by Unknown
LORD LOAM (vaguely). Quite so — quite so. (CRICHTON announces dinner, and they file out. LADY MARY stays behind a moment and impulsively holds out her hand.)
LADY MARY. To wish you every dear happiness.
CRICHTON (an enigma to the last.) The same to you, my lady.
LADY MARY. Do you despise me, Crichton? (The man who could never tell a lie makes no answer.) You are the best man among us.
CRICHTON. On an island, my lady, perhaps; but in England, no.
LADY MARY. Then there’s something wrong with England.
CRICHTON. My lady, not even from you can I listen to a word against England.
LADY MARY. Tell me one thing: you have not lost your courage?
CRICHTON. No, my lady.
(She goes. He turns out the lights.)
LITTLE MARY
Produced at Wyndham’s theatre on September 24, 1903, with the following cast:
THE EARL OF CARLTON… John Hare
LORD ROLFE (his Son)… Gerald du Maurier
TERENCE REILLY.... Henry Vibart
SIR JENNINGS PYKE… Eric Lewis
DR. TOPPING... Clarence Blakiston
EARL OF PLUMLEIGH (a Schoolboy) A. E. Matthews
MR. DEIGHTON...Compton Coutts
COUNTESS OF PLUMLEIGH… Enid Spencer-Brunton
LADY MILLY.... Fyfe Alexander
ELEANOR GRAY.... Margaret Fraser
MOIRA LONEY....Nina Boucicault
The play ran for 208 performances.
CONTENTS
ACT I
ACT II
ACT III
ACT I
THE scene is the parlour of a chemist’s shop in London. It is in darkness. There is, however, a glass door at back leading into the shop, which is seen brightly lighted. At the back of the shop is the street door which leads into a dull, second-class street. A street organ is grinding out a popular tune. The street door opens, ringing a bell as it does so, and a quietly dressed lady enters. Nothing they say is heard, but she is seen asking for and buying something. He hands her package and she leaves the shop. After her exit the door-bell again rings and Lord Carlton enters. He hands Mr. Reilly a prescription about which they talk. A policeman is here seen passing the shop and the organ stops abruptly, the policeman having motioned with his hand that the organ is to move on. Then Mr. Reilly comes into the parlour carrying a lamp. He has taken off the shop counter. He puts lamp down on counter. Lord Carlton follows him in. There is still a light in the shop, but the room is also now seen. It is comfortable but plebeian, and has some unusual features. The corner of the room is fitted up as a sort of homemade laboratory, and there are chemist’s bottles, retorts, etc., standing on it. Elsewhere are advertisements, etc., as if the shop had overflowed into the parlour. There is an easy, high-backed chair by the fire, a round table, two horsehair chairs, and a chest of drawers. Standing on a round tray on the chest of drawers is a water-bottle and glass. On the door are three pegs, and on the centre peg is hanging an old dressing-gown of Mr. Reilly’s; hanging from a shelf by the counter is a towel. Fitted into this counter or homemade laboratory is an enamelled basin, which stands under a water-tap. There is a dentist’s chair with a low Chesterfield armchair containing small cushion. The round table is covered by a red tablecloth; on it is a workbasket, crackers (bonbons) which have been opened, chocolates, paper cap out of bonbon, large size; on top of chest of drawers is a hand mirror. By chair is a small wooden horse and two children’s picture-books are lying on the floor. Fixed in the wall is a formidable safe. Against back of parlour are what seem to be three boxes about 3 feet long, fastened to the wall. They are fixed one underneath the other, the top box being about 8 feet from the floor, and to this box is a ladder fastened to the side, leading from it to the floor. There is a similar box 8 feet from the floor on the other wall. The parlour being lit, Mr. Reilly and Lord Carlton are now more clearly seen. Mr. Reilly is dignified, patriarchal, about eighty years old, and there should be something fine and striking in his appearance, such as goes with our conception of an alchemist of mediaeval days. He speaks good English, but with a refined Irish accent. He wears a black skull-cap but otherwise is in ordinary careless attire. His face is intellectual and worn with study; he has a long greyish beard. His manner is dignified and courteous; he has the eyes of the idealist which lack lustre when he is speaking of ordinary affairs, from which his mind tends to wander, but they are capable of intense concentration and fire. He is absolutely sincere. Lord Carlton is a smart, well-groomed man of fashion; kind, cynic with some boyishness of spirit still left in him. He has a quizzical manner which enables him to be humorous without smiling.
LORD CARLTON. Really, I must not inconvenience you in this way, I can wait quite well in the shop.
MR. REILLY. It is no inconvenience, and the shop is chilly. There is a fire here.
LORD CARLTON. Well — you are uncommon good — and to a perfect stranger, too.
MR. REILLY. Not quite a stranger, my lord.
LORD CARLTON. You know me?
MR. REILLY. Your lordship’s name is on the prescription! That is why I invited you into the parlour.
LORD CARLTON (cynically). I see.
MR. REILLY (with simple dignity). Might I look at you, my lord, for a moment. I am an old man, and I have seen few of the sights. (He looks at LORD CARLTON and then speaks with dignity) Thank you, my lord!
(LORD CARLTON bows.)
If you will take a chair I shall have the prescription made up in ten minutes.
(LORD CARLTON sits in chair, MR. REILLY has the prescription in his hand.) I understand you wish this prescription to be made up?
LORD CARLTON. Yes. They are powders I frequently take for nervous headache.
MR. REILLY (the words evidently having some meaning of his own to him). Nervous headache. He said nervous headache — why not?
LORD CARLTON. You don’t believe in them?
MR. REILLY (coming to himself quickly). I am a chemist and druggist, my lord — not a doctor. (Looking at prescription.) He often takes them.
LORD CARLTON (stoutly in their defence). Often, and they do me good.
MR. REILLY (slowly). He wishes me to make up these powders — because he thinks he is subject to nervous headaches — and he believes they do him good. Certainly, my lord.
(Exit into the shop, oblivious of the fact that LORD CARLTON is wondering at him. LORD CARLTON rises.)
LORD CARLTON. Queer old fish!
(LORD CARLTON left to himself evidently thinks MR.
REILLY a queer old fish, looks about and evidently thinks it an odd room, puts his hat down on the chest, picks up hand mirror which is lying on it.)
(Testily to his reflection) Ugly beast!
(Puts mirror down again.)
Ah, old friend! (Crosses to fire and is stirring it, rattles fireirons.)
CHILD (unseen). Is that you, mother?
(LORD CARLTON looks round and is surprised to see no one — he turns and looks this way and that.)
LORD CARLTON (at a venture). Yes, my darling, it is I, your mother.
(There is no answer — the boxes strike him as curious, goes up the ladder, and looks into box. This evidently solves the mystery for him. He descends ladder amused and selfconscious, and goes on tiptoes to easy-chair by fire. A little boy in a nightgown peeps up from box, which is now seen to he a novel kind of cot, and is evidently looking for him excitedly.)
BOY (to another box). Rosy!
GIRL (a little girl looks up). Yes!
(LORD CARLTON peeps at them behind chair, BOY signs caution to GIRL, LORD CARLTON pulls up his legs on to the chair and cowers not to be seen by them. Enter MOIRA, singing and carrying a baby. She is an old-fashioned little girl of twelve, very earnest and practical and quaint, and with all the airs of an experienced mother. She carries the baby with extraordinary rapture and her face shines with the glory of holding such a treasure.
LORD CARLTON is not seen by her owing to his position in the chair, and h
e listens entertained, without disclosing himself — the child speaks excitedly.)
CHILD. Mother!
MOIRA (who, like MR. REILLY, speaks English, but with pretty aroma of Irish in it, sternly). Billy, you naughty boy — lie down!
CHILD. But, mother —
MOIRA (sternly). You are asleep, Billy, and don’t you forget it.
(He lies down — she addresses the GIRL in the other box.)
(To GIRL) Lie down, you wicked toodlums. (Then addressing the baby in her arms, whom she hugs adoringly) No wonder you scorn them, Baby — I never had such a family — really I don’t know what we poor mothers are coming to — we shall have to give up having babies. (Kissing it each time) We shall — we shall — we shall. (She goes to the chest of drawers, gets out bedclothes — speaking the while) Baby, do you know why I love you the best of them all? It’s because you ‘re my littlest.
(Bending over the child) Littlest — littlest. (Hurries with bedclothes to cot and arranges them, making cooing noises at baby all the time — coming to baby in jumps, speaks severely.)
To bed, to bed, you sleepy head,
Oh, tarry a while, says slow,
Put on the pan, said greedy Nan,
We’ll sup before we go.
(Lifts baby) Golden curls, the day I have to cut them off, that day, Baby, I shall die.
(Puts baby in cot and hangs over it worshipping it. While putting baby in, MOIRA sings, LORD CARLTON feels that he ought to disclose himself, he stands up by chair, and clears his throat, MOIRA is startled, sees him, and rushing back to cot, stands defending it with outstretched arms like a wild animal protecting her cubs.)
LORD CARLTON. Don’t be alarmed, madam, I have no desire to deprive you of your Benjamin.
MOIRA (cautious). Who are you?
LORD CARLTON. The nice old gentleman asked me to wait here while my prescription was being made up.
MOIRA (appeased and timid). Oh, very well. I thought that — (She comes nearer and can’t help looking at him with wistful admiration.) Oh! How well your coat sets you!
(He bows, and suddenly a new thought clouds her.)
LORD CARLTON (with feeling). My dear little girl, if my presence here disturbs you —
MOIRA. It’s not that — but what will you think of me!
(Pleading, excusing herself) You see, it is my birthday and so I let them play a little longer than usual — meaning to tidy up when they were in bed. (Eager) I swear that’s why the room is in such disorder. (Bitterly) But now, of course, you’ll go and tell all your friends that I am a bad housewife.
LORD CARLTON. On the contrary, everything seems to me to be in apple-pie order.
MOIRA (refusing to he comforted). You say that to please me. I dare say you have been counting the crumbs on the carpet.
LORD CARLTON. No. I have been too busy occupied in counting these. (Indicating boxes.)
MOIRA (unable to resist this — with shy pleasure). There are four. (She makes a little chuckle of delight over having four.)
LORD CARLTON. Four — and your age?
MOIRA. I am twelve to-day.
LORD CARLTON (grandly). Would you mind shaking hands with me?
MOIRA (gives him her hand). Thank YOU, SIR.
(She beckons him to come over to her. LORD CARLTON crosses to her, she lowers her voice so as not to be heard by the boxes.)
MOIRA. They are not really mine.
LORD CARLTON (affecting surprise). No?
MOIRA (wistfully). Did you think they were?
LORD CARLTON. They called you by that sweetest of names, you know.
MOIRA (sighing). Yes.
LORD CARLTON. Do you wish they were yours?
MOIRA (hysterical with ecstasy). Ah! Ah! (Signing caution.)
They think I’m their mother.
(BILLY looks out; she speaks with a pointed look at LORD CARLTON.)
Good night, my boy.
CHILD. Good night, mother.
(He lies down — she nods triumphantly at LORD CARLTON, who signs that he will keep her secret. She flies about putting room to rights, picking up small wooden horse and picture-books which she places on the top of chest of drawers.)
LORD CARLTON. I say, little Irish girl —
MOIRA (turns to him, anxiously). I didn’t tell you I was Irish.
LORD CARLTON. Why shouldn’t you?
MOIRA (primly). Because it is sinful to boast. (Kneels in front of fire.)
LORD CARLTON (emphatically — like a schoolboy). I like you!
MOIRA. Do you? But you should see me in my muslin with the pink spots.
LORD CARLTON. I should like to — but you are not very polite, you know. You should be entertaining me.
MOIRA (anxious). I doubt my manners are bad.
LORD CARLTON. It is so easy for a lady to entertain a gentleman.
MOIRA (eager). It is?
LORD CARLTON. She simply sits beside him and smiles pleasantly.
(MOIRA sits at opposite side of table and tries to smile pleasantly.)
MOIRA (with itching hands). Doesn’t she do anything with her hands?
LORD CARLTON (considerately). Well, if she has a family she is permitted to sew.
MOIRA. Oh, thank you, sir. (Seizing sewing and sews.)
LORD CARLTON (leaning across table like a boy). I say, you tell me all about you, and I’ll tell you all about me.
MOIRA (gleefully — entering into the joke). Yes!
LORD CARLTON. What is your name?
MOIRA. Moira.
LORD CARLTON. I like it. (Confidentially) And the old gentleman — I gather he’s not your husband?
MOIRA (gravely). No, I’m not old enough to have a husband — he’s my Grandpa.
LORD CARLTON. And your parents are dead, Moira?
MOIRA. Yes, sir, but how did you know?
LORD CARLTON. From the way you look after your little brothers and sisters.
MOIRA. H’sh! (Guardedly) They are no relation. I just take them in to mother them. They are widowers’ children from near by.
LORD CARLTON. Good heavens! Sort of creche!
MOIRA. What? (Quickly on the defence.) Grandpa does not make me do it, though the money’s useful. You see, I have a lot of time on my hands for we have just the one floor.
LORD CARLTON. Surely there is a servant?
MOIRA (excitedly). Servant! No servants for me. I know them — idle hussies.
CHILD (popping up). Mother, could I have just one more chocolate?
MOIRA (severely — rising). Certainly not.
LORD CARLTON (rises). Oh, yes, let him have one. Here, Billy, catch! Catch!
(Goes and flings up chocolate, which BILLY immediately puts in his mouth.)
MOIRA. You will be sick tomorrow, Billy.
CHILD (with conviction). I shall be sick tonight.
(MOIRA sits by the table, BOY lies down, LORD CARLTON returning, sees that MOIRA is offended with him.)
LORD CARLTON (appealing). Moira! (She turns away.) It was only one!
(She is still cold. He tries another way of getting round her.)
Moira, I am a widower. (Sits.)
MOIRA (turning to him). Oh dear, dear, dear. (Sudden thought) Have you any...? (Looks at boxes.)
LORD CARLTON. Boxes. One. Boy.
MOIRA (ecstatic). Ah! Aha! (Old-fashioned) They ‘re such a trouble — really they ‘re such a nuisance! Has the precious had his measles?
LORD CARLTON. Yes.
MOIRA. English?
LORD CARLTON (patriotically). I hope so.
MOIRA. Of course, it’s an anxious time, but better get them over while they ‘re young — that’s what I say.
LORD CARLTON. My very words! (Rises.)
MOIRA (suddenly). You weren’t thinking of asking me to take him? No, you ‘re too grand.
LORD CARLTON. You are full up, you know.
MOIRA. However many there are, I have always room for one more.
LORD CARLTON. Ah, but he is quite a big boy now. Why, he is four y
ears older than you.
MOIRA. That’s the worst of them — they grow up so quick. Is he doing for himself?
LORD CARLTON (leaning over back of chair). He will never do for himself. (With some feeling) You have a house and grandfather to look after, my child, and four boxes to fill up the time, while he is still at school playing marbles, or the like, and presently he will go to Oxford to play more marbles, or I may send him into the Army to play marbles there.