Man and Superman and Three Other Plays (14 page)

VIVIE
Well, never mind. Come; good-night, dear old mother. [
She takes her mother in her arms
.]

MRS. WARREN
[
fondly
] I brought you up well, didn't I, dearie?

VIVIE
You did.

MRS. WARREN
And you'll be good to your poor old mother for it, won't you?

VIVIE
I will, dear. [
Kissing her
.] Good-night.

MRS. WARREN
[
with unction
] Blessings on my own dearie darling—a mother's blessing! [
She embraces her daughter protectingly, instinctively looking upward as if to call down a blessing.
]

ACT III

FRANK
[
looking at his watch] Half-past eleven. Nice hour for a rector to come down to breakfast!

REV. S.
Don't mock, Frank: don't mock. I'm a little—er—[
Shivering
.]—

FRANK
Off colour?

REV. S.
[
repudiating the expression
] No, sir: unwell this morning. Where's your mother?

FRANK
Don't be alarmed: she's not here. Gone to town by the 11:13 with Bessie. She left several messages for you. Do you feel equal to receiving them now, or shall I wait till you've breakfasted?

REV. S.
I have breakfasted, sir. I am surprised at your mother going to town when we have people staying with us. They'll think it very strange.

FRANK
Possibly she has considered that. At all events, if Crofts is going to stay here, and you are going to sit up every night with him until four, recalling the incidents of your fiery youth, it is clearly my mother's duty, as a prudent housekeeper, to go up to the stores and order a barrel of whisky and a few hundred siphons.

REV. S.
I did not observe that Sir George drank excessively.

FRANK
You were not in a condition to, gov‘nor.

REV. S.
Do you mean to say that
I
—

FRANK
[
calmly
] I never saw a beneficed clergyman less sober. The anecdotes you told about your past career were so awful that I really don't think Praed would have passed the night under your roof if it hadn't been for the way my mother and he took to one another.

REV. S.
Nonsense, sir. I am Sir George Crofts' host. I must talk to him about something; and he has only one subject. Where is Mr. Praed now?

FRANK
He is driving my mother and Bessie to the station.

REV. S.
Is Crofts up yet?

FRANK
Oh, long ago. He hasn't turned a hair: he's in much better practice than you—has kept it up ever since, probably. He's taken himself off somewhere to smoke. [
Frank resumes his paper. The REV. S. turns disconsolately towards the gate; then comes back irresolutely.
]

REV. S.
Er—Frank.

FRANK
Yes.

REV. S.
Do you think the Warrens will expect to be asked here after yesterday afternoon?

FRANK
They've been asked already. Crofts informed us at breakfast that you told him to bring Mrs. Warren and Vivie over here to-day, and to invite them to make this house their home. It was after that communication that my mother found she must go to town by the 11:13 train.

REV. S.
[
with despairing vehemence
] I never gave any such invitation. I never thought of such a thing.

FRANK
[
compassionately
] How do you know, gov‘nor, what you said and thought last night? Hallo! here's Praed back again.

PRAED
[
coming in through the gate
] Good morning.

REV. S.
Good morning. I must apologize for not having met you at breakfast. I have a touch of—of—

FRANK
Clergyman's sore throat, Praed. Fortunately not chronic.

PRAED
[
changing the subject
] Well, I must say your house is in a charming spot here. Really most charming.

REV. S.
Yes: it is indeed. Frank will take you for a walk, Mr. Praed, if you like. I'll ask you to excuse me: I must take the opportunity to write my sermon while Mrs. Gardner is away and you are all amusing yourselves. You won't mind, will you?

PRAED
Certainly not. Don't stand on the slightest ceremony with me.

REV. S.
Thank you. I‘ll—er—er—[
He stammers his way to the porch and vanishes into the house
.]

PRAED
[
sitting down on the turf near FRANK, and hugging his ankles
] Curious thing it must be writing a sermon every week.

FRANK
Ever so curious, if he did it. He buys ‘em. He's gone for some soda water.

PRAED
My dear boy: I wish you would be more respectful to your father. You know you can be so nice when you like.

FRANK
My dear Praddy: you forget that I have to live with the governor. When two people live together—it don't matter whether they're father and son, husband and wife, brother and sister—they can't keep up the polite humbug which comes so easy for ten minutes on an afternoon call. Now the governor, who unites to many admirable domestic qualities the irresolute-ness of a sheep and the pompousness and aggressiveness of a jackass—

PRAED
No, pray, pray, my dear Frank, remember! He is your father.

FRANK
I give him due credit for that. But just imagine his telling Crofts to bring the Warrens over here! He must have been ever so drunk. You know, my dear Praddy, my mother wouldn't stand Mrs. Warren for a moment. Vivie mustn't come here until she's gone back to town.

PRAED
But your mother doesn't know anything about Mrs. Warren, does she?

FRANK
I don't know. Her journey to town looks as if she did. Not that my mother would mind in the ordinary way: she has stuck like a brick to lots of women who had got into trouble. But they were all nice women. That's what makes the real difference. Mrs. Warren, no doubt, has her merits; but she's ever so rowdy; and my mother simply wouldn't put up with her. So—hallo! [
This exclamation is provoked by the reappearance of the clergyman, who comes out of the house in haste and dismay
.]

REV. S.
Frank: Mrs. Warren and her daughter are coming across the heath with Crofts: I saw them from the study windows. What a m I to say about your mother?

FRANK
[
jumping up energetically
] Stick on your hat and go out and say how delighted you are to see them; and that Frank's in the garden; and that mother and Bessie have been called to the bedside of a sick relative, and were ever so sorry they couldn't stop; and that you hope Mrs. Warren slept well; and—and—say any blessed thing except the truth, and leave the rest to Providence.

REV.
S.
But how are we to get rid of them afterwards?

FRANK
There's no time to think of that now. Here! [
He bounds into the porch and returns immediately with a clerical felt hat, which he claps on his father's head.
] Now: off with you. Praed and I'll wait here, to give the thing an unpremeditated air. [
The clergyman, dazed, but obedient, hurries off through the gate. PRAED gets up from the turf, and dusts himself.
]

FRANK We must get that old lady back to town somehow, Praed. Come! honestly, dear Praddy, do you like seeing them together—Vivie and the old lady?

PRAED Oh, why not?

FRANK [
his teeth on edge
] Don't it make your flesh creep ever so little?—that wicked old devil, up to every villainy under the sun, I'll swear, and Vivie—ugh!

PRAED Hush, pray. They're coming. [
The clergyman and CROFTS are seen coming along the road, followed by MRS. WARREN and VIVIE walking affectionately together.
]

FRANK Look: she actually has her arm round the old woman's waist. It's her right arm: she began it. She's gone sentimental, by God! Ugh! ugh! Now do you feel the creeps?
[The clergyman opens the gate; and MRS. WARREN and VIVIE pass him and stand in the middle of the garden looking at the house. FRANK, in an ecstasy of dissimulation, turns gaily to MRS. WARREN, exclaiming
] Ever so delighted to see you, Mrs. Warren. This quiet old rectory garden becomes you perfectly.

MRS. WARREN Well, I never! Did you hear that, George? He says I look well in a quiet old rectory garden.

REV. S. [
still holding the gate for CROFTS, who loafs through it, heavily bored
] You look well everywhere, Mrs. Warren.

FRANK Bravo, gov‘nor! Now look here: let's have an awful jolly time of it before lunch. First let's see the church. Everyone has to do that. It's a regular old thirteenth century church, you know: the gov'nor's ever so fond of it, because he got up a restoration fund and had it completely rebuilt six years ago. Praed will be able to show its points.

REV. S. [
mooning hospitably at them
] I shall be pleased, I'm sure, if Sir George and Mrs. Warren really care about it.

MRS. WARREN Oh, come along and get it over. It'll do George good: I'll lay h e doesn't trouble church much.

CROFTS [
turning back towards the gate
] I've no objection.

REV. S. Not that way. We go through the fields, if you don't mind. Round here. [
He leads the way by the little path through the box hedge.
]

CROFTS Oh, all right. [
He goes with the parson. PRAED follows with MRS. WARREN. VIVIE does not stir, but watches them until they have gone, with all the lines of purpose in her face marking it strongly
.]

FRANK Ain't you coming?

VIVIE No. I want to give you a warning, Frank. You were making fun of my mother just now when you said that about the rectory garden. That is barred in future. Please treat my mother with as much respect as you treat your own.

FRANK My dear Viv: she wouldn't appreciate it. She's not like my mother: the same treatment wouldn't do for both cases. But what on earth has happened to you? Last night we were perfectly agreed as to your mother and her set. This morning I find you attitudinizing sentimentally with your arm round your parent's waist.

VIVIE [
flushing
] Attitudinizing!

FRANK That was how it struck me. First time I ever saw you do a second-rate thing.

VIVIE [
controlling herself
] Yes, Frank: there has been a change; but I don't think it a change for the worse. Yesterday I was a little prig.

FRANK And to-day?

VIVIE [
wincing
;
then looking at him steadily]
To-day I know my mother better than you do.

FRANK Heaven forbid!

VIVIE What do you mean?

FRANK Viv; there's a freemasonry among thoroughly immoral people that you know nothing of. You've too much character. That's the bond between your mother and me: that's why I know her better than you'll ever know her.

VIVIE You are wrong: you know nothing about her. If you knew the circumstances against which my mother had to struggle—

FRANK [
adroitly finishing the sentence for her
] I should know why she is what she is, shouldn't I? What difference would that make? Circumstances or no circumstances, Viv, you won't be able to stand your mother.

VIVIE [
very angry
] Why not?

FRANK Because she's an old wretch, Viv. If you ever put your arm round her waist in my presence again, I'll shoot myself there and then as a protest against an exhibition which revolts me.

VIVIE Must I choose between dropping your acquaintance and dropping my mother's?

FRANK [
gracefully
] That would put the old lady at ever such a disadvantage. No, Viv: your infatuated little boy will have to stick to you in any case. But he's all the more anxious that you shouldn't make mistakes. It's no use, Viv: your mother's impossible. She may be a good sort; but she's a bad lot, a very bad lot.
^p

VIVIE [
hotly
] Frank—! [
He stands his ground. She turns away and sits down on the bench under the yew tree, struggling to recover her self-command. Then she says
] Is she to be deserted by all the world because she's what you call a bad lot? Has she no right to live?

FRANK No fear of that, Viv: she won't ever be deserted. [
He sits on the bench beside her.
]

VIVIE But I am to desert her, I suppose.

FRANK [
babyishly
,
lulling her and making love to her with his voice
] Mustn't go live with her. Little family group of mother and daughter wouldn't be a success. Spoil our little group.

VIVIE [
falling under the spell
] What little group?