by Unknown
DOWAGER. I happened to be passing at the time.
SIR GEORGE. I feel a little nervous about intruding.
DOWAGER. What is there to be afraid of?
LADY GILDING. YOU insisted on our hurrying over dinner so that we might expose the creature before it was too late.
DOWAGER. Don’t forget that if the Professor — succeeds in winning me — you get five hundred pounds a year.
(Music recommences.)
SIR george. Please don’t talk so sordidly.
(They are about to enter gate, when YELLOWLEES comes out of it.)
LADY GILDING. Ah, Doctor, have you been paying a professional visit?
YELLOWLEES. I intended to, but the Professor is out.
SIR GEORGE. Miss Goodwillie?
YELLOWLEES. Out also.
(A bang is heard on piano.)
DOWAGER. Then who is that sitting on the piano?
YELLOWLEES. Dr. Cosens.
(Piano ceases.)
SIR GEORGE. Then we need not go in?
DOWAGER. Let us stroll along the lane — we may meet them.
SIR GEORGE. Very well.
LADY GILDING. I’ll follow you — I have something to say to Dr. Yellowlees.
(SIR GEORGE and DOWAGER go.)
Now, Doctor.
YELLOWLEES (thinking he is going to be scolded). If it is about my saying that Sir George was suffering from chershylafam —
LADY GILDING. It is.
YELLOWLEES. I wish to ask your pardon. The fact is, I don’t know what chershylafam is. It’s not in the medical dictionary.
LADY GILDING (archly). It ought to be — and you know what it is very well, Doctor. Indeed, it was most good of you to put the little matter to me in such a delicate way. I thank you.
YELLOWLEES (more puzzled than ever). I — really —
LADY GILDING. YOU will be pleased to know that it is not so serious as you probably feared. Of course, I inquired into the matter at once.
YELLOWLEES. Ah — ah — quite so!
LADY GILDING. But without telling Sir George. You see, had he known I was interfering, he might — don’t you think —
YELLOWLEES. He might — he might!
LADY GILDING. Of course, I have dismissed her.
YELLOWLEES. Of course! Oh, certainly.
LADY GILDING. I thought it right to let you know this, as you are so fully acquainted with the circumstances.
YELLOWLEES. So fully acquainted — ha, just so!
LADY GILDING. Not a word of it to Sir George.
YELLOWLEES. Not a word.
(LADY GILDING goes, YELLOWLEES stares in perplexity, then hears someone coming out of house and exits swaggering. The newcomer is DR. COSENS, without his hat, who comes and leans over gate, smoking a pipe. An unseen bird in tree whistles and he whistles back to it. They keep this up until PROFESSOR enters excitedly.)
PROFESSOR. Dick!
COSENS. At last, Tom. I haven’t seen you since I met you in the field. I was beginning to think that the mysterious woman had run away with you, and married you against your will.
PROFESSOR. None of that, Dick. I won’t listen to a word against marriage. Most unmanly — very.
COSENS. Hullo!
PROFESSOR. I hold that it is the duty of every man to marry.
COSENS. Hullo! And how long have you been of that opinion?
PROFESSOR. Always.
COSENS. Tom!
PROFESSOR (joining him). Dick, I’m in love!
COSENS. At last! And do you know who the lady is?
PROFESSOR. Do I know? What a question to ask! Who could it be but Lucy White? Dick, how blind you are.
COSENS (lolling on seat). Stand still and talk rationally.
PROFESSOR. I can’t stand still. I have walked fifteen miles since I made the great discovery. I feel as if I should never be able to stand still again.
COSENS. Oh yes, you will.
PROFESSOR. Ah, Dick, I think you are laughing at me! Am I only an old fool? I think you are, Dick, she couldn’t possibly. Between ourselves, I am a little shortsighted and rather hard of hearing, and I sometimes give in one knee. I shouldn’t wonder, though, I had to get spectacles and an eartrumpet and a crutch all at the same time.
COSENS. The greater need of a wife. No, I am not laughing at you, Tom. Have you asked her to marry you?
PROFESSOR. I had begun to — in the field — it was all coming out in a rush, when she ran away. Dick, no one could love me, eh?
COSENS (chaffing). Oh, I don’t know. For one thing, you are fairly wealthy.
PROFESSOR. Ah, girls don’t marry for money, Dick.
COSENS. Simple old boy.
PROFESSOR. Yes, that is it — I am an old boy, already.
COSENS. YOU look twenty years younger than you did a week ago.
PROFESSOR. I feel it, Dick. I feel it, but it is impossible she can care for me.
COSENS. Does your sister know about it, Tom?
PROFESSOR. Yes; as soon as I told her she went off to look for Lucy.
COSENS. Ha! I can guess why she did that.
PROFESSOR. So can I, Dick. She has gone to plead for me. So like Agnes! (Sitting in seat under window.)
(COSENS smiles.)
But I am afraid it will be of no use. Old fossil — the dustbin. That’s the place.
COSENS. Tom, my opinion is, that the girl is in love with you.
PROFESSOR. Dick! Don’t buoy me up with false hopes, Dick. (Jumping up from seat.)
COSENS. And my advice to you is —
PROFESSOR. Yes?
COSENS. First, put on a decent hat —
PROFESSOR. Yes; I have one. I certainly used to have one.
COSENS. And your most elegant coat.
PROFESSOR. Yes? The one I was fitted for. That’s the one.
COSENS. Assume a martial air, twirl a cane in one hand and march straight to her lodgings and propose to her.
PROFESSOR. I will.
COSENS. Cut a dash, Tom.
PROFESSOR. Precisely. That’s the thing. (Coming back.)
How do you cut it, Dick?
COSENS. In with you.
(The PROFESSOR goes into house leaving COSENS chuckling and relighting his pipe.)
PROFESSOR (opening window). Dick, you must have noticed that she is utterly unlike any other woman you ever saw?
COSENS (who has risen and gone to window). Oh, of course.
PROFESSOR. Her laugh, Dick!
COSENS. Ah!
PROFESSOR. Once I saw her cry!
COSENS. Never!
PROFESSOR. It was in London.
COSENS. You don’t say so!
PROFESSOR. She was twenty last birthday.
COSENS. Wonderful!
(professor disappears for a second and then returns.)
PROFESSOR. Dick, I am even uglier than I thought.
COSENS. Oh, go and tidy yourself up. Stop, I’ll come in and help you.
(cosens enters house professor disappears from window, effie is heard off stage singing a snatch of ‘When the Kye comes Hame.’ She comes in from field with water, pete following her.)
PETE. Oh, Effie!
EFFIE. Tell me blunt, man, what is it you want if you ken yoursel’?
PETE. Fine I ken what I want. I want you to give me up, Effie.
EFFIE. What for should I give you up?
PETE. I’ve changed my mind, Effie.
EFFIE. Is there some other woman?
PETE. There’s no other woman. Far frae it! It’s just that on consideration I think the thing’s too venturesome.
EFFIE. You’ve been ill to come by, Pete, and I refuse to give you up. The whole countryside is already ringing with the news of my victory.
PETE. It’s true, it’s true, I’m a marked man. (Appealing) What is it you see in me, Effie, that’s so terrible adorable?
EFFIE. I see nothing partikler. You ‘re not my choice, but I’m yours — and we’ll get on fine.
PETE. You’re ower young to marry.
EFFIE. Have
rs! Many a woman is a widow at my age.
PETE. My blood was up. I spoke in haste.
EFFIE. Then you can repent at your leisure.
PETE. Effie, I’m a terrible bad character.
EFFIE. I’ll reform you.
PETE. I drink!
EFFIE. Ay!
PETE. I swear!
EFFIE. Ay!
PETE. In fact, I’m just a regular devil.
EFFIE. Deevil or no deevil, Pete, you ‘re the man for me.
PETE (to her back). Effie woman! Effie!
(He goes very despondently. Enter professor in tall hat, frock-coat, flower in it, and cane in hand, cosens looks out at window at him.)
COSENS. Good luck to you, Tom.
PROFESSOR (referring to cane). Dick, how do you twirl it?
(Tries.)
COSENS. Capital!
PROFESSOR. How do you think I look, Dick? (Referring to hat) You know I never wear this except at funerals. I don’t think she’ll know it’s me, Dick?
COSENS (chaffing). Perhaps that will increase your chances!
PROFESSOR (almost going — returning). You know, I don’t feel so old.
COSENS. You ‘re not.
PROFESSOR. Dick, I remember I was rather good at games. I had an off-break.
COSENS. Tell her that.
PROFESSOR. I once bled a boy’s nose at school.
COSENS. Good.
PROFESSOR. What extraordinary things are coming back to me! I used to draw caricatures of my schoolmasters!
COSENS. YOU did!
PROFESSOR. It is my solemn opinion, Dick — that I had quite a sense of fun!
COSENS. You’ll simply bowl her over, Tom.
PROFESSOR. You know I never believed I had a chance with her, and now I feel almost hopeful.
COSENS. That’s the way to win them. Be off, before it goes.
PROFESSOR (going and returning). Dick, I’ve lost hope. What can she see in me?
COSENS. My dear Tom, when women love us we should never ask why. All we can be sure of is that they see something in us which isn’t there.
(The professor goes, cosens leans out of window as if watching him cosens evidently indicates to him to wear hat more jauntily. Signs to waggle cane. Shows approval and claps hands. While he is doing so, miss goodwillie enters, and observes his antics.)
MISS GOODWILLIE. Whatever are you doing, Doctor?
COSENS. Observe the hat — and the cane.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Where has he gone?
COSENS. Prepare to receive cavalry, my friend; Tom is off to the cottage where Miss White is living to propose to her.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Ah! I think I can stop that. The Gildings have just told me something that will show Tom what she is, when I tell it to him.
COSENS. Whatever it is, I don’t believe it.
MISS GOODWILLIE. I do.
COSENS. You are so cynical, Miss Goodwillie, you believe in no one.
MISS GOODWILLIE. I believe in everything — except women — and men.
COSENS. Where are you going now?
MISS GOODWILLIE. TO tax her with it before Tom.
(COSENS flings up his arms and disappears from window.
MISS GOODWILLIE is going, but evidently sees someone else coming and turns and sits on seat. Enter LUCY.) I have been looking for you for some hours, Miss White.
LUCY. I was out when you called. So I have come to see you.
MISS GOODWILLIE. TO triumph over me i lucy. No, to let you triumph over me.
MISS GOODWILLIE. What? Don’t you know that your scheme has succeeded. He wants to marry you.
LUCY. It is your scheme that has succeeded — your scheme to make me unworthy of him. Yes, I am an adventuress now. But don’t forget that it is you who have made me one.
MISS GOODWILLIE. How?
LUCY. I have known for quite a long time that a word from me would open his eyes to what you were so anxious he should never see, but I would not speak it. It is true that he knows he loves me now, but only as the result of a shameless trick I played on him.
MISS GOODWILLIE. I have heard all about that, but I admit I don’t quite see why you should tell me. (Suspicious) I suppose it is because you guessed I knew already.
LUCY. Go on thinking the worst of me. It doesn’t matter now. I have degraded myself, and I am going away.
MISS GOODWILLIE (on her guard). Is this true?
LUCY. My box is packed and I leave for London tonight.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Without seeing my brother?
LUCY. I should prefer that.
MISS GOODWILLIE. With no explanations? He would follow you by the next train.
LUCY. You can tell him what I did. That will cure him.
MISS GOODWILLIE (who secretly does not believe that it would cure him). How do I know that he will not follow you still?
LUCY (eagerly). You think he might forgive me?
MISS GOODWILLIE (dissembling). Never!
LUCY. No, no! He has such a scorn of guile. He has said to me that guile is the one thing in a woman that he would never overlook.
MISS GOODWILLIE. And it is true. He is coming.
LUCY. Let me go.
MISS GOODWILLIE (cunningly). Stop! There is a better way. He need not despise you.
LUCY (eagerly). Oh!
MISS GOODWILLIE. I need tell him nothing. It will be sufficient if you simply say to him that you don’t love him.
LUCY. Don’t love him! How could he look at me and believe the words?
MISS GOODWILLIE. It would be best for him, Miss White.
LUCY. Very well.
(Enter professor.)
PROFESSOR. Agnes, you have not seen Miss Lucy?
MISS GOODWILLIE. Yes. (Indicating her.)
PROFESSOR. Miss Lucy? I see Agnes has been speaking to you about me. There is no hope for me, Agnes?
MISS GOODWILLIE. It is for her to say, Tom. Is there any hope for him, Miss White?
LUCY. No!
PROFESSOR. You could not — perhaps — in time —
MISS GOODWILLIE. Could you, Miss White?
LUCY. No!
(agnes goes to tom to console him.)
PROFESSOR. Not now, dear. (To lucy) I — I — how could I have been so presumptuous? Forgive me, Miss Lucy.
(professor goes into house.)
MISS GOODWILLIE. You have done well. (Rather hard still)
And now there is nothing further to keep you here.
LUCY (looking round sadly). No, it’s all over — (Pathetically) I did not tell him I was going away.
MISS GOODWILLIE. It is not necessary now. I will tell him and he will understand. Goodbye.
(lucy hesitates.)
LUCY. I have hurt him so. Why shouldn’t I tell him what I did and let him decide. Perhaps he — (She makes a movement after him and hesitates.)
MISS GOODWILLIE (coldly, though knowing this may ruin her plans). Very well, go in and tell him — but I should have thought it was best to leave him thinking well of you.
LUCY. I will go. You are very hard.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Yes, I am hard. Goodbye, Miss White. I wish you well.
(miss goodwillie goes into house, lucy meets henders, who enters with a letter, a lantern, and a wheelbarrow.)
LUCY. Henders, I am going to London by tonight’s mail. Will you take my box to the station?
HENDERS. I will — I’ll take it on my barrow. Are you leaving for good, Miss?
LUCY. Yes — for good.
HENDERS. Miss Lucy, bide a wee — here’s a queer sort of a letter. I wonder if you could make head or tail of it?