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Delphi Complete Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Illustrated)

Page 923

by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

“Awarded a hundred per cent.

  For goodness of every description.”

  (Presents prize.)

  MISS SIMS, BULLDOGS, and PAGE.

  Hail, oh hail to the modest maiden!

  Hail, oh hail to the downcast eyes!

  Now with all our plaudits laden,

  See, she takes the well-earned prize.

  Hail, Jane Annie, hail!

  GIRLS. Hail, oh hail to the scheming maiden,

  Hail, oh hail to the roguish eye!

  Now she stands with honours laden,

  They will know her by-and-bye.

  Hail, Jane Annie, hail!

  ENSEMBLE.

  MISS SIMS, BULLDOGS, etc.

  Hail, oh hail to her we honour!

  Hail, oh hail to the blushing cheek!

  Place the laurel wreath upon her,

  See her crowned, and good, and meek!

  Hail, Jane Annie, hail!

  GIRLS.

  Hail, oh hail to her they honour!

  Hail to her unblushing cheek!

  Place the laurel wreath upon her,

  See her trying to look meek.

  Hail, Jane Annie, hail!

  CURTAIN.

  ACT II.

  SCENE. — Golf green near the school. River at back. BAB, a

  prisoner, is walking up and down in CADDIE’s charge.

  SONG. — CADDIE.

  A page-boy am I

  That young ladies decry,

  Yes, yes, dears, you do, for I hear yer;

  But it’s little you know

  The volcanoes that glow

  Inside of this little exterior.

  Oh, you wouldn’t deride,

  Could you step inside

  Of this here pocket edition,

  And, striking a light,

  Perceive that this mite

  Is on fire with a grand ambition.

  BAB. But at present the buttons he’s wearing,

  And he’s taking me out for an airing.

  (Walks up and down.)

  CADDIE. My wife I shall choose

  From the class called the Blues,

  Whose theory is that they hates men,

  Of birthplaces galore

  I mean to have more

  Than him wot’s the eminent statesman.

  A peerage I’ll take

  For my progeny’s sake,

  To refuse it I think would be shabby,

  And I ask poor and rich

  To my funeral, which

  Will be held in Westminster Abbey.

  Oh, you wouldn’t deride, etc.

  Cries of “Fore! Fore!”

  BAB. The girls are playing golf. (She holds up flag.)

  CADDIE. Girls! Poor summer flies!

  BAB. Do let me play, Caddie.

  CADDIE. It’s agin the Missus’ orders. I’m your jailer, I am,

  and Miss Sims’s words were: “Give the wench a little

  exercise, but never leave her for a moment, or she will

  be eloping again; and if she does,” said she, “you just

  pull the big fire bell.”

  BAB. But why not let me elope, Caddie? See, I go on my knees

  to you. (Kneels.)

  CADDIE. Get up! Get up!

  BAB (rising). Cold, relentless! You have never loved!

  CADDIE. Have I not? By gum!

  BAB. You in love. With whom?

  CADDIE (sadly). It’s all over for ever, no more.

  BAB. She jilted you?

  CADDIE. Well, it came to the same thing, I jilted her.

  BAB. Why?

  CADDIE. I wanted a bigger one.

  BAB. And have you got a bigger one?

  CADDIE. I have.

  BAB. Whom?

  CADDIE (pointing off stage). You see that agreeable

  circumference coming this way?

  BAB. Yes.

  CADDIE. Well, that’s my new one.

  BAB. Jane Annie!

  BAB goes sadly up stage. A golf ball lands on green, CADDIE

  pockets it. Enter JANE ANNIE with golf club. She looks for her

  ball. CADDIE looks longingly at her and sighs aloud.

  CADDIE. My charmer!

  JANE A. Caddie, did you see my ball?

  CADDIE. No, Miss, no balls have come this way.

  JANE A. It is a strange thing that when you are acting as

  caddie nearly all our balls get lost.

  CADDIE. Yes, Miss.

  JANE A. And what is stranger still, those same lost balls are

  afterwards offered us for sale at your mother’s shop in

  the village.

  CADDIE. Ah, it be a puzzling world, Miss.

  JANE A. (putting her hand in his pocket and producing ball).

  Now it seems to me that this is my ball.

  CADDIE. Extraordinary thing!

  JANE A. How did it get there?

  CADDIE. You must have played it into my pocket, Miss.

  JANE A. Fibber! I feel sure that it fell dead just on the edge

  of the hole — here. (Puts ball close to hall.)

  CADDIE. No, Miss, now that you mention the circumstance, I

  recollect that I picked it out of the bunker.

  JANE A. Pooh! nonsense!

  CADDIE. Is this fair, Miss?

  JANE A. Of course it’s fair, so long as nobody sees me.

  Besides, I’m told they often do it at Felixstowe.

  Why, even Mr. Balf — (CADDIE signs silence to her,

  pointing to private box as if fearful lest they should

  be overheard. Exit CADDIE.)

  BAB. Sneak!

  JANE A. Are you a prisoner, Bab?

  BAB. Yes, thanks to you. I shall tell everybody how good you

  have been. (Sits down on rug.)

  JANE A. How hateful of you to threaten to take away my

  character.

  BAB. Goody! Goody! Goody!

  JANE A. (sitting down beside BAB). I’m not really good.

  BAB. Yes, you are. You sha’n’t sit on my rug. (Pulls it

  away.) Why, you promised last night to be dreadfully

  naughty to-day, so as to make up for your goodness of

  the past six months, and here you are as shamelessly

  good as ever.

  JANE A. You do me an injustice. The fun is about to begin.

  Early this morning I hypnotized our dear mistress, and

  made her write the most dreadful letters. Just

  fancy, two of them were invitations to Tom and Jack to

  come and bring as many male friends with them as they

  could get together. She has not the least idea of what

  she has done, of course! Ha! ha!

  BAB. But why have you done this?

  JANE A. So that in the confusion Tom and Jack may carry off the

  girl of their heart.

  BAB. But I can only marry one of them.

  JANE A. Yes, but I can marry the other.

  BAB. You! But I haven’t selected mine yet. That is my

  difficulty.

  JANE A. No, but I have! That removes your difficulty.

  BAB. You toad!

  JANE A. The one I have chosen is Jack.

  BAB. Jack! Does he know?

  JANE A. No, I am keeping it a surprise for him.

  BAB. I don’t believe a word you have said.

  JANE A. You can have my aid if you will promise to take Tom and

  leave Jack for me. You can’t elope without my aid.

  BAB. I shall.

  JANE A. You sha’n’t!

  BAB. Goody! Goody! Goody!

  Cries of “Fore! Fore!” are heard, and a ball lands on the green.

  JANE A. The girls.

  BAB. Goody! Goody! Goody!

  GIRLS enter in golf costume. JANE ANNIE, ROSE, MEG, and MILLY are

  playing a foursome; the others are looking on. CADDIE accompanies

  them as caddie.

  CHORUS OF GIRLS.

  To golf is sta
id for bashful maid,

  So our schoolmistress thinks,

  That’s why, ‘tis said, Queen Mary played

  On famed St. Andrew’s links.

  BAB (holding up her club). Niblick! }

  JANE ANNIE (holding up her club). Driver! }

  MILLY (holding up her club). Putter! }

  MEG (holding up her club). Brassy! }

  BAB. One up!

  JANE ANNIE. Two to play!

  ALL. We play the game as that Scotch lassie,

  Mary, used to play.

  This verse is sung with spirit; the second dejectedly.

  GIRLS. The game was gay in Mary’s day,

  Her foursomes were not lonely,

  Maybe ‘cause they had not to play

  On greens for ladies only!

  BAB (as before). Niblicks! }

  JANE ANNIE (as before). Drivers! }

  MILLY (as before). Putters! }

  MEG (as before). Brassies! }

  BAB. One up!

  JANE ANNIE. Two to play!

  GIRLS. For partners we have only lassies,

  Which was not Mary’s way.

  MEG plays at hole and misses. CADDIE chuckles.

  JANE A. You have flung away the hole.

  ROSE plays at hole and misses. CADDIE grins.

  MILLY. Silly! (ROSE weeps. MILLY plays into hole.) Hurrah!

  Rose and I have done this hole in seventeen!

  Enter MISS SIMS.

  MISS S. Young ladies, as it is the last day of the term our

  rules may be a little relaxed.

  MILLY. Oh, you dear kind thing!

  MISS S. Except in the case of Bab, who must remain a prisoner

  all day.

  BAB. Oh! Oh! Oh!

  MISS S. So we shall admit some men to to-day’s festivities.

  ALL. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

  MISS S. But not real men.

  ROSE. Boys?

  MILLY. Oh, I’m going to bed!

  MISS S. No, but half of you may be permitted for this day only

  to assume the character of men. It will be quite as

  amusing.

  ALL (dismally). Oh!

  MISS S. And very much safer.

  MILLY (brightening). Perhaps this game will provide an answer

  to a question in deportment which has often puzzled me.

  It is this. Suppose a gentleman were to put his arm

  round me, what would be the right thing for me to do?

  ROSE. The right thing would be to scream.

  MILLY. No. I think the right thing would be not to let on, so

  that he shouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing that

  you noticed it.

  BAB. I know what I should do if a man put his arm round me -

  - I would stand still.

  MISS S. Shameless! And what would you do, Jane Annie?

  JANE A. I would run to you, madam, for protection.

  MISS S. (fondling her). Dear Jane Annie! (To girls.) Now go.

  Exeunt girls. BAB goes last in charge of CADDIE.

  MISS S. Now, Jane Annie, dear, there is something strange I

  want to speak to you about. You remember when you left

  me in the study this morning?

  JANE A. Yes, Miss Sims.

  MISS S. Well, I must have dropped asleep immediately

  afterwards, and I had the oddest dreams.

  JANE A. (chuckles, but assumes an air of sympathy as MISS SIMS

  turns towards her). Dreams, Miss Sims?

  MISS S. Oh, the strangest dreams! I seemed to be writing such a

  number of letters, but what they were about I cannot

  imagine.

  JANE A. Of course it was all fancy!

  MISS S. But ten envelopes were missing when I woke.

  JANE A. No!

  MISS S. And my fingers were quite inky. I do hope I have not

  done anything foolish in my sleep.

  JANE A. I hope not.

  MISS S. Especially just now, while the Proctor is here.

  JANE A. Why specially while he is here?

  MISS S. Ah, Jane Annie, he and I were once — (Sighs.)

  JANE A. No, were you?

  MISS S. I assure you he often — (Sighs.)

  JANE A. Did he? Where?

  MISS S. In the conservatory.

  JANE A. Just where they do it to-day.

  MISS S. But, alas! he — (Sighs.)

  JANE A. How horrid of him.

  MISS S. And so his presence here makes me think of early days

  when — (Sighs.)

  JANE A. Naturally.

  SONG. — MISS SIMS.

  A girl again I seem to be,

  Though I’m an old schoolmistress grey;

  Again a boy comes courting me,

  Though he’s a hard-faced man to-day.

  He calls me little golden-head,

  I feel his kisses on my brow,

  I still recall the words he said,

  Though I’m an old schoolmistress now,

  Youth dreams of what’s to be, I ween,

  The future’s always far away;

  But age must dream of what has been,

  The past is always yesterday.

  We meet, but he does not recall

  The golden head, the love-lit eyes;

  Our meetings and our partings all

  To him are less than memories.

  He twits the old schoolmistress prim,

  Forgetful of his broken vow,

  And that she owes it all to him

  That she’s an old schoolmistress now.

  Youth dreams of what’s to be, I ween, etc.

  MISS SIMS is retiring up stage. She returns excitedly.

  MISS S. There is a party of those impertinent Press Students

  coming sown the river, who look as if they intended to

  land upon our bank.

  JANE A. (in horror). Oh, surely it cannot be. (Aside with

  exultation.) The result of letter number one.

  MISS S. Let us go and fetch Caddie to protect us.

  Exeunt MISS SIMS and JANE ANNIE. Song of Oarsmen heard in the

  distance and coming nearer.

  BARCAROLLE. — PRESS STUDENTS

  Where the willows shade the river,

  Where the leaning rushes quiver,

  Where the water weeds are shining,

  Some enfolding, some entwining,

  There we go! Cheerily oh!

  Eight like one we dip and feather!

  Steadily now! Stroke and bow!

  Pulling along and all together!

  They land, TOM among them.

  Enter MISS SIMS, JANE ANNIE, and CADDIE.

  MISS S. (shrinking from them). The wretches! (To CADDIE.) Order

  them to go at once, Caddie.

  CADDIE (turning up his sleeves fiercely). Come now, you had

  best go quietly.

  TOM. What does this sprat mean?

  CADDIE. Sprat! Summer flies! Now, look here, are you going

  quietly, or must I chuck the blooming lot of you into

  the river?

  TOM. There is some mistake, madam — we came here by

  invitation.

  CADDIE. Look here, I know that game.

  MISS S. Impossible! By whose invitation?

  TOM (producing letter). By yours — here is your letter.

  (Hands it to her.)

  JANE A. (aside). Exquisite!

  MISS S. (reading). “Dear Mr. Tom, as I have seen you in the

  neighbourhood of my school more than once, I venture to

  ask whether you will do me the honour of attending a

  garden party which I am giving to my girls this

  afternoon. I want to show them a little life. Please

  bring a few of those pleasant Press Students, and be

  sure to come in cap and gown. It will be a free and

  easy affair. My girls join me in sending love, and I am

  yours
sincerely, Dinah Sims.” Oh!

  CADDIE (shocked). Well, of all the — ! The old girl is coming

  out of her hegg at last. (Exit.)

  MISS S. Oh, Jane Annie, is it not dreadful? I could not have

  written such a letter.

  JANE A. Well, it is certainly in your writing.

  TOM (aside). Now to look for Bab. (Exit.)

  Enter CADDIE.

  CADDIE. If you please, ma’am, the man has come with the Scotch

  whisky.

  MISS S. Whisky! there is some mistake. I never ordered any.

  CADDIE. Why, ma’am, you sent me this morning with a letter to

  the wine-merchant, ordering two dozen of whisky and one

 

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