BAB. You will be heart-broken about me all your life?
TOM. Till the grave close on me.
BAB. Dear Tom, you make me so happy. Now, kiss me
passionately for the last time. You must see that it is
not my fault. (He is about to kiss her, then sadly lets
her go.)
DUET. — TOM and BAB.
TOM. O eyes that spoke to me of truth,
Farewell, deceptive mirror!
BAB. Thus you describe them, yet forsooth,
You look into the mirror!
TOM. Sweet mouth that pouted for my kiss,
Farewell, sweet lying mouth!
BAB. The words you’re using are amiss,
Yet sweet you call my mouth!
TOM. O heart that throbbed a tale untrue,
Farewell, you falsely beat!
BAB. Although it may not beat for you,
The words you say are sweet.
TOM. False one, farewell, I harm you not;
To him depart, and scathless;
Be mine to bear my dreary lot,
Struck down by woman faithless.
For you, a jilt, my heart has bled,
My cup with grief you fill.
Ah, tell me, empty little head,
Why ‘tis I love you still?
BAB. He loves me still, he loves me true,
He worships at my feet.
My heart may never beat for you,
And yet your words are sweet.
ENSEMBLE.
TOM. BAB.
‘Tis so; yet joy be thine, Ah, how can joy be mine,
Though hopeless future mine, If hopeless fate is thine?
Farewell! Farewell!
BAB (aside). Ah! am I sure that it is Jack whom I love
best? And yet, my promise!
JANE ANNIE steals downstairs.
BAB. Fly, Tom! It is Jane Annie, the sneak!
TOM hurries to window where JANE ANNIE meets him. The PROCTOR
comes stealthily out of clock.
PROCTOR. Name and college!
TOM jumps through the window , PROCTOR seizes JANE ANNIE. BAB
listens unseen.
JANE A. Unhand me! I am Jane Annie, the model girl od the
school.
PROCTOR. You are Bab, the flirting-girl!
JANE A. You are mistaken, I —
PROCTOR. Mistaken! — I! Have I not told you that I am a
Proctor?
JANE A. It was Bab who was flirting, and I came to warn you.
PROCTOR. Yes, it was Bab, and you are Bab. (Seeing BAB.) Girl,
what is the name of this chit?
BAB. That is Bab, sir, and my name is Jane Annie.
JANE A. Oh!
PROCTOR. Exactly! She has assumed your name.
BAB. Oh, Bab, how could you!
PROCTOR. I caught her in the act of eloping with an
undergraduate through this window.
BAB. Naughty!
JANE A. You wicked little wretch! Sir, I am —
PROCTOR. You are about to be shut up in your bedroom for the
night. Which is her room, Jane Annie?
JANE A. You —
BAB. In the attic there.
PROCTOR. Come!
PROCTOR drags JANE ANNIE upstairs, and pushes her into her room.
BAB. I hope poor Tom didn’t hurt himself, though I believe
he went away blaming me. Men are so unreasonable!
PROCTOR (coming down). Well, Jane Annie, why don’t you go to
bed?
A letter is thrown through the window.
PROCTOR. A letter! and through the window!
BAB (aside). Oh, it is from Jack! We are ruined!
PROCTOR. It has no address. For whom can it be meant?
BAB. Oh, give it to me, sir?
PROCTOR. To you, child? Never! It is my duty to open it myself.
(Opens and reads.) “Ten past nine.” Ten past nine! I
am waiting for you in the garden.” Ha! what plot is
this that I have unearthed? Who is waiting in the
garden, and for whom?
BAB (aside). Oh, what shall I do? Ha! Have I not heard that
Miss Sims and he were sweethearts? (To PROCTOR.) Can
you not see?
PROCTOR. No, I can’t; and if I can’t, it’s perfectly certain
that no one else can.
BAB. I know whom the letter is from.
PROCTOR. From whom, child?
BAB. It is from Miss Sims.
PROCTOR. From Dinah?
BAB. Precisely.
PROCTOR. And for whom is she waiting?
BAB. Why, for you, of course. Oh, sir, have pity upon this
poor lady’s heart.
PROCTOR. Ha! “Ten past nine!” She means me! Of course it is
addressed to me. “Ten past nine, I am waiting for you
in the garden.” Excuse me, child! (Exit.)
BAB. Oh, Jack is outside, and I do trust they will not meet.
It was my only chance. Now I must put on my hat and
coat and slip out to join him.
Exit into bedroom. JANE ANNIE comes downstairs.
JANE A. That little wretch Bab will find that ia m not so
easily foiled. Let me see, I need darkness, because I
am such a good girl. (Turns down the lights.) Oh! who
is this?
Enter JACK in a cloak.
JACK. Bab, come! (Sees JANE ANNIE and runs forward.)
JANE A. I am not Bab!
JACK. Oh, Lord! the wrong one. (Takes to his heels, dropping
the cloak in his haste.)
JANE A. What a superior young man! His cloak! (Puts it on.) In
this light she might mistake me for him! (Swaggers
about in military fashion.) Oh, I will lay such a
beautiful trap for her! (Retires to back of stage, and
conceals herself by the curtain.)
Enter BAB, dressed for travelling, and with several packages.
BAB. Farewell, dear old school — the nicest school in the
world to get away from! If I were only sure that I am
not making a mistake! They say that there was a girl
who eloped from here once, and that she was unhappy,
and that her spirit still haunts these rooms. Tom, Tom!
shall I take this final step which is to divide us? Oh!
what is that?
VOICES IN THE AIR.
Little maiden, pause and ponder,
Life is cruel, life is dreary.
Little feet, why should you wander
On to paths so rough and weary?
Ere you snap the final link,
Little maiden, pause and think!
BAB. Oh, I am so frightened. What shall I do?
JANE ANNIE comes forward, enveloped in JACK’s cloak.
JANE A. Come!
BAB. Jack, I cannot!
JANE A. Quick!
BAB. Oh, Jack, be good to me! Do be careful of this packet.
It is awfully, awfully important. It is my curling
tongs. (Gives packet.) The carriage is awaiting us, of
course. That contains your letters Jack, and these are
some little things — and take this bag. And now,
darling, carry me down, for I am going to faint!
She falls into JANE ANNIE’s arms, who lets the things fall,
seizes her and screams. Ringing of bells, and general alarm.
PRESS STUDENTS come rushing upstairs. MISS SIMS enters, all
stare at JANE ANNIE holding BAB, who seems to have fainted from
fright.
FINALE.
PRESS STUDENTS. Madam, do no think us rude in
On your privacy intrudin’;
We are Students Journalistic,
Keen on copy, plain or mystic,
Commonplace or transcendental,
Psychic, physical, or mental,
News we’ll have, and through you, madam,
For we’ll interview you, madam.
That’s so flat, nought could be flatter,
Tell us quickly, what’s the matter?
What’s the matter? What’s the matter?
GIRLS run out of their rooms in various stages of deshabille.
GIRLS. Madam, when we heard this screaming,
Scarcely sure if we were dreaming,
Curiosity controlled us,
And we came as you behold us,
Trim or ruffled, tossed or dapper,
Clad in dressing gown or wrapper,
We are kneeling to you, madam,
News to get, and through you, madam.
Think not this is idle chatter,
But inform us what’s the matter?
What’s the matter? What’s the matter?
ENSEMBLE.
PRESS STUDENTS. GIRLS.
News we’ll have, and We are kneeling to you,
through you, madam, etc. madam, etc.
MISS SIMS. Jane Annie, what is this?
Bab, what were you doing in her arms?
BAB. Miss Sims, forgive me! I thought she was a gentleman.
MISS SIMS. Oh, infamous! To your rooms, all, this instant!
Exeunt MISS SIMS, BAB, JANE ANNIE, and GIRLS.
PRESS STUDENTS (taking notes eagerly).
School aristocratic,
The scene most dramatic,
Plot unsystematic,
And very erratic,
Jane Annie ecstatic,
Her victory emphatic,
She won it by stealing
Down from the attic.
Enter PROCTOR furiously.
PRESS STUDENTS. We’re glad to interview you,
To get a column through you,
And note what you may say.
See now how we will do him,
While we seem to interview him,
In our frank, new-fashioned way.
Are Proctors men of learning?
Do you spend more than you’re earning?
And how much do you owe?
Of women do you think much?
On occasion do you drink much?
PROCTOR. Emphatically, no!
PRESS STUDENTS (writing). Proctors have no acumen,
And no respect for women.
PROCTOR. Yes, yes! I meant to say!
PRESS STUDENTS (writing). In debt and boasts about it.
Love’s grog — can’t do without it.
Must have it night and day.
PROCTOR. My words you’re misconstruing,
That is not interviewing.
PRESS STUDENTS. Yes, this is interviewing,
In the frank, new-fashioned way.
PROCTOR. If you’ll suppress this fable,
I’ll tell you, if I’m able,
A recent incident.
(Aside). Diverting their attention,
I’ll draw from my invention
Some singular event.
SOLO. — PROCTOR.
There was once a man in a seaside town,
And his name it was — what was it?
I know it wasn’t Smith, and I’m sure it wasn’t Brown,
But it was — oh, Lor’, what was it?
I very much want to tell you all,
You’d love to know about it;
But just this point I can’t recall,
And as it’s immaterial,
We’d best go on without it.
A widow lived in the same hotel,
Her name it was — you know it!
He stole to her and whispered — well,
He whispered, well — Oh, blow it!
I very much want to tell you all,
You’d love to know about it;
But just this point I can’t recall,
And as it’s immaterial,
I’d best go on without it.
But when the lady heard this speech,
Down to the pier she flew then,
Threw up her arms, and with a screech,
She — she — Oh, dear! what did she do then?
I very much want to tell you all,
You’d love to know about it;
But just this point I don’t recall,
And as it’s most material,
I can’t go on without it.
Enter SIM and GREG.
SIM. At last we’ve got him, sir,
PROCTOR (not heeding). Away!
SIM. Him that dangled after her!
PROCTOR. Hurray!
(addressing PRESS STUDENTS). To catch an undergraduate I came,
SIM and GREG (perplexed). Of this there’s question none,
He is an undergraduate,
In all respects but one.
That one to mention we forgot,
It’s odd to me and mate,
It’s this, that somehow he is not
An undergraduate!
JACK steps forward, CADDIE holding him.
ALL. Why, evidently he is not
An undergraduate!
MILLY (from balcony). Oh, sir, take care
Of one so fair
Let his complexion
Plead with you for him!
JACK. An officer I,
Strolling by,
Smoking a Henry Clay,
These men I met,
They me beset
In a most unseemly way.
Of girls they spoke,
Which spoilt my smoke,
For the sex I do not care about.
I’ve not address’t
Them e’en in jest
Since ‘85 — or there about.
They dragged me here,
By brute force sheer,
But this doth chiefly jar.
Your page, I find,
We left behind
Smoking my big cigar.
And therefore I
Your school defy,
Oh, I do not stand in awe of you;
For spoilt have they
My Henry Clay,
And I mean to have the law of you.
Exit JACK.
Re-enter GIRLS.
PROCTOR. No I am trepanned and done brown.
PRESS STUDENTS. We hear you, and we’ve got it down.
Enter MISS SIMS and JANE ANNIE.
MISS SIMS (to JANE ANNIE). We owe all too you, it appears!
So what can I do?
GIRLS. Box her ears!
JANE ANNIE. To be good I try hard,
GIRLS. Ain’t she meek?
JANE ANNIE. And I ask no reward,
GIRLS. Oh, the sneak!
JANE ANNIE. Yet if I should take
Something nice,
They may learn to forsake
Ways of vice.
PRESS STUDENTS. Stop a moment—”Forsake!”
“Ways of vice!”
JANE ANNIE. Now the good-conduct prize,
GIRLS. Oh, how mean!
JANE ANNIE. Seems good to my eyes,
GIRLS. Which are green!
JANE ANNIE. So if you agree
That I’m right,
Why not give it me
Well — to-night?
PRESS STUDENTS. Stop a moment—”Agree”
“To to-night.”
MISS SIMS. Dear pupils, see, to my bosom I fold her,
The prize shall be hers ere she’s five minutes older.
Exeunt MISS SIMS, PROCTOR, BULLDOGS, and CADDIE.
JANE ANNIE. The girl who’s good, demure, correct,
Cannot preserve her self-respect,
And mine I would regain.
So having got the prize to-night,
To-morrow I, with all my might,
Will be an imp again!
Girls, I am naughty from this hour,
And six long months of wickedness,
By virtue of my magic power,
Into one day I will compress!
ALL. Jane Annie’s naughty from this hour,
But oh! what is this
magic power?
CADDIE sends PRESS STUDENTS away.
SONG. — JANE ANNIE.
When I was a little piccaninny,
Only about so high,
I’d a baby’s bib and a baby’s pinny
And a queer little gimlet eye.
They couldn’t tell why that tiny eye
Would make them writhe and twist,
They found it so, but how could they know
That the babe was a hypnotist?
ALL. Now think of that! this tiny brat
Was a bit of a hypnotist!
JANE ANNIE. And as I grew my power grew too,
For we were one, you see,
And what I willed the folk would do
At a wave or a glance from me.
I could “suggest” what pleased me best,
And still can, when I list,
And Madam Card will find it hard
To beat this hypnotist!
ALL. Oh, think of it! This little chit
Is a mighty mesmerist!
DANCE.
Enter MISS SIMS, BULLDOGS, PRESS STUDENTS, and CADDIE in
procession. PAGE bearing prize. GIRLS become demure.
MISS SIMS. To Jane Annie this prize I present,
And in it I’ve writ this inscription —
Delphi Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated) Page 922