (thoughtfully) It isn’t for want of trying, either, (up R. o.) —

  (The MAJOR rises, chokes and stares wildly, and is about to speak — sits — the three women rise on tiptoe in anguish until he collapses with a grunt.)

  MRS. SMEDLEY. Hsh! William! William! MAJOR, (hoarsely) All right, my dear.

  (LUCY sits up R. O.)

  (MRS. SMEDLEY sits R.)

  MRS. SMEDLEY. (to ETHEL). Have you any decided objection to Herbert, Ethel?

  ETHEL. (kneels above MRS. SMEDLEY) NO. I don’t like him well enough to object to him.

  (DIBBS comes on L. 2 E. with his barrow and rake, brings them down L. c.; he is dragging the barrow behind him.) —

  He’s been gone a year, you see, and I don’t remember him. The part I do remember I don’t like.

  MAJOR. Don’t like — ?

  ETHEL. NO. Besides I don’t want to get married at all. (simply) I want to live my own life, and do good to others.

  (This is too much for DIBBS, who is going. He gives an irrepressible explosive chuckle — ETHEL stares at him haughtily. MRS. SMEDLEY and LUCY look surprised.)

  MAJOR. Do good to others —

  (DIBBS laughs.)

  Dibbs! What the devil are you laughing for? DIBBS. I wasn’t laughing.

  (Exit L. 2 E., another laugh off.)

  MAJOR. DO good to others! You — who — how? ETHEL. I want to be a hospital nurse.

  MRS. SMEDLEY. Oh, you wicked girl! Think of the poor patients.

  MAJOR. Stuff and nonsense. You must have some other reason.

  ETHEL. (runs to MAJOR, kneels) I don’t want to leave my dear father.

  MRS. SMEDLEY. YOU can’t always expect to be tied to your father’s apron strings.

  MAJOR. (rises, crosses to c., spluttering) Apron strings! Ap —

  MRS. SMEDLEY. Hush, William.

  MAJOR. (hoarsely) All right. It’s a perfectly reasonable sentiment, Susan. (to ETHEL) But then partings have to happen, my girl, they are natural, and desirable — very desirable.

  ETHEL. (runs to him, head on his shoulder) Well, it’ll take more than Mr. Manners to part us. (LUCY rises, places chair c and goes to seat R., sits)

  MAJOR. Yes, yes, but I — wish it.

  ETHEL. YOU have often told me we ought not to consider our own wishes, when the good of other people is concerned.

  MAJOR. Fiddlesticks! I have promised. You have promised. (goes to L. c.) I (to LUCY) Get out of the way. (LUCY rises and goes up — MAJOR sits) I mean to keep my word and to see you keep yours.

  ETHEL. (tragically) There is a last reason! (goes to L. c.)

  MAJOR. Ah!

  ETHEL. I love another.

  LUCY. Ethel! (goes to MAJOR)

  (Bombshell. MRS. SMEDLEY springs up. The MAJOR is on the point of an explosion, but restrains himself by a supernatural effort.)

  MAJOR. Keep quiet, Susan, keep perfectly quiet! Now then, miss, who is he? What’s his name? Where does he live?

  ETHEL. (with exaltation) I don’t know his name, father; nor who he is; nor where he lives. Somewhere in a little blue cloud, I think — and I have never seen him.

  MAJOR. (rises, foaming) Little — blue — cloud!

  Little bl — What the devil do you mean? (comes to c.)

  ETHEL. I mean, I feel I could love another, because I don’t love Mr. Manners. (goes down L.)

  MAJOR. The girl’s mad, stark, staring mad. (quietly) Now, look here, I’m going to drive down to the station and meet Manners. When I come back I expect to see you suitably dressed, and prepared to receive him properly as your affianced husband. If you don’t, I’ll never speak to you again.

  ETHEL. (with deep sympathy) Poor father ——

  MAJOR. I’ll cut you off with a shilling
. (shouts) And the first thing to-morrow morning I’ll pack you off to your Aunt Jane in the Orkneys.

  ETHEL. (alarmed) Aunt Jane? Oh, I won’t go! I won’t go! (sits L., kicking stage)

  MAJOR. And there you shall stay, till you’re in your right mind. That’s my last word; and you know me. Come along, Susan, (going up L. collides with harrow — foams, limps, goes up between bed and barrow to LUCY, who is up R. C.)

  (MRS. SMEDLEY goes L. to ETHEL, kisses her and whispers, then goes up L. C. to L.)

  (to LUCY) Talk to her. Give her a little common sense! (goes to R., gets his hat) She wants it.

  (MAJOR turns and is going across to up L., nearly falls on bed, goes round back of it to L. C.)

  Damn the garden — damn!

  MRS. SMEDLEY. William!

  (Exit L. 2 E.)

  MAJOR. (hoarsely) I know.

  (Exit L. 2 E.)

  (LUCY goes to ETHEL, L. C.)

  ETHEL. (as LUCY approaches her above her) Lucy — if you speak to me, I’ll throw myself over the cliff, (goes to R.)

  LUCY. What’s the matter, dear?

  ETHEL. (sighs) I’m not twenty-one.

  LUCY. Oh, well, you will be soon.

  ETHEL. (impatiently) Oh, you’re so matter of fact. You don’t see what it implies; I’m always having to obey. And if I obey my father now, I shall have to obey Mr. Manners all the rest of my life. (crosses to L. c.) People live to be a hundred sometimes (sorrowfully) and I’m particularly healthy. Think — think of having to obey a total stranger eighty long years! (crosses to R.) I won’t do it! I won’t do it! (sits on seat R.)

  LUCY. (crosses to R. C.) You’ll get to know each other by that time.

  ETHEL. And the worst of it is, I have no excuse my father can understand. Herbert — Mr. Manners, is unobjectionable.

  LUCY. (pensively) Herbert — Bertie — it is a beautiful name.

  ETHEL. He’s not repulsive to look at.

  LUCY. I’ve only seen his photograph. That is quite lovely.

  ETHEL. He’s good-tempered.

  LUCY. HOW lucky for you.

  ETHEL. (with a glance of suspicion at LUCY, who steps back) Well educated ——

  LUCY. You have shown me some of his letters. His description of how his nose was frozen in Moscow was a poem.

  ETHEL. I say — I’m engaged to him you know — not you.

  LUCY. But you don’t want to marry him.

  ETHEL. Rather not. I will die first. (rises) Oh, I wish I could run away.

  LUCY. Oh! where to? (goes to her)

  ETHEL. TO London. I’d go on the stage.

  LUCY. Ethel!

  ETHEL. I would. I know Portia by heart. (crosses to c.) But what can I do, I can’t get to London. I’ve no money. I couldn’t walk it. Or bike it. (a step up L. C.) Ah! (looks off through gap up L.) There’s the river — !

  LUCY. (comes to C., horrified) Oh! You’re not thinking of that!

  ETHEL. (goes to LUCY) YOU silly! I mean, if I had a boat, I could drift with the tide. Wouldn’t it be romantic? (swings round LUCY to down R.)

  LUCY. Well (takes ETHEL to c.), look here, dear, we’ll put our heads together to-night when Mrs. Baldwin’s doing our hair. Now I’ll go and get you a cup of tea.

  (Exit L. 2 E.)

  ETHEL. (L. C., tragically) Tea! As if I could think of tea. (goes up c as LUCY disappears) Three lumps, mind, (turns up L. C., just in time to see SETON’S head appearing over the edge of the cliff up R|. C.) Gives a little scream) Oh!

  SETON. Oh, I say — I beg your pardon.

  ETHEL. What are you doing there?

  SETON. Hanging on!

  ETHEL. HOW dare you! (goes up L. C. a few steps)

  SETON. Well, if I didn’t, I should drop.

  ETHEL. Don’t you know these grounds are private?

  SETON. NO, I didn’t. I saw the flag and I just came up to have a look.

  ETHEL. DO you mean to say you climbed the face of the cliff?

  SETON. Well, I haven’t got wings — yet.

  ETHEL. This is Major Smedley’s garden, and you’d better go down before he catches you here.

  SETON. Thank you. Fact is, it’s not so easy to go down as it was to come up.

  ETHEL. (goes up to R. C., scornfully) Oh, if you’re afraid — (moves chair R. C. to c.)

  SETON. I wasn’t afraid to come up.

  ETHEL. (ventures to look over the railing with real concern) Oh — ! Why you’re on one foot.

  SETON. I know.

  ETHEL. If that stone gave way! — Give me your hand! Quick!

  SETON. Thanks so much.

  (Helped by her he vaults lightly over the railing and jumps into the garden. Fans himself with hat —

  ETHEL gets R.)

  ETHEL. Oh! (goes down R., suspiciously) I don’t believe you needed my help at all.

  SETON. (goes down R. C.) Awfully good of you, though.

  ETHEL. Well, now you’re safe —

  SETON. Get your flaming sword and turn me out.

  ETHEL. Flaming sword — I don’t know what you mean.

  SETON. (hat on) This is the garden of Eden, isn’t it — and you are the guardian angel.

  ETHEL. (pointing down the path R.) And that’s the way to the bathing machines.

  SETON. (laughs) Oh, there’s no hurry now.

  ETHEL. Indeed there is! You’re trespassing. (crosses to L. C.)

  SETON. (comes to c.) Oh come, I say. You invited me into your garden.

  ETHEL. (indignant) Invited — !

  SETON. Pulled me into it.

  ETHEL. Good afternoon. (pretending to go)

  SETON. NO — I say — don’t be offended. I — I’m I trying to remember who you are.

  ETHEL. (returning) Why, I’ve never seen you before.

  SETON. Oh — surely. My name’s Boyne — Seton Boyne, you know. Lieutenant on the Termagant.

  ETHEL. Good afternoon, Mr. Boyne. You are evidently confusing me with somebody else. (going) SETON. NO, don’t go away — if — if I don’t know you, I’ve no doubt I know a lot of people you know. (goes to her) Won’t you tell me your name?

  ETHEL. I’m not in the habit of talking to trespassers. — Oh!

  As she is going out L. her hair catches in a rose-bush, she tries to unfasten her hair.)

  SETON. Ah, there — you see — the rose is pleading for me. (he goes up to her) Let me help you.

  ETHEL. Thank you. I can manage quite well for myself.

  (She tries to disengage herself. SETON goes to C., watches her with mischievous triumph with his hands in his pockets.)

  SETON. All right. Only now you must listen. Shall you be home to-morrow morning? I’ll bring somebody who knows the Major to introduce me properly.

  ETHEL. I shall not be in.

  SETON. (goes to her) Yes, you will. We must meet again, you know.

  ETHEL. I don’t see the necessity.

  SETON. (steps back) Come! I risked my life to get to see you this time.

  ETHEL. Oh! You didn’t even know of my existence.

  SETON. Instinct — instinct (points up R. C.) pulled me up that cliff.

  ETHEL. (who has totally failed to free herself, impatiently) Oh, don’t you see I can’t get this wretched bramble out of my hair?

  SETON. (with enthusiasm) Ah — ! (a pause, while he works, holds her hand)

  ETHEL. HOW clumsy you are! (withdraws her hand)

  SETON. It makes me nervous. It’s like having sunbeams running through your fingers.

  ETHEL. (she smiles, then alarmed) Make haste! Some one’s coming.

  SETON. (severely) You’ll be at home to-morrow morning?

  ETHEL. I don’t know. — No.

  (SETON goes C., hands in pocket.)

  SETON. I can’t get the bramble out.

  ETHEL. Oh yes, then! Yes, yes!

  SETON. (goes to her) Promise.

  ETHEL. I promise. Oh, you are a coward.

  SETON. There! (frees her, she makes a face at him and runs away L. L E.)

  (SETON cu
ts off the branch of roses, kisses it, cuts his lips.)

  Oh!

  (And is just going off down path R. when enter DIBBS down L.)

  DIBBS. Hallo! (eyeing SETON suspiciously) Hulloa! (he turns to look down path L., and gives a suspicious whistle)

  SETON. (comes to R. C., easily) Morning. So — (lamely) so there you are!

  DIBBS. Ah, here I am! (alluding to flower-bed) Well, of all the —

  SETON. Awful mess, isn’t it?

  DIBBS. (eyeing him dubiously) Ah!

  SETON. I hate to see flowers trampled about like that. I’ve never seen finer ones. S’pose the young lady who was here just now did that.

  DIBBS. (staring) Oh you do, do you? Are you staying at the house, Mister?

  SETON. Er — no. Not exactly. (airily) I just dropped in. By the way — extraordinary thing — I forget the young lady’s name?

  DIBBS. Miss Ethel.

  SETON. Of course, yes. Miss Ethel — Miss Ethel!

  DIBBS. Smedley — daughter o’ Major Smedley, my guvernor.

  SETON. Oh yes, of course. I never saw such beautiful flowers — never. They’re a credit to you (tips DIBBS) — quite a credit to you. (another tip) I shall be here again to-morrow. We might have a chat — about flowers. What’s your name?

  DIBBS. Dibbs, sir. John Dibbs.

  SETON. I know. (confidentially) John Dibbs minds his own business, eh? (tip) and doesn’t speak until he’s spoken to, eh? (tip) (DIBBS looks off L., then at SETON and laughs) Well, good-bye for the present, John.

  (Exit R. 2 E., singing “Good-bye, Johnny, I must leave you.” etc.)

  DIBBS. (looking after him) I don’t know who you are, or what your game is, and (looking at money) damme if I care. (takes barrow to c below bed) You’re a gentleman, and that’s good enough for me. (rakes at flower-bed R.) And there’s precious few of ’em about.

  (Enter MRS. BALDWIN L. 2 E.)

  MRS. BALDWIN. (with well-bred languor) Good h’afternoon, Mr. Dibbs.

  DIBBS. (hastily laying down rake, and dusting his clothes with his hand R. c.) Good afternoon, Mrs. Baldwin, I hope I see you well.

  MRS. BALDWIN. (C.) Only so so, Mr. Dibbs, only so so. With one thing and another I’m that worritted, I don’t know whether I’m on my head or my heels.

  DIBBS. IS it them tenants o’ yours again, down to Hedge End?

  MRS. BALDWIN. Don’t talk about ’em. You know them two freehold cottages of mine?

  DIBBS. (puts rake on barrow — very anxiously) You ain’t been losing any money, ‘ave you?

  MRS. BALDWIN. Ah! you’ve got a feelin’ heart, Mr. Dibbs. It’s a pity you don’t have to collect weekly rents: that would harden it.