PR Author Title Imprint u^ L.< C0PY,^;GHT, 1889, BY HAROLD ROORBACM i^OOrunrbs full Dcsrnptibc CataloaUC of Dramas, Comedies, Comedieiias, Farces, ibleaux-v.vants. Guide-books, Novel Entertainments for Church, School and Parlor 'BYRON New American Edition, Correctly Reprinted from the Original Authorized Acting Edition, with the Original Cast of the Characters, Argument of the Play, Time of Representation, Description of the Costumes, Scene and Property Plots, Dia- grams OF the Stage Settings, Sides of Entrance and Exit, Relative Posi- tions of the Performers, Expla- nation OF the Stage Direc- tions, ETC., AND ALL OF the Stage Business ,n i^ Copyright, 1890, by Harold Roorbach. NEW YORK HAROLD ROORBACH PUBLISHER "OUR BOYS." J^ CAST OF CHARACTERS. t>v Sir Geoffry Champneys (a County Magnate') Talbot Champneys {his Son) Perkyn Middlewick, of Devonshire House (a retired Butterman) Charles Middlewick {his Son) Kempster {Sir Geoffrfs Man Servant) PoDDLES {Middlewick' s Butler) Violet Melrose {an Heiress) Mary Melrose {her poor Cousin) Clarissa Champneys {Sir Geoffrfs Sister) Belinda {a Lodging House Slave) Vaudeville TTieatre^ Strand, London, January i6, 187^. Mr. William Farren. Mr. Thomas Thome. Mr. David James. Mr. Charles Warner. Mr. W, Lestocq. Mr. Howard. Miss Kate Bishop. Miss Roselle. Miss Sophie Larkin. Miss Cicely Richards. Time of Representation — Two Hours. Act I. AT THE BUTTERMAN'S. Act H. AT THE BARONET'S. Seven months are supposed to have elapsed. ACT HI— MRS. PATCHEM'S THREE-PAIR BACK. ''OUR BOYSr 3 THE ARGUMENT. Perkyn MlDDLEWlCK is a retired butterman ignorant and coarse in manner, but kind and generous of heart. SiR Geoffry Champneys, a county magnate proud of his birth and position and tolerating Middlewick only because of his wealth, has come to the latter's house to await the arrival of their two sons, " Our Boys," who, while travelling on the conti- nent, have met in Paris and are now coming home together. It seems that young Middlewick, while at Bonn, had met a Miss Violet Melrose, young, handsome and rich, who is now visiting SiR Geoffry's sister Clarissa, An attachment had sprung up between the two young people ; but, owing to a quarrel involving a duel with a student, he had concealed his identity from her. The action begins with the arrival of "Our Boys." Charles Middle- wick, a bright and dashing young fellow, is overHowing with enthusiasm at what he has seen, and most demonstrative at meeting his old dad again. Talbot Champneys, on the contrary, is rather plain in looks, dull, very near-sighted, greatly over-dressed and, to use his own expression, some- what of a muff — but withal good-hearted and not without common sense. Sir Geoffry has mapped out a parliamentary career for his son, and determined to marry him to Violet Melrose, to which arrangement Talbot, never having seen the young lady, naturally objects. With Violet is her cousin Mary Melrose, a frolicsome country girl, beautiful in face and figure but poor in purse; and it is Sir Geoffry's constant anxiety that, by some chance, Talbot may fall in love with her. Violet, being greatly shocked at old Middlewick's lack of breeding, coarse man- ners and abominable grammar, snubs him unmercifully on meeting him; this so angers Charles that he retaliates by devoting himself to Mary, to the delight of Middlewick who deems her worth a thousand of her haughty cousin. Charles, in spite of Violet's aversion to his father, which he cannot believe real, still loves her. But old Middlewick, on finding that Charles is devoted to the young lady, orders him to drop her at once. Sir Geoffry, meanwhile, having commanded Talbot to insinuate himself into Violet's good graces. But "Our Boys" and our girls mate contrary to orders; whereupon SiR Geoffry tells his son to go and starve, Middlewick follows suit by disowning Charles, and the two boys depart leaving the girls in a state of utter despair, while the old men are congrat- ulating themselves and each other on being downright Roman fathers. Seven months later finds " Our Boys " in the garret of a third rate London lodging house, thin, shabby and otherwise showing extreme poverty, but firm in the resolution not to apply to their relatives for aid. During their absence from their lodgings. Sir Geoffry and Middlewick appear, hav- ing learned of their sons' whereabouts, and listen to an account of their pitiable condition from Belinda, a comical maid-of-all-work, which brings them to the verge of relenting, each waiting for the other to break down first. Hearing steps outside, they retire hastily just as Clarissa comes in ; she brings a fowl with her and, in company with Belinda goes to the kitchen to prepare it, leaving her bonnet on a chair. Violet and Mary now appear and, on seeing the bonnet, suspect " Our Boys" of being false ; 4 ' ''OUR BOYSr so that on the boys' return a stormy scene ensues, ending by the girls indignantly taking their departure. The two fathers, though unable, from their place of conceahnent, lo understand what has been said, have recog- nized female voices and, coming out of their ambush, upbraid their sons as profligates, whereupon they, in turn, are ordered off the premises. The two girls now return, after discovering their mistake, heartily ashamed of their suspicions; Aunt Clarissa follows, and explanations ensue. Old MiDDLEWiCK breaks down completely, declaring that he can play the Roman father no longer, and Sir Geoffry soon follows his lead. The reconcilliation is now complete, and the would-be Roman fathers recognize their mistake in attempting to regulate the matrimonial arrangements of "Our Boys," COSTUMES. Act I. Sir Geoffry Champneys. — Fashionable walking suit, cane, gloves, etc., gray wig, and gray side whiskers and mustache. Watch. Eye- glasses. Talbot Champneys. — Velvet coat and vest, light trousers, eye-glasses, flashy necktie, blonde wig parted in centre, blonde side whiskers and small blonde mustache. Wears eye-glasses. Perkyn Middlewick. — Light coat and vest, dark trousers, bald wig, short reddish hair, also short reddish side whiskers. Charles Middlewick. — Fashionable walking suit, black wig and mustache, gloves, etc. PoDDLES. — Full dress. Carries watch. Kempster. — Livery. Violet. — Handsome walking dress. Mary. — Suit somewhat plainer than Violet's. Clarissa. — Old lady's dress. Act II. All in full evening dress, Middlewick's coat and vest trimmed with brass buttons. Act III. Sir Geoffry, — Overcoat, high hat and cane. Talbot. — Short gray suit, quite shabby. Middlewick. — Large ulster, old-fashioned hat, cane, etc. Charles, — Dark suit, quite shabby. Violet and Mary. — Plain walking dresses, Clarissa. — Plain dress and shawl, very large bonnet trimmed with quite an assortment of flowers. ''OUR BOYSr 5 Belinda. — Old shabby short dress, torn apron, shoes unbuttoned, face and arms smeared with dirt, hair generally mussed up. PROPERTIES. Act I. — Cigar for Talbot Champneys. Furniture as per scene plot. Act II. — Money to rattle in Middlewick's pocket. Pipe and tobacco for Talbot. Furniture as per scene plot. Act III. — Small piece of looking-glass and old shoe on mantel. Box of blacking and brushes. Books, writing materials and roll of Mss. on table R. Coal scuttle, with a little coal, shovel, tongs, hearth broom and poker at fire. Empty coal scuttle for Belinda. Printed papers. Basket and eatables for Clarissa. Tray. Remains of breakfast on table, r. c, common teapot with broken spout, part of a loaf of bread, two egg cups with shells, brown sugar in old cup, small piece of butter, etc. Furniture as per scene plot. STAGE SETTINGS. Act I. Garden Backing •"I^Wojr' ' Doors " ' — — ^ndofr-> Chair — ' Lfoors " ' — 'mnUmr r\ ^" ^^ ^. 1 OHomnl*\^ ^^ 1 '*6>^ UR boys: Act III. Sireei Backing Windoyr. Corn _^Door idor Backing L ♦■♦ J. Table SChairs — J Table ArraChairX Door SCENE PLOT. Act I. — Drawing-room in Middlewick's house, boxed in 3 c, backed with garden drop in 4 g. Double doors c. in flat. French windows r. and L., in flat. Doors r. 2 e. and l. 2 e. Chairs against flat between doors and windows. Chair R., up stage. Arm chair R. C. Table and chairs l. C, Arm chair L., down stage. Sofa down R. Act II. — Drawing-room in Sir Geoffry's house, boxed in 3 G., backed with conservatory in 4 g. Double doors c, and French windows R. and L. in flat. Doors r. 2 e. and L. 2 E. Fireplace, mantel and mirror R. I E. Statues on pedestals against flat between doors and windows. Sofa down l. Arm chaiis r. and l. Chair up r. One tete-a-tete up L.; another c, with ottoman before it. Act III. — Shabby sitting-room boxed in 3 a, with corridor and street backings in 4 g. Door l. C, and window R. c, in flat. Doors R. 2 e. and L. I E. Fireplace, mantel and stove L. 3 E. Shabby old arm chair by stove. Table and chairs up R. c, with remains of breakfast. Small table and chair down R. Chair up L. STAGE DIRECTIONS. The player is supposed to be facing the audience, r., means right; l., left; C, centre; R. C, right of centre ; i.. c, left of centre ; D, F., door in the flat or scene running across the back of the stage ; R. F., right side of the flat; l. f,, left side of the flat; r. d., right door; L. D., left door; c. D., centre door; i e., first entrance ; 2 E., second entrance; U. E., upper entrance ; i, 2, or 3 g., first, second or third grooves ; up stage, towards the back J DOWN STAGE, towards the audience. R. R. C. C. L. C. L. Note. — The text of this play is correctly repi-inted from the original authorized acting edition, without change. The introduction has been carefully prepared by an expert, and is the only part of this book pro- tected by copyright. "OUR BOYS." ACT I Scene. — Handsomely furnished drawing-room at Middlewick's house — PODDLES enters, L. D. Pod. [after pause , looking at w ate h^ Half-past two, I do declare, and the young gents not arrived yet ; train's late, no doubt. No wonder master's anxious; I dare say Sir Geoffry's just as anxious about his dear son. Bless me, to hear 'em talking about " Our Boys,'' as they call 'em, one would think there were no other sons and heirs in the whole country but these two young gents a com- ing home to their governors this afternoon. Enter, Kempster, c. Kemp. Mr. Poddies, any news of the young gents yet ? Sir Geoffrey has just driven over, and Pod. They ought to be here by this time. Mr. Charles wrote mentioning the time and — (Sir Geoffry Champneys pushes past him and enters, c. ) Sir G. What a time you are, Kempster. Why don't you let me know if Mr. Kemp. I beg your parding, Sir Geoffry; I were just inquiring of Sir G. Yes, yes, get back to the carriage, (exit Kempster, — to PoDDLEs) Is your master in ? Pod. I'll see, Sir Geoffry. If you will be seated, Sir Geoffry, I'll Exit, L. D. Sir G. [pacing the room ii7ipatiently and looking at watch and fidgeting) Yes, yes. The train's late ; but I suppose they won't — Why hasn't Talbot answered my letter? Why does he keep me on the rack ? He knows how anxious I am. Haven't set eyes 8 ''OUR BOYSr on the dear boy for three years, and I'm longing to hear his views on men and things. They'll be the same as mine, I know. Enter, Miss Clarissa Champneys, c. — the Baronet s sister— an elderly young lady. Clar. I couldn't refrain ^"om following you, Geoffry. I am so anxious about the dear boy. Sir G. [tetchily) Of <:^//r^^ you're anxious. /'?/« anxious, Clar. And I've no doubt Mr. Middlewickis just as anxious about his dear boy. Sir G. Clarissa, I'm surprised at you. Because these young men happen to have met recently in Paris, and are coming home in company, that is no reason why you should link them together in that ridiculous manner. My son comes of an ancient honored race. The other young man is the son of a butterman. Clar. A retired one, remember. Sir G. Impossible ! A butterman can t retire. You may break, you may shatter the tub if you will, But the scent of the butter will hang by it still, Mr. Middlewick is a most estimable person, — charitable — as he ought to be ; and has considerable influence in the neighborhood. Clar. Which accounts for your tolerating him. Sir G. I admit it. The dream of my life has been that my boy Talbot should distinguish himself in Parliament. To that end I mapped out a complete course of instruction for him to pursue ; directed him to follow the plan laid down implicitly ; never to veer to the right or left, but to do as I bid him, — hke — like Clar. Like a machine. Sir G. Eh? Yes, like a machine. Machines never strike. Clar. I hope he'll answer your expectations. Considering his advantages, his occasional letters haven't been remarkable, have they? [aside) Except for brevity — which, in /n'^case, has not been the soul of wit. Sir G. Dear ! dear ! Clarissa, what a woman you are ! What would you have of the boy ? His letters have been a little short, but invariably /?7/2j. I don't want my son to be a literary man. I want him to shine in politics and Clar. Suppose Mr. Middlewick' s views regarding his son are similar. Supposing he wants him to shine in politics. Sir G. Clarissa, you seem to take a great interest in Mr, Middle- wick, A man without an H to his back, A man who — who eats with his knife, who behaves himself in society hke an amiable gold-digger, and who Clar. Who is coming up the path. So moderate your voice, Geoffry, or he'll hear you. ''OUR Bovsr 9 Sir G. You're a very irritating woman, Clarissa, and I don't — don't Mr. Perkyn Middlewick appears at French windows — he is a sleek, comfortable mati of about fifty . Mid. Hah ! Sir Geoffry, glad to see you. Miss Champneys, your 'umble servant, {^shakes hands ; '^Y^Q^O'e^'SCi shakes hatids distantly, Miss Clarissa warmly) Phew! ain't it 'ot? awful 'ot. Sir G. [loftily, R.) It is very warm. Mid. (c.) Warm! /call it 'ot. [to Clarissa) What d^o you call it? Clar. /call it decidedly " /^ot." Mid. That's what /say. / say it's 'ot. Well, Sir Geoffry, any noosi Sir G, No NEWS. Mid. No noos ! Ain't you heard from your son ? Sir G. Not a line. Mid. Oh, my boy's written me a letter of about eight pages. He'll be here soon ; I sent the shay. Sir G. Sent the what? Mid. The shay — the shay. Sir G, Oh, the chaise? Mid. No, only one of 'em. They'll be here directly. What's the good of Charley writing me a letter with half of it in foreign languages? Here's a bit of French here, and a morsel of 'Talian there, and a slice of Latin, I suppose it is, further on, and then a something out of one of the poets^leastways, I suppose it is, for it's awful rubbish — then, lor! regler rigmarole altogether. S'pose he done it to show as the money wasn't wasted on his eddication. Sir G. [with satisfaction) Hah ! rather different from tny son. He prefers to reserve the fruits of his years of study until he can present them in person. Your son, Mr. Middlewick, has followed the example of the strawberry sellers and dazzled you with the dis- play of the top. Perhaps when you search below you may find the contents of the pottle not so satisfactory, [goes up) Mid. [down, C, aside) Mayhap I may. Mayhap the front tubs is butter and the rest dummies. When I first started in business I'd the finest stock in Lambeth — to look at. But they was all sham. The tubs was 'oiler if you turned 'em round, and the very yams was 'eartless delooders. Can Charley's letter be? — No, I won't believe it. Clar. [aside to him) Don't, dear Mr. Middlewick, don't, [goes up in pleasing confusion) Mid. [aside) Tliat's a very nice, sensible woman. It ain't the first time she's been civil to 7ne. I'll play the polite to her if it's only to rile old poker-back, [goes up to her, l.) Sir G. [down, R.) I knew " our boys" would drive here first, lO ''OUR Bovsr Mr. Middlewick, which must be my excuse for this intrusion, and [noise of a carriage driving up heard) Here they are! here they are ! Mid. [goes up to window) That's them ! that's them ! Sir G. (r. ) I feel actually faint, Clarissa, [sinks on sofa) The thought of seeing my dear, handsome, clever boy again is — is Clar. [aside) Don't exhibit this ridiculous weakness, Geoffry. Sir G. Before a tradesman, too. You are right, [rises) Mid. I feel a bit of a — sort of a — kind of a fluttering jnyself. Enter, Charles Middlewick, at l. d. Char. Father! Dad! Dear old governor ! [rushes to his father' s arms) Mid. My boy! My boy! [embraces him ; they are detnonstrative in their delight — Charley is a hatuisome, gallant young fellow) Sir G. Yes but where's iny son? Where's Talbot? Enter, Talbot Champneys, l. — he is a washed-out youth, with yellow-reddish hair parted down the middle ; a faint effort at a fluffy whisker and moustache ; dreadfully over-dressed, and has a limp look generally ; an eye-glass, and a soft na?nby-pamby manner. Sir G. Talbot, my dear boy, I'm so delighted to Tal. Yes, yes ; how are you ? Bless my life, how grey you've got — shouldn't have known you. And that's not Aunt Clarissa ? Dear, dear ! such an alteration in three years — shouldn't have known you. [kisses her; they turn aside conversing) Mid. (l.) Well, Charley, old boy, how do I look, eh? Pretty 'arty, for an old 'un ? Char. Yes, yes, splendid, [to him, aside) i%arty, dad, /zearty. Mid. Well, I said 'arty. And you, Charley — there! Crowed out of all knowledge. Char, [aside) Crowed — hem! [seejns annoyed at his father s ignor- ance — aside to him) " Grown," governor, " grown." Mid. Ain't got nothing to groan for. [aside) Rum notions they pick up abroad. But, Charley, you ain't introduced me to your friend, Mr. Talbot. Do the /mnors, do the honors. Char. Talbot, this is my father. Mid. Proud to know you, sir. Tal. [through his glass) How do ? how do? Mid. 'Arty as a buck, and fresh as a four-year-old, thankee. Hope we shall see a good deal of you, Mr. Talbot — any friend of my son's Sir G. [comes down, R.) Yes, exactly, Mr. Middlewick. Flat- tered, I'm sure, but our boys' Hues of hfe will be widely apart, I expect. Your son, I presume, will embark in commerce, whilst mine will, I trust, shine in a public and, excuse me for adding, a more elevated sphere. ''OUR BOYSr II Mid. [aside, L. C.) Yes, he looks like a shiner. Clar. But, Geoffry, probably Mr. Middlewick and his son would like to be alone a little, so Mid. Just so. {aside) She is a sensible woman, [to them) I shouldn't mind if you did "get out" for a short time. Sir G. Exactly. I want a talk with Talbot too, and as the ponies are put up, Talbot, we'll have a stroll through the grounds. Tal. I don't mind. Only I'm jolly hungry, that's all. Exit, c. andK., with Sir Geoffry Champneys. Mid. [aside to Clarissa) Miss Champneys, what's your candid opinion of your nephew? Clara. A nmnskull ! Exit, C. and R. Mid. She is a sensible woman. Charley, not to put too fine a point upon it, your friend's 2, fool. I say it deliberately, Charley, he's a /z'ass. Char. [deprecatiUi^ly) Oh, dad ! Mid. And his father destines him for apubhc career. Ha ! ha! Him ever take the public — why, he ain't got it in him to take a beer-shop. Char, [aside) Is it that he has grown more vulgar, or that / have grown more sensitive ? Anyhow, it jars terribly. But who am I to criticise — what should I have been but for his generosity — his — Bah ! Ignorant — H-less as he is, I'd sooner have him for a father than twenty stuck-up Sir Geoffry Champneys. Mid. [sitting) And now, Charley, that we're alone, my dear fellow, tell your old dad what your impressions of foreign parts were. When I was your age the Continent was a sealed book to them as wasn't wealthy. There was no Cook's excursions then, Charley ; leastaways, they seldom went further than White Con- dick Gardens or Beulah Spor, when they in general come back with their bonnets a one side, and wep' when they was spoke to *arsh. No, no, you've been born when there was the march o' intellect, and Atlantic cables and other curious things, and naturally you've benefited thereby. So of course you're a scholar, and seen a deal. Paris now — nice place, ain't it? Char. Glorious ! Mid. 'Ow about the 'orse flesh ? Char. A myth. Mid. Railly through ! And I suppose frogs is fallacies. Only to think ! Char. Paris is a paradise. But Italy — well, there ! Mid. But ain't it a mass of lazeyroneys ? Char. A mere libel. A land of romance, beauty, tradition, poetry ! Milan ! Venice ! Verona ! Florence ! Mid. Where the i/e comes from. 12 ''OUR BOYSr Char. Rome ! Naples ! Mid. That's where Vesoovius is, ain't it ? Char. Yes. Mid. Was it " fizzin' " when you was there, Charley ? Char. No. There was no eruption when I was there. Mid. That's wrong, you know, that's wrong. I didn't limit you, Charley ; I said " See everything," and I certainly expected as you'd insist upon an eruption. Char. But, my dear dad, I saw everything else — Pompeii and Herculaneum. Mid. Eh? Char. Pompeii and Herculaneum — they were ruinedy you know. Mid. Two unfortnit Italian warehousemen, I suppose. Char. Nonsense ! They were buried, you remember. Mid. And why not? It'd be a pretty thing to refuse an unlucky firm as went broke a decent Char. You don't understand. Mid. [bluntly) No, I rt'^w'/. Char. But Germany, dad — the Rhine — "the castled crags of Drachenfels " — the Castle of Erhenbreitstein Mid. Aaron who ? Some swell German Jew, I suppose. Char. And the German women, [nudges him) Mid. Charles, I'm surprised. I'm simply — a — What are they like, Charley ? [gets closer to him) Char, [sighs) Hah! Mid. Lost your heart, eh ? Char. Not to a German girl, oh no — the lady /met who Sir G. [heard without) Well, we may as well join our friends. Char, [aside — rises) Here's Talbot's delightful father. I wouldn't swop parents with him for all his high breeding. Our heart's blood's a trifle cloudy, perhaps, but it flows freely — his is so terribly pure it hardly takes the trouble to trickle. No, Talbot, old fellow, I don't envy you your father, [goes up, L., and joins Middlewick) Sir Geoffry enters, followed by Talbot, c.from r. Sir G. [coining down, R.) But really, Talbot, you must have some ideas on what you have seen. Tal. What's the use of having ideas, when you can pick 'em up in the guide books ? Sir G. [pleased) Ah, then you are fond oi reading? Good. Tal. Reading! H^ ! ha! I hate it. [sits,K.c.) Sir G. [trying to excuse him) Well, well, perhaps so7ne fathers set too great a value on books. After all, one's fellow man is the best volume to study. And as one who I hope may ripen into a ''OUR BOYSr 13 statesman — your general appearance strongly reminds me of Pitt, by-the-bye — perhaps you are right. Mid. {a^zV/ — elbows birth, worth, virtue, and — a — all that sort of thing a Httle out of the way. That is why so many of us — I say us — live in the country, where — where Mid. Jes' so. /know. You're somebody 'ere — nobody there. Quite right ; that's why / settled in the country. Sir G. Your career has been a remarkable one. Mid. Extry-ordinary. I was lucky from a baby. Found a farden ''OUR BOYSr 21 when I was two years old, and got a five-shilling piece for 'olding a 'orse when I was playing truant at the age of six. When I growed up everj^thing I touched turned up trumps. I believe if I'd purchased a ship-load of Dutch cheeses, the man with the van 'ud a' delivered me Stiltons. I believe as the Government went to war a purpose to give me a openin' for contracks. Bacon ! Well, there — bless your 'art, what I made out of bacon alone was a little independence. I never meet a pig in the road that I don't feel inclined to take off my 'at to him. Sir G. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Mid. Every speculation proved a success. It seemed as if I was in the secret of life's lucky bag, and had been put up to where I was to pick out the prizes. Some folks said, " 'Old 'ard, Perkyn, my boy, you'll run aground." Well, I didii t " 'old 'ard," I "'eld on," and here I am. Sir Geofifry, at the age of fifty-three able to buy up any 'arf a dozen nobs in the county. Sir G. [aside) Nobs ! He is a pill for all his gilding. Mid. But if r in not a gentleman, there's my boy. Sir G. Who, I have a sort of suspicion, admires Violet Melrose. Mid. What ! The stuck-up rich gal. No ! no ! Sir G. [eagerly) You think not? Mid. Certain. My son knows better than to thwart 7ne. Miss Melrose snubbed me when we fust met — has cold-shouldered me ever since. Do you suppose my boy Charley would have any- thing to say to a young woman as despised his father? Sir G. [shaking hands) My dear Middlewick, you delight me. Of course not. I was foolishly suspicious. I want my son to marry Miss Melrose. He will do so of course — for he has never dis- obeyed me ; he has been brought up strictly to acknowledge my authority and Mid. And W(?«'/, I'll warrant. Your system's a mistake — inine s the correct one. I've always given my boy his fling — never baulked him from a baby. If he cried for the moon we give him a Cheshire cheese immediate — that being the nearest substitute 'andy. Now he'd obey my slightest wish. Sir G. Will he ! Ha ! ha ! Let us hope so. Enter, Violet Melrose. Vio. Interrupting a tete-a-tete, I'm afraid. Sir G. Not at all. Miss Melrose. Mid. Oh, no, not at all — not at all. [rises and goes up — aside) "Taturtate" — always coming out with her /talian. Ha, she's not a patch upon the cousin ; she's the gal for my money. Sir G. [down — aside in an undertone to Violet) Miss Melrose — may I say Violet — I trust Talbot's manner, modest as it is, has impressed you. You must not take him for the foo— I mean you 22 ''OUR BOYSr mustn't imagine he is the less ardent because he doesn't talk poetry like young Mr. Middlewick, or Vio. [with temper) Oh, don't mention //////, Sir Geoffry — that young gentleman seems to ignore my existence. Sir G. [aside) Good. Son sees father's snubbed and retaliates. [to her) Ha! ha! do you know — pardon my absurdity — at first I actually imagined there was some trifling tenderness in that quarter. But I see by your face I was mistaken. You are above being dazzled by good looks. Vio. [with a Jiatural burst) And he is good-looking, isn't he? Sir G. [a little haughtily) He — hem ! He's lo7ig — but nothing distingue- — Talbot now is not what one call a striking figure, but there's a concealed intellectuality — a hidden something or other — you'll understand what I mean but I'm at a loss for the word at the moment — that is none the less effective in the long run — [with pleasant earnestness) a — then, my dear Violet, he's the heir to a baronetcy. He's an embryo statesman, and he adores you. Didn't you observe him at dinner ? He ate nothing — drank nothing — which — and I say it at the risk of being considered a too observant host — is more than can be said of young Middlewick. Vio. [aside) That's true, for I watched him. Char, [heard without, \..) Ha! ha! ha! You play billiards I why, you know as much of the game as the King of Ashanti knows of Tal. [heard, L.) Ha ! ha ! V\z.y you any day in the week. Mid. [down) I say, Sir Geoffry, them boys are going it, ain't they? Vio. [aside) " Them boys ! " Mid. [aside) I see her sneer. Sir G. [aside) Every time he opens his mouth improves Talbot's chance. Enter, Charley and Talbot l. — Charley is a little excited with wine, but not in the least tipsy — he has been helping himself freely to drown his annoyance at Violet's hauteur and evident horror of his father — Talbot's manner is of the sajne washed-out, flabby nature as previously showfi. Char. Ha! ha! ha! Here's Talbot Champneys trying to argue with me about biUiards. Why, man, you can't see as far as the spot ball. Sir G. The fact of being short-sighted is scarcely a happy sub- ject for jesting. Vio. [with suppressed temper) I quite agree with you, Sir Geoffry. Cliar. [has entered) It's aristocratic ; double eye-glasses look rather distingue, /think. Char, (a/ Violet) Yes, those who are not aristocratic may ''OUR BOYSr 23 sometimes suffer from tlie affection. There are short-sighted fools in the world who are not swells. Vic. [aside) He thinks that severe. Mid. Bless your 'art, yes ; we had a carman as was always driving into every think ; at last he run over a boy in the Boro', and that got him his quietum. Char. Yes, yes, you told us before about him. Mid. [aside) Don't, Charley, don't. If you only brought me out to shut me up, I might as well be a tellyscoop. Sir G. [aside to Violet) Charming papa-in-law he'll make to somebody. Vio. Don't, don't, [looking at Charley) He's looking daggers at me, and I've done nothing. Tal. It's rather rich your talking of beating me at billiards, con- sidering that I've devoted the last three years to billiards and nothing else. Sir G. [aside) The deuce he has ! That's pleasant for a father to hear. Oh, a — exaggeration. Tal. It's rather amusing your bragging of rivalling me. And when you talk about my not being able to see the spot ball, all I can say is Char. Ha ! ha ! ha ! If you cafit, you've a capital eye for the pocket, [at Violet — Violet shows she sees the thrust) Mid. Ah, well, bagatelle s more in my way. When me and a few neighbors used to to take our glass at the Peterboro' Arms, we Char. Yes, yes, father Mid. [aside) He's bit. That gal's bit him. It'll be an awk- ward day for Charley when he shows he's ashamed of his gover- nor. Clar. I agree with Mr. Middlewick — bagatelle's charming. Vio. So it is, Miss Champneys. Clar. So innocent. Sir G. [rising) Come, who's for a game of billiards then? I never touch a cue, but I'll play you fifty up, Mr. Middlewick, and my sister here and your son shall see all fair. Come, you shall see that there is even a worse player in the world than yourself. [aside) There couldn't be a better opportunity for leaving Talbot and Violet alone, [to him) What say? Mid. I'm agreealDle — you must teach me though. Clar. /will do that, if you will allow me. Mid. Only too happy, [goes off , R. D., with Clarissa) Sir G. [aside to T ki.v,ot) Now's your time, bring matters to a crisis. Vio. [taking SiR Geoffry's arm the other side) Sir Geoffry, I'll h2iQk you. 24 ''OUR BOYSr Sir G. {going towards R. D., annoyed — aside) Confound it! [to Violet) You really are most — a — I can't play a bit As i hey go out Violet gives a sort of half sneering, ha if mischievous laugh at Charley, who can with difficulty restrain his annoyance ; when they are off, he turns, finding himself face to face with Tal- bot — Talbot is bringing out a pipe, and filling it. Char. Well. Tal. Well. Char. What are you going to do ? Tal. What are y ou ? Char. I don't know. Tal. I do. I'm going to have a smoke in the stable. Also a good think. Char. A good what ? Tal. Think. I'm in love. Char. You! Tal. Why shouldn't I be ? You tall chaps always think you can monopolize all the love-making in the world. You can love sho7-t, just the same as you can love long. I tell you I'm gone. D'ye hear ? Gone. Char, {bitterly') I'm happy to hear it. I shall be happier when ^QM prove the fact, {moves away) Tal. I'm off. When you want a weed you know where to find me. Exit. Char. In love, is he? I don't wonder at it — she'd entice a hermit from his <:^//— and — and — send him back sold. She can't have a heart, (enter Mary) Ah, women are all ahke. Mary. What a frightful observation! And at the top of your voice too. Char. I mean it. Mary. No, you don't. Char. If I don't may I be Mary, Jilted ? Char. Jilted. The foolish phrase for one of the cruellest crimes — I say it advisedly, crimes — that can disgrace /^;«a/ yours, for instance. Mid. [aside) She certainly is one of the most sensible women I — and after all they'd make an uncommon handsome couple Clar. Eh? Mid. Charley and Sir G. [abruptly, and annoyed) Clarissa, my dear, where on earth has Talbot got to ! Clar. [rising, enraged at discovery of her ?nistake in Middle- wick) How should /know where he's got to! Sir G. [astonished) Why, gracious me ! My dear, I — [aside to her, but aloud) Remember, Clarissa, if you please, there are visi- tors present. Clar. Visitors indeed ! Such canaille ! [goes up and exit") Mid. [aside) I heard you, my lady. So the old ones gomg in for snubs as well as — It's the last time me or Charley sets a foot in this 'ouse. 28 ''OUR boys:' Vio. {who has gone up to conservatory ; looking off ) How mean I feel, watching them. I'll — I'll leave this house to-morrow. Sir G. [aside] What on earth's the matter with the woman? Something's annoyed her, but she mustn't be rude to my guests. 1 have one system with my son, my servants, and — yes, and my sister. She must come back at once and — Miss Melrose — Middle- wick, excuse me a moment or two. Exit, r. d. Mid. All alone with Miss High-and-mighty ! Hang me if I don't tackle her! You'll — you'll excuse me, Miss, but Vio. [in horror) Oh, pray don't say " Miss." Mid. [softened) Eh.? [aside) not "Miss?" [to her) Well, then, we'll say " Voylet." Vio. [disgusted, but unable to restraint her amusement) Mr. Mid- dlewick, you really are too absurd ! She jnoves towards R. door, and exit ; as she does so Charley enters, Q.., from L., and is about to follow her. Mid. [aside) If ever I set foot again in this house — [catches Charley by the arm, and turns him round abruptly towards him- self) Char. Why, dad, I Mid. Charley, where are you a going of? Char, [annoyed) Oh ! father, I really Mid. [severely) Charles Middlewick, you're a going after that young lady. Char. Well, sir, if I am ? Mid. Charley, I don't want you and me to fall out. We never have yet. All's been smooth and pleasant with me hitherto, but when I do cut up rough, Charley, I cut up that rough as the road a being repaired afore the steam roller tackles it is simply a feather bed compared to your father. Char. I don't understand you. Mid. [with suppressed passio^t) Obey me and my nature's olive ile ; go agin me and it's still ile, but it's ile of vitterel. Char. If, sir, you're alluding to my feelings towards Miss Mel- rose, I Mid. I am. Think no more of her. Between you and her there's a gulf, Charles Middlewick, and that gulf's grammar. Perha] s : you think I'm too ignorant to know what pride means. I'm no'. If you ever cared for this stuck-up madam you must forget her. [determiiied) She ain't my sort ; never will be, and she shan't be my daughter-in-law neither. Char. You have always prided yourself on allowing me my own way in everything — it was your system, as you called it — and now, when it comes to a matter in which my whole future happiness is involved, you are cruel enough to Mid. [sharply) Cruel only to be kind, Charley. You wouldn't ''OUR BOYSr 29 marry a woman who despised your father? [Ckaklfn moves aside, ashamed ; pause) If you would, if you do, I'll cut you off with a shilling. I — I — [in a rage) Why don't you meet me half way and say you'll obey me, you shilly-shally numskull ! Char. (/« a passion) You have no right to speak like this to me, if you are my father, [pause ; Middlewick astonished) Mid. [in softer voice) He's right, he's ^z/z'/ hand, c.,fro7n K.', pause abruptly on seeing the others. Mid. W-w-vvhat's this, Charles Middlevvick ? Who is this you are Char. This, father, is my wife, or willh^, when I have your con- sent. Mid. [overcome with rage) Why, you confounded Sir G. [taking up same^ione) Insolent, presuming young upstart, why, I Mid. [in rage, to Sir Geoffry) Don't bully my son, sir ; don't bully my son — that's my department. Sir G. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Finely your system has succeeded, eh? Ha! ha! ha! Mid. We're insulted, defied, both of us. {excitedly') Turn your disobedient cub adrift if you've the courage to stick to your prin- ciples. Sir G. And kick out your cad of a lad if your sentiments are not a snare and a delusion. Charley and Violet, Talbot and Mary, all in a state of sup- pressed excitement, have been earnestly talking in an undertone during the blustering row of the fathers — Clarissa enters. Mid. So I will, sir, so I will. Charles Middlevvick, madam, that boy's no longer any son of mine. If you accept him you blight his prospects. Clar. Mr. Middlewick, are you aware that Miss Melrose is Sir G. [violently) Don't you dare to interfere, madam. Vie. I have accepted him, sir, and I will not blight his pros- pects. Middlewick overcome with rage. Sir G. [to Talbot) And as iox you, you impostor! Tal. That'll do. I won't trouble you any longer. I'm off. Sir G. Off, sir ! where ? Tal. That's 7ny business. Char, [taking T KL.v,OT % hand) Yes, ^//r business. Mid. Oh, yes — you can go with him if you please, and a good riddance. Sir G. Go — go and starve. Tal. That we can do without your permission, anyhow. You've kicked us out, remember, father, because, being grown men, we've set our affections where our hearts have guided us — not your 34 '-OUR Bovsr heads. And — and — Charley, finish it, I'm not an orator, and don't want to be. Char, [to girls) We'll prove ourselves worthy of you by our own unaided exertions, and will neither oi us ask you to redeem your promise till we've shown ourselves worthy of your esteem. We can get our living in London, and rely upon ityouil never hear of our distress should we suffer it. Clar. [distressed) Talbot, my dear nephew, you Sir G. [violently) Hold your tongue ! Vio. [half crying ; to the fathers) You're a couple of hardhearted monsters, and I don't know which I hate the most. Mary. No — nor which is the uglier of the two. Charley taking farewell of Violet, kisses her hand— Talbot tries to get at MARY ; intercepted by his Aunt. Sir G. [aside; violently shaking Middlewick's hand) You've acted nobly, sir — you — you're a downright Roman father. Mid. {reciprocating) You re another. The two old men shaking each other s hands violently but evidently overcome by mingled emotions — Talbot pushes his Aunt aside, and fittgs his arms round M\v.Y, kissing her audibly ; Clarissa falls upon ottoman ; on the jnovement of the scene. ACT DROP. Second Picture. — CLARISSA discovered fainting ; ViOLET holding scent bottle to her nose — Mary at back waving handkerchief on terrace, off, r.; Sir Geoffry iti easy-chair, overcome — Middle- WICK, with hands thrust deep into his pockets, standing doggedly. CURTAIN. ACT III. Scene. — The third floor at Mrs. Patcham's— « very shabby sitting, room in a third-rate lodging house — a tapping heard at the door, in flat, repeated, and then Belinda, a slatte?'nly lodging-house servant, puts her head in. Bel. Was you ringing ? Please, was you a (enters, carrying an empty coal box) Neither of 'em here. Bother them cinders, if I had my way with'em I'd chuck 'em out of winder instead of hav- ''OUR BOYSr 35 iiig to carry 'em downstairs as careful as coals. Coals ! Precious . few of them the young gents has, and prices a rising dreadful. For they are gents, if they do buy only kitchen ones and has 'em in by the yunderd. What a fire ! it's as pinched up as [is about to give it a vigorous poke when she is restrained by the entrance , ^Talbot, d. f. — he is shabby, and a great contrast to his former showy self) Tal. [sharply) Now then ! Bel. [turns with the poker in her hand) Eh ? Tal. What are you going to do ? Bel. Only going to Tal. Of course. Strike a little fire hke that, it's cowardly. Bel. Shall I put some more coal on ? Tal. Certainly not. Bel. You wouldn't let it go out? Tal. Why not? It's a free country. Bel. {aside) Sometimes I think they're both a little— {touches her head) It's too much study, that's what it is. {sweeps up the hearth) Tal. {aside) Capital girl, this ; simple and honest. A downright daughter of the soil, and carries her parentage in her countenance. {direct) Perhaps you had better put a pinch or two on. Mr. Middlewick will be in directly, {she goes into room) He'll be cold, poor fellow, though, of course, he'll swear he isn't. I'm getting uneasy about Charley. Ever since I was seedy, and he sat up so much with me I've noticed a change in him ; if he doesn't improve I shall — {crash of coals heard) There's a suspicious, not to say a shallow, sound about those coals. (Belinda enters with shovel of coals) Bel. I tell you what, sir, your coals are dreadful low. Tal. Low ! Blackguardly, /call them ! Bel. I can easily order some more when I go to Loppit's ! Tal. Just so. Whether Loppit would see it in the same light's a question. There is already a trifling account which Bel. Oh, Loppit can wait. Tal. He ^«;z— SHORT weight. By the way, I saw some boxes in the hall. Bel. Yes, missus has gone out of town for a fortnight, and {is about to put on the lot of coal) Tal. Gently — a bit at a time, {takes up a piece with the tongs) There — there — {business) I say, Belinda, if Loppit were to call his coals " not so dusty" it would be paying them a comphment, wouldn't it ? Bel. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Well, you are a funny gent, you are. As Talbot makes up the fire Charley enters, d. f. — he too is shabby, and looks worn — he carries some papers, and MSS. 36 ''OUR BOYSr Char. Halloa ! Talbot, old man, what are you doing now ? Tal. Giving Belinda a lesson in domestic economy — you know a severe winter always hardens the coal-merchant's heart! Char. Yes, yes. {takes off gloves and hat) Tal. And they're simply going up like — like Char. Smoke ! Tal. There! [has done fire, stands before it, facing Charley ; Belinda takes back shovel vito room) I consider I make a first-rate fire. Char. Yes, you don't make a bad screen. Tal. I beg your pardon, {moves aside) Char. Don't mention it. The attitude and position are thoroughly insular and Britannic. It is a remarkable fact that an Englishman who never turns his back on the fire of an enemy invariably does it with his friends'. Tal. [aside) We've got our "sarcastic stop" on this morning, eh? Well, Charley, I suppose you did no good with Gripner? Char. I had a highly interesdng interview with that worthy pub- lisher. I thought you thought that the poem I commenced at Cologne for amusement, had some stuff in it ! Tal. Stuff! Ha— >//ofit. Char. Exactly. Partial friends have declared I had a real vein of poetry, but Gripner — Ha ! ha ! He — well, he disguised his senti- ments by assuring me poetry was a mere drug in the market. He'd also thrown his eye on those social sketches I'd thought were rather smart, but he said he knew at least fifty people who can roll out such things by the ream. However, he's given us a dozen pages a-piece for his new gazetteer. We begin in the middle of M — you can start at Mesopotamia, and work your way on at ten shillings a column, [hands him papers) It's bread and cheese ! Tal. I should think so. Ten shillings a column, [unfolds paper ; printed sheets) By Jove, they ar-? columns though. Regular Dukes of York. Penny a lining's coining compared to it. I can't say at the moment I know much about Mesopotamia, but Char. I remembered old Mother Patcham had a dilapidated gazetteer downstairs, so I borrowed it, and you can copy the actual facts. Tal. Just so. Put it all in different language. Char. Yes, the more indifferent the better. Tal. Her book's about twenty years old ; nevermind — I'll double the population everywhere — that'll do it. Char. Talking about population, I've had an interview with the agent for emigration to Buenos Ayres — he rather pooh-poohed us as emigrants. They don't want gentlemen. Tal. We don't appear in particular request anywhere. It seems absurd to be hard-up in the Cattle Show week. Char. Our governors are up in town, I'll swear. ''OUR BOYSr 37 Tal. Mine never missed the show for forty years. I can see him critically examining the over-fed monsters — punching the pigs and generally disturbing the last hours of the vaccine victims. Char. Whom I envy. What a glorious condition is theirs — fed on the daintiest food — watched and waited on hke princes — admired by grazing — I mean gazing crowds, and Tal. Eventually eaten, don't forget that. I'llgoasfaras the sheep with you, they can do what we can't. Char. What's that? Tal. Get a living out of \\\€\x pens. Char. Beginning to joke now. You're a changed being, Talbot. Tal. Yes. Genuine " hard-upishness " is a fine stimulant to the imagination. The sensation of four healthy appetites a day, with Char. The power of only partially appeasing two Tal. Exactly — makes a fellow Char. Thin. Our cash is assuming infinitesimal proportions, Talbot. We must still further reduce our commissariat. I've been calculating, and I find that henceforth bacon at breakfast must be conspicuous by its absence. Tal. Bacon — the word suggests philosophy, so with many thanks for past favors, " bye-bye, Bacon." Char. When we first parted with our convertible property, we had hope in our hearts and cash in our money box. Now things don't look rosy we must bow to circumstances. " Tempora mutantur. " Tal. " Et nos mutamur in illis." Char. Which being loosely translated Tal. Means that we must give up the Times and take in the Telegraph. Char. We've parted with a good many things, Talbot, but we've stuck to one — our word. We've never appealed to a rela- tion. Tal. Except, of course, a certain avuncular relative who Char. Shall be nameless. Just so — but our governors must have discovered by this time that our determination was no empty boast, and Violet and Mary have never heard a word from either of us. No one can say we've shown the white feather. Tal. One minute — I must clean my boots, {takes up boots, and brings blacking-bottle from comer with a bit of stick in it, and boot brushes') Char. Why on earth do you always begin to Tal. {blacking boot) Always begin to clean my boots when you talk about Violet and Mary ? Because I feel it's necessary at the mention of their names to work off my superabundant and irre- pressible emotion. I feel if I don't have ago in at my boots, I shall do some awful — {begins to brush violently) Now go it! 38 ''OUR BOYS'' Char. Do you know, Talbot, I could almost swear I saw Violet to-day ? Tal. You don't say so ! Char. And I vow I saw Mary. Tal. Hah ! [brushing with tremendous violence) Char. I don t think they saw me, but Tal. («/ the boot) What a shitie there'll be in a moment ! Char. For I dodged behind a cab and Enter, Belinda, d. f. Tal. And got away without Bel, [brusquely) What are you doing of? Drop them boots. Tal. Belinda! Bd. / clean the lodgers' boots. And it's my place to clean yours — if you are a third floorer, [takes boot and brush from Tal- bot) Tal. {aside) A third floorer ! Char. Belinda, don't talk as if you were reporting a prize fight. (Belinda cleans boots) Tal. And deal gently with the heels ; they won't be trifled with. Char. I've got a deuce of a headache, Talbot, and as I want a good afternoon's dig at the gazetteer, I'll go and he down a bit in my den. Tal. Do. I heard you walking up and down the room half the night; you're getting //// Char. Not a bit, old man, not a bit. [goes towards door) Nerves a little shaky, that's all— that's all. Exit, D. F. Bel. I tell you what — it's my opinion J^'^^ New York.