Plays Unpleasant (34 page)

CROFTS
[
aggressively
] I'm no older than you, if you come to that.

PRAED
. Yes you are, my dear fellow: you were born old. I was born a boy: Ive never been able to feel the assurance of a grown-up man in my life. [
He folds his chair and carries it to the porch
].

MRS WARREN
[
calling from within the cottage
] Prad-dee! George! Tea-ea-ea-ea!

CROFTS
[
hastily
] She's calling us. [
He hurries in
].

Praed shakes his head bodingly, and is following Crofts when he is hailed by a young gentleman who has just appeared on the common, and is making for the gate. He is pleasant, pretty, smartly dressed, cleverly good-for-nothing, not long turned 20, with a charming voice and agreeably disrespectful manners. He carries a light sporting magazine rifle
.

THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN
. Hallo! Praed!

PRAED
. Why, Frank Gardner! [
Frank comes in and shakes hands cordially
]. What on earth are you doing here?

FRANK
. Staying with my father.

PRAED
. The Roman father?

FRANK
. He's rector here. I'm living with my people this autumn for the sake of economy. Things came to a crisis in July: the Roman father had to pay my debts. He's stony broke in consequence; and so am I. What are you up to in these parts? Do you know the people here?

PRAED
. Yes: I'm spending the day with a Miss Warren.

FRANK
[
enthusiastically
] What! Do you know Vivie? Isnt she a jolly girl? I'm teaching her to shoot with this [
putting down the rifle
]. I'm so glad she knows you: youre just the sort of fellow she ought to know. [
He smiles, and raises the
charming voice almost to a singing tone as he exclaims
] It's ever so jolly to find you here, Praed.

PRAED
. I'm an old friend of her mother. Mrs Warren brought me over to make her daughter's acquaintance.

FRANK
. The mother! Is she here?

PRAED
. Yes: inside, at tea.

MRS WARREN
[
calling from within
] Prad-dee-ee-ee-eee! The tea-cake'll be cold.

PRAED
[
calling
] Yes, Mrs Warren. In a moment. Ive just met a friend here.

MRS WARREN
. A what?

PRAED
[
louder
] A friend.

MRS WARREN
. Bring him in.

PRAED
. All right. [
To Frank
] Will you accept the invitation?

FRANK
[
incredulous, but immensely amused
] Is that Vivie's mother?

PRAED
. Yes.

FRANK
. By Jove! What a lark! Do you think she'll like me?

PRAED
. Ive no doubt youll make yourself popular, as usual. Come in and try [
moving towards the house
].

FRANK
. Stop a bit. [
Seriously
] I want to take you into my confidence.

PRAED
. Pray dont. It's only some fresh folly, like the barmaid at Redhill.

FRANK
. It's ever so much more serious than that. You say youve only just met Vivie for the first time?

PRAED
. Yes.

FRANK
[
rhapsodically
] Then you can have no idea what a girl she is. Such character! Such sense! And her cleverness! Oh, my eye, Praed, but I can tell you she is clever! And – need I add? – she loves me.

CROFTS
[
putting his head out of the window
] I say, Praed: what are you about? Do come along. [
He disappears
].

FRANK
. Hallo! Sort of chap that would take a prize at a dog show, aint he? Who's he?

PRAED
. Sir George Crofts, an old friend of Mrs Warren's. I think we had better come in.

On their way to the porch they are interrupted by a call from the gate. Turning, they see an elderly clergyman looking over it
.

THE CLERGYMAN
[
calling
] Frank!

FRANK
. Hallo! [
To Praed
] The Roman father. [
To the clergyman
] Yes, gov'nor: all right: presently. [
To Praed
] Look here, Praed: youd better go in to tea. I'll join you directly.

PRAED
. Very good. [
He goes into the cottage
].

The clergyman remains outside the gate, with his hands on the top of it. The Rev. Samuel Gardner, a beneficed clergyman of the Established Church, is over 50. Externally he is pretentious, booming, noisy, important. Really he is that obsolescent social phenomenon the fool of the family dumped on the Church by his father the patron, clamorously asserting himself as father and clergyman without being able to command respect in either capacity
.

REV. S
. Well, sir. Who are your friends here, if I may ask?

FRANK
. Oh, it's all right, gov'nor! Come in.

REV. S
. No, sir; not until I know whose garden I am entering.

FRANK
. It's all right. It's Miss Warren's.

REV. S
. I have not seen her at church since she came.

FRANK
. Of course not: she's a third wrangler. Ever so intellectual. Took a higher degree than you did; so why should she go to hear you preach?

REV. S
. Dont be disrespectful, sir.

FRANK
. Oh, it dont matter: nobody hears us. Come in. [
He opens the gate, unceremoniously pulling his father with it into the garden
]. I want to introduce you to her. Do you remember the advice you gave me last July, gov'nor?

REV. S
. [
severely
] Yes. I advised you to conquer your idleness and flippancy, and to work your way into an honorable profession and live on it and not upon me.

FRANK
. No: thats what you thought of afterwards. What you actually said was that since I had neither brains nor
money, I'd better turn my good looks to account by marrying somebody with both. Well, look here, Miss Warren has brains: you cant deny that.

REV. S
. Brains are not everything.

FRANK
. No, of course not: theres the money –

REV. S
. [
interrupting him austerely
] I was not thinking of money sir. I was speaking of higher things. Social position, for instance.

FRANK
. I dont care a rap about that.

REV. S
. But I do, sir.

FRANK
. Well, nobody wants you to marry her. Anyhow she has what amounts to a high Cambridge degree; and she seems to have as much money as she wants.

REV. S
. [
sinking into a feeble vein of humor
] I greatly doubt whether she has as much money as you will want.

FRANK
. Oh, come: I havnt been so very extravagant. I live ever so quietly; I dont drink; I dont bet much; and I never go regularly on the razzle-dazzle as you did when you were my age.

REV. S
. [
booming hollowly
] Silence, sir.

FRANK
. Well, you told me yourself, when I was making ever such an ass of myself about the barmaid at Redhill, that you once offered a woman £50 for the letters you wrote to her when –

REV. S
. [
terrified
] Sh-sh-sh, Frank, for Heaven's sake! [
He looks round apprehensively. Seeing no one within earshot he plucks up courage to boom again, but more subduedly
]. You are taking an ungentlemanly advantage of what I confided to you for your own good, to save you from an error you would have repented all your life long. Take warning by your father's follies, sir; and dont make them an excuse for your own.

FRANK
. Did you ever hear the story of the Duke of Wellington and his letters?

REV. S
. No, sir; and I dont want to hear it.

FRANK
. The old Iron Duke didnt throw away £50: not he.
He just wrote: ‘Dear Jenny: publish and be damned! Yours affectionately, Wellington.' Thats what you should have done.

REV. S
. [
piteously
] Frank, my boy: when I wrote those letters I put myself into that woman's power. When I told you about them I put myself, to some extent, I am sorry to say, in your power. She refused my money with these words, which I shall never forget. ‘Knowledge is power,' she said; ‘and I never sell power'. Thats more than twenty years ago; and she has never made use of her power or caused me a moment's uneasiness. You are behaving worse to me than she did, Frank.

FRANK
. Oh yes I dare say! Did you ever preach at her the way you preach at me every day?

REV. S
. [
wounded almost to tears
] I leave you, sir. You are incorrigible. [
He turns towards the gate
].

FRANK
[
utterly unmoved
] Tell them I shant be home to tea, will you, gov'nor, like a good fellow? [
He moves towards the cottage door and is met by Praed and Vivie coming out
].

VIVIE
[
to Frank
] Is that your father, Frank? I do so want to meet him.

FRANK
. Certainly. [
Calling after his father
] Gov'nor. Youre wanted. [
The parson turns at the gate, fumbling nervously at his hat. Praed crosses the garden to the opposite side, beaming in anticipation of civilities
]. My father: Miss Warren.

VIVIE
[
going to the clergyman and shaking his hand
] Very glad to see you here, Mr Gardner. [
Calling to the cottage
] Mother: come along: youre wanted.

Mrs Warren appears on the threshold, and is immediately transfixed recognizing the clergyman
.

VIVIE
[
continuing
] Let me introduce –

MRS WARREN
[
swooping on the Reverend Samuel
] Why, it's Sam Gardner, gone into the Church! Well, I never! Dont you know us, Sam? This is George Crofts, as large as life and twice as natural. Dont you remember me?

REV. S
. [
very red
] I really – er –

MRS WARREN
. Of course you do. Why, I have a whole album of your letters still: I came across them only the other day.

REV. S
. [
miserably confused
] Miss Vavasour, I believe.

MRS WARREN
[
correcting him quickly in a loud whisper
] Tch! Nonsense! Mrs Warren: dont you see my daughter there?

Inside the cottage after nightfall. Looking eastward from within instead of westward from without, the latticed window, with its curtains drawn, is now seen in the middle of the front wall of the cottage, with the porch door to the left of it. In the left-hand side wall is the door leading to the kitchen. Farther back against the same wall is a dresser with a candle and matches on it, and Frank's rifle standing beside them, with the barrel resting in the plate-rack. In the centre a table stands with a lighted lamp on it. Vivie's books and writing materials are on a table to the right of the window, against the wall. The fireplace is on the right, with a settle: there is no fire. Two of the chairs are set right and left of the table
.

The cottage door opens, shewing a fine starlit night without; and Mrs Warren, her shoulders wrapped in a shawl borrowed from Vivie, enters, followed by Frank, who throws his cap on the window seat. She has had enough of walking, and gives a gasp of relief as she unpins her hat; takes it off; sticks the pin through the crown; and puts it on the table
.

MRS WARREN
. O Lord! I dont know which is the worst of the country, the walking or the sitting at home with nothing to do. I could do with a whisky and soda now very well, if only they had such a thing in this place.

FRANK
. Perhaps Vivie's got some.

MRS WARREN
. Nonsense! What would a young girl like her be doing with such things! Never mind: it dont matter. I wonder how she passes her time here! I'd a good deal rather be in Vienna.

FRANK
. Let me take you there. [
He helps her to take off her shawl, gallantly giving her shoulders a very perceptible squeeze as he does so
].

MRS WARREN
. Ah! would you? I'm beginning to think youre a chip of the old block.

FRANK
. Like the gov'nor, eh? [
He hangs the shawl on the nearest chair and sits down
].

MRS WARREN
. Never you mind. What do you know about such things? Youre only a boy. [
She goes to the hearth, to be farther from temptation
].

FRANK
. Do come to Vienna with me? It'd be ever such larks.

MRS WARREN
. No, thank you. Vienna is no place for you – at least not until youre a little older. [
She nods at him to emphasize this piece of advice. He makes a mock-piteous face, belied by his laughing eyes. She looks at him; then comes back to him
]. Now, look here, little boy [
taking his face in her hands and turning it up to her
]: I know you through and through by your likeness to your father, better than you know yourself. Dont you go taking any silly ideas into your head about me. Do you hear?

FRANK
[
gallantly wooing her with his voice
] Cant help it, my dear Mrs Warren: it runs in the family.