ANN ANN COMEDY IN THREE ACTS By LECHMERE WORRALL Copyright, 191.^, by Samuel French, Ltd. NEW YORK SAMUEL FRENCH Publisher 28-31) WEST 38th STREET LONDON SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 26 Southampton Street STRAND ©CI.D 33230 TO E. W. ANN Produced on June i8, 1912, at the Critehpn Theatre, London, by Sir Charles Wyndham and Miss Mary Moore, and afterwards transferred to the Court Theatre, London, with the following cast : — The Very Rev. Samuel Hargraves (Dean of Milchester) . . . Mr. Holman Clark. Edward Hargraves (his Son). . Mr. Basil Hatlam. " Billy " (William Lloyd) . . Mr. Hyltan Alien. Mrs. Hargraves .... Miss Fay Davies. Evangeline Lipscomb . . . Miss Jean Cadeil. Ann Anning (an American newspaper reporter) . . . . .Miss Re nee Kelty. Scene.— Edward Hargraves' Chambers in a Residentml Hotel, London, Act I. Night. Act II. The following afternoon. Act hi. The following evening. The Fee for the representation of this play by Ama- teurs is Five Guineas, payable in advance to : — MESSRS. SAMUEL FRENCH, LTD., 26, Southampton Street, Strand, London, or their authorized agents, who will issue a written permission for the performance to take place. No representation may be given unless this written authority has first been obtained. In the event of more than one performance being given, the fee for the second representation is Four Guineas, and for the third and further representa- tions, Three Guineas! But this reduction only applies when the performances are consecutive (evening following evening, or evening following matinee) and at the same theatre or hall. All costumes, wigs and properties used in the performance of plays contained in French's Acting Edition may be hired or purchased reasonably from Messrs. Charles H. Fox, Ltd., 27, Wellington Street, Strand, London. ANN ACT I Scene. — Represents a very comfortable bachelor sitting- room in a Residential Hotel in London. A long bookcase filled with books in a very orderly manner R. A bust af Dante occupies a conspicuous position on the top of the bookcase. Door down R. leads to the staircase. Another door up l. leads into bedroom. Large recessed casement window, with window seat, at back R., opening on to balcony. Another large recessed casement window at back L. [also open.) Between the windows c. is a huge writing-desk with pedestal telephone, w'riting materials, photos, in frames, of Dean and Mrs. Hargraves. Electric reading lamp [lighted). Golf sticks close to table. Fireplace L. with carved overmantel. On mantel : Clock, ornaments and photograph , in frame, of Evange- line. Large Chesterfield settee down l. Armchairs c. and R. Club fender. Occasional tables, chairs, a quantity of ornaments, pipes, and all the parapher- nalia of a young bachelor's den. Electric standard lamp just above L. end of settee [lighted). Fireplace down L. Fire lighted. [At rise of curtain, Mrs. Hargraves is discovered seated in an armchair c. darning her son's socks. The Dean is asleep on the -settee. Edward is sitting on the fender with his back to the fire. Billy is seated r. doing a black and white sketch of the Dean.) Mrs. Hargraves. My dear boy, where do you buy your socks ? 10 ANN. Edward. Oh, just anywhere, mater. I wish you wouldn't bother darning them. Billy. I always throw mine away, Mrs. Har- graves. Mrs. Hargraves. I should imagine you would, Billy. {The Dean snores loudly. All look at him.) It's positively disgraceful ! Billy (drawing rapidly). If I could only suggest that snore ! Mrs. Hargraves. Personally, I feel it's quite suggestive enough. Edward [laughing). Billy, the black-and-white artist — suggesting a snore ! [Telephone hell rings.) (Going to 'phone.) Oh, bother ! Billy. There she is again ! Poor old Edward f Mrs. Hargraves. Who is it ? Billy. An American interviewer, Mrs. Har- graves ; awfully keen on Edward. Y^BWARD [taking up receiver). Yes? . . . No, I'm busy ! I can't — tell her I won't be interviewed, . . , No, I won't ! [Puts receiver up.) That's the sixth time she's rung me up. [Comes down c.) Mrs. Hargraves. I think it's very foolish not to see her. Billy. Poor old novelist — such is fame. Edward (c). I do loathe the idea oi being inter- viewed ; it's so American. Billy. I wonder if it's that New York critic who praised your philosophy and roasted you so badly about your women ? Mrs. Hargraves. You never sent me that one, Edward. What did it say about your women ? Billy. Go ahead, Teddy; trot it out. Edward [reluctantly). It will keep. ANN. U Mrs. Hargraves. My dear boy, it won't. Billy. It's sour enough already. Mrs. Hargraves. I like to hear both good and bad. Edward {goes up to desk c). It isn't that I mind a slating ; a good literary slating is bracing ; but when they attack my accuracy {Coming down c. with press-cutting book.) Billy {quickly). Concerning women ! Mrs. Hargraves {laughs). Isn't it quite usual in' a first novel, and with a male novelist ? Edward. Yes, but — I Billy. My dear chap, they're perfectly right. You don't know anything about women. Edward. Thank you ! Billy. You're welcome ! Edward {finding press cutting). Listen to this, mater. " His masterly methods of description are without blame, and his characterization of men and women is unique, but like many of the rising genera- tion of novelists, he fails utterly in the handling of his womenfolk. Mr. Edward Hargraves knows nothing of women below the age of forty." Billy. Virtuous Edward ! Mrs. Hargraves {sighs). It's certainly true. Edward. I say, that's a bit thick, mater. (Dean snores.) Dear old dad ! Mrs. Hargraves. Who wrote it ? Edward {cross to fireplace). The same woman who always signs herself " Ann." She does go for me. Listen to this: " Mr. Hargraves' description of a passionate kiss passes all understanding . . ." Mrs. Hargraves {interrupting). Edward, you don't mean to tell me you never altered that kiss ? Edward. I suppose I didn't. {Sits on club fender.) Billy. Well, I'm only a poor black-and-white 12 ANN. artist, but if I couldn't draw a kiss in ink better than you can draw it in words, I'd chuck up art. Per- haps it's the same girl who wants the interview. Mrs. Hargraves. " Hannah's Honeymoon " was dehghtful in parts. Your characterization of Old Farmer WiUiams, for instance, was excellent. (Sigh- ing.) I suppose you'll learn about women some day — you'll never write a successful novel if you don't. Edward {kissing his mother). Dear old mater ! [Rises and goes to stool L. of chair c.) How the girls would have loved you if you'd been a man. Apart from her slating, she's given me the most wonderful notice — read this. [Gives her press-cutting hook.) Mrs. Hargraves (reading). " Mr. Hargraves writes with the enthusiasm of youth. His book breathes the purity and fragrance of a white man from cover to cover. The author of " Hannah's Honey- moon " is just a very clever child, who has observed with the philosophy of age and written with the optimistic inexperience of youth. Mr. Hargraves will go a long way." Edward. Ha, ha ! Mrs. Hargraves. " But he shouldn't go alone ! " Billy. Wow-wow ! Mrs. Hargraves. That's a clever woman who wrote that. Edward. Probably some fearful blue-stocking. (Dean snores.) Billy {with a half-laugh). My hat ! Mrs. Hargraves (looking at cutting). "Ann!" I like Ann ! (Returns hook to Edward.) Billy. Edward appears to be pursued by Ameri- can's just at present. I suppose he hasn't told you it was an American girl he pulled out of the water at Henley yesterday ? Mrs. Hargraves. Why, my dear boy, you never mentioned it. ANN. 13 Edward {a Utile self-consciously). Oh, it was no- thing, mater — only a ridiculous accident. Some girl trying to punt ; she and the punt parted company, and I went to the rescue. Billy (to Mrs. Hargraves). Fearfully funny, Mrs. Hargraves, the punt pole subsided with dear little Stars and Stripes hanging on to the business end of it and shouting " Help ! " " Help ! " Pretty girl, too ! Edward. Was she ? Billy {scornfully). " Was she " ? Edward. I didn't notice. Anyway, she over- whelmed me with gratitude. I wish people wouldn't make such a fuss about nothing. Billy. Oh, you're too retiring ! I wish it'd been my rescue ; she was a topping girl ! Mrs. Hargraves (to Edward). I wonder if Evangeline will come round to-night ? Edward. Oh, she'll probably think you're both tired after your journey. She said she might ring up, though. Mrs. Hargraves. Have you seen much of her since she came up to London ? Edward. Oh, yes. Billy [comes c. and showing drawing to both). How's that for " The Dean's Snore " ? [Leans over hack of Mrs. Hargraves' chair c.) Mrs. Hargraves [laughing). Really, it's quite a remarkable likeness under the circumstances. (Dean snores.) Edward. By Jove, that is a snore ! [Rises and goes L.) Mrs. Hargraves. Samuel ! [A pause — then clap- ping her hands together.) Samuel ! .! Dean {waking up). H'm — yes — what was it you said, my dear ? Mrs. Hargraves. Samuel, you've been snoring. Dean. My dear, I never snore ! 14 ANN. Edward {laughing). Dear old dad! Anyway, Billy's got you in black and white. Dean. No! Has he ? {Fumbling for his glasses.) I must see (Billy, leaning over back of couch, shows picture to Dean. The Dean, who has been gently laughing, stops abruptly at sight of drawing.) '{Doubtfully.) And do I really look like that ? Re- markable ! Mrs. Margraves {to Billy). I think you ought to present it to him to hang up in his study. Dean. My dear ! Billy. It's yours with pleasure, sir. Dean. Oh, thank you ! Thank you ! I know you meant w^ell ! I'll have it framed. {Returning drawing to Billy.) (Billy, rather disgusted, goes round to r. and puts drawing on table.) Mrs. Hargraves. We've just been telhng Edward lie knows very little about women. Dean. Ah ! There's plenty of time. Plenty of lime. {Picks up newspaper and becomes interested in it.) Edward. If something doesn't happen to en- lighten me before I start my next novel, I warn you all, I shall take to politics. Billy. Well, it is easier ; and you get four hundred a year. Dean {to Mrs. Hargraves). If Edward w^ould -only be guided by us and get engaged to some nice girl, like Edward. I know — Evangeline. {Takes up photo.) Mrs. Hargraves. Why not, Edward ? She's very amiable, thoroughly domesticated, and altogether desirable. You've been friends since you were ■children. ANN. 15 Dean. A life companion to any man. A Ruth to any Boaz. Edward. I've told you dear people so often I'm not in love with Evangeline. {Puts picture on mantel- shelf.) (Mrs. Hargraves sighs.) Dear old mater, don't sigh. I can't help it. I've never met the woman yet who Mrs. Hargraves. Your condition is positively dangerous. And remember, Evangeline is the kind of girl who will marry and be very happy without much romance. Edward. I suppose I'm much the same. (The telephci'ie hell rings again. Edward looks at it angrily and Billy laughs.) Edward. Now if it's that interviewer, I'll {Goes to 'phone.) (Dean ha.':' taken up the evening paper and is reading.) Mrs. Hargraves. Do ask her up, Edward — you can't refuse. Edward (taking up receiver). Yes, who is it ? (Listens.) I'm awfully sorry but I can't. . . . You'll what ? (Pause — alarmed.) But, wait a minute — no, don't ring off. (Listens.) Well, I'm (Puts down receiver.) Billy. What's she want now ? Edward. Of all the cheek ! Of all the Mrs. Hargraves (laughing). What on earth's the matter ? Edward. She says she'll get that interview whether I like it or not. Dean (putting paper dow7i). But who is it. my dear boy ? Edward (c). Oh, some American newspaper woman who wants to interview me. dad ! Billy. What else did she say ? IC ANN. Edward. Called me a shy, self-conscious English- man. Billy. No ! (Mrs. Hargraves hursts out laughing.) Dean (taking up newspaper again). These Ameri- cans are a wonderful people — a truly wonderful people ! Billy. I bet you she'll get that interview ! Mrs. Hargraves. I hope she will ; you've no sense of business. Dean (looking at paper). Why, what's this, Edward, about you and an accident at Henley ? Billy. Ha, ha ! Serves you jolly well right. They've stuck it in the paper. Mrs. Hargraves. Read it, Samuel. Dean (reading impressively). " A Novelist Hero." " Mr. Edward Hargraves, whose first novel has been one of the most widely-discussed books of the year, yesterday rescued an American lady from an awkward predicament at Henley. Whilst making an amateur- ish attempt at punting, the lady and the punt parted company. As the pole sank deeper and deeper into the mud, her position became more and more pre- carious, and in a few moments she was struggling in the water. Mr. Hargraves, who was on a houseboat near by, without a moment's hesitation, jumped into the water and rescued our fair American" cousin amidst the plaudits of those who witnessed the acci- dent from the bank." Billy. " Amen ! " (Continuing.) Much to the secret joy of his friend, Billy Lloyd, who wasn't a bit heroic, but remained high and dry on the bank. Edward. What rot — shoving stuff like that in the papers. (Down l.) Dean. My dear boy, you did your duty manfully. Mrs. Hargraves. And you have no idea who the ■ girl was ? Edward. None at all. ANN. 17 Billy [looking at his watch). I say, Mr. Hargraves, I don't want to hurry you, but if we're going slum- ming, oughtn't we to be off ? Dean [rising and coming l.c). Certainly. [To Mrs. Hargraves.) My dear, I suppose you will go to bed early to-night ? Mrs. Hargraves. Yes, but I want to have a talk with Edward first. Dean [to Mrs. Hargraves) . God bless you — good- night, my dear. [To Edward.) I'll look in later on my way upstairs. [Exit Dean r.) Billy [to Mrs. Hargraves). I say, Mrs. Har- graves, if you can't persuade him to propose to Evangeline, try and persuade Evangeline to propose to me. By-bye, Teddie. [Exit Billy laughing r.) [There is a moment's pause after they are gone. Mrs. Hargraves darns socks energetically. Edward re-arranges papers on table.) Mrs. Hargraves. Edward, I want to have a heart to heart talk with you. Edward. Yes, dear old darling. (Si^s on stool at Mrs. Hargraves' feet.) Mrs. Hargraves. A parson's wife is pecuharly placed, and however much of a woman of the world she may be, she must not show it. Edward. I know. Mrs. Hargraves. Your father, God bless him, is one of the best of men, but he's narrow-minded — he can't help it. He's told me so — often ! Edward. Dear old dad ! Mrs. Hargraves. You, Edward, are growing like him, and I can't stand it. Edward. But Mrs. Hargraves. You are — you've been twenty- 18 ANN. eight years in this world and you've not even begun to understand women. {Facing htm.) Edward, ^yhy don't you break out — and (Rises, goes to l.) • Edward. And what ? Mrs. Hargraves. Make an effort — flirt — kiss somebody ! Find some really nice girl who wants to Edward. My dear old darling, what in Heaven's name are you driving at ? Mrs. Hargraves {energetically). Can't you see your whole success as a novel writer depends on your understanding women more thoroughly ? Edward. Women bore me, mater. {To c.) Mrs. Hargraves. Because you've only known the Cathedral Town girl. Surely, after being in London three years you might have — well, met some types. Edward. It's not easy to — well, I Mrs. Hargraves. My dear boy. it's just cowardice. You've been afraid of the sex all your life. From a little boy I've noticed it. li only you'd been blessed with sisters — and cheek. But, dear, it's time you made an effort. Edward (nervotisly). It takes up so much time, mater. Mrs. Hargraves. Nonsense ! It's never waste of time — never ; a woman's man can always suc- ceed in the world. {Crosses R.) Edv\^ard {sitting in armchair c). I can't flirt ; I've tried. Billy bullied me into it at Cambridge. I tried to talk to a little girl in a Restaurant he knew — she hated me — positively loathed me in five minutes. Mrs. Hargraves"^(s^.^/_v). Poor Edward. Edward. The last time I made a terrific effort with some other girls Billy knows. We took two down to Richmond in a boat. The most boring experience I've ever had — conversation was all of the gigly sort. Mrs. Hargraves. Were they pretty girls ? (r.) Edvv^ard. Yes, I suupose so ; in a way — in a fluffy, frilly way. ANN. 19 Mrs. Hargraves. Oh, my poor dear boy ! (Goes up towards window r.) Edward. No, it's no good, mater. It can't be done. (Rises, goes to Mrs. Hargraves.) You're the only woman I really care to talk to. Mrs. Hargraves. Fiddlesticks ! You know, Ed- ward, I'm very much afraid you'll develop into a prig, and I can't stand it. Edward. Very sorry, darling ; then I suppose I'll have to. (Comes sloivlv down c. towards fireplace.) Mrs. Hargraves. Poor, poor Edward. (Goes up by desk.) Edward (struck with an idea. Goes to photo on mantel, and takes it up). I tell you what, darling ; I'll ask Evangeline to marry me. Does that please you ? Mrs. Hargraves (thoughtfully). It's not a bad idea. (Coming down c.) Edward. I shall tell her I don't love her. Mrs. Hargraves. Don't you even like her ? Edward. Yes, I like her — she's amiable. Mrs. Hargraves. But you're such old friends, and Evangeline has always been fond of you. Edward. Has she ? Mrs. Hargraves. Yes, she's one of those girls who always make successful wives, even when they merely marry for marrying's sake. Edward. She won't be obtrusive, and she's awfully clean and tidy. (Mrs. Hargraves looks at Edward with a doubtful smile.) Mrs. Hargraves. She'll accept you, Edward. Remember, even if you don't love her very much, you've got to be interested in her. Edward. Of course, of course ! Mrs. Hargraves. And 20 ANN. {The telephone hell rings. Edward goes up to 'phone quickly.) Dear me, what a start those things give me. Edward {answering telephone). Look here, this is the seventh time to-day, and I'm fed up with it — fed up with it — fed Who is it ? . . . Oh, by Jove ! No, I didn't mean you — I'm awfully sorry. The mater came up to town to-day . . . yes — and the governor. Mrs. Hargraves. Who is it ? {Slowly up to Edward. Edward {to his mother). Evangeline ! {Listening.) What ? . . . yes, do — when will you come ? . . . To-morrow afternoon— right you are. Tea. Mrs. Hargraves {up to Edward, putting her hand over receiver). Why don't you propose to her now ? {Removes hand from receiver.) Edward. Good Lord, over the 'phone ? {To Evangeline.) It's all right ; I wasn't speaking to you, I — it was the mater. Mrs. Hargraves. It will be much easier over the 'phone. Edward {to Mrs. Hargraves). Will it ? Mrs. Hargraves. Yes, let me speak to her first. Edward {speaking into 'phone). Don't ring off — the mater wants to talk to you. . . . Yes, it's serious. Mrs. Hargraves {taking up 'phone). How are you, dear ? {Pause.) Oh, we had quite a nice jour- ney. {Pause.) Yes, very well. {With a little ner- vous cough.) Evangeline, Edward's going to Edward {nervously interrupting). It was a joke, mater — a joke ! Mrs. Hargraves. Seems very absurd over the 'phone, but Edward wants to ask you something. Edward. Joke, mater ! {Hands outstretched.) Mrs. Hargraves {slapping his hands down). Will you be quiet ? {Into 'phone.) Yes — he's going to ANN 21 now — I do hope you'll say yes {Pause.) But I do hope you'll say yes — some day. {She motions to Edward to take receiver. Edward takes it nervously and stands uncomfortably.) {Collecting his socks.) I'll put your socks away. Edward. But I say, mater, you're not going to leave me ! Mrs. Hargraves {bus.). My dear boy, I can't propose for you. {Exit Mrs. Hargraves to bedroom l.) Edward. Are you there ? . . . Er, good — I'm glad you're there. . . . What is what ? . . . Oh, I'm just going to tell you. Look here, Evangeline, I'm thinking of — well, I want to get married — some day . . . get married — married — m-a-r-r-i-e-d. And — er, well, you and I have known each other — I say {shouting.) you and I have known each other a long while. Am I what ? . . . Yes, I am proposing . w . of course I'm in earnest — I think we'll just get on splendidly and. . . . What's that ? You knew ? . . . {Laughs a little nervously.) I know I'm shy. You unit ? Oh, thank you — I mean, thank you for keeping me out of suspense. . . . Oh, yes, thank you — quite a relief. . . . No, I don't love you just like that. . . . No, no, no. 1 respect you most awfully, and we're just great friends and I want you to — oh, well, anyway, it's settled, isn't it ? . . . Good — I quite appreciate the point — I do really. The mater will be dehghted — dear old mater ! . . . Yes, I f^el sure the governor will be delighted ; it was he who first suggested it. {Greatly confused.) Well — er Good-bye — dear. . . . What ? . . . Of course, I forgot. Oh, well, you'll choose it. I don't know what you hke — something with diamonds, I suppose ? . . . What ? Oh, amethysts ! Yes, I know — green stones. Well, good-bye — dear ! To-morrow 22 ANN. at four. . . . No, I can't in the morning. — Pub- lishers in the morning. Yes. Good-bye — dear \ {He puis up receiver.) Phew ! ! ! (Mops his /ore- head with his handkerchief.) [Enter Mrs. Hargraves l.) Mrs. Hargraves. Well ? Edward (up at 'phone — mopping his head). She's done it ! Mrs. Hargraves. Done what ? (Up stage i.e.) Edward. Said " yes " ! Mrs. Hargraves (surprised). Already? Well, I never. I (Coming down to l.c.) Edward. / was surprised, mater. Mrs. Hargraves (suppressing her real feelings, comes to l.c). It just shows what a nice sensible girl she is. Edward. She seemed to be expecting it. Mrs. Hargraves. Oh, did she ? Edward. Do they always expect — I mean, well, old darling, never mind, I've done it now. Mrs. Hargraves (tearfully). Oh, my dear, I wish you knew a little more. (Head on his shoulder.) Edward. Why, mater darling, why are you crying? Mrs. Hargraves (recovering). Never ask a w^oman that. Edward. Why now ? Mrs. Hargraves (dabbing her eyes). Oh, bless the boy — because she can't always tell you. (Goes to settee, picks up paper and sits down.) Edward (looking round room). I suppose I'll have to clear out of this. It's a jolly httle flat. Mrs. Hargraves. It's not nearly big enough. (Listening.) What was that ? Edward. What ? (Up to window.) Mrs. Hargraves. I thought I heard a noise. (Up to Edward.) ANN. 23' (They listen.) Edward. It's nothing. Mrs. Hargraves (at window). I never feel safe with these fire-escapes. Edward. You'd feel a lot more nervous without* them. Mrs. Hargraves. My dear boy, I may be old- fashioned, but I'd far rather risk being burnt than being burgled. Edward. Oh, nobody's going to burgle you, darling. (Whistles a jew notes of " The Wedding- March:') ' . Mrs. Hargraves. Oh, don't do that, it's so un- lucky. ■ I'm going to bed, Edward. {Coming down R.) You can see me up to our flat — I'll walk up — I hate lifts. Edward. Right oh, mother. (Down r.c.) Mrs. Hargraves (at r. door). You know, dear, I'm much happier about ^^ou. After all, Evangeline's better than no one. Edward. That's all right, dear mater. (Exeunt Mrs. Hargraves and Edward r.) (After they have gone, there is a pause. Then enter Ann quickly, window r., with a scream. She comes down to c. Finding no one in the room, she gives a little chuckle and looks around. She sees photos at desk ; goes up and picks up the Dean's pfioto.) Ann. Father ! Dear sweet old parson ! (Picks up photo of Mrs. Hargraves.) Mother ! She's just fine ! (Comes down c, sees Evangeline's photo on mantel ; crosses to it and picks it up.) Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prisms ! (Up to door L.U., opens it a little way and then shnds it quickly.) Author's bedroom ! 24 ANN. {Hears Edward ■whistling off and exit Ann quickly through ivindow.) .Enter Edward r. He comes slowly over to fireplace and picks up Evangeline's photo.) Edward [looking round the room, rather ruefully). It's a jolly little flat. (Enter Ann through window precisely as before, with a long scream comes down c.) (Putting photo doivn). What the — what's the matter ? Ann (acting for all she is worth). Oh, oh — oh my ! (With her skirts tightly tucked round her.) Edward. What on earth's the matter ? Ann. Oh — oh — I do hope it didn't get in ! Edward. What was it ? Ann. a mouse ! Edward (relieved). A mouse! Is that all! I keep them ! (Ann makes a dash for the "window.) (With a grin.) White ones — down in the country. (Ann sighs with relief and turns from the window and comes down c. slowly, looking at Edward.) (Curiously, when Ann is well down stage.) I say, haven't I seen you before ? Ann (laughing). You've heard me (Think- ing.) Let me see — yes, six times to-day, and you've rudely refused Edward (interrupting). Then you're Ann (nods her head). I'm the American inter- viewer — I'm a business woman ; that's why I in- vented the mouse. Edward. You invented the mouse ? Ann. So as not to shock you with my apparent unconventionality. Besides, it's your own fault — you've been very stubborn. ANN. 25 Edward (l.c, nervously). Have I ; I — I'm sorry. Ann. I was obliged to see you anyhow — on another matter. {Goes up and puts hook on table R.) Edward. Oh — what ? (Nervously.) Ann (r.c). If you were to throw a bucket or two of water over me now, you'd probably recognize me. Edward. By Jove, you're not the girl who Ann. Who made a most complete fool of herself at Henley yesterday [Coming over to Edward and impulsively holding out her hand.) Thank you so much, Mr. Englishman. Edward (awkwardly). Oh, it was nothing! Ann (rather huffily): Nothing ! Well, perhaps not for you. Edward. I mean — of course, it was awful for you, but nothing to me Ann (laughing). I must have looked cute on the end of that pole. (More seriously.) You'll let me interview you, won't you ? Edward. I can't help myself. Ann. How did you like my criticism ? Edward. You ? Ann. In the "New Eye Witness." Edward. Oh, you were the— — Ann (c). Yes. Have you ever been on a honey- moon ? Edward (l.c). Good Lord, no ! Ann. I'm glad. Edward. Why ? Ann. Because there's some excuse for your ignor- ance. Edward. Oh, thank you. Ann (up to Edward). But there's no excuse for your writing about a thing hke a honeymoon if you've never tried it. Edward. An author often has to draw upon his imagination. Ann. Not about a beautiful, sacred thing Uke a honeymoon. It's vandalism— sheer vandaUsm. A 26 ANN. honeymoon is just as sacred and wonderful to me as a very beautiful baby all just new and crimply. [Suddenly and vigorously, hacking Edward to l.) Don't you ever dare to describe a very new baby until you've thoroughly mastered ail it's loveliest points, Edward [nervously). No, no, certainly not. Ann. You're just the sort of person who would try and do a silly thing like that. Remember, you've spoiled Hannah's Honeymoon and you simply can't spoil her baby. [Forcing Edward to fender, wkere he sits.) Edward. I shouldn't think of it ! Ann (looking at him curiously, then coming to chair c.) You're just exactly what I expected from the book. Edward. I — I'm— glad — I came up to 37our ex- pectations. Ann [sits on chair c). Why do you write so well — and so badly ? I love the book — in parts. Edward. Thank you. Ann. Tell me, where on earth did you pick up that mass of muddled information about women ? Edward [rises and goes up to her). The fact of the matter is — I'll tell you^ — I don't know enough about women ! Ann. I don't want being told — it's so self-evident. [Gently and wonder ingly.) It's how you managed to live to years of maturity in such appalling ignorance that tickles me. Edward. Well, I chd, that's all. Ann. Ever kissed a girl ? Edward. I — I Ann [promptly). No, you haven't. If you said you had, I wouldn't believe it. Edward. Why ? [Sits on arm of settee.) Ann. Because — [rises, gets book and returns to chair. Turning over the pages of the book.) — you des- cribed a kiss. Yes, here it is, I marked the place. ANN. ,. 27- {Quoting.) " His lips touched her cheek for one brief moment — and he knew that he loved her." (Raises her eyes to Heaven, then looks at Edward.) ^ Edward. Well, what's wrong ? Ann (wonder ingly). Aren't you just an infant ? Who ever heard of a kiss lasting a moment teaching a man a whole lifetime of love ? Edward. I don't quite Ann (interposing). Why don't you see it was a long kiss that was wanted — a real, long, thrilling kiss — not a peck, as if he was saying good-night to his sister. What do you suppose a peck on the cheek like that could possibly convey ? Edward. I don't know Ann (looking up at him whimsically). You know, I rather like you for it. Edward. Why ? Ann (turning to the hook). Never mind — now look at this. You make your heroine recover from a whole rush of tears before she's had time to really enjoy half the flood. Edward. But surely Ann (interposing). A girl who'd turn on the tap like that ^wouldn't let up for at least ten or fifteen minutes. Your ignorance is simply appalling. Edward. Well, I'm Ze.^^nzmg, that's clear. (Rises,, goes to fender.) Ann. Ever been engaged ? Edward. No, but (Looks at photograph of Evangeline.) Ann. Of course, you've never kissed a girl Edward. Er — I am engaged ! (Turns to her.) Ann. What ? (Rises, puts book down.) Edward. I got engaged to-night, as a matter of fact. . . . Ann (disappointed). You got engaged to-night ? Edward. It's a fact. Ann. But how on earth did you get through with- out kissing her ? 28 ANN. Edward. Er — telephone (Indicating tele^ phone.) Ann. Tel — oh my ! (Roars n'ith laughter — goes up and then down stage.) Edward. What are you laughing at ? Ann (stops laughing). You mean to say you lost just the sweetest, finest, loveliest moment of your life over an old telephone ? Edward. I — I'm very sorry, but I did. Ann. And the girl let you do it ? Edward. I suppose it was my fault. Ann. Did it on the spur of the moment ? Edward. Exactly ! Ann. And she accepted you ? Edward. Yes. Ann. What an awful future you've got to face ! Edward (nervously). W^hy an awful future ? Ann. a girl who'd say " yes " over a telephone, unless she was dying or unless she — oh, my gracious, what's she like ? Edward. She's (Suddenly.) I'll fetch her — I'll fetch her. (Getting photograph from mantel.) Ann. I thought so. There they are — all five : papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prisms ! My poor boy, you'll never even write another bad novel. Where does she live ? Edward. She's a But why should I tell you ? (Takes photo from Ann.) Ann. Oh, Mr. Enghshman, don't start highbrow talk ; things are far too serious. Edward. Well, she's a Canon's daughter, and I've known her all my life. She's awfully clean and tidy. She's been brought up in a Cathedral town Ann. That is some excuse, I suppose. Edward. It's narrowing. (Going l.) Ann. Do you love her ? Edward (thinking a moment). No, I can't say I do. (Puts photo on mantel.) Ann. Then what in the world — whv did vou ? ANN. 2Q Edward (l.) To tell you the honest truth, my dear old mother, who's the greatest woman I've ever met Ann {running over to him impulsively). I like that — go on. Edward. No, but she's really a very clever woman ; and she's been going for me about the book, and in fact told me a lot you've just been rubbing in ; so, to settle matters, I said I'd get engaged — er — to learn — er — I mean Ann {clapping her hands and going over to r.) Oh, aren't you just lovely ! The true artist sacrifices his life to the cause of art ! Edward. Well, to be quite honest, it's not Ann. Yes, it is ; a nice, funny old thing like you can't be allowed to do it. She'll never help you. (Sitting on R. arm of settee.) Edward (down l.). How do you know ? Ann. Don't I tell you a girl who'd say " yes " over a 'phone — a nasty, cold, old 'phone — can't understand — anything. Edward. She's quite a nice girl. Ann. Nice ! You don't want a " nice " girl ! Edward. How d'you mean ? Ann. Oh, how you'd know things if you'd been nearer nature. How I'd Uke to gallop you across a prairie — how you'd just love it ! The wind and the breath of the long grass filling your body with life ; and the spirit of the wilderness, filhng your heart and soul full of the passionate joy that makes you shout aloud — Life ! Love ! Love — Life ! They're one — one — whooppee ! (Indian whoop.) Edward (dashing across to door r.). I say, look out ! Ann (contemptuously). Loving by telephone! You ! If it weren't so tragic, it'd be comic. Edward (sitting in armchair r.). I've done it now. Ann. And you'll stick to it ? Edward. Of course. 30 ANN. Ann. Oh. silh' man ! (Sits 07i l. end of settee.) Come and sit over here. (EdWx\rd hesitates and looks shy.) (Repeated.) Come and sit over here ! (Edward shuffles about, rises, comes r.c. and stops again.) Come along ! (He sits by Ann. Bus. of moiling tip to him repeated three times.) Now listen to your little American friend. Y.t>\\xr'd(u7^ freezing). I'm listening. Ann. You're going to spoil your life if you marry this cold, dry English girl, that was just made to marry a curate. Can't you imagine something of the girl who'd help you ? Later on you'll be nervy and jerky over your work — just when you're feeling 3'our wings and want to do your great book ; and then that insipid girl you married won't know quite how to fix things, and you'll just want sympathy so badly, you'll cry. Edward. A man doesn't cry. Ann. My! Don't they! Some of the nicest men I've ever met could cry at times like little chil- dren. (Laying her hand on his.) Edward. You're very kind, (Looking down at hand.) and s^inpathetic. Ann. I'm glad you think so, because I'm trying very hard to help you. Edward (nervouslv). It's getting rather late, isn't it ? Ann. Don't spoil things, Mr. Englishman — let them soak in awhile. I'd love you to know there's just one woman you've met who's taught you just a little about women. Edward. Would you mind teUing me some more ? (Sniffing her hair.) ANN. 31 Ann (aftev a little silent chuckle). Do you know something ? Edward. No, tell me. (Sniffing.) Ann. You'll never divulge it to a living soul if I tell you ? Edward (rather priggishly). Are you sure it's something that you should tell me ? Ann (mock seriousness). I feel that I can trust you. Edward. If you are quite sure that you won't regret telling me — do : you may trust me — utterly. (Sniffing.) Ann (impressively). Weil — it's disgraceful, but I paid five and a half dollars a bottle for that perfume you're so rapturously inhaling from my hair. Edward (straightening up awkivardly). Really, as much as that ! Ann (laughs merrily). Oh, Mr. Enghshman, you're too good to be true. What's the girl's name ? Edward. Evangeline. Ann. About the only romantic thing about her. Edward. What's your name ? Ann (conteniptuously). Ann. The least romantic thing about me. Edward (trying to he polite). Ann — it's Ann. No, it isn't. It's a fool-name — reminiscent of old-m^aid aunts ! Edward. I don't think so. Ann. It is. What's your name ? Edward. Edward. Ann. I guess we're not a very romantic combina- tion in names. Edward (dreamily). No. Ann. Listen ! (There is a long pause.) You'd love to kiss me, wouldn't you? Edward. My dear girl ! ! ! — I mean Ann. I'm not saying I'd let you. Edward. I — I didn't say I wanted to. Ann. Then don't. (Face close to his, and looking straight at him.) 32 ANN. Edward (nervously). I won't. Ann. You mustn't ! [Putting her mouth close to his.) Edward {without moving). How could I ? [Looks at Evangeline's picture awkwardly.) Ann [laughing). How could you ! Oh, my, Mr. Englishman, I like you. (Edward suddenly looks at his watch and rises.) What's the matter ? Edward. Suppose my dear old dad comes in and finds you here ? Ann. Oh joy — oh rapture ! Edw^-^rd [comes c.) I wonder what the mater would say. Ann. I think she'd just love it. [Rises.) Edward. I believe you're right. Ann. Honestly, am I helping you, or would you hke me to go ? [Comes l.c.) Edward. I wouldn't like you to go, but you must ! Ann. Why ? Edward. Because — because — hang it all ! I — I Ann [leading Edward to photo of Evangeline). What do you suppose she would think if she saw us ? Edward. Evangeline ? (Ann nods her head solemnly.) Heaven alone knows ! Ann (l.). I'll tell you. Edward. What ? Ann. She'd just be ignorantly — shocked ! Edward. Ignorantly ! Ann. a woman who'd say " yes " over a tele- phone, would be ignorantly shocked. She'd jump to conclusions like a very active kangaroo. Edward. How much did you say that scent cost ? ANN. 33 Ann (sharply). You're not thinking of giving " Prunes " any, are you ? Edward. No, no, not " Prunes " — I mean, Vangy. Ann (decidedly). I couldn't stand for that. Edward. I only thought I'd like to have some myself. Ann (brighlly). I'll send you a bottle (close to Edward.) for a wedding present. (Crosses up to window.) I must go. Edward. Oh, I say, don't go yet ! Ann. I must. I want to write you up while you're fresh in my mind. Edward. You're never going to ! Ann (up c). It's been a very interesting inter- — {Lilt bell.) rxZy*-^^- '^^-n^ Edward (as he hears some ^one outside). Good l^^^^ Lord, there's my dad ! (Rushing over to door r.) Ann (smiling). I'd just love to meet him. Edward (at door r.). But you — I mean — good Heavens, if he found you here ! I say, what the deuce — look here, d'ypu mind going ? Ann (going to window). Of course. Edward (going towards her hurriedly). No, no ! He'll see you there from the staircase. Ann (enjoying his panic). Well, in there. (Going towards bedroom.) Edward {rushes towards her and stops c. up stage). No, no, not there, that's my — my Ann (under standingly) . Oh, that's all right. (As she exits.) I'll just make some notes on an English author's bedroom. (Exit Ann l.) (Enter Dean r.) Edward (nervously). Hullo, dad. I'd 34 ANN. Dean (beaminoly). My dear lad ! Edward. I thought you'd gone to bed. I — I — was just turning in- Dean{r.c.). Yourmother has toldme. I couldn't possibly retire without {Taking his hand.) offering you i^y warmest congratulations. God bless you, my boy. Edward (l.c, unenthusiastically). Thank you, dad! Dean. Your dear mother and I are indeed thank- ful to Providence for this sudden fulfilment of our mast earnest wishes Edward. I thought you said there was plenty of time. [Down l.) Dean. Did I ? Ah, yes, to be sure. But we're grateful it has not been longer. Evangeline is a girl With a thousand — I mean, in a thousand. Edward. She is ! Dean. Her income, with yours — but there, we must not expatiate on the loaves and fishes. They are there ! Suffice it to know — they are there ! Edward. Of course, you know, I don't love Evangeline in quite the conventional sense. Dean (impressively, and coming over to Edward l.). My dear boy, your mother and I fully appreciate your difficulties — difficulties inherited possibly from my- self. Between ourselves — entirely between ourselves — I never loved your dear mother in quite the con- ventional sense. But look at the result. Edward [smothering a laugh). Yes, dad ! Dean (sermonizing) . Harmony ! Complete har- mony, based on common sense and daily inter- course. Edward. I wonder if ^ Dean (sermonically). Intimacy, intimacy, m}^ dear boy, intimacy is the soil for a common sense matrriage ! In intimacy the little seed of love takes root slowly but surely. In intimacy it blossoms forth hke a grain of mustard seed. ANN. 35 5 (During this speech, Edward makes repeated little attempts to stop the Dean.) Edward {sigh.s). Yes, dad — er — you said all that last Sunday ! Dean. Did I ? Well, there — there— we'll defer discussing the ethics of love and marriage until you have become a little more intimate. Now, I must go to bed {Pausing.) Dear me, what a delicious perfume there is in the room. (He sniffs.) Delicious ! Edward {starts). Yes ! Dean. I never noticed it before I went out. Edward. No — no — you wouldn't. It's a — a — new hair- wash I'm trying. Dean {up stage r., delighted). Hair- wash ! My boy, I must try it — it's delicious ! Could you let me have a little ? I suffer slightly from dryness of the scalp-. (Dean goes towards bedroom. EdWx\rd jumps over settee and stops him.) Edward. It's very bad for that. {Bringing him down L.) Dean (l.c). A pity — a pity — a great pity. Well, good-night, my boy ! Good-night and God bless you, and keep you from all temptation. {On the word " temptation," Edward turns his head and gives a quick look towards bedroom L.) Edward. Good-night, dad ! Dean {by the door). You're quite sure that hair- wash does induce dryness ? Edward. Quite, dad, quite ! Dean. Pity — great pity ! I must get your dear mother to use it first. Good-night. {Exit Dean r.) (Edward carefully shuts the door, then sits c. and mops 36 ANN. his face with his handkerchief . Enter Ann l., note- hook in hand, smilingly intent on what she has put down.) Ann. Well ? (Coming c.) Edward [starting up and creeping over to door r.). We must be careful ! My dad came in to congratu- late me. Ann (enigmatically). Maybe ! (Goes l.c.) Edward (l.c). "Maybe"? I don't quite Ann (shutting him up). Never mind. I've made some lovely copy out of your bedroom. Edward (staggered). Copy out of my bedroom ? {Up stage R.) Ann (suddenly amused). " Notes on an English Author's Bedroom." (Referring to notebook.) " Doesn't use a comb. Doesn't get his suit pressed often enough. Doesn't use hair-wash. Boots very badly cleaned — query, does he do it himself ? " Do you ? Edward. Yes. Ann. I thought so. It's an art in my country. Edward (a trifle indignant). Indeed ? (Down R.C.\ Ann (referring to hook). " Doesn't wear sleeping suits." (To Edward.) You must look cute in that flannelette night-shirt. Edward. Look here, I call this simply outrage- ous ! Ann. So do I ! Artistically outrageous ! Edward (almost speechless). I — I say (Up stage.) Ann (coolly). You'd wear sleeping suits if I married you. Edward. Don't be indelicate ! (Up hy window.) Ann (steadily). Prunes probably won't mind. Edward. Well, I Ann (closing hook). It will work up nicely into a half column. ANN. 37 Edward. You never mean to say you're going to publish all these details ! (Down to chair.) /"^ Ann. You bet your dear life I am ! ( Crossin g^ i ^) Edward lirp to window.) > ^ "Edward (desperately). What about — I mean, "x you — I say, vou won't put in the conversation we had Ann (up stage r.c. Meaningly and seriously). I trust I quite understand the meaning of true deUcacy. Edward (down l.C; rather crushed) . I'm — I'm so awfully sorry. Ann (coming right down to him, and looking up in his face). Ba-by ! (Upward inflection.) Ebwarb .(staring at her). By Jove, you're an amazing girl ! Ann. Tell me — have I helped you ? Edward. I'd love you to meet my mother. Ann. And I'd just love to meet her. Edward. Couldn't you come in to-morrow ? Ann. Bully ! (Down r.) But how are you going to explain me ? Edward (doubtfully). Hum ! Ann (exactly the same inflection). Hum ! Edward. I tell you what ! (Sits on arm of chair c.) Send up your card and ask for an interview. They'll think no end of it. Ann. Is she going to be there—" Prunes and Prisms " ? Edward. Yes, I'm afraid " Prunes " — (jumping up) — I mean " Prisms " — I mean Vangy will be here. Ann. I'd love to come. (Crosses to mantel l. and looks at Evangeline's photo.) I'd just love to see the girl you're not going to marry. Edward. " Not going to marry " ? A.N'ii(decisively) . I'm going to help you right out of it. Edward. What do you mean ? (Sits on chair c.) Ann (sits on r. arm of settee). I simply refuse to allow it. Look here, you've struck an awful snag ! Edward. A snag ? 38 ANN. Ann. Yes — you're just like a nice, new, white- sailed vessel that's never known a real tough breeze. Don't you see you're built for storms and headwinds and the mastering of them ; not just the calm waters of a summer day ? Here you are, saihng out to sea, and in sheer ignorance of how to navigate your own course you've hit a snag ! (With a little laugh.) The little tug " American Ann " is going to tow you off — • right into harbour. [She takes hold of Edward's two hands and pulls him round and down R.) Edward. Yes, but why do 3'Ou want to do this ? (Taking away his hands and backing a step.) (Warni7ig for curtain.) Ann (to herself — aloud). Shall I tell him ? Edward (eagerly). Yes. Ann (crisply). No, perhaps I'd better not. (Goes up stage to window, gets on to seat and out on balcony.) Edward (up to her). But I want to know ! Ann (on balcony). Oh, do you ? {Rather cheekily.) Edward (still more eager). Yes ! Ann (tantalizingly) . You'd really like to know ? (Hands each side of window.) Edward (very strong). Please ! Ann. Well, maybe ! Edward (breathless with interest). Yes — "May- be " ? Ann. Maybe I'll marry you myself ! (Ann disappears quickly, laughing, to r. Edward rushes up to window, and leans far out, looking after her.) (Curtain.) (End of Act I.) ACT II Scene. — Same as Act I. A7t afternoon tea-table set for tea, stands c. in front of armchair. Fire lighted. At rise of curtain the stage is empty. Enter Edward R- He comes to settee with parcel, and takes o-ff hat and gloves. Opens parcel, takes out pyjamas, tries them on, opens bottle of hair-wash, shakes some on hand and compares it with cushion. Rises, looks every- where for comb and at last finds it in his inner coat pocket. Shakes hair-wash on hair, then goes to fireplace and elaborately parts hair. Then gathers things up and goes off L. Returns immediately and comes to desk. Gets duster and dusts boots. Sees five cups on table, counts on his fingers then goes tv book-case and gets extra cup, dusts it with same duster. Sees what he is doing, is horrifiied, takes cup back to bookcase and changes it for another. Gets kettle from window and puts it on hob. Takes photo of EvanCxE- LiNE, dusts it, puts it back, sits on settee, smells cushion. Looks at photo, puts his hat oriand exits {Exit Edward r.) ; ' '" {Enter Ann from window with bundle. She puts things on armchair. Takes slippers up and puts them under chair R. Blouse on chair L. of desk, stockings under cushion R. of settee, nightdress under cushion l. of settee. Takes candy from one of the dishes and pops it in her mouth.) 40 ANN. Ann (c). I guess that will about do it— Maybe ! [Exit Ann hy window r.) (Enter Billy and Edward r. Billy goes over to L.C.) Edward (r.c). JoHy glad you've turned up. Why didn't you look in last night ? Billy (l.c). Well, I saw your dad to the door, and then I bolted back to make some rough sketches.. {Sniffs the air.) Edward. They ought to be here soon. Billy (sniffing). What the — I say, who's been (Sniffs.) Can't you smell something ? (Sniffs.) Edward (nervously). Smell? Smell what? Billy. Scent. Ripping good scent, too ! (Snif- Edward (sniffing.) Now you mention it — I — I think I do. (Duster to nose.) (Bus. : Billy indicates duster. Edward throws it away iznih an exclamation of disgust.) Billy (suspiciously). I say, Teddy, who's been paying you a visit ? Edward (uneasily) Paying me a visit ? Billy. You don't mean to say you've done it ! Edward. Done what ? Billy. Edward, I believe you're a dark old horse after all. Edward (rather confused). Don't be an ass. (Crossing to fireplace.) Billy (tracking scent to settee). Warm ! Warmer ! Warmer ! Teddy, she's been sitting here / (Sitting on settee.) Edward (desperately). Look here, old man, I'll tell you, but for heaven's sake keep it to yourself. Billy (grinning). Now we're talking ! Edward. Last night after you were gone. I pro- posed to — er ■ ANN. 41- Billy {astonished). Proposed? Who to? Edward {taking up photo). I proposed to Evange- line. Billy. Evangeline ? When did she turn up ? Edward. Well, the fact of the matter is, I did it over the telephone. Billy. Ygu would ! Edward. And she accepted me. Billy. The deuce she did. Edward. The mater was delighted. Dear old mater ! Billy. Yes, but what I want to know is — 'when did the scent come in ? Edward. Later ! Billy. Later ! {With a grin.) Gather round ! Edward. After I'd seen the mater upstairs to her fiat, I walked in here and found Billy {excitedly). The girl with the scent ? Edward. Exactly ! Billy. Immense 1 Edward. She came through the window. Billy {astounded, looks round at window R.). What ! Edward. From the next flat along the fire escape. Billy. And you sent her back home again like a good little boy ? {Pats Edward on shoulder.) Edward {indignantly). No, I jolly well didn't. Billy. You didn't ! {Springs up and grasps Edward's hand with fervour.) Edward, old man, my warmest and sincerest congratulations. {Shaking hands v igorously . ) Edward. Don't be an ass. {Crossing to r.c.) She was only a mad American — a newspaper reporter ; and, incidentally, the girl I lugged out of the water at Henley. Billy. What ! That topping little girl a news- paper reporter ? Edward. I suppose it accounts for her eccentric behaviour. 42 ANN. Billy. My dear old chap, the more attractive the girl the more eccentric can she become to the unso- phisticated male mind. Edward. Can she ? {Goes up to desk at back c, gets golf club and sand paper.) Billy. Yes ! It's all the outcome of habit. Woman is a habit. She may be a bad habit or a good habit — but she's always a habit. Edward. Eh ? {Coming down r.c.) Billy. Lucky devil — what a delightful lot of things you've got to learn about the habit ! Edward (r.c, polishing golf -stick). I wish to good- ness I'd started investigations earlier in life. I found her very instructive Billy. No, old man, not instraciive — never apply the term instructive to a woman nowadays. Edward. Why not ? Billy. Because, my dear old chap, the only term to apply to a woman nowadays is destructive — or constructive — or obstructive — but never instructive ! However, you found little Stars and Stripes interest- ing ? Edward. She was — very interesting ; and I asked her to tea to meet the mater. Billy {knowingly). Oh, did you ? Edward {trying to explain things away). Yes, I thought I ought to be polite. {Comes R.c.) Billy. Of course ! [Of course ! {Bursts out laughing.) I say, have you told Evangeline about this ? Edward. Good Lord, no ; she'd never under- stand — ^I mean, not yet. Billy. Edward, I'm sure you are a dark old horse after all. Edward. Oh, rot ! Now remember, I shall pre- tend not to know her, except as an interviewer. Billy. Of course — of course ! {Bursts out laugh- ing at Edward.) Edward. And I wish to goodness you wouldn't ANN. 43 try to imply anything that isn't— I mean, that doesn't — doesn't Billy {breaking in). Don't stutter, old man ; you're only giving yourself away. Anything that isn't suggested by one of the most delicate and expensive perfumes on the market. Edward. Oh, shut up ! {Goes down r.) Billy. I say, Teddy, have you seen Evangeline since she accepted you ? Edward. No, she's coming to tea this afternoon. I couldn't see her this morning — busy this morning — publishers this morning. Billy. Oh, she's coming to tea this afternoon ? And the little American girl is coming to tea this after- noon ? Well, of course, I quite see I'm going to have the afternoon of my life. {Rises and goes to fireplace. Stands with back to fire, laughing.) {A knock at the door.) Edward. There she is, I expect. {Very pleased.) Billy {laughing). Yes, " there she is " ;— er — which one ^ Edward {downcast). " Which one " ? {Pause.) Oh, I'll see. (Edward goes to door r. and opens it. Enter Evange- line. She stands just inside door.) Edward. Oh, how do you do ? Evangeline {to Edward — primly). How do you do ? {To Billy.) How do you do ? {Stiffly.) Oh, I think I'm too early. {Crosses front of Edward to R.c.) Edward. No, no— not at all — Billy's here to chaperone us. Evangeline. Oh, perhaps I'd better wait outside for Mrs. Hargraves. Billy {to Evangeline ; rather nervously— obviously afraid of her). It's air right. Miss Lipscomb; I'm 44 ANN. here, and — you're here — and — er — we're all there — er — I mean, we're all here ! I'll just nip up and let Mrs. Hargraves know you are here. How d'you do, again ! (Shakes hands with Evangeline, and crosses her, so that he is between her and Edward. He notices Edward and suddenly remembers his manners.) Oh, I'm so sorry — quite forgot. Hearty Congrats., and — er — -many happy returns and a merry Christmas ■ (Exit Billy pushed out by Edward, quickly r.) (Evangeline goes over to l.c.) Edward. Oh, w^on't you sit down ? (Evangeline sits on settee.) Is father well ? Evangeline. Papa is quite well, thank you. Edward. Thank yow. (Pause.) (Very nervously.) Won't vou take off your — er — funny little pale blue waist-coat ? Evangeline. No, thanks — it's a little chilly for summer. Edward (nervous). Chilly — oh, yes, yes, that's why I had a hre. (Crosses to window up l. and shuts it.) There ! Evangeline (after sniffing cushion). How ex- ceedingly disgusting ! Edward ! Edward. Yes (Pause.) Dear heart. (Com- ing down from unndow to just above settee.) Evangeline. D'you like scent, Edward ? Edward. Yes — no — yes — no, I mean, yes — 5ome scent. (Down to back of tea-table.) Evangeline. I don't like scent, Edward — you'd better know it at once. Edward. Yes — yes, of course ; er — I'll make a note of it. (There is a very awkward pause.) ANN. 45 Evangeline. I suppose you're very shy now ? Edward {with slight nervous laugh and absently picking up tea-spoon from table). I'm, well, you see — it's — the first occasion ; and the first occasion is always a trifle tricky. Evangeline (deliberately putting up veil). Don't you think you ought to kiss me ? (Edward drops spoon into tray It's usual, isn't it ?. C-^-lL^t-^ Edward. Oh yes, of course. I mean t^^ (Comes round front of tea-table and sits beside Evange- line.) Evangeline. It's usual when people are engaged, isn't it ? Edward. Yes. (Evangeline turns her head round, and puts out her mouth to Edward, who, with one finger on her cheek, pushes her head gently round again.) Edward. For the present, I think (Kisses her.) For the present (Pause.) Thank you. (Vigorously polishes golf -stick.) Evangeline. (Bus. hand on his to stop him). I'm so glad you've been honest with me — that's really why I accepted you. You know I don't believe in love — I mean, not the sihy sort one reads about — we've discussed it so often. Your book was wrong in places about women, but you're perfectly right, I'm convinced, in the love-scenes. Edward (a little startled). Everybody thinks that is just where the book is weak. Now, last night, Ann (Pulls himself up in confusion.) (Bus. ivith emery paper and candy.) Evangeline. I like the calm sensible way you make your heroine behave. I think I may have helped you without your knowing it. 46 ANN. Edward. Perhaps you have. (Bus. with golf- stick.) Evangeline (Bus. with hand). I think it was so clever of you to write about a honeymoon as you did and that passage about an engagement : " His hps touched her cheek for one brief moment " — (Touches hev own cheek where Edward has kissed her.) So true ! Edward (surprised). Do 3'ou think so ? Evangeline. It shows me so clearly that you have genius. Edward (more surprised). Genius ! Of, yes, of course, genius — genius. (Rather conceitedly. Bus. with golf -stick.) Evangeline (stopping him). Edward, don't do that ! Yes ! A genius can always write brilliantly, even in cold blood, on an}' subject, however inexperi- enced he happens to be. I think it was wonderful how you got it right. Edward (turning round to her). But n^as it right ? Evangeline. Right — of course it was ! Edward. How on earth do you know ? Evangeline (greatly confused). Oh, well, I — I — of course, I mean it sounded right (Desperately .) Well, how did you know ? Edward. Oh, / made it all up ! Evangeline. I'm glad. Edward. Glad — why ? Evangeline. Because if I'd thought that this had been from an actual experience — I might have .been jealous. Edward (awkwardly). Oh — well you — I don't think you have any cause — (pause) — dear one ! Evangeline. It has always seemed to me that a really good woman should be as jealous of a man's past as of his future. Edward. Ouite so. ANN. 47 Evangeline. A good wife should always be jealous, Edward. Edward. Seems a trifle early Victorian, don't it ? (Rises, comes c.) Evangeline. Certainly not. I was always brought up to believe that real love should never be free from jealousy ! Edward {a little dreamily). And I'd begun to hope it was free from everything save Love. Evangeline. I hope you aren't becoming senti- mental. Edward. I wonder if you know what sentiment means ? (Voices heard off R.) Ah, there's the mater. Evangeline. Oh, I'm so glad. (Ent:r Mrs. Hargraves r.. followed by the Dean and Billy.) Mrs. Kargraves. My dear boy, I'm afraid we're late. (Crosses l.c. to Evangeline.) My child, I must apologize. (Kisses her.) You've made us so happy. (Crosses to settee.) Evangeline. I'm so glad ! Dean (c to Evangeline). My dear— God bless you. I'm overjoyed to think my son has such a suitable helpmeet. (Solemnly.) A Ruth to any Boaz ! (Sits in chair l. corner.) Evangeline (with much drawl). Oh, thank you so much. Billy (r.c). Oh ! Now we're all merry and bright ! Now perhaps Edward'll be able to write about women. Evangeline. I think he does, Mr. Lloyd. (Sits on settee r. end.) Billy, much subdued, turns up stage R.. almost immediately afterwards sitting R.) 48 ANN. Mrs. Hargraves. But you'll teach him many things a nice girl alone can teach. {They all settle themselves as they talk. Dean in chair down L. Mrs. Hargraves on the settee. Evange- line hy her side. Billy in chair r.) Dean. I do trust your dear father will be dehghted. Evangeline. I'm sure of it. Aunt was so pleased when I told her last night. Mrs. Hargraves {drily). Was she ? {To change the subject.) Isn't that kettle boiling — I'm dying for tea. Edward {going to fireplace with tea-pot). I think it is. {To Evangeline.) Won't you pour it out, — {pause) — dear one ? Evangeline. Oh, Mrs. Hargraves ought to do that. (Billy discovers Ann's slippers under his chair and picks them up.) Mrs. Hargraves. My dear, I simply loathe pour- ing out tea — a parson's wife invariably does. Billy {coming down r. with slippers). Hallo, who's been leaving their slippers about ? Evangeline. They're a girl's. Billy {cheerfully). Yes, aren't they ? Evangeline {looks witheringly at Billy, then takes one slipper from him and passes it to Mrs. Hargraves ; then takes the other slipper.) Mrs. Hargraves. So they are — how extraordin- ary ! Edward {at fireplace, with kettle, to Mrs. Har- graves). I expect they're yours, old darling. (He has his hack to them as he bends to pour water into kettle.) Dean. They don't appear to be your size, my dear ! Mrs. Hargraves. No— they certainly are not my sHppers. ANN. 49 Edward. But who on earth's could they be if they're not yours, mater ? {Brings tea-pot and kettle in front to tea-table c.) Mrs. Hargraves {laughing). My dear boy, how on earth can I tell you ? {Sits.) Evangeline. A very small foot, too. (Edward crosses to Dean l.) Dean {taking the other). Very small indeed — very, very small indeed ; almost Chinese. (Edward takes one slipper from Dean and crosses R.c. and stands l. of Billy.) Evangeline. No, American. {Stands above tea- table and pours out tea.) (Edw^\rd starts.) Billy {brightly). I know ! Perhaps the char lady left them. {Knock outside R. door.) Edward (c). I wonder who that is ? Billy (r.c.). Haven't the least idea, old chap. Perhaps it's the owner of the slippers. {Bursts out laughing and goes up to window.) Edward. Don't be an ass, Bill. I'll see, dad, I'll see. (Edward opens door r. and enter Ann. She is very smartly dressed. She pretends not to know Edv^ard.) Ann {just inside door). Are these Mr. Edward Hargarves' Chambers ? Edward. Yes, I am Hargraves. Ann. The author of ''Hannah's Honeym.oon ? " (Mrs. Hargraves places shoe on settee.) Edward. Yes. Ann. I'm an American newspaper woman and I just came to write you up. I wonder if you will be so kind as to grant me an interview ? D 50 ANN. Edward. Oh, won't you come in ? (Bus. indicat- ing room ii'ith kettle in left hand — show in right hand.) Ann. Oh. but I see 3^ou have a party ! Perhaps I. had better come again. Edward. We shall be delighted, shan't we, mater ? Mrs. Margraves (rising). Do come in, Miss ■ {Advances c.) Ann. Anning. {Comes r.c. and shakes Jiands with Mrs. Margraves.) (Billy snatclies shoe from Edward, and puts it away at hack.) I'm really pleased to meet the mother of so great an author. Mrs. Margraves. You're very kind, Miss Anning. This is my husband. (Ann goes over l. to the Dean.) Dean. Charmed, my dear young lady, to make your acquaintance. My son is indeed honoured. {Shakes hands.) Mrs. Margraves. This is my future daughter-in- latw, Miss Lipscombe. Ann {to Evangeline). How very interesting ! Aren't you just proud of him ? {Shaking hands with Evangeline very vigorously, and with both hands.) Evangeline {rather haughtily, and taking her hands away). Why, of course ! {Sits in chair c.) Edward {bringing Billy by arm round to c.). This is my old pal, Billy — black-and-white artist — you must write him up. (Bus. spilling water from kettle.) Ann. Very pleased to know you, Mr. Billy. {They shake hands.) Mrs. Margraves. Now. Miss Anning, I'm sure you'd Uke some tea before ■ Ann. I'd just love it ! {To Billy.) Vm crazy about your English tea-habit. ANN. 51 (Billy goes to r. of tea-table. Evangeline gives him cup of tea for Dean, also indicates cake-stand. Billy takes tea to Dean.) Mrs. Margraves. Do sit down. (Mrs. Hargraves sits l. end of settee. Ann sits r. end.) Ann {to Evangeline). Oh, what am I sitting on ? A real American shoe, by the looks of it. Evangeline. Is it ? We were wondering ■ Mrs Hargraves. The fact is, Miss Anning, a most curious thing happened just before ■ [To Edward n^Jio hands her tea.) Thank you, son — a most curious thing happened before (Billy hands her cake.) No, thank you. Mr. Lloyd. (Billy retires witJi cake-stand.) As I was saying — a most curious — — Kdward (interrupting). Excuse me, mother. Miss Anning — one ? Two ? Ann. Three, please. Mrs. Hargraves. That shoe is a mystery. Ann. Really ? You don't say so ? Mrs. Hargraves. Yes. we found a pair of them here this — — Edward. Miss Anning ! Cake ? Bread ? But- ter ? Billy ? Billy ! (Billy runs round l. with cake-stand.) Ann. No, thank you. (Billy retires crushed.) I think I'd like,, just a candy. (Edward looks at Ann inquiringly.) A sweet. 62 ANN. (Edward hands plate of sweets.) Ann. I'm so sorry I interrupted you ! Mrs. Hargraves. These shoes were found here in my son's rooms, and there's no explaining their presence. Ann. Indeed — now that's very interesting. It will make a great headhne. Omnes. a headhne ? Mrs. Hargraves. A headhne ? I don't under- stand ! Edward (by tea-table — meaningly). You wouldn't be so cruel, Miss Anning ? Ann. It would just sell the book like anything, Mr. Hargraves. Dean [putting cup down on fender). Sell the book ? How could the slippers sell the book ? {Taking Mrs. Hargraves' cup and putting it down on fender.) Ann. Why, yes ; interviewer finds English Author perplexed. Who left her American footware behind ? Evangeline {haughtily). You wouldn't be so vulgar ! Ann. Vulgar ! My dear Miss Lipscomb, why vulgar ? There's nothing vulgar in a slipper. Mrs. Hargraves {pleasantly). I think. Miss Anning, it might be as well if you suppressed this little incident. Ann. Of course, I will if you hke ; {to Edward) but how did they get here, Mr. Hargraves ? {Giving her cup to Edward.) Edward {meaningly). I can't think ! I can't think ! {Stands c., drinking from Ann's cup.) Ann. It's quite a predicament — a modern Cin- derella and her shppers. (During the preceding speech, Evangeline has put her cup down and re-arranged the cushions — in doing so, she noiv unearths the lace blouse.) Evangeline. Oh, what am I crushing ? ANN. 53 Ann {taking blouse and holding it tip). Just the loveliest skirtvvaist in the world. Mrs. Hargraves. Good Heavens ! {Takes blouse from Ann.) Dean {taking blouse from Mrs. Hargraves). God bless my soul ! Edward. What in Heaven's name ! Evangeline. It's a woman's blouse ! {Rising and getting r.c.) Ann. It's too cunning for anything ! Billy {convulsed). Edward, you'd look topping in it. Evangeline. Edward — what does it mean ? Dean. It's really very, very extraordinary. Evangeline. Very ! Mrs. Hargraves. My dear boy ■ {She laughs.) You haven't been buying Evangehne's trousseau ? (Billy bursts out laughing.) Edwvvrd. Of course not, mater. Ann {quite seriously). I never was so tempted in all my life. {Everybody looks at her. Mrs. Hargraves laughs softly.) Omnes. Tempted ! Evangeline. Tempted ! What do you mean ? Ann. Just think of the copy I can't use — it's worth at least two hundred and fifty dollars. Evangeline. Miss Anning, I can't see any joke in this at all ! You appear to forget that I am engaged to Mr. Hargraves. Ann. I wish I could forget it ; when I think of all the copy just throwing itself at me (Ann picks up cushion and discloses stockings, which Mrs. Har- graves picks up.) Billy. By Jove, another find ! Mrs. Hargraves {collapsing into uncontrollable mirth). Mv dear Edward, an enemv has done this ! 54 ANN. Dean. But what are they ? {Takes stockings from Mrs. Hargraves.) What on earth ! Evangeline {severely). They're stockings ! Ann. Looks like a real bully pair of French silk ! (Edward stands choking.) Evangeline {to Billy). If you did this as a practical joke, Mr. Lloyd, let me tell you it's exceed- ingly horrid of you. Billy. Oh, I say, do I look as if I could ? Mrs. Hargraves {laughing). On your honour, Billy ? {Goes c, then up stage r.c.) Billy. I've never seen such things before ! (Explodes with laughter, turns up a little, then down again.) (Evangeline and Mrs. Hargraves at window.) Ann, Say, this is just too cute for anything. D'you know, the situation alone, cabled in a dozen words to the Associated Press, would work up into a corking three column story. Dean {stiffly). Personally, I think this beyond a joke, madam. That this feminine — I think one might Idc right in describing this as intimate feminine attire — has been discovered in my son's room — is (Severely.) {Going up behind settee.) Edward, I must really in common decency — — (Ann moves over to l. end of\settce.) Evangeline (furious). Don't ask him to explain ! It's absolutely outrageous — outrageous ! ! Ann. I think if I were engaged to a man. Miss Lipscomb, I should feel a bit like that myself. Mrs. Hargraves. Edward, have you no idea where those things came from ? {Ann places cushion behind her back, disclosing nighty.) Dean {snappishly). No reasonable explanation of their appearances ? Edward. None at all ! ANN. 5^ (Ann deliberately , without looking at it, moves night- dress farther down on to seat.) Mrs. Hargraves. Well, my dear boy, don't look so fearfully tragic. It's just some foolish joke ! Evangeline. Joke ! Ann {unearthing the nightdress and showing it). My ! ! ! ! Picture : (Dean holds nightdress by one end, Ann by the other, Edward sinks into chair c.) Evangeline {sternly, to Edward). Edward, you know what that is ? Dean {taking it from xAnn). It appears to be. • Mrs. Hargraves. It's a very lovely one ! Ann. Now, a nighty like that would cost at least thirty-five dollars. Evangeline. Well, I must say good-bye, Mrs. Hargraves. {Holding out her hand to Mrs. Har- graves.) Mrs. Hargraves. My dear Evangeline, don't be ridiculous ! Don't go ! Evangeline. I'm very, very sorr^-, but it's quite impossible for me to — to (To Edward) Oh, can't you see ? Edward {rises). But, hang it all — it isn't mine! I mean— I don't know where— — Dean. But surely you have some theory — this garment is Well, it is ! ! ! Billy {to Ann). What's your theory, Miss Ann ing ? Ann. Well, as a stranger, I don't know that I ought to say anything ; but it seems to me to be a very big tragedy for you, Mr. Hargraves. Edward {with suppressed rage). Oh, it's just some feeble — joke ! .Feeble ! Feeble ! {Turns up to win- doiv.) 56 ANK. Evangeline. I can stand no more ! Edward has behaved abominably ; will you see me home ? BiLLT {going up to Evangeline). Well, I think I go your w^ay Evangeline {turning on him furiously). Will you kindly mind your own business ? Billy {qtidte crushed). Perhaps you're right. {Exit Billy quickly R.) Dean. My dear, I quite understand. {Coming down to R. corner with Evangeline. Bus. ivith nightdress.) Edward. Evangeline ! (Coming down c.) Evangeline. Don't dare to say a word to me — I couldn't bear it Edward. Vangy ! Look here, I Mrs. HARGRAVES(commg down r.c. — significantly). Edward — I wouldn't ! Evangeline. Good-bye, Mrs. Hargraves ; good- bye. Miss Arming — I trust you will at least keep my name out of even an American paper. Ann (l.c). I'll do my very best, Miss Lipscomb, but it's a fearful temptation. Evangeline. Thank you. Mrs. Hargraves. Need we be so serious about a thing Uke this ? Dean. My dear, much as I regret it, I must side with Evangeline until some {Puts nightdress on table behind him.) Mrs. Hargraves. I can only trust to your kind- ness to prevent this becoming public property. Ann. Certainly, if you wish it. Edward. Dad, do 3/ou beUeve this of me ? {The Dean glares at Edward.) Mrs. Hargraves {rather amused). He does, Ed- ward — a good man always does. {The Dean looks at her.) ANN. 57 I said it, Samuel — a good man always does. (The Dean- is about to protest. Mrs. HarCxRAVes stops him.) And the better the man the worse he thinks. Dean. Well, upon my word ! Come, my dear • (Exeunt Dean, and Evangeline r.) Edward (to his mother) . Mater, you don't think Mrs. Hargraves (with a laugh). My dear boy, knowing you as long as I have, how could I think ! Edward, give Miss Anning some more tea. (Edward goes up and puts golf-stick in bag.) (To Ann.) And while you're interviewing my son, I'll just take these incriminating garments to my room. (Edward comes down behind c. to fender.) Ann (starts as if she was going to say something)- Mr. Hargraves, are you really in a fit condition to be interviewed ? Mrs. Hargraves (r.c). Of course he is. I hope you'll call on me again ; and, Miss Anning, don't tell him his novel is wonderful, because it isn't. Good-bye ! Ann (impulsively). Mrs. Hargraves, may I say just how much I like you ? Mrs. Hargraves. Thank you. Ann. Not one mother in a thousand would have behaved like you did. Mrs. Hargraves. Miss Anning, I've been a par- son's wife since — the flood ! But I'm still a woman of the world. (Going to door R.) Don't forget I want you to call on me. (At door.) I'm eighty- seven — up above ! (Exit Mrs. Hargraves door r.) 58 ANN. {A pause. Edward is lookin<^ ajigrily irdo fire. Ann looks at him icith mock apprehension.) Ann (down r.). Guess you'll never want another American girl at your tea parties again ? Edward (turning). Your conduct is past criti- cism Ann (runs over to Chesterfield a7td sits on hack — R. end — with feet on the seat). Oh, Mr. Englishman, do please get really angry. Edward. I am angry — very angry ! Ann. I really don't wonder. Edward. To think that you, of all women, could stoop to do a Ann. Am I never to be forgiven ? (Hands to- gether.) Edward. You've shocked Evangeline. Ann. Wasn't it better for her to be shocked now than afterwards ? Edward. A nice, v/ell-spoken little girl like that — oh, it's abominable. Ann (clapping her hands). Mr. Englishman, you're just lovely when your beautiful pride has been injured. Edward. What do you mean ? Ann. You didn't mind last night about Evange- line when — ^when you were sitting right here. Edward. " Last night " ! I was mad last night ! Mad — mad ! (Crossing to c.) Ann. When daylight dawns, and everything be- comes unromantic, we just become self-conscious and afraid, don't we, Mr. Englishman ? (Getting off sofa.) Edward. Look here (marching over to Ann, z£;ho sits on chair down L.) It's all jolly line arguing, but those — those things of yours are extremely difficult to explain away. Ann (coolly). That's why I chose them. Edward. What am I to do ? What in Heaven's name am I to do ? (Crosses R. and up.) ANN. 59 Ann. Why, do anything ? Your moral character is unassailable. Edward {coming down c). You leave my morals out of it ! Ann. Why try to explain them away ? Edward. But that won't help Evangeline. She'll never believe Ann. Didn't I tell you she'd be ignorantly shocked ? Edward. You can't deny she had some reason ? Ann (significantly). Your mother only laughed! {Rises, comes c.) Edward {turns and stares at her). So she did ! Ann. And I thought your mother was about the only person who counted. Edward. Oh, it's no good argunig — you've got me into a hole ^^^^ Ann {interrupting quickly). And got you out of another one. /

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