Short Plays · Press Cuttings (2/2) (2/2) (5/5)

| Mitchener | Hold your tongue. He goes to the door and calls. Mrs. Farrell! He returns, and again addresses the Orderly. Civil rights don’t mean the right to be uncivil. Pleased with his own wit. Almost a pun. Ha ha! | | Mrs. Farrell | What’s the matther now? She comes to the table. | | Mitchener | To the Orderly. I have private business with Mrs. Farrell. Outside, you infernal blackguard. | | The Orderly | Arguing, as usual. Well, I didn’t ask to⁠—Mitchener* seizes him by the nape; rushes him out; slams the door; and comes solemnly to Mrs. Farrell. | | Mitchener | Excuse the abruptness of this communication, Mrs. Farrell; but I know only one woman in the country whose practical ability and force of character can maintain her husband in competition with the husband of Mrs. Banger. I have the honor to propose for your hand. | | Mrs. Farrell | D’ye mean you want to marry me? | | Mitchener | I do. | | Mrs. Farrell | No thank you. I’d have to work for you just the same; only I shouldn’t get any wages for it. | | Balsquith | That will be remedied when women get the vote. I’ve had to promise that. | | Mitchener | Winningly. Mrs. Farrell: you have been charwoman here now ever since I took up my duties. Have you really never, in your more romantic moments, cast a favorable eye on my person? | | Mrs. Farrell | I’ve been too busy casting an unfavorable eye on your cloze an’ on the litther you make with your papers. | | Mitchener | Wounded. Am I to understand that you refuse me? | | Mrs. Farrell | Just wait a bit. She takes Mitchener’s chair and rings up the telephone. Double three oh seven Elephant. | | Mitchener | I trust you’re not ringing for the police, Mrs. Farrell. I assure you I’m perfectly sane. | | Mrs. Farrell | Into the telephone. Is that you, Eliza? She listens for the answer. Not out of bed yet! Go and pull her out by the heels, the lazy sthreel; an’ tell her her mother wants to speak to her very particularly about General Mitchener. To Mitchener. Don’t you be afeard: I know you’re sane enough when you’re not talkin’ about the Germans. Into the telephone. Is that you, Eliza? She listens for the answer. D’ye remember me givin’ you a clout on the side of the head for tellin’ me that if I only knew how to play me cards I could marry any General on the staff instead o’ disgracin’ you be bein’ a charwoman? She listens for the answer. Well, I can have General Mitchener without playin’ any cards at all. What d’ye think I ought to say? She listens. Well, I’m no chicken meself. To Mitchener. How old are you? | | Mitchener | With an effort. Fifty-two. | | Mrs. Farrell | Into the telephone. He says he’s fifty-two. She listens; then, to Mitchener. She says you’re down in Who’s Who as sixty-one. | | Mitchener | Damn Who’s Who! | | Mrs. Farrell | Into the telephone. Anyhow I wouldn’t let that stand in the way. She listens. If I really what? She listens. I can’t hear you. If I really what? She listens. Who druv him? I never said a word to⁠—Eh? She listens. Oh, love him. Arra, don’t be a fool, child. To Mitchener. She wants to know do I really love you. Into the telephone. It’s likely indeed I’d frighten the man off with any such nonsense, at my age. What? She listens. Well, that’s just what I was thinkin’. | | Mitchener | May I ask what you were thinking, Mrs. Farrell? This suspense is awful. | | Mrs. Farrell | I was thinkin’ that p’raps the Duchess might like her daughther-in-law’s mother to be a General’s lady betther than to be a charwoman. Into the telephone. Wait’le you’re married yourself, me fine lady: you’ll find out that every woman’s a charwoman from the day she’s married. She listens. Then you think I might take him? She listens. G’lang, you young scald: if I had you here I’d teach you manners. She listens. That’s enough now. Back wid you to bed; and be thankful I’m not there to put me slipper across you. She rings off. The impudence! To Mitchener. “Bless you, me childher, may you be happy,” she says. To Balsquith, going to his side of the room. “Give dear old Mitch me love,” she says. | | | The Orderly opens the door, ushering in Lady Corinthia. | | The Orderly | Lady Corinthia Fanshawe to speak to you, sir. | | Lady Corinthia | General Mitchener: your designs on Mrs. Banger are defeated. She is engaged to General Sandstone. Do you still prefer her to me? | | Mrs. Farrell | He’s out o’ the hunt. He’s engaged to me. | | | The Orderly, overcome by this news, reels from the door to the standing desk and clutches the stool to save himself from collapsing. | | Mitchener | And extremely proud of it, Lady Corinthia. | | Lady Corinthia | Contemptuously. She suits you exactly. Coming to Balsquith. Mr. Balsquith: you, at least, are not a Philistine. | | Balsquith | No, Lady Corinthia; but I’m a confirmed bachelor. I don’t want a wife; but I want an Egeria. | | Mrs. Farrell | More shame for you! | | Lady Corinthia | Silence, woman. The position and functions of a wife may suit your gross nature. An Egeria is exactly what I desire to be. To Balsquith. Can you play accompaniments? | | Balsquith | Melodies only, I regret to say. With one finger. But my brother, who is a very obliging fellow, and not unlike me personally, is acquainted with three chords, with which he manages to accompany most of the comic songs of the day. | | Lady Corinthia | I do not sing comic songs. Neither will you when I am your Egeria. You must come to my musical at-home this afternoon. I will allow you to sit at my feet. | | Balsquith | Doing so. That is my ideal of romantic happiness. It commits me exactly as far as I desire to venture. Thank you. | | The Orderly | Wot price me, General? Won’t you celebrate your engagement by doin’ something for me? Mayn’t I be promoted to be a sergeant. | | Mitchener | You’re too utterly incompetent to discharge the duties of a sergeant. You are only fit to be a lieutenant. I shall recommend you for a commission. | | The Orderly | Hooray! The Parkinsons o’ Stepney’ll be proud to have me call on ’em now. I’ll go and tell the sergeant what I think of him. Hooray! He rushes out. | | Mrs. Farrell | Going to the door and calling after him. You might have the manners to shut the door afther you. She shuts it and comes between Mitchener and Lady Corinthia. | | Mitchener | Poor wretch! the day after civil rights are conceded to the army he and Chubbs-Jenkinson will be found incapable of maintaining discipline. They will be sacked and replaced by really capable men. Mrs. Farrell: as we are engaged, and I am anxious to do the correct thing in every way, I am quite willing to kiss you if you wish it. | | Mrs. Farrell | You’d only feel like a fool; and so would I. | | Mitchener | You are really the most sensible woman. I’ve made an extremely wise choice. He kisses her hand. | | Lady Corinthia | To Balsquith. You may kiss my hand, if you wish. | | Balsquith | Cautiously. I think we had better not commit ourselves too far. Let us change a subject which threatens to become embarrassing. To Mitchener*. The moral of the occasion for you, Mitchener, appears to be that you’ve got to give up treating soldiers as if they were schoolboys. | | Mitchener | The moral for you, Balsquith, is that you’ve got to give up treating women as if they were angels. Ha ha! | | Mrs. Farrell | It’s a mercy you’ve found one another out at last. That’s enough now. |