The Last of the De Mullins: A Play Without a Preface

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 54699 *** THE LAST OF THE DE MULLINS A Play without a Preface By St. John Hankin London: A. C. Fifield 1909 The Persons in the Play Hugo De Mullin Jane De Mullin.....His wife Mrs. Clouston......His sister. Janet De Mullin....(Mrs. Seagrave) Hugo’s eldest daughter. Johnny Seagrave....Her son. Hester De Mullin...Her sister. Bertha Aldenham Monty Bulstead Dr. Rolt...........The local doctor. Mr. Brown..........The curate. Miss Deanes Ellen..............Maid at the De Mullins’. The action of the play takes place at Brendon Underwood in Dorset, Acts I and III at the Manor House, the De Mullins’ house in the village, Act II on the borders of Brendon Forest. Three days pass between Acts I and II, five between Acts II and III. ACT I _Scene:_ The Inner Hall at the Manor House in Brendon-Underwood village. An old-fashioned white-panelled room. At the back is a big stone-mullioned Tudor window looking out on to the garden. On the left of this is a bay in which is a smaller window. A door in the bay leads out into the garden. People entering by this door pass the window before they appear. The furniture is oak, mostly Jacobean or older. The right-hand wall of the room is mainly occupied by a great Tudor fireplace, over which the De Mullin Coat of Arms is carved in stone. Above this a door leads to the outer hall and front door. A door on the opposite side of the room leads to the staircase and the rest of the house. The walls are hung with a long succession of family portraits of all periods and in all stages of dinginess as to both canvas and frame. When the curtain rises the stage is empty. Then Hester is seen to pass the window at the back, followed by Mr. Brown. A moment later they enter. Mr. Brown is a stout, rather unwholesome-looking curate, Hester a lean, angular girl of twenty-eight, very plainly and unattractively dressed in sombre tight-fitting clothes. She has a cape over her shoulders and a black hat on. Brown wears seedy clerical garments, huge boots and a squashy hat. The time is twelve o’clock in the morning of a fine day in September. HESTER Come in, Mr. Brown. I’ll tell mother you’re here. I expect she’s upstairs with father (going towards door). BROWN Don’t disturb Mrs. De Mullin, please. I didn’t mean to come in. HESTER You’ll sit down now you _are_ here? BROWN Thank you (_does so awkwardly_). I’m so glad to hear Mr. De Mullin is better. The Vicar will be glad too. HESTER Yes. Dr. Rolt thinks he will do all right now. BROWN You must have been very anxious when he was first taken ill. HESTER We were terribly anxious. [Hester _takes off her hat and cape and puts them down on the window seat_. BROWN I suppose there’s no doubt it was some sort of stroke? HESTER Dr. Rolt says no doubt. BROWN How did it happen? HESTER We don’t know. He had just gone out of the room when we heard a fall. Mother ran out into the hall and found him lying by the door quite unconscious. She was dreadfully frightened. So were we all. BROWN Had he been complaining of feeling unwell? HESTER Not specially. He complained of the heat a little. And he had a headache. But father’s not strong, you know. None of the De Mullins are, Aunt Harriet says. BROWN Mrs. Clouston is with you now, isn’t she? HESTER Yes. For a month. She generally stays with us for a month in the summer. BROWN I suppose she’s very fond of Brendon? HESTER All the De Mullins are fond of Brendon, Mr. Brown. BROWN Naturally. You have been here so long. HESTER Since the time of King Stephen. BROWN Not in this house? HESTER (smiling) Not in this house, of course. It’s not old enough for that. BROWN Still, it must be very old. The oldest house in the Village, isn’t it? HESTER Only about four hundred years. The date is 1603. The mill is older, of course. BROWN You still own the mill, don’t you? HESTER Yes. Father would never part with it. He thinks everything of the mill. We get our name from it, you know. De Mullin. Du Moulin. “Of the Mill.” BROWN Were the original De Mullins millers then? HESTER (_rather shocked at such a suggestion_) Oh no! BROWN I thought they couldn’t have been. . HESTER No De Mullin has ever been in trade of _any_ kind! But in the old days to own a mill was a feudal privilege. Only lords of manors and the great abbeys had them. The farmers had to bring all their corn to them to be ground. BROWN I see. HESTER There were constant disputes about it all through the Middle Ages. BROWN Why was that? HESTER The farmers would rather have ground their corn for themselves, I suppose. BROWN Why? If the De Mullins were willing to do it for them? HESTER They had to pay for having it ground, of course. BROWN (_venturing on a small joke_) Then the De Mullins _were_ millers, after all, in a sense. HESTER You mustn’t let father hear you say so! BROWN The mill is never used now, is it? HESTER No. When, people gave up growing corn round here and all the land was turned into pasture it fell into decay, and now it’s almost ruinous. BROWN What a pity! HESTER Yes. Father says England has never been the same since the repeal of the Corn laws. (_Enter Mrs. De Mullin and Mrs. Clouston by the door on the left, followed by Dr. Rolt._) Here is mother--and Aunt Harriet. _Mrs. De Mullin, poor lady, is a crushed, timid creature of fifty-eight or so, entirely dominated by the De Mullin fetish and quite unable to hold her own against either her husband or her sister-in-law, a hardmouthed, resolute woman of sixty. Even Hester she finds almost too much for her. For the rest a gentle, kindly lady, rather charming in her extreme helplessness. Rolt is the average country doctor, brisk, sensible, neither a fool nor a genius._ ROLT (as they enter the room) He’s better. Distinctly better. A little weak and depressed, of course. That’s only to be expected. Good morning. [_Shakes hands with Hester. Nods to Brown_. MRS. DE MULLIN Mr. De Mullin is always nervous about himself. ROLT Yes. Constitutional, no doubt. But he’ll pick up in a few days. Keep him as quiet as you can. That’s really all he needs now. MRS. DE MULLIN You don’t think he ought to stay in his room? ... Good morning, Mr. Brown. Are you waiting to see me? [_Brown shakes hands with both ladies._ BROWN (_awkwardly_) Not specially. I walked over from the church with Miss De Mullin. HESTER Is father coming downstairs, mother? MRS. DE MULLIN Yes, Hester. He insisted on getting up. You know he always hates staying in his room. HESTER Oh, Dr. Rolt, do you think he _should?_ ROLT I don’t think it will do him any harm. He can rest quietly in a chair or on the sofa.... Well, I must be off. Good-bye, Mrs. De Mullin. [_Shakes hands briskly with every one_. BROWN (_rising ponderously_) I must be going too (_shakes hands with Mrs. De Mullin_). You’ll tell Mr. De Mullin I inquired after him? Good-bye, Mrs. Clouston (_shakes hands_). And you’re coming to help with the Harvest Decorations on Saturday, aren’t you, Miss De Mullin? HESTER _(shaking hands)_ Of course. [_Brown and Rolt go out._ MRS. CLOUSTON _(seating herself and beginning to knit resolutely)_ What singularly unattractive curates the Vicar seems to get hold of, Jane!. MRS. DE MULLIN _(meekly)_ Do you think so, Harriet? MRS. CLOUSTON Quite remarkably. This Mr. Brown, for instance. He has the most enormous _feet!_ And his boots! I’ve never seen such boots! HESTER _(flushing)_ We needn’t sneer if Mr. Brown doesn’t wear fine clothes, Aunt Harriet. MRS. CLOUSTON Of course not Hester. Still, I think he goes to the opposite extreme. And he really is quite abnormally plain. Then there was that Mr. Snood, who was curate when I was down last year. The man with the very red hands. (_These acid comments are too much for Hester, who flounces out angrily. Mrs. Clouston looks up for a moment, wondering what is the meaning of this sudden disappearance. Then continues unmoved._) I’m afraid the clergy aren’t what they were in our young days, Jane. MRS. DE MULLIN I don’t think I’ve noticed any falling off. MRS. CLOUSTON It is there all the same. I’m sure Hugo would agree with me. Of course, curates are paid next to nothing. Still, I think the Vicar might be more happy in his choice. MRS. DE MULLIN I believe the poor like him. MRS. CLOUSTON _(to whom this seems of small importance compared with his shocking social disabilities)_ Very likely.... Do please keep still, Jane, and don’t fidget with that book. What is the matter with you? MRS. DE MULLIN I’m a little nervous this morning. Hugo’s illness... MRS. CLOUSTON Hugo’s almost well now. MRS. DE MULLIN Still the anxiety... MRS. CLOUSTON Nonsense, Jane. Anxiety is not at all a thing to give way to, especially when there’s no longer anything to be anxious about. Hugo’s practically well now. Dr. Rolt seems to have frightened us all quite unnecessarily. MRS. DE MULLIN I suppose it’s difficult to tell. MRS. CLOUSTON Of course, it’s difficult. Otherwise no one would send for a doctor. What are doctors for if they can’t tell when a case is serious and when it is not? MRS. DE MULLIN But if he didn’t know? MRS. CLOUSTON Then he _ought_ to have known. Next time Hugo is ill you’d better send to Bridport. _(Mrs. De Mullin drops book on table with a clatter)_ Really, Jane, what are you doing? Throwing books about like that! MRS. DE MULLIN It slipped out of my hand.,, [_Rises and goes up to window restlessly._ MRS. CLOUSTON Is anything wrong? MRS. DE MULLIN _(hesitating)_ Well, the truth is I’ve done something, Harriet, and now I’m not sure whether I ought to have done it. Mrs. Clouston Done what? MRS. DE MULLIN _(dolorously)_ I’m afraid you won’t approve. MRS. CLOUSTON Perhaps you’d better tell me what it is. Then we shall know. MRS. DE MULLIN The fact is some one is coming here this morning, Harriet--to see Hugo. MRS. CLOUSTON To see Hugo? Who is it? MRS. DE MULLIN Janet. MRS. CLOUSTON _(with horror)_ Janet? MRS. DE MULLIN Yes. MRS. CLOUSTON Janet! She wouldn’t _dare!_ MRS. DE MULLIN _(dolorously)_ I sent for her, Harriet. MRS. CLOUSTON You _sent_ for her? MRS. DE MULLIN Yes. When Hugo was first taken ill and Dr. Rolt seemed to think the attack was so serious.... MRS. CLOUSTON Dr. Rolt was a fool. MRS. DE MULLIN Very likely, Harriet. But he said Hugo might die. And he said if there was any one Hugo would wish to see.... MRS. CLOUSTON But would Hugo wish to see Janet? MRS. DE MULLIN I thought he might. After all Janet _is_ his daughter. Mrs. Clouston I thought he said he would never see her again? MRS. DE MULLIN He did _say_ that, of course. But that was eight years ago. And, of course, he wasn’t ill then. MRS. CLOUSTON When did you send for her? MRS. DE MULLIN Three days ago. MRS. CLOUSTON Why didn’t she come _then_, if she was coming at all? MRS. DE MULLIN She was away from home. That was so unfortunate. If she had come when Hugo was ill in bed it might have been all right. But now that he’s almost well again.... MRS. CLOUSTON When did you hear she was coming? MRS. DE MULLIN Only this morning. Here is what she says.. [_Produces telegram from pocket_. MRS. CLOUSTON _(reads)_ “Telegram delayed. Arrive mid-day. Seagrave.” Seagrave? MRS. DE MULLIN Yes. She calls herself Mrs. Seagrave now. MRS. CLOUSTON _(nods)_ On account of the child, I suppose. MRS. DE MULLIN I suppose so. MRS. CLOUSTON I never could understand how Janet came to go so wrong. _(Mrs. De Mullin sighs.)_ None of the _De Mullins_ have ever done such a thing before. MRS. DE MULLIN _(plaintively)_ I’m sure she doesn’t get it from _my_ family. MRS. CLOUSTON Well, she must have got it from _somewhere_. She’s not in the least like a De Mullin. MRS. DE MULLIN _(lamentably_) I believe it was all through bicycling. MRS. CLOUSTON Bicycling? MRS. DE MULLIN Yes. When girls usen’t to scour about the country as they do now these things didn’t happen. MRS. CLOUSTON _(severely)_ I never approved of Janet’s bicycling you remember, Jane. MRS. DE MULLIN Nor did I, Harriet. But it was no use. Janet only laughed. Janet never would do what she was told about things even when she was quite a child. She was so very obstinate. She was always getting some idea or other into her head. And when she did nothing would prevent her from carrying it out. At one time she wanted to _teach_. MRS. CLOUSTON I remember. MRS. DE MULLIN She said girls ought to go out and earn their own living like boys. MRS. CLOUSTON What nonsense! MRS. DE MULLIN So Hugo said. But Janet wouldn’t listen. Finally we had to let her go over and teach the Aldenham girls French three times a week, just to keep her amused. MRS. CLOUSTON _(thoughtfully)_ It was strange you never could find out who the father was. MRS. DE MULLIN _(sighs)_ Yes. She wouldn’t tell us. MRS. CLOUSTON You should have made her tell you. Hugo should have insisted on it. MRS. DE MULLIN Hugo did insist. He was terribly angry with her. He sent her to her room and said she was not to come down till she told us. But it was no use. Janet just stayed in her room till we had all gone to bed and then took the train to London. MRS. CLOUSTON You should have locked her door. MRS. DE MULLIN We did. She got out of the window. MRS. CLOUSTON Got out of the window! The girl might have been killed. MRS. DE MULLIN Yes. But Janet was always fond of climbing. And she was never afraid of anything. MRS. CLOUSTON But there’s no late train to London. MRS. DE MULLIN She caught the mail at Weymouth, I suppose. MRS. CLOUSTON Do you mean to say she _walked_ all the way to Weymouth in the middle of the night? Why, it’s twelve miles. MRS. DE MULLIN She had her bicycle as I said. MRS. CLOUSTON Tck!... How did you know she went to London? MRS. DE MULLIN She wrote from there, for her things. MRS. CLOUSTON I wonder she wasn’t ashamed. MRS. DE MULLIN So Hugo said. However, he said I might send them. But he made me send a letter with the things to say that he would have nothing more to do with her and that she was not to write again. For a time she didn’t write. Nearly five months. Then, when her baby was born, she wrote to tell me. That was how I knew she had taken the name of Seagrave. She mentioned it. MRS. CLOUSTON Did you show the letter to Hugo? MRS. DE MULLIN Yes. MRS. CLOUSTON What did he say? MRS. DE MULLIN Nothing. He just read it and gave it back to me without a word. MRS. CLOUSTON That’s the last you’ve heard of her, I suppose? MRS. DE MULLIN Oh no, Harriet. MRS. CLOUSTON Do you mean to say she goes _on_ writing? And you allow her? When Hugo said she was not to? MRS. DE MULLIN _(meekly)_ Yes. Not often, Harriet. Only occasionally. MRS. CLOUSTON She has no business to write at all. MRS. DE MULLIN Her letters are quite short. Sometimes I wish they were longer. They really tell one nothing about herself, though I often ask her. MRS. CLOUSTON You _ask_ her! Then _you_ write too! MRS. DE MULLIN I answer her letters, of course. Otherwise she wouldn’t go on writing. ‘ MRS. CLOUSTON Really, Jane, I’m surprised at you. So you’ve actually been corresponding with Janet all these years--and never told _me!_ I think you’ve behaved very badly. MRS. DE MULLIN I didn’t like to, Harriet. MRS. CLOUSTON Didn’t like to! MRS. DE MULLIN And as you don’t think I _ought_ to hear from her.... MRS. CLOUSTON. I don’t think you ought to hear from her, of course. But as you do hear naturally I should like to have seen the letters. MRS. DE MULLIN I didn’t know that, Harriet. In fact, I thought you would rather not. When a dreadful thing like this happens in a family it seems best not to write about it or to speak of it either, doesn’t it? Hugo and I never speak of it. MRS. CLOUSTON Does Hugo know you hear from her? MRS. DE MULLIN I think not. I have never told him. Nor Hester. I’m sure Hester would disapprove. MRS. CLOUSTON My dear Jane, what _can_ it matter whether Hester approves or not? Hester knows nothing about such things. At _her_ age! MRS. DE MULLIN Hester is twenty-eight. MRS. CLOUSTON Exactly. A girl like that. MRS. DE MULLIN _(sighs)_ Girls have such very strong opinions nowadays. Mrs. Clouston What does Janet live on? Teaching? MRS. DE MULLIN I suppose so. She had her Aunt Miriam’s legacy, of four hundred pounds of course. MRS. CLOUSTON Only four hundred pounds. MRS. DE MULLIN Yes. MRS. CLOUSTON I never approved of that legacy, Jane. Girls oughtn’t to have money left them. It makes them too independent. MRS. DE MULLIN Aunt Miriam was always so fond of Janet. MRS. CLOUSTON Then she should have left the money to Hugo. Fathers are the proper people to leave money to. MRS. DE MULLIN Hugo did have the _management_ of the money--till Janet was twenty-one. MRS. CLOUSTON Why only till she was twenty-one? MRS. DE MULLIN It was so in Aunt Miriam’s will. Of course, Hugo would have gone on managing it for her. It was very little trouble as it was all in Consols. But Janet said she would rather look after it for herself. MRS. CLOUSTON Ridiculous! As if girls could possibly manage money! MRS. DE MULLIN So Hugo said. But Janet insisted. So she got her way. MRS. CLOUSTON What did she do with it? Spend it? MRS. DE MULLIN No. Put it into a Railway, she said. MRS. CLOUSTON A Railway! How dangerous! MRS. DE MULLIN She said she would prefer it. She said Railways sometimes went up. Consols never. MRS. CLOUSTON She lost it all, of course? MRS. DE MULLIN I don’t know, Harriet. MRS. CLOUSTON You don’t _know?_ MRS. DE MULLIN No. I never liked to ask. Hugo was rather hurt about the whole thing, so the subject was never referred to. MRS. CLOUSTON Let me see. The child must be eight years old by now. MRS. DE MULLIN Just eight. It will be nine years next March since Janet went away. MRS. CLOUSTON What did she call him? MRS. DE MULLIN Johnny. MRS. CLOUSTON Johnny! None of the De Mullins have ever been called _Johnny_. MRS. DE MULLIN Perhaps it was his father’s name. MRS. CLOUSTON Perhaps so _(pause)_. MRS. DE MULLIN Do you think I ought to tell Hugo about Janet’s coming? MRS. CLOUSTON Certainly. MRS. DE MULLIN I thought perhaps.... MRS. CLOUSTON Nonsense, Jane. Of course, he must be told. You ought to have told him from the very beginning? MRS. DE MULLIN Do you mean when I sent the telegram? But Hugo was unconscious. MRS. CLOUSTON As soon as he recovered consciousness then. MRS. DE MULLIN I did mean to. But he seemed so weak, and Dr. Rolt said any excitement.... MRS. CLOUSTON Dr. Rolt! MRS. DE MULLIN _(goaded)_ Well, I couldn’t tell that Dr. Rolt knew so little about Hugo’s illness, could I? And I was afraid of the shock. MRS. CLOUSTON Still, he should have been told at once. It was the only chance. MRS. DE MULLIN Yes. I see that now. But I was afraid of the shock, as I said. So I put it off. And then, when I didn’t hear from Janet, I thought I would wait. MRS. CLOUSTON Why? MRS. DE MULLIN You see I didn’t know whether she was coming. And if she didn’t come, of course there was no necessity for telling Hugo anything about it. I’m afraid he’ll be very angry. MRS. CLOUSTON At any rate, you must tell him now. The sooner the better. MRS. DE MULLIN _(meekly)_ Very well, Harriet. If you think so. MRS. CLOUSTON You had better go up to him at once. [_Mrs. De Mullin goes to the door on the left, opens it, then draws back hastily_. MRS. DE MULLIN Here _is_ Hugo. He’s just coming across the hall. With Hester. How unlucky. MRS. CLOUSTON I don’t see that it matters. MRS. DE MULLIN I’d rather not have told him before Hester. [_Mrs. Clouston shrugs her shoulders. A moment later Hugo enters. He leans on a stick and Hester’s arm. He looks weak and pale and altogether extremely sorry for himself, obviously a nervous and a very tiresome patient._ HESTER Carefully, father. That’s right. Will you lie on the sofa? DE MULLIN _(fretfully)_ No. Put me in the armchair. I’m tired of lying down. HESTER Very well. Let me help you. There. Wait a moment. I’ll fetch you some pillows. _[Props him up on pillows in an armchair._ DE MULLIN Thank you. _[Lies back exhausted and closes his eyes._ MRS. DE MULLIN _(going to him)_ How are you feeling now, Hugo? DE MULLIN Very weak. MRS. DE MULLIN I wonder if you ought to have come down? DE MULLIN It won’t make any difference. Nothing will make any difference any more, Jane. I shan’t last much longer. I’m worn out. HESTER Father! DE MULLIN Yes, Hester. Worn out _(with a sort of melancholy pride)_. None of the De Mullins have been strong. I’m the last of them. The last of the De Mullins. MRS. CLOUSTON Come, Hugo, you mustn’t talk in that morbid way. DE MULLIN I’m not morbid, Harriet. But I feel tired, tired. MRS. DE MULLIN You’ll be better in a day or two. DE MULLIN No, Jane. I shall never be better. Never in _this_ world _(pause)._ MRS. DE MULLIN _(nervously)_ Hugo... there’s something... something I have to tell you.... DE MULLIN What is it, Jane? _(fretfully)_. What have you been keeping from me? MRS. DE MULLIN I ought to have told you before. Only I didn’t like... DE MULLIN Is it something about my illness? MRS. DE MULLIN Oh no, Hugo. DE MULLIN _(relieved)_ I thought Dr. Rolt might have said something. MRS. DE MULLIN It’s nothing of that kind. DE MULLIN _(peevishly)_ Well, well, what is it? MRS. DE MULLIN Hugo, some one is coming here to-day, to see _you_. DE MULLIN To see _me?_ Who? MRS. DE MULLIN You won’t be angry, Hugo? DE MULLIN _(testily)_ How can I possibly say that, Jane, when I don’t know who it is? MRS. DE MULLIN Hugo, it’s... (Bell rings loudly.) Harriet, there’s the bell! I wonder if it’s she? Do you think it is? [_All look towards the door on the right, expectantly._ DE MULLIN _(querulously)_ Well, Jane? _Am_ I to hear who this visitor is or am I not? ELLEN _(showing in a lady leading a little boy by the hand)_ MRS. SEAGRAVE [_Enter Janet and Johnny!. Janet is a very handsome woman of six-and-thirty. She is admirably dressed, but her clothes are quiet and in excellent taste, dark in colour and plain in cut but expensive. Her hat is particularly tasteful, but also quiet. Her clothes are in marked contrast to those of her mother and sister which are of the homeliest description and were probably made in the village. Johnny is a well-grown youngster of eight in a sailor suit._ HESTER _(shocked)_ Mother! DE MULLIN Janet, my dear! _(cry of welcome)_. JANET Father! _(Drops Johnny’s hand, comes rapidly to him, falls on one knee and kisses him impulsively, patting his left hand with her right.)_ How are you? Better? _(holding out her left hand to her mother but still kneeling)_. How do you do, mother dear? _(Mrs. De Mullin takes it. Puts her other hand on Janet’s shoulder.)_ I should have come before, father, directly you sent for me. But your telegram was delayed. I was away from home. DE MULLIN _(nods)_ I see. JANET Have you been very ill, father? And did you frighten them all dreadfully? How naughty of you! DE MULLIN Silly Janet! Let me look at you, my dear. _(Looks at her face as she holds it up.)_ You’re not much changed, Janet. JANET Nor are you, father. DE MULLIN A little greyer, perhaps. JANET No! Not a hair! DE MULLIN Well, my dear, Pm glad you’ve come. We parted in anger, but that’s all over now. Forgotten and forgiven. Eh? JANET Yes. Forgotten and forgiven _(rises)_. How are _you_, Aunt Harriet? I didn’t see you. _(Eagerly)_ Hester! _[Goes to her impulsively, holding out her hand. Hester takes it coldly. Janet tries to draw her towards her. Hester resists. She drops her hand and Hester turns away.]_ DE MULLIN Who is that? _(pointing to Johnny)_. JANET (turning to him) That is Johnny. My son. DE MULLIN My grandson? JANET Yes. I _had_ to bring him, father. We were away from home and there was no one to leave him with. DE MULLIN I’m glad you brought him. Come here, Johnny. Don’t be afraid. JOHNNY _(in his confident treble)_ I’m not afraid. Why should I be afraid? _[Goes to him_. DE MULLIN _(taking his hand)_ Say “How do you do, grandfather.” JOHNNY How do you do, grandfather? DE MULLIN Will you give me a kiss, Johnny? JOHNNY If you like, grandfather. _[Kisses him._ DE MULLIN That’s a good boy. JANET Kiss your grandmother too, Johnny. _[Mrs. De Mullin snatches him up and kisses him passionately. Then holds him a little way off and looks at him admiringly._ MRS. DE MULLIN What a fine little fellow, Janet! JANET _(proudly)_ Isn’t he, mother? And so strong and healthy! He’s hardly had a day’s illness since he was born. JOHNNY _(who has been staring at the pictures on the walls, holding his grandmother by one hand)_. Who are all these old men, grandfather? DE MULLIN Your ancestors, my boy. JOHNNY What’s ancestors? DE MULLIN Your forefathers. Your mother’s forefathers, JOHNNY Is that old man in the wig an ancestor? DE MULLIN Yes. That is Anthony De Mullin, your great-great-grandfather. JOHNNY What was _he?_ DE MULLIN (puzzled) _What_ was he? I don’t know that he was anything in particular. He was just a gentleman. JOHNNY _(disappointed)_ Is that all? DE MULLIN Don’t make any mistake, my boy. It’s a great thing to be descended from gentle-people, a thing to be proud of and to be thankful for. JOHNNY Mother says the great thing is for every one to be of some use in the world. Are gentle-people of more use in the world than other people, grandfather? DE MULLIN Certainly. JOHNNY And were all these old men gentle-people? DE MULLIN All of them. And you must grow up like them. JOHNNY They’re very _ugly_, grandfather _(pause)_. What did they do? DE MULLIN They lived down here at Brendon. JOHNNY Nothing else? DE MULLIN They looked after their land. JOHNNY Had they much land? DE MULLIN A great deal. At one time the De Mullins owned all the land about here. JOHNNY How much do they own now? DE MULLIN _(sighs)_ Not very much, I’m afraid. JOHNNY Then they can’t have looked after it very well, can they, grandfather? MRS. DE MULLIN _(feeling the strain of this conversation)_ Now, Hugo, do you think you ought to talk any more? Why not go upstairs for a little and lie down? DE MULLIN Perhaps I will, Jane. I _am_ a little tired. HESTER Shall I go with father? MRS. DE MULLIN No. I will. Come, Hugo _(helps him up)_. DE MULLIN Will you come, with me, Johnny? MRS. DE MULLIN _(hastily)_ No, Hugo. He will only disturb you. Stay down here, Johnny, with your mother. Now then. Carefully. _[Leads De Mullin off by the door on the left. There is a pause, during which the remaining occupants of the room obviously have nothing in particular to say to each other. At last Mrs. Clouston speaks._ MRS. CLOUSTON Well, Janet, how have you been all these years? JANET _(nonchalantly)_ All right, Aunt Harriet. And you? MRS. CLOUSTON Pretty well, thanks. JANET Are you still living down at Bath? MRS. CLOUSTON Yes. You live in London, Jane tells me. JANET Yes. MRS. CLOUSTON What do you do there? Teach? JANET Oh no. Why should I be teaching? MRS. CLOUSTON Jane said you wanted to teach at one time. JANET That was years ago. Before I left Brendon. soon gave up that idea. No. I keep a shop. MRS. CLOUSTON A shop! JANET Yes. A hat-shop MRS. CLOUSTON Good heavens! A De Mullin in a hat-shop! JANET _(a little maliciously)_ Not a De Mullin, Aunt Harriet. A Seagrave. MRS. CLOUSTON Did Mr. Seagrave keep a hat-shop? JANET Mr. Seagrave?... oh, I see. No. It’s not a man’s hat shop. It’s a lady’s _(takes off hat)_. This is one of ours. What do you think of it, Hester? HESTER _(frostily)_ It looks very expensive. JANET _(looking at it critically)_ Yes, I own I’m rather pleased with it. MRS. CLOUSTON _(acidly)_ You seem to be able to dress very well altogether, in spite of the shop. JANET _(correcting her)_ Because of it, Aunt Harriet. That’s the advantage of being what is called “in trade.” If I were a school teacher or a governess or something genteel of that kind I could only afford to dress like a pauper. But as I keep a shop I can dress like a lady. Clothes are a question of money, after all, aren’t they? MRS. CLOUSTON _(contemptuously)_ If one is in a shop it doesn’t matter how one dresses. JANET On the contrary if one is in a shop it matters a great deal. A girl in a shop _must_ dress well. The business demands it. If you ever start a hat-shop, Aunt Harriet, you’ll have to dress very differently. Otherwise nobody will buy your hats. MRS. CLOUSTON Indeed? Fortunately I’ve no intention of starting a shop of any kind. JANET _(blandly)_ No! Well, I expect you’re wise. I doubt if you’d make a success of it. [_Loud ring heard off._ MRS. CLOUSTON _(rather flustered--gasps)_ HESTER I hope that’s not a visitor. _(Janet stares Then laughs good-humouredly. Aunt Harriet’s nervous desire to keep her out of the way of visitors strikes her as amusing.)_ What are you laughing at, Janet? JANET _(shrugs)_ Nothing, Aunt Harriet. ELLEN _(showing in)_ Miss Deanes. Mr. Brown. [_Miss Deanes is a bulky, red-faced, shortsighted woman of forty-two, very fussy and absurd in manner, who talks very fast. Brown carries a book._ MISS DEANES How do you do, Mrs. Clouston. _Such_ a piece of news! I felt I _must_ tell you. I brought Mr. Brown with me. He was just leaving a book for you, Hester, so I made him come in. [_Shakes hands with Hester._ BROWN Here it is, Miss De Mullin. It’s the one you wanted to borrow. _Blore on the Creeds_. HESTER Thank you. MISS DEANES _(seeing Janet for first time)_ Janet! Is that you? JANET Yes, Miss Deanes. How are you? [_Shakes hands._ MISS DEANES Good gracious, child, when did you come? Why, you’ve not been down to Brendon for years. JANET It is a long time, isn’t it? MISS DEANES And who is this young gentleman? [_Noticing Johnny who is holding Janet’s hand and staring at Miss Deanes._ JANET _(calmly)_ That is my son. Shake hands with Miss Deanes, Johnny. MISS DEANES _(astonished)_ Your son! There now! And I never knew you were even married! JANET _(quite at her ease)_ Didn’t you! MISS DEANES No. MRS. CLOUSTON _(nervously)_ I forgot. I haven’t introduced you. Mr. Brown--Mrs. Seagrave. BROWN _(bows)_ How do you do. MRS. CLOUSTON _(turning to Miss Deanes again)_ And now what is your piece of news, Miss Deanes? MISS DEANES _(volubly)_ Oh yes. I _must_ tell you. You’d never guess. Somebody _else_ is engaged to be married, _(to Janet)_ Who do you think? JANET I’ve no idea. MISS DEANES Bertha Aldenham--to Mr. Bulstead. JANET _(starts)_ Mr. Bulstead? MISS DEANES Yes. But I forgot. _You_ wouldn’t know _them_. They didn’t come here till long after you went away. They bought Brendon Park from the Malcolms three years ago. You remember the Malcolms, Janet? Janet _(whose attention has wandered)_ Eh? Oh yes, of course. MRS. CLOUSTON Which Mr. Bulstead is it? The eldest? MISS DEANES Yes. Montague. JANET _(under her breath)_ Monty Bulstead! Engaged! MRS. CLOUSTON Are the Aldenhams pleased? MISS DEANES Very, I expect. The Bulsteads are so rich, you see. JANET Does he live down here; this Mr. Montagu Bulstead, I mean? MISS DEANES Oh no. He’s here on leave. He’s in the army. He only got back three months ago _(with a little giggle)_. He and Bertha haven’t taken long to settle things, have they? JANET No, they haven’t taken long. MISS DEANES But I dare say he _will_ live here when he’s married. As the Bulsteads are so rich.- The father makes frilling and lace and so on. All those things people used to make so much better by hand. And Bertha may not care about army life. I know I shouldn’t. _(Janet smiles discreetly.)_ It’s not always very _nice_, is it? BROWN _(to Johnny who has been staring at him roundeyed across the room, with heavy geniality)_. Well, young man. Who are you staring at, eh? Do _you_ want to talk to me? JOHNNY _(quite simply, in his high piping treble)_ No, thank you. JANET Sh! Johnny! You don’t mean that. Go to Mr. Brown when he speaks to you. JOHNNY Very well, Mummie. _[Does so slowly_. BROWN _(taking his hands)_ Now then what shall we talk about, you and I? JOHNNY I don’t know. BROWN Don’t you? Suppose we see if you can say your catechism then? Would you like _that_? JOHNNY What’s catechism? BROWN Come, Johnny, I’m sure your mother has taught you your catechism.. Can you repeat your “Duty towards your Neighbour”? _(Johnny shakes his head emphatically)_. Try “My duty towards my neighbour.... JOHNNY Mother says it’s every one’s duty to be healthy and to be happy! Is that what you mean? BROWN _(scandalized)_ No! No! JOHNNY Well, that’s what mother taught me. JANET _(coming to the rescue)_ I’m afraid he doesn’t know his catechism yet, Mr. Brown. You see he’s only eight. _(Brown bows stiffly.)_ Run away, Johnny, and play in the garden for a little. _[Leads him to the door in the bay._ JOHNNY All right, Mummie. _[Johnny runs out into the garden. A certain relief is perceptible on his departure. It is felt that his interview with Mr. Brown has not been a success._... MISS DEANES _(who feels that a change of subject will be only tactful)_ There now, Hester! I do believe you’ve never asked after Dicky! He’ll be so offended! HESTER _(smiling)_ Has Dicky been ill again? I thought you said he was better yesterday. MISS DEANES He was. But he had a relapse, poor _darling_. I had to sit up all last night with him! JANET What has been the matter with him? MISS DEANES Some sort of chill, Dr. Rolt said. I was _dreadfully_ anxious. JANET What a pity! ‘Colds are such troublesome things for children. MISS DEANES (puzzled) Children? JANET Yes. You were speaking of a child, weren’t you? Miss Deanes Oh no. Dicky is my _cockatoo_. He’s the _sweetest_ bird. Talks quite like a human being. And never a coarse expression. That’s so unusual with cockatoos. JANET Indeed? MISS DEANES Yes. The voyage, you see. They come all the way from South America and generally they pick up the most dreadful language, poor lambs--from the sailors. But Dicky didn’t. He has such a pure mind _(rising)_. And now I really must be going. I have all kinds of people I want to tell about Mr. Bulstead’s engagement. _[Shaking hands with Mrs. Clouston and Janet._ BROWN I must be off too. Wait one moment, Miss Deanes. Good-bye, Mrs. Clouston. _[Shakes hands with Mrs. Clouston and bows stiffly to Janet. He has not yet forgiven Johnny for not knowing his catechism._ _(To Hester.)_ Good-bye, Miss De Mullin. Shall I see you at Evensong? _[Shakes hands with Hester._ I expect so. HESTER Poof! _[Brown and Miss Deanes go out._ JANET What a fool Miss Deanes is! MRS CLOUSTON _(indifferently)_ She always was, wasn’t she? JANET I suppose so. Going on in that way about her ridiculous cockatoo! And that _hideous_ little curate! HESTER I don’t see why you should sneer at all my friends. JANET Are they your friends, Hester? Then I won’t sneer at them. But you can’t call Mr. Brown _handsome_, can you? HESTER Mr. Brown is a very good man and works very hard among the poor. That’s better than being handsome. JANET Yes. But less agreeable, isn’t it? However, if _you_ like him there’s an end of it. But he needn’t have begun asking Johnny his catechism the very first time he met him. I don’t call it good manners, HESTER How was he to know the poor child was being brought up to be a little heathen? _[Takes up her hat and cape and begins putting them on._ JANET _(shrugs)_ How, indeed! MRS. CLOUSTON Are you going out, Hester? Lunch will be ready in half an hour. . HESTER Only to take Mrs. Wason her soup, Aunt Harriet. JANET _(looking curiously at Hester)_ Do you want to marry Mr. Brown, Hester? MRS. CLOUSTON My dear Janet! JANET Well, Aunt Harriet, there’s nothing to be ashamed of if she does. Do you, Hester? HESTER Why do you ask such a question? JANET Never mind. Only answer it _(pause)_. You do like him, don’t you? HESTER I’ve a great respect for Mr. Brown. JANET Don’t blush, my dear. I dare say that’s much the same thing. HESTER I won’t talk to you about it. You only sneer. Janet I wasn’t sneering. Come, Hester, don’t be cross. Why shouldn’t we be friends? I might help you. HESTER How could _you_ help me? JANET _(looking quizzically at poor Hester’s headgear)_ I might make you a hat, my dear. HESTER Mr. Brown doesn’t notice those things. JANET All men notice those things, Hester. HESTER _(with a sneer)_ I suppose that’s why _you_ wear such fine clothes. JANET _(quite good-humoured)_ That’s it. Fine feathers make fine birds. HESTER Well, _I_ call it shameless. JANET My dear Hester, you’re always being ashamed of things. You always were, I remember. What is there to be ashamed of in that? What on earth were women given pretty faces and pretty figures for if not to make men admire them and want to marry them? HESTER _(acidly)_ Well, _your_ plan hasn’t been very successful so far, anyhow! JANET _(quietly)_ Nor has yours, Hester. [_Hester makes exclamation of impatience and seems about to reply angrily. Then thinks better of it and goes out without a word. Janet follows her retreat with her eyes and smiles half cynically, half compassionately. The Curtain falls._ ACT II _Scene:_ On the edge of Brendon Forest. _Time:_ three days later. A road runs along the hack of the stage front which it is separated by a fence and high hedge. In this hut somewhat to the right is a stile and also a gate. Round the trunk of a large tree to the left is a rough wooden seat. The stage is empty when the curtain rises. Fhen enter Mrs. De Mullin, Janet and Johnny. They approach stile from the left and come through gate. There isan exit on the right of the stage through the Forest. JANET I don’t think I’ll come any farther, mother. MRS. DE MULLIN You won’t come up to the house? JANET No, thanks _(rather grimly)_. I don’t want to see Mrs. Bulstead. And I’m sure Mrs. Bulstead doesn’t want to see me. MRS. DE MULLIN I wish Hester could have come. JANET Why couldn’t she? MRS. DE MULLIN She’s at the church putting up the decorations. It’s the Harvest Thanksgiving to-morrow. JANET _(laughing)_ Mr. Brown! MRS. DE MULLIN Janet, I told you you weren’t to laugh at Hester about Mr. Brown. It’s not kind. JANET _(lightly)_ It’s all right mother. Hester’s not here. MRS. DE MULLIN Still, I don’t like it, dear. It’s not quite... JANET _(soothing her)_ Not quite _nice_. I know, mother. Not the way really refined and ladylike young women talk. But I’m only quite a common person who sells hats. You can’t expect all these refinements from _me!_ [_Mrs. De Mullin sighs._ MRS. DE MULLIN Are you going to turn back? JANET Not at once. I’ll wait for you here a little with Johnny in case they’re out. Why, they’ve put a seat here. [_She sits on the side farthest from the road._ MRS. DE MULLIN Usen’t there to be one? JANET No. Nor a gate in my time. Only a stile. MRS. DE MULLIN Very likely, dear. I don’t remember. I don’t often come this way. JANET _(nods)_ I often used to come along it in the old days. MRS. DE MULLIN I dare say. Well, I must be getting on to my call or I shall be late. You’re sure you won’t come? JANET Quite, mother. Good-bye. [_Mrs. De Mullin goes of through the forest._ JOHNNY Where’s grandmother going, Mummie? JANET Up to the big house. JOHNNY What big house? JANET Brendon Park. JOHNNY Mayn’t I go up to the big house too? JANET No, dear. You’re to stay with mother. JOHNNY Who lives at the big house? JANET Nobody you know, dear. JOHNNY That’s why I asked, Mummie. JANET Well, don’t ask any more, sonny. Mother’s rather tired. Run away and play, there’s a good boy. _[Kisses him._ JOHNNY Very well, Mummie. _[Johnny disappears into the wood. Janet falls into a brown study. Presently a footstep is heard coming along the roady but she seems to notice nothing. Then a young man climbs over the stile. He starts as he sees her and draws back, then advances eagerly, holding out his hand._ MONTY Janet, is that _you!_ JANET _(smiling)_ Yes, Monty. MONTY _(astonished)_ JANET! Here! JANET Yes, Monty. MONTY _(nodding over his shoulder)_ _Our_ stile, Janet! JANET Our stile. MONTY _(nods)_ The stile where you and I first met. JANET _(relapsing for a moment into something like sentiment)_ Yes. I thought I must see it again--for the sake of old times. MONTY How long ago it all seems! JANET _(matter of fact)_ It is a longish time, you know. MONTY _(thoughtfully)_ I believe that was the happiest month of my life, Janet. JANET Was it, Monty? MONTY Yes _(pause)_. I say, when did you come down? You don’t _live_ at home any longer, do you? JANET No. I only came down three days ago. MONTY By Jove it _is_ good to see you again. Why, it’s eight years since we used to be together, you and I. JANET Nearly nine. MONTY Yes... You’re not coming to live down here again, are you? JANET No; why? MONTY I thought perhaps... JANET _(cynically)_ Would you dislike it very much if I did, Monty? MONTY Of course not. JANET Confess. You _did_ feel it would be rather awkward? MONTY Well, of course... JANET However you can set your mind at rest. I’m not. [_His relief at this intelligence enables him to realize the pleasure he is getting from seeing her again._) MONTY I say, Janet, how well you’re looking! I believe you’re handsomer than ever. JANET (smiling) Am I? MONTY You know you are. [_Pause. He looks at her admiringly. She turns away with a little smile._ JANET _(feeling that they are getting on to dangerous ground)_ Well, Monty. Where have you been these eight years? MONTY Abroad with my regiment. We’ve been ordered all over the place. I’ve been home on leave, of course. But not for the last three years. Not since father bought the Park. I’ve never been at Brendon since ... _(pause)_. JANET Since we were here? Don’t blush, Monty. _(He nods shamefacedly.)_ How did he come to buy the place? MONTY It was just a chance. He saw it advertised, came and looked at it and bought it. He’s no idea I was ever at Brendon before _(rather bitter laugh)_. None of them have. I have to pretend not to know my way about. JANET Why? MONTY It seems safer. _(Janet nods.)_ Sometimes I almost forget to keep it up. I’m such a duffer about things. But I’ve managed hitherto. And now, of course, it’s all right as I’ve been here three months. I may be supposed to know the beastly place by this time. JANET Beastly? You’re not very polite. [_Monty laughs shamefacedly_. MONTY You got my note, didn’t you? JANET What note?... Oh, eight years ago, you mean? Yes. MONTY I left it with the woman at the lodgings. As you were coming over that afternoon, I thought it safer than sending a message. And of course I daren’t telegraph. _(Janet nods.)_ I was awfully sick at having to go away like that. All in a moment. Without even saying good-bye. But I had to. JANET Of course. Was your mother badly hurt? MONTY No. Only stunned. That was such rot. If people get chucked out of a carriage they must expect to get stunned. But of course they couldn’t know. The telegram just said “Mother hurt. Carriage accident. Come at once.” It got to me at the lodgings a couple of hours before you were coming. I had just time to chuck my things into a bag and catch the train. I wanted to come back after the mater was all right again. But I couldn’t very well, could I? JANET Why not? MONTY Well, the regiment was to sail in less than three weeks and the mater would have thought it rather rough if I’d gone away again. I’d been away six weeks as it was. JANET Oh yes. Of course. MONTY _(with half a sigh)_ To think if I hadn’t happened to be riding along that road and seen you at the stile and asked my way, you and I might never have met. What a chance life is! JANET _(nods)_ Just a chance _(pause)_. MONTY Why did you go away, Janet? You weren’t going the last time I saw you. JANET Wasn’t I? MONTY No. At least you said nothing about it. JANET I didn’t know I was going then. Not for certain. MONTY Why _did_ you go? JANET _(quietly)_ I had to, Monty. MONTY _(puzzled)_ You had to? _(Janet nods.)_But why? Mother found out. MONTY About us? JANET Yes. And she told father. MONTY _(genuinely distressed)_ Oh, Janet! I’m so sorry. JANET _(shrugs)_ It couldn’t be helped, MONTY Does he know who it was? JANET Who _you_ were? No. MONTY You didn’t tell him? JANET MONTY! As if I should. MONTY I don’t know. Girls generally do. JANET _I_ didn’t. MONTY No. I suppose you wouldn’t. But you’re different from most girls. Do you know there was always something rather splendid about you, Janet? JANET (curtseys) Thank you. MONTY I wonder he didn’t _make_ you tell. JANET He did try of course. That was why I ran away. MONTY I see. Where did you go to? JANET London. MONTY To London? All alone? (Janet nods) Why did you do that? And why didn’t you let me know? JANET _(shrugs)_ You were out of England by that time. MONTY But why London? JANET I had to go somewhere. And it seemed better to go where I shouldn’t be known. Besides it’s easier to be lost sight of in a crowd. MONTY But what did you do when you got there? JANET _(calmly)_ I got a place in a shop, Monty. MONTY A shop? You! JANET Yes, a hat-shop, in Regent Street. My dear Monty, don’t gape like that. Hat-shops are perfectly respectable places. Almost too respectable to judge by the fuss two of them made about employing _me_. MONTY What do you mean? JANET Well, when I applied to them for work they naturally asked if I had ever worked in a hat-shop before. And when I said “No” they naturally asked why I wanted to begin. In the innocence of my heart I told them. Whereupon they at once refused to employ me--not in the politest terms. MONTY Poor Janet. What beastly luck! Still... [_Hesitates._ JANET Yes, Monty? MONTY I mean naturally they couldn’t be expected... _(flustered)_ At least I don’t mean that exactly. Only... [_Stops._ JANET My dear Monty, I quite understand what you mean. You needn’t trouble to be explicit. Naturally they couldn’t be expected to employ an abandoned person like me to trim hats. That was exactly their view. MONTY But I thought you said you _did_ get a place in a shop? Janet Yes. But not at either of _those_ shops. They were _far_ too virtuous. MONTY How did you do it? JANET Told lies, Monty. I believe that’s how most women get employment. MONTY Told lies? JANET Yes. I invented a husband, recently deceased, bought several yards of crêpe and a wedding ring. This is the ring. [_Takes off glove._ MONTY Oh, Janet, how beastly for you! [_Janet shrugs_. JANET _(laughing)_ Everything seems to be “Beastly” to you, Monty. Brendon and telling lies and lots of other things. Luckily I’m less superfine. MONTY Didn’t they find out? JANET No. That was why I decided to be a widow. It made inquiries more difficult. MONTY I should have thought it made them easier. JANET On the contrary. You can’t cross-question a widow about a recent bereavement. If you do she cries. I always used to look tearful directly my husband’s name was even mentioned. So they gave up mentioning it. Women are so boring when they will cry. MONTY They might have inquired from other people. JANET Why should they? Besides there was no one to inquire from. I called him Seagrave--and drowned him at sea. You can’t ask questions of the sharks. MONTY Oh, Janet, how can you joke about it? JANET I couldn’t--then. I wanted work-too badly. But I can now--with your kind permission, I mean. MONTY And you’ve been at the shop ever since? JANET Not _that_ shop. I was only there about six months --till baby was born, in fact... MONTY _(horrified)_ Janet, there was a baby! JANET Of course there was a baby. MONTY Oh, Janet! And you never wrote! Why didn’t you write? JANET I did think of it. But on the whole I thought I wouldn’t. It would have been no good. MONTY No good? JANET You were in India. MONTY I was in England. JANET Not then. MONTY You ought to have written at once--directly your mother found out. JANET One week after you sailed, Monty _(defiantly)_. Besides why should I write? MONTY Why? I could have married you, of course. JANET If I’d asked you, you mean? Thank you, my dear Monty. MONTY No, I don’t. Of course I should have married you. I _must_ have married you. JANET _(looking at him thoughtfully)_ I wonder if you would. MONTY Certainly I should. I should have been bound in honour. JANET I see. Then I’m glad I never wrote. MONTY You’re _glad?_ Now? JANET Yes. I’ve done some foolish things in my life, Monty, but none quite so foolish as that. To marry a schoolboy, not because he loves you or wants to marry you but because he thinks he’s “bound in honour.” No, thank you. MONTY I don’t mean that. You know I don’t, Janet. I loved you, of course. That goes without saying. I’d have married you like a shot before, only the Governor would have made such a fuss. The Governor was so awfully straitlaced about this sort of thing. When I was sent away from Eton he made the most ghastly fuss. JANET Were you sent away from Eton for “this sort of thing”? MONTY Yes--at least I don’t mean that either. But it was about a girl there. He was frightfully wild. He threatened to cut me off if I ever did such a thing again. Such rot! As if no one had ever been sent away from school before! JANET _(reflectively)_ I didn’t know you’d been sent away from Eton. MONTY Didn’t you? I suppose I didn’t like to tell you-for fear of what you’d think _(bitterly)_. I seem to have been afraid of everything in those days. . JANET Not _everything_, Monty. MONTY Oh, you know what I mean. I was awfully afraid of the Governor, I remember. I suppose all boys are if their parents rag them too much. But I would have married you, Janet, if I’d known. I would honestly. JANET _(blandly)_ What is the pay of a British subaltern, Monty? MONTY The Governor would have had to stump up, of course. JANET Poor Mr. Bulstead! He’d have _liked_ that, I suppose? And what about your poor unhappy colonel? And all the other little subalterns? MONTY _(obstinately)_ Still, you ought to have written. JANET _(quietly)_ _You_ never wrote. MONTY I couldn’t. You know that. You never would let me. That was why I couldn’t send that note to you to tell you I was going away. You said my letters would be noticed. JANET Yes, I forgot that. That’s the result of having a father who is what is called old-fashioned. MONTY What do you mean? JANET All letters to the Manor House are delivered locked in a bag. They always have been since the Flood, I believe, or at least since the invention of the postal service. And, of course, father won’t have it altered, So every morning there’s the ritual of unlocking this absurd bag. No one is allowed to do that but father--unless he is ill. Then mother has the privilege. And of course he. scrutinizes the outside of every letter and directly it’s opened asks who it’s from and what’s inside it. Your letters would have been noticed at once. MONTY How beastly! JANET The penalty of having nothing to do, Monty. MONTY I know. What a mess the whole thing is! JANET Just so. No. There was no way out of it except the hat-shop. MONTY _(remorsefully)_ It’s awfully rough on you, Janet. JANET Never mind. I dare say I wasn’t cut out for the wife of a subaltern, Monty; whereas I make excellent hats. MONTY _(savagely)_ You’re still making the d------d things? JANET Yes. Only at another shop. The Regent Street place had no room for me when I was well enough to go back to work. But the woman who kept it gave me a recommendation to a friend who was starting in Hanover Street. A most superior quarter for a hatshop, Monty. In fact _the_ superior quarter. Claude et Cie was the name. (Monty _(rather shocked)_ A _French_ shop? JANET No more French than you are, Monty. It was kept by a Miss Hicks, one of the most thoroughly British people you can possibly imagine. But we called ourselves Claude et Cie in order to be able to charge people more for their hats. You can always charge fashionable women more for their clothes if you pretend to be French. It’s one of the imbecilities of commerce. So poor dear Miss Hicks became Madame Claude and none of our hats cost less than seven guineas. MONTY Do people buy hats at such a price? JANET Oh yes. Everybody in Society bought them. Claude et Cie was quite the rage that Season. Nobody who was anybody went anywhere else. MONTY She must have made a great deal of money. JANET On the contrary. She made nothing at all and narrowly escaped bankruptcy. MONTY But I don’t understand. If her hats were so dear and everybody bought them? JANET Everybody _bought_ them but nobody _paid_ for them. In the highest social circles I believe people never do pay for anything--certainly not for their clothes. At least, nobody paid Miss Hicks, and at the end of six months she was owed £1,200 and hadn’t a penny to pay her rent. MONTY Why didn’t she _make_ them pay. JANET She did dun them, of course, but they only ordered more hats to keep her quiet which didn’t help Miss Hicks much. And when she went on dunning them they said they should withdraw their custom. In fact, she was in a dilemma. If she let the bills run on she couldn’t pay her rent. And if she asked her customers to pay their bills they ceased to be customers. MONTY How beastly! JANET Not again, Monty! MONTY What _did_ she do? JANET She didn’t do anything. She was too depressed. She used to sit in the back room where the hats were trimmed and weep over the materials, regardless of expense. Finally things came to a crisis. The landlord threatened to distrain for his rent. But just as it looked as if it was all over with Claude et Cie a capitalist came to the rescue. _I_ was the capitalist. MONTY You? JANET Yes. I’d an old Aunt once who was fond of me and left me a legacy when I was seventeen. Four hundred pounds. MONTY That wouldn’t go very far. JANET Four hundred pounds goes a longish way towards setting up a shop. Besides, it was nearly five hundred by that time. My shares had gone up. Well, I and my five hundred pounds came to the rescue. I paid the rent and the most clamorous of the creditors, and Miss Hicks and I became partners. MONTY But what was the good of that if the business was worth nothing? JANET It was worth several hundred pounds to any one, who had the pluck to sue half the British aristocracy. I sued them. It was tremendous fun. They were simply furious. They talked as if they’d never been sued before! As for Miss Hicks she wept more than ever and said I’d ruined the business. MONTY Hadn’t you? JANET That business. Yes. But with the £1,200--or as much of it as we could recover--we started a new one. A cheap hat-shop. Relatively cheap that is-for Hanover Street. We charged two guineas a hat instead of seven, 100 per cent, profit instead of... You can work it out for yourself. But then our terms were strictly cash, so we made no bad debts. That was my idea. MONTY But you said nobody ever paid for their hats. JANET Not in the highest social circles. But we drew our customers from the middle classes who live in South Kensington and Bayswater, and are not too haughty to pay for a hat if they see a cheap one. MONTY But wasn’t it a frightful risk? JANET _(cheerfully)_ It was a risk, of course. But everything in life is a risk, isn’t it? And it succeeded, as I felt sure it would. We’re quite a prosperous concern nowadays, and I go over to Paris four times a year to see the latest fashions. That, my dear Monty, is the history of Claude et Cie. [_Pause._ MONTY And you’ve never married, Janet? JANET No. MONTY {hesitates) Is it because...? JANET Because? MONTY Because you still care for me? JANET Monty, don’t be vain. MONTY _(repelled)_ I didn’t mean it like that. Janet, don’t laugh. Of course, I’m glad if you don’t care any more. At least, I suppose I ought to be glad. It would have been dreadful if you had gone on caring all these years and I not known. But did you? JANET No, Monty, I didn’t. You may set your mind at rest. MONTY You’re sure? JANET Quite. I had too many other things to think of. MONTY Do you mean that beastly shop? JANET _(quietly)_ I meant my baby. MONTY _Our_ baby. Is it alive? JANET Of course. What do you mean, Monty? MONTY I thought, as you didn’t say... _(thoughtfully)_ Poor little beast! _(Janet makes gesture of protest.)_ Well, it’s rough luck on the little beggar, isn’t it? What’s become of him, Janet? JANET What’s _become_ of him! My dear Monty, what should have become of him? He’s quite alive as I said and particularly thriving. MONTY Do you mean he’s _living_ with you!.. But, of course, I forgot, you’re supposed to be married. JANET _(correcting him)_ A widow, Monty. An inconsolable widow! MONTY Where is he? In London? JANET No. As a matter of fact he’s probably not fifty yards away. Over there. [_Points towards the wood._ MONTY _(jumping up)_ Janet! _(nervously looking round)_. JANET _(rallying him)_ Frightened, Monty? MONTY Of course not _(shamefacedly)_ JANET Just a little? MONTY _(regaining courage)_ Janet, let me see him. JANET _(amused)_ Would you like to? MONTY Of course I should. He’s _my_ baby as well as yours if it comes to that. Do call him, Janet. JANET All right, _(calls)_ Johnny! _(pause)_ John... ny! _[‘To Monty)_ You mustn’t tell him, you know. MONTY Of course not. JOHNNY _(off r.)_ Yes, Mummie. JANET Come here for a minute. Mother wants to speak to you. JOHNNY _(off)_ Very well, Mummie. _(Enters r.)_ Oh, Mummie, I’ve found such a lot of rabbits. You must come and see them. _(Seeing Monty for the first time, stares at him.)_ Oh! MONTY Come here, youngster. Come and let me look at you. _(Johnny goes to him slowly. Monty, grasping both hands, draws him to him, looking at him long and keenly.)_ He’s like you, Janet. JANET Is he? MONTY Yes. He has your eyes. So your name’s Johnny, young man? JOHNNY Yes. MONTY Well, Johnny, will you give me a kiss? _(Monty leans forward. He does so.)_ That’s right. JOHNNY And now, Mummie, come and look at my rabbits. JANET Not yet, dear. Mother’s busy just now. JOHNNY May I go back to them then? JANET Yes. MONTY Suppose I won’t let you go? JOHNNY I’ll make you--and so will Mummie. MONTY Plucky little chap. Off with you. [_Kisses him again, then releases his hands. Johnny trots off r. again. Monty follows him with his eyes. Pause._ JANET Well, Monty, what do you think of him? MONTY _(enthusiastic)_ I think he’s _splendid_. JANET _(proudly)_ Isn’t he? And such a sturdy little boy. He weighed ten pounds before he was a month old. I say, Janet. MONTY _(shyly)_ JANET Yes? MONTY _(hesitates)_ You’ll let me kiss you once more, won’t you? For the last time?... _(she hesitates)_. You don’t mind? JANET _(heartily)_ . Of course not, Monty. You’re not _married_ yet, you know. MONTY JANET! My dear, dear Janet! [_Seizes her and kisses her fiercely._ JANET _(releasing herself gently)_ That’s enough, Monty. MONTY _(remorsefully)_ I’m afraid I behaved like an awful brute to you, Janet. JANET _(lightly)_ Oh no. MONTY Yes, I did. I ought to have married you. I ought to marry you still. On account of the boy. JANET _(quite matter of fact)_ Oh well, you can’t do that now in any case, can you --as you’re engaged to Bertha Aldenham. MONTY You’ve heard about that? Who told you? JANET A worthy lady called Miss Deanes. MONTY I know. A regular sickener. JANET My dear Monty! MONTY Sorry. JANET She brought the good news. The very day I arrived as it happened. We’ve hardly talked of anything else at the Manor House since--except father’s illness, of course. MONTY Why? JANET What else is there to talk about--in Brendon? MONTY That’s true. Isn’t it... _(stops himself, looks at watch. Whistles.)_ Whew! [_Rises._ JANET What is it, Monty? MONTY I say, Janet, I wonder if you’d mind going now? Why? JANET [_She rises too._ MONTY _(awkwardly)_ Well, the fact is I’m expecting some one here directly. I... JANET Bertha? MONTY Yes. I was to meet her here at the stile at six. JANET _Our_ stile, Monty. MONTY Yes,... You don’t mind, do you--about my asking you to go, I mean? JANET _(sitting again)_ Not in the least. MONTY But you’re not going? JANET Why should I go? MONTY Oh, well, I thought----- JANET That it wouldn’t be quite suitable for us to meet? MONTY I didn’t mean that, of course. But I thought you mightn’t like--I mean it might be painful... [_Sits again._ JANET For me to see her? On the contrary, I’m dying to see her. MONTY Janet, sometimes I think you’re not quite human. JANET My dear boy, I’m extremely human--and therefore curious _(pause)_. What’s she like, Monty? Now, I mean. She promised to be pretty. MONTY She is pretty, I suppose _(pause)_. I wonder if Bertha and I will ever have a son like Johnny! JANET Let’s hope so, Monty. For Bertha’s sake. MONTY Isn’t that some one coming? _(pause, listens)_, I expect it’s she _(rising hastily and advancing towards stile)_. Is that you, Bertha? BERTHA _(at stile)_ Oh! There you are. Yes. Isn’t it hot? _(entering by gate which he opens for her)_. Am I punctual? _(with a cry)_ Janet! When did you come home? [_Goes to her eagerly._ JANET _(shaking hands)_ Only three days ago. [_Bertha kisses her._ BERTHA _Only_ three days! And you’ve never been up to see us. JANET I know. But with father ill BERTHA Of course. I understand. I was only joking. How is Mr. De Mullin? JANET Much better. Not well yet, of course. But he gets stronger every day. BERTHA I’m so glad. I say, Janet, do you remember when you used to teach us French? JANET Yes. BERTHA I was awfully troublesome, I remember. MONTY I expect you were an awful duffer at it too, Bertha. BERTHA What cheek! MONTY Wasn’t she, Ja--_(pulls himself up)_ Miss De Mullin? [_Janet smiles nervously._ Oh, yes. BERTHA I didn’t know you’d met Janet, Monty? Why didn’t you tell us? [_Quite unsuspicious of anything wrong. Merely curious._ MONTY It was some time ago. BERTHA _(surprised)_ Not at Brendon? You’ve never been at Brendon before. MONTY No. It was at Weymouth. I was there getting over typhoid years ago. BERTHA I remember, you told me. Eight or nine years ago, wasn’t it? MONTY Yes _(looks at watch)_. I say, Bertha, we must be off if we’re not to be late. BERTHA Give me two minutes to rest. The weather’s simply stifling. MONTY Rot! It’s quite cool. BERTHA Then you must have been sitting here a long time. I’ve been walking along a dusty road and I’m not going to start yet. Besides I want to know all about you two meeting. Were you staying at Weymouth, Janet? JANET Oh no. I just bicycled over. Mr. Bulstead ran into me. MONTY I like that. She ran into _me_. JANET Anyhow my front wheel buckled and he had to help me to put it right. BERTHA What gallantry! MONTY It was. The beastly thing took about half an hour. By the time it was over we seemed to have known each other for a lifetime _(looks at watch)_. Two minutes is up. Time to start, Bertha. BERTHA It isn’t. MONTY It is. You’ll be late for dressing to a certainty if you don’t go. BERTHA I like that. I can dress as quickly as you if it comes to that. MONTY Oh no. I can dress in ten minutes. I’ll give you a quarter of an hour’s start and be down in the drawing-room five minutes before you’re ready. Is it a bet? BERTHA Done. In sixpences. _(To Janet)_ I’m staying at the Park for a few days longer, Janet. Come up and see me, won’t you? JANET _(uncomfortably)_ I’m afraid I can’t promise. On account of father. BERTHA Well, after I’ve gone home then. Mother will want to see you. And so will Helen. And now I suppose I really must go. Come along, Monty. MONTY Not I. I needn’t go for a quarter of an hour. You have a quarter of an hour’s start. BERTHA All right. Good-bye, Janet _(kisses her)_. You won’t forget about coming as soon as you can? I go back home on Thursday. JANET I won’t forget. Good-bye. [_Bertha goes off through the wood. Janet watches her go and there is a pause._) Yes, she _is_ pretty, Monty. Very pretty. MONTY _(nods)_ You don’t mind? JANET Her being pretty? Of course not. It’s a justification. MONTY A justification? JANET For forgetting me MONTY _(impulsively, seizing her hands)_ Janet, I’ve never done that. You know I haven’t. JANET _(drawing back)_ No, Monty. Not again. [_Pause._ MONTY I say, I as nearly as possible called you Janet right out before Bertha. JANET So I saw. You _did_ call me Miss De Mullin, by the way,--which wasn’t very clever of you. MONTY Did I? What an ass I am! But I don’t suppose she noticed. JANET I dare say not. _(A shrill cry comes from the wood on the right. Then silence. Janet starts up.)_ What was that? MONTY I don’t know. JANET It sounded like a child. Where did it come from? Over here, didn’t it? MONTY I think so. JANET _(alarmed)_ I hope Johnny... I must go and see... _(A moment later Johnny runs in, sobbing, followed by Mrs. De Mullin and Bertha.)_ Johnny! What is it, my sweetheart? [_Runs to him._ JOHNNY Oh, Mummie, Mummie, I was running after the rabbits and I tripped over some nettles and they stung me. MRS. DE MULLIN He put his foot in a hole, Janet. He fell just as I met Bertha _(shakes hands with Monty)_. How do you do Mr. Bulstead. JANET There! There! my pet. Did it hurt very much? Mother shall kiss it and make it well. JOHNNY (sobs) Oh-h-h--- [_Does so._ BERTHA Is he your son? JANET Yes. Don’t cry any more, dear. Brave boys don’t cry, you know. JOHNNY _(gasps)_ It h-hurts so. JANET I know. But crying won’t make it hurt less, will it? So you must dry your eyes. Come now. JOHNNY All right, Mummie. [_Stills sobs gradually._ BERTHA _(astonished)_ I’d no idea you were married, Janet. JANET Hadn’t you? BERTHA No. When was it? JANET Eight years ago. Nearly nine. To Mr. Seagrave. BERTHA Is he down here with you? JANET No. My husband died soon after our marriage. BERTHA Poor Janet. I’m so sorry _(pause)_. And it was before your marriage that Monty met you? JANET How do you know? BERTHA _(quite unsuspicious)_ He called you Miss De Mullin. JANET Of course. MRS. DE MULLIN _(pricking up her ears suspiciously at this.)_ I didn’t know you had met my daughter before, Mr. Bulstead. BERTHA Nor did I. They met down at Weymouth quite by chance eight or nine years ago. MRS. DE MULLIN _(gravely)_ Indeed? MONTY Yes... I say, Bertha, excuse my interrupting you. but we really must be off now if we’re not to be late. BERTHA You want to win that bet! MONTY The bet’s off. There’s no time to give you any start. I must come too or I shan’t be in time myself and the Governor will simply curse. BERTHA Is Mr. Bulstead _very_ fierce if people are late for dinner? MONTY Simply beastly. BERTHA How very unpleasant! I wonder if I’m wise to marry into the family? [_Shaking hands merrily with Mrs. DeMullin and Janet. Then goes off r., laughing merrily._ MONTY _(sardonically)_ I wonder _(shakes hands with Mrs. De Mullin and Janet)_. Will you give me a kiss, old chap? [_To Johnny._ JOHNNY That’s three times. [_Monty nods._ [_Monty follows Bertha off r. A long pause. Mrs. De Mullin looks fixedly at Janet. Janet looks at the ground._ MRS. DE MULLIN _(slowly)_ Mr. Montague Bulstead seems unusually fond of children, Janet. JANET Does he, mother? [_She does not look up._ MRS. DE MULLIN Yes. Johnny is rather old to be kissed by strangers. JANET I supposed he kissed him because he was brave about being stung. MRS. DE MULLIN He seems to have kissed him before. Twice. JANET I dare say. I didn’t notice. MRS. DE MULLIN Johnny did, apparently. JANET Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, does it? _(Looks up defiantly. Meets her mother’s eyes full on her)_ Why do you look at me like that, mother? MRS. DE MULLIN Send Johnny away for a little, Janet. I want to speak to you. JANET I’d rather not, mother. He might hurt himself again. MRS. DE MULLIN He will be quite safe. Run away, Johnny. But don’t go too far. JOHNNY All right, grandmother. [_Johnny trots off into the wood. Pause._ JANET _(defiantly)_ Well, mother? MRS. DE MULLIN Janet, why did you never tell us you had met Mr. Bulstead before? JANET When? MRS. DE MULLIN Any time during the last three days, when we were speaking of his engagement. JANET I’d forgotten all about it, mother. MRS. DE MULLIN Indeed? And why didn’t you tell us eight years ago, when you met him at Weymouth, when you were still “Miss De Mullin”? JANET Mother, don’t badger me like this. If you want to ask me anything ask it. MRS. DE MULLIN Janet, Mr. Bulstead is Johnny’s father. JANET Mr. Bulstead? Absurd! MRS. DE MULLIN Then why did you pretend not to have met him? Why did you conceal the fact of your meeting him from us eight years ago? And why has he concealed the fact from Bertha and the Bulsteads? [_Pause._ JANET _(resignedly)_ Very well, mother, if you’re determined to know you must know. Yes, he’s Johnny’s father. MRS. DE MULLIN Oh, Janet! JANET _(irritably)_ Well, mother, if you didn’t want to know you shouldn’t have asked. I told you not to worry me. _(Mrs. De Mullin begins to cry. Remorsefully,)_ There, there, mother! Don’t cry. I’m sorry I was cross to you. Don’t let’s talk any more about it. MRS. DE MULLIN _(snuffling)_ No, Janet, we _must_ talk about it. There’s no use trying to hide things any longer. You must tell me the truth. JANET Much better not, mother. It won’t give you any pleasure to hear. MRS. DE MULLIN Still, I’d rather know, Janet. JANET _(shrugs)_ As you please. What do you want me to tell you? Mrs. De Mullin Everything. How did you come to be at Weymouth? I don’t remember your staying at Weymouth eight years ago. JANET I wasn’t staying there. But Monty was. MRS. DE MULLIN _(shocked)_ Monty! JANET Mr. Bulstead. Oh, what _does_ it matter now? He’d had typhoid and was there to recruit. I’d ridden over on my bicycle... MRS. DE MULLIN _(lamentably)_ Bicycle! I always said it was all through bicycling. JANET _(another shrug)_ He ran into me, or I ran into him. I was rather shaken, and he asked me to come in and rest. It happened close to the house where he was lodging. MRS. DE MULLIN You went in! To his lodgings! A man you had never met before! JANET My dear mother, when you have been thrown off a bicycle, ordinary conventions cease to apply. Besides, as a matter of fact, we _had_ met once before--the day before, in fact. MRS. DE MULLIN Where? JANET Here. By this very stile. Monty was riding past and he asked me the way to somewhere--Thoresby, I think. I was standing by the stile. Next day I happened to ride into Weymouth. We collided--and the rest you know. MRS. DE MULLIN _(sternly)_ Were those the _only_ times you met him, Janet? JANET Of course not, mother. After the Weymouth collision we met constantly, nearly every day. We used to meet out riding and I had tea with him lots of times in his rooms. MRS. DE MULLIN _(horrified)_ How long did this go on? JANET More than a month--till he left Weymouth, in fact. Now, mother, is that all you want to know? Because if so we’ll drop the subject. MRS. DE MULLIN Oh, Janet, what _will_ your father say! JANET Father? He won’t know. MRS. DE MULLIN Won’t know? But I must tell him. JANET Good heavens, why? MRS. DE MULLIN In order that Mr. Bulstead may marry you, of course. Your father will insist on his marrying you. JANET If father attempts to do that, mother, I shall deny the whole story. And Monty will back me up. MRS. DE MULLIN He would never be so wicked. JANET He would have to if I ask him. It’s the least he could do. MRS. DE MULLIN Johnny is there to prove it. JANET There’s nothing to prove that Monty is Johnny’s father. Nothing whatever. MRS. DE MULLIN But, Janet, _why_ won’t you marry him? JANET _(impatiently)_ My dear mother, because I don’t want to, of course. MRS. DE MULLIN You don’t _want_ to? JANET Great heavens, no. Why should I? Monty Bulstead isn’t at all the sort of man I should care to _marry_. MRS. DE MULLIN Why not? JANET Frankly, mother, because he’s not interesting enough. Monty’s a very nice fellow and I like him very much, but I don’t want to pass the remainder of my life with him. If I’m to marry anybody--and I don’t think I shall--it will have to be a rather more remarkable person than Monty Bulstead. MRS. DE MULLIN Yet you _did_ love him, Janet. You must have loved him... then. JANET Oh yes. Then. But that was ages ago, before Johnny was born. After that I didn’t care for anybody any more except Johnny. MRS. DE MULLIN But, Janet, you _ought_ to marry him, for Johnny’s sake. JANET Too late, mother. That should have been eight years ago to be any use. MRS. DE MULLIN Better too late than not at all. JANET Better not at all than too late. MRS. DE MULLIN He seduced you, Janet. JANET _(thoughtfully)_ Did he? I was twenty-seven. He was twenty. If either of us was to blame, wasn’t it I? MRS. DE MULLIN Janet, you’re trying to screen him. JANET Dearest mother, you talk like a sentimental novel. MRS. DE MULLIN _(indignantly)_ And he’s to be allowed to marry Bertha Aldenham, just as if this had never happened? JANET Why not? It’s not _her_ fault, is it? And girls find it difficult enough to get married nowadays, goodness knows. MRS. DE MULLIN Still, she _ought_ to be told, Janet. I think _she must_ be told. JANET My dear mother, if _she_ knows everybody will know, and the scandal will make all the dead and gone De Mullins turn in their graves. As for father it would simply kill him out of hand. MRS. DE MULLIN _(sadly)_ Poor father. JANET _(briskly)_ So, on the whole, I don’t think we’ll tell any one. Come, mother, it’s time we started. _(More kindly)_ Poor mother. Don’t fret. Perhaps Hester will have some news to cheer you when we get home. MRS. DE MULLIN Hester? JANET _(rallying her)_ An engagement, mother. Hester’s engagement. Hester and Mr. Brown have been decorating the church for the last _four_ hours. What an opportunity for a declaration! Or don’t people propose in church? MRS. DE MULLIN Janet, how can you laugh after what has happened? JANET Laugh? Of course I can laugh. What else is there to do? Let’s go home. Johnny! Johnny! _(calls)_. [_By this time twilight is falling. A full moon has begun to risey lighting uf the scene._ JOHNNY _(off r.)_ Yes, Mummie. JANET Come along, dear. Mother’s going to start. Johnny _(off r.)_ All right, Mummie. _(entering r.)_ Oh, Mummie, you’ve not seen my rabbits yet! JANET No. It’s too dark to-night. Mother must come and see them another time. JOHNNY You won’t forget, will you, Mummie? _(looking at Mrs. De Mullin)_ Grandmother, you’ve been crying. Is that because I stung myself with a nettle? JANET Little egoist! Of course it is. Give your grandmother a kiss and we’ll all walk home together. [_Mrs. De Mullin stoop and kisses Johnny passionately. They go off through the gate and the curtain falls._ ACT III Five days have passed since Act II _Scene:_ As in Act I _Time:_ Late afternoon [_When the curtain rises Mrs. Clouston, Mrs. De Mullin, and Janet are on the stage. The nervous tension of the last few days has clearly told on Janet, who looks feverish and irritable._ MRS. DE MULLIN _(speaking off into the hall on the right)_ Good-bye. Good-bye. JANET _(who is standing about c., scornfully)_ Good-bye! Good-bye! MRS. CLOUSTON _(shocked)_ Janet! JANET _(fiercely)_ How many times a week does that Bulstead woman think it necessary to call on us? MRS. CLOUSTON _(sitting)_ She doesn’t call very often. JANET She’s been three times this week. MRS. DE MULLIN _(closing door r.)_ Naturally she wants to hear how your father is, dear. JANET _(irritably)_ My dear mother, what _can_ it matter to Mrs. Bulstead whether father lives or dies? MRS. DE MULLIN Janet! JANET _(exasperated)_ Well, mother, do you seriously believe she cares? Or Miss Deanes? Or Miss Rolt? Or any of these people? They only call because they’ve nothing better to do. It’s sheer mental vacuity on their part. Besides, father’s perfectly well now. They know that. But they go on _calling, calling!_ I wonder Miss Deanes doesn’t bring her cockatoo to inquire. [_Tramps to and fro impatiently._ MRS. CLOUSTON Really, Janet, I can’t think what’s the matter with you. Do sit down and try and exercise some selfcontrol. JANET I’ve no self-control where these Brendon people are concerned. They get on my nerves, every one of them.... Where’s Johnny? MRS. DE MULLIN In the garden, I think, JANET Sensible boy! He’s had enough of visitors for one day, I’ll be bound. I’ll go out and join him. [_Goes out angrily._ MRS. CLOUSTON I can’t think what’s come to Janet the last day or two. Her temper gets worse and worse. MRS. DE MULLIN Perhaps it’s only the hot weather. No De Mullin--- MRS. CLOUSTON Nonsense, Jane, don’t be foolish. We can’t have _Janet_ giving way to that sort of thing at her age. MRS. DE MULLIN I’m afraid she is rather irritable just now. She flew out quite savagely at Hester to-day just after luncheon. MRS. CLOUSTON Why was that? MRS. DE MULLIN Because of something she had been teaching Johnny. The Athanasian Creed I think it was. Yes, it must have been that because Johnny asked Janet what was meant by three Incomprehensibles. Janet asked him where he had heard all that and Johnny said Aunt Hester had taught it to him. Janet was very angry and forbade Hester ever to teach him anything again. Hester was quite hurt about it. MRS. CLOUSTON Naturally. Still, I do think Hester might have chosen something else to teach him. MRS. DE MULLIN That was what Janet said. MRS. CLOUSTON But that’s no reason why she shouldn’t behave herself when visitors are here. She was quite rude to Mrs. Bulstead. What they think of her in London when she goes on like this I can’t imagine. MRS. DE MULLIN Perhaps she isn’t like this in London. MRS. CLOUSTON Of course she is, Jane. Worse. Here she has the restraining influences of home life. Whereas in London, living alone as she does... MRS. DE MULLIN She has Johnny. MRS. CLOUSTON She has Johnny, of course. But that’s not enough. She ought to have a husband to look after her. MRS. DE MULLIN _(sighs)_ Yes. [_Seats herself slowly beside her sister._ MRS. CLOUSTON Where’s Hester? MRS. DE MULLIN At church, I expect. MRS. CLOUSTON Church! Why the girl’s always at church. MRS. DE MULLIN It’s a Wednesday. And it does no harm, I think. MRS. CLOUSTON Let us hope not, Jane. [_De Mullin enters by the door on the left. He has evidently got over his recent attack and looks comparatively hale and vigorous._ MRS. DE MULLIN Have you had your nap, Hugo? DE MULLIN Yes. The sunset woke me, I suppose. It was shining full on my face. MRS. DE MULLIN What a pity it woke you. DE MULLIN It didn’t matter. I’ve slept enough... _(wanders towards sofa, c.)_. Where’s Johnny? MRS. DE MULLIN In the garden, I think, with Janet. DE MULLIN _(wanders to window, c., and looks out)_ Yes. There he is. He’s playing hide and seek with Ellen.... Now she’s caught him. No, he’s got away. Bravo, Johnny! _(Stands watching intently for a while. Then turns and comes down c.)_ What a fine little fellow it is! A true De Mullin! MRS. DE MULLIN Do you think so, Hugo? DE MULLIN Every inch of him! _(pause, sits c., half to himself)_ If only Janet had been married! MRS. DE MULLIN _(sighs)_ Yes. DE MULLIN _(musing)_ I wonder who the father really was. _(looking up)_ She has never told you, Jane, I suppose? MRS. DE MULLIN _(steadily, without looking up)_ No, Hugo. MRS. CLOUSTON And never will. Nobody was ever so obstinate as Janet. DE MULLIN _(nods sadly)_ JANET always had plenty of will. MRS. CLOUSTON Far too much! [_pause._ MRS. DE MULLIN You’ll quite miss Johnny when he goes away from us, Won’t you, Hugo. DE MULLIN Yes. I never thought I could grow so fond of a child. The house will seem empty without him. MRS. DE MULLIN I shall miss him too. DE MULLIN We shall all miss him. _(pause, thoughtfully)_ I wonder if Janet would leave him with us when she goes back to London? MRS. DE MULLIN Leave him with us? Altogether, you mean? DE MULLIN Yes. MRS. DE MULLIN I’m afraid not, Hugo. In fact, I’m quite sure she would not. She’s so fond of Johnny. DE MULLIN I suppose she wouldn’t _(pause)_. I was greatly shocked at what you told me about her the other day, Harriet. MRS. CLOUSTON About her keeping a shop, you mean? DE MULLIN Yes. And going into partnership with a Miss Higgs or Hicks. It all sounds most discreditable. MRS. CLOUSTON Deplorable. MRS. DE MULLIN _(meekly)_ She had to do something to keep herself, Hugo. DE MULLIN No doubt. Still, it can’t be considered a proper sort of position for my daughter. I think she must give it up at once. MRS. DE MULLIN She would only have to take to something else. DE MULLIN Not necessarily. She might come back here to live with us... with Johnny, of course. Mrs. De. Mullin _(astonished)_ _Live_ with us? DE MULLIN Why not, Jane? MRS. DE MULLIN Well, of course if _you_ think so, Hugo. MRS. CLOUSTON Are you sure you will like to have Janet living at home again, Hugo? DE MULLIN I think it might be the best arrangement. And I shall like to have Johnny here. He’s our only descendant, Harriet, the last of the De Mullins. If you or Jane had had a son it would be different. MRS. CLOUSTON _(sighs)_ Yes. DE MULLIN As it is I don’t see how we can do anything-better than have them both down here--as Jane doesn’t think Janet would part with Johnny. It would be better for Janet too. It would take her away from her present unsatisfactory surroundings. It would give her a position and independence--everything she now lacks. MRS. DE MULLIN I should have thought she was _independent_ now, DE MULLIN _(irritably)_ My dear Jane, how can a woman possibly be independent whose income comes out of selling hats? The only form of independence that is possible or desirable for a woman is that she shall be dependent upon her husband or, if she is unmarried, on her nearest male relative. I am sure _you_ agree with me, Harriet? MRS. CLOUSTON Quite, Hugo. DE MULLIN Very well. I will speak to her about it at once. MRS. DE MULLIN _(nervously)_ I hardly think I would say anything about it to-day, Hugo. DE MULLIN Why not, Jane? MRS. DE MULLIN Well, she seems nervous and irritable to-day. I think I should put it off for a day or two. DE MULLIN _(testily)_ My dear Jane, you are always procrastinating. If such an arrangement is to be made the sooner it is made the better. _(Goes to window, c., calls)_ Janet my dear. Janet. [_Pause. Then Janet appears at window, c._ JANET Did you call me, father? DE MULLIN Yes. Come to me for a moment. I want to speak to you. _(De Mullin wanders undecidedly to the fireplace. A moment later Janet enters from the garden.)_ Is Johnny with you? JANET No. He’s having tea with Ellen. I said he might. [_Pause. Janet comes down._ DE MULLIN Janet, your mother and I have been talking over your future. JANET Have you, father? [_With a quick glance at her mother. Mrs. De Mullin, however, makes no sign._ DE MULLIN Yes. We have come to the conclusion that it would be better for you to come back here to live. [_Janet faces round towards her father._ JANET But what would become of the business? DE MULLIN You will have to give up the business, of course. So much the better. You never ought to have gone into it. It was not at all a suitable occupation for you. JANET But I like it, father. MRS. CLOUSTON _Like_ it! A De Mullin _like_ keeping a shop! Impossible. JANET _(firmly)_ Yes, Aunt Harriet, I like it. And I’m proud of it. DE MULLIN _(sharply)_ Nonsense, Janet. Nobody can possibly be proud of keeping a shop. JANET _I_ am. I made it, you see. It’s my child, like Johnny. DE MULLIN _(amazed)_ JANET! Do you understand what you’re doing? I offer you the chance of returning to Brendon to live as my daughter. JANET _(indifferently)_ I quite understand, father. And I’m much obliged for the offer. Only I decline it. That’s all. MRS. CLOUSTON Really! DE MULLIN _(with dignity)_ The question is, are you to be allowed to decline it, in Johnny’s interests if not your own? JANET Johnny’s? DE MULLIN Yes. Johnny’s. As long as he was a child it made little difference where he was brought up. Relatively little that is. Now he is getting to an age when early associations are all-important. Living here at Brendon in the home of his ancestors he will grow up worthy of the race from which he is descended. He will be a true De Mullin. JANET _(quietly)_ Perhaps I don’t want him to be a true De Mullin, father. DE MULLIN What do you mean? JANET My dear father, you’re infatuated about your De Mullins. Who are the De Mullins, after all? Mere country squires who lived on here down at Brendon generation after generation. What have they ever done that I should want Johnny to be like them? Nothing. There’s not one of them who has ever distinguished himself in the smallest degree or made his name known outside his native village. The De Mullins are, and have always been, nobodies. Look at their portraits. Is there a single one of them that is worth a second glance? Why they never even had the brains to be painted by a decent artist. With the result that they aren’t worth the canvas they’re painted on. Or is it board? I’d make a bonfire of them if they were mine. MRS. DE MULLIN Janet! JANET _(impatiently)_ I would. You seem to think there’s some peculiar virtue about always living in the same place. I believe in people uprooting themselves and doing something with their lives. What was the good of the De Mullins going on living down here century after century, always a little poorer and a little poorer, selling a farm here, mortgaging another there, instead of going out into the world to seek their fortunes? We’ve stayed too long in one place, we De Mullins. We shall never be worth anything sleeping away our lives down at Brendon. DE MULLIN _(sharply)_ Janet, you are talking foolishly. What you say only makes it clearer to me that you cannot be allowed to live by yourself in London any longer. Such a life is demoralizing to you. You must come back to Brendon. JANET I shall not come back to Brendon, father. On that I am quite determined. DE MULLIN _(with dignity)_ My dear, this is not a matter that rests with you. My mind is made up. Hitherto I have only asked you to return. Do not force me to command you. JANET _(fiercely)_ Command? By what right do you command? DE MULLIN By the right of a father, Janet. By that right I insist on your obedience. JANET _(losing her temper)_ Obedience! Obedience! I owe no one obedience. I am of full age and can order my life as I please. Is a woman never to be considered old enough to manage her own affairs? Is she to go down to her grave everlastingly under tutelage? Is she always to be obeying a father when she’s not obeying a husband? Well, I, for one, will not submit to such nonsense. I’m sick of this everlasting _obedience_. DE MULLIN _(fiercely)_ JANET...! [_Door opens l. Ellen enters with the lamp. There is a considerable pause, during which Ellen puts down the lamp, turns it up, pulls down the blind and begins to draw the curtains. In the middle of the last process De Mullin intervenes._ DE MULLIN (irritably) You can leave the curtains, Ellen. ELLEN Very well, sir. [_Exit Ellen l. with maddening deliberation. Pause._ JANET Father, I’m sorry if what I said vexed you. Perhaps I spoke too strongly. DE MULLIN _(with great dignity)_ Very well, Janet. You will remain with us. JANET No, father, that’s not possible. For Johnny’s sake, as well as my own, it would be madness for us to live down here. DE MULLIN For Johnny’s sake? JANET Yes, Johnny’s. In London we’re not known, he and I. There he’s simply Johnny Seagrave, the son of a respectable widow who keeps a hat-shop. Here he is the son of Janet De Mullin who ran away from home one night eight years ago and whose name was never mentioned again by her parents until one fine day she turned up with an eight-year-old boy and said she was married. How long would they take to see through _that_ story down here, do you think? MRS. CLOUSTON _(tartly)_ Whose fault is that? JANET Never mind whose fault it is, Aunt Harriet. The question is, will they see through it or will they not? Of course, they _know_ nothing so far, but I’ve no doubt they suspect. What else have people to do down here but suspect other people? Miss Deanes murmurs her doubts to Mrs. Bulstead and Mrs. Bulstead shakes her head to Miss Deanes. Mrs. Bulstead! What right has _she_ to look down that huge nose of hers at _me!_ She’s had _ten_ children! MRS. DE MULLIN JANET! She’s married. JANET To Mr. Bulstead! That vulgar animal! You don’t ask me to consider that a _merit_, do you? No, Mrs. Bulstead shan’t have the chance of sneering at Johnny if _I_ can help it. Or at me either. MRS. DE MULLIN Janet, listen to me. You don’t understand how your father feels about this or how much it means to him. Johnny is his only grandchild--our only descendant. He would adopt him and call him De Mullin, and then the name would not die out. You know how much your father thinks of that and how sorry he has always been that I never had a son. JANET _(more gently)_ I know, mother. But when Hester marries... HESTER? DE MULLIN JANET Yes. DE MULLIN _(turning angrily to his wife)_ But whom is Hester going to marry? Is she going to marry? I have heard nothing about this. What’s this, Jane? Has something been kept from me? MRS. DE MULLIN No, no, Hugo. Nothing has been kept from you. It’s only some fancy of Janet’s. She thinks Mr. Brown is going to propose to Hester. There’s nothing in it, really. DE MULLIN Mr. Brown! Impossible! MRS. CLOUSTON Quite impossible! JANET _(calmly)_ Why impossible, father? DE MULLIN He would never dare to do such a thing. _Mr. Brown_ to have the audacity to propose to _my_ daughter! JANET _(quietly)_ Why not, father? DE MULLIN _(bubbling with rage)_ Because he is not of a suitable position. Because the _De Mullins_ cannot be expected to marry people of _that_ class. Because... JANET _(shrugs)_ I dare say Mr. Brown won’t think of all that. Anyhow, I hope he won’t. I hope he’ll propose to Hester and she’ll accept him and then when they’ve a whole herd of little Browns you can select one of them and make a De Mullin of him, poor little wretch. _[At this moment Hester enters from the garden. An uncomfortable silence falls_. MRS. DE MULLIN Hush, hush, Janet. Here is Hester. Is that you, Hester? Have you come from church? HESTER Yes, mother. _[She comes down, her face looking pale and drawn, and stands by her mother._ MRS. DE MULLIN You’re very late, dear. HESTER A little, I stayed on after service was over. MRS. CLOUSTON How very eccentric of you! HESTER _(quietly)_ I suppose saying one’s prayers does seem eccentric to you, Aunt Harriet? MRS. CLOUSTON My dear Hester, considering you’d only just finished _one_ service... JANET _(who has not noticed the look on her sister’s face)_ Well, Aunt Harriet, who was right? MRS. DE MULLIN Hush, Janet! JANET _(gaily)_ My dear mother, what on earth is there to “hush” about? And what on earth is there to keep Hester in church half an hour after service is over, if it’s not what I told you? HESTER What do you mean? JANET Nothing, dear. Come and give me a kiss. [_Pulling her towards her._ HESTER {repulsing her roughly) I won’t. Leave me alone, Janet. What has she been saying about me, mother? I insist on knowing. MRS. DE MULLIN Nothing, dear. Only some nonsense about you and Mr. Brown. Janet is always talking nonsense. JANET Yes, Hester. About you and Mr. Brown. _Your_ Mr. Brown. Confess he has asked you to marry him as I said? HESTER _(slowly)_ Mr. Brown is engaged to be married to Agatha Bulstead. He told me so this evening after service. JANET He told you! HESTER Yes. He asked me to congratulate him. JANET The little wretch! MRS. DE MULLIN To Agatha Bulstead? That’s the plain one, isn’t it? HESTER The third one. Yes. JANET The plain one! Good heavens, it oughtn’t to be allowed. The children will be little monsters. MRS. CLOUSTON So that’s why you were so long at church? HESTER Yes. I was praying that they might be happy. JANET Poor Hester! MRS. DE MULLIN Are you disappointed, dear? HESTER I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind, mother. MRS. DE MULLIN Your father would never have given his consent. HESTER So Mr. Brown said. JANET The little _worm_. MRS. DE MULLIN My dear! JANET Well, mother, isn’t it too contemptible? DE MULLIN I’m bound to say Mr. Brown seems to have behaved in a very fitting manner. JANET You think so, father? DE MULLIN Certainly. He saw what my objections would be and recognized that they were reasonable. Nothing could be more proper. JANET Well, father. I don’t know what you do want. Ten minutes ago you were supposed to be wanting a grandson to adopt. Here’s Hester going the right way to provide one, and you don’t like that either. HESTER What is all this about, father? What have you all been discussing while I’ve been out? MRS. DE MULLIN It was nothing about you, Hester. HESTER I’m not sure of that, mother. Anyhow I should like to hear what it was. MRS. CLOUSTON Hester, that is not at all a proper tone to use in speaking to your mother. HESTER _(fiercely)_ Please don’t interfere, Aunt Harriet. I suppose I can be trusted to speak to my mother properly by this time. MRS. CLOUSTON You certainly ought to, my dear. You are quite old enough. HESTER Very well then. Perhaps you will be good enough not to dictate to me in future. What was it you were discussing, father? JANET I’ll tell you, Hester. Father wanted to adopt Johnny. He wanted me to come down here to live altogether. HESTER Indeed? Well, father, understand, please, that if Janet comes down here to live _I go!_ MRS. DE MULLIN Hester! HESTER I will not live in the same house with Janet. Nothing shall induce me. I would rather beg my bread. JANET That settles it then. Thanks, Hester. I’m glad you had the pluck to say that. You are right. Quite right. HESTER I can do without _your_ approval, Janet. JANET _(recklessly)_ Of course you can. But you can have it all the same. You never wanted me down here. You always disapproved of my being sent for. I ought never to have come. I wish I hadn’t come. My coming has only done harm to Hester, as she knew it would. DE MULLIN How harm? JANET Mr. Brown would have asked Hester to marry him if I hadn’t come. He meant to; I’m sure of it. MRS. DE MULLIN But he said... JANET I know. But that was only an excuse. Young men aren’t so considerate of their future fathers-inlaw as all that nowadays. No. Mr. Brown heard some story about me from Miss Deanes. Or perhaps the Vicar put him on his guard. Isn’t it so, Hester? [_Hester nods._ MRS. DE MULLIN But as your father would never have consented, dear... HESTER _(slowly)_ Still, I’d rather he had asked me, mother. JANET Quite right, Hester! I’m glad you’ve got some wholesome feminine vanity left in your composition. And you’d have said “yes,” like a sensible woman. HESTER Oh, you’re always sneering! JANET Yes. But I’m _going_, Hester, _going! That’s_ great thing! Keep your eyes fixed steadily on that and you’ll be able to bear anything else. That reminds me. _(Goes to door, l., and calls loudly into the hall.)_ Johnny! Johnny! MRS. CLOUSTON Really, Janet! JANET Oh, I forgot. It’s not genteel to call into the passage, is it? I ought to have rung. I apologise, Aunt Harriet. _(Calls again)_ Johnny! MRS. DE MULLIN Why are you calling Johnny? JANET To tell him to put on his hat and coat, mother dear. I’m going to the station. DE MULLIN You’re going to-night? JANET Yes, father, to-night. I’ve done harm enough down here. I’m going away. JOHNNY _(entering l.)_ Do you want me, Mummie? JANET Yes. Run and put on your things and say goodbye to Cook and Ellen and tell Robert to put in the pony. Mother’s going back to London. JOHNNY Are we going now, Mummie? JANET _(nods)_ As fast as the train can carry us. And tell Ellen to lock my trunk for me and give you the key. Run along. _[Exit Johnny, l._ DE MULLIN Lock your trunk! But you’ve not _packed?_ JANET Oh yes, I have. Everything’s packed, down to my last shoelace. I don’t know how often I haven’t packed and unpacked during the last five days. MRS. DE MULLIN _(astonished and hurt)_ You meant to leave us then, Janet? You’ve been _wanting_ to leave us all the time? JANET Yes, mother. I’ve been wanting to leave you. I can’t stay here any longer. Brendon stifles me. It has too many ghosts. I suppose it’s your ridiculous De Mullins. DE MULLIN Janet! JANET I know, father. That’s blasphemy, isn’t it? But I can’t help it. I must go. I’ve been meaning to tell you every day for the last four days, but somehow I always put it off. DE MULLIN Understand me, Janet. If you leave this house to-night you leave it for ever. JANET _(cheerfully)_ All right, father. DE MULLIN _(growing angrier)_ Understand, too, that if you leave it you are never to hold any communication either with me or with any one in it henceforward. You are cut off from the family. I will never see you or recognize you in any way, or speak to you again as long as I live. JANET _(astonished)_ My dear father, why are you so angry? Is there anything so dreadful in my wanting to live in London instead of in the country? DE MULLIN _(getting more and more excited)_ Why am I angry! Why am I...! MRS. DE MULLIN Sh! Hugo! You mustn’t excite yourself. You know the doctor said... DE MULLIN Be quiet, Jane! _(turning furiously to Janet)_ Why am I angry! You disgrace the family. You have a child, that poor fatherless boy.... JANET _(quietly)_ Oh come, I could have got along quite well without a father if it comes to that. And so could Hester. MRS. DE MULLIN Janet! JANET Well, mother, what has father ever done for Hester or me except try and prevent us from doing something we wanted to do? Hester wanted to marry Mr. Brown. Father wouldn’t have allowed her. He’s not genteel enough to marry a De Mullin. I want to go back to my shop. Father objects to that. That’s not genteel enough for a De Mullin either. Well, hang all the De Mullins, say I. DE MULLIN _(furious)_ I forbid you to speak of your family in that way-of _my_ family! I forbid it! It is an outrage. Your ancestors were honourable men and pure women. They did their duty in the position in which they were born, and handed on their name untarnished to their children. Hitherto our honour has been unsullied. You have sullied it. You have brought shame upon your parents and shame upon your son, and that shame you can never wipe out. If you had in you a spark of human feeling, if you were not worthless and heartless you would blush to look me in the face or your child in the face. But you are utterly hardened. I ought never to have offered to receive you back into this house. I ought never to have consented to see you again. I was wrong. I regret it. You are unfit for the society of decent people. Go back to London. Take up the wretched trade you practise there. It is what you are fit for. JANET That’s exactly what I think, father. As we agree about it why make such a fuss? DE MULLIN _(furious)_ Janet.... HESTER Father, don’t argue with her. It’s no use. _(solemnly)_ Leave her to God. JANET Hester, Hester, don’t deceive yourself. In your heart you envy me my baby, and you know it. HESTER _(indignant)_ I do not. JANET You do. Time is running on with you, my dear. You’re twenty-eight. Just the age that I was when I met my lover. Yes, my lover. In a few years you will be too old for love, too old to have children. So soon it passeth away and we are gone. Your best years are slipping by and you are growing faded and cross and peevish. Already the lines are hardening about your mouth and the hollows coming under your eyes. You will be an old woman before your time unless you marry and have children. And what will you do then? Keep a lap-dog, I suppose, or sit up at night with a sick cockatoo like Miss Deanes. Miss Deanes! Even she has a heart somewhere about her. Do you imagine she wouldn’t rather give it to her babies than snivel over _poultry?_ No, Hester, make good use of your youth, my dear. It won’t last always. And once gone it is gone for ever. _(Hester bursts into tears.)_ There, there, Hester! I’m sorry. I oughtn’t to have spoken like that. It wasn’t kind. Forgive me. _(Hester weep more and more violently.)_ Hester, don’t cry like that. I can’t bear to hear you. I was angry and said more than I should. I didn’t mean to vex you. Come, dear, you mustn’t give way like that or you’ll make yourself ill. Dry your eyes and let me see you smile. _(Caressing her. Hester, who has begun by resisting her feebly, gradually allows herself to be soothed.)_ That’s better! My dear, what a sight you’ve made of yourself! But all women are hideous when they’ve been crying. It makes their noses red and that’s dreadfully unbecoming. _(Hester sobs out a laugh)_. No. You mustn’t begin to cry again or I shall scold you. I shall, really. HESTER _(half laughing, half crying hysterically)_ You seem to think every woman ought to behave as shamefully as you did. JANET _(grimly)_ No, Hester. I don’t think that. To do as I did needs pluck and brains--and five hundred pounds. Everything most women haven’t got, poor things. So they must marry or remain childless. You must marry--the next curate. I suppose the Bulsteads will buy Mr. Brown a living as he’s marrying the plainest of the daughters. It’s the least they can do. But that’s no reason why _I_ should marry unless I choose. MRS. CLOUSTON Well, I’ve never heard of anything so disgraceful. I thought Janet at least had the grace to be ashamed of what she did! JANET _(genuinely astonished)_ Ashamed? Ashamed of wanting to have a child? What on earth were women created for, Aunt Harriet, if not to have children? MRS. CLOUSTON To _marry_ and have children. JANET _(with relentless logic)_ My dear Aunt Harriet, women had children thousands of years before marriage was invented. I dare say they will go on doing so thousands of years after it has ceased to exist. MRS. DE MULLIN Janet! JANET Well, mother, that’s how I feel. And I believe it’s how all wholesome women feel if they would only acknowledge it. I _wanted_ to have a child. I always did from the time when I got too old to play with dolls. Not an adopted child or a child of some one else’s, but a baby of my very own. Of course I wanted to marry. That’s the ordinary way a woman wants to be a mother nowadays, I suppose. But time went on and nobody came forward, and I saw myself getting old and my chance slipping away. Then I met-never mind. And I fell in love with him. Or perhaps I only fell in love with love. I don’t know. It was so splendid to find some one at last who really cared for me as women should be cared for! Not to talk to because I was clever or to play tennis with because I was strong, but to kiss me and to make love to me! Yes! To make love to me! DE MULLIN _(solemnly)_ Listen to me, my girl. You say that now, and I dare say you believe it. But when you are older, when Johnny is grown up, you will bitterly repent having brought into the world a child who can call no man father. JANET _(passionately)_ Never! Never! That I’m sure of. Whatever happens, even if Johnny should come to hate me for what I did, I shall always be glad to have been his mother. At least I shall have lived. These poor women who go through life listless and dull, who have never felt the joys and the pains a mother feels, how they would envy me if they knew! If they knew! To know that a child is your very own, is a part of you. That you have faced sickness and pain and death itself for it. That it is yours and nothing can take it from you because no one can understand its wants as you do. To feel it’s soft breath on your cheek, to soothe it when it is fretful and still it when it cries, that is motherhood and that is glorious! [_Johnny runs in by the door on the left. He is obviously in the highest spirits at the thought of going home._ JOHNNY The trap is round, Mummie, and the luggage is in. JANET That’s right. Good-bye, father. _(He does not move)_ Say good-bye to your grandfather, Johnny. You won’t see him again. [_De Mullin kisses Johnny._ MRS. DE MULLIN Janet! JANET No, mother. It’s best not. _(Kisses her)_ It would only be painful for father. Good-bye, Aunt Harriet. Good-bye, Hester. [_Looks at Hester doubtfully. Hester rises, goes to her slowly and kisses her._ HESTER Good-bye. . [_Exeunt Johnny and Janet by the door the right._ DE MULLIN _(his grey head bowed on his chest as Mrs De Mullin timidly lays her hand on his shoulder)_ The last of the De Mullins! The last of the De Mullins! _(The curtain falls)_ End of Project Gutenberg's The Last of The De Mullins, by St. John Hankin *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 54699 ***