GRAINGER: Oh chuck it, Billy.
BRENTNALL: What the Hanover’s the good of chucking it? You’re not a blooming cock robin, to take no thought for the morrow.
Enter MRS PLUM with the collars.
MRS PLUM: Gee, I’m sorry I forgot ‘em, Dr Grainger. I’m ever so sorry.
GRAINGER: Don’t fret yourself about that, Mrs Plum. You’re all right, you are.
MRS PLUM: Gee, but I can’t get it out of my head, that there what you’ve just told me.
GRAINGER: You want to sneeze hard, Mrs Plum. That’ll shift it.
MRS PLUM (laughing): Hee-hee — hark you there now. And have you got rid of it off your mind, Dr Grainger?
GRAINGER: My head’s as clear as a bell o’ brass, Mrs Plum. Nothing ails me.
MRS PLUM: My word, it doesn’t. My word, but you’re looking well, you’re a sight better than when you come. Isn’t he, Mr Brentnall?
BRENTNALL: He’s too healthy for anything, Mrs Plum — he’s so healthy, he’d walk slap into a brick wall, and never know he’d hurt himself.
MRS PLUM: Gee — I don’t know. But that there as you told me, Dr Grainger —
GRAINGER: Here, you go and see if that’s Jack Magneer, and if it is, let him come up.
MRS PLUM: You’re a caution, you are that, Dr Grainger.
Exit MRS PLUM.
BRENTNALL: The girl is gone on you, the kid is yours. You are a married man, and you mean to abide by your family?
GRAINGER: What the devil else is there to do?
BRENTNALL: Very well. Have you bothered about another job?
GRAINGER: No — I did when I was in Wolverhampton. Look what a fiendish business it is, offering yourself and being refused like a dog.
BRENTNALL: So you’ve taken no steps.
GRAINGER: No.
BRENTNALL: And you’ve absolutely no idea what you’re going to do on Saturday, when you’ve finished here?
GRAINGER: No.
BRENTNALL: And yet you mean to stick by your wife and kid?
GRAINGER: What else can I do?
BRENTNALL: Well, you’re a beauty! You’re just skulking, like a frightened rabbit.
GRAINGER: Am I, begad?
BRENTNALL: Are you fond of the kid?
GRAINGER: I shouldn’t like anything to happen to it.
BRENTNALL: Neither should I. But the feelings of your breast towards it — ?
GRAINGER: Well, I’m a lot fonder of that youngster at my digs in Wolverhampton — you know —
BRENTNALL: Then you feel no paternal emotion?
GRAINGER: No. Don’t talk rot.
BRENTNALL: How often have you been over to see your wife?
GRAINGER: Once.
BRENTNALL: Once since you were married?
GRAINGER: Yes.
BRENTNALL: And that when the baby was first born?
GRAINGER: Yes.
BRENTNALL: And you’re living — which, a recluse, or a gay bachelor?
GRAINGER: You can imagine me a recluse.
BRENTNALL: You’re a blossom, Georgie, you’re a jewel of a muddler.
GRAINGER: How could I help it! I was careful enough with the girl — I never thought, to tell you the truth, that — here’s Jack!
BRENTNALL: That what?
GRAINGER: Shut up. Jack’s a fine fellow.
BRENTNALL: Needs to be, to match you.
GRAINGER: Now Bill Brentnall, none of your sark.
JACK’S VOICE: How long are you going to be?
GRAINGER: How-do Jack! Shan’t be a sec. Come up.
Enter JACK MAGNEER — aged 33 — very big, a farmer, something of a gentleman, wears leggings and breeches, and a black bow tie.
JACK: Seem to be donning yourselves up — how are you?
GRAINGER: Mr Magneer — Mr Brentnall: Jack — Billy.
JACK: Yis, quite so. How are you, Billy?
BRENTNALL: I’m very well. You’re Miss Magneer’s brother?
GRAINGER: Sally’s.
JACK: Yis, I am, and what of it?
BRENTNALL: Oh — only you are lucky.
GRAINGER whistles gaily.
JACK: What you whistling for, George lad? Aren’t I lucky?
GRAINGER: I wish Sally was my sister, Jack.
JACK: Yis, you do, an’ so do I, George lad — then me an’ you’d be brothers. — Oh, my good God, are you going to be all night titivating yourselves up?
GRAINGER: Jack’s in a hurry.
JACK: No I’m not, but damn it all —
GRAINGER: Alright Jacko, alright. I know she’s a very nice girl —
BRENTNALL: Where are you taking me?
GRAINGER: To see some real fine girls.
JACK: Not so much fine girls, Billy — some damn nice girls, nice girls, mind you.
GRAINGER: Quite right, Jacko. (Seriously.) No, but they are, Billy, real nice girls. Three sisters, orphans.
JACK: An’ the oldest of them will happen to be Mrs Grainger — eh, what?
GRAINGER: Liar!
JACK: You see Billy, it’s like this. I’m glad you’ve come, because it levels us up. I believe you’re a nice chap. Don’t you take me wrong. I mean you’re not one of these damn sods as can see nowt in a girl but — you know.
BRENTNALL: Yes.
GRAINGER: Yes, Billy knows. Most moral young man.
JACK: Fooling apart, George, aren’t they nice girls?
GRAINGER: Really nice girls, they are.
JACK: But you see, there’s three of ‘em — an’ we’ve never been but two of us — d’you twig?
BRENTNALL: I twig.
JACK: But no fooling, mind you.
BRENTNALL: Thanks for your caution, Mr Magneer.
JACK: Oh no, no. Nothing of the sort: only they are nice girls — you see what I mean — oh no, Billy —
GRAINGER: And three of ‘em.
BRENTNALL: And the odd one falls to me. Thanks, I was born to oblige.
JACK: Now Billy, no. I want you t’have a good time. You see what I mean. I’m willing to step aside. You’re here only for a bit — I’m always here. So I want you —
GRAINGER: “I want all of you t’have a good time.”
JACK: Yis, I do. I do that, George.
GRAINGER: That’s always Jacko’s cry — ”I want you t’have it your own road. I’m willing any road. I want you t’have a good time.” Self-effacing chap is Jack.
BRENTNALL: Do I put on a dinner jacket?
GRAINGER: Good God, no — have you brought one?
BRENTNALL: Well — I might have to dine at some people’s down towards Ashbourne.
CURTAIN
ACT II
A long, low dining-room — table laid for supper — bowls of crimson and white flowers, a large lamp — an old-fashioned room, furnished with taste.
The oldest MISS CALLADINE — aged 32, tall, slim, pale, dressed in black, wearing Parma violets, looks ladylike, but rather yearning. She walks about restlessly. Enter DR GRAINGER.
ANNIE: Aren’t you late?
GRAINGER: A little — waiting for my friend. He’s gone round to “The George” with Jack — some arrangement about farm stock. (He takes both her hands, which she offers him yearningly, and, after glancing round, kisses her hastily, as if unwillingly.) Where’s Emily?
ANNIE: Emily and Ada are both entertaining Mrs Wesson in the drawing-room. I hope they’ll get rid of her before Jack comes. I’m afraid we are being talked about. I’m afraid I’m not doing my duty by the girls.
GRAINGER: What do you mean?
ANNIE: You are here so often.
GRAINGER: I’m going away directly, so you’ll be safe after Saturday.
ANNIE: Really going away on Saturday — really — really. (Puts her hands on his shoulders.)
GRAINGER: That’s right.
ANNIE: Then people will talk more than ever. I shall be considered loose: and what’s to become of the girls —
GRAINGER: You considered loose — oh Cæsar!
ANNIE: Where are you going?
GRAINGER: Don’t know.
ANNIE: Why won’t you tell me?
GRAINGER: Because I don’t know. I am waiting for a letter — it will come to-morrow. Either I shall be going to Scotland, or down to London — one or the other, but I don’t know which.
ANNIE: Scotland or London!
GRAINGER: I hope it’s London.
ANNIE: Why do you?
GRAINGER: Well — more life, for one thing.
ANNIE: And is it “life” you want? That sort of life?
GRAINGER: Not that sort, exactly — but — oh, by the way, I told you I was bringing my friend —
ANNIE: Mr Brentnall — yes.
GRAINGER: Well, don’t be surprised if I seem rather different tonight, will you? Billy’s very circumspect, very circumspect — nice, mind you, but good.
ANNIE: I see.
GRAINGER: You’ll like him though.
ANNIE (bitingly): In spite of his goodness.
GRAINGER: Yes, I know you like “life” better than “goodness” — don’t you now?
He puts his hand under her chin.
ANNIE (drawing away): You seem to know a great deal about me.
GRAINGER: I know what you want.
ANNIE: What?
GRAINGER (glancing round to see if he is safe — taking her in his arms, pressing her close, kissing her. She submits because she can scarcely help herself — there is a sound of feet and voices — he hastily releases her): That!
ANNIE (struggling with herself): Indeed no, Dr Grainger.
GRAINGER: That’s the ticket — keep it up, Annie.
Enter EMILY and ADA CALLADINE — EMILY, aged 27, quiet, self-possessed, dressed all in black — ADA, aged 23 — rather plump, handsome, charmingly young and wicked-looking — dressed in black and purple, with a crimson flower.
ANNIE: Has Mrs Wesson gone?
ADA: Not before she heard a man’s voice — I told her you were engaged.
GRAINGER: You what?
ADA (bursting with laughter): I told her Annie was engaged.
ANNIE (severely): With a caller, you mean, Ada?
GRAINGER: Oh, I see.
ADA: Yes — oh yes — oh how funny!
GRAINGER: Not funny at all — Jack’s doing some business round at “The George”, Emily.
EMILY: Is he?
GRAINGER (discomfited): I think I’ll go and hurry them up.
ADA: Do!
ANNIE: You think it is quite safe to bring your good friend here?
GRAINGER: Oh, quite safe, Annie — don’t be alarmed. Ta-ta!
Exit GRAINGER. He is heard running down the stairs.
ANNIE: I don’t think Dr Grainger improves on acquaintance.
ADA: We’ve never got any further with him, so we can’t say.
EMILY: Why do you think so, Annie?
ANNIE (rather haughtily): You would not guess what he said to me.
ADA: I think you’ve given him rather a long rope.
ANNIE (with dignity): If I have, he’s hit me across the face with it.
EMILY: What did he say, Annie?
ANNIE: He is bringing a friend — a school and college friend — in a bank in London now — rather genteel, I believe. Well, Dr Grainger said to me this evening: “You know my friend is very circumspect, very circumspect, so you won’t be surprised if my behaviour is rather different this evening.”
ADA: Oh indeed!
EMILY: You should have kept him more in his place, Annie.
ANNIE: I should, but I thought he was a gentleman. I don’t know how we’re going to receive them this evening.
EMILY: We need simply take no notice of him, and be just polite.
ANNIE: But we don’t know what he may have told his friend about us.
EMILY: I never cared for him.
ADA: Oh, what ripping fun!
ANNIE: Ada, be careful what you do and say.
ADA: It’s not I who’ve put my foot in it. It is you if anyone.
ANNIE: I have been too free, perhaps; but you cannot say I have put my foot in it. I wish I had never admitted Dr Grainger at all — but he came with Jack —
EMILY: We shall go through alright with it. Simply despise Dr Grainger.
ANNIE: He is despicable.
ADA: He is here.
ANNIE: Emily, will you go downstairs and receive them? ADA, you stay here.
Exit EMILY — voices downstairs.
ADA: They are all three here — I must go also.
Exit ADA.
ANNIE CALLADINE straightens her hair before the mirror, rubs out her wrinkles, puts her flowers nicely, and seats herself with much composure. Enter GRAINGER and BRENTNALL, followed by ADA CALLADINE.
GRAINGER (stiffly): Miss Annie Calladine — Mr Brentnall.
BRENTNALL: What a nice smell of flowers.
ANNIE: It is the mezereon that Mr Magneer brought.
BRENTNALL: Did Mr Magneer bring flowers? I shouldn’t have thought the idea could occur to him.
ANNIE: He always brings flowers from the garden. It would never occur to him to buy them for us.
BRENTNALL: I see — how nice of him.
GRAINGER: All country fellows cart handfuls of flowers that they’ve got out of their own gardens, to their girls.
ANNIE: Nevertheless, Mr Magneer does it nicely.
Enter MAGNEER and EMILY.
JACK: Now we seem as if we’re going to be alright. What do you say, George?
GRAINGER: I say the same.
ANNIE: Do take a seat, all of you. Jack, you love the couch —
JACK: It’s a very nice couch, this is. (Sits down.)
BRENTNALL: I should think it would be the easiest thing in life to write a poem about a couch. I wonder if the woman was giving Cowper a gentle hint —
ADA (shrieking with laughter): Yes — yes — yes!
BRENTNALL: I never see a couch but my heart moves to poetry. The very buttons must be full of echoes —
JACK (bending his ear): Can’t hear ‘em, Billy.
BRENTNALL: Will none of you tune his ear?
ADA: Yes — yes!
EMILY (seating herself quietly beside JACK): What is it you are listening for, Jack?
JACK (awkwardly): I’ve no idea.
ANNIE: Where will you sit, Mr Brentnall? Do choose a comfortable chair.
BRENTNALL (seating himself beside her): Thanks very much.
JACK: Nay — nay — nay, Billy.
BRENTNALL (rising suddenly): Er — there’s a broken spring in that chair, Miss Calladine. (He crosses the hearth.)
ANNIE: I’m so sorry — have a cushion — do!
BRENTNALL: Will you allow me to sit here?
ADA: Let me give you some supper.
GRAINGER: Shall I administer the drinks?
GRAINGER gives the women burgundy, the men whisky and soda. ADA CALLADINE hands round food. GRAINGER seats himself reluctantly beside ANNIE CALLADINE — ADA CALLADINE takes a low chair next to BRENTNALL.
JACK: Now we are alright — at least I hope so.
BRENTNALL (to ADA): You are quite alright?
ADA (laughing): As far as I know.
BRENTNALL (to EMILY): I can see you are perfectly at home. (EMILY bows quietly, with a smile.) And you, Miss Calladine?
ANNIE: Thank you!
BRENTNALL: Gentlemen — the ladies!
GRAINGER (ironically): God bless ‘em.
JACK: Amen! (They drink.)
ADA: Ladies — the gentlemen!
ANNIE: God help them.
EMILY: Amen! (They drink.)
Complete Works of D.H. Lawrence (Illustrated) Page 696