You Never Can Tell · Act II (2/2) (2/5)

| Philip | Sh! Consequently, he is only our solicitor. Do you know one Crampton, of this town? | | Waiter | Cockeyed Crampton, sir, of the Crooked Billet, is it? | | Philip | I don’t know. Finch: does he keep a public house? | | McComas | Rising scandalized. No, no, no. Your father, sir, is a well-known yacht builder, an eminent man here. | | Waiter | Impressed. Oh, beg pardon, sir, I’m sure. A son of Mr. Crampton’s! Dear me! | | Philip | Mr. Crampton is coming to lunch with us. | | Waiter | Puzzled. Yes, sir. Diplomatically. Don’t usually lunch with his family, perhaps, sir? | | Philip | Impressively. William: he does not know that we are his family. He has not seen us for eighteen years. He won’t know us. To emphasize the communication he seats himself on the iron table with a spring, and looks at the waiter with his lips compressed and his legs swinging. | | Dolly | We want you to break the news to him, William. | | Waiter | But I should think he’d guess when he sees your mother, miss. Philip’s legs become motionless at this elucidation. He contemplates the waiter raptly. | | Dolly | Dazzled. I never thought of that. | | Philip | Nor I. *Coming off the table and turning reproachfully on McComas. Nor you. | | Dolly | And you a solicitor! | | Philip | Finch: Your professional incompetence is appalling. William: your sagacity puts us all to shame. | | Dolly | You really are like Shakespeare, William. | | Waiter | Not at all, sir. Don’t mention it, miss. Most happy, I’m sure, sir. Goes back modestly to the luncheon table and lays the two additional covers, one at the end next the steps, and the other so as to make a third on the side furthest from the balustrade. | | Philip | Abruptly. Finch: come and wash your hands. Seizes his arm and leads him toward the hotel. | | McComas | I am thoroughly vexed and hurt, Mr. Clandon⁠— | | Philip | Interrupting him. You will get used to us. Come, Dolly. McComas shakes him off and marches into the hotel. Philip follows with unruffled composure. | | Dolly | Turning for a moment on the steps as she follows them. Keep your wits about you, William. There will be fireworks. | | Waiter | Right, miss. You may depend on me, miss. She goes into the hotel. | | | Valentine comes lightly up the steps from the beach, followed doggedly by Crampton. Valentine carries a walking stick. Crampton, either because he is old and chilly, or with some idea of extenuating the unfashionableness of his reefer jacket, wears a light overcoat. He stops at the chair left by McComas in the middle of the terrace, and steadies himself for a moment by placing his hand on the back of it. | | Crampton | Those steps make me giddy. He passes his hand over his forehead. I have not got over that infernal gas yet. | | | He goes to the iron chair, so that he can lean his elbows on the little table to prop his head as he sits. He soon recovers, and begins to unbutton his overcoat. Meanwhile Valentine interviews the waiter. | | Valentine | Waiter! | | Waiter | Coming forward between them. Yes, sir. | | Valentine | Mrs. Lanfrey Clandon. | | Waiter | With a sweet smile of welcome. Yes, sir. We’re expecting you, sir. That is your table, sir. Mrs. Clandon will be down presently, sir. The young lady and young gentleman were just talking about your friend, sir. | | Valentine | Indeed! | | Waiter | Smoothly melodious. Yes, sire. Great flow of spirits, sir. A vein of pleasantry, as you might say, sir. Quickly, to Crampton, who has risen to get the overcoat off. Beg pardon, sir, but if you’ll allow me. Helping him to get the overcoat off and taking it from him. Thank you, sir. Crampton sits down again; and the waiter resumes the broken melody. The young gentleman’s latest is that you’re his father, sir. | | Crampton | What! | | Waiter | Only his joke, sir, his favourite joke. Yesterday, I was to be his father. Today, as soon as he knew you were coming, sir, he tried to put it up on me that you were his father, his long lost father⁠—not seen you for eighteen years, he said. | | Crampton | Startled. Eighteen years! | | Waiter | Yes, sir. With gentle archness. But I was up to his tricks, sir. I saw the idea coming into his head as he stood there, thinking what new joke he’d have with me. Yes, sir: that’s the sort he is: very pleasant, ve⁠—ry off hand and affable indeed, sir. Again changing his tempo to say to Valentine, who is putting his stick down against the corner of the garden seat. If you’ll allow me, sir? Taking Valentine’s stick. Thank you, sir. Valentine strolls up to the luncheon table and looks at the menu. The waiter turns to Crampton and resumes his lay. Even the solicitor took up the joke, although he was in a manner of speaking in my confidence about the young gentleman, sir. Yes, sir, I assure you, sir. You would never imagine what respectable professional gentlemen from London will do on an outing, when the sea air takes them, sir. | | Crampton | Oh, there’s a solicitor with them, is there? | | Waiter | The family solicitor, sir⁠—yes, sir. Name of McComas, sir. He goes towards hotel entrance with coat and stick, happily unconscious of the bomblike effect the name has produced on Crampton. | | Crampton | Rising in angry alarm. McComas! Calls to Valentine. Valentine! Again, fiercely. Valentine!! Valentine turns. This is a plant, a conspiracy. This is my family⁠—my children⁠—my infernal wife. | | Valentine | Coolly. On, indeed! Interesting meeting! He resumes his study of the menu. | | Crampton | Meeting! Not for me. Let me out of this. Calling to the waiter. Give me that coat. | | Waiter | Yes, sir. He comes back, puts Valentine’s stick carefully down against the luncheon table; and delicately shakes the coat out and holds it for Crampton to put on. I seem to have done the young gentleman an injustice, sir, haven’t I, sir. | | Crampton | Rrrh! He stops on the point of putting his arms into the sleeves, and turns to Valentine with sudden suspicion. Valentine: you are in this. You made this plot. You⁠— | | Valentine | Decisively. Bosh! He throws the menu down and goes round the table to look out unconcernedly over the parapet. | | Crampton | Angrily. What d’ye⁠—McComas, followed by Philip and Dolly, comes out. He vacillates for a moment on seeing Crampton. | | Waiter | Softly⁠—interrupting Crampton. Steady, sir. Here they come, sir. He takes up the stick and makes for the hotel, throwing the coat across his arm. McComas turns the corners of his mouth resolutely down and crosses to Crampton, who draws back and glares, with his hands behind him. McComas, with his brow opener than ever, confronts him in the majesty of a spotless conscience. | | Waiter | Aside, as he passes Philip on his way out. I’ve broke it to him, sir. | | Philip | Invaluable William! He passes on to the table. | | Dolly | Aside to the waiter. How did he take it? | | Waiter | Aside to her. Startled at first, miss; but resigned⁠—very resigned, indeed, miss. He takes the stick and coat into the hotel. | | McComas | Having stared Crampton out of countenance. So here you are, Mr. Crampton. | | Crampton | Yes, here⁠—caught in a trap⁠—a mean trap. Are those my children? | | Philip | With deadly politeness. Is this our father, Mr. McComas? | | McComas | Yes⁠—er⁠—He loses countenance himself and stops. | | Dolly | Conventionally. Pleased to meet you again. She wanders idly round the table, exchanging a smile and a word of greeting with Valentine on the way. | | Philip | Allow me to discharge my first duty as host by ordering your wine. He takes the wine list from the table. His polite attention, and Dolly’s unconcerned indifference, leave Crampton on the footing of the casual acquaintance picked up that morning at the dentist’s. The consciousness of it goes through the father with so keen a pang that he trembles all over; his brow becomes wet; and he stares dumbly at his son, who, just conscious enough of his own callousness to intensely enjoy the humor and adroitness of it, proceeds pleasantly. Finch: some crusted old port for you, as a respectable family solicitor, eh? | | McComas | Firmly. Apollinaris only. I prefer to take nothing heating. He walks away to the side of the terrace, like a man putting temptation behind him. | | Philip | Valentine⁠—? | | Valentine | Would Lager be considered vulgar? | | Philip | Probably. We’ll order some. Dolly takes it. Turning to Crampton with cheerful politeness. And now, Mr. Crampton, what can we do for you? | | Crampton | What d’ye mean, boy? | | Philip | Boy! Very solemnly. Whose fault is it that I am a boy? | | | Crampton snatches the wine list rudely from him and irresolutely pretends to read it. Philip abandons it to him with perfect politeness. | | Dolly | Looking over Crampton’s right shoulder. The whisky’s on the last page but one. | | Crampton | Let me alone, child. | | Dolly | Child! No, no: you may call me Dolly if you like; but you mustn’t call me child. She slips her arm through Philip’s; and the two stand looking at Crampton as if he were some eccentric stranger. | | Crampton | Mopping his brow in rage and agony, and yet relieved even by their playing with him. McComas: we are⁠—ha!⁠—going to have a pleasant meal. | | McComas | Pusillanimously. There is no reason why it should not be pleasant. He looks abjectly gloomy. | | Philip | Finch’s face is a feast in itself. Mrs. Clandon and Gloria come from the hotel. Mrs. Clandon advances with courageous self-possession and marked dignity of manner. She stops at the foot of the steps to address Valentine, who is in her path. Gloria also stops, looking at Crampton with a certain repulsion. | | Mrs. Clandon | Glad to see you again, Mr. Valentine. He smiles. She passes on and confronts Crampton, intending to address him with perfect composure; but his aspect shakes her. She stops suddenly and says anxiously, with a touch of remorse. Fergus: you are greatly changed. | | Crampton | Grimly. I daresay. A man does change in eighteen years. | | Mrs. Clandon | Troubled. I⁠—I did not mean that. I hope your health is good. | | Crampton | Thank you. No: it’s not my health. It’s my happiness: that’s the change you meant, I think. Breaking out suddenly. Look at her, McComas! Look at her; and look at me! He utters a half laugh, half sob. | | Philip | Sh! Pointing to the hotel entrance, where the waiter has just appeared. Order before William! | | Dolly | Touching Crampton’s arm warningly with her finger. Ahem! The waiter goes to the service table and beckons to the kitchen entrance, whence issue a young waiter with soup plates, and a cook, in white apron and cap, with the soup tureen. The young waiter remains and serves: the cook goes out, and reappears from time to time bringing in the courses. He carves, but does not serve. The waiter comes to the end of the luncheon table next the steps. | | Mrs. Clandon | As they all assemble about the table. I think you have all met one another already today. Oh, no, excuse me. Introducing. Mr. Valentine: Mr. McComas. She goes to the end of the table nearest the hotel. Fergus: will you take the head of the table, please. | | Crampton | Ha! Bitterly. The head of the table! | | Waiter | Holding the chair for him with inoffensive encouragement. This end, sir. Crampton submits, and takes his seat. Thank you, sir. | | Mrs. Clandon | Mr. Valentine: will you take that side indicating the side nearest the parapet with Gloria? Valentine and Gloria take their places, Gloria next Crampton and Valentine next Mrs. Clandon. Finch: I must put you on this side, between Dolly and Phil. You must protect yourself as best you can. The three take the remaining side of the table, Dolly next her mother, Phil next his father, and McComas between them. Soup is served. | | Waiter | To Crampton. Thick or clear, sir? | | Crampton | To Mrs. Clandon. Does nobody ask a blessing in this household? | | Philip | Interposing smartly. Let us first settle what we are about to receive. William! | | Waiter | Yes, sir. He glides swiftly round the table to Phil’s left elbow. On his way he whispers to the young waiter. Thick. | | Philip | Two small Lagers for the children as usual, William; and one large for this gentleman indicating *Valentine. Large Apollinaris for Mr. McComas. | | Waiter | Yes, sir. | | Dolly | Have a six of Irish in it, Finch? | | McComas | Scandalized. No⁠—no, thank you. | | Philip | Number 413 for my mother and Miss Gloria as before; and⁠—turning enquiringly to Crampton Eh? | | Crampton | Scowling and about to reply offensively. I⁠— | | Waiter | Striking in mellifluously. All right, sir. We know what Mr. Crampton likes here, sir. He goes into the hotel. | | Philip | Looking gravely at his father. You frequent bars. Bad habit! *The cook, accompanied by a waiter with a supply of hot plates, brings in the fish from the kitchen to the service table, and begins slicing it. | | Crampton | You have learnt your lesson from your mother, I see. | | Mrs. Clandon | Phil: will you please remember that your jokes are apt to irritate people who are not accustomed to us, and that your father is our guest today. | | Crampton | Bitterly. Yes, a guest at the head of my own table. The soup plates are removed. | | Dolly | Sympathetically. Yes: it’s embarrassing, isn’t it? It’s just as bad for us, you know. | | Philip | Sh! Dolly: we are both wanting in tact. To Crampton. We mean well, Mr. Crampton; but we are not yet strong in the filial line. The waiter returns from the hotel with the drinks. William: come and restore good feeling. | | Waiter | Cheerfully. Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. Small Lager for you, sir. To Crampton. Seltzer and Irish, sir. To McComas. Apollinaris, sir. To Dolly. Small Lager, miss. To Mrs. Clandon, pouring out wine. 413, madam. To Valentine. Large Lager for you, sir. To Gloria. 413, miss. | | Dolly | Drinking. To the family! | | Philip | Drinking. Hearth and Home! Fish is served. | | McComas | With an obviously forced attempt at cheerful domesticity. We are getting on very nicely after all. | | Dolly | Critically. After all! After all what, Finch? | | Crampton | Sarcastically. He means that you are getting on very nicely in spite of the presence of your father. Do I take your point rightly, Mr. McComas? | | McComas | Disconcerted. No, no. I only said “after all” to round off the sentence. I⁠—er⁠—er⁠—er⁠— | | Waiter | Tactfully. Turbot, sir? | | McComas | Intensely grateful for the interruption. Thank you, waiter: thank you. | | Waiter | Sotto voce. Don’t mention it, sir. He returns to the service table. | | Crampton | To Phil. Have you thought of choosing a profession yet? | | Philip | I am keeping my mind open on that subject. William! | | Waiter | Yes, sir. | | Philip | How long do you think it would take me to learn to be a really smart waiter? | | Waiter | Can’t be learnt, sir. It’s in the character, sir. Confidentially to Valentine, who is looking about for something. Bread for the lady, sir? yes, sir. He serves bread to Gloria, and resumes at his former pitch. Very few are born to it, sir. | | Philip | You don’t happen to have such a thing as a son, yourself, have you? | | Waiter | Yes, sir: oh, yes, sir. To Gloria*, again dropping his voice. A little more fish, miss? you won’t care for the joint in the middle of the day. | | Gloria | No, thank you. The fish plates are removed. | | Dolly | Is your son a waiter, too, William? |