y FaDDg anH M Servant PnmieiD BY JEROME K. JEROME SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West 38th St, New York BILLETED. A comedy In 3 acts, by F. Tennison Jesse and H. Harwood. 4 males, 5 females. One easy interior scene. A charming comedy, constructed with uncommon skill, and abounds with clever lines. Margaret Anglin's big success. Amateurs will find this comedy easy to produce and popular with all audiences. Price, €0 Cents. NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. A comedy in 3 acts. By James Montgomery. 5 males, 6 females. Cos- tumes, modern. Two interior scenes. Plays 2J^ hours. Is it possible to tell the absolute truth — even for twenty-four hours? It is— at least Bob Bennett, the hero of "Nothing But the Truth," accomplished the feat. The bet he made with his business partners, and the trouble he got into— with his partners, his friends, and his fiancee — this is the subject of William Collier's tremendous comedy hit. "Nothing But the Truth" can be whole-heartedly recommended as one of the most sprightly, amusing and popular comedies that this country can boast. Price, 60 Cents. IN WALKED JIMMY. A comedy in 4 acts, by Minnie Z. Jaffa. 10 males, 2 females (although any number of males and females may be used as clerks, etc.) Two '^ interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Plays 2J^ hours. The thing into j which Jimmy walked was a broken-down shoe factory, when the clerks J had all been fired, and when the proprietor was in serious contemplation of suicide. Jimmy, nothing else but plain Jimmy, would have been a mysterious figure had it not been for his matter-of-fact manner, his smile and his everlasting humanness. He put the shoe business on its feet, won the heart of the girl clerk, saved her emng brother from jail, escaped that place as a permanent boarding house himself, and foiled the villain. Clean, wholesome comedy with just a touch of human nature, just a dash of excitement and more than a little bit of true philosophy make "In Walked Jimmy" one of the most delightful of plays. Jimmy is full of the religion of life, the religion of happiness and the religion of helpfulness, and he so permeates the atmosphere with his "religion" that everyone is happy. The spirit of optimism, good cheer, and hearty laughter dominates the play. There is not a dull moment in any of the four acts. We strongly recommend it. Price, 60 Cents. MARTHA BY-THE-DAY. An optimistic comedy in three acts, by Julie M. Lippmann, author of the "Martha" stories. 5 males, 5 females. Three interior scenes. Cos- tumes modern. Plays 2H hours. It is altogether a gentle thing, this play. It is full of quaint humor, old- fashioned, homely sentiment, the kind that people who see the play will recall and chuckle over tomorrow and the next day. Miss Lippmann has herself adapted her very successful book for stage service, and in doing this has selected from her novel the most telling incidents, infectious comedy and homely sentiment for the play, and the result is thoroughly delightful. Price, 60 Cents. (The Above Are Sublect to Royalty When Produced) SAMUEL FRENCH* 28-30 West 38th Street. New York City Ifew and E^qjllclt Descriptive Catalog:ue Mailed Free on Request FANNY AND THE ^ Ml SERVANT PROBLEM ^^"""^ A Quite Possible Play in Four Acts \a.o-- JEROME E; JEROME vCOPYRIGHTv 190S, BY SAMUEL FRENCH, liTDu CAUTION : — Professionals and Amateurs are hereby warned that *' Fanny and the Servant Problem," being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States Government, is subject to royalty, and r.ny one presenting the play without the consent of the author, or his authorized agent, will be liable to the penalties by law provided. Applicaiiion for stage rights must be made to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York City. New York SAMUEL FRENCH PUBLISHER 28-30WEST 38th STREET London SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 26 Southampton Stkeet STRAND Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this book without a valid contract for production first having been obtained from the publisher, confers no right or license to professionals or amateurs to produce the play publicly or in private for gain or charity. In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only, and no performance, representation, produc- tion, recitation, or public reading may be given except by special arrangement with Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York. This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a royalty of Twenty-Five Dollars for each perform- ance, payable to Samuel French, 28-30 West 38th Street, New York, one week before the date when the play is given. Whenever the play is produced the following notice must appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the play: "Produced by special arrangement with Samuel French of New York." Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for any infringement of the author's rights, as follows. "Section 4966: — Any person publicly performing or rep- resenting any dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages thereof, such damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dol- lars for every subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and representation be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon con- viction shall be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one year."— U. S. Revised Statutes : Title 60, Chap. 3. \ \ 1 Z \ Produced at the Aldwych Theatre, London, on October 14, 1908, with the following cast: — CHARACTERS Fanny Miss Fanny Ward Vernon Wetherell, Lord Bantock Mr. Leslie Faber (Her Husband) Martin Bennet Mr. Chas. Cartwright (Her Butler) Susannah Bennet Miss Kate Phillips (Her Housekeeper) Jane Bennet Miss Alma Murray (Her Maid) Ernest Bennet Mr. Benedict (Her Second Footman) Honoria Bennet Miss Mabel Garden (Her Still-room Maid) TH. MISS.S W™... {^l^itTomMlson (Her Aunts by Marriage) Dr. Freemantle Mr. Chas. Sugden (Her Local Medical Man) **OuR Empire" — England Scotland Ireland Wales Canada Australia New Zealand Africa India Newfoundland Malay Archipelago . . , Straits Settlements. Miss Esme Beringer Miss Jean Harkness Miss Barbara Vivian Miss Lydia Flopp Miss Margaret Hastings Miss Miriam Miner Miss Vera Beringer Miss May Straker Miss Marion Ashley Miss Patsy McCtillock Miss Steivart Dawson Miss Daisy Markham George P. Newte M. John W. Dean (Her Former Business Manager) a, S o B a x) c o a The scene takes place in Fanny's boudoir »^iiuvj>v.rv iiali, Rutlandshire. « FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM " ACT I Scene, — Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire, Her boudoir, A handsome, well-lighted apartment in the south-west wing of the castle, furniture and decorations of the Louis XIV period. A deep hay, lighted by three high windows facing the south-west, occupies the right of the stage. The door at hack R. of fireplace leads to Lord Bantock's apartine-nts. The door in L, wing leads through her ladyship's dressing-room into her ladyship's bedroom. A large Adams fireplace, in which a cheerful wood fire burns, occupies the back C. Over it is the full length portrait of Constance, first Lady Bantock, by Hoppner. The furmture is handsome but simple — French with the exception of a small upright piano. A large desk faces the three windows, a round table between it and the fire- place. A settee, backed by a screen, is L., ai an angle to the fireplace. Comfortable chairs are in plenty. A profusion of early spring flowers decor" ates the room. Electric lighting is from sconces placed round the walls. The Time is sunset of an early spring day. A golden light fills the room. (The rising of the curtain discovers the Two Miss Wetherells — two sweet old ladies who have grown so much alike it would be difficult for a stranger to tell the one from the other. The hair of both is white, they are dressed much alike, both in some soft lavender coloured material, mixed with soft lace. The French clock on the mantelpiece vjunds in soft musical note six strokes.) 8 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM, Elder {hidden in the deep hay of the window). Such a lovely sunset, dear. (The Younger Miss Wetherell, her back towards the spectator, is arranging flowers on the round table R.C. She looks round, goes across to the window. Her sister comes back a little into the room. The Two Old Ladies stand holding each other's hands, looking out.) Younger. Beautiful ! (A silence. The sun is streaming full into the room.) You — you don't think, dear, that this room — (sA# looks round it) — may possibly be a little too sunny to quite suit her ? Elder {not at flrst understanding). How, dear, too sun {She looks and grasps the meaning.) You mean — ^you think that perhaps she — does that sort of thing ? Younger. Well, dear, one is always given to under- stand that they do — ^women — ladies of her — profession. Elder. It seems to me so wicked ; painting God's work. Younger. We mustn't Judge hardly, dear. Be- sides, dear, we don't know yet that she does. Elder. Perhaps she's young, and hasn't com- menced it. I fancy it's only the older ones that do it. Younger. He didn't mention her age, I remember. Elder. No, dear, but I feel she's young. Younger. I do hope she is. We may be able to mould her. Elder. We must be very sympathetic. One can accomplish so much with sympathy. Younger. We must get to understand her. (A sudden thought.) Perhaps, dear, we may get to like her. Elder {seems doubtful). We might try, dear. Younger. For Vernon's sake. The poor boy seems so much in love with her. We must FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. ft (Enter Be-^net l. c. He is the ideal butler.) Bennet. Doctor Freemantle. I have ahpwn him into the library. Younger. Thank you, Bennet. Will you please tell him that we shall be down in a few minutes. I must just finish these flowers. (She returns to the table.) Elder. Why not ask him to come up here. We could consult him — about the room. He always knows everything. Younger. A good idea. Please ask liim, Bennet, If he would mind coming up to us here. (Bennet, who has been attending to the needs of the ■fire, turns to go.) Oh, Bennet! (He stops and turns.) You will remind Charles to put a footwarmer in the carriage I Bennet. I will see to it myself. Younger (as Bennet goes out). Thank you, Bennet. (To her sister.) One's feet are always so cold after a railway journey. Elder. I've been told that, nowadays, they heat the carriages. Younger. Ah, it is an age of luxury 1 I wish I knew which were her favourite flowers. It is so nice to be greeted by one's favourite flowers. Elder. I feel so sure she loves Hhes. Younger. And they are so appropriate to a bride. So (Enter, announced by Bennet, Dr. Freemantle. He is a dapper little man, dean shaven, with quick brisk ways.) Dr. F. (he shakes hands with the Two Old Ladees). WeU. and how are we this afternoon ? iHe feels thA 10 F'ANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. pulse of the Younger.) Steadier. Much steadier t (0/ the Elder.) Nervous tension greatly relieved. YorjNGER. She has been sleeping much better. Dr. F. (he is standing between them. He pais tha hand of the Elder.) Excellent 1 Excellent 1 Elder. She ate a good breakfast tliis morning. Dr. F. (he pats the hand of the Yovnger). Couldn't have a better sign. (He smiles from one to the other.) Brain disturbance, caused by futile opposition to the inevitable, evidently abating. One page Marcus Aurelius every morning before breakfast. " Adapt thyself," says Marcus Aurelius, " to the things with which thy lot has been cast. Whatever happens " Younger. You see, doctor, it was all so sudden. Dr. F. The unexpected 1 It has a way of taking us by surprise — bowling us over — completely. Till we pull ourselves together. Make the best of what can't be helped hke — like brave, sweet gentlewomen {He presses their hands.) {They are both wiping away a tear.) When do you expect them ? Elder. To-night, by the half-past eight train. We had a telegram this morning from Dover. Dr. F. Um I and this is to be her room ? (He takes it in.) The noble and renowned Constance, friend and confidant of the elder Pitt, maker of history, first Lady Bantock — by Hoppner — always there to keep an eye on her, remind her of the family tradi- tions. Brilliant idea, brilliant ! {They are smiling with pleasure.) Elder. And you don 't think — it is what we wanted to ask you — that there is any fear of her finding it a little trying — the light. You see. this is an excep- tionally sunny room. Younger, And these actresses — if all one hears is tni(^ FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 11 {The dying sun is throwing his last beams across the room.) Dr. F. Which, thank God. it isn't. {He seats hinh %elf in the large easy chair.) (The Two Ladies sit side by side on the settee.) I'll tell you just exactly what you've got to expect. A lady— a few years older than'the boy himself— but still young. Exquisite figure; dressed— perhaps a tnfie too regardless of expense. Hair—maybe just a shade too golden. All that can be altered. Features —piquant, with expressive eyes, the use of which she probably understands, and an almost permanent smile, displaying an admirably preserved and re- markably even set of teeth. But, above all, clever. That's our sheet anchor. The woman's clever. She will know how to adapt herself to her new position. Younger (turning to her sister). Yes, she must be clever to have obtained the position that she has. (To the Doctor.) Vernon says that she was quite the chief attraction all this winter— in Paris. Elder. And the French pubhc is so critical. Dr. F. (drily). Urn I I was thinking rather of her cleverness in "landing" poor Vernon. The lad'a not a fool. Elder. We must do her justice. I think she wa« really in love with him. Dr. F. (still more drily). Very possibly. Most caf^ chantant singers, I take it, would be— with an English lord. (He laughs, and settling himself more comfortably, takes in his hand a vase of flowers it smelling them.) Elder. You see, she didn't know he was a lord Dr. F. (sits up). Didn't know ? Younger. No. She married him, thinking him to be a plain Mr. Wetherell, an artist. Dr. F. (he puts hack the vase—pushes it from him) Where d'ye get all that from ? IS FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Elder. From Vernon himself. YoiiVe got his last letter, dear. {She has opened her chatelaine bag.) Oh, no, I've got it myself. Younger. He's not going to break it to her till they reach here this evening. Elder (she reads). Yes. ** I shall not break it to her before we reach home. We were married quietly at the Hotel de Ville, and she has no idea I am anything else than plain Vernon James Vv'etherell, a fellow-countryman of her own, and a fellow artist. The dear creature has never even inquired whether I am rich or poor." I Hke her for that. Dr. F. You mean to tell me (He jumps up with his hands in his jacket pockets ; he walks to and fro.) I suppose it's possible. Elder. You see, she isn't the ordinary class of music-hall singer. Dr. F. I should say not. Elder. She comes of quite a good family. Younger. Her uncle was a bishop. Dr. F. Bishop ? Of where ? Elder [with the letter). He says he can't spell it. It's somewhere in New Zealand. Dr. F. Do they have bishops over there ? Younger. WeU, evidently. Elder. Then her cousin is a judge. Dr. F. In New Zealand ? Elder [still referring to the letter). No — ^in Ohio. Dr. F. Seems to have been a somewhat scattered family. Younger. People go about so much nowada3rs. (Enter Mrs. Bennet, the housekeeper.) Mrs. B. [she is about to speak to the Misses W. ; sees the Doctor). Good-aftemoon, doctor. Dr. F. Afternoon, Mrs. Bennet. Mrs. B. [she turns to the Misses W., her watch in her hand). I was thinking of having the fire lighted in her ladyship's bedroom. It is half-past six. FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 13 Elder. You are always so thoughtful. She may be tired. Mrs. B. If so, everything will be quite ready. {She goes out L., closing door.) Dr. F. What do they think about it all— the Bennets ? You have told them ? Younger. We thought it better. You see, one hardly regards them as servants. They have been In the family so long. Three generations of them. Elder. Really, since our poor dear brother's death, Bennet has been more like the head of the house than the butler. Younger. Of course, he doesn't say much. Elder. It is her having been on the stage that they feel so. Younger. You see, they have always been a religious family. Elder, Do you know, I really think they feel it more than we do. I found Peggy crying about it yesterday in the scullery. Dr. F. (he has been listening with a touch of amus^ ment), Peggy Bennet ? Younger. Yes. Charles Bennet's daughter. Dr. F. Happen to have a servant about the place who isn't a Bennet ? Younger. No, no, I don't really think we have. Oh, yes — that new girl Mrs. Bennet engaged last week for the dairy. WTiat is her name ? Elder. Arnold, Younger. Ah, yes, Arnold. Dr. F. Ah I Elder. I think she's a cousin, dear. Younger. Only a second cousin. Dr. F. Um 1 Well, I should tell the whole family to buck up. Seems to me, from what you tell me, that their master is bringing them home a treasure. (He shakesi hands briskly with the ladies,) May look U FANNY ANJ} THE SERVANT PROBLEM. In again to-morrow. Don't forget — one page Marcus Aurelius before breakfast — in case of need, (He goes out.) (The sun has sunk. The light is twilight.) Elder. He always cheers one up. Younger. He's so alive. (Re-enter Mrs. Bennet from L. She leaves the door ajar. The sound of a hammer is heard. It ceases almost immediately.) Oh, Mrs. Bennet, we w^ere going to ask you — who is to be her ladyship's maid ? Have you decided yet ? Mrs. B. I have come to the conclusion — looking at the thing from every point of view — that Jane would be the best selection. Younger. Jane ! {She turns to her sister.) Elder. But does she understand the duties ? Mrs. B. a lady's maid being so much alone with her mistress is bound to have a certain amount of Influence. And J ane has exceptionally high principles. Younger. That is true, dear. Mrs. B. As regards the duties, she is very quick at learning anything new. Of course, at first (The sound of hammering again comes from the bedroom.) Younger. Who is that hammering in her lady- ship's bedroom. Mrs. B. It is Bennet, Miss Edith. We thought it might be helpful ; a few texts, hung where they would alwa3^s catch her ladyship's eye. [She notices the look of doubt.) Nothing offensive. Mere general exhortations such as could be read by any lady. (The Misses W. look at one another, but do not speak.) I take it, dinner ivill be at half-past seven, as usual ? Elder. Yes, Mrs. Bennet, thank you. They will FANNY AND THE SERVANT PKOBLEM. Ifi not be here till about nine. They will probably prefer a little supper to themselves. (Mrs. Bennet goes out c.) {The Misses W. are looking at one another again. The hammering recommences.) VouNGER (she hesitates a moment, then goes to the open door and calls), Bennet— Bennet I (She returns and waits.) (Bennet enters.) Oh, Bennet, your wife tells us you are putting up d few texts in her ladyship's bedroom. Bennet. It seemed to me that a silent voice, speak- ing to her, as it were, from the v/all YOTJNGER. It is so good of you — only— you— you will be careful there is nothing she could regard as a personal allusion. Bennet. Many of the most popular I was com- pelled to reject, purely for that reason. Elder. We felt sure we could trust to your discretion. Younger. You see, coming, as she does, from a good family Bennet. It is that— I speak merely for myself— that gives me hope of reclaiming her. {A pause. The Two Lajjies, feeling a little helpless, again look at one a?wther.) Elder. We must be very sympathetic. Younger. And patient, Bennet. Bennet. It is what I am preparing myself to be. Of course, if you think them inadvisable, I can take them down again YoungeIv. No. Bennet, oh no! 1 should leav» tiiera up. Very thoughtful of you indeed. 1« FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Bennet. It seemed to me one ought to leave no stone unturned. (He goes out u, doses the door.) Younger [after a pause). I do hope she'll like the Bennets. Elder. I think she will — after a time — when she is used to them. Younger. I am so anxious it should turn out well. Elder. I feel sure she's a good woman. Vernon would never have fallen in love with her if she hadn't been good. {They take each other's hand, and sit side by side, as before, upon the settee. The twilight has faded, only the faint firelight remains, surrounded by shadows.) Do you remember, when he was a little mite, how be loved to play vsith your hair ? (The Younger laughs.) I always envied you your hair. Vounger. He was so fond of us both. Do you remember when he was recovering from the measles, his crying for us to bath him instead of Mrs. Bennet. I have always reproached myself that we refused. Elder. He was such a big boy for his age. Younger. I think we might have stretched a point in a case of illness. [The room has grown very dark. The door has been softly opened, Vernon, followed by Fanny, has entered noiselessly. Fanny remains near the door hidden by the screen — Vernon has crept forward. At this point the Old Ladies become aware that some' body is in the room. They are a little alarmed.) Who's there ? Vernon. It's all right, aunt. It's only I. [The Two Ladies have risen. They run forward, both take him in their arms.) FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 17 Younger. Vernon I Elder. My dear boy I Younger. But we didn't expect you— Elder. And your wife, dear ? Vernon. She's here 1 Elder. Here ? (Fanny, from behind screen, laughs) Vernon. We'U have some Ught. (He whispers ie (hem.) Not a word— haven't told her yet. (Feeling his way to the wall, r. of fireplace, he turns on the electric light) (Fanny is discovered, having slipped out from behind . the screen. There is a pause. Vernon standing near the fire, watches admiringly.) Fanny. Hope you are going to like me. Younger. My dear, I am sure we shall. Elder. It is so easy to love the young and pretty. (They have drawn dose to her. They seem to hesitate.) Fanny (laughs). It doesn't come off, does it, Vernon dear ? (Vernon laughs, Ths Two Old Ladies, laughing, kiss her,) Fanny. Vm so glad you think I'm pretty. As a matter of fact. I'm not. There's a certain charm about me. I admit. It deceives people. (Vernon laughs again.) Younger. We were afraid— you know, dear, boys— {she looks at him and smiles)—someiimes fall in love with women much older than themselves— especially women.— (5Atf grows confused— takes the girl's hand.) We are so relieved that you— that you are yourself dear. Fanny. You were quite right, dear. They are •weet. Which is which ? 18 FANNY AN-D TITF SERVANT PROBLEM. Vernon {laughs). Upon my word. I never cafi teH. YouxGER. Veruon I And you know I was alwaya yonr favourite ! Elder. Dear I Vernon. Then this is Aunt AUce. Younger. No, dear, Edith. (Vernon throws up his hands in despair. They aU laugh.) Fanny. I tiiink I shall dress you differently ; put you in blue and you in pink. (5/^^ laughs.) Is this the drawing-room ? Vernon. Your room, dear. Fanny. I like a room where one can stretch one's legs. (She walks across it.) A Uttle too much desk. Elder. It belonged to the elder Pitt. Fanny. Um I Suppose we must find a corner for it somewhere. That's a good picture. Younger. It is by Hoppner. ■ Fanny [she turns to Vernon). One of your artist friends ? Vernon. Well — you see, dear, that's a portrait of my great grandmother — painted from Ufe. Fanny [she whistles). I am awfully ignorant on some topics. One good tiling, I always was a quick study. Not a bad-looking woman. Elder. We are very proud of her. She was the first Vernon [hastily). We will have her history some other time. YoUxNGER [who understands, signs to her sister). Of course. She's tired. We are forgetting everything — you will have some tea, won't you, dear ? Fanny. No, thanks. We had tea in the train. {With the more or less helpful assistance of Vernon she divests herself of her outdoor garments, thej varying the work with lover-like pecks and twitt.ring%,) FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 19 Elder (she holds up her hands in ast^/^ishmeni) Tea in the train 1 Younger. We were not expecting you so soon VTou said in your telegram Vernon. Oh, it was raining in Lonrlon. We thought we would come straight on — lea\e our shopping for another day. Fanny. I beheve you were glad it was raining. Saved you such a lot of money. Old Stingy ! Elder. Then did you walk from the station, dear ? Fanny. Didn't it seem a long way ? {She laughs up into his face.) He was so bored. (Vernon laughs.) Younger. I had better tell (She is goin^ towards the hell.) Vernon (he stops her). Oh, let them alone. Plenty of time for all that fuss. [He puts them both gently side by side on the settee.) Sit down and talk. Haven't I been clever ? (He puts his arm round Fanny, laughing.) You thought I had made an ass of myself, didn't you ? (He laughs.) Did you get all my letters ? Younger. I think so, dear. (Fanny is sitting in the easy chair r.c. Vernon seats himself on the arm.) Fanny. Do you know I've never had a love-letter from you ? Vernon. You gave me no time. She met me a month ago, and married me last week. Fanny. It was quick work. He came — he saw — I conquered ! (Laughs.) Elder. They say that love at first sight is often ihe most lasting. Vernon (he puts his arm around her). You are wire you will never regret having given up the stage — the excitement Fanny. The excitement. Do vou know wb^i to FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. an actress's life always seemed to me like ? Dancing on a tight rope with everybody throwing stones at you. One soon gets tired of that sort of excitement. Oh, I was never in love with the stage. Had to do something for a living. Younger. It must be a hard life for a woman. Elder. Especially for any one not brought up to it. Fanny. You see, I had a good voice and what I suppose you might call a natural talent for acting. It seemed the easiest thing. Younger. I suppose your family were very much opposed to it ? (Vernon has changed his position. He is standing with his back to the fire.) Fanny. My family ? Hadn't any I Elder. No family ? (Bennet enters L.C.) Fanny. No, you see, I was an only child. My father and mother both died before I was fourteen, (Bennet at sound of Fanny's voice suddenly stops — hidden behind the screen.) Younger. But your uncle ? Fanny. Oh, him I It was to get away from him and all thnt cre-.v that I went on the stage. Elder. It is so sad when relations don't get on together. Fanny. Sadder still when they think they've got a right to trample on you, just because you happen to be an orphan and — I don't want to talk about my relations. I want to forget them. I stood them for nearly six months. I don't want to be reminded of them. I want to forget that they ever existed. I want to for FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM- 21 {Bennet has come down very quietly. Fanny, f^om where he stands, is the only one who sees him. Hi stands looking at her, his features, as ever, immovable. At sight of him her eyes and mouth open wider and wider. The words die away from her tongue. Ver- non has turned away and put a log on the fire, and so has not seen her expression — only hears her sudden silence. He looks up and sees Bennet, who has moved a few steps further down.) Vernon. Ah, Bennet ! (He advances, holding out his hand.) You quite well ? Bennet (shaking hands with him). Quite well. Vernon. Good ! And all the family ? Bennet. Nothing to complain of. Charles has had a touch of influenza. Vernon. Ah, sorry to hear that. Bennet. And your lordship ? Vernon. Fit as a fiddle — your new mistress. (Fanny has risen. Bennet turns to her. For a moment his back is towards the other three, Fanny only sees his face,) Bennet. We shall endeavour to do our duty to her ladyship. (He turns to Vernon.) I had arranged for a more fitting reception Vernon. To tell the honest truth, Bennet, the very thing we were afraid of — why we walked from the station, and sHpped in by the side door. (Laugh- ing.) Has the luggage come ? Bennet. It has just arrived. It was about that I came to ask. I could not understand (The Misses W. have also risen. Fanny's speechless amazement is attributed by them and Vernon to natural astonishment at discovery of his rank.) Younger. You will be wanting a quiet talk together. We shall see you at dinner. Vernon. What time is dinner ? 22 FAJSTNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Younger. Half-past seven. {To Fanny.) But don't you hurry, dear. I will tell cook to delay it a little. {She kisses her.) Elder. You will want some time to arrange that pretty hair oi yiiuis. [She also kisses the passive, speechless Fanny.) (They gj ou4 hand in hand.) Bennet. I will see, while I am here, that youf lordship's room is in order. Vernon. Why, where *s Robert then ? Bennet. He has gone into town to do some shopping. We did not expect your lordship much before nine. There may be one or two things to see to. (He goes out r.c.) Fanny (l.). Vernon, where am I ? Vernon. At home, dear. Fanny. Yes, but where ? Vernon. At Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire. (Fanny sits down on the settee — drops down.) (He goes to her.) You're not angry with me ? You know how the world always talks in these cases, I wanted to be able to prove to them all that you married me for myself. Not because I was Lord Bantock. Can you forgive me ? {He leans over her, laughing.) Fanny {she still seems in a dream). Yes — of course. You didn't — you wouldn't {She suddenly strings up.) Vernon, you do love me ? (She flings he? arms round hts neck.) Vernon. Dear I Fanny. You will never be ashamed of me ? Vernon. Dearest I Fanny. 1 was onlv a music-hall singer There 'i no getting over it. \o\i know. FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM 23 Vernon. I should have loved you had you been a beggar maid. Fanny (she still clings to him). With an uncle a costernionger, and an aunt who sold matches. It wouldn't have made any difference to you, would it ? You didn't marry me for my family, did you ? You didn't, did you ? Vernon. Darling I I maiiied you because you are the most fascinating, the most lovable, the most wonderful little woman in the world. (Fanny gives a sob.) As for your family — I've got a confession to make to you, dear. I made inquiries about your family be- fore I proposed to you. Not for my own sake — because I knew I'd have to answer a lot of stupid questions. It seemed to me quite a good family. Fanny. It is ! Oh, it is ! There never was such a respectable family. That's why I never could get on with them. Vernon (laughi^ig). Well, you haven't got to — any more. We needn't even let them know (Bennet re-enters. Vernon moves a few steps away from her. Fanny stands with her face turned towards the fire.) Bennet. Robert, I find, has returned. It is ten minutes to seven. Vernon. Thanks. Well, I shall be glad of a bath. [He turns to Fanny.) Bennet will send your maid to ^''^u. [He whispers to her.) You'll soon get used to it all. As for the confounded family — ^we w ill forget all about them. (Fanny answers with another little stifled sob. Bennei »> drawing, th'.' curtains, his back to the room) 24 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. (Vernon sees that Bennet is occupied, so he steals a kiss from the unresponsive Fanny and goes out R. c.) {At the sound of the closing of the door, Fanny looks round, goes to the door through which Vernon has just passed, listens a moment, then returns to centre of room. Bennet calmly finishes the drawing of the curtains. Then he, too, crosses slowly till he and Fanny are facing one another across the centre of ths room.) Fanny. Well, what are you going to do ? Bennet. My duty ! Fanny. What's that ? Something unpleasant, I know I can bet my bottom dollar. Bennet. That, my girl, will depend upon you. Fanny. How upon me ? Bennet. Whether you prove an easy or a diificult subject. To fit you for your position a certain amount of training will, I fancy, be necessary. Fanny. Training! I'm to be {She draws herself up.) Are you aware who I am ? Bennet. Oh yes. And who you were. His lord- ship, I take it, would hardly relish the discovery that he had married his butler's niece. He might consider the situation awkward. Fanny. And who's going to train me ? Bennet. I am. With the assistance of your aunt and such other members of your family as I consider can be trusted. Fanny {for a moment she is speechless, then she bursts out). That ends it ! I shall tell him ! I shall tell him this very moment. {She crosses.) Bennet. At this moment you will most likely find his lordship hi his bath. Fanny. I don't care I Do you think — do you think for a moment that I'm going to allow myself — I, Lady Bantock, to be I shall tell him and you'll only have yourself to blame. He loves Tr>p — hf FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 2f kOVfeS me for myself. I shall tell him the whole truth, %nd ask him to give you all the sack. Bennet (l. c). You're not forgetting that you've already told him once whom you were ? (// stops her. What she really did was to leave the marriage arrangements in the hands of her business agent, George P. Newte. As ageyit for a music-hall star, he is ideal, but it is possible that in answering Lord Bantock's inquiries concerning Fanny's antecedents he may not have kept strictly to the truth.) Fanny. I never did. I've never told him any- thing about my family. Bennet. Curious. I was given to understand it was rather a classy affair. Fanny. I can't help what other people may have done. Because some silly idiot of a man may possibly ■ Uncle, dear, wouldn't it be simpler for you all to go away ? He's awfully fond of me. He'll do anything I ask him. I could merely say that I didn't like you and get him to pension you off. You and aunt could have a little roadside inn somewhere — with ivy. Bennet. Seeing that together with the stables and the garden there are twenty-three of us Fanny. No, of course, he couldn't pension you all. You couldn't expect Bennet. I think his lordship might prefer to leave things as they are. Good servants nowadays are not so easily replaced. And neither your aunt nor I are at an age when change appeals to one. Fanny. You see, it's almost bound to creep out sooner or later, and then Bennet. We will make it as late as possible. (He crosses and rings the bell.) Giving you time to prove to his lordship that you are not incapable of learning. Fanny (she sits on the settee, she is half crying). Some people would be pleased that their niece had married welL 28 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Bennet. I am old-fashioned enough to think also of my duty to those I serve. If his lordship has done me the honour to marry my niece, the least I can do is to see to it that she brings no discredit to his name. (Mrs. Bennet, followed by Jane, a severe looking woman of middle age, has etUered upon the words " the least I can do.'* Bennet st^iys them a moment with his hand while he finishes. Tlten he turns to his wife.) You will be interested to find, Susannah, that the new Lady Bantock is not a stranger. Mrs. B. Not a stranger ! (She has reached a posi- tion from where she sees the girl.) Fanny ! You wicked girl I Where have you been all these years ? Bennet (interposing). There will be other oppor- tunities for the discussion of family differences. Just now her ladyship is waiting to dress for dinner. Mrs. B. (sneering). Her ladyship ! Jane (also sneering). I think she might have fore- warned us of the honour in store for us. Mrs. B. Yes, why didn't she write ? Fanny. Because I didn't know. Do you think — (she rises) — that if I had I would ever have married him — to be brought back here ? Put in this ridic- ulous position ? Do you think that I am so fond of you all that I couldn't keep away from you at any price ? Mrs. B. But you must have known that Lord Bantock Fanny. I didn't know he was Lord Bantock. I only knew him as Mr. Wetherell, an artist. He wanted to feel sure that I was marrying him foi himself alone. He never told w^ (Ernest, a very young footman, has entered it) avsv'e* to Bennet's ring of a minute ago. JU. hns come FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 27 forward step by step, staring all the while open- mouthed at Fanny.) {Turning, she sees Ernest beside her.) Hulloa, Ernie. How are the rabbits ? (She kisses him. ) Bennet, Don't stand there gaping. I rang for some wood Tell your brother dinner villi be at a quarter to eight. (Ernest, never speaking, still staring at Fanny, gets clumsily out again.) Fanny. Well, I suppose I'd better see about dressing ? Do 1 dine with his lordship or in the servants' hall ? Mrs. B. {turns to her husband). You see! Stil) the old impertinence, Fanny. Only wanted to know. My only desire is to give satisfaction. Bennet (he moves towards the door). You will do it by treating the matter more seri(ui?;ly. .At (dinner, by keeping your eye upon me, you will be able to tell whether you are behavmg yourself or not. Mrs. B. And mind you are punctual. I have appointed Jane to be your maid. Fanny. Jane ! Mrs. B. {in arms). Have you any objections ? Fanny. No, oh no, so long as you're all satisfied. Mrs. B. Remember, you are no longer on the music-hall stage. In dressing for Bantock Hall you will do well to follow her advice. (Bennet, who has been waiting with the door in his hand, goes out \ Mrs. B. follows.) Jane {in the ione.^ f^* a ftatient exenutioney). Are jTDU ready ? Fanny. Quite ready, de^". Of course — I don't know what you will think of tnt^in— b-jt I've only brought modern costumes with mfi. Jane {not a lady who understands satire). We 'ytn^i do the best we can (.She marchefi f>t^ !U^ 88 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. (Fanny, after following a few steps, stops and thinks. Ernest has entered with the wood. He is piling it in the basket by the fire. His entrance decides her. She glances through the open door L., then flies across to the desk, seats herself, and begins feverishly to write a telegram. In a whisper, while she is busy at ike desk,) Fanny. Ernie ! (He comes across to her,) Have you still got your bicycle ? Ernest. Yes. Fanny. Could you get this telegr, -s^ off for me before eight o'clock ? I don't want it i-nt from the village, I want you to take it yourvelf — into the town. There's a sovereign for you if you do it all right. Ernest. I'll do it. Can only get mto a row. Fanny. Pretty used to them, ain't you ? {She has risen. She gives him the telegram. She hat stamped it.) Can you read it ? Ernest. " George P. Newte." Fanny. Hush 1 (They both glance at the open door L.) Ernest [he continues in a lower voice). " 72 A, Waterloo Bridge Road, London. Must see you at once. Am at the new shop." (He looks up.) Fanny. That's all right. Ernest. " Come down. Q.T. Fanny.'* Fanny (nods). Get off quietly. I'U see you \gain VorCB OF Jane (Jrom dressing-room). Are you nn\% to keep me waiting all night ? [ikey start, Ernest hastily thrusts the telegram into ku breast pocket,) FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 29 Fanny. Coming, dear, coming. Not a word to any one ! (^Ske hurries him out of door l. c. , closes it behind him.') Merely been putting the room a bit tidy. (She is flying round collecting her outdoor garments ^ etc.)^ Thought it would please you. So sorry if I've kept you waiting. ( With a pile of clothes in her arms she is crossing l.) (Jank has appeared at door.) After you, dear. (^K^^goes out agai?i. Fanny, zvith her pile of lug* gage,follozvs. ) Curtain. ACT 11 Scene. — The same, except that the screen behind the settee has been removed. Time. — Morning. The sun is streaming into the room. (In Act 1 the beams fall down stage. They now fall up stage.) {The clock strikes eleven. On the last stroke the door opens. Dr. Freemantle enters, shown in by Bennet, who follows him.) Dr. F. (talking as he enters). Wonderful. Wonder- ful. I don't really think I ever remember so fine a spiing. Bennet (he is making up the fire). I'm afraid we shall have to pay for it later on. Dr. F. (6y the window). I expect so. Law of the universe, you know, Bennet, law of the universe. Everything in this world has got to be paid for. Bennet. Except trouble. (Doctor laughs.) The Times ? (He hands it to him.) Dr. F. Thanks. Thanks. (Seats himself.) Won't be long — his lordship, will he ? Bennet. I don't think so. 1 told him you would be here about eleven. Dr. F. Um — what do you think of her ? Bennet. Of — of her ladyship ? Dr. F. What's she Uke ? (They have sunk their voices.) Bennet. Well, it might have been worse. Dr. F. Ah ! There's always that consolation Isn't there ? FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. %\ Bennet. I think her ladyship— with managemeni —may turn out very satisfactory. Dr. F. You Uke her ? Bennet. At present— I must say for her— she appears wilUng to be taught. Dr. F. And you think it will last ? Bennet. I think her ladyship appreciates the pecuUarity of her position. I will tell the Miss Wetherells you are here. Dr. F. Ah, thanks 1 Bennet. I fancy her ladyship wiU not herself be visible much before lunch time. I understand she woke this morning with a headache. (He goes out.) {The Doctor reads a moment. Then the door l. opens, and Fanny enters. Her dress is a wondcrjid con' irast to her costume of last evening. It might he that of a poor and demure nursery governess. Her hait is dressed iti keeping. She hardly seems the same woman.) Fanny {seeing the Doctor, she pauses). Oh I Dr. F. {rises— a pause). I beg pardon, have I the pleasure of seeing Lady Bantock ? Fanny. Yes. Dr. F. Delighted. May I introduce myself— Dr. Freemantle ? I helped your husband into the world. Fanny. Yes. I've heard of you. You don't mind my closing this door, do you ? {Her very voice and manner are changed.) I Dr. F. {a little puzzled). Not at all. Fanny {crosses, and closes the door l. c, retfirns) Won't— won't you be seated ? {She sits l.) Dr. F. Thanks. {He sits r.) How's the head- ache ? Fanny. Oh, it's better. Dr. F. Ah I (A sUencf) fS FANNY AND TILE SERVANT PROBLEM. Forgive me, I'm an old friend of the family. You're not a bit what I expected. Fanny. But you like it ? I mean you think this — {with a gesture) — is all right ? Dr. F. My dear young lady, it's charming. You couldn't be anything else, I Fanny. Thank you. Dr. F. I merely meant that — well, I was not ex- pecting anything so delightfully demure. Fanny. That's the idea — " seemly." The Lady Bantocks have always been " seemly ? " (She puh it as a question.) Dr. F. (more and more puzzled). Yes — oh, yes. They have always been — (His eye catches that of Constance, first Lady Bantock, looking down at him from above the chimney piece. His tone changes.) Well, yes, in their way, you know. Fanny. You see, I'm in the difficult position of following her late ladyship. She appears to have been exceptionally " seemly." This is her frock — I mean It was h«!r frock. Dr. F. God bless my soul ! You are not dressing yourself up in her late ladyship's clothes ? The dear good woman has been dead and buried these twenty years. Fanny (she looks at her dress). Yes, it struck me as being about that period. Dr. F. (he goes across to her). What's the trouble ? Too much Bennet ? Fanny (she looks up. There is a suspicion of « $mile.). One might say — sufficient ? Dr. F. (laughs). Excellent servants. If they'd ©nly remember it. (He glances round — sinks his voics.) Take my advice. Put your foot down — before it's too late. Fanny. Sit down, please. (She makes room for him on the settee — below her.) Because I'm going to be confidential. You don't mind, do you ? 1}k, F. (seating himself). My dear. I take it as the FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 83 greatest compliment I have had paid to me for years. Fanny. You put everything so nicely. I'm two persons. I'm an angel — perhaps that is too strong a word ? Dr. F. (doubtfully). Well Fanny. We'll say saint— or else I'm— the other thing. Dr. F. [looks at her with a smile). Do you know, I think you could be. Fanny. It's not a question about which there is any doubt. Dr. F. Of course, in this case, a little bit of the devil Fanny (she shakes her head). There's such a lot of mine— it has always hampered me ; never being able to hit the happy medium. Dr. F. It is awkward. Fanny. I thought I would go on being an angel Dr. F. Saint. Fanny. Saint — till — well, till it became physically Impossible to be a saint any longer. Dr. F. And then ? Fanny (she rises, crosses, turns to him with a gesture o' half-comic, half-tragic despair). Well, then I can't b4p it, can I ? Dr. F. I think you're making a mistake. An explosion ^^ill undoubtedly have to take place. That being so— the sooner it takes place the better. (Patise —he rises, goes to her.) What are you afraid of ? Fanny (she changes her tone — the talk becomes serious). You've known Vernon all his life ? Dr. F. No one better. Fanny. Tell me. I've known him only as a lover. What sort of a man is he ? (A pause. They are looking straigM into each other'i eyes.) Dr. F. a man it pays to be perfectly frank with, o M FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLERi. Fanny (moves towards window). It's a very old family, isn't it ? Dr. F. Old ! Good Lord, no ! First Lord Ban- tock was only Vernon's great grandiather. That is the woman that did it all. (He is looking at the Hoppner.) Fanny (she has also turned). How do you mean ? Dr. F. Got them their title. Made the name of Bantock of importance in the history of the Georges. Clever woman. Fanny (leaning over a chair, she is staring into the tyes of the first Lady Bantock). I wonder what she would have done if she had ever got herself into a really first-class muddle ? Dr. F. One thing's certain. (Fanny turns to him.) She'd have got out of it. Fanny (addresses the portrait) I do wish yon could talk. (Vernon hursts into the room l. c. He has been riding. He throws aside his hat and stick.) Vernon. Hulloa I This is good of you. {Ht shakes hands with the Doctor.) How are you ? (Without waiting for any reply, he goes to Fanny, kisses her.) Good-morning, dear. How have you been getting on together, you two ? Has she been talking to you ? Dr. F. Oh. yes. Vernon. Doesn't she talk well ? I say, what have you been doing to yourself ? Fanny. Jane — thought this style — (with a gesture) —more appropriate to Lady Bantock. Vernon. Um 1 Wonder if she's right ? (To the Doctor.) What do you tliink ? Dr. F. / think it a question solely for Lady Bantock. Vernon. Of course it is. (To Fanny.) You know, yo\j mustn't let them dictate to you. Dear. PANNY AND THE SERVANT PROELE]iL M g ing from me. It would seem Uke ingratitude. Mrs. Bonnet — why, it wasn't till I began to ask questions that I grasped the frxt that she wasn't my real mother. As for old Bennet, ever since my father died — ^\\'ell, I hardly know how I could have got on without him. It was Charles Bennet that taught me to ride ; I learned my letters sitting on Jane's lap. Fanny (that hope fails her). Yes. Perhaps I had better do it myself. Vernon. I'm sure It will be more cfTrctive. OS course I shall support you. Fanny. Thank you. Oh, by the by, dear, I fihan't be able to go with you to-day. Vernon. Why not ? Fanny. I've rather a headache. Vernon. Oh, I'm so sorry. Oh, all right, we'll stop at home. I'm not so very keen about it. Fanny. No, I want you to go, dear. Your aunts are looking fonvard to it. I shall get over it all the sooner with everybody out of the way. Vernon. Well, if you really wish it. (Enter the Misses Wetherell. They are dressed for driving. They exchange greetings with the Doctor.) Fanny. You know you promised to obey. (Tickle$ his nose with a flower. \ _ if^ FANNY AND THE SERVA]^;T PROBLEai. Vernon [laughing — to the Doctor). You see what 'it is to be married ? Dr. F. (laughs). Very trying. Vernon (turning to the Old Ladies). Fanny isn't coming with us. Younger (to Fanny). Oh, my dear 1 Fanny. It's only a headache, (She takes het aside.) I'm rather glad of it. I want an excuse for a little time to myself. Younger. I understand, dear. It's all been so sudden. (She kisses hey — then to the room.) She'll be all the better alone. We three will go on. (She nods ayid signs to her sister.) Fanny (kissing the Elder). Don't you get betting. Elder. Oh, no, dear, we never do. It's just to see the dear horses. (She joins her sister — They whisper.) Vernon [to the Doctor, to whom he has been talk- ing). Can we give you a lift ? Dr. F. Well, you might as far as ihQ Vicarage. Good-bye, Lady Bantock. Fanny (shaking hands). Good-bye, Doctor. Vernon. Sure you won't be lonely ? Fanny (laughs). Think I can't exist an hour with- out you ? Mr. Conceited I Vernon (latighs and kisses her). Come along. (He takes the Doctor and his Younger Aunt towards the door.) Elder (who is following last). I like you in that frock. Fanny (/^wg /is). So glad. It's Ernest who attends to the fires, isn't it ? Elder. Yes, dear. Fanny. I vdsh you'd send him up. (At door — calls after them.) Hope you'll all enjoy yourselves ! Vernon (jrom the distance). I shall put you on a 6ver. Fanny. Mind it wins. [She listens a mowrnt-- FANNY ANl) THE SERVANT PROBLEM. S7 closes door, comes lack to desk, and takes a Bradskaw.) Five-six-three— five-six-three. (Finds page.) St. Pancras, eight o'clock. Oh. Lord 1 Stamford, 10.45. Leave Stamford (Enter Ernest.) Is that you, Ernest ? Ernest. Yes, Fanny. Shut the door— sure It went off last night, that telegram ? Ernest. Yes. Fanny (to herself). If he doesn't catch that eight o'clock, he can't get here till nearly four. That will be awkward, (To Ernest.) What time is it now ? Ernest [looks at clock). Twenty past eleven. Fanny (to herself). If he does, he'll be here about twelve— I believe I'll go and meet liim. Could I get out without being seen ? Ernest. You'll have to pass the lodge, Fanny. Who's at the lodge now ? Ernest. Mother. Fanny. Damn I (Bennet has entered unnoticed at the words ** VU go and meet him " ayid drawn near. At this point from behind, he boxes Ernest's ears.) Ernest. Here, steady I Bennet. On the occasions vsheri your consin forgets her position, you will remember it ar.d remind her of it. Get out 1 (Ernest, clumsily as ever, *' gets out.^') A__sort of person has called who— according to hia own account—" happened to be passing tl\is way " and would hke to see you. Fanny [who has been trying to hide the Dradshaw— vith affected surprise), to see me 1 Bennet {drily). Yes. I thought you would \* t8 FANNY AND THK SERVANT PROBLEM. surprised. He claims to be an old friend of yours— Mr. George Newte. Fanny (still keeping it up). George Neu-te ! Oi course — ah, yes. Do you mind showing him up ? Bennet. I thought I would let you know he had arrived, in case you might be getting anxious about him. I propose giving him a glass of beer and sending him away again. Fanny {jumps up). Look here, uncle, you and I havd got to understand one another. I may put up with being bullied myself — if I can't see any help for It — but Fm not going to stand my friends being insulted. You show Mr. Newte up here. (A silence.) Bennet. I shall deem it my duty to Inform his lordship of Mr. Newte 's visit. Fanny. There will be no need to. Mr. Newte, if his arrangements permit, will be staying to dinner. Bennet. That, we shall see about. {He goes out.) Fanny {following him to door). And tell them I shall want the best bedroom got ready in case Mr. Newte is able to stay the night. I've done it I {She goes to piano, dashes into the " Merry Widow Waltz," or jome other equally inappropriate hut well-known melody.) (Then enter Newte, shown in by Bennet. Newte is a cheer fid person, attractively dressed in clothes suggestive of a successful bookmaker. He carries a white pot hat and tasselled cane. His gloves are large and bright. He is smoking an enormous cigar.) Bennet. Mr. Newte. (Fanny springs up and greets him. They are ev^ iently good friends.) Fanvy. Hulloa, George I FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. St Newte. HuUoa, Fan — I beg your pardon, Lady Bantock. (Laughs.) Was just passing this way Fanny {cutting him short). Yes — so nice of you to caU. Newtb. I said to myself (His eye catches Bennet, he stops). Ah, thanks. (He gives Bennet his hat and stick, but Bennet do€$ not seem satisfied. He has taken from the table « small china tray. This he is holding out to Newte, evidently for Newte to put something in it. Fnt what? Newte is puzzled, he glances at Fanny. The idea strikes him that perhaps it is a tip Bennet is waiting for. It seems odd, but if it be the custom — he puts his hand to his trouser's pocket.) Bennet. The smoking-room is on the ground floor. Newte. Ah, my cigar. I beg your pardon. I couldn't understand. (He puts it on the tray — breaki into a laugh.) Bennet. Thank you. Her ladyship is suffering from a headache. If I might suggest — a little less boisterousness. (Hs goes out.) (A silence. Newte (r.) , suddenly subdued, and Fanny (l.) look at one another.) Newte. I say, your Lord Chamberlain's a bit oi a freezer I Fanny. Yes. Wants hanging out in the sun. How did you manage to get here so early ? (Sits upper end of settee.) Newte. Well, your telegram rather upset me. I thought — correct etiquette for me to sit down here, do you think ? Fanny. Don't ask me. Got enough new tricks of my own to learn. (Laughs.) Should chance it, if I were you. 40 FANNY AND THE SERV^ANT PROBLEM. Newte. Such a long time since T was at Cnurt, (Sils.) Yes, I was up at five o'clock this morning. Fanny (laughs). Oh, you poor fellow ! Newte. Caught the first train to Melton, and came on by cart. What's the trouble ? Fanny. A good deal. Why didn't you tell mt what I was marrying ? Newte. I did. I told you that he was a gentleman j that he Fanny, Why didn't you tell me that he was Lord Bantock ? You knew, didn't j^ou ? New^te (begins to see worries ahead). Can't object to my putting a cigar in my mouth if I don't light It — can he ? Fanny (impatient). Oh, light it — anything you like that will help you to get along. Newte (bites the end off the cigar and puis it between his teeth. This helps him). No, I didn't know — not officially. Fanny. What do you mean " not officially ? " Newte. He never told me. Fanny. He never told you anything — tor the matter of that. I understood you had found out everything for yourself. Newte. Yes ; and one of the things I found out was — that he didn't want you to know. I could ?<'e liis little game. Wanted to play the Lord Burleigh fake. Well, what was the harm ? Didn't make any difference to you I Fanny. Didn't make any difference to me I (Jumps lip.) Do you know what I've done ? Married into a family that keeps twenty-three servants, every blessed one of whom is a near relation of my own. (He sits paralysed. She goes on.) That bald-headed old owl — (with a wave towards the door) — that wanted to send you off with a glass oi beer and 3 flea in your ear — that's my uncle. Th*» FANNY ANT) THE SERVANT PROBLEM. «i woman that opened the lf).]ge gate for you is my Aunt AnieUa. The carrot ty-headed young man that answered the door to you is my cousin Simeon. Hf always used to insist on kissing me. I'm expecting him to begin again. My " lady's " maid is my cousin Jane. That's why I'm dressed like this I My own clothes have been packed of/ to the local dressmaker to be made ** decent." Meanwliile, they've dug up the family vault to find something for me to go on with. {He has been fumblifig in all his pockets for matches. She snatches a box from somewhere and flings it to him.} For Heaven's sake light it I Then, perhaps, you'll be able to do something else than stare. I have claret and water — mixed — with my dinner. Uncle pours It out for me. They've locked up my cigarettes. Aunt vSusannah is corning in to-morrow morning to hear me say my prayers. Doesn't trust me by myself. Thinks I'll skip them. She's the housekeeper here. I've got to know tiiem by heart before I go to bed to-night, and now I've mislaid them. (She goes to the desk — hunts for them.) Nevtye {having lighted his eternal cigar he can begin to think). But why should they Fanny [stiU at desk). Because they're that sort. They honestly tliink they are doing the right and proper thing — that Providence has put it into their hands to turn me out a passable substitute for all a Lady Bantock should be ; which, so far as I can understand, is something belween the late lamented Queen Victoria and Goody-Two-Shoes. They are the people that I ran away from, the ])eople ^^ e told you about, the people I've always said I'd rather starve than ever go back to. And here I am, plumped down in the midst of them again — for life I Whal is it ? What is it ? 42 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. (HoNORiA Bennet, the " stilUroom " maid, has entered L. c. She is a pert young minx of about Fanny's own age.) HoNORiA. Merely passing through. Sorry to have excited your ladyship. (Goes out L.) Fanny. My cousin Honoria. They've sent her ap to keep an eye upon me. Little cat I (Sne takes her handkerchief, drapes it over the keyhole of the door L.) Newte (at sight of Honoria he has jtimpea up and hastily hidden his cigar behind him). \Vb-it are you going to do ? Fanny (she seats herself on the chair r he has jusi vacated — suggests to him the writing-chair). Hear from you — first of all — exactly what you told A emon. Newte (sitting). About you ? Fanny {nods). About me — and my family. Newte. Well — couldn't tell him mii^h, of course. Wasn't much to tell. Fanny. I want what you did tell, Newte. I told him — that your late /ather — ^was a musician. Fanny. Yes. Newte. Had been unfortunate. Didn't go into particulars. Didn't seem to be any need ior it. That your mother had died when you were still only a girl — that you had gone to live with relatives. {H» looks for approval.) Fanny. Yes. Newte. That you hadn't got on well with them — artistic temperament, all that sort of thing — * hat, in consequence, you had appealed to your father's old theatrical friends ; and that they — that they, having regard to your talent — and beauty Fanny. Thank you. Newte. Had decided that the best thing 5^00 could do was to go upon the stage. (He finishes, ffderahlv well plea^^ed with himself.) FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 4S Fanny. That's all right. Very good indeed— what else ? Newte (after an uncomfortable pause). Well that's about aU I knew. Fanny. Yes, but what did you tell him ? Newte. WeU, of course, I had to tell him some- thing. A man doesn't marry without knowing just a little about his wife's connexions. Wouldn't be reasonable to expect him. You'd never told me any^ thing—never would ; except that you'd hked to have boiled the lot. What was I to do ? (He is flaying wtth a quill pen he has picked up.) Fanny (she takes it from him). What did you do ? Newte (with fine frankness). I did the best I could for you, old girl, and he was very nice about it. Said it was better than he'd expected, and that I'd made him very happy— very happy indeed. Fanny (she leans across, puts her hand on his). You're a dear, good fellow, George — always have been. I wouldn't plague you only it is absolutely necessary I should know— exactly what you did teU him. Newte (a little sulkily). I told him that your uncle was a bishop. Fanny (sits hack— staring at him). A what ? Newte. A bishop. Bishop of Waiapu, New Zealand. Fanny. Why New Zealand ? Newte. Why not? Had to be somewhere. Didn't want him Archbishop of Canterbury, did you ? Fanny. Did he believe it ? Newte. Shouldn't have told him had there been any fear that he wouldn't. Fanny (the hitter laugh— then). Any other swell relations of mine knocking about ? Newte. One— a judge of the Supreme Court in Ohio. Same name, anyhow, 'Gorman. Thought I'd make him a cousin of yours. I've always rempm 44 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. bered him. Met him when I was over there In ninety-eight — damn him I (A silence.) Fai^ny (she rises). Well, nothing else for it 1 Got to tell him it was all a pack of Ues. Not blaming you, old boy — my fault. Didn't know he was going to ask any questions, or I'd have told him myself. Bit ^i bad luck, that's all. Nevvte. Why must you tell him ? Only upset him. Fanny. It's either my telling him or leaving it for them to do. You know me, George. How long do you see me being bossed and bullied by my own ser- vants ? Besides, it's bound to come out in any case. Newte [he rises. Kindly but firmly he puts her hack into her chair. Then pacing to and fro with his hands mostly in his trousers' pockets, he talks). Now, you listen to me, old girl. I've been your business manager ever since you started in. I've never made a mistake before — {he turns and faces her) — and I haven't made one this time. Fanny. I don't really see the smartness, George, stuffing him up with a lot of Hes he can find out for himself. Newte. // he wants to. A couple of telegrams, one to His Grace the Bishop of Waiapu, the other to Judge Denis O'Gorman, Columbus, Ohio, would have brought him back the information that neither gentle- men had ever heard of you. If he hadn't been careful not to send them. He wasn't marrying you with the idea of strengthening his family connexions. He was marrying you because he was just gone on you. Couldn't help himself. Fanny. In that case, you might just as well have told him the truth. Newte. Which he would then have had to pass on to everv one entitled to ask Questions. Can't von under- FANinr AND THE SERVA^TT PROBLEM. 45 Btand ? Somebody, in the interests of everybod}' , had to tell a lie. Well, what's a business manager for ? Fanny. But I can't do it, George. You don't know them. The longer I give in to them the worse they'U get. Newte. Can't you square them ? Fanny. No. that's the trouble. They are honest. They're the " faithful retainers " out of amelodrama. They are working eighteen hours a day on me not for advantage to themselves, because they think it their " duty " to the family. They don't seem to have any use for themselves at all. Newte. Well, what about the boy ? Can't he talk to them ? Fanny. Vernon ! They've brought him up from a baby — spanked him all round, I expect. Might as well ask a boy to talk to his old schoolmaster. Besides, if he did talk, then it would all come out. As I tell you, it's bound to come out — and the sooner the better. Newte. It must not come out I It's too late. If we /ia^ told him at the beginning that he was propos- ing to marry into his own butler's family — well, it's an awkward situation — he might have decided to risk It. Or he might have cried off. Fanny. And a good job if he had. Newte. Now talk sense. You wanted him — you took a fancy to him from the beginning. He's a nice boy, and there's somethiiig o\^ing to him. {It is his trump card, and he knows it.) (Fanny winces.) Don't forget that. He's been busy, explaining to all his friends and relations why they should receive you with open arms ; really nice girl, born gentle- woman, good old Church of England famih. no objection possible. For you to s]>ring the tnith u{X)n him now. Well, it doesn't seem to me quite iaii' tc him. i6 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Fanny. Then am I to live all my life dressed as • charity girl ? Newte. You keep your head and things will gradu- ally right themselves. This family of yours — they've got some sense, I suppose ? Fanny. Never noticed any sign of it myself. Newte. Maybe you're not a judge. (Laughs.) They'll listen to reason. You let me have a talk to them, one of these days ; see if I can't show them — first one and then the other — the advantage of leaving to " better " themselves — with the help of a little ready money. Later on — choosing your proper time — you can break it to him that you have discovered they're distant connexions of yours, a younger branch of the family that you'd forgotten. Give the show time to settle down into a run. Then you can begin to make changes. Fanny. You've a wonderful way with you, George. It always sounds right as you put it — even when one jolly well knows that it isn't. (Laughs.) Newte (laughs). Well, it's always been right for you, old girl, ain't it ? Fanny. Yes. You've been a rattling good friend. {She takes his hands). Almost wish I'd married you instead. We'd have been more suited to one another. Newte (shakes his head.) Nothing Uke having your fancy. You'd never have been happy without him. (He releases her.) 'Twas a good engagement, or I'd never have sanctioned it. Fanny. I suppose it will be the last one you will ever get me. (She has dropped for a moment into a brown study.) Newte (he turns). I hope so. Fanny (she throzvs off her momentary mood with a laugh) . Poor fellow 1 You never even got your commission. Newte. I'll take ten per cent, of aU your happiness, old girl. So make it as much as you can for my benefit. Good-bye. (He holds out hand.) FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 41 Fanny. You're not going ? You'll stop to lunch ? Newte. Not to-day. Fanny. Do. If you don't they'll think it's because I was frightened to ask you. Newte. All the better. The more the other party thinks he's having his way, the easier always to get ycmr own. Your trouble is, you know, that you never had any tact. Fanny. I hate tact. (Newte laughs.) We could have had such a jolly little lunch together. I'm all alone till the evening. There were ever so many things I wanted to talk to you about. Newte. What ? Fanny. Ah, how can one talk to a man with his watch in his hand ? {He puts it away and stands waitv g, hut she is cross,) I think you're very disagreeable. Newte. I must really get back to town. I oughtn't to be away now, only your telegram Fanny. I know. I'm an ungrateful little beast 1 {She crosses and rings hell,) You'll have a glass o\ champagne before you go ? Newte, Well, I won't say no to that. Fanny. How are all the girls ? Newte. Oh, chirpy. I'm bringing them over to London. We open at the Palace next month. Fanny. What did they think of my marriage / Gerty was a bit jealous, wasn't she ? Newte. Well, would have been, if she'd known who he was. (Laughs.) Fanny. Tell her. Tell her — [she draws herself up) — I'm Lady Bantock, of Bantock Hall, Rutlandshire It will make her so mad. [Laughs.) Newte (laughs). I will. Fanny. Give them all my love. i8 FANNY AND THE SB^RVANT PROBLEM. (Enter Ernest l. c.) Oh, Ernest, tell Bennet ^i^RNEST, his eyes and mouth open.) To see that Mr. Newte has some refreshment before he leaves. A glass of champagne and — and some caviare. Don't forget. Good-bye. You'll come again ? Newte. Whenever you want me — and rememfc>er — the watchword is " Tact I " (They are by the door. Ernest is ahead.) Fanny. Yes, I've got the word all right. (Laughs.) Don't forget to give my love to the girls, Newte. I won't. So long 1 (He goes out.) (Fanny closes the door and comes down. Honoria has re-entered from the dressing-room. She looks from, the handkerchief still hanging over the keyhole to Fanny.) Honoria. Your ladyship's handkerchief ? Fanny. Yes. Such a draught through that key- hole. \lo^OR\h [takes the handkerchief , hands it to Fanny). I will tell the housekeeper. Fanny. Thanks. Maybe you will also mention it to the butler. Possibly also to the — (She suddenly changes.) Honoria. Suppose it had been you — you know, you're awfully pretty — who had married Lord Bantock, and he had brought you back here, among them all — uncle, aunt, aU the lot of them — what would you have done ? Honoria (she draws herself «/>). I should have made it quite plain from the tirst, that / was mistress, and that they were my servants. Fanny. You would, you think Wo^ORiK [checking her outburst). But then, dear — vou will excuse my speaking plainly — there is a slight FAXNY AXD THE vSERVANT PHORLEM. 49 ^ififf-rence between the two cases. (She seats herself on the settee.) (Fanny %s standing near the desk.) You see, what we all feel about you, dear, is — that you are — well, hardly a fit wife for liis lordship. (Fanny's hands are itching to box the girl's ears. 1 <> sa7)e herself she grinds out through her teeth the word " Tack 1 ") Of course, dear, it isn't altogether your fault. Fanny. Thanks. Honoria. Your mother's marriage was most unfortunate. Fanny (her efforts to suppress her feelings are just — hut only just — successful). Need we discuss that } Honoria. Well, he was an Irishman, dear, there's no denying it. (Fanny takes a cushion from a chair — with her hack to Honoria, she strangles it. Enter Jane l,c. She stands listening.) Still, perhaps It Is a painful subject. And we hope — aU of U6 — that, with time and patience, we may siicceed in eradicating the natural results of your brirgmg-up. Janh. Some families, finding themselves in our position, would seek to turn it to their own advantage. We tliink only of your good. Fanny. Yes, that's what I feel — that you are worry- ing yourselves too much about me. Your* re too conscientious, all of you. You, in particular, Jane, because you know you're not strong. You'll end up with a nervous break down. (Enter Mrs. Bennet l. Honoria nips up.) (She turns to her aunt.) J was just saying how anxious I'm getting about Jane. 1 don't like the look of her 80 FANNY AND THE SSRVAJST PROBLEM. at all. What she wants is a holiday. Don't yon agree with me ? Mrs. B. There will be no holiday, I fear, for any of us, for many a long day. Fanny. But you must. You must think more ol yourselves, you know, you're not looking well, aunt, at all. What you both want is a month — at the seaside. Mrs. B. Your object is too painfully apparent for the subject to need discussion. True solicitude for us would express itself better in greater watchfulness upon your own behaviour. Fanny. Why, what have I done ? (Enter Bennet l. c, followed, unwillingly, by Ernest.) Mrs. B. Your uncle will explain. Bennet. Shut that door. (Ernest does so. They group l. round Bennet— Ernest a little behind. Fanny remains R. Sit down. (Fanny, bewildered, speechless, sits r.) Carry your mind back, please, to the moment when, with the Bradshaw in front of you, you were consider- ing, with the help of your cousin Ernest, the possibiHty of your slipping out unobserved, to meet and commune with a person you had surreptitiously summoned to visit you during your husband's absence. Fanny. While I think of it, did he have anything to eat before he went ? I told Ernest to — ask you to see that he had a glass of champagne and a Bennet {waves her back into silence) . Mr. Newte was given refreshment — suitable to his station. {She goes to interrupt — again he waves her back.) We are speaking of more important matters. Your coo^n reminded you that you would have to pass the FANNY AND THE SERVx\NT PROBLEM. 51 lodge, occupied by your Aunt Amelia. I state the case correctly ? Fanny. Beautifully ! Bennet. I said nothing at the time, doubting the evidence of my own ears. The boy, however — where Is the boy ? — (Ernest is pushed forward.) has admitted — reluctantly — (he darts out the word straight at the boy) (Ernest instinctively raises his arm.) that he also heard it (.4 pause to gather solemnity,) You made use of an expression. Fanny. Oh, cut it short— I said " damn." (A shudder passes the Three Women.) I'm sorry to have frightened you, but if you knew a little more of really good society, you would know that ladies — quite slap-up ladies — when they're excited — do Mrs. B. {interrupting with almost a scream). She defends it 1 Bennet. You will allow me to be the judge of what a lady says — even when she is excited. As for this man, Newte Fanny. The best friend you ever had. (She is ** up " again.) You thank your stars, all of you, and tell the others, too, the whole blessed twenty- three of you — you thank your stars that I did " surrepti- tiously " beg and pray him to run down by the first train and have a talk with me ; and that Providence was kind enough to you to enable him to come. It's a very different tune you'd have been singing at this moment — all of you — if he hadn't. I can tell you that. Mrs. B. And pray, what tune s/?omW we have been singing if Providence hadn't been so thoughtful of us ? Fanny (site is about to answer, then checks herself. -2 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. ard sits again). You take care you don't find out — there's time yet. Mrs. B. We had better leave her. Bennet. Threats, my good girl, will not help you. Mrs. B. (with a laugh). She's in too tight a corner for that. Bennet. A contrite heart is what your aunt and I desire to see. {fie takes from his pocket a small book, places it open on the desk.) I have marked one or two passages, on pages 03-7. We will discuss them together — kiter in the daJ^ {They troop nut in silence, the key turns in the lock.) Fanny [takes up the book — turns to the cover, reads) '^ The Sinner's Manual." (She turns to paf,3 93.) ACT 111 Scene. The same. {The door L. C. opens. Ernest enters with tea-urn, etc , which he pt-uceeds to add to the other tea arrange- ments on table r. c. He leaves the door open ; through it comes the sound of an harmonium, accompanying the singing of a hymn. The voices cojne from belou Fanny enters l. She is dressed more cheerfully than in Act II, hut still " seemly.*' She has a book in her hand. She pauses, hearing the run sic. goes nearer to the open door, and listens ; then crosses and takes her place at the table. The mnsic ceases.) Fanny. Another prayer meeting ? (Ernest nods.) [With a short laugh.) I do keep 'em busy. Ernest. D'ye know what they call you down- stairs ? Fanny. What ? Ernest. The family cross. Fanny. I'm afraid it's about right. Ernest. What have you been doing this time ? Swearing again ? Fanny. Worse. I've been lying. (Ernest gives vent to a low whistle.) Said I didn't know what had become of that yellow popUn with the black lace flounces, that they've had altered for me. Found out that I'd given it to old Mother Potts for the rummage sale at the Vicarage. jana was down there. Bon^^lit it in lor liali a crown. «4 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Ernest. You are risky. Why, you might have known {Enter Vernon l. c. He is in golfing get-up. H throws his cap on to the settee.) Vernon. Hello, got a cup of tea there ? (Ernest goes out.) Fanny. Yes. Thought you were playing golf ? Vernon. Just had a telegram handed to me in the village — from your friend Newte. Wants me to meet him at Melton Station at five o'clock. (Looks ai his watch.) Know what he wants ? Fanny. Haven't the faintest idea. (She hands him his cup.) Is he coming here ? Or merely on his way somewhere ? Vernon. I don't know, he doesn't say. Fanny. Don't let him mix you up in any of his " ventures." Dear old George, he's as honest as the day, but if he gets hold of an " idea " there's always thousands in it for everybody. Vernon. I'll be careful. (Ernest has left the door open. The harmonium breaks forth again, together with vocal accompaniment as before.) What's on downstairs then — a party ? Fanny. Bennet is holding a prayer meeting. Vernon. A prayer meeting ? Fanny. One of the younger members of the family has been detected " telling a deliberate he." (Vernon is near the door listening, with his back towards her, or he would see that she is smiling.) Black sheep, I suppose, to be found in every flock. [Music ceases, Ernest having arrived with the news of Vernon's return.) Vernon (returning to the table, having closed the doott With enthusiasm.). Good old man, you know. Bennet FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 58 All of them I So high-principled I Don't often get servants like that nowadays Fanny. Seems almost selfish, keeping the whole collection to ourselves. Vernon {laughs). Ton my word it does. But what can we do ? They'll never leave us — not one of them. Fanny. No, I don't believe they ever will. Vernon. Do you know, I sometimes think that you don't like them. (Fanny makes a movement.) Of course, they are a bit bossy, I admit. But all that comes from their devotion, their Fanny. The wonder to me is that, brought up among them, admiring them as you do, you never thought of marr5dng one of them. Vernon (staggered). Marrying them ? Fanny. I didn't say " them." I said " one ol them." There's Honoria. She's pretty enough, anyhow. So's Alice, Charles Bennet's daughter, and Bertha and Grace. All of them beautiful. And what's even better still — good. (She says ii viciously,) Didn't you ever think of them ? Vernon. Well (laughs) — well, one hardly marries Into one's own kitchen. Fanny. Isn't that rather snobbish? You say they're more Hke friends than servants. They've lived with your people, side by side, for three generations, doing their duty — honourably. There's never been 9 slur upon their name. They're " lugh-principled." You know it. They've better manners than nine- tenths of your smart society, and they're healthy. What's wrong with them — even from a lord's point of view ? Vernon (recovering himself). Well, don't pitch intc me about it. It's your fault if I didn't marry them— I mean one of them. (He laughs, puts his empty cup back on the table.) Maybe I'd have thought aboul it — if I hadn't met you. 66 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Fanny (she laughs — takes his hand in hers). I wish you hadn't asked l\ewte any questions about me. It would have been so nice to feel that you had married me — just because you couldn't help it — {laughs) — just because I was I ; and nothing else mattered. Vernon. Let's forget I ever did. (He kneels hesids her,) I didn't do it for my own sake, as you know. A man in my position hus to think of other people. His wife has to take her place in society. People insist upon knowing something about her. It's not enough for the stupid " County " that she's the cleverest, most bewilderingly beautiful, bewitching lady in the land. Fanny (she laughs). And how long will you think all that ? Vernon. For ever, and ever, and ever. Fanny. Oh, you dear boy. (She kisses him.) You don't know how a woman loves the man she loves to love her. (Laughs.) Isn't that compUcated ? Vernon. Not at all. We're just the same. We love to love the woman we love. Fanny (laughs). Provided the " County " will let us. And the County has said : A man may not marry his butler's niece. Vernon (laughing). You've got butlers on the brain. If ever I do run away with my own cook or under-housemaid, it will be your doing. Fanny. You haven't the pluck 1 The " County " would laugh at you. You men are so frightened of being laughed at. Vernon (he rises). Well, if it saves us from making asses of ourselves Fanny. Wasn't there a niece of old Bennet's — a girl who had been brought up abroad, and who wasn't a domestic servant — never had been — who stayed with them here, at the gardener's cottage, for a short time, some few years ago ? Vernon. You mean poor Rose Bennet's daughtei — the one who ran away and marned an organ-grin ier FANNT AN^D THE SERVANT PROBLEM. S7 Fanny. An organ-grinder ? Vernon. Something of that sort — yes. They had her over ; did all they could. A crazy sort of ghi ; used to sing French ballads on the village green to all the farm labourers she could collect. Shortened poor Bennet's life by about ten years. (Laughs.) (Fanny joins him.) But why ? Not going to bully me for not having fallen in love with her, are you ? Because that really wasn't my fault. I never even saw her. 'Twas the winter we spent in Rome. She bolted before we got back. Never gave me a chance. Fanny. I accept the excuse. [Laughs.) No, I was merely wondering what the " County " would have done if by any chance you had married her. Couldn't have said you were marrjdng into your own kitchen in her case, because she was never in your kitchen — abeolately refused to enter it, I'm told. Vernon (laughs). It would have been a "nice point," as they say in legal circles. If people had liked her they'd have tried to forget tliat her cousins had ever been scullcry-maids. If not, they'd have taken good care that nobody did, {Enter Bennet, He brings some cut flowers, with the *' placing** of which he occupies himself. ) Bennet. I didnotknowyour lordship had returned. Vernon. Found a telegran:\ waiting for me in the village. What's become of that niece of yours, Bennet — your sister Rose's daughter, who was here for a short time and ran away again ? Ever heai anything about her ? Bennet (he is L., his back to the room. Very quietly he turns, lets his eyes for a moment meet Fanny's. Then answers as he crosses R.). The last I heard about her was that she was married. •8 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Vernon (l.) Satisfactorily ? Bennet {arranging ftowers r.). Looking at it froni her point of view — most satisfactorily. Vernon {laughs). But looking at it from his — more doubtful ? Bennet. She was not without her attractions. Her chief faults, I am inclined to think, were those arising from want of discipHne in youth ; I have hopes that It is not even yet too late to root out from her nature the weeds of — indiscretion. Vernon. And you think he is the man to do it ? Bennet. Perhaps Dot. But fortunately there are those about her fully alive to the duty devolving upon them. Vernon. Um. Sounds a little bit Hke penal servi- tude for the poor girl, the way you put it, Bennet. {Laughs.) Bennet. Even penal servitude may be a blessing If it serves to correct a stubborn spirit. Vernon. We'll have to make you a J. P., Bennet. Must be jolly careful I don't ever get tried before you. {Laughs.) Is that the cart ? Bennet {he looks out through the window) . Yes, your lordship. Vernon {he takes up his cap). I may be bringing some one back viith me. {To Fanny, who throughoui has remained seated R.C.) Why not put on your hat — come with me ? Fanny {she jumps up, delighted). Shall I ? Bennet. Your ladyship is not forgetting that to-day is Wednesday ? Fanny. What's the odds. There's nobody to call. Everybody is still in town. Bennet. It has always been the custom of the Lady Bantocks, when in residence, to be at home on Wednesdays. Vernon. Perhaps better not. It may cause talk ; If, by chance, an5^body does come. I was forgettmg It was Wednesday. FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 5t (Fanny sits again.) I shan't do anything without consulting you Good- bye. Fanny. Good-bye. (He goes out. Slams the door.) Bennet. You think it wise, discussing with his lordsliip the secret history of the Bennet family ? Fanny. What do you mean by telling him my father was an organ-grinder ? If the British pubUc knew the difference between music and a hurdy-gurdy he would have kept a butler of his own. Bennet. I am not aware of having mentioned to his lordship that you ever to my knowledge even had a father. It is not my plan, for the present at all events, to inform his lordship anything about your family. Take care I am not forced to. Fanny. Because my father, a composer who had his work performed at the Lamoureux Concerts — as I can prove, because I've got the programme — had the misfortune to marry into a family of lackeys — I'm not talking about my mother • she was never really one of you. She had the soul of an artist. Bennet [white with suppressed fury ; he is in front of her ; his very look is enough to silence her). Now you listen to me, my girl, once and for all. I told you the night of 37our arrival that whether this business was going to prove a pleasant or an unplea- sant one depended upon you. You make it an easy one — for your own sake. With one word I can bring your house of cards about your ears. I've only to tell him the truth for him to know you as a cheat and liar. (She goes to speak ; again he silences her.) You listen to me. You've seen fit to use strong language ; now I'm using strong language. This boy, who has married you in a moment of impulse what does he know about the sort of wife a man Id so FANNY ANT) THE SERVANT PROBLEM. his position needs ? What do you ? made to sing for your Hving on the Paris boulevards — whose only acquaintance with the upper classes has been at shady restaurants. Fanny. He didn't want a woman ot his own class. He told me so. It was because I wasn't a colourless, conventional puppet with a book of etiquette in place of a soul that he was first drawn towards me. Bennet. Yes. At twenty-two. Boys like un- conventionaUty. Men don't : they've learnt its true name, vulgarity. Do you think I've stood behind English society for forty years without learning anything about it I What you call a colourless puppet is what we call an English lady. And that you've got to learn to be. You talk of " lackeys." H your mother, my poor sister Rose, came from a family of " lackeys " there would be no hope for you. With her blood in your veins the thing can be done. We Bennets — [he draws himself up) — we serve. We are not lackeys. Fanny. All right. Don't you call my father an organ-grinder. I won't call you lackeys. Unfor- tunately that doesn't end the trouble. Bennet. The trouble can easily be ended. Fanny. Yes. By my submitting to be ruled in all things for the remainder of my life by my own servants. Bennet. Say "relations," and it need not sound so unpleasant. Fanny. Yes, it would. It would sound worse. One can get rid of one's servants. {She has crossed towards the desk. Her cheque-book lies there half hidden under other papers. It catches her eye. Her hand steals unconsciously towards it. She taps it idly with her fingers. It is all the work of a moment. Nothing comes of it. Just the idea passes through her brain : not for the first time. She does nothing noticeable — merely stands listless while one might count half a dozen — Ihen turns to him again.) Don't you think FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEAL «! you're going it a bit too strong, all of you ? I'm not a fool. I've got a lot to learn, 1 know. I'd be graicjid for help. What you're trying to do is to turn me into a new woman entirely. Bennet. Because that is the only way to help you. Men do not put new wine into old bottles. Fanny. Oh, don't begin quoting ScrijAure. I want to discuss the thing sensibly. Don't you see, it can't be done. I can't be anybody else than myself. I don't want to. Bennet. My girl, you've got to be. Root and branch, inside and outside, before you're fit to be Lady Bantock, mother of the Lord Bantocks that are to be, you've got to be a changed woman. [A pause.) Fanny. And it's going to be youi job, from begin- ning to end ; yours and the rest of you. What I wear and how 1 look is jane's affair. My prayers will be for what Aunt Susannah thinks I stand in need of. What I eat and drink and say and do you will arrange for me. And when you die. Cousin Simeon, I suppose, will take your place. And when Aunt Susannah dies it will merely be a change to Aunt AmeUa. And if Jane ever dies, Honoria will have the dressing and the lecturing of me. And so on and so on, world without end, for ever and ever, Amen. (She has crossed to window. Stands looking out.) Bennet. Before that time, you will, I shall hope, have learnt sufficient sense to be grateful to us. (He goes out L.c.) Fanny (she turns — walks slowly hack towards the tea-table. Halfway she pauses, and leaning over the hack of a chair regards in silence for awhile the portrail of the first Lady Bantock). I do wish I could tell what vrxn - t>re savin*» •2 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. (The door opens. The MissES Wetherell come in They wear the same frocks as in first Act. They pause. Fanny is still gazing at the portrait.) Elder. Don't you notice it, dear ? Younger. Yes. There really is. Elder. It struck me the first day. (To Fanny, who has turned.) Your likeness, dear, to Lady Constance. It's really quite remarkable. Fanny. You think so ? Younger. It's your expression — when you are serious. Fanny (laughs). I must try to be more serious. Elder It will come, dear. (They take their places side by side on the settee.) Younger (to her sister with a pat of the hand) In good time. It's so nice to have her young I wonder If anybody'll come this afternoon. Elder (to Fanny). You see, dear most of the county people are still in town. Fanny (who is pouring out tea — laughs). I'm not grumbling Elder. Oh, you'll like them, dear. The Crackle- thorpes especially. (To her sister for confirmation ) Bella Cracklethorpe is so clever. Younger. And the Engells. She'll like the Engells. All the Engell girls are so pretty. (Fanny brings over two cups of tea) Thank you, dear. Elder (as she takes her cup — patting Fanny's hand). And they'll like you, dear, all of them Fanny (returning to table). I hope so. Elder. It's wonderful, dear — you won't mind my saying it ? — how you've improved. (Fanny winces) Younger. Of course it was such a change for you FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 63 And at first (ttirns to her sister) we were a little anxious about her, weren't we ? • (Fanny has returned to them with the cake basket.) Elder [as she takes a piece). Bennet (she ling.ir$ on the name as that of an authority) was sapng only yesterday that he had great hopes of you. Younger (Fanny is handing the basket to her). Thank you, dear. Elder. I told Vernon. He was so pleased. Fanny (her brows contract. She bites her lip. Vernon was ? Elder. He attaches so much importance to Bennet's opinion. Fanny. Um. I'm glad I appear to be givmg satisfaction. (She has returned to her seat at the table ) I suppose when — you go to town, you take the Ben nets with you ? Elder (surprised at the question). Of course, dear. Younger. Vernon didn't wish to go this ysar. He thought you would prefer Fanny. I was merely thinking of when he dia. Do you ever go abroad for the winter ? So many people do, nowadays. Elder. We tried it once But there was nothing for dear Vernon to do You see, he's so fond ol hunting. Younger (to her sister). And then there will be his Parhamentary duties that he will have to take ap uow j (Fanny rises, ibruptly.) Elder. You're not ill, dear f Fanny. No. Merely felt I wanted some air (She goes to window.) You dont mind, do you 1 {She flings a casement open.) Younger. Not at all, dean. (To her sister.) li is a bit close. W FANNY AND TITE SERVANT I'HOBLEAL Elder. One could really do without fires. (Fanny remains by the window.) Younger. If it wasn't for the evenings. Elder. And then, of course, the cold weathet might come again. One can never feel safe until (The door opens. Dr. Freemantle enters. An- notinced by Bennet. The Old Ladies go to rise. He stops them.) Dr. F. Don't get up. (He shakes hands with them.) How are we this afternoon ? {He shakes his head and clicks his tongue.) Really, I think 1 shall have to bring an action for damages against Lady Bantock. Ever since she Elder. Hush! (She points to the window.) Fanny Younger. Here's Doctor Freemantle. (Fanny comes from the window.) Dr. F. (he meets her and takes her hand). Was jusf saying, I really think I shall have to claim damages against you, Lady Bantock. You've practically deprived me of two of my best paying patients. Used to be sending for me every other day before you came. Now look at them I (The Ladies laugh.) Dr. F. She's not as bad as we expected. (He pats her hand.) Do you remember my description of what I thought she was going to be Uke ? (Laughs.) Younger. She's a dear girl. Elder. Bennet Fanny (she has crossed to table — is pouring out iha Doctor's tea). Oh, mightn't we have a holiday from Bennet ? Dr. F. (laughs). Seems to be having a hohday himself to-day Youngf.r. a hohday ? Dr. F. Didn't you know ? Oh. there'*; an awfnllv FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. fN •wa.sff^er party on downstairs. They were all troop- ing in as I came. Younger. I'd no idea he was giving a party. {To Fanny.) Did you. dear ? Fanny (she hands the Doctor his tea). Yes. It's a prayer meeting. The whole family, I expect, has been summoned. Dr. F. a prayer meeting I Didn't look like it. Elder. But why should he be holding a prayer meeting ? Fanny (she is about to hand him the cake — wearily). Oh, one of the family Dr. F. And why twelve girls in a van ? Younger. In a van ? (Fanny pauses — the basket in her hand,) Dr. F. One of Hutton's from the Station Hotel— with a big poster pinned on the door : " Our Empire." (Fanny has put down the basket. She crosses swiftly- ■ rings a bell.) Younger. What's the matter, dear ? Fanny. I'm not quite sure yet. (Her whole manner is changed. A look has come into her eyes that has not been there before. She speaks in quiet, deter- mined tones. She rings again. Then retimiing to table, hands the plate again to the Doctor.) Won't you take one, doctor. They're not as indigestible as they look. (Laughs.) Dr. F. (in common with the Old Ladies, he is be- wildered at the changed atmosphere. Helps himself.) Thank you. I hope I (Enter Ernest.) ^ Fanny (she turns to him. Her tone, for the first time, is that of a mistress speaking to her servants). Have any visitors called for me this afternoon ? Ernest. Vi— visitors— ? Fanny. Some ladies. M FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM Ernest (he is in a slough of doubt and terror) L — ladies ? Fanny. Yes. Please try and understand the English language. Has a party of ladies called here this afternoon ? Ernest. There have been some ladies. They — we Fanny. Where are they ? Ernest. They — I Fanny. Send Bennet up to me. Instantly, please. (Ernest, only too glad to be off, stumbles out.) Younger. My dear Fanny. You'll take some more tea, won't you. Do you mind, doctor, passing Miss Wetherell's cup. And the other one. Thank you. And will you pass them the biscuits. You see, I am doing all I can on your behalf. {She is talking and laughing — a little hysterically — for the purpose of filling time.) Tea and hot cake — could anything be worse for them ? Dr. F. Well, tea, you know Fanny. I know. [Laughs.) You doctors are aD alike. You all denounce it, but you all drink it. {She hands him the two cups.) That one is for Aunt Wetherell of the beautiful hair ; and the other is for Aunt Wetherell of the beautiful eyes. {Laughs.) It's the only way I can distinguish them. (Bennet enters,) Oh, Bennet! Bennet. You sent for me ? Fanny. Yes. I understand some ladies have called. Bennet. I think your ladyship must have been misinformed. I most certainly have seen none. Fanny. I have to assume. Bennet, that either Dr. Freeman tie or you are telling lies. {A silence.) FANNY AND THE SERVANT t^KOBLEM. ^ Bennet. a party of over-dressed young women, claiming to be acquainted with your ladyship, have arrived in a van. I am giving them tea in the ser- vants' hall, and will see to it that they are sent back to the station in ample time to catch their train back to town. Fanny. Please show them up. They will havt their tea here. (Both up to this point have spoken with studied quietness. Both feel this is a fight to a finish.) Bennet (her very quietness is beginning to alarm him. It shakes him from his customary perfection of manners) . The Lady Bantocks do not as a rule receive circus girls in their boudoir. Fanny [still with her alarming quietness). Neither do they argue with their servants. Please show these ladies in. Bennet. I warn you Fanny. You heard my orders. {Her tone has the right ring. The force of habit is too strong upon him. He yields — savagely — and goes out.) (Her whole manner is changed. A load has been lifted from her. ^ For the first — even if it be for the last time zlso — she is going to be mistress in her own house. She turns to the Doctor.) So sorry I had to drag you Into it. (With a laugh.) I didn't see how else I was going to floor him. Dr. F. Splendid I (He grips her hand.) Fanny {^he goes to the Old Ladies, who sit beinl- dered, terrified). They won't be here for more than a few minutes — they can't be. I want you to be nice to them — both of you. They are friends of mine. (She speaks in a tone of quiet authority — she tarns to the Doctor.) They're the girls I used to act with. Wc *'.-cnt all over Europe — tvv-elve of us — representing «8 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. the British Empire. {With a laugh.) They are play* ing in London now. Dr. F. To-night ? (He looks at his watch.) Fanny {she is busy at the tea-table). Yes. They are on the stage at lialf-past nine. You might look out their train for them. {She points to the timetable on the desk.) I don't suppose they've ever thought about how they're going to get back. It's Judy'3 inspiration, this, the whole thing ; I'd bet upon it. {With a laugh.) She always was as mad as a March hare. Dr. F. {busy with the timetable). They were nice- looking girls. Fanny. Yes. I think we did the old man credit. {With a laugh.) John Bull's daughters, they called ns in Paris. (Bennet enters.) Bennet {announces). Our Empire. {^Headed by " England," the Girls, laughing, crowding, jostling one another, talking all together, swoop in.) England [a lady with a decided Cockney accent). Oh, my dear, talk about an afternoon I We 'ave 'ad a treat getting 'ere. (Fanny kisses her.) Scot, {they also kiss). Youi boss told us you'd gone out. Fanny. It was a slight — misunderstanding ; Ben- net, take away these things, please. And let me have half a dozen bottles of champagne. Straits Settleme.nts {a stnall girl at t'r back of the crowd — with a shrill voice). Ilooray ! Bennet {he is controlling himself with the hutremesi difficulty. Within he is a furnace). I'm afraid I have mislaid the key of the cellar. Fanny {she looks at him). You will please find it— quickly. FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 61/ (Bennet, again from habit yields. But his con- trol almost fails him. He takes up the tray of un- needed tea things from the table.) (In a lower voice.) I shall want some mor* of all these. [Cakes, fruit, sandwiches, etc.) And some people to wait. Tell Jane she must come and help, (Bennet goes out.) (During his passage of arms between mistress and man a momentary lull has taken place in the hubbub. As he goes out it begins to grow again.) England. *E does tease yer, don't *e ? Wanted us to 'ave tea — in the kitchen. Fanny. Yes. (With a laugh.) These old family servants Africa (she prides herself on being " quite the lady.'* A girl with a " highty-tighty " voice.) Don't talk about 'em, dear. We had just such another. [She turns to a girl near her.) Oh, they'll run the whole show for you if you let 'em. England. It was Judy's idea, our giving you this little treat. Don't you blime me for it. Wales (a small, sprightly girl — with a childish, laughing voice). Well, we were all together with nothing better to do. They'd called a rehearsal and then found they didn't want us — silJy fools. I told 'em you'd just be tickled to death. Fanny [laughing — kisses her). So I am. It was a brilliant idea. [By this time she has kissed or shaken hands with the whole dozen.) I can't introduce you all singly, it would take too long. [She makes a whole- sale affair of it.) My aunts, the Misses Wetherell — Dr. Freeman tie. [The Misses W., suggesting two mice being intr to a party of friendly kittens, standing L., cl* one another, making an heroic smile, nmr iking inaudible.) 10 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM, Dr. F. [who is with them, to comfort them — he has fot rid of the timetable, discreetly — smiles). Delighted. England. Charmed. (Some of the Girls, behind her, murmur similar ejaculations.) (To Fanny.) Glad we didn't strike one of your busy- day s. I say, you're not as dressy as you used to be. 'Ow are they doin^ you, all right ? Fanny. Yes. Oh, yes. Canada (" Geriy*' a big, handsome girl — with 4 loud commanding voice). George gave me your message. Fanny {puzzled at first). My message ? {Remem- bering — laughs.) Oh. That I was Lady Bantock of Bantock Hall. Yes. I thought you'd be pleased Canada. Was delighted, dear. Fanny. So glad. Canada. I'd always had the idea that you were going to make a mess of your miTiage. Fanny. What a funny idea. {B1^'. the laugh thai accompanies it is not a merry one.) Canada. Wasn't it ? So glad I was wrong. Wales. We're all of us looking out for lords in disguise, now. Can't you give us a tip, dear, how to tell 'em ? Scotland. Sukey has broken it off with her boy. Found he was mixed up in trade. Straits Settlements {as before, unseen at back of crowd). No. I didn't. 'Twas his moral character. (Enter HONORIA, with glasses on a tray ; Ernest with champagne ; Jane with eatables ; Bennet with a napkin. (It is a grim procession.) The Girls are scattered, laughing, talking : Africa to the Misses W. , a couple to Dr. F. These are all near the settee. Others are by the window. England, Scotland. Wales and Canada are with Fanny, r. c. Tht h'ubbith, with the advent of the refreshments, increases There is a general movement towards th^ ce^ire.\ FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. T1 Fanny. Thanks, Rennet. You can clear away a corner of the desk. England (aside to her.) Go easy with it, dear. (Fanny, smiling, nods. She crosses to desk to direct operations in a low tone to the Rennets, who take her orders in grim silence and lips tight shut.) England. Don't forget, girls, that we've got tc get back to-night. (Aside to the Doctor, who has come forward to help.) Some of *em, you know, ain't used to it. Dr. F. (nods). Glasses not too full. (He crosses- whispers to Fanny.) Ireland (a decided young woman). How much time have we got ? England. Don't ask me. It's Judy's show. Wales (mimicking Newte). The return train, ladies, leaves Oakham station. (Stops— she is facing the clock. She begins to laugh.) England. What's the matter ? Wales (still laughing). We've got just quarter of an hour to catch it. {There is a wild rush for the refreshments. Jane is swept off her feet. Rennet's tray is upset.) England. Quarter — ! Oh, my Gawd I Here, tuck up your skirts, girls. We'll have to Dr. F. It's all right. You've got plenty of time, ladies. {The excitement calms.) (To England.) There's a train from Norton on the branch line at 5.33. Gets you into London at a quarter to nine. England. You're sure ? Dr. F. (he has his watch in his hand) Quite sure. The station is only half a mile away. En'GLAND. Don't let's miss it. K'^c-p your wale b In your hand, there's a deaj. 7« FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Fanny (her business is — and has been — to moiM :{iiietly through the throng, making the Girls welcome, talking, laughing with them, directing the servants — .'// in a lady's way. On the whole she does it re- narkably well. She is offering a plate of fruit to [UDY.). You're a nice acting manager, you are. (Wales laughs.) [She finds herself in front of Ireland — to England.) Won't you introduce us. England. I beg your pardon, dear. Of course, you don't know each other. Miss Tetsworth, our new Ireland, Lady Bantock. It is '* Bantock," isn't it, dear ? Fanny. Quite right. It's a good little pait, isn't it? Ireland. Well, depends upon what you've been used to. England. She's got talent, as I tell 'er. But she ain't you, dear. It's no good saying she is. Fanny {hastening to smooth it over). People always speaks so well of us after we're gone. (Laughs.) You'll take another glass of champagne. (They an near desk.) Ireland. Thank you — you made a great success, they tell me, in the part. Fanny. Oh, there's a deal of fluke about these things. You see, I had the advantage Dr. F. (with watch still in his hand). I ihinkt ladies England. Come on, girls. {A general movement.) Fanny. You must all come again — spend a whola day — some Sunday. Canada. Remember me to Vernon. Fanny. He'll be so sorry to have England (cutting in). 'Ope we 'aven't upset you, dear. (She is bustling them all up.) FANNY AND THE SERVA]^:T PROBLE^^L 73 Fanny. Not at all. (She is shakhig hands nith the (.jiRLS.) It's been so good to see you all again. England. 'Urry up, girls, there's dears. (They have all passed her,) Good-bye, dear. [Kissing her) We do miss yer. Fanny. I'm glad you do. England. Oh, it ain't the same show. {The others are crowding out of the door. She and Fanny are quite apart.) (She glances round.) No chance of your coming bacV to it, I suppose ? (A moment.) Well there, you never know, do yer ? Good-bye, dear. {Kisses her again.) Fanny. Good-bye 1 (She stands k., watching them out.) (Bennet goes down with them.) (Ernest is busy collecting debris. The Misses W. are L., their arms round one another. Dr. F. stands l., looking at Fanny with an expectant expression. Jane and Honoria stand one each side of the table, rigid, with set faces. After a moment Fanny goes to the open windmv. The voices of the Girls below, crowding into the van, come up into the room.) (Calling down to them.) Good-bye. You've plenty of time. What ? Yes, of course. [Laughs.) All right. Good-bye. [She tarns, comes slowly back into the room. She looks at Jane and Honoria, where they stand rigid.) (Honoria makes a movement with her shouldersr-' takes a step tow irds the door.) Fanny. Honoria 1 (Honoria stops — slowly turns.) You can take away these glasses. Jane will help you U FAKN'Y AXD THE SERVANT PROBLEM. (Bennet re-efUers.) HoNORiA. It's not my place Fanny. Your place is to obey my orders. Bennet [Ins coolness seems to have deserted hifn. His voice is trembling). Obey her ladyship's orders, both of you. Leave the rest to me. (HoNORiA and Jane busy themselves with Ernesi setting the room to rights.) Mciy I speak with your ladyship ? Fanny. Certainly. Bennet. Alone, I mean. Fanny. I see no need. Bennet [her firmness takes him aback. He expected to find her defiance disappear with the cause of it. But pig-headed, as all Bennets, her opposition only drives him on). Your ladyship is not forgetting the alterna- tive ? (The Old Ladies have been watching the argument much as the babes in the wood might have watched the discussion between the two robbers.) Elder (in terror). Bennet 1 you're not going to give notice ! Bennet. What my duty may be, I shall be able to decide after I have spoken with her ladyship — alone. Younger. Dear 1 You will see him ? Fanny. I am sorry. I have not the time. Younger. No. Of course. {Appealing to BEt^i^El for mercy.) Her ladyship is tired. To-morrow Fanny {interrupting). Neither to-morrow— nor any other day. (Vernon enters, followed by Newte.) {She advances to meet them.) You've just missed some old friends of yours. {She shake hands with Newte.) Vprnon. So it seems. We were hoping to havp FAirar A^TD THE SKRVANT PROBLEM 75 been in linie. {To Newte.) The niare came along pretty slick, didn't she ? Bennet {he has remained with his look fixed all thd time on Fanny). May I speak with y(>ui lonlship a moment — in priv^ate ? Vernon. Now ? Bennet. It is a matter that needs to be settled, now. {It is the tone of respectful aiUhority he has always u-^ed towards the lad.) Vernon. Well, if it's as pressing as all that I suppose you must. {He makes a movement towards the door R. — to Newte.) Shan't be long. Fanny (c). One moment. {Vernon stops.) I may be able to render the interview needless. Who is mistress ot this house ? Vernon (r.). Who is mistress ? Fanny. Who is mistress of your house ? Vernon. Why you are, of course. Fanny. Thank you. {She turns to B^k'S'EI, who has remained L.) PJease tell Mrs. Bennet I want her,. Bennet. I think if your lordship Fanny. At once. [She is looking at him. He struggles — look'^ at Vernon But Vernon is evidently inclined to support Fanny. Bennet goes out.) (Fanny crosses and seats herself at the desk. She takes from a drawer some yicatly-folded papers. Sh^ busies herself with figures.) Vernon {he crosses to his Adnts). Wliatever's th«» matter ? Elder. She is excited. She has had a very trying time. Younger. Bennet didn't like the idea of her receiving them. Newte. It was thai minx Tudv's doine^. They'U 79 FANNY AND TIIE SERVANT PROBLEM. have the rough side of my tmig^e when I get back— all of them. Vernon. Wliat does she want with Mrs. Bennet ? Elder. I can't think. (Vernon and the Misses W. are standing in a group together. Ne wte, belcm' them, a Utile apart. Dr. F. t.? by himself (l.), an interested spectator, waiting develop- ments. Jane, Honoria a7\d Ernest are still busy abotU the room.) (Newte, suddenly the whole thing comes to him. Hts hands go up and his mouih opens. He turns. Mrs. Bennet, /o/Zoi^'eioy Bennet. ^7z/dr. Newte sees ii is too late. Hts hands 7nake a gesture of despair. He shrugs his shoulders. Moves away farther L. Dr. F. has been watching. He smiles grimly.) Mrs. B. (l.) Your lad\^ship sent for me ? Fanny. Yes. [She half turns — holds out a paper.) This wages sheet is quite correct, I take it ? It is your own. Mrs. B. [she has crossed — she takes it). Quite correct. Fanny {she tears out a cheque she has written-r- hands it to Mrs. B.), You will find there two months* wages for the entire family. I have made it out in a lump sum payable to your husband. The other month is in Heu of notice. {A silence. The thing strikes them all dumb.) {She puts the cheque-book back and closes the drawei She rises.) I'm sorry. There's been a mir.undei- standing. It's time that it ended. It has been mv own fault. {She is c. — to Vernon.) I deceived yor about my family Newth. Tf there's been any deceit Fanny {ctUs him short). My scene, please, George. (Newte, knowing her, shrugs his shoulders and return? again in sileiu:e.) FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 77 1 have no relations outside this country that I know of. My uncle is Martin Bennet, your butler. Mn. Bennet is my aunt. (Bennet has remained L. Mrs. B. is R. Jane, HoNORiA and Ernest are just above her R.) I'm not ashamed of them. If they'd had as much respect for me as I have for them, tliis trouble would not have arisen. We don't get on together, that's all. And this seems to me the only way out. As I said before, I'm soriy. [Again a silence. Nobody knows what to say.) Vernon [recovering speech) . But why did j^ou ? Fanny [her control gives way. She breaks out). Oh, because I've been a fool. It's the explanation of most people's muddles, I expect, if they only knew it. Don't talk tome, anybody. I've got nothing more to say. [To Bennet.) I'm sorry. You wouldn't give me a chance. I'd have met you half way. (To Mrs. B.) I'm sorry. Don't be too hard on me. It won't mean much trouble to you. Good servants don't go begging. You can depend upon me for a character. [To Jane.) You'll do much better for yourselves elsewhere. (To Honoria.) Don't let that pretty face of yours ever get you into trouble. [To Ernest.) Good-bye, Ernest. " We were always pals, weren't we ? Good-bye. [She kisses him. It has all been the work of a moment. She comes down again.) Don't think me rude, but I'd hke to be alone. We can talk calmly about it all to-morrow morning. [To the Misses W.) I'm so awfully sony. I wish I could have seen any other way out. [The tears ar$ 9lr earning from her eyes. To Vernon.) Take them all away, won't you, dear. We'll talk about it all to-morrow. I'll feel gooder. [She kisses him. To Dr. F.) Take them all away. Tell him it wasn't all my fault. {To Newte.) You'll have to stop the 78 FANNY AKD THE SERVANT PIIOBLEM. night. There are no more trams. I'U see you In the morning. Good-night. (Ben NET has collected his troop. Leads them away. Dr. F., kindly and help fid, takes off Vernon and the Two Old Ladies.) Newte [he grips her hand, and speaks in hig %hort, growling way). Good-night, old girl. {He follows the others out.) (Fanny crosses towards the windows. Her chief busi' ness is dabbing her eyes. The door closes with m click. She turns. She is R. C. She puts her hand^ kerchief away. She looks at the portrait of Constance^ first Lady Bantock.) Fanny. I belie v«^ its what yoa've been tellia§ IBS to do, ail the time. CorasffASi. ACT IV Scene. — The same. The blinds are down. Th: ita{^6 dark. Ashes fill the grate. Time. — Early morning. (The door opens softly. Newte steals in. Fie fumbles his way across to the windows, drawi> the blinds. The morning sun streams in. He listens — no on-e- seems to be stirring. He goes otU, returns immediately with a btHler\ tray, containing all things necessary for a breakfast and the lighting of a fire. He places tiie tray on table, throws his coat over a chair, and is on his knees busy lighting the fire, when enler the Misses VVetherell, clad in dressing-gowns and caps, yet still they continue to look sweet. They also creep in, hand in hand, the crouching Newte f.v hidden by a hanging fire screen. They creep for- ward till the coat hanging over the chair catches their eye. They are staring at it as Robinson Crusoe might at the footprint, when Newte rises suddenly and turns. The Misses Wetherell give a sup- pressed scream, and are preparing for flight.) Newte (he stays them). No call to run away, ladies. When a man's travelled — as I have — across Americii, in a sleeping car, with a comic opera troop — there's j^)t much left for him to know — you want your breaiviast I {He wheedles them to the table.) We'll be able to talk cosily — before anybody else comes. (They yield themselves. He has a way with him,) Elder. We haven't slept all night. (Newte answers with a sympathetic gesttirt. He U busy getting ready the breakfast,) '^0 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Younger. , There's something we want to tell deaf Vernon — before he says an>i:hing to Fanny. Elder. It's something very important. Newte. We'll ha\e a cup of tea first — to steady )iir nerves. Younger. It's so important that we should tell liim before he sees Fanny, Newte. We'll see to it. [He tnakes tlw. Ua ) 1 fancy they're botii asleep at present. Elder. Poor boy ! Younger. If she only hadn't {Dr. Freem.\ntle has entered) Dr. F. I thought I heard somebody stirring Newte. Kush ! (He indicates doors R. and L.) Younger (turning and greeting him). It was so kind of you not to leave us last night. Elder. We were so upset. (Dr. F. pats their hands.) Younger. We hope you slept all right. Dr. F. Excellently. Shall be glad of a shave, that's all. (Laughs.) (Both he and Newte suggest the want of one.) Newte (mho has been officiating). Help yourself to milk and sugar. Dr. F. (who has seated himself). Have the Bennets gone ? Newte. Well, they had their notice all right. (Laughs.) Younger (they have begun to cry). It has been 80 wrong and foolish of us. We have never learnt to do an3.i:hing for ourselves. Elder. We don't even know where our things are. Dr. F. They can't all have gone — the ul.ule twenty-three of them, at a cou}>Ie of hours' notice. (To Newte.) Haven't st^en any of them, have you ? FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 8! Newte. No sign of any of them dowri'^.tiurs. Dr F. Oh, they must be still here. Not up. I don't suppose. It isn't seven o'clock yet. Younger. But they have all been discharged. We can't ask them to do anythmg. Elder [to her Sister). And the Grinstones are U)imng to lunch with the new curate. Venioa asked them on Sunday. Younger. Perhaps there's something cold. Elder. Vernon so dislikes a cold lunch. Dr. F. (to Newte). Were you able to get hold of Vernon last night ? Newte (shrugs shoulders). Waited up till he came In about two o'clock. Merely answered that he wasn 't in a talkative mood — ^brushed passed me and locked himself in. Dr. F. He wouldn't say anything to me either. Rather a bad sign when he won't talk. Newtb. What's he likely to do ? Dr. F. Don't know. Of course it will be all over the country. Younger. And dear Vernon is so sensitive. Dr. F. It had to come — the misfortune is Newte. The misfortune is that people won't keep to their own line of business. Why did he want to come fooling around her ? She was doing well for herself. She could have married a man who would have thought more of her than all the damn fools in the county put together. Why couldn't he have left her alone ? Dr. F. (he is sitting head of table, between Newte 071 his right, and the Misses W. on his left. He lays his hand on Newte's sleeve — with a smile). I'm sure you can forgive a man — with eyes and ears in his head — for having fallen in love with her. Newte. Then why doesn't he stand by her ? What if her uncle is a butler ? If he wasn't a fool, he'd be thanking his stars that 'twas anytliing half at respectable SS FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM, Dr. F. I'm not defending him — we're not sure yet that he needs any defence. He has married a clever, charming girl of — as you say — a better family than he'd any right to expect. The misfortune is, that — by a curious bit of iU-luck — it happens to be his own butler. Newte. If she takes my advice, she'll return to the stage. No sense stopping where you're not wanted. Younger. But how can she ? Elper. You see they're married I Dr. F. {to change the subject). You'll take an egg ? (Newte has been boiling some. He has fust served them.) Elder (rejecting i(). Thank you. Younger. We're not feeling hungry. Elder. He was so fond of her. Younger. She was so pretty. Elder. And so thoughtful. Younger. One would never have known she was an actress. Elder. If only she hadn't (Bennet has entered. Newte is at fireplace. The Old Ladies have their backs to the door. Dr. F., who is pouring out tea, is the first to see him. He puts down the teapot, staring. The Old Ladies look round. A silence. Newte turns. Bennet is again the perfect butler. Yesterday would seem to have been wiped out of his memory.) Bennet. Good-morning. Miss Wetherell. Good- morning, Miss Edith. (To the Two Men). Good- morning. I was not aware that breakfast was required to be an}'^ earher than usual, or I should have had it ready. Younger. We are sure you would, Bennet. But you see, under the circumstances, we — ^we hardly Uked to trouble you. FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. M Bennet (hf^ goes nbnut the room, piittin^^ things to vi^Jits. He has rufrg the bell. Some dead [lowers hs packs on to Nftwte's tray, the water he pours into Newte's slop-basin, etc., etc.) My duty, Miss Edith, I have never felt to be a trouble to me. Elder. We know, Bennet. You have always been so conscientious. But, oi course, after what's happened (They are on the verge of tears again.) Bennet {he is at right hand of table piling up the breakfast things). Keziah requested me to apologize to you for not having heard your bell this morning. She will be ready to wait upon you in a very few minutes. (To the Doctor.) You will find shaving materials, doctor, on your dressing-table. Dr. F. Oh. thank you. (Ernest has entered, with some wood, he is going towards the fire.) Bennet [to Ernest). Leave the fire for the pret- ent. Take away this tray. (Ernest takes up the tray, and with it goes out.) {Speaking over the heads of the Misses W. to Newte.) Breakfast will be ready in the morning-room, in a quarter of an hour. Newte {at first puzzled, then indignant, now breaks out. He has come down to c). What's the Uttle game on here — eh ? Yesterday afternoon you were givep the sack — by your mistress, Lady Bantock, with 9 month's wages in lieu of notice — not an hour before you deserved it. What do you mean — going on lik^ this — as if nothing had happened ? {He comes tc the table between Dr. F. and the Misses W.) Is Lady Bantock to be ignored in this house as if she didn't exist — or is she not ? {He brings his fist doivn on thi table. He has been shouting rather than speaking,) I want this tiling settled 1 84 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Ben NET. Your bath. Mr. Newte, is quite ready. Newte (as soon as he can recover sp^^ch). Nevei you mind my bath, I want (Vernon enters r. He is pale, heavy-eyed, short in his manner, listless.) Vernon. Good-morning — everybody. Can I hav^ some breakfast, Bennet ? Bennet. In about ten minutes ; I will bring it up here: {He collects the kettle from the fire as he passes, and goo. out.) Vernon. Thank you. [He responds mechanically to the kisses of his Two Aunts, who have risen and come to him.) Newte. Can I have a word with you ? Vernon. A little later on, if you don't mind, Mr. Newte. [He passes him.) Newte (he is about to speak, changes his mind). All right, go your own way. (Newte goes out.) Dr. F. " Remember," says Marcus Aurelius- Vernon. Yes— good old sort, Marcus Aurelius. (He moves away likewise from the Doctor. Sits listlessly, R. c.) (Dr. F. stands a moment, smiles resignedly, looks at thi Misses W., shrugs his shoulders, and closing the doof after him goes otct.) [TJie Misses W. whisper together — look round cauti- ously, steal up behind him, encouraging one another.) Elder. She's so young. Younger. And so adaptable. Vernon (does not turn round — takes his face in hi* hands). All, it was the deception. FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 85 Younger (she puts her old thin hand on his shoul- der). What would you have done, dear, if she had told you — at first ? Vernon (he looks round, takes her hand in his — answers a little brokenly), I don't know. (The Elder is the other side of him. Her Sister makes a sign to her behind him. She screws her courage up.) Elder. There's something we wanted to tell you. (He looks at her. They look across at each other.) The first Lady Bantock, your great grandmamma Younger. Sl'^e danced with George III. Elder. She was a butcher's daughter. Younger. He was quite a little butcher. Elder. Of course, as a rule, dear, we never men- tion it. Younger. We felt you ought to know. (They take each other's hands, on tip-toe, they steal out. They close the door softly behind them.) (Vernon rises, takes a few steps towards the ivin- dow. Turns — glances round at the portrait — draws nearer to it. With his hands in his pockets, stops dead in front of it, contemplates it in silence. A sound comes from Fanny's room. He listens, moves away r., still with his hands in his pockets. The door opens (l.). Fanny enters. She is dressed for going out. She stands for a moment, the door in her hand. Vernon turns. She closes the door and comes forward.) Vernon (r.)- Good-morning. Fanny (l.). Good-morning — George stayed the night, didn't he? Vernon. Yes. He's downstairs now. Fanny. He won't be going for a little while? Vernon. Can't till the ten o'clock train. Have you had breakfast? W FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Fanny. I — I've had something to eat — yes. {She sits lower end of the settee — with a smile.) I'm sorry for what I did last night — although they did deser\'e it. (Laughs.) I suppose it's a matter that can easily be put right again. Vernon [he is standing r. c.) You have no objec- tion to their staying ? Fanny Wiy should I ? Vernon [he seats himself over against her). WTiat do you mean ? Fanny. Tliere's only one hope of righting a mistake — and that is going back to the point from where one went wrong — and that was our maivage. (A moment.) Vernon. We haven't given it a very long trial Fan'NY [with an odd smile). It went to pieces at the first — I was in trouble all last night ; you must have known it. You left me alone. Vernon. Jane told me you had locked yourself in. Fanny. You never tried the door for yourself, dear. [She rises, pretends to rearrange something on the mantelpiece — any excuse to turn away her face for a moment. She turns to him again, smiling.) It was a mistake, the whole thing. You were partly to blame. You were such a nice boy — I " fancied " you — to use George's words. [She laughs.) And when a woman wants a thing she is apt to be a bit unsciupulous about how she gets it. (She moves about the mom, touching the flowers, rearranging a cushion, a vase.) T didn't invent tlie bishop, that was George's embroidery. (Another laugh.) But, of course. I ought to have told you everything myself. I ought not to have wanted a man to whom it would have made one atom of differ- ence whether my cousins wcjire scu!l«-ry-maids or not Somehow. I felt that to you it might. (Vernon winces.) It's natural enough Yon hr^' '^ i h^y. oosftion tt FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. VI maintain. I didn't know you were a lord — that was your doing. George did find it out, but he never told me ; least of all, that you were Lord Bantock — or you may be pretty sure I should have come out with the truth, if only for my own sake. It hasn't been any joke for me, coming back here. Vernon. Yes. I can see they've been making things pretty hard for you. Fanny, Oh. they thought they were doing their duty. (She comes up behind him, puts her hands on his shoulders.) I want you to take them all back again. I want to feel I have made as Uttle commo- tion in your life as possible. It was just a Uttle mistake — and everybody will say how fortunate it was that she took herself off so soon with that — and you will marry somebody belonging to your own class. And those are the only sensible marriages there are> Vernon. Have you done talking ? Fanny. Yesl Yes, I think that's all. Vernon. Then perhaps you'll let mr. get in a word. You think me a snob ? (Fanny makes a movement,) As a matter of fact, I am. Fanny [she has moved away R,). No. that's not fair. You wouldn't have married a girl off the music-hall stage. Vernon. Niece of a bishop — cousin to a judge. Whether I believed it or not. doesn't matter. The sham that isn't likely to be found out is as good as the truth to a snob. If he had told me your uncle was a butler I should have hesitated— that's where the mistake began. We'll go back to that. Won't you sit down ? (Fanny sits by the desk.) { want you to stop. There'll be no mistake this time. I'm asking my butler's niece to do me the honour tP b« my wife. Fanny. That's kind of yoit »8 FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. Vernon. Oh. I'm not thinking of you. I'm think- ing of myself. I want you. I teU in love with you because you were pretty and charming. There*! something else a man wants in his wife besides that. I've found it. (He jumps up, goes ever to her. Brush- ing aside thivgs in his way. he sits on the desk a little below her.) I 'm not claiming it as a right ; you can go if you like. You can earn your own Uving, I know. But you shan't have anybody else. You'll be Lady Bantock and nobody else — as long as I live. {He has grown quite savage.) Fanny [she bites her lip to keep back the stnile thai wants to come). That cuts both ways, you know. Vernon, / don't want anybody else. Fanny [she stretches out her hand and lays it on his). Won't it be too hard for you ? You'll hav€ to tell them all — your friends — e\'erybody. Vernon. They've got to be told in any case. II you are here, for them to see, they'll be able to under- stand — those that have got any sense. (Ben net enters with breakfast for two on a tray. Hi places it on table.) Fanny {she has risen, she goes over to h%m,) Good- morning, uncle. (She puts up her face. He stares— shf persists. Bennet kisses her.) Lord Bantock — [she looks at Vernon) — has a request to make to you. He wishes me to remain here as his wife. I am willing to do so, provided you give your consent. Vernon. Quite right, Bennet. I ought to have asked for it before. I apologize — vdU you give your consent to my marriage with your niece ? Fanny (she stays him). One minute. You under- stand what it means. From the moment you give it ■ — if you do give it — I shall be Lady Bantock — youi mistre££ FANNY AND THE SERVANT PROBLEM. 89 Bevnet. My dear Fanny ! My dear Vernon I I speak, for the first and last time, as your uncle. I am an old-fashioned person, and my ideus. I have been told, are those of my class. But observation has im])ressed it upon me that success in any scheme depends upon each person being ht for their place. Yesterday, in the interests of you both, I should have refused my consent. To-day, I give it with pleasure, feeling sure I am handing over to Lord Bantock a wife in every way fit for her position. (He kisses her.) (Bennet gives her to Vernon, who grips his hand. He returns to the table.) Breakfast, your ladysliip, is quite ready. [THrv take their places at the tahlf. Fanny Uikf.h » ■ kiv k^i, bSNNEl takes o^ IJie cv^n.) *L\p:frthm roST PUEUSHIfiP. CHRISTOPHER, JUNIOR A Comedy in 4 Acts. By Madeleine Lucette Ryley. Modem ca» Rime. Time, 2 J hours. Tiiree interior scenes; 8 males, 4 females, Christopher Jedbm-y, Jr., having accidentally placed himself in an anfortunate position with a lady in the West Indies, is forced tc oaarry her without seeing her. He returns to England. His fathei Bnds out about the marriage, quarrels with him, and turns him out ledbury, Jr., goes to India as a clerk in his father's office, theiti tiisco^ ers defalcations by the manager, and falls in love with £)or9 Hedway. He is reconciled to his father, and Dora turns out to l>e ' as wife. Highly recommended for amateurs. Price, 60 Cents. MICE AND MEN A Romantic Comedy. Four Acts. By Madeleine Lucette Rylej Costume about 1786. Time, 2 hours, 30 minutes. Three interioi^ one exterior scene; 7 males, 5 females. Mark Embury, a man of ove* forty, is of opinion that the perfect wife must be educated from a tftate of ignorance and simplicity to the ideal of the man she is about to marry. He accordingly proceeds to impart his views to a giri fresh from the Foundling. His young nephew comes on the scene, and Embury realizes that nature intended the young to mate with the young. This beautiful costume comedy can be played by all females, and is highly recommended for use by girls' schools and colleges. This play was originally produced by Mr. Charles Froh* (man with Miss Annie RusseU in the leading role. Price, 60 Cents. SNUG LITTLE KINGDOM A Comedy in 3 Acts. By Mark Ambient. Modem costume Time, 2 J hours. One interior scene throughout; 3 males, 4 females. Bernard Gray, a composer of music, Uves in a garret in Soho. Undei his charge is a young girl in the ballet, whose mother had died when she was young. Hubert Gray, the brother of Bernard, rescues a wealthy old gentleman from an accident, the lattei* c^ventuallx turof Mg out to be the girl's father. Price. 60 Cenjbk THE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. The famous comedy in three acts, by Anne Warner. 7 males, 6 females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2% hours. This is a genuinely funny comedy with splendid parts for "Aunt Mary," "Jack," her lively nephew; "Lucinda," a New England, ancient maid of all work; "Jack's" three chums; the Girl "Jack" loves; "Joshua," Aunt Mary's hired man, etc. "Aunt Mary" was played by May Robson in New York and on tour for over two years, and it is sure to be a big success wherever produced. We strongly recommend it. Price, 60 Cents MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. A pleasing comedy, in three acts, by Harry James Smith, author of "The Tailor-Made Man." 6 males, 6 females. One interior scene. Cos- tumes modern. Plays 2% hours. Mr. Smith chose foi* his initial comedy the complications arising from the endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude peopled by hyphenated names— a theme permitting innumerable complications, according to the spirit of the writer. This most successful comedy was toured for several seasons by Mrs. Fiske with enormous success. Price, 60 Cents. MRS. TEMPLETS TELEGRAM. A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and William Morris. 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene stands throughout the three acts. Costumes modern. Plays 2^ hours. "Mrs. Temple's Telegram" is a sprightly farce in which there is an abund- ance of fun without any taint of impropriety or any element of offence. As noticed by Sir Walter Scott, "Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive!" There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time the curtain rises until it makes the final drop the fun is fast and furious. A very exceptional farce. Price, 60 Cents. THE NEW CO-ED. A comedy in four acts, by Marie Doran, author of "Tempest and Sunshine," etc. Characters^ 4 males, 7 females, though any number of boys and girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One interior and one exterior scene, but can be easily played in one interior scene. Costumes modern. Time, about 2 hours. The theme of this play is the coming of a new student to the college, her reception by the scholars, her trials and final triumph. There are three especially good girls' parts, Letty, Madge and Estelle, but the others have plenty to do. "Punch" Doolittle and George Washington Watts, a gentleman of color, are two particularly good comedy characters. We can Strongly recommend "The New Co-Ed" to high schools and amateurs. Price, 30 Cents. (The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) SAMUEL FRENCH. 28-30 West 38th Street, New York Qty New and Explicit Descriptive Catalo^rue Mailed Free on Request >V*"-''^--: FRENCH'S y Standard Library Edition Clyde Fitch WUliam Gillette Augustus Thomas George Broadhurst Edward E. Kidder Percy MacKaye Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Louis N. Parker R. C. Carton Alfred Sutro Richard Harding Davis Sir Arthur W. Pinero Anthony Hope Oscar Wilde H addon Chambers Jerome K. Jerome Cosmo Gordon Lennox H. V. Esmond Mark Swan Grace L. Furniss Marguerite Merrington Hermann Sudermann Rida Johnson Young Arthur Law Rachel Crothers Martha Morton H. A. Du Souchet W. W. Jacobs Madeleine Lueette Ryley Includes Plays by- Booth Tarkington J. Hartley Manners James Forbes James Montgomery Wm. C. de Mille Roi Cooper Megrue Edward E. Rose Israel Zangwill Henry Bernstein Harold Brighouse Channing Pollock Harry Durant Winchell Smith Margaret Mayo Edward Peple A. E. W. Mason Charles Klein Henry Arthur Jonefl A. E. Thomas Fred. Ballard Cyril Harcourt Carlisle Moore Ernest Denny Laurence Housnum Harry James Smith Edgar Selwyn Augustin McHugh Robert Housum Charles Kenyon C. M. S. McLellan French's International Copyrighted Edition con- tains plays, comedies and farces of international reputation; also recent professional successes by famous American and English Authors. Send a four-cent stamp for our new catalogue describing thousands of plays. 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