You Never Can Tell · Act I (2/2) (3/4)

| Gloria | Rising. But, mother⁠— | | Mrs. Clandon | Drawing back a little. Yes? | | Gloria | Obstinately. It is nonsense to tell us that our father is nothing to us. | | Mrs. Clandon | Provoked to sudden resolution. Do you remember your father? | | Gloria | Meditatively, as if the recollection were a tender one. I am not quite sure. I think so. | | Mrs. Clandon | Grimly. You are not sure? | | Gloria | No. | | Mrs. Clandon | With quiet force. Gloria: if I had ever struck you⁠—Gloria* recoils: Philip and Dolly are disagreeably shocked; all three start at her, revolted as she continues,⁠—struck you purposely, deliberately, with the intention of hurting you, with a whip bought for the purpose! Would you remember that, do you think? Gloria utters an exclamation of indignant repulsion. That would have been your last recollection of your father, Gloria, if I had not taken you away from him. I have kept him out of your life: keep him now out of mine by never mentioning him to me again. Gloria, with a shudder, covers her face with her hands, until, hearing someone at the door, she turns away and pretends to occupy herself looking at the names of the books in the bookcase. Mrs. Clandon sits down on the sofa. Valentine returns. | | Valentine | I hope I’ve not kept you waiting. That landlord of mine is really an extraordinary old character. | | Dolly | Eagerly. Oh, tell us. How long has he given you to pay? | | Mrs. Clandon | Distracted by her child’s bad manners. Dolly, Dolly, Dolly dear! You must not ask questions. | | Dolly | Demurely. So sorry. You’ll tell us, won’t you, Mr. Valentine? | | Valentine | He doesn’t want his rent at all. He’s broken his tooth on a Brazil nut; and he wants me to look at it and to lunch with him afterwards. | | Dolly | Then have him up and pull his tooth out at once; and we’ll bring him to lunch, too. Tell the maid to fetch him along. She runs to the bell and rings it vigorously. Then, with a sudden doubt she turns to Valentine and adds, I suppose he’s respectable⁠—really respectable. | | Valentine | Perfectly. Not like me. | | Dolly | Honest Injun? Mrs. Clandon gasps faintly; but her powers of remonstrance are exhausted. | | Valentine | Honest Injun! | | Dolly | Then off with you and bring him up. | | Valentine | Looking dubiously at Mrs. Clandon. I daresay he’d be delighted if⁠—er⁠—? | | Mrs. Clandon | Rising and looking at her watch. I shall be happy to see your friend at lunch, if you can persuade him to come; but I can’t wait to see him now: I have an appointment at the hotel at a quarter to one with an old friend whom I have not seen since I left England eighteen years ago. Will you excuse me? | | Valentine | Certainly, Mrs. Clandon. | | Gloria | Shall I come? | | Mrs. Clandon | No, dear. I want to be alone. She goes out, evidently still a good deal troubled. Valentine opens the door for her and follows her out. | | Philip | Significantly⁠—to Dolly. Hmhm! | | Dolly | Significantly to Philip. Ahah! The parlor maid answers the bell. | | Dolly | Show the old gentleman up. | | The Parlor Maid | Puzzled. Madam? | | Dolly | The old gentleman with the toothache. | | Philip | The landlord. | | The Parlor Maid | Mr. Crampton, Sir? | | Philip | Is his name Crampton? | | Dolly | To Philip. Sounds rheumaticky, doesn’t it? | | Philip | Chalkstones, probably. | | Dolly | Over her shoulder, to the parlor maid. Show Mr. Crampstones up. Goes R. to writing-table chair. | | The Parlor Maid | Correcting her. Mr. Crampton, miss. She goes. | | Dolly | Repeating it to herself like a lesson. Crampton, Crampton, Crampton, Crampton, Crampton. She sits down studiously at the writing-table. I must get that name right, or Heaven knows what I shall call him. | | Gloria | Phil: can you believe such a horrible thing as that about our father⁠—what mother said just now? | | Philip | Oh, there are lots of people of that kind. Old Chalice used to thrash his wife and daughters with a cartwhip. | | Dolly | Contemptuously. Yes, a Portuguese! | | Philip | When you come to men who are brutes, there is much in common between the Portuguese and the English variety, Doll. Trust my knowledge of human nature. He resumes his position on the hearthrug with an elderly and responsible air. | | Gloria | With angered remorse. I don’t think we shall ever play again at our old game of guessing what our father was to be like. Dolly: are you sorry for your father⁠—the father with lots of money? | | Dolly | Oh, come! What about your father⁠—the lonely old man with the tender aching heart? He’s pretty well burst up, I think. | | Philip | There can be no doubt that the governor is an exploded superstition. Valentine is heard talking to somebody outside the door. But hark: he comes. | | Gloria | Nervously. Who? | | Dolly | Chalkstones. | | Philip | Sh! Attention. They put on their best manners. Philip adds in a lower voice to Gloria, If he’s good enough for the lunch, I’ll nod to Dolly; and if she nods to you, invite him straight away. | | | Valentine comes back with his landlord. Mr. Fergus Crampton is a man of about sixty, tall, hard and stringy, with an atrociously obstinate, ill tempered, grasping mouth, and a querulously dogmatic voice. Withal he is highly nervous and sensitive, judging by his thin transparent skin marked with multitudinous lines, and his slender fingers. His consequent capacity for suffering acutely from all the dislike that his temper and obstinacy can bring upon him is proved by his wistful, wounded eyes, by a plaintive note in his voice, a painful want of confidence in his welcome, and a constant but indifferently successful effort to correct his natural incivility of manner and proneness to take offence. By his keen brows and forehead he is clearly a shrewd man; and there is no sign of straitened means or commercial diffidence about him: he is well dressed, and would be classed at a guess as a prosperous master manufacturer in a business inherited from an old family in the aristocracy of trade. His navy blue coat is not of the usual fashionable pattern. It is not exactly a pilot’s coat; but it is cut that way, double breasted, and with stout buttons and broad lapels, a coat for a shipyard rather than a counting house. He has taken a fancy to Valentine, who cares nothing for his crossness of grain and treats him with a sort of disrespectful humanity, for which he is secretly grateful. | | Valentine | May I introduce⁠—this is Mr. Crampton⁠—Miss Dorothy Clandon, Mr. Philip Clandon, Miss Clandon. Crampton stands nervously bowing. They all bow. Sit down, Mr. Crampton. | | Dolly | Pointing to the operating chair. That is the most comfortable chair, Mr. Ch⁠—crampton. | | Crampton | Thank you; but won’t this young lady⁠—?Indicating Gloria, who is close to the chair. | | Gloria | Thank you, Mr. Crampton: we are just going. | | Valentine | Bustling him across to the chair with good-humored peremptoriness. Sit down, sit down. You’re tired. | | Crampton | Well, perhaps as I am considerably the oldest person present, I⁠—He finishes the sentence by sitting down a little rheumatically in the operating chair. Meanwhile, Philip, having studied him critically during his passage across the room, nods to Dolly; and Dolly nods to Gloria. | | Gloria | Mr. Crampton: we understand that we are preventing Mr. Valentine from lunching with you by taking him away ourselves. My mother would be very glad, indeed, if you would come too. | | Crampton | Gratefully, after looking at her earnestly for a moment. Thank you. I will come with pleasure. | | | Politely murmuring. | | Gloria | Thank you very much⁠—er⁠— | | Dolly | So glad⁠—er⁠— | | Philip | Delighted, I’m sure⁠—er⁠— | | | The conversation drops. Gloria and Dolly look at one another; then at Valentine and Philip. Valentine and Philip, unequal to the occasion, look away from them at one another, and are instantly so disconcerted by catching one another’s eye, that they look back again and catch the eyes of Gloria and Dolly. Thus, catching one another all round, they all look at nothing and are quite at a loss. Crampton looks about him, waiting for them to begin. The silence becomes unbearable. | | Dolly | Suddenly, to keep things going. How old are you, Mr. Crampton? | | Gloria | Hastily. I am afraid we must be going, Mr. Valentine. It is understood, then, that we meet at half past one. She makes for the door. Philip goes with her. Valentine retreats to the bell. | | Valentine | Half past one. He rings the bell. Many thanks. He follows Gloria and Philip to the door, and goes out with them. | | Dolly | Who has meanwhile stolen across to Crampton. Make him give you gas. It’s five shillings extra: but it’s worth it. | | Crampton | Amused. Very well. Looking more earnestly at her. So you want to know my age, do you? I’m fifty-seven. | | Dolly | With conviction. You look it. | | Crampton | Grimly. I dare say I do. | | Dolly | What are you looking at me so hard for? Anything wrong? She feels whether her hat is right. | | Crampton | You’re like somebody. | | Dolly | Who? | | Crampton | Well, you have a curious look of my mother. | | Dolly | Incredulously. Your mother!!! Quite sure you don’t mean your daughter? | | Crampton | Suddenly blackening with hate. Yes: I’m quite sure I don’t mean my daughter. | | Dolly | Sympathetically. Tooth bad? | | Crampton | No, no: nothing. A twinge of memory, Miss Clandon, not of toothache. | | Dolly | Have it out. “Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow:” with gas, five shillings extra. | | Crampton | Vindictively. No, not a sorrow. An injury that was done me once: that’s all. I don’t forget injuries; and I don’t want to forget them. His features settle into an implacable frown. | | | Reenter Philip: to look for Dolly. He comes down behind her unobserved. | | Dolly | Looking critically at Crampton’s expression. I don’t think we shall like you when you are brooding over your sorrows. | | Philip | Who has entered the room unobserved, and stolen behind her. My sister means well, Mr. Crampton: but she is indiscreet. Now Dolly, outside! He takes her towards the door. | | Dolly | In a perfectly audible undertone. He says he’s only fifty-seven; and he thinks me the image of his mother; and he hates his daughter; and⁠—She is interrupted by the return of Valentine. | | Valentine | Miss Clandon has gone on. | | Philip | Don’t forget half past one. | | Dolly | Mind you leave Mr. Crampton with enough teeth to eat with. They go out. Valentine comes down to his cabinet, and opens it. | | Crampton | That’s a spoiled child, Mr. Valentine. That’s one of your modern products. When I was her age, I had many a good hiding fresh in my memory to teach me manners. | | Valentine | Taking up his dental mirror and probe from the shelf in front of the cabinet. What did you think of her sister? | | Crampton | You liked her better, eh? | | Valentine | Rhapsodically. She struck me as being⁠—He checks himself, and adds, prosaically, However, that’s not business. He places himself behind Crampton’s right shoulder and assumes his professional tone. Open, please. Crampton opens his mouth. Valentine puts the mirror in, and examines his teeth. Hm! You have broken that one. What a pity to spoil such a splendid set of teeth! Why do you crack nuts with them? He withdraws the mirror, and comes forward to converse with Crampton. | | Crampton | I’ve always cracked nuts with them: what else are they for? Dogmatically. The proper way to keep teeth good is to give them plenty of use on bones and nuts, and wash them every day with soap⁠—plain yellow soap. | | Valentine | Soap! Why soap? | | Crampton | I began using it as a boy because I was made to; and I’ve used it ever since. And I never had toothache in my life. | | Valentine | Don’t you find it rather nasty? | | Crampton | I found that most things that were good for me were nasty. But I was taught to put up with them, and made to put up with them. I’m used to it now: in fact, I like the taste when the soap is really good. | | Valentine | Making a wry face in spite of himself. You seem to have been very carefully educated, Mr. Crampton. | | Crampton | Grimly. I wasn’t spoiled, at all events. | | Valentine | Smiling a little to himself. Are you quite sure? | | Crampton | What d’y’ mean? | | Valentine | Well, your teeth are good, I admit. But I’ve seen just as good in very self-indulgent mouths. He goes to the ledge of cabinet and changes the probe for another one. | | Crampton | It’s not the effect on the teeth: it’s the effect on the character. | | Valentine | Placably. Oh, the character, I see. He recommences operations. A little wider, please. Hm! That one will have to come out: it’s past saving. He withdraws the probe and again comes to the side of the chair to converse. Don’t be alarmed: you shan’t feel anything. I’ll give you gas. | | Crampton | Rubbish, man: I want none of your gas. Out with it. People were taught to bear necessary pain in my day. | | Valentine | Oh, if you like being hurt, all right. I’ll hurt you as much as you like, without any extra charge for the beneficial effect on your character. | | Crampton | Rising and glaring at him. Young man: you owe me six weeks’ rent. | | Valentine | I do. | | Crampton | Can you pay me? | | Valentine | No. | | Crampton | Satisfied with his advantage. I thought not. How soon d’y’ think you’ll be able to pay me if you have no better manners than to make game of your patients? He sits down again. | | Valentine | My good sir: my patients haven’t all formed their characters on kitchen soap. | | Crampton | Suddenly gripping him by the arm as he turns away again to the cabinet. So much the worse for them. I tell you you don’t understand my character. If I could spare all my teeth, I’d make you pull them all out one after another to show you what a properly hardened man can go through with when he’s made up his mind to do it. He nods at him to enforce the effect of this declaration, and releases him. | | Valentine | His careless pleasantry quite unruffled. And you want to be more hardened, do you? | | Crampton | Yes. | | Valentine | Strolling away to the bell. Well, you’re quite hard enough for me already⁠—as a landlord. Crampton receives this with a growl of grim humor. Valentine rings the bell, and remarks in a cheerful, casual way, whilst waiting for it to be answered. Why did you never get married, Mr. Crampton? A wife and children would have taken some of the hardness out of you. | | Crampton | With unexpected ferocity. What the devil is that to you? The parlor maid appears at the door. | | Valentine | Politely. Some warm water, please. She retires: and Valentine comes back to the cabinet, not at all put out by Crampton’s* rudeness, and carries on the conversation whilst he selects a forceps and places it ready to his hand with a gag and a drinking glass. You were asking me what the devil that was to me. Well, I have an idea of getting married myself. | | Crampton | With grumbling irony. Naturally, sir, naturally. When a young man has come to his last farthing, and is within twenty-four hours of having his furniture distrained upon by his landlord, he marries. I’ve noticed that before. Well, marry; and be miserable. | | Valentine | Oh, come, what do you know about it? | | Crampton | I’m not a bachelor. | | Valentine | Then there is a Mrs. Crampton? | | Crampton | Wincing with a pang of resentment. Yes⁠—damn her! | | Valentine | Unperturbed. Hm! A father, too, perhaps, as well as a husband, Mr. Crampton? | | Crampton | Three children. | | Valentine | Politely. Damn them?⁠—eh? |