You Never Can Tell · Act II (2/2) (3/5)

| Waiter | Serving Gloria with fowl. Oh, no, miss, he’s too impetuous. He’s at the Bar. | | McComas | Patronizingly. A potman, eh? | | Waiter | With a touch of melancholy, as if recalling a disappointment softened by time. No, sir: the other bar⁠—your profession, sir. A Q.C., sir. | | McComas | Embarrassed. I’m sure I beg your pardon. | | Waiter | Not at all, sir. Very natural mistake, I’m sure, sir. I’ve often wished he was a potman, sir. Would have been off my hands ever so much sooner, sir. Aside to Valentine, who is again in difficulties. Salt at your elbow, sir. Resuming. Yes, sir: had to support him until he was thirty-seven, sir. But doing well now, sir: very satisfactory indeed, sir. Nothing less than fifty guineas, sir. | | McComas | Democracy, Crampton!⁠—modern democracy! | | Waiter | Calmly. No, sir, not democracy: only education, sir. Scholarships, sir. Cambridge Local, sir. Sidney Sussex College, sir. Dolly plucks his sleeve and whispers as he bends down. Stone ginger, miss? Right, miss. *To McComas. Very good thing for him, sir: he never had any turn for real work, sir. He goes into the hotel, leaving the company somewhat overwhelmed by his son’s eminence. | | Valentine | Which of us dare give that man an order again! | | Dolly | I hope he won’t mind my sending him for ginger-beer. | | Crampton | Doggedly. While he’s a waiter it’s his business to wait. If you had treated him as a waiter ought to be treated, he’d have held his tongue. | | Dolly | What a loss that would have been! Perhaps he’ll give us an introduction to his son and get us into London society. The waiter reappears with the ginger-beer. | | Crampton | Growling contemptuously. London society! London society!! You’re not fit for any society, child. | | Dolly | Losing her temper. Now look here, Mr. Crampton. If you think⁠— | | Waiter | Softly, at her elbow. Stone ginger, miss. | | Dolly | Taken aback, recovers her good humor after a long breath and says sweetly. Thank you, dear William. You were just in time. She drinks. | | McComas | Making a fresh effort to lead the conversation into dispassionate regions. If I may be allowed to change the subject, Miss Clandon, what is the established religion in Madeira? | | Gloria | I suppose the Portuguese religion. I never inquired. | | Dolly | The servants come in Lent and kneel down before you and confess all the things they’ve done: and you have to pretend to forgive them. Do they do that in England, William? | | Waiter | Not usually, miss. They may in some parts: but it has not come under my notice, miss. Catching Mrs. Clandon’s eye as the young waiter offers her the salad bowl. You like it without dressing, ma’am: yes, ma’am, I have some for you. To his young colleague, motioning him to serve Gloria. This side, Jo. He takes a special portion of salad from the service table and puts it beside Mrs. Clandon’s plate. In doing so he observes that Dolly is making a wry face. Only a bit of watercress, miss, got in by mistake. He takes her salad away. Thank you, miss. To the young waiter, admonishing him to serve Dolly afresh. Jo. Resuming. Mostly members of the Church of England, miss. | | Dolly | Members of the Church of England! What’s the subscription? | | Crampton | Rising violently amid general consternation. You see how my children have been brought up, McComas. You see it; you hear it. I call all of you to witness⁠—He becomes inarticulate, and is about to strike his fist recklessly on the table when the waiter considerately takes away his plate. | | Mrs. Clandon | Firmly. Sit down, Fergus. There is no occasion at all for this outburst. You must remember that Dolly is just like a foreigner here. Pray sit down. | | Crampton | Subsiding unwillingly. I doubt whether I ought to sit here and countenance all this. I doubt it. | | Waiter | Cheese, sir; or would you like a cold sweet? | | Crampton | Taken aback. What? Oh!⁠—cheese, cheese. | | Dolly | Bring a box of cigarettes, William. | | Waiter | All ready, miss. He takes a box of cigarettes from the service table and places them before Dolly, who selects one and prepares to smoke. He then returns to his table for a box of vestas. | | Crampton | Staring aghast at Dolly. Does she smoke? | | Dolly | Out of patience. Really, Mr. Crampton, I’m afraid I’m spoiling your lunch. I’ll go and have my cigarette on the beach. She leaves the table with petulant suddenness and goes down the steps. The waiter attempts to give her the matches; but she is gone before he can reach her. | | Crampton | Furiously. Margaret: call that girl back. Call her back, I say. | | McComas | Trying to make peace. Come, Crampton: never mind. She’s her father’s daughter: that’s all. | | Mrs. Clandon | With deep resentment. I hope not, Finch. She rises: they all rise a little. Mr. Valentine: will you excuse me: I am afraid Dolly is hurt and put out by what has passed. I must go to her. | | Crampton | To take her part against me, you mean. | | Mrs. Clandon | Ignoring him. Gloria: will you take my place whilst I am away, dear. She crosses to the steps. Crampton’s eyes follow her with bitter hatred. The rest watch her in embarrassed silence, feeling the incident to be a very painful one. | | Waiter | Intercepting her at the top of the steps and offering her a box of vestas. Young lady forgot the matches, ma’am. If you would be so good, ma’am. | | Mrs. Clandon | Surprised into grateful politeness by the witchery of his sweet and cheerful tones. Thank you very much. She takes the matches and goes down to the beach. The waiter shepherds his assistant along with him into the hotel by the kitchen entrance, leaving the luncheon party to themselves. | | Crampton | Throwing himself back in his chair. There’s a mother for you, McComas! There’s a mother for you! | | Gloria | Steadfastly. Yes: a good mother. | | Crampton | And a bad father? That’s what you mean, eh? | | Valentine | Rising indignantly and addressing Gloria. Miss Clandon: I⁠— | | Crampton | Turning on him. That girl’s name is Crampton, Mr. Valentine, not Clandon. Do you wish to join them in insulting me? | | Valentine | Ignoring him. I’m overwhelmed, Miss Clandon. It’s all my fault: I brought him here: I’m responsible for him. And I’m ashamed of him. | | Crampton | What d’y’ mean? | | Gloria | Rising coldly. No harm has been done, Mr. Valentine. We have all been a little childish, I am afraid. Our party has been a failure: let us break it up and have done with it. She puts her chair aside and turns to the steps, adding, with slighting composure, as she passes Crampton. Goodbye, father. | | | She descends the steps with cold, disgusted indifference. They all look after her, and so do not notice the return of the waiter from the hotel, laden with Crampton’s coat, Valentine’s stick, a couple of shawls and parasols, a white canvas umbrella, and some camp stools. | | Crampton | To himself, staring after Gloria with a ghastly expression. Father! Father!! He strikes his fist violently on the table. Now⁠— | | Waiter | Offering the coat. This is yours, sir, I think, sir. Crampton glares at him; then snatches it rudely and comes down the terrace towards the garden seat, struggling with the coat in his angry efforts to put it on. McComas rises and goes to his assistance; then takes his hat and umbrella from the little iron table, and turns towards the steps. Meanwhile the waiter, after thanking Crampton with unruffled sweetness for taking the coat, offers some of his burden to Phil. The ladies’ sunshades, sir. Nasty glare off the sea today, sir: very trying to the complexion, sir. I shall carry down the camp stools myself, sir. | | Philip | You are old, Father William; but you are the most considerate of men. No: keep the sunshades and give me the camp stools. Taking them. | | Waiter | With flattering gratitude. Thank you, sir. | | Philip | Finch: share with me. Giving him a couple. Come along. They go down the steps together. | | Valentine | To the waiter. Leave me something to bring down⁠—one of these. Offering to take a sunshade. | | Waiter | Discreetly. That’s the younger lady’s, sir. Valentine lets it go. Thank you, sir. If you’ll allow me, sir, I think you had better have this. He puts down the sunshades on Crampton’s chair, and produces from the tail pocket of his dress coat, a book with a lady’s handkerchief between the leaves, marking the page. The eldest young lady is reading it at present. Valentine takes it eagerly. Thank you, sir. Schopenhauer, sir, you see. He takes up the sunshades again. Very interesting author, sir: especially on the subject of ladies, sir. He goes down the steps. Valentine, about to follow him, recollects Crampton and changes his mind. | | Valentine | Coming rather excitedly to Crampton. Now look here, Crampton: are you at all ashamed of yourself? | | Crampton | Pugnaciously. Ashamed of myself! What for? | | Valentine | For behaving like a bear. What will your daughter think of me for having brought you here? | | Crampton | I was not thinking of what my daughter was thinking of you. | | Valentine | No, you were thinking of yourself. You’re a perfect maniac. | | Crampton | Heartrent. She told you what I am⁠—a father⁠—a father robbed of his children. What are the hearts of this generation like? Am I to come here after all these years⁠—to see what my children are for the first time! to hear their voices!⁠—and carry it all off like a fashionable visitor; drop in to lunch; be Mr. Crampton⁠—Mister Crampton! What right have they to talk to me like that? I’m their father: do they deny that? I’m a man, with the feelings of our common humanity: have I no rights, no claims? In all these years who have I had round me? Servants, clerks, business acquaintances. I’ve had respect from them⁠—aye, kindness. Would one of them have spoken to me as that girl spoke?⁠—would one of them have laughed at me as that boy was laughing at me all the time? Frantically. My own children! Mister Crampton! My⁠— | | Valentine | Come, come: they’re only children. The only one of them that’s worth anything called you father. | | Crampton | Wildly. Yes: “goodbye, father.” Oh, yes: she got at my feelings⁠—with a stab! | | Valentine | Taking this in very bad part. Now look here, Crampton: you just let her alone: she’s treated you very well. I had a much worse time of it at lunch than you. | | Crampton | You! | | Valentine | With growing impetuosity. Yes: I. I sat next to her; and I never said a single thing to her the whole time⁠—couldn’t think of a blessed word. And not a word did she say to me. | | Crampton | Well? | | Valentine | Well? Well??? Tackling him very seriously and talking faster and faster. Crampton: do you know what’s been the matter with me today? You don’t suppose, do you, that I’m in the habit of playing such tricks on my patients as I played on you? | | Crampton | I hope not. | | Valentine | The explanation is that I’m stark mad, or rather that I’ve never been in my real senses before. I’m capable of anything: I’ve grown up at last: I’m a Man; and it’s your daughter that’s made a man of me. | | Crampton | Incredulously. Are you in love with my daughter? | | Valentine | His words now coming in a perfect torrent. Love! Nonsense: it’s something far above and beyond that. It’s life, it’s faith, it’s strength, certainty, paradise⁠— | | Crampton | Interrupting him with acrid contempt. Rubbish, man! What have you to keep a wife on? You can’t marry her. | | Valentine | Who wants to marry her? I’ll kiss her hands; I’ll kneel at her feet; I’ll live for her; I’ll die for her; and that’ll be enough for me. Look at her book! See! He kisses the handkerchief. If you offered me all your money for this excuse for going down to the beach and speaking to her again, I’d only laugh at you. He rushes buoyantly off to the steps, where he bounces right into the arms of the waiter, who is coming up form the beach. The two save themselves from falling by clutching one another tightly round the waist and whirling one another around. | | Waiter | Delicately. Steady, sir, steady. | | Valentine | Shocked at his own violence. I beg your pardon. | | Waiter | Not at all, sir, not at all. Very natural, sir, I’m sure, sir, at your age. The lady has sent me for her book, sir. Might I take the liberty of asking you to let her have it at once, sir? | | Valentine | With pleasure. And if you will allow me to present you with a professional man’s earnings for six weeks⁠—.Offering him Dolly’s crown piece. | | Waiter | As if the sum were beyond his utmost expectations. Thank you, sir: much obliged. Valentine dashes down the steps. Very high-spirited young gentleman, sir: very manly and straight set up. | | Crampton | In grumbling disparagement. And making his fortune in a hurry, no doubt. I know what his six weeks’ earnings come to. He crosses the terrace to the iron table, and sits down. | | Waiter | Philosophically. Well, sir, you never can tell. That’s a principle in life with me, sir, if you’ll excuse my having such a thing, sir. Delicately sinking the philosopher in the waiter for a moment. Perhaps you haven’t noticed that you hadn’t touched that seltzer and Irish, sir, when the party broke up. He takes the tumbler from the luncheon table, and sets if before Crampton*. Yes, sir, you never can tell. There was my son, sir! who ever thought that he would rise to wear a silk gown, sir? And yet today, sir, nothing less than fifty guineas, sir. What a lesson, sir! | | Crampton | Well, I hope he is grateful to you, and recognizes what he owes you. | | Waiter | We get on together very well, very well indeed, sir, considering the difference in our stations. With another of his irresistible transitions. A small lump of sugar, sir, will take the flatness out of the seltzer without noticeably sweetening the drink, sir. Allow me, sir. He drops a lump of sugar into the tumbler. But as I say to him, where’s the difference after all? If I must put on a dress coat to show what I am, sir, he must put on a wig and gown to show what he is. If my income is mostly tips, and there’s a pretence that I don’t get them, why, his income is mostly fees, sir; and I understand there’s a pretence that he don’t get them! If he likes society, and his profession brings him into contact with all ranks, so does mine, too, sir. If it’s a little against a barrister to have a waiter for his father, sir, it’s a little against a waiter to have a barrister for a son: many people consider it a great liberty, sir, I assure you, sir. Can I get you anything else, sir? | | Crampton | No, thank you. With bitter humility. I suppose that’s no objection to my sitting here for a while: I can’t disturb the party on the beach here. | | Waiter | With emotion. Very kind of you, sir, to put it as if it was not a compliment and an honour to us, Mr. Crampton, very kind indeed. The more you are at home here, sir, the better for us. | | Crampton | In poignant irony. Home! | | Waiter | Reflectively. Well, yes, sir: that’s a way of looking at it, too, sir. I have always said that the great advantage of a hotel is that it’s a refuge from home life, sir. | | Crampton | I missed that advantage today, I think. | | Waiter | You did, sir, you did. Dear me! It’s the unexpected that always happens, isn’t it? Shaking his head. You never can tell, sir: you never can tell. He goes into the hotel. |