SWIETr LAV&ND) I S~Yeer LAJ7&ND&RJ wt 1DOM S TIC DRAMA. In Three eActs By ARTHUR W[ PINERO LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN MIDCCCXCIII t t i J 4,0L 95 I 95 0""~ ~ o c~ * ha -~( ha I ~_4~~ 7 -#b.:`:5Ud; 0 Lup 1<sIs bi't '4 a $t C i( 4~ *0 C, V j347~ 4,i ~ MO~" i~' a t# ~C~, t '4t ~R 2, Mrat Ca~ C u '94f A Vi tO - p '- (0J ~ $ Atj -.44 U0 r-4s 4', (*; 1 lb:~4 0~ ~~ INTRODUCTORY NOTE (' SWEET LAVENDER " must be regarded as one of the most successful stage-plays of modern times, and there can be no question that it has proved so far the most popular of Mr. Pinero's works. Its representations may be counted by the thousand, and its popularity has extended over many latitudes. The reason of this is not far to seek; it proclaims itself in the gentle humanity and genial humour of the play, and the lovable creation of the golden-hearted, weak-natured, down-at-heel Dick Phenyl. The very simplicity and unpretentiousness of this domestic comedy have apparently disarmed any antagonistic criticism which might have been expected from those critics of cynical temper and pessimistic mood who are wont to look for the stern realities of life even in the most purposely genial of theatrical entertainments. And if these, in view of the preponderance of kindly human nature in the play, elect to regard " Sweet Lavender " as a sort of modern fairy-tale rather than an actual and realistic study of life, certainly no one would be more ready to agree with them *The desire of fame betrays an ambitious man into indecencies that lessen his repfutation; ke is still afraid lest any of his actions should be thrown away in frivate." ADDISON. INTRODUCTORY NOTE v ii TERRY'S THEATRE, ro5 & ro6 STRAND. SOLE LESSEE ANDI MANAGER, MEI. EiDWARD 'FEA[Y. WEDNESDAY, MARC II 21, 1888, FOR THE FIRST TIIME, An Original Domestic Drama, in Three Acts, entitled S\VEET LAVENDER, A. W. PINERO. MR. GEOFFREY IENIIDDERBIUIRN (of Wedderburn, Green & HIoskett, Bankers, Barnchester). CLEMENT HALE (his adopted Son, studying for the Bar) Dr. DIELANEY (a fashionable Phliysician)... DICK PHENYL (a Barrister) HORACE BREAM (a young American) MR. MAW (a Solicitor) MR. BULGER (Hairdresser and Wigmaker)... MRS. GILFILLIAN (a Widow-Mr. Wedderburn's Sister) MINNIE (her Daughter). RUTH ROiT (I lousekeeper an(l Laundress at 3 Brain Court, Temple).. LAVENDER (her D)aughter) Mr. BRANDON Thoos. Mr. BERNARD GOuLI). MIr. Mr. Mr. Mr. F. KERR. SA.NT MATT]HEwS Mr. T. C. VALENTINE. Miss M. A. VIcruR. Miss MAFciE MILTETT. liss CARLOTTA ADIDSoN. MAiss NORREYS. The Big Drum THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY PHILIP MACKWORTH. SIR RANDLE FILSON, KNT. BERTRAM FILSON, his son. SIR TIMOTHY BARRADELL, BART. ROBERT ROOPE. COLLINGHAM GREEN. LEONARD WESTRIP, Sir Randle's secretary. ALFRED DUNNING, of Sillitoe and Dunning's Private Detective Agency. NOYES, Mr. Roope's servant. UNDERWOOD, servant at Sir Randle's. JOHN, Mr. Mackworth's servant. A WAITER. OTTOLINE DE CHAUMIE, COMTESSE FILSON. LADY FILSON. HON. MRS. GODFREY ANSLOW. MRS. WALTER QUEBEC. MISS TRACER, Lady Filson's secretary. DE CHAUMIt, ne LP T,r- c,' J T/ PERIOD.-I913. COPYRIGHT, 1915, by ARTHUR WING PINERO As author and proprietor All rights reserved E~_..':.. INTRODUCTORY NOTE ix Mr. Pinero's play, and these tours lasted until November 5th, 1891, 697 performances having been given in the meanwhile. Since then other travelling companies have performed the play many hundred times all over the United Kingdom, and it finds a continuously al)prcciative public. In America Mr. Pinero's famous comedy has become a stock piece, and its representations have been countless since Mr. Daniel Frohman first produced it at the Lyceum Theatre, New York. Australia has also taken very kindly to the play, which was first introduced to Antipodean audiences by Mr. Frank Thornton, and, during Mr. Edward Tcrry's recent visit to the colony, " Sweet Lavender" was naturally expected from him as its original producer, and it was received with enthusiasm at his hands. In South Africa it has also enjoyed frequent representation; in the West Indies it has been much in favour; and Mr. Thornton will shortly take the play to India. But " Sweet Lavender," like " The Profligate " and " The Magistrate," has appealed beyond the English-speaking body of playgoers to those of the Teutonic and Italian tongues. It has been very frequently performed in Germany in an adaptation which eliminates the sentimental interest to a large extent and lays greater stress on the comic; while the Italian stage knows it also by a version PLEASE READ CAREFULLY The acting rights of this play are reserved by the author. Performance is strictly forbidden unless his express consent, or that of his agent, has first been obtained, and attention is called to the penalties provided by law for any infringements of his rights, as follows: "SEB. 4966:-Any person publicly performing or representing 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 therefor, such damages in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars 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 conviction be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one year."-U. S. RavISED STATUTES, Title bo, Chap. 3. TH8 TPRSONS OF TH TPLAY MR. GEOFFREY WEDDERBURN (of Wedderburn, Green & Hoskett, Bankers, Barnchester) CLEMENT HALE (his adopte(d Son-studying for the Bar) MRS. GILFILLIAN (a Widow-Mr. Wedderburn's Sister) MAINNIE (her Daughter) RUTH HOLT (Housekeeper and "Laundress" at 3 Brain Court Temple) LAVENDER (her Daughter) DICK PIIENYL (a Barrister) HORACE BREAM (a young American) DR. DELANEY (a fashionable Physician) MR. MAW (a Solicitor) IMR. BULGER (Hairdresser and Wigmake'r) viii PREFACE But comedy of this order has a knack of cutting rather deeply, of ceasing, in some minds, to be comedy at all; and it may be said that this is what has happened in the present instance. Luckily it is equally true that certain matters are less painful, because less actual, in print than upon the stage. The *"wicked publisher," therefore, even when bombs are dropping round him, can afford to be more independent than the theatrical manager; and for this reason I have not hesitated to ask my friend Mr. Heinemann to publish THE BIG DRUM in its original form. ARTHUR PINERO. LONDON, September, 19'5. SWEET LAVENDER THE FIRST ACT The scene is theo swhabbily 2furnished sitting-room of some barristers' chambers at 3 Brain Court, Temple. On the spectator's left and right are the doors leacding respectively to the bedrooms of RICHARD PHENYL and CLEMENT HALE. At the further end of the room, on the left, is a curtained opening leading into a passage, where a butlers tray sta.nds, and facing the outer door of the chambers. The corresponding part of the room, wchere the windows look on to the Court, forms a( kind of recess curtained oti from the rest. It is a bright spring morniwg. RUTH ROLT, a slim, delicate-looking woman of about 35, with a sweet face and a sad soft voice, humbly hbt very neatly dresse(l, is laying the brealiast things upon the table. PULGER, a m7eek bald-headed man, carrying ra little old leather bag, a brass pot of hot wrater, tl)ld some clean tokels, enters quietly. BULCER. I've give Mr. 'Ale a nice shave, Mrs. Rolt-clane THE BIG DR UM other high-backed settee fills the space between the windows, and in each window there is an armchair of the same period as the one at the fireplace. The street is full of sunlight. [Note: Throughout, " right " and " left " are the spectator's right and left, not the actor's.] [ROBERT ROOPE, seated at the writing-table, is sealing a letter. NOYES enters at the door on the left, followed by PHILIP MACKWORTH. NOYES. [Announcing PHILIP.] Mr. Mackworth. ROOPE. [A simple-looking gentleman offifty, scrufpulously attired -jumfing up and shaking hands warmly with PHILIP as the servant withdraws.] My dear Phil! PHILIP. [A negligently-almost shabbily--dressed man in his late thirties, with a handsome but worn face.] My dear Robbie! ROOPE. A triumph, to have dragged you out! [Looking at his watch.] Luncheon isn't till a quarter-to-two. asked you for half-past-one because I want to have a quiet little jaw with you beforehand. PHILIP. Delightful. ROOPE. Er-I'd better tell you at once, old chap, whom you'll meet here to-day. SWEET LA VENDER RUTH. I shouldn't wonder if Mr. Hale fids soymething to like, sometliiig to respect in MrI. Pleiyl, withli all his faults. P'raps so. But to rellect that Mr. 'Ale used to be such a swell, as the sayin' goes, over in Pear Tree Court; and then, three weeks back, to come 'ere and take up with the untidiest chin in the Inner Temple-it's bewilderin'. RUTH. [Imupatiently.] Oh! [Walks up to the window, where she stands waitiflg for BIULCIER to g o.] BULGER. [With a 8igh.] Good mornin', Mrs. Rolt. Rumh. [Without turning.] Good morning. [BULOER, on his way to the dloor, pauses, dleposits his brass pot (tld towels on the table, then opens his bag mournfully. IRUTHI. [Turning with surprise.] Mr. I3ulger! ihrLLGER. I'm still 'oping, Mrs. Riolt. I-tUT IF. It's good to be h)o0ing for soineting ii this oworld, Mr. Bulger. 4 THE BIG DRUM ROOPE. [Ruefully.] You don't grow a bit more reasonable, Phil; not a bit. PHILIP. I beg pardon. Go ahead. ROOPE. [Si/ting on the fauteuil-stool.] Mrs. Godfrey Anslow and Mrs. Wally Quebec. Abuse them. PHILIP. Bless their innocent hearts! ihey'll be glad to meet Mr. Green. ROOPE. I trust so. PHILIP. [Scowling.] A couple of pushing, advertising women. ROOPE. Really-! PHILIP. Ha, ha! Sorry. That's five, with you and me. ROOPE. That's five, as you justly observe. [Clearing his throat.] H'm! H'm! PHILIP. The sixth? I prepare myself for your great effect. ROOPE. [With an effort.] Er-Madame de Chaumie is in London, Phil. SWEET LA VENDER BULGER. [Surveying the paeper doubtJflll.] It ain't muC good, but intellectually it's my all, ma'aiu. You won't? No1 Mr. 1.er, plese. [IPuttinq am(Cy the) paper oni takigiqI vp h/is thi/U[s.1 Adjourned sine (lie, ma'ami. [7 TrniUi solemntlg.] I take leave for to mention tha-t Mi. Justice Tyler's noo wig which I sent 'onie yesterday nips him at the nape o' the neck. Also that I cut Mr. Pr'itchett, the emment Q.C.('s chin, in his own chambers yesterday; a mole as I've skipped over these ten years like a gladsome child. I don't want to make a mountain out of a mole, Mrs. Rolt, but the-se facts denote the failin' 'and, ma'am. Good iornin'. [As BULGER is (1OiIyJ there is a kacok (it the outsi(le door,L' which he opeais, a(Cld (diits J)r. DELANEY, ( genial old Irish gent8leInumCi w-ith silvery-grey hair tidl whiskers. DR. DELANEY. Thank ye-I'm much obliged to ye. i'm calling on Mr. Hale. [BULGER g08 oMt.] Is it Mrs. O1 lt? IP UTIIf. Yes, sir. I'1 J)octor Delaney. il've jst Il the ple asTe ol seeing your daughrlter downstairs in the kitcheii-in the basement. THE BIG DR UM PHILIP. You-you good-natured old meddler. [Quickly.] Does she expect to find me here? ROOPE. No. PHILIP. [Maikingfor the door on the left.] I'll bolt, then. ROOPE. [Rising and seizing him.] You shall do nothing of the kind. [Forcing him down upon the fauteuil-stool.] You'll upset my luncheon-table! [Tidying himself.] You're most inconsiderate; you are positively. And you've disarranged my necktie. PHILIP. [In a low voice.] How is she looking, Robbie? RooPE. Brilliant. [Pttting his necktie in order.] Is that straight? Brilliant. PHILIP. [Gazing into space.] TFen years ago, old man I ROOPE. Quite. PHILIP. It was at her father and mother's, in Paris, that I made your acquaintance. Recollect? ROOPE. Perfectly; in the Avenue Montaigne. I had a flat in the Palais-Royal at the time. SWEET LA VENDER CLEMENT. [In his roofm.] Yes? RUTH. Dr. Delaney, please. CLEMENT. [Calling.] Oh, thank you. I'm coming. [1Ruth continues laying the table. Dn. I)ELANEY. [To himusel/.] It would be a great (lisapl)ointment to Wedderburn the banker if the lad he's adopted did anything absurd. But, thank goodness, it's no business of mine. RUTH. Don't you think my girl is looking very pale, Doctor? DR. DELANEY. Ah, don't worry yourself now. It's the air of the Temple. She's a white chrysanthemum instead of a pink one. Your daughter's strong enough. RUTH. Bless you for telling me that! My sweet Lavender! DR. DELANEY. You're a little pale yourself now. RUTHl. 1-oh, I've had trouble. THE BIG DRUM ROOPE. [After a slight pause.] Well, in spite of all this, I'm convinced she was genuinely attached to you, Phil-as fond of you as you were of her. PHILIP. [Resting his head on his hands.] Oh, shut up! ROOPE. Anyhow, here's an opportunity of testing it, dear excellent friend. She's been a widow twelve months; you need have no delicacy on that score. PHILIP. [Looking ip.] Why, do you suggest--? ROOPE. Certainly; and without delay. I hear there's a shoal of men after her, including Tim Barradell. PHILIP. [ Wth a grim smile.] " Bacon " Barradell? ROOPE. [Assentingly.] They say Sir Timothy's in constant attendance. PHILIP. And what chance, do you imagine, would a poor literary cove stand against a real live baronet-and the largest bacon-curer in Ireland? ROOPE. [Rubbing his chin.] You never know. Women are romantic creatures. She might prefer the author of those absorbing works of fiction whose pages often wrap up Tim Barradell's rashers. SWEET LA VENDER DR. DELANEY. Oh, has lie? And she's very fond of her bookshave ye noticed? IRUTII. Yes, very. On. I)ELANEY. Then the only thing I've got to recommend is this -that ye'll put a stop to the lessons for six months or so. [1 UTII. Very well,.IDoctor. Poor Lavvy! Mt. DELJANEY. [To himself] I've hit it. Oh, thank goodness, this is no business of mine CLEMENT HALE enters. He is a handsome boyish young man of ab(ot three and tiweety#, immacalatell attired in a J(sl ioWablCe dressing-salt.] CLE1MENT. Dr. Delaney! DR. DE LANEY. Mee dear boy! CLE3MENT. They call you a fashionable physician, and you're found in the Cit-y at tien in the nmoviing. Dit. 1,4ELJJNEY.1j MIee deatr boy, I'll let you into a secreL - we cn't get human ailmnents to keep fashionable hours. 10 THE BIG DRUM ROOPE. Tosh! It's an advertising age. PHILIP. [Stalking to thefireplace.] It's a beastly vulgar age. ROOPE. It's the age I happen to live in, and I accommodate myself to it. [Pacing the room as he warms to his theme.] And if it's necessary for a private individual such as myself to advertise, as I maintain it is, how much more necessary is it for you to do so-a novelist, a poet, a would-be playwright, a man with something to sell! Dash it, they've got to advertise soap, and soap's essential! Why not literature, which isn'tf And yet you won't find the name of Mr. Philip Mackworth in the papers from one year's end to another, except in a scrubby criticism now and again. PHILIP. [Calmly.] Excuse me, there are the publishers' announcements. ROOPE. Publishers' announcements! I'm not speaking of the regular advertising columns. What I want to see are paragraphs concerning you mixed up with the news of the day, information about you and your habits, interviews with you, letters from you on every conceivable topic PHILIP. [Grinning.] Do you! ROOPE. [7oining PHILIP.] Oh, my dear Phil, I entreat you, feed the papers! It isn't as if you hadn't talent; you SWEET LAI' ENDER I gracious! Here's poor Wedderburn travelling abroad in happy ignorance, and it's nolbody's business to look after the boy he loves like a son. Well, it's not my business at any rate. [ There is the sudden s50ou2nd of the fall of some heavy olject in the adjacent room.] What's that now? CLEMENT. That? Oh, that's Dick. Dit. DELANEY. Dick, is it? CLEMENT. Mr. Richard Phenyl, b1)arrister-at-l1aw. chambers. IDick's dressing. I slh1are his DR. DELANEY. Dropped his waistcoat. CLEMiENT. Poor Dick! shocked at my Dick Phenyl. Dear me! If you saw 16im1 I dare Saly youi'd b_)e making a compalnion of a man like Da. DELANEY. CLEMENT. But I know wlhat good there is in old Dick, and how the goodl burns clearer:and brighrter in his slovenly person than iln man:y who've had hick and love and luxury in their lives--which Dick hasn't. I. shall pull him round yet. Like to know him? 12 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. [Standing near ROOPE.] I have no dislike for publicity -for fame. By George, sir, I covet it, if I can win it honestly and decently! ROOPE. [Shrugging his shoulders.] Ah --! PHILIP. And I humble myself before the men and women of my craft-and they are many-who succeed in winning it in that fashion, or who are content to remain obscure. But for the rest-the hustlers of the pen, the seekers after mere blatant applause, the pickers-up of cheap popularity-I've a profound contempt for them and their methods. ROOPE. You can't deny the ability of some of 'em. PHILIP. Deny it! Of course I don't deny it. But no amount of ability, of genius if you will, absolves the follower of any art from the obligation of conducting himself as a modest gentleman - ROOPE. Ah, there's where you're so hopelessly Victorian and out o' date! PHILIP. Well, that's my creed; and, whether I've talent or not, I'd rather snuff out, when my time comes, neglected and a pauper than go back on it. [ Walking away and pacing the room.] Oh, but I'm not discouraged, my dear Robbie -not a scrap! I'm not discouraged, though you do regard me as a dismal failure. SITEET LA 7I'NDEA' I, I)ic%. Cleineii', my boy, you're so nrineasonable. I 11:1(1 an ilmporral'nt ppjoiiitmeiit at the " Steadk al TuIi )Ot," in Flee' Street-a very old-established ini, C(iiei'--- Doc'or Johnson fand all that so1' o'() thilng. I'm mIone the worse for it, Clemen'. CLEiMENT. Are you any the better? DICK. I'm Iabout the same, Clemen'. CLEMENT. Let me inltro(hlce my friend, Doctor Del:aney. DICK. Wha' nonsense-Doc'or Johnson. CLEMENT. Doctor Delaney. DICK. [To DELANEY.] I beg your pr'on-I- dlidn't perceive you when I firs' came in. [Ife, cWlkCs rather -a Mnsteadlil/ to DELANEY, shakes hands with him, then sits on the soa4. Dit. DELANEY. Delighted to make your i< quavitavce, Mr. Plonvl. sI c 1\-. Than'g you. Were you hmre w ihen you Jchardl that noise in iiex' room? 14 THE BIG DRUM ROOPE. [ houghtfully.] C-c-capital! PHILIP. Titterton, my new publisher, is tremendously taken with the scheme of the thing-keen as mustard about it. ROOPE. Er-pardon me, Phil - PHILIP. Eh? ROOPE. [Fingering the lapel of PHILIP'S coal.] I say, old man, you wouldn't be guilty of the deplorably bad taste of putting me into it, would you? PHILIP. [Slapping him on the back.] Ha, ha! My dear Robbie, half the polite world is in it. Don't tell me you wish to be left out in the cold! RooPE. [Thoroughly alarmed.] Dear excellent friend -! [NOYES enters again at the door on the left, preceding COLLINGHAM GREEN. NOYES. [Announcing GREEN, and then retiring.] Mr. Collingham Green. GREEN. [A gaily-dressed, genial soul, with a flower in his buttonhole, a monocle, a waxed moustache, and a skilful arrangement of a sparse head of hair-shaking hands with ROOPE.] How are you, my deah fellow? SWEET LA VENDER CLEMENT. [O9fering a carqfe of iwater.] W\Vater? [Quickly.] Ver' little! [ DELANEY pour'S Sume w(ftler into 1the tlumbler, then gives it to 1)icK. DR. DELANEY. Swallow that, now. DICK. Not spirits, I hope-at this hour o' the mor'ing? DR. DELANEY. No, no. DICK. [Annoyed.] Why not? Dn. DELANEY. That's a blessed antidote to thie voilest poison the devil ever put his red seal on-I allude to Scotch whiskey, not Irish. DICK. Wha' nonsense- blessed anecdote. DR. DELANEY. Come, come, drink my health, sor. Dici. [Thickly.] " The Qieei i " [ICDK drjinks 11he coldents of?/e /Iilmbler, ftein coughs mid splutters. 16 THE BIG DBRUM ROOPE. Half-past-seven I GREEN. Though I wasn't in bed till two this morning. Ateight I had a cup of coffee and a piece of dry toast, and skimmed the papers. From eight-thirty till ten I dictated a special article on our modern English hostesses-" The Hostesses of England: Is Hospitality Declining?" a question I answer in the negative - ROOPE. [In a murmur.] Quite right. GREEN. At ten o'clock, a man from Clapp and Beazley's with some patterns of socks and underwear. Disposed of him, dressed, and by a quarter-to-eleven I was in the Park. Strolled up and down with Lady Ventnor and Sir Hill Birch and saw everybody there was to be seen. I nevah make a single note; my memory's marvellous. Left the Park at twelve and took a taxi to inquire after Lord Harrogate, Charlie Sievewright, and old Lady Dorcas Newnham. I'm not boring you? ROOPE. Boring us! GREEN. Lady Dorcas caught sight of me from her window and hailed me in. I sat with her for twenty minutes"Greenie" she always calls me-[mimicking] ", Now, Greenie, what's the noos?" Haw, haw, haw! I walked away from Lady Dorcas's, and was in upper Grosvenor Street punctually at one. 7b ROOPE.] There's been a meeting at the Baroness an der Meer's to-day, you know, over this fete at the Albert Hall. SWEET LA VENDER 17 Dit. DELANEY. Al, why not? Some of us so-called(l f.ashionable 1physicians have made so minuch money out of those who haven't anything the matter with 'emn that its hard if we can't do a little for the benefit of those who have. CLEMENT. But why " The IHome of Forgetfulness? " I)I. DELANEY. Because its only by a bed of sickness that many a woman can forget the trouble an(l pain and disappointment this wurrld has brought lier. [Taking CLEMENT'S haud.] God bless ye, nmee boy. CLEMENT. God bless you, Doctor Delaney? I wislh more of us were like you. Dnu. I)ELANEY. Go along, now. Good-bye. [Looking at CLEMENT, them at DICK.] Ali, its no business of mine. [MLe bwstles out, brutshing past RUTnr, who thas been listeninq. RUTH. [Ud ler her breath to DELANEY as be passes her.] Doctor! [Lfe passes tlhroh t1 (e passaye. iSefollowing CLEM ENT. Caln ter DELANEY. Good byin. [(Jalling~ after~ DELANEY.] Gloodl byre! 18 THE BIG DRUM NOYES. Mrs. Walter Quebec. [MRS. WALTER QUEBEC enters and NOYES withdraws. ROOPE. [Taking MRS. QUEBEC'S hand.] My dear Mrs. Wally, how are you? MRS. QUEBEC. [A bright, energetic, fairly young lady.] How'r you, Robbie? Walter is so grieved; he's lunching at the Auto with Tony Baxter. He did try to wriggle out of it - [Discovering GREEN and going to him with her hand extended.] Oh, I am glad! You're just the man I'm dying to see. GREEN. [Kissing her hand.] Haw -- MRS. QUEBEC. Lady Skewes and I are getting up a concert in aid of the poor sufferers from the earthquake in-what's the name of the place?-I forget-Lady Skewes knows itand we want you to say a lot about us in your darling paper. Only distinguished amateurs; that's where the novelty comes in. Lady Skewes is going to play the violin, if she can pull herself together-she hasn't played for centuries-[seeing PHILIP, advancing, and shaking hands with him casually] how d'ye do?-[to GREEN] and I've promised to sing. GREEN. Splendid. ROOPE. But how captivating! SWEET LAVENDER 19 CLEMENT. Certainly. [CLEMENT tosses a coin a)nd catches it on the back ol his hand, coverinUg it.] Call! [DICK throws his coin in the air-it falls many yards away fjiom him, but covers the back of his hand as if' he had caught the coin. CLEMENT laughs8. DICK. [Uncovering his hand, disappointed.] Oh, never mind-woman I CLEMENT. Yours. [DICK sits8 in the armchair. CLEMENT helps DICK to 8weetbread, then pours oat tea. CLEMENT. No appetite, I suppose? DICK [.As i with a disagreeable taste in his mouth.] H'm i I fancy my liver isn't as it should be. CLEMENT. Ah! Dick, Dick, you've broken your word to me again. DICK. [Cheerfully.] The last time, Clement, my boy-tlh last time. 20 THE BIG DE UM MRS. ANSLOW. [Going to GREEN and giving him her hand.] Oh, and here's that horrid Mr. Green! GREEN. My deah Mrs. Anslow! MRS. QUEBEC. Horrid! What's he done? [Sitting in the chair by the small table.] I consider him a white-robed angel. MRS. ANSIOW. I sent him a long account of my accident at Roehampton and he hasn't condescended to take the slightest notice of it. MRS. QUEBEC. Oh, Mr. Green! MRS. ANSLOW. [7b GREEN.] It's cruel of you. GREEN. [To MRS. ANSLOW, twiddling his moustache.] Alack and alas, deah lady, motor collisions are not quite in my line! MRS. ANSLOW. You might have passed it on to the accident man. Or you could have said that I'm to be seen riding in the Row evidently none the worse for my recent shock. 7hat's in your line. GREEN. Haw! I might have done that, certainly. [7rapping his brow.] Fact is-height of the Season-perfectly distracted - SWEET LA JTN!))R 21 CILEMENT. Dick, Delaney says that little Lavender Rolt ought to discontinue her studies. Oh! CLEMENT. [Leaving the table.] Confound it! When she is making such progress. [LCLEMENT sits with his elbows on the wrtinqtcable and his head restiny on his haid. DICK, Hallo, Clement, my boy! [Going oVre to CLEMENT sympatheticalilg.] This won't do. CLEM ENT. What won't (do? I) ICK. Clemn, no man is quite so sober as the individual who is occasionally otiherwise. All his acuteness is concentrated u1pon his brief lucid intervals, and in those intervals lis acuteness is-devilish. [Laying his hand on CLEMIIENT' 8s0holder.] Clement! CLEMENT. Dick! lDici~. When you took compassionl upon a worthless, broken-down vreprobate-1 nllude to tihe gentleman now honoured with the attention of the H ouse-you did a fine thling; but don't spoil it, Clement, my boy! 22 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. [Glaring at ROOPE.] Tsssh! ROOPE. [To MRS. ANSLOW.] Get his books from your library instantly. I envy you the treat in store for you-- [NOYES again appears. NOYES. Madame de Chaumid. [OTTOLINE DE CHAUMIE enters-a beautful, pale, elegant young woman of three-and-thirty, with a slightly foreign air and perfect refinement of manner. NOYES retires. Everybody is manifestly pleased to see OTTOLINE, except PHILIP who ficks up a little figure from the writing-table and examines it critically. ROOPE. [Hurrying to her and taking her hand.] Ah --! OTTOLINE. Robbie dear! MRS. QUEBEC. [Going to OTTOLINE.] Oh! [They embrace.] This is lovely! OTTOLINE. lb MRS. ANSLOW, who comes to her.] Millicent-! [~o GREEN, who bustles forward and kisses her hand.] How do you do? MRS. QUEBEC. [To OTTOLINE.] You didn't stay long at the Railtons' last night, Ottoline. YC SWEET LA FENDER 23 DICK. Thank you, Clem. Lavvy imust he sent into the country for the benefit of her health, and thenthere'll be an end of it. CLEMENT. Dick! Why shouldl there be an end of it? DICK. Don't talk to me, sir, like that I Haven't you been adopted by a AMr. What's-his-name, a banker, sir? CLEMENT. Well? DICK. If a banker would adopt me, you'd see something like behaviour, sir. Why, if you offend your father, as you call him, you'll be a pauper; you'll be like Richard Phenyl, Esq., of the Inner Tl'emple! CLEMENT. Why should I offend Mr. Wedderburn by loving a girl who is simple and honest and generous and courtly; whose only vice is that she is not dressed by a Bond Street milliner? DICK. Don't come to me when you're starving, that's all. CLEMENT. Nonsense, Dick.6 At the worst I shall have my profession. 24 4THE BIG DRUMf PHILIP. [Gently, but without exceeding the bounds of mere courtesy.] Robbie excels in surprises; he has been almost equally reserved with me. Are you very well? OTTOLINE. Very. And you? PHILIP. Very. And Sir Randle and Lady Filson? OTTOLINE. Quite well-and my brother Bertram. [Chilled.] Perhaps you've heard that I am making my home with them now in London, permanently-that I've left Paris? PHILIP. Robbie-and the newspapers-have told me. It's late in the day to do it-may I offer you my sympathy? OTTOLINE. [ With a stately inclination of the head.] Thank you. And I my congratulations on your success? PHILIP. [Quietly.] Success. OTTOLINE. [Comprehending.] Ah? Le public est si bte. I've read every line you've written, I believe. [He bows.] I-I have felt proud to think that we were once-that we were once-not des inconnus. [He bows again, and there is silence between them. The dininp-room door opens and NoYES frsents himself A waiter is seen in the diningroom, standing at the side table. SWIEET LA T'ENDER the pair of bays from Tattersall's, at the young gentleman's o1rder. The giili was 1pretty and good, and hlie loved her, Clemnien t, buTt the tilll a4l1rive(l when the sliIppers wore dlowNii alt t he el nd hlIad to be replaced by a size largmer. Andl, by and bye- it's a sad story-hlie noticed that her little sharp elbows didn't get whiter, poor thing! and that she mixedl up the first and thirdl person in accepting Lady Montmorency's kind invitation to dine. And one day a carriage and pair were for sale, Clement-as good as new-the property of a gentleman leaving England, who was no longer answerable for the dlel)ts contracted by Cinderella, his wife. CLEMI ENT. The hero of your story was a cad, IDick -Dici%. D1Iclx. The hero of any story generally is. There- take my sermon or leave it. But it's beeanuse I love you, and because this poolr woman, Ruth I-(olt, lhas been for fifteen years a good friend to a shaggy worthless cur, that I won't let you aid her child make each other wretched without raising my bark against it. Amen, Clemeneit, my oy-- A mien [I e drops into the armchair ftcing the fire and bligts 1is pipe. i'here is a 1owi knock from the other sidel of the c'rtaine(i opeann. ( F43 E1-NT. There's that man of mine, JTenks-lie gets later and Inter every morning. 26 THE BIG DRUM MRS. QUEBEC. Thanks; Millicent's taking me along with her to the Horse Show. MRS. ANSLOW. [Shaking hands with PHILIP.] Very pleased to meet you again. Ever see anything now of the Fairfields? PHILIP. Never. MRS. ANSLOW. No loss. I believe dear old Eustace is off his head. PHILIP. Possibly. MRS. ANSLOW. [Tolerantly.] But then, so many people are off their heads, aren t they? PHILIP. A great many. MRS. ANSLOW. [Bestowing a farting nod upon PHILIP and crossing to the open door.] Sha'n't wait, Esm6. It's a month s journey to Hammersmith in the ark. MRS. QUEBEC. [Kissing OTTOLINE.] Good-bye. MRS. ANSLOW. [To ROOPE.] Charming lunch. Enjoyed myself enormously. MRS. QUEBEC. [Shaking hands with PHILIP hastily.] Good-bye, Mr. Mackworth. SWEET LA rENDER 27 [Realding.] " 1 am not coming a:1y morve 111s I can't sta11 til carryiigs 011 of that awVfHlI AlMc. Phenyl." [[ndignantly.] Well-1-- [Mle screws up the note rindiCtirely an(id throws it into the fire; then trninUg, he sees LAVENDER (End CLEMENT Close toetllher. TI AVENDER. [Giving the books to C(LEMENT, relctatidly.] 1ou won't look at mIy exereise till I've cleared thle breakfast table and gone right out of sight, will you? CLEMENT. Why? LAVENDER. It's so blotty. Dicl. [Fidyetinq.] TT'm! Clement, my boy! [AImonishing CLEMENT by hrving hl is pipe.] [LAVENDER goes to the breadj(st tlable anldl begins removing the things. CLEMENT. [Angrily.] Don't interfere, Dick. DicK. Thank you, lMr. HIale. 1St(dIin1 away ndifdanfly. CLEMi ENT. [To himself] Confound Dick's cynicism. How 28 THE BIG DR UM OTTOLINE. Philip --! [ ust as swiftly, they separate; and a moment afterwards ROOPE returns, rubbing his hands cheerily. ROOPE. ýAdvancing, but not shutting the door.] There! Now we re by ourselves! [To OTTOLINE.] You're not running away? OTTOLINE. [Confused.] Oh, I-I - ROOPE. It's only half-past-three. Why don't you and Mackworth sit down and have a little talk together? [To PHILIP, who has strolled to the further window and is looking into the street.] You're in no hurry, Phil? PHILIP. Not in the least. ROOPE. [Crossing to the writing-table.] I'll finish answering my letters; I sha'n't have a moment later on. [Gathering up his correspondence.] You won't disturb me; I'll polish 'em off in another room. [To OTTOLINE.] Are you goin' to Lady Paulton's by-and-by, by any chance? OTTOLINE. [Again at the flreilace, her back to ROOPE and PHILIP.] And Mrs. Jack Cathcart's-and Mrs. Le Roy's-- ROOPE. You shall take me to Lowndes Square, if you will. [Recrossing.] Sha'n't be more than ten minutes. [At the door.] Ten minutes, dear excellent friends. A quarterof-an-hour at the outside. SWEET LA VENDER 29 CJLEMENT. Pounds, shillings, aniid pence are to be withlidranvi from your meiital banking account; the intricate verb will torture you no longer; and the miouitainus of this world will have to settle their relative height amongst themselves. LAVENDER. [Falteringly.] I was afraid I was becoming too troublesome to you, Mr. Hale. CLEM1ENT. My dear child, it's not my doing, but D)octor Delaney's. LA VENDER. Oh, how cruel'! lie doesn't know how ignorant and stupid I am! [She returns to the Passage in tears. CLEM EXNT. [Savayely to D)Ic.] I'lThere DICK. Think of your health, Lavvy. Healtlh should be the first consideration with us all. [LAVENDER 2et urns,?liping her? eyes, to brnushl OW(U the crif 7/lbs. C'LEN IENT. r But I've a capital notion. If 3you may not read, there's nothing to lprevent your being read to. 30 THE BIG DBUM tunities of meeting you occasionally on a crowded staircase or in a hot supper-room. But-as for anything else OTTOLINE. [Slowly withdrawing her hands and futting them behind her.] As for-anything else -? PHILIP. I repeat-cui bono? [Regarding her kindly but penetratingly.] What would be the result of your reviving a friendship with an ill-tempered, intolerant person who would be just as capable to-morrow of turning upon you like a savage--? OTTOLINE. Ah, you are still angry with me! [With a change of tone.] As you did that evening, for instance, when I came with Nannette to your shabby little den in the Rue Soufflot PHILIP. Precisely. OTTOLINE. [ Walking away to the front of the fauteuil-stool.] To beg you to prdner my father and mother in the journal you were writing for-what was the name of it?-- PHILIP. [Following her.] The Whitehall Gazette. OTTOLINE. And you were polite enough to tell me that my cravings and ideals were low, pitiful, ignoble! PHILIP. [Regretfully.] You remember? A 1 SWEET LA VENDER 31 [CLEMENT folds the cloth amflrilq with J)ICK. LAVENDER opens the door and (admits HORACE 1RIEAM, a qood-iookinfj, wIelldressed fair-haired young American. hORACE. [A t the door.] Thank you-Mr. Hale? Thank you. [Advancing and looking frmn 'CLEMENT to DICK. You'll excuse me, I hope, but being rather in a hurry -[to DIcK]-Hale? [Dropping his end of the tablecloth.] No-Phenyl! IHORACE. [To CLEMENT.] Mr. Hale, I am perfectly delighted to make your acquaintance. Permit me to carry this through with you. [Placing his hat and stick on the floor, he picks up the end of the tablecloth and folds it with CLEMENT, wcho glares at him in annoyance. D)ICK sits on the sofa, chuckling. LAVENDERis seen8 8Jom time to time in the passage taking acway the breakfast things. CLEMENT. Really, I haven't the pleasure of-- IHORACE Horace Pinkley IBrenam. CLEMENT. Well, but 32 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. Pique? OTTOLINE. Within a few hours of that fatal visit of mine to your lodgings. [Looking at him significantly.] It was that that drove me to it. PHILIP. [Staring at her.] That -- OTTOLINE. [Simply.] Yes, Phil. PHILIP. Otto! OTTOLINE. [Plucking at the arm of her chair.] You see-you see, notwithstanding the vulgarity of my mind, I had a deep respect for you. Even then there were wholesome signs in me! [Shrugging her shoulders plaintively.] Whether I should have ended by obeying my better instincts, and accepting you, I can't say. I believe I should. I-I believe I should. At any rate, I had already begun to chafe under the consciousness that, while you loved me, you had no esteem for me. PHILIP. [Remorsefully.] My dear! OTTOLINE. [Raising her head.] That scene between us in the Rue Soufflot set my blood on fire. To have a request refused me was sufficiently mortifying; but to be whipped, scourged, scarified, into the bargain -! I flew down your stairs after I left you, and drove home, SWEET LAV ENDER CILEMENT. [To himself.] An intrusive table ('Ite acquaintance. LTo House.] N'oi1 left my friends at Nice, I piresinne? I I OR A( -E. No, Sir; We;i'e houe. CLEMENT. Home! 11 ORACE. I brought Mrs. Gilfillian and her daughter right through to London yesterday. Charming ladies. DICK. [To himself.] Hallo! CLEMENT. [Untder his breath.] Confound it! IIORACE. We left Wedderburn in Paris, buying things. An exceedingly pleasant gentleman. CLEMENT. [Disgtrctediq.] And where are Mrs. Giltillian and her daughter now? IHORACE. That's my dlifficulty-Where? I lost'em at Charing Cross station last night. Hfaving heard tlient frequently talk about you, I (llg lip your old apartments in Pear Tree CIourt, where I found your notice of removal. You have not seen Mrs. Gilfillian vit?t C 34 THE BIG DRUM OTTOLINE. But the women were either hopelessly bourgeoises or slightly diclassde. [Inspecting some of the pieces of bric-abrac upon the table.] Which decided us to attack London -and induced me to pay my call on you in the Rue Soufflot - PHILIP. I understand. OTTOLINE. To coax you to herald us in your weekly causeries. [Wincing.j Horrible of me, that was; horrible, horrible, horrible! [Refplacing an object upon the table and moving to the other side of the room.] However, I wasn't destined to share the earliest of the London triumphs. [Bitterly.] Mine awaited me in Paris, and at Vaudemont-Baudricourt, as the Comtesse de Chaumid! [Shivering.] Ugh-h-h-h -! [She is about to sit in the chair on the left when he comes to her impulsively and restrains her. PHILIP. My poor girl ---! OTTOLINE. [ With abandon.] Ah --! PHILIP. My poor dear girl! OTTOLINE. It's a relief to me to open my heart to you, Philip. [He leads her to the fauteuil-stool.] Robbie won't interrupt us yet awhile, will he? SWEET LA VENDER 35 DICK. I don't like voiur look, (Clem. What are vo going to (o N ('LEl M FANT. Do, I)ick! I ami goitig olt to 1 uyI " Fhedriick tho (reat," by Carlyle. Ile goes intE) l18 he bvroom. LAVENDER (ppears iln the ipassage. DICK. [Calling after CLEMENT.] Leave my chambers todlay! I've done with you! [To himse1f'j If 1Ruth could only afflord to send little L avvy away fol. the benefit of her health, what a solution it would be. I think I could contrive it if I had a few pounds to spare. But if I had a few pounds to spare, I couldn't spare 'em. Lavender! [LAVEND)ER tlakes Ifhefolded tlablecloth from the table and puts it away in the jideboard.] [Thinking.] Cripps has a fellow reading with himD who wants to buy a little library. [Looking towards the bookshelres.] There's my little library; the last remainder of the time wheln -- If (CJripps's pupil is good for fifteein pounds, I'll lend 'emi to Rutih ULolt, and Lavyy shall leave town. [Kyeingf LAVENDER.]3 Brighton into fifteen qulid won't go. Broadstairs into fifteen quid, four weeks and o01e day over. [Shaking his fist at the books.] Come oin! [Taking down the books, savagely.] I'll teach you to remind me of the timme when I was a promising Iad like Cripps's pupil LAVENDER. [J ('ftc/ infl bI imI 11 sI) r wi.l May I help yvu, Mlr. Phevl- V 36 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. [Gently.] Forgive me. OTTOLINE. It's been none of my doing; I've finished with le snobbisme entirely. [Pleadingly.] You don't doubt me? PHILIP. [Patting her hand.] No-no. OTTOLINE. Nowadays I detest coming across my name in print. But my people-[with a little moue] they will persist in-! PHILIP. Beating the big drum? OTTOLINE. Ha! [Brushing her hair from her brow fretfully.] Oh! Oh, Phil, it was blindness on my part to return to themsheer blindness! PHILIP. Blindness? OTTOLINE. They've been urging me to do it ever since my husband's death; so I had ample time to consider the step. But I didn't realize, till I'd settled down in Ennismore Gardens, how thoroughly I - PHILIP. [Finding she doesn't continue.] How thoroughly -? OTTOLINE. How thoroughly I've grown away from them-ceased to be one of them. [Stamfing her foot.] Oh, I know I'm SWEET LA IFENDER 37 DICK. Seaside, then? LAVENDER. No, we have a river with boats on it. 1)w 1 (.II Poohll, Lavvy? Think of fresh air, fresh eggs, fresh milk from the cow. We are all apt to undlerrate the importance of milk from the cow. LAVENDER. No. I'm happy here-so happy! DICK. [TIo himself] Thinking of hin!-Thinking of him! LAVEN)DEIR. Why do you look at the title-pages? DICK.. -Dic)%, I'm sorting my property from the other young gentleman's, Mr. Hale's. LAVENDER. [Eagerly.] Oh, let me (10 it! I'll look for Mr. Hale's name! I'11 take care you don't sell any of his. May I? Very well, Lavvy. [She takes a quantity (of' book/s Mrr the shelces, places them on the qro;und land kneels amongst the0. 38 THE BIG DR OUf OTTOLINE. To alter the whole current of my life, if it's possible, Esinking into the chair] and to breathe some fresh air! [Fanning herseif wilh her hand.] Phew-w-w-w i PHILIP. H'm! [ Afproaching her and looking down upon her.] According to report, Ottoline, you'd have very little difficulty in-escaping. OTTOLINE. [Glancing up at him.] Report? PHILIP. Rumor has it that there are at least a dozen ardent admirers at your feet, each with a wedding-ring in his waistcoat-pocket. OTTOLINE. [Reproachfully, her eyes meeting his.] Why, have you been listening to tittle-tattle as well as studying newspaper paragraphs! [He bows, good-humoredly.] My dear Philip, allowing for exaggeration, granting that my soufirants number half a dozen, which of them would enable me to fill my lungs with fresh air? Who are they, these enterprising men -? PHILIP. [Leaving her abruptly and going to the manteltiece.] Oh, pray don't ask me! I don't know who the fellows are-except-they say-Sir Timothy BarradellOTTOLINE. [Lightly but softly.] Sir Timothy! Sir Timothy has only just succeeded in fighting his way into the world I'm sick and tired of I [Shaking her head.] Poor Sir Tim! [Pityingly.] Ha, ha, ha, ha! SWEET LA FENDER 3 39 [CLEMENT goes to I)cc's door, listens, and then qaietly turns the key. LAVENDER. [WJith another )ook.] " Williamis on the Law of ILeal. Property." Clemerit 11al. Ah! [AS/ie opens the middle of' the book.] " Incorporeal IHereditaments." What a beautiful book! [SShe settles herlselj a little nearer the winidmO ((nd reads ear'neStl. CLEMENT Comes and sits upon the pile oq boo'ks beside hIr. CLEMENT. [Softly.] Lavender. With a low cry ' fQ/right she tirns slol.y and looks at h1im. LAVENDER. What are you doing there, Mr. 11ale? C! IEM3' ENT. i've conic to sit with you in the garden. JLAVENDER. The garden! [Staring at him, she tries to rise; lhe stretches out his hand and takes hers. LA.VENDER. [U'nder her breath.] MIr. I [e l 40 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. [Partly in jest, fartly seriously.] Do the buds still sprout on those trees in the Alle de Longchamp and the Champs-Elysees, can you tell me? OTTOLINE. [Falling in with his humor.] Ha, ha! Every spring, cher ami, regularly. PHILIP. And the milk at the Caf6 d'Armenonville and the Pre-Catelan-is it still rich and delectable? OTTOLINE To the young, I assume; scarcely to the aged widow-! PHILIP. Or the grey-haired scribbler! Ha, ha, ha, ha! OTTOLINE. Ha, ha, ha, ha -! [He turns and advances to her slowly, looking at herfixedly and earnestly. PHILIP. Ottoline-I wonder whether you'd care to walk under those trees with me again, for sentiment's sake, some fine day in the future -! OTTOLINE. [Staring at him.] C-care -? PHILIP. And if you would, whether I ought to tempt you to risk it I SWEET LA 'ENDER 4 41 you're accustomed to being my wife, they'll grow quite white. LAVENDER. But look at me-my frocks can't keep secrets if I can; I'm very poor. CLEMENT. I'll be poor with you, if it comes to that. LAVENDER. [LookUg up?' into his face.] Are you lpoor? CLEMENT. I've nothing-of miny own-but my profession. [Thoughtfudly.] I may become very 1poor. LAVENDER. [ Risin quickly.] Oh! C(LEM ENT. [Retreating a little.] Do you like me less for that? LAVENDEIR. [GoingL towards him.] Less! [(Checkin(l hersef.] I-I haven't said I like you at all, but if I ever did like you, it wouldl be because I know howo to be poor, and could teach you the way to bear it. g her tohi.]CLE M sweet, s.eet Li [Dramwiiey her to hima.] Mv -i-Aeet., siveet avne 42 THE BIG DR UM PHILIP. [PTessing her to him.] Ah! Too late for neither of us. It's a bargain? OTTOLINE. Yes-yes; butPHILIP. But -? OTTOLINE. [Her head drooping.] Must it be-some day? [AtItously.] Some day! PHILIP. There are signs in the sky; the day isn't far distant! OTTOLINE. I-I've money, Philip---- PHILIP. H'sssh! [Frowning.] Ottoline! CXTTOLINE. Ah, je vois q,,. vo/re orgueil es9 Plus fort que votre amour / PHILIP. Ha, ha! Peut-otre, je ne m'en defends Pas. You consent? OTTOLINE. [Pouting.] I may let my people know of the arrangement, may I not? You'll see them? PHILIP. My dear, what would be gained by that novw Y SWEET LA FENDER 43 C LIEMENT. Never. LAVENDER. [Happily.] Ah! CLEMENT. Tell me again you love me. LAVENDER. I never will. You miake me say things and then you laugh at m1e. [reunding her hecad to his.] I love you. TJe curtaifl over the dloorra/ is pushed (iside, (o1a( MRIs. GnILFILLIAN iiter's foJlloced l illNNIE. MRS. Gi(ILFIILIAN is a sedte ar(istocr( tic-lookiwli VIOmMI (tbout *kfti, with a lot1 f/))Orhe(d ((ad side curls. MINNIE is at haad1owe, lir'ely qyou (I'OIIH'U. Both afre f/(Shiolal! d(ressed. (l discoreriut, CLEMENT at LAVENDER'S fret AlIts. (xhi 11 ILIAN clutches MINNIE by the (f, l(nd takes her ot; CLEI31ENIT (tald LAVEN1DER, wlith their heads close together, beivU unConscious of' interraptioni. There is then a load rat-tat-tat (t the outer (door. CLEMENT and LAVENDER rise quickly, she dropp'ili aIoWui the books, whileo he goes and draws the curtain and (lisco Vers 1us. (ILF ILLIAN a01d MIINNIE. CLEMENT. Miy dear aunt. Mas. GILFILLAIAN enters the room filolwed b/y MN INNIE. MUs. (G'v,11ILumN. [Muchl dlisturbed, giing CLEMENT 11two0 ingers.] \We 44 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. [Ardently.] Otto -! OTTOLINE. Isn't that patience? [ heir lips meet in a lingering kiss. 7he handle of the door on the left is heard to rattle. Looking at the door, they draw back from one another. The handle rattles again. PHILIP. It's that idiot Robbie. OTTOLINE. Ha, ha, ha, ha -! [The door opens, and RooPE afiears, with an air of unconcern. ROOPE. [Humming.] Tra, lal, lal, la -! That's done, dear excellent friends! [ Closing the door, and comingforward.] Upon my word, letters are the curse of one's existence -! OTTOLINE. Ha, ha--! [Seizing him.] Robbie --- ROOPE. [Startled.] Hey? OTTOLINE. I can't take you to Lady Paulton's-or anywhere else. Philip and I are going to spend the rest of the afternoon here, if you'll let us-and talk-and talk--! [Suddenly embracing him, and kissing him upon the cheek.] Ah! Que vous rtes gentil! Merci-merci-merci--- STFEET LA JENDEk 4 5 woman! [Rshe shuts the dloor, and joins CLEMENT, (s AITNNIE looCks romz( the roomn.] We left Nice on Tuesday, Clement. Minnie and I cnme st rIiglit. through, biut Mr. Welderb1rn preferis tio db;lle fowI a week in Paris. [HIanding (CLEMI ENT a (I ck't of cafillet Hhot"fr(/lIhs.] e sendcls you thodse p1t ia its, donel by (h'otz of AMoite Ca tblo. YrUl. 1 inlie, don't pr1'y CLEMENT. [Looking at the photographs.] D)ear old guv'nor! [Reading the snuperscrziption on one of the portraits.] itFor my boy--from Geoffrey Wedderbi)trn11." ['To MARS. GITLFILLIAN.] Tile fact is, aunt, I've alretlvy heard of your return from a gentleman who was goo(1 enough to call on me. Miis. GllLLAnN. Not Mr. Bream! C L EM1E NT. Horace Pinkley Bream in Mus. (AInvILorAN. [ASinking into armnchair.] Oh MINNiE. [Sitting on sofa.] Oh, ima! MRs. GILFIJIANS. We shall never shake him Aof. He saive(1 Minie's life inll Paris by pulling herl fromt 1111(e1 a tran:r in the Avenue Mirabean. THE SECOND ACT The scene is a morning-room, richly furnished and decorated, in a house in Ennismore Gardens. The walls are of panelled wood for two-thirds of their height, the rest being covered with silk. In the wall at the back, between the centre and the left-hand corner, there is a handsome double-door opening upon another door, covered in thick cloth, which is supposed to give admittance to the library. On the right, in a piece of wall running obliquely towards the spectator from the back wall to the right-hand wall, is a companion double-door to that on the left, with the difference that the panels of the upper part of this door are glazed. A silk curtain obscures the glazed panels to the height of about seven feet from the floor, and above the curtain there is a view of a spacious hall. When the glazed door is opened, it is seen that the hall is appropriately furnished. A window is at the further end of it, letting in light from the street, and on the right of the window there is a lofty screen arranged in such a manner as to suggest that it conceals the front door of the house. The fireplace, where a bank of flowers hides the grate, is in the left-hand wall of the room. On the further side of the fireplace there is an armchair, and before the fireplace a settee. Behind the settee, also facing the fireplace, are a writing-table and chair; close to the further side of the writing-table is a smaller chair; and at the nearer end of the settee, but at some distance from 46 SIVEET LA VEN 1) E47e 47 C1LEMIENT.` It's sfIt ini -t,lone o'clock. 1\iRs. ( I I, FILIA N. We coidl ieiiMtin, if [BlanklY.] 1Delighted. [ ile lOes 0out. A Is. (41ILu JI AN bmods to sep that the (do0)or is closPd, thenii rics, and CPOSseS to AINN NT E. AIRS. GILFILLIAN. [WJith a yasp.] Minnie, my poor child! You saw that young woman? AMINNIE. I'm afraid I did, imamman. Mus. (4ILFILLIAN. What were they ldoig? I have never felt my near sight so keenly. AIlNNIE. Clement \Asqq kvieelingi nino rinary wlerrAeiit '~fU, 11h11)in:1 hii han.llavv vav. Awil I tHiik-i he %vns liollwir lier' hitil. 48 4THE BIG DROtM WESTRIP. [Entering and closing the door.] Lady Filson isn't down yet? Miss TRACER. No. [Tossing the picture-fafer on to the round table.] She didn't get to bed till pretty late last night, I suspect. WESTRIP. [Advancing.] I thought she'd like to look through these. [Showing Miss TRACER the press-cuttings. ] From the press-cutting agency. Miss TRACER. [Picking uIp her note-book and rising.] You bet she would! WESTRIP. [Handing her the fress-cuttings.] Let me have them back again, please. Sir Randle hardly had time to glance at them before he went out. MIss TRACER. [Inquisitively, elevating her eyebrows.] He's out very early? WESTRIP. Yes; he's gone to a memorial service. Miss TRACER. Another! [ With a twinkle.] That's the third this month. WESTRIP. So it is. I'm awfully sorry for him. SWEET LA FENDER 49 M1RS. GILFILLIAN. [With horror.] Minnie! There's somebody else in that room! MINNIE. [Retreating.] Oh, ma,! MRs. GILFILLIAN. And this is the Law! [From within.] C(lemeIIllt! Clemnelt! Mns. GILFILLIAN. [Listening.] It's a man's voice-or a deep contralto. DICK. [Still within.] Locked in, Clement, my boy. [MRS. GILFILLIAN turns the key in the door, and retreats. DICK enters in the old and worn wig and gowan ojfa barrister. 1!'01')L W~y D I C I%-.r If CICl''~e' Thank you. [En quiringig.] To see Mr. Hale? MUs. GILFILLIAN. Oh, I have seen Mr. Hale. May I ask-? Richard Phenyl. Hfale faL(l 1 live together. MRS. (4ILFILLIAN. E1Lagerly.] Dear me I wish to speak to you 1) 50 THE BIG DRUM wreaths were sent by... h'm, h'm, h'n, h'm. Sir Randle and Lady Filson! [Replacing the press-cuttings upon the table.] Ha, ha, ha, ha--! [ Checkin. herself and turning toWESTRIP.] Our conversation is strictly private, Mr. Westrip? WESTRIP. [Somewhat disturbed.] Strictly. Miss TRACER. [Smiling at him winningly and moving to the settee before the fireflace.] You're a nice boy; I'm sure you wouldn't make mischief. [Sinking on to the settee with a yawn.] Oh! Oh, I'm so weary! WESTRIP. Weary? Before you've begun your morning's work! Miss TRACER. Before I've begun it! I had a parade down-stairs in the servants' hall at a quarter-to-ten. WESTRIP. Parade? Miss TRACER. We've two new women in the house who are perfect idiots. They can't remember to say, " yes, my lady " and " no, my lady " and ", very good, my lady " whenever Lady Filson speaks to them. One of them actually addressed her yesterday as " ma'am." I wonder the roof didn't fall in. WESTRIP. [Meditatively.] I've noticed that Sir Randle and Lady Filson have a great relish for being Sir'd and Lady'd. I SWEET LA JllNDER 5 51 [MINNIE 8tops I)jl(/il$I, ((nd MR.S. GJILFILLIAN goes to her, remonstrating. DICK. [To himsel.] WVe're ill for it. We've,made our choice. We prefer linsey and a lilten collar to satin and Valenciennes. Very well! Now it's come to it, I'll stick to you, Clement, my boy! [Arrangingq his wig and gown, anid striking a forensic attitude.] For the defendant! MRs. G(ILFnuLAN. [Returning to Dici.] What you tell ine is in perfect confidence. Not at all necessary. m'im-wNe court iniluiry. The young lady is the daughter of Mrs. 1olt, who resides, to put it plainly, in the basement. MRS. (AILFILLIAN. A. loWv wonian? L[Pointili dlo(1nwamthrd-s. ] Geogar 1)1ic al1ly--not othierwise. [IIINNIE resoumes playing so/ly. MRS. GILFILLIAN. Nonsense, sir. These people attend upon you. This girl's mother is what you call a comnmoii servant. No, mia'amu --she is what I call a lady. THE BIG DRUM he'd rendered to the cause of patriotism. Lambert saw the draft of the letter on her mistress's dressing-table. [Shaking with laughter.] Ho, ho, ho! And what d'ye think? WESTRIP. W-well? Miss TRACER. The corrections were in his handwriting! WESTRIP. [Shocked.] In Sir Randle's--! Miss TRACER. [.umfing up.] Phiou! I'm fearfully indiscreet. [Going to WESTRIP and touching his coat-sleeve.] Between ourselves, Mr. Westrip! WESTRIP. [Moving to the round table.] Quite-quite. Miss TRACER. [Following him.] Oh, they're not a bad sort, by any means, if you just humor them a bit. We all have our little weaknesses, haven't we? I've mine, I confess. WESTRIP. They've both been excessively kind to me. [Turning to her.] And as for Madame de Chaumi-- MISS TRACER. Oh, she's a dear-a regular dear! WESTRIP. [Fervently.] By Jove, isn't she! SWEET LA VENDER 3 53 Hi ORACE. [Excitedly.] Lost you at the Custom House counter last night-saw you in a i ansom this mlorning- never mieant to rest till I'd f1ound you. [1IoRACE.- uoes to MINNIE. AIRS. GILFILLIAN. [ Helplessly sinking into a chair.] Oh, dear me! 1TORACE. [T7'o MINNIE, takI? 2 her h1and.] My dear Miss Gilfillian! MINNIE. [Distractedly.] (Oh, how lio you do, Mr. Bream? RUTh1. [Quietly to Mns. GILFLLIAN.] You wish to speak to me, ma'tim? MlRS. (ITLFTIJLIAN,. [Rising.] Mrs. Rolt! hIUTII. Yes. 1\11S. -."ILFILLIA-N. I have discovered that there have been-some love passuages between Mr. Hale and your dlaughter. I-I-- Ihur n. Yes. My (daughter hias just told me thm at Mr. 1-lale has offeu-ed her marriage. 84 THE BIG DB UM WESTRIP. It isn't here. [Going to the glazeddoor.] I'll hunt for it down-stairs. LADY FILSON. Thank you. [Discovering the file of press-cuttings.] What's this? [Affecting annoyance.] Not more presscuttings! [Beginning to devour the cuttings.] Tcht, tcht, tcht! [As WESTRIP reaches the door, BERTRAM FILSON enters. He is wearing riding-dress. BERTRAM. [A conceited, pompous young man of thirty.] Goodmorning, Mr. Westrip. WESTRIP. Good-morning, Mr. Filson. [WESTRIP goes out, closing the door. BERTRAM. [To Miss TRACER.] Good-morning, Miss Tracer. Miss TRACER. [ Who has seated herself in the chair at thefurther side of the writing-table-meekly.] Good-morning. LADY FILSON. [HaIf turning to BERTRAM, the Press-cuttings in her hand.] Ah, my darling! Was that you I saw speaking to Underwood as I came through the hall? BERTRAM. Yes, mother dear. [Bending over her and kissing her.] How are you? I SWEE 'T Li UEN DF R 55 55 RUTH. In ilndeed. [LAfter a paYse, she /o(s qaickl/ to Mlics. (qlon4lLIAANI and whispoers.] MAland! MNadanm [MIus. (h1x1IMLIAN t?0's.] You- you have Iniisuiiderstood meW. I-I give you my word imy dailghter shall never marry MR. Itale. Mnus. GILFJILLIAN. [R Iisin. irith the?written teleqrama in her h1wad.] What! R1UTh. [G'lancing round.] IHuli! [LAVENDER enters the pawtisge, aii 1 takes (p) the tray from the butler's stand. CLEMENT bfollows and stands whitsperi)u to lher. MIINNIE aud HORACE rte in close coiversation. END OF THE FIRST ACT. 56 THE BIG bRBUM LADY FILSON. [Reading a letter.] Lady Skewes and Mrs. Walter Quebec... arranging a concert in aid of.. [sighing] tickets, of course!... what tiring women! [turning the sheet] oh!.. may they include me in their list of patronesses?... Princess Cagliari-Tamponi, the Countess of Harrogate, the Viscountess Chepmell, Lady Kathleen Tring... [laying the letter aside] delighted. [Heaping together the cards and the rest of the letters. I must answer those myself. [To Miss TRACER.] That s all. [Miss TRACER rises.] Get on with the invitations for July the eighth as quickly as you can. Miss TRACER. [Going to the glazed door.] Yes, Lady Filson. LADY FILSON. [Turning.] Miss TracerMiss TRACER. [Halting.] Yes, Lady Filson? LADY FILSON. I think Madame de Chaumie wants you to do some little commissions for her. Kindly see her before you go to your room. BERTRAM. [To MIss TRACER, looking up.] No, no; don't. LADY FILSON. [To BERTRAM.] Not? BERTRAM. My sister is engaged, mother. STFEET LA IENDEf) 7 CLEMENT. C'L El, I EX I A ny good news, Dick? [With aru.]No. [I )trc wtrlks to a(nd ro i(moodil/. CLEAMENT. How is she, Mrs. Rolt? RUThT. I fear just the same. CLEMENT. May I not see her for a moment--call to her at her door? I'll be quiet enough. RUTH. No, no-not yet. CLEMENT. Not yet, Mrs. Rolt. Still not yet. Oh, you mothers! RUTH. [Bitterly.] Ah-we mothers! CLEMENT. [IlHandiv her the hasket of f)lIoers.] Give her these flowers with my Sny I- You know. [Ile drops dlisconsolatel/ into the armchair. [Calmly.] Thank you. They are very beauitful. [She goes out C LEMENT lthen rises imp)atiently. 58 THE BIG DRUM LADY FILSON. I've a feeling that something is in the air. He positively shadowed her last night at the Gorhams'! BERTRAM. [Knitting his brows.] I admit I should prefer, if my sister contemplates marrying again, that her choice fell on one of the others. LADY FILSON. Mr. Trefusis-or George Delacour -? BERTRAM. Even Trevor Wilson. [ Wincing.] The idea of a merchant brother-in-law doesn't appeal to me very strongly, I mean t'say. LADY FILSON. Still, a baronet-! BERTRAM. And I suppose -? LADY FILSON. Oh, enormously! BERTRAM. [Magnanimously.] Anyhow, my dear mother, if Ottoline is fond of the man, I promise you that not a murmur from me shall mar their happiness. LADY FILSON. [Tenderly, pinching his chin.] My darling! BERTRAM. hWith a shiver.] I'm afraid I am getting a little chilled; [giving her the press-cuttings] I'll go and change. SIIEET LA I'FlNDI 5 59 1e unduly distre-ssing oIrselves-I say ourselves, because ill this ('Ise Mr. Iichard Ihioeiyl is with you. CoLEM ENT. B'less you, I)ick We should remember that we;'aro youngrlsters at this sort of game; that thliis is, in point of fact, the first time we hiave offered ourselves in marriage. For all we know, the vrospe(t of an alliance with us wouldl.set up a condition of cerebral exciteiment in any young lady. [Takin!, up the poker to aid him 'in his 1r8ument.] No, no, Clement my boy, it isn't Lavvy's illness that puzzles meCLf~3 E I E NX" What tlhen, Dick Why, the sulddlen, self-satisfied, allhlility of our aunt, Mrs. Gilfillian. CJE'I3ENT. Ah! DilcK. [Floutrishi'Um the poker.] T'lierelc's,an unipleasing anir of truculent triumph ii ir' nult's deomenour tfhat I resent, Clement, mlly boy! C, E M EXT. And I too, Dick! And the incessant civility anld attention I'm in (luty bound to show MArs. Cilfillian (Irives me mad. Good gra'cious, Dick! she and MinniCe never leave me for a moment! Missing Page SW'EET LA 'ENDER patience, declared I wavs neglecting mlly stulies, and rushed away to buy a few tlowet's for my d(eal one. DICK. I1) rcic. Well, Clein, PelIIrhIaps it elln:Ibles you to forget for a minute or two the poor little sick gill downst;lirs. CLJEM ENT. Ah, Dick, that's unworthy of yoll! TWhyq every street to me is " Lavender Street"; the newsboys shout nothliing )ut " Lavender! " " Evening Lavender! " and the flower girls sell only swveet L;avendler from their baskets. The whole world is perfumedl with Lavender; and yet she and I seem so fiar apart, Dick-so very far apart. [7'here is a rat-tat at the outer doow. I)[CK. A visitor. Can it be our aunt? CLEM EXT. [JVearily.] Open the door, D)ick, like a goodl fellow. [DDICK opens the door, MINNIE is outside. D)ICK. Miss (4ilfillilan! M INN I E. Yes. ai\ay I see Clement, Mr. Phenllyl? I don't wishli to (Lazzle yon, Miss Gilfillian, but you may see both of us. Conme in. 62 THE BIG DRUM SIR RANDLE. None the worse for being self-made, Winnie. LADY FILSON. Not in my estimation. SIR RANDLE. H'm, h'm, h'm, h'm -! LADY FILSON. [Softly.] It wouldn't sound bad, Randle. SIR RANDLE. [Leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.] "Lady Barradelv. LADY FILSON. [In the same way.] "1Lady Barradell." SIR RANDLE. [In a tmurmur, but with greatgusto.] "1 A marriage is arranged and will shortly take place between Sir Timothy Barradell, Bart., of 16, The Albany, and Bryanstown Park, County Wicklow, and Ottoline, widow of the'late Comte de Chaumie, only daughter of Sir Randle and Lady Filson, of 71, Ennismore Gardens, and Pickhurst, Bramsfold, Sussex." LADY FILSON. [After a shortiause, in a low voice.] Darling Ottoline! What a wedding she shall have! [Ageain there iT a pause, and then SIR RANDLE leaves his chair and seats himselfbeside LADY FILSON, SWEET LA UJENDER 63 _DICK. [Joilniin in the blaugh.] tHa, ha! AIlNNIE. [S~uldealy sereioas.] It's awfully wronig. DIICK. [S2erioisly,.] Yes, it'll vex our lillian. MlINNIE. [T'o CLEMENT.] But mailnlla will half-past eight, Clein dlear. aunt-Mrs. Gilcall for us here at For vs? CLEMENT. MIINNIE. Why, haven't you received her letter? DICK. Dear ine, quite forgot--letter for yoiu soiiin-ewhere, Clem. [LI rrul,inl the armC1ha ir' /f0i' M INNI E.] Miss (Gilfillialli, toss for the IEarmchnair? 1 mean, try the armichair. [CLEMENT fil(lS the letter on the teac?/p awtd opens it. C LEM EN 'T. [Ileadi-UI the lebter disco)solat)ltl/. j " W\e have a box for four persons for (Ile Cabl iiinet 'lieatre to witness the new plary about which 'people talk so uicl -' -The Sealskin Jacket.' I heari it l descrihe(l as a salutary lesson to young nien. We shall fetch you at half 64 THE BIG DBUM SIR RANDLE. How we are pestered, Lady Filson and I! LADY FILSON. Terrible! SIR RANDLE. No peace! No peace! LADY FILSON. Or privacy. WESTRIP. [Producing a note-book from his focket.] They will attend here any morning convenient to you and Lady Filson, Sir Randle. It won't take ten minutes. SIR RANDLE. [To LADY FILSON, resignedly.] Winnie-? LADY FILSON. [Entering the appointment on a tablet.] Tuesday at eleven. SIR RANDLE. [To WESTRIP.] Remind me. WESTRIP. [ Writing in his note-book.] Yes, Sir Randle. SIR RANDLE. And advise Madame de Chaumi6 and Mr. Bertram, with my love, of the appointment. Her ladyship and I will be photographed with our children grouped round us. WESTRIP. [To SIR RANDLE.] Then there's a telegram from the Daily Monitor, Sir Randle--- 1 SWEET LA VENDER [MINNIE eyes DicKi, rnd loo100s (CLEMEN'I' significan tly. MINNIE. [In (a vudertone.] (lemient-Mr. Pheniyl CLEMENT. [Trying -to attract Oh! yes. Dick! DICK'S atlte?tioll.] DICK. [Sitting at table.] No, no. CLEMENT. Dick! DICK. Rather busy to-night, Clement, my boy. [CLEMENT makes signs to DICK to depart, while DICK, thinking that CLEMENT is renewing his persuasions with regard to the theatre, shakes his head. CLEMENT. [Impatiently.] IDick Oh! [Shaking CLEMENT'S Clement! [Jrhispers to him. hand.] AMy dear [Ile snatches up a book firom the sofa, a newespaper from the table, and a pipe and tobacco jar from the mantelp)iece, (nd goes to the door oJ'f his own room. M2 THE BIO DRUM WESTRIP. Excellent, sir. SIR RANDLE. [Opening his eyes.] Pray amplify that in graceful language, Mr. Westrip-restricting yourself to forty-eight words-- [He breaks off, interrupted by the appearance of OTTOLINE at the glazed door.] Ah, my darling! OTTOLINE. Good-morning, Dad. [To WESTRIP.] Good-morning. WESTRIP. [Shyly.] Good-morning. OTTOLINE. [To SIR RANDLE-advancing a few steps, but leaving the dpor open.] Are you and mother busy? SIR RANDLE. Not at all. LADY FILSON. [ Who has turned in her chair at OTTOLINE'S entrance.] Not at all, Otto. SIR RANDLE. [To WESTRIP.] I will join you in the library, Mr. Westrip. [WESTRIP withdraws at the door on the left, and SIR RANDLE goes to OTTOLINE and embraces her.] My dear child! OTTOLINE. [In rather a strained voice.] Sir Timothy Barradell is here, Dad. SIR RANDLE. I heard he had called. SWIEET LA IENDER 6 67 MINNIE. About your studies. Come, Clem. [lipe takes Iis hand and places him on the soqa, tlhen sitS on the headil of the so/f lookiUC downU, pIupn hio.] Let uS 1) flogies for a ioieiit. You kiiow we wvere very fond of each other as childroei, wereuI't we? CLEMEN'. Yes, Minnie, and MINNIE. Hush! Well, then, dear, as we grew up we grew out of our love, as boys and girls outgrow their clothes. Your love, as it were, got too short in the waist, and mine wouldn't meet at the buttons. And at last, one fine day we yawned, Clem, and the seams of our affection parted. CLEMENT. [Takinug her hand, embarra(ssetd.] My dlear Minnie MINNIE. [SittinU beside him.] Ah, Clem, don't let us mourn for it; we're lucky to have yawned in time, dear. And so I want you to understand that I won't help to mend and patch an old attachment; I won't put an extra flounce or a new set of hooks and eyes on a garment a couple of children wove to rags years ago. There! That's what I call putting myself right with you. CLEMENT. [7Tenderly-takifl! her h1ands.] My d(1.1r sister, how compassioimte you are to te! a8 THE BIG DR UM entlly, and then SIR 'TIMOTHY BARRADELL enters. He is a well-knit, fleasant-looking Irishman of about forty, speaking with a slight brogue. LADY FILSON. [Advancing to greel him.] My dear Sir Timothy! SIR TIMOTHY. [As they shake hands.] And how's my lady this morn. ing? Are you well? OTTOLINE. [At the door.] I'll leave youSIR TIMOTHY. [Turning to her hastily.) Ah --! [ Taking her hand.] I'm not to see you again. OTTOLINE. [Shaking her head.] No. [Smiling.] We've saidgoodbye up-stairs. [ Withdrawing her hand.] Que Dieu vous frotegel Good luck to you! SIR TIMOTHY. [Ruefully.] Luck! [In an undertone.] I've never had anything else till now; and now it's out entirely. OTTOLINE. [Gently.] Shsssh -! [She goes into the hall and he stands watching her till she disappears. Then he closes the door and faces LADY FILSON and SIR RANDEL. SIR TIMOTHY. [Mournfully but good-humoredly.]- Ha! That's over. SWEET LA VENDER 69 MINNIE. Anything but marry mine. Well, don't wait for Uncle Geoffrey's return, but write to him to the Hotel Rivoli in Paris, and tell him how you adoremy hatedl rival. Uncle Geof. is a )bachelo', but married men and bachelors 1are manufactured by the same process-love, Clem-and he'll understand. Tell him all, and say that the girl you have lost your treacherous heart to has won one statunch friendMinnie Gilfillian. CLEMENT. My dear sister, I'll write directly I got h;ik from the theatre. [l'PttinU his hand to his breast.] Shall I send him her portrait? MINNIE. [Pointing.] You've got one there! CLEMENT. Ho;v did you guess? MINNIE. You silly boy? Show it me. [Me sits in the arlmchair; he takes a small photograph froin his pocket tand hands it to her. She leans back, scrutinising the portrait with a great ahir o/ indilffre'Ctnce.] So this is the little lady I saw yesterday, in her best frock, is it? CLEMENT.1 Yes I stole it from Dick Phenyl's albu.111 70 THE BIG DBUM LADY FILSON. [Under her breath.] Oh! SIR RANDLE. God bless me! Frankly, I had no conception - LADY FILSON. Nor I-the faintest. SIR TIMOTHY. And as I've received a great deal of kindness and hospitality in this house, I thought that, in common gratitude, I ought to explain the cause of my abrupt disappearance from your circle. SIR RANDLE. [In a tone of deep commiseration.] I-I understand. You-you intend to -? SIR TIMOTHY. To take a trip round the world, to endeavor to recover some of the wind that's been knocked out of me. SIR RANDLE. [Closing his eyes.] Distressing! Distressing! LADY FILSON. Most. [Coming to SIR TIMOTHY, feelingly.] Oh-oh, Sir Timothy -! SIR TIMOTHY. [ With sudden bitterness.] Ah, Sir Timothy, Sir Timothy, Sir Timothy! And what's the use of my baronetcy now, will you inform me-the baronetcy I bought and paid for, in hard cash, to better my footing in society? The mockery of it i Now that I've lost her, the one woman I shall SWEET LAVENDER 71 MINNIE. Hush, Clem! [Taking his hand.] I'll tell you. When a gil knows she is loved by the man she loves she has a charmed life- -lier heart can't stop. If ever the elixir rcitae is (liscovered, Clecm, it'll turn out to be a bottle of something to keep a man and a woman in love with each other. There, run along and put its pretty things on for the theatre! [ile kisses her hand, and goes into his bedroom. [Seeing the tea-things.] Tea! [Putting her hand on the teapot.] Hot! I must take to tea violently, now I'm going to be an old maid. To-morrow I'll buy a kitten. [There is a rat-tat at the outer door.] Mannmma! What a scolding's in store for me! Oh, dear! [ She goes to the door and opens it. iioRACE BREAM is outside; he is in ecening dress, and carries a cane. HORACE. Mr. Hale? AMINNIE. [Startled.] Oh! [She lea ces the door in a /lttcr.] Horace Bream! How awkward! [HORAcE closes the door and Jollows hcer into the room. I fORACE. My dear Miss Gilfillian! Mll NNIE. [Uneasily.] I daresay you're surpLrised-to meet 72 THE BIG DR UM SIR TIMOTHY. [Sighing.] If I'd had the pluck to declare myself sooner, it might have been different. [Staring before him.] From the moment I first set eyes on her, at the dinner-party you gave to welcome her on her arrival in London-from that moment I was captured completely, body and soul. The sight of her as she stood in the drawing-room beside her mother, with her pretty, white face and her elegant figure, and a gown clinging to her that looked as though she'd been born in it'twill never fade from me if I live to be as old as a dozen Methuselahs! SIR RANDLE. [Pyingly.] Er-has Ottoline-I have no desire to probe an open wound-has she assigned any-rea. son --? SIR TIMOTHY. [Rousing himself.] For rejecting me? SIR RANDLE. [ With a wave of the hand.] For-- LADY FILSON. For not seeing her way clear-- SIR RANDLE. To-er-in short-accept you? SIR TIMOTHY. She has. LADY FILSON. Has she! SWEET LA VI'ENDER 73 IIORACE. [To himsel'.] I can't-I can't endure this a mininute longer. [He crosses to the sofa, where hlie sits watching MINNIE. MINNIE. [To herself.] How emibarrasci-i! I wish I was buried! 11IRACE. [To himsel.] If this continues for another five seconds 1 shall shriek aloud. MINNIE. I'll put a bold face on the matter-anu Aimeric.an girl wvould( be equal to twice this. [Looking antirily at Ithe back of the armchair, in which she sq)pposes I lOILACE to be, while he watches her with curiosity.] Bother! [HORACE 71ises in 8?urprrise, tand MINNIE, pcephiny o0'er the back of the chair, finds it empty and turns, f/tcingi HORACE with c gasp ] Oh! [hI colfJsion.] Pray excuse my having left you for a momient. Will 3you have some tea? [Sitting. HIORACE. [Resuming his seat.] I shall be perfectly delighrted. [To himiself] In English society while there is tea there is )hope. M INNIB. Sugar e 110ACE. Thank you. [Cheelfally to himiself.] We lhave fairly started. 74 THE BIG DRUM depressing company. [Going to LADY FILSON, who rises at his approach, and taking her hand.] My dear lady - LADY FILSON. [Genuinely.] My dear Sir Timothy! SIR RANDLE. [Moving to the glazed door.] Painful! Painful! [As SIR TIMOTHY turns from LADY FILSON, BERTRAM reappears, in morning-dress, entering from the hall. BERTRAM. ýDrawing back on seeing SIR TIMOTHY.] Oh -! [7o SIR RANDLE.] Am I intruding? SIR RANDLE. Come in, my boy. You're just in time to give a parting grasp of the hand to our friend here. BERTRAM. [Advancing to SIR TIMOTHY, surprised.] Parting -? LADY FILSON. [To BERTRAM.] Sir Timothy is going abroad, Bertram. BERTRAM. Really? [To SIR TIMOTHY.] Er-on business? SIR TIMOTHY. Well, not precisely on pleasure. [Shaking hands with BERTRAM.] Good-bye to you. BERTRAM. [Puzzled.] Good-bye. [SIR TIMOTHY makes a final bow to LADY FILSON and defarts, followedby SIR RANDLE, SWEET LA VENDER 7 75 MINNIE. [ Rising quickly and haughtily.] Indeed! IHORACE. [Contemplating her.] Now, how thoroughly clharacteristic that is of this old country. [Rising Iith his hat and cane.] Miss Gilfillian. [lHe goes to her-she moes away. IHe retreats, care]ily choosing his positionl by selecting a particular spot in the pattern (!/ the carplet with the end of his cave.] Miss Gilfillian, the time I have spent in your society;and in that of yourt delightful mother has been extremely fascinating to lle. MlINNIE. [Distantly.] Oh, thank you. [Adeantcigl a stp) or two.] 1. need not say I shall -dlwvays remembeir gratefully the service you riendered me in Paris. Pray don't allude to that. I- [lie fos tOWU'ars her; she retreats to her former position. /iter a slilht paiwse, he identimes his particular spot on the carpet ((nd returns to it.] But, Miss Gilfillian, I cert'nly did hope that those enchanting moments in Nice and in Monte Carlo, where I had the honour of instructing you in Trenite et Quarante, niight be continued in this -dear old country. And that's why I'mu here to constilt my fieinid Hale. MI.N N IE. [Firing up.] Pray, what has IMr. Hale to do with it? 76 THE BIG DRUM BERTRAM. [Walking about.] Possibly! Possibly! LADY FILSON. [Anxiously.] I do hope she realizes what she's doing, Bertram. Sir Timothy could buy them both up, with something to spare. BERTRAM. #I agree, my dear mother; but it would have been horribly offensive to us, I mean t'say, to see the name of Ottoline's husband branded upon sides of bacon in the windows of the provision-shops. LADY FILSON. Oh, disgusting! [Brightening.] How sensibly you look at things, darling! BERTRAM. [Takini up a position before the fireplace.] Whereas George Ielacour and Edward Trefusis are undeniably gentlemen-gentlemen by birth and breeding, I mean t'say. LADY FILSON. Trefusis is connected, through his brother, with the Northcrofts! BERTRAM. Quite so. If Ottoline married Edward, she would be Lady Juliet's sister-in-law. LADY FILSON. Upon my word, Bertie, I don't know which of the two I'd rather it turned out to be! [SIR RANDLE returns, with a solnemn countenance. He closes the door and comes forward. SWEET LA FENDER 77 lMINNIE. C[A irily.] I never see you, sir. IHIORACE. I trust 1 know better than to intrude. MINNIE. Where do you learn our movements. IIORACE. At the hotel. MINNIE. [In(lignantly.] You present yourself at our hotel HORACE. You are stayinig at my hotel. MINNIE. Oh! On the same floor, I presume. IIORACE. No. MIN NIE. [Sarcastically.] Thank you. IORACE. I occupy the room immediately Jceneath your Own. MIINNIE. To listen to my movements! '18 7THE BIG DRUM BERTRAM. I venture to suggest it may be Edward Trefusis. SIR RANDLE. [ To BERTRAM, halling again.] My dear boy, in a matter of this kind, I fancy we can rely on your mother's wonderful powers of penetration. BERTRAM. [Bowing.] Pardon, father. LADY FILSON. [Closing her eyes.] "s Mrs. George Delacour." SIR RANDLE. [Partly closing his eyes and again resuminrg his walk.] " A marriage is arranged and will shortly take place between George Holmby Delacour, of-of-of -- BERTRAM. [Closing his eyes.] " 90, St. James's Street -" SIR RANDLE. [Halting and opening his eyes.] One thing I heartily deplore, Winifred LADY FILSON. [Ofening her eyes.] What is that, Randle? SIR RANDLE. Ottoline being a widow, there can be no bridesmaids; which deprives us of the happiness of paying a pretty compliment to the daughters of several families of distinction whom we have the privilege of numbering among our acquaintances. SWEET LIi 'ENDER If ORACE. Theii I slhall ask lperIissioii t.o -)r(joi1I Yo delightful par'ty. I 1N N I E,. Oh (1J1,EMEN'r enters, dreSSeJ;d for the t1he(lre. CLEMENT. 79 ur mo-st Half-past eight. [MINNIE, mIch dishirhed, 2'? s V) to hili. MTINNIE. Clement, here is that Mr. 13ream. CLEMENT. Eli? [,Seein IHORACE and nodding distantly.] How d'ye do? [HORAcE relturns CLEMENT'S s('t(datiofl withe a gen2ial ware of the hand. HORACE. How are you? CLEMENT. [S'oftly to MINNIE.] What's he doing hlere? 1\IINNIE. [To CLEMENT.] Just What h l does everywhere.j Hlie's the original little ol0d manl of the se:a! [tamping her foot.] Iic-lie must he awfully fonl of mamma! CLEMENT. [To himself.] We eCtn't sJihl him iafter his splendid TiE BIG DRUM BERTRAM. Ladies Lilian and Constance Foxe - LADY FILSON. [Writing.] " Lady Eva Sherringham-Ladies Lilian and Constance Foxe -" BERTRAM. Lady Irene Pallant-- SIR RANDLE. 1 pray there may be no captious opposition from Ottoline. LADY FILSON. Surely she doesn't want to be married like a middleclass widow from Putney I [ Writing]. ", Lady Blanche Finnis -" BERTRAM. If pages are permissible-to carry my sister's train, I mean t'say - SIR RANDLE. Pages-yes, yes-- BERTRAM. There are the two Galbraith boys-little Lord Wensleydale and his brother Herbert--- LADY FILSON. [ Writing.] Such picturesque children! SIR RANDLE. I doubt whether the bare civilities which have passed between ourselves and Lord and Lady Galbraith - SWEET LA VENDER S 8I HORACE. [Bowimg.] Oh, cert'nly. [To himsel] Thllat's just cruel, anyway. DICK. [C(JlappJiug his hat on the manItelpiece and hastily 2remnoving his gloves.] Couldn't think of it! Happy release for all parties. IfORACE. [ Throwin01 his hat in the air and catching it.] Ia MINNIE. [To herself.] It is Fate! [There is a very pronoucmed rat-tat-tal at the outer door. MINNIE. My mamma! HORACE. [To himself.] And, I hope, mine. CLEMENT. [T6 DICK.] That's aunt, Dick. D)ICK. Auntie, undoubtedly. C [EM3 EN'I'. [ Ilesitatiogly.] Will yon11-er? No, Clemient, m1y boy. I opeid0 the door last - oU' tllurn. THE BIG DRUM OTTOLINE. [Passinr her hands over her face and walking to the settee on the right.] Ha, ha, ha, ha-----! LADY FILSON. [Rising and moving to the firefplace, complainingly.] Really, Ottoline ---! OTTOLINE. [Sitting upon the settee.] Ha, ha, ha--! LADY FILSON. [ 7To BERTRAM, who is slowly getting to his feet.] Go away, Bertie darling. OTTOLINE. Mais Pourquoi? Bertie knows everything, obviously. LADY FILSON. Why shouldn't lie, Otto? Your brother is as interested as we are - OTTOLINE. But of course! Naturellement! [ ith a shrug.] C'est une affaire de famille. [To BERTRAM, who is now at the door on the left, his hand on the door-handle.] Come back, Bertie. [Refeating her wry smile.] I shall be glad to receive your congratulations with mother's and Dad's. [.1b SIR RANDLE and LADY FILSON.] Sit down, Dad; sit down, mother. [SIR RANDLE sits in the chairon the left of the settee on the right, LADY FILSON in the lowbacked armchair, and BERTRAM at the oblong table.] Are you very much surprised, dear people? SIR RANDLE. Surprised? Hardly. SWVEET LA VENDER 8 83 MINNIE. They're quicker than four-wheelers, nimannua. MARS. tILFILLIAN. Quicker! They're faster. I never drove in hansoms alone till I was thirty-three, and then I made the driver promise not to look at me through the roof. MINNIE. They never do that when you're alone. Mamma --[coaxizng]-I'm very sorry. MARS. GILFILLIAN. Sorry! MINNIE. I wanted to speak to Clement-just by ourselvesthere! I MRS. GILFILLIAN. You haven't quarrelled MINNIE. Quarrelled! No. We understand each other better now than we have ever done. MIRS. GILFILLIAN, [Patting MINNIE'S cheek appqqrodingly.] Perhaps I've been a little too cross with you [In a( whisper.] But you must tell me everything to-nigliht before you close your eyes. Mind-everything! MINNIE. Yes-everything I 84 THE BIG DRUM OTTOLINE. So that he might have taken the edge off the announcement I'm going to make-and spared me - SIR RANDLE. The edge -? LADY FILSON. Spared you--? [Staring at OTTOLINE.] Ottoline, what on earth - OTTOLINE. [Relaxing.] Oh, I know I'm behaving as if I were a girl instead of a woman who has been married-a widow-free-indeendedent-[o SIR RANDLE] thanks to your liberality, Dad! But, being at home, I seem to have lost, in a measure, my sense of personal liberty - SIR RANDLE. [Blandly but uneasily.] My child! OTTOLINE. That's it! Child! Now that I've returned to you, I'm still a child-still an object for you to fix your hopes and expectations upon. The situation has slipped back, in your minds, pretty much to what it was in the old days in the Avenue Montaigne. You may protest that it isn't so, but it is. [Attempting a laugh.] That's why my knees are shaking at this moment, and my spine's all of a jelly! [She rises and goes to the chair at the writing-table and grips the chair-rail. The others follow her afpprehensively with their eyes.] I-I'm afraid I'm about to disappoint you. LADY FILSON, H-how? SWEET LA VENDER [HORACE 1talks to MiS,. GIFILrLIAN, [c chvckling at the??. MINNIE. [Quietly to CLEMENT.] Clem, I muse ask your advice about Mr. Bream, directly. CLEMENT. Delighted. [Assisting MINNTE t0 put on her mantle.] Bream, will you drive on with my aunt to the theatre? Minnie and I want to walk up to Brigg's, the florist's by Middle Temple Gate. We'll follow you in a cab. Mits. GILFILLIAN. [7'To herself. They have settled it! [Slhakimg her fan att CLEMENT] Ah-h-h! you sly boy. [GoodhunmtOredl/ taking IIORACE'S ar.1 We're encumbrances. Come along, Mr. -liream! IIORAC'E. Ruifully to himself.] 1amn! Life takePs Mns. GILFILJIANOs out, lear2ng the door open. CLEMENT. Good-night, Dick. [JlI'trninily.] Word of honour, as usual! I-]CK. [To CLEMENT, Iitdily.] Word of honour, as usual, Clement, my boy. 86 THE BIG DRUM LADY FILSON. [Dully.] Isn't he the journalist man you-you carried on with once, in Paris? OTTOLINE. What an expression, mother! Well-yes. SIR RANDLE. [Simply.] Good God! OTTOLINE. He doesn't write for the papers any longer. LADY FILSON. W-what OTTOLINE. A novelist chiefly. LADY FILSON. [Faintly.] Oh! SIR RANDLE. Successful? OTTOLINE. It depends on what you call success. SIR RANDLE. Icall success what everybody calls success. BERTRAM. [Risinj, stricken.] There are novelists and novelists, I mean t say. SWEET LA VENDER S7 BITLGER. You andl me has knowVn M1rs. lolt the same len'th o' time, lr. Phlinyl. What of her? BULGER. There's no need for secrecy no longer, sir. I 'ave regarded Mrs. Riolt very deeply for years, sir. DicK. Builger! BULCER. Ridickleous it seems, most likely-I don't deny it. DICK. Of course its ridiculous. 13 ULCG ER. [Angrili,.] I tell you I don't ldeny it, sir! But it's 'ard to keep our place in this world when the place is a mean small one, and I 'ave so far forgot myself concerning Ruth Rolt as to drop into poetry. [le pro(iuces a folded paper from Iis hat. DICK Shrinks aw ay. DICK. No! B3ULGER. Don't fear, sir. But this ev'ning while 'anging about the railin's downnstairs-mrore like a thief than an old-established hairdresser-'oping for a chance to 88 tHE BIG DRBUM SIR RANDLE. [Raising his hands.] Romance! LADY FILSON. [To SIR RANDLE and BERTRAM.] Just now she was resenting our considering her a child I OTTOLINE. [Looking down upon the flowers in the grate.] Romance doesn't belong to youth, mother. Youth is greedy for reality-the toy that feels solid in its fingers. Iwas, and bruised myself with it. After such a lesson as I've had, one yearns for something less tangible-something that lifts one morally out of oneself-an ideal---- SIR RANDLE. Ha! An extract from a novel of Mr. Mackworth's apparently! LADY FILSON. [Harshly.] Ha, ha, ha, ha.-! OTTOIINE. [Turning sharply and coming forward.] Sssh! Don't you sneer, mother! Don't you sneer, Dad! [Her eyes flashing.] C'est au-dessus de vous de sentir ce qu'ily a d'lleve et de grand! [Fiercely.] Tenez! Qu' il vous p/laise ou non - / [She is checked by the entrance of UNDERWOOD from the hall. UNDERWOOD. [Addressing the back of LADY FILSON'S head.] Mr. Philip Mackworth, m'lady. LADY FILSON. [Straightening herself.] Not for me. [Firmly.] For Madame de Chaumi6. 1 SWEET LAFVENDER?8 So -BULGER qloes i9itO, ii 1)IC '5 lwdoaw.. T h O curtain is then pus/hed aside, and RUTH, in Oitgoing1 attire, look's in. 11 UTIIf M~r. Phienyl! DICK. [With, assumed lightness.] Ah, RIuthi R1UT11. I've seen Mr. Hale go out with hiis fr-iends; is there any chance of his returning till late? DICK. They're off to the play. lIeT won't 1)0 back till past. What's this? What's this? RUTh. [Oatside, callingq softly.] Lavender! Lavender! DicK.i Lavender! [RuTh1 jwsles aside the ci'rtain awli enters with LAVENDER, whlo, is also dressed for qloiog ou1t, wchile her face is pale, her eyes red with?i'eebing.] Why, Lavvy! 90 THE BIG DRUM BERTRAM. [7tumping up as the door shuts-in an expostulatory tone.] Good heavens! My dear father-my dear mother -! SIR RANDLE. [Coming to earth.] Eh? BERTRAM. [Agitatedly.] My sister will pack her trunks and be off to an hotel if you're not careful. She won't stand this, I mean t'say. There'll be a marriage at the registrar's, or some ghastly proceeding-a scandal-all kinds of gossip -! LADY FILSON. [ Throwing down her ien and rising-holding her heart.] OhBERTRAM. [ With energy.] I mean to say -! SIR RANDLE. [ To LADY FILSON, blankly.] Winnie ---? LADY FILSON. R-Randle -? SIR RANDLE. [Biting his nails.] He's right. [BERTRAM hastens to the glazed door.] Dear Bertram is right. BERTRAM. [Opening the door.] You'll see him -? LADY FILSON. Y-yes. SWEET LA 'ENI)I DER 9T I UTHT. IMrI1. I tale! Why did he ever couie lhere tIo 1 illg this sorrow o1 nie--to 1(rob me of Iny little Igil's lo]('',? What is Mr. hale to me? I was rich before lie came, because of her. My poolr rooms were w.arni and well-furnished-all becavuse of her. Yesterday any grand lady might have envied me-because of her. [Indignantly.] Mrl. I lale, indeed! LAVENDER. Mother! I'm doing what you ask me, without complaining. But don't-doln't speak a gainst Mr. Hale any more. DICK. [Fiercely.] Speak against Mr. HIale! Who dloes? Ruth, who's at the bottom of this? I'll kMow-I'll know, before I let this boy's heart be broken as well as Lavvy's! [LAVENDER qoes to DICK and 1la/s ier herad 7upon his slhotldler, sobbinl. LAVENDER. Oh, Mr. Phenyl! Will it break his heart? Will it-will it? RUTI. [To DICK, (1espairinglyi.] You'll undo all I've dlone. Don't! don't! DICK Ints LAVENDER firoM, 1dml f/fl tly. S/if goes a(Od sits i'ee)in/ on Me 1/indof i seat. DICK. Now, look here, Ruth Rolt! 92 THE BIG DRUM LADY FILSON. [Over her shoulder.] What is it? I can't bear much more - SIR RANDLE. He isn't even in Who's Who, Winnie! [BERTRAM returns, out of bralth. BERTRAM. I caught her on the stairs. [Closing the door.] She'll bring him down. LADY FILSON. [Weakly.] I won't be civil to him. I refuse to be civil to him. SIR RANDLE. [Replacing the book in the rack and sitting in the chair at the oblong table-groaning again.] Oh! [There is a short silence. BERTRAM slowly advances. BERTRAM. [Heavily, drawing his hand across his brow.] Of course, my dear father-my dear mother-we must do our utmost to quash it-strain every nerve, I mean t'say, to stop my sister from committing this stupendous act of folly. LADY FILSON. [Rocking herself to andfro.] Oh! Oh I SIR RANDLE. A beggarly author! BERTRAM. [7he picture of dejection.] But if the worst comes to the worst-if she's obdurate, I mean t'say-an alliance SWEET LA V'ENDER 9 91 for her minother. I've no right to it, but it has malde my life endurable, even happy, and-i-nagiune N-what it would be for me to lose it now [DJcK 40(8hos ot his hald, she t8arnts and takes it DICK. [Falteringly.] Ruth, did I speak crossly to you? Ruth, did I? I-I'm sorry; Lord forgive me-what a trouble and a worry I've been to you these fifteen years! [IUTrL leans upon the armchair, weepbiny. LAVENDER comies to DICi. LAVENDER. [Faintly.] Mother, minay I sit with Mr. Phenyl, if he'll let me, till it's time for us to start? DICK. [Patting her head.] Of course, Lavvy-of course. Rum.r RUTH. [In a cwhisper to DICK.] Oh, tell her that what I do is right. I know she'll never love m1c a4ain as she has loved me; but be my friend and defend me, Mr. Phenyl. [To LAVENDER, a8 she is going tozowards the door.] In ten minutes, Lavender. LAVENDE 1)t. Yes, mother'. D)ICK. [FJollowilly Rurn.] You won't confide illn ie where you're going, Ruth? 94 THE BIG DB UM SIR RANDLE.,' -Mr. Philip Mackworth, the well-known novelist, to Ottoline, widow of the late Comte de Chaumid[peepfing into the hall l/trough the side of one of the curtains of the glazed door--his voice dying to a mutter] only daughter of Sir Randle and Lady Filson ---" LADY FILSON. " Mrs.-Philip-Mackworth"! Ha, ha, ha! Mrs. Philip Nobody! BERTRAM. [7oining her.] Perhaps it would be wiser, mother, for me to retire while the interview takes place. LADY FILSON. [Falling ufon his neck.] Oh, my dear boy - I SIR RANDLE. [Getting away from the door.] They're coming! BERTRAM. [Quickly.] I'm near you if you want me, I mean t'say - [He goes ou at the door on the left. LADY FILSON hastily resumes her seat at the writing-table, and Siit RA N DLE, fulling himself together, crosses to the fireplace. 7he glazed door opens and OTTOLINE apppears with PHILIP. OTTOLINE. [Quietly.] Mr. Mackworth, mother-Dad---- PHILIP. [Advancing to LADY FILSON cordially.] How do you do, Lady Filson? SWEET LA VENDER 95 DICK. [Distressed.] Lavvy, you do ask such (juestions! LAVENDER. You know himi very well; perhaps he's talked to you a little about me. I'll believe you if you tell ine I'm not fit for him. Is it true, 1Mr. Plihenyl, is it true? [She breaks down, and sinkinf/ on he, knIees, bows her bead on the arm (!f the chair, and sobs. D)ICK. [Hesitatingly.] Lavvy-ILAVENDER. [Crying.] 011, it's not true, is it? DICK. [IJith an effort.] Yes, Lavvy, it's true. LAVENDER. [Faintly.] Oh! DICK. It's the way of the world for poverty to iiake us sour and unjust; and if Clenm canme to grief hlie might lay it at the door of the little doll's house which contained the little doll he'd mnarriied. LA VENDE It. [ Rising, and drawing back.] 01h, I don't belieie that of Clem. 96 THE BIG DRUM Ottoline gives you and Lady Filson unmixed pleasure. On the contrary - LADY FILSON. [Gulfing.] Pleasure! [Unable to refpress herself.] Unmixed-! Ho, ho, ho, ho-! SIR RANDLE. [Restraining her.] Winifred---- OTTOLINE. [Coming to LADY FILSON and touching hergently-in a low voice.] Mother -! PHILIP. [Smiling at OTTOLINE afiologetically.] It's my fault; I provoked that. [Walking away to the right.] I expressed myself rather clumsily, I'm afraid. SIR RANDLE. [Exrfanding his chest and advancing to PHILIP.] I gather from my daughter, Mr. Mackworth, that you are here for the purpose of 1 explaining your position " in relation to her. I believe I quote her words accurately - OTTOLINE. [Moving to the freflace.] Yes, Dad. PHILIP. That is so, Sir Randle-if you and Lady Filson will have the patience - [SIR RANDLE motions PHILIP to the settee on the right. PHILIP sits. Then OTTOLINE sits on tke settee before the fireplace, and SIR RANDLE in the armchair by PHILIP. LADY FI.SON turns in her chair to listen, I SWEET LA VENDER 97 [She sobs. D)IcK hears her and startr, puttiu his fingers in his ears. DICK. [Helplessly.] Why did I promise to help Ruth? LA EN\1)Et. 1Oh, Clement, Clement! I)ICK. [To himsef/j] Poor (Clemn! I shall never he able to look him in the face again. T-I [ie works his mouth as iff/is tonfpfoe were dry, then dlesperatelg looks into the teapot. LAVENDER. [Writing.] " It's for your goo(- T-'m goin g away." [J ith another soh.] Ah [Shutting the lid of the te(pot.] Empty. [lie starts?up, looks round quickly, then floes to the sideboard, stooping down and openinq the culphoard(, w1hile he glanices orer hi.q shodier a(t LAVIENDER. LAVENDEI'. [Restinq her head upon the tahle.] Oh, 1 cain't I can't. [I t)i takes a dlecanter o? w//hiskiey and the carafe and tunmlebr from thle sidelboard and brings them to the table. 98 THE BIG DRUM SIR RANDLE. [Conscientiously.] They are-I won't exaggerate-I mustn't exaggerate-they are not far removed from dismay. LADY FILSON. Utter dismay. SIR RANDLE. [Shifting his chair-to PHILIP.] I learn-I learn from Ottoline that you have forsaken the field of journalism, Mr. Mackworth, and now devote yourself exclusively to creative work? [Another nod from PHILIP.] But you have not-to use my daughter's phrase-up to the present -er - PHILIP. [Nursing his leg.] Please go on. SIR RANDLE. You have not been eminently successful? PHILIP. Not yet. Not with the wide public. No; not yet. SIR RANDLE. Forgive me-any private resources? PHILIP. None worth mentioning. Two-hundred-a-year, left me by an old aunt. LADY FILSON. [Under her breath.] Ho ----! SIR RANDLE. [To her.] My dear-! [To PHILIP.] On the other hand, Mr. Mackworth, as you are probably aware, my SWEET LA VE.VDER 9 99 DIcK. [Closing the (loo1.] MRI. Alaw, I think? MAw. Yes. I am very late in leaving my office to-night, and seeing your light in your window [Staring at DICK.] I hope you're well? DicK. [Drawing imnself u9) with (i/nlitf.] Qui' well, than'g you. Take a chair. MAW. [Sitting- to himself.] This man is in his usual condition, I'm afraid. DICK. [Dravwingi the right sidle of the large curtain to meet the left sidle, completely hiding the frfther room fromn view.] Excuse me, Lavvy-two minutes-two minutes. [IHe walks with rather uncertain steps to a chair and sits, mn ixrinqU so80Me. wiskey and water. MAW. [Taking somne papers from 1i is pocket-eyoeing I) c K.] Well, well, perhaps it's better! I ri'eally pity him. DICK. [Drinking.] Broken nmy word to Ruthi. MANw'. [ Velectini /rii his pafcr. a leer, wvith a dlei) mourning border.] Ali. Phenyl. too THE BIG DRUM OTTOLINE. [Rising.] Mother --! PHILIP. [To SIR RANDLE, calmly.] Oh, but-ah, Ottoline hasn't told you -! OTTOLINE. [To PHILIP.] No, I hadn't time, PhilipPHILIP. My dear Sir Randle-[rising and going to LADY FILsoN]-my dear Lady Filson-let me dispel your anxiety for the preservation of my self-esteem. Ottoline and I have no idea of getting married yet awhile. OTTOLINE. No, mother. LADY FILSON. When, pray --? PHILIP. We have agreed to wait until I have ceased to becommercially-a failure. OTTOLINE. [To SIR RANDLE and LADY FILSON.] Until he has obtained public recognition; fcomingforward] until, in fact, even the members of one s own family, Dad, can't impute unworthy motives. SIR RANDLE. [To PHILIP, incredulously-rising.] Until you have obtained public recognition, Mr. Mackworth? PHILIP. [Smiling.] Well, it may sound extravagant - SWEET LA I'FENDER 1o0 MAW. [Shiortlq.] WVhatever lack of toleration your uncle displayed towards you, Mr. IPhenyl, lie ne(rlected to destroy a will made yearis ago entirely in your favour..111. c ]. [Risiny?tlsteadil/.] My fav'ah! Will in-my favah! y! MALw. [RIaisiny his hand.] Pat, Mr. Phenyl --_ [) Ic i. [LtvayinU to and fro orer M1w.] BIut! Oh, I p'ceive. My poor uncle iresembled his pooir nephewnever thought of the rainiy (lay when he'd want a pound or two to die with. Ml A W. I beg your pardon. I have a schedule here of bonds and other easily negotiable securities, deposited with his bankers, of the value of twenty-five thousand pounds. [ With his land to Iis /ead.] Waio! Wai'! Twon'yfive tlhousam' Beyond lthat I tirace a4'h1 litiei fteei thlbis.uIIl entrusted to those hankers for investment at their discretion. [ DIic' falls into lis chair and UIld at his drink. 102 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. Oh, I've been at it for nearly ten years. LADY FILSON. Ten years! PHILIP. [To SIR RANDLE.] I began soon after I left Paris. SIR RANDLE. And what ground, sir, have you for anticipating that you will ever achieve popularity as a writer? LADY FILSON. [Siltting in the chair by the round table.] Preposterous! OTTOLINE. Stampimng herfoot.] Mother -! [ T SIR RANDLE. Philip has high expectations of his next novel, Dad. It is to be published in the autumn-September. SIR RANDLE. [To PHILIP.] And should that prove no more successful with the "wide public" than those which have preceded it -? PHILIP. Then I-then I fling another at 'em. SIR RANDLE. Which would occupy you -? PHILIP. Twelve months. LADY FILSON. And if that fails ----! SWEET LA 'ENDER 0 1031 gram and looking through it as if it were a banknote.] Largest bank-note I've ever had in my life. [ Stickinq the telegram in his waistcoat pocket, DICK stlaggers across the room as the door opens and CLEMENT enters with DICK's note in his hand.] CLEMENT. [Breathlessly.] Dick! DICK. Clemen', my boy! [CLEMENT comes upon DICK iwho is silling helplessly on the arm of the chair. CLEMENT. [Starting back.] Dick! You've been-drinking! DICK. No. [Pointing to MAW.] My s'litor, Mr. Mlaw. MAW. [Brusquely.] Mr. Phenyl is'nt very well, I'm afraid. I)ICiK. [To MAw.] The spirits are with you, Mr. Maw. MAW. I'll see Mr. Plihenyl in the morniincg. [AMAW qoes out andL shids Mt/ dloOr. 104 THE BIG DRUM sha'n't be scowled at when he presents himself in Ennismore Gardens. [Seating herself beside SIR RANDLE and slitging her arm through his.] Dad-! LADY FILSON. [To PHILIP.] Mr. Mackworth--! PHILIP. [Rousing himself and turning to SIR RANDLE and LADY FILsoN-abruptly.] Look here, Sir Randle! Look here, Lady Filson! I own that this arrangement between Ottoline and me is an odd one. It was arrived at yesterday impulsively; and, in her interests, there is a good deal to be said against it. LADY FILSON. There's nothing to be said for it. Oh-! SIR RANDLE. [To LADY FILSON.] Winifred-- [To PHILIP.] Well, Mr. Mackworth? PHILIP. Well, Sir Randle, l-I'm prepared to take a sporting chance. It may be that I am misled by the sanguine temperament of the artist, who is apt to believe that his latest production will shake the earth to its foundation. I've gammoned myself before into such a belief, but[resolutely] I'll stake everything on my next book! I give you my word that if it isn't a success-an indisputable popular success-I will join you both, in all sincerity, in urging Ottoline to break with me. Come! Does that mollify you? [There is a short silence. SIR RANDLE and LADY FILSON look at each other in surprise and OTTOLINE stares at PHILIP open-mouthed. SWEET LA FENDER 105 won't you? It's Ruth who'll never forgive ile. i'11 hide from Ruth! I can't face Ruth! [Thkinf ep the decanter and tumbler and crossing to the door of his bedroom.] The las' timnle, Clemen', my boy---the las' time! [lie stmuubles out, as CLEMENT comcies t1trovy the c1rlta-is su/)ortinU LAVENDER. 1/e places her gently upon the sofa. CLEMENT. [In a whisper.] D)ick-I didn't mean what I said. II LA VEND.E It. [Opening her eyes.] Clement! CLEMENT, [Bending over her.] Lavender LAVENDER. IThe letter--the letter I was wvritinig to you Fetch it. CLEMENT. The letter! [lfe disappears thgrough the curtain. LAVENDER. He inusi't finl ollut to-nihlit that motlier is taking me away CLEMENT Ye-OCIters with tile lettr. C LEM EN T. Won't you give it to ine? 106 THE BIG DRUM LADY FILSON. [Stily.] Ottoline is her own mistress, Mr. Mackworth; [more amiably] but apart from her, you will receive a card from me-music-Tuesday, July the eighth. [He bows and she crosses to the fireplace. 7hen he shakes hands with SIR RANDLE, who has risen and is standing in the middle of the room. PHILIP. [To SIR RANDLE.] Good-bye. SIR RANDLE. [Delaining PHILIP, searchingly.] Er-pardon me-this new novel of yours, on which you place so much reliance -pray don't think me curiousOTTOLINE. [Suddenly.] Ha! [Coming to the back of the settee on the right, her eyes gleaming scornfully at SIR RANDLE.] Tell my father, Philip-tell him - PHILIP. [Shaking his head at her and frowning.] Otto - OTTOLINE. Do; as you told it to me yesterday. [Satirically.] It will help him to understand why your name has escaped him in the great journals! SIR RANDLE. Any confidence you may repose in me, Mr. Mackworth SWEET LA VENDER 107 CLEMENT. [Startled.] Lavender! IJAVENDER. [UThder her breath, clasping her hands.] Mother don't take me away! I)on't, dlon't take mei away! CLEMENT. Lavender! You're angry with me. LAVENDER. [PointinU to the clock.] No; but I'd forgottenMother is waiting for me. Good-night, Clement. CLEMENT. Ah, no-not yet. LAVENDER. I must- -I--I promised. And, Clement, you hace been very troubled about me, the few houirs we've been separated, haven't you? CLEMENT. Troubled! If you only knew! LAVENDER. Well, tllhenll, ldear, I want you to relmemnber, if ever we're partedl agrain CLE L IM INTI. No - not acgain, Lavender. 108 THE BIG DRUM an arena for the exhibition of vulgar ostentation or almost superhuman egoism-a cockpit resounding with raucous voices bellowing one against the other! SIR RANDLE. [Closing his eyes.] A terrible picture! LADY FILSON. [Closing her eyes.] Terrible. PHILIP. It shows the bishop and the judge playing to the gallery, the politician adopting the methods of the cheap-jack, the duchess vying with the puffing draper; it shows how even true genius submits itself to conditions that are accepted and excused as " modern," and is found elbowing and pushing in the hurly-burly. It shows how the ordinary decencies of life are sacrificed to the paragraphist, the interviewer, and the ghoul with the camera; how the home is stripped of its sanctity, blessed charity made a vehicle for display, the very graveyard transformed into a parade ground; while the outsider looks on with a sinking of the vitals because the drumstick is beyond his reach and the bom-bom-bom is not for him / It shows -! [Checking himself and leaving the armchair with a short laugh.] Oh, well, that's the setting of my story, Sir Randle! I won't inflict the details upon you. SIR RANDLE. Er-h'm-[expansively] an excellent theme, Mr. Mackworth; a most promising theme! [To LADY FILSON.] Eh, Winifred? LADY FILSON. [Politely.] Excellent; quite, quite excellent! SWTEET L, VLINDER 100 [Seizing her opportunity, with a last look at CLEMENT, she goes soltfly up 1to lie oniter door. As slhe reaches it there is a lond rat-tat-tat, ((Old, writh a cro7, /ei cow2es lback into the room. LA VENDER. Clement! CLEMENT. [Turninq.] IHullo! A calleir for 1)ick, I pct(l. Whoever it is, he doesn't coll iil. [iHe goes up to the outer doo100r' and oprs it. Mr. GxEOFFREY \WEDDERIURNN iR 07(1Si(P. XVEDDERBURN. [Ifeartily.] Clement, my dlear lad CLEMENT. Father! [Wlith a low cry, LAVENDER disappears through the crtain, as WEI)DERHURN enters, whileP CLEMENT, haring closed the door, looks arond *for her. GEOFFREY WEDDEII I IT RN is a hIandsomI, e, well-preserred aiia (q/ ahnwt jfrty, with a radd face, a bright cheerq roice with a slight burr in it, and the ((ir and nmamier of a prosp'0 er5s)C'' C t f/it! inatl iai. ie is dressed in treeds (5and an ulsterp, a(is 'f from (i j e ie /iitl' /throv his /iit mid, gloIes upon the sola, then turlns t)o CLEMENT Kit 1e01 Ope armW8s. i1o THE BIG DRUM SIR RANDLE. A grossly offensive book! LADY FILSON. [Anxiously.] He-he'll keep his word -? SIR RANDLE. To join us in persuading her to drop him - LADY FILSON. If it fails? SIR RANDLE. [With conviction.] Yes. [Walking about.] Yes. We must be just. We owe it to ourselves to be just to Mr. Mackworth. He is not altogether devoid of gentlemanlike scruples. LADY FILSON. [Breathlessly.] And-and she-? SIR RANDLE. I trust-I trust that my child's monstrous infatuation will have cooled down by the autumn. LADY FILSON. [Sufporting herself by the chair at the writing-table, her hand to her heart-exhausted.] Oh! Oh, dear! SIR RANDLE. [Returning to her.] I conducted the affair with skill and tact, Winifred? LADY FILSON. SRallying.] It was masterly-[kissing him] masterly --- 1 SWEET LA VENDER 111 CLEM ENT. And you're 11Iot a111gry, f;ather? VEDDERuII tRN. Angry. Now, lhave I ever l)eeVi angry with you, my boy? CLEM EXT. No, dad-never. XEDDo It I iI ItIN. No, anld Il p)l1gue of a chill yo)l'v(' beefl, too. CLEMENT. [Laughing.] Ha, ha! WEDDERBURN. [Taking CLEMENT'S haml and lookinyg ilo his Iace.] But the only time you really hurt me, Clem, wNas when you had the fever years ago, and I sat by y-our bedside through some dreadfu Il nights and-you didn't know me wvien I spoke to you. Ah, Clem! CLEM ENT. [Putting his Iand on 01 WED)DERBU RN'S shoaltder.] All, dad! 1XEDDERIU tN. However, confound tha.t! [Velectinf, a teleyram from aiongn his letters anid looking at it thromq// (t U/1(drimmed eye-glass.] And so she's the dlaughliter of the laundress of these new chIam)ers of yours, is she, Clement? THE THIRD ACT The scene represents two rooms, connected by a pair of wide doors, in a set of residential chambers on the upper floor of a house in Gray's Inn. The further room is the dining-room, the nearer room a study. In the wall at the back of the dining-room are two windows; in the right-hand wall is a door leading to the kitchen; and in the left-hand wall a door opens from a vestibule, where, opposite this door, there is another door which gives on to the landing of the common stair. In the study, a door in the right-hand wall admits to a bedroom; in the wall facing the spectator is a door opening into the room from the vestibule; and beyond the door on the right, in a piece of wall cutting of the corner of the room, is the fireplace. A bright fire is burning. The rooms are wainscotted to the ceilings and have a decrepit, old-world air, and the odds and ends of furniture-all characteristic of the dwelling of a poor literary man of refined taste-are in keeping with the surroundings. In the dining-room there are half-a-dozen chairs of various patterns, a sideboard or two, a corner-cupboard, a grandfather " clock, and a large round table. In the study, set out into the room at the same angle as the fireplace, is a writing-table. A chair stands at the writing-table, its back to the fire, and in the front of the table is a well-worn settee. On the left of the settee 112 i SWEET LA VENDER 113 into a portmanteau, and come back with me to the hotel to-night. [Takimn up his hat and coat. CLEMENT. Dad! You-you don't understand. I can never leave here until-FIatler, Lavender is to be mny wife! [WEDDERBURN stands for a moment thofghtfully, then throws down his hat and coat and crosses to the fireplace, taking a cigar roin his ciyar-case, while CLEMENT wcatches him. WEDDERBURN. Clement, my dear boy, my son, when I was a young man-old enough to know better, but a young man-I fell in love with a woman just as enchanting, I dare swear, as this Miss-Lavender, as you call her. CLEMENT. Well, father? WEDDERBURN. She was a woman in humble life but I loved her -dearly. But just as I was on the point of marrying her, Clem, my hard, old-fashioned common-sense pulled me back. CLEMENT. Ah, sir!-why? WEDDERBURN. Why? Why, my lady would have been all elbows, as we say, among the starched gentlefolks of Barnchester. Sle would have been mercilessly cut by the whole county, Clement. H 114 THE BIG DB UM [PHILIP, a pipe in his mouth and wearing an old velvet jacket, is lying upon the settee on the right, reading a book by the light of the lamp on the writing-table. In the dining-room, JOHN and a waiter-the latter in his shirt-sleeves-are at the round table, unfolding a white table-cloth. JOHN. [A cheery little man in seedy clothes-to the waiter, softly.] Careful! Don't crease it. PHILIP. [Raising his eyes from his book.] What's the time, John? JOHN. Quarter-to-six, sir. PHILIP. Have my things come from the tailor's yet? JOHN. [Laying the cloth with the aid of the waiter.] Yes, sir; while you were dozing. [Ecstatically.] They're lovely, sir. [A bell rings in the vestibule.] Expect that's the cook, sir. [He bustles into the vestibule from the diningroom. There is a short pause and then he reappears, entering the study at the door openingfrom the vestibule, followed by ROOPE.] It's Mr. Roope, sir! PHILIP. No! [Throwing his book aside andjumping up.] Why, Robbie 1 1 SWIEET LA FENDER 115 CLEMENT. God bless you for all your goodness to me, sir; but she is to be my wife. DICK. [Calling Jfrom his room.] Clenien', my boy! Clemen'! WEDDERBJURN. What's that? CLEM ENT. ['oing towarlds the (loor 2f I)Dic's room1.] H ush, D)ick! 'The dloor opens, and DICK staggers oH, Jiourishing the telegram which MAW has gizvenl him. )ICK. Clemen'! Look here! Trhis telegram to imy s'licitor! Look! CLEMENT. [Trying to silence him.] Be quiet, Dick! Mr. Wedderburn! DICK. Wedderburn! WEDDERBURN. May I ask the name of your friend? CLEMENT. Richard Phenyl. We share these roomis together. WEDDEIRIURN., [Angrily, to DICK.1 Then, sir, I congratulate you on acquiring the undivided compIanionslip of Mr. 116 THE BIG DR UM PHILIP. [ Walking about and spouting, in high spirits.] 01 Italia I O Italia I thou who hast the fatal gift of beauty -! " ROOPE. Sir Loftus and Lady Glazebrook were moving on to Rome, or I really believe I could have endured another month at their villa, bores as they are, dear kind souls! [Looking towards the dining-room, where JOHN and the waiter are now placing a handsome centre-piece (f flowers upon the round table.] Hallo! A dinner-party, Phil? PHILIP. Dinner-party? A banquet! RooPE. To celebrate the success of the book? PHILIP. That and something more. This festival, sir, of the preparations for which you are a privileged spectator[shouting to JOHN] shut those doors, John-- JOHN. Yessir. PHILIP. [Sitting in the chair on the left of the smoking-table as JOHN closes the big doors.] This festival, my dear Robbie -[glancing over his shoulder to assure himself that the doors are closed] this festival also celebrates my formal engagement to Madame de Chaumid. RooPE. [ Triumpkhantly.] Aha! SWI'EET LA FENDERk I V/ [DICK opens the door and 0 adnlits MI1s1. C ILFILLIAN, MINNIE, a1nd 11ORACE. 7/The two120 former, seei!! WEDDERBURNI, o to him, while ILORACE s8peaks 9apidýl to CLEMENT. DICKl, leavbtim the lOr opoen, johis theni. MRS. GILFILLIAN. Geoffrey! MINNIE. Uncle! Uncle! [l utting her arm. ro'nd his neipck.] There's some dreadful news in the paper'--a:ouiit the bank, Uncle Geoffirey. WEDDERBURN. The paper-send for it; let me see it. MIRS. G4r1vILILIAN. Geoffriey, it isni't true. WEDDERBURN. [With an eflbrt.] Show me--the paper. [I/earing a morement, he turns sharply and sees CLEMENT readbi from a newspaper which HORACE holds.] Y1ou have it there-give it mie. [Mnus. (UILFILLIAN sits weepimi on the sofa; MINNIE stla1l05 bendinq over her COnsolinqly. CLEMENT fires WEI)iDERlURN the news8paper. After looking at the paper,/r a IOmelnlt, \EDDERBURN, with a groan, bowrs his head apoil the mantelpiece, In a smothered voice.] The villains!.l)ishonour! Dishonour! RUTII. [Callinq softly ontside.] Lavender! Lavender! [Lho enters 'Iurriedly.] Laveldlelr! [To CLE IMEN T, see * 118 THE BIG DR UM and that I shall wake up to the necessity of counting my pence again and apologizing to John for being in arrear with his wages! ROOPE. And Titterton's letter brought the Filsons round? PHILIP. [Nodding.] Brought 'em round; and I must say they've accomplished the change of attitude most graciously. ROOPE. [Oracularly.] Graciously or grudgingly, they couldn't help themselves, dear excellent friend. As you had pledged yourself in effect to resign the lady if your book was a failure, it follows that they were bound to clasp you to their bosoms if it succeeded. I don't want to detract from the amiability of the Filsons for an instantPHILIP. Anyhow, their opposition is at an end, and all is rosy. [Rising and pacing the room.] Master Bertram is a trifle glum and stand-offish perhaps, but Sir Randle -! Ha, ha, ha! Sir Randle has taken Literature under his wing, Robbie, from Chaucer to Kipling, in the person of his prospective son-in-law. You'd imagine, to listen to him, that to establish ties of relationship with a literary man has been his chief aim in life. ROOPE. [7erking his head in the direction of the dining-room.] And this is to be a family gathering -? PHILIP. The first in the altered circumstances. I proposed a feast at a smart restaurant, but Sir Randle preferred the I THE THIRD ACT The scene is the same as befoore, btt the time is a we'k later. CLEMENT, looking weary amid dmecartedrI, comes froin his bedroom. CLEMENT. [As he closes the door.] Father, I shall l)e with )you in half-an-hour. [lHe takes up his hat, as DICK, improved in appearance, but without his coat, and wearing a housemaid's apron, and carrying a long carpet-broom, a dustpan, and a hand-broom, enters the room from the passale. DICK. Going out, Clement, my boy? CLEMENT. Why, what are you doing, Dick? DICK. I've had a fierce, a terrible, altercation with Mrs. 120 THE BIG DBUM PHILIP. [Coming forward.] As a matter of fact, Robbie, I'm * inclined to agree with you; I've been staring into my fire, or out of my windows here, a jolly sight too much. [Expanding his chest.] It'll be refreshing to me to rub shoulders with people again for a bit-[smiling] even to find myself the object of a little interest and curiosity. ROOPE. [Delighted.] Dear excellent friend! PHILIP. Ha, ha! You see, I'm not without my share of petty vanity. I'm consistent, though. Didn't I tell you in South Audley Street that I was as eager for fame as any man living, if only I could win it in my own way? ROOPE. You did. PHILIP. [Exultingly. Well, I have won it in my own way, haven't I! [Hitting the palm of his hand with hisfist.] I've done what I determined to do, Robbie; what I knew I should do, sooner or later! I've got there-got there!-by simple, honest means! Isn't it glorious? ROOPE. [Cautiously.] I admit - PHILIP. [Breakiing in. Oh. I don't pretend that there haven't been moments in my years of stress and struggle when I've been tempted to join the gaudy, cackling fowl whose fenthers I flatter myself I've plucked pretty thoroughly in my book! But I've resisted the devil S1WRFET 1A VENDER 12T don't wish to put side on over a few paltry foolish kidneys, but- [rwisinq the d4i err ontol' it,(o they havene't looked at 'em. ( LENMENT [Jnspectiny the dish rith I)ic.] I'm V afraid they hare, Dick. [Inlignantly.] Of comuse! Co on Blatme, blame; but praise-ohi dear, no! [Ile takes up the teapot, and begins to sprinkle tehe tea-leares on tihe.l/oor angrily.] If you're going out, I'll not detain you. I am nervous when watchedl. CLEMENT. [Not heeding himnt.] I have to meet Mr. Maw at half-past ten to hear the result of the meeting of the bank creditors at Barnchester yesterday. DICK. Oh! CLEMENT. But the ship's hopelessly aground, Dick, and we shall never get her off again-another bump or two and she breaks up; a few sjpars float out seaward in the shape of 1)oor ruined depositors, and ther1e's an end. And what an end! Driven on to the rocks 1by a couple of rogues while the skipper is asleep below. There's a moral in it all, Dick. [iliklg the tea-e s. he. e is, Clment, my [ S1pr-inkling the tea-leaires.] Thiere is, Clement, my 122 THE BIG DRUM ROOPE. [His hat on his head, drawing on his gloves.] Dear excellent friend/ I should be out of place. PHILIP. Rubbish! Your presence would be peculiarly appropriate, my dear Robbie. Wasn't it you who brought Ottoline and me together, God bless yer! [Observing that ROOPE is weakening.) There's heaps of room for an extra chair. Everybody ud be delighted. ROOPE. [Meditatively.] I could telephone to Hughie excusing myself. He didn't ask me till this afternoon. [With an injured air.] I resent a short notice. PHILIP. [His eyes twinkling.] Quite right. Mine's short tooROOPE. That's different. PHILIP. Entirely. You'll come? ROOPE. If you're certain the Filsons and Madame de Chaumi6 - PHILIP. Certain. [Following ROOPE to the door admitting to the vestibule.] Eight o'clock. ROOPE. [Opefning the door.] Charming. S IEFT LA FEN N1)F P 1 33 A.itltingli.J I flimk tbe news will le a little better tha.Ii1 you ex)ect, ( I i, uiiy m y! jiin,, mith (a f/( steps o/ a (idce.j I l-lidlle diddled tm-di-diddle-da! C(LEM ENT. [Returning.] Oh, Dick! [IDicK checks himself subddenly, and comes (lown, lettiny the tea run omt of tlie spot of the teapot. DIclK. [Enq fuiringly.] Clement, my boy? Oh [PReplacing the tea])ot on the table and taking up the broonm. CLEMENT. [Takinq a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket.] I think you ought to know that I'm going to lefave this at the newspaper office for insertion in to-morrow's paper. [Reading.] " Sweet Lavender." [Nhmowing him the paper.] See D)ick? IThe first and last letters-all the rest stars. DICK. Very ingenious. CLEMENT. [Readinq.] " 1. P." (I've ventilured to use your initials, old fellow.) " I P. entreats his old( friend and her daughter to communicate with him withoiut delay. It. P. is distracted at their absence." 124 THE BIG DRUMO PHILIP. Extremiely civil of him, if that's the case. [Loftily.] I)ccent sort of fellow, I recollect. RooPm. [Going into the vestibule.] Very; very. PHILIP. Poor chap! ROOPE. [OOpening the outer door.] Eight o'clock, dear excellent friend. PHILIP. [At his elbow.] Sharp. RooPEm [Disappearing.] Au revoir! PHILIP. Au revoir! [Calling after ROOPE.] Mind that corner! FClosing- the outer door with a bang and shouting.] John! Comin4'- back into the study.] John! [Closing the vestibule door.] John! [Going to the big doors and opening the one on the left a little way.] John -! [OTTOLINE, richly dressed in furs, steps through the opening and confronts him. Hercheeksare flushed and her manner has lost some of its repose. OTTOLINE. [Shutting the door behind her as s/e enters-fplayfuly.] Qu'est-ce que vous dlsirez.7ohnI PHILIP. [Catching her in his arms.] My dear girl! SWEET LA V`END) 1 125 [Sweepiny willly.] Oh! CLEM1EEN'. My aunt declares it is all Mrs. tolt's doing. [CHtamring the letter to his pocket fiercely.] I hope so, for if I ever find out to the contrary [DICK sweeps up against CLEMENT violently.] Confound you, Dick! What are you doing? DICi. You're hindering me! You've delaying the housework! Go out! CLEMENT. Don't be angry with me. I'm going. [CLEMENT yoes o1t. Diclic. D)CIK. [Wiping his forehead.] Phew! When hlie breaks out like that, I-I always break ouiit like this. If lie only suspected that I assisted at the cramming of the pbilosophy! [Mit. BULUER Comn/eS front CLEMENT'S mo00n carrying sha ring p]rajphernalia. BULGER. [1'ery dejectedly.] Good morning, 1\Mr. Phenyl. I rather fancy as Mr. Wedderburn is a trifle better this morning. He dlemandlcdl to be shaved?11, sir-always a sign of vitality in a gentleman. [lHe goes to the doo(100r' of Dick's bedroom, andl has h1is Ih(d oil the bhandle, when I)ICK starts?up with a cry of horror. 126 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. [Still/gazing at the scarf-pin.] To-morrow I'll buy the most beautiful silk scarf ever weaved. OTTOLINE. Phil, I've a feeling that it's from to-night, when I sit at your table-how sweet your flowers are; I couldn't help noticing them!-I've a feeling that it's from to-night that we really belong to each other. PHILIP. [Pressing her closer to him.] Ah --- OTTOLINE. [ With a shiver, closing her eyes.] What has gone before has been hateful-hateful! PHILIP. [Looking down upon her fondly.] Hateful? OTTOLINE. Until-until your book commenced to sell, at any rate. Suspense-a horrid sensation of uneasiness, mistrust-the fear that, through your foolish, hasty promise to mother and Dad, you might, after all, unite with them to cheat me out of my happiness! That's what it has been to me, Philip. PHILIP. [Rallying her, but a little guillily.] Ha, ha, ha! You goose! I knew exactly how events would shape, Otto; hadn't a doubt on the subject. [Shutting the jewel-case with a snap and aflourish.] I knew - OTTOLINE. [Releasing herself.] Ah, yes, I dare say I've been dreadfully stupid. [Shaking herself, as if to rid herselfof SIVWEET LA VENDER 1 127 DR. DELANEY. Lls hIe enters.] Thank ye, thank ye. [Shaking hands with PIcK.] It's Mr. Plhenyl. And how's our friend Wedderburn this delightful morning? DiIcli. Uln-pretty well for a man who appears to gtrowv a year older every (lay. Dit. DELANEY. You dlon't siy that? I )I c 1(. I do. It seems to me, Dr. 1 )elaney, that your.patient is arcing on the tobogganiiug 1)rincile. D)n. DI)ELANEY. [ZI'/wougtfudl.] Ah-um! DIcK. [Ent hutsiastically.] But the ladies, doctor They come out gloriously. DR. DELANEY. Bless 'em, they always do. DICK. I wouldn't have believed it of aunt-Mrs (Gilfiflian. But she seems to hiave boJught the goodwill and fixtures of the business formverly carried on by Miss Nightingale. 'DR. IDELANEN. My dear Mr. Phenyl, all ladies are aloike when 128 THE BIG DBUM vagabond feet and sunshine to heal our sore bodies! [She raises her head and rummagesfor her handkerchief.] tto-! OTTOLINE. Yes? PHILIP. In April-eh -? OTTOLINE. [Drying her eyes.] April-? PHILIP. You haven't forgotten tie compact we entered into at Robbie Roope's? OTTOLINE. [Brightening.] Ah, no! PHILIP. In April we walk under the chestnut-trees once more in the Champs-Elysees--! OTTOLINE. [Smiling through her tears.] And the Allee de Longchamp -! PHILIP. As husband and wife-we shall be an old married couple by then --! OTTOLINE. [Pulling on her glove.] And drink milk at the d'Armenonville -! PHILIP. And the Pre-Catelan -! SWEET L i T'ENDER 129 IC)K. Exercise! [R emoviing his coat, thenl seizinf/ his broom and sweeping violently.] Exercise! [ Tiping his brow ayin.] Phew! This is i;rather dii aII(d (lusty for my coil)plain t. [Mrcrping,.] 8u11t it's exercise. [MINNIE, simply dressed mld woearing a pretty whitie apron, comes fjrom Dick's room. MINNIE. Oh, Mr. Phenyl, what are you doing? DICK. [Panting.] Making up Doctor Delaney's prescription. Please return to your room for a quarter of an hour, Miss Gilfillian. MINNIE. [Retreating.] Oh, the dust! [Taking vp the handbroom and dustpan from the sofa.] And look here! [DICK sweeps again. MIRns. GILFILLIAN, plainly dressed anl without her curls, comves from CLEMENTS 00room. Mus. GILFILLIAN. Mercy on us! What's this? [She throws open the window. 1\IINNIE. [Laughing.] Mr. Phenyl is sweeping, mamma. MRS. GILFILLIAN. Sweeping! Where's that woman McOstr>.h? 130 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. [After a fause.] Fancy! OTTOLINE. [Faintly.] Fancy! [He is drawing her to him slowly when, uttering a low cry, she embraces him wildly and passionately.] Oh! [Clinging to him.] Oh, Phil! Ohoh-oh -! PHILIP. [Responding to her embrace.] Otto-Otto -- OTTOLINE. [Breakingfrom him.] Oh -! [She hurries to the outer door. He follows her quickly, closing the vestibule door after him. Then the outer door is heard to shut, and the curtain falls. After a short interval, the curtain rises again, showing all the doors closed and the study in darkness save for the light of the fire. The bell rings, and again there is an interval; and then the vestibule door is opened by JOHN-attired for waiting at table-and BERTRAM brushes past him and enters. BERTRAM is in evening dress. BERTRAM. [As he enters, brusquely.] Yes, I know I'm a little too soon. I want to speak to Mr. Mackworth-before the others come, I mean t'say - [JOHN switches on the light of a lamp by the vestibule door. It is now seen that BERTRAM is greatly flustered and excited. JOHN. [Taking BERTRAM'S hat, overcoat, etc.] I'll tell Mr. Mackworth, sir. He's dressin'. 1 SWEET LA VENDER ' Ip MRS. GILFILLIAN. Bless the man! Take his broom away, Miiuietake his iwroom:iway! [MIINNIE takes the broomu jfi't 1i1K )wiaol y(8 out with it. AIRS. (JILFILLIAN. I wonder if I can guess what you allude to, Mr. Phenyl. DICK. [Resuming his coat.] Ah'm! i'll allow you threo guesses, ma'am. 1MRS. GILFILLIAN. On the night we heard of our misfoitune we saw you rather-at a disadvantage. DICK. Done, first time. I suppose I presented a shocking spectacle. Mns. GILFILLIAN. H'm! Well, that's a week ago, Mr. Phlienyl. Now, Rome wasn't built in a day, but you can make a new man out of unpromising minaterial in a week-and a new woman too-sometimes. Mr. Phenyl, I'm not the woman I was a week ago-am I? DICK. [Hesitating.] Well--- AtrRSl..]AiILsLIAN. [Sharpcly.] Ani 1, sir? 132 THE BIG DRUM doorway.] Behold! [Closing the door and advancing to BERTRAM.] How are you, Bertram? [BERTRAM refuses PHILIP' S hand by pulting his own behind his back. PunIP raises his eyebrows.] Oh? [A pause.] Anything amiss? [Observing BERTRAM'S heated look.] You don't look well, Filson. BERTRAM. [Breathing heavily.] No, I'm not well-I mean t'say, I'm sick with indignation PHILIP. What about? BERTRAM. You've attempted to play us all a rascally trick, Mackworth; a low, scurvy, contemptiblePHILIP. [Frowning.] A trick? BERTRAM. I've just come from Mr. Dunning-a man I've thought it my duty to employ in the interests of my family-Sillitoe and Dunning, the private-inquiry people - PHILIP. Private-inquiry people? BERTRAM. Dunning rang me up an hour ago, and I went down to him. The discovery wasn't clinched till this afternoon - PHILIP. The discovery? SWEET LA VENDER I333 MRS. GILFILLIAN. [IL a whis8per.] We're not visible, Mr. Plhenyl, to anybody. GoiDICKy.] No, cer.inly ot [Going.] No, certainly niot. IMINNIE. [In a whisper.] We're out, Mr. Dicii. [ Drawing the crl'tain over the rather think you were. Phenyl-shopping. opening.] I should MINNIE. [To DICK.] Hush! [DICK disappear8 behind the curttain and opens the door, while M us. GI4LFILLIAN and MINNIE Mtand listening. DICKi. [At the door.] How d'ye do? How d'ye do? MRS. GILFILLIAN. [To MINNIE, in (a Whisper.] Who is it? DICK. [0(ut of' sight.] No-went out shopping 81bout ten mininutes ago. I NNNIE. [To Mus. GIL'ILLIAN.] I don't know. 134 THE BIG DRUM BERTRAM. [Walking away.] Oh, it's no use, Mackworth-this air of innocence! [Puf/ing himself out and strutting to and fro on the left.] It's simply wasted effort, I mean t'say. In five minutes I can have Dunning here with the whole disreputable story. He's close by-bottom of Chancery Lane. He'll be at his office till half-pasteleven PHILIP. [Between his teeth-thrusting his hands into his trouserpockets.] Very accommodating of him! BERTRAM. I tried to get on to my father from Dunning's-to ask his advice, I mean t'say-but he'd dressed early and gone to one of his clubs, and they couldn't tell me which one. [Halting and looking at his watch.] My suggestion is that you and I should struggle through this farce of a dinner as best we can-as if nothing had happened, I mean t'say-and that I should reserve the disclosure of your caddish conduct till tomorrow. You assent to that course, Mackworth? SDabbing his forehead with his handkerchief.] Thank eaven, the announcement of the engagement hasn't appeared! PHILIP. [In a calm voice.] Bertram-[ iointing to the chair on the left of the smoking-table] Bertie, old man[seating himself easily iupon the settee on the right] you're your sister's brother and I'm not going to lose my temper-- BERTRAM. [Sneeringly.] My dear sir-- SWEET LA VENDER 135 HIORACE. [Vot seeing f MINNIE'S si/gs.] Yes. I invariably call to inquire after Mr. Wedderburn during the afternoon. MINNIE. [Turning away.] Oh! 1HORACE. I shall be here again this afternoon. MARS. GILFILLIAN. I haven't heard of your calling at all! MINNIE. [Confused.] Oh, yes, mamma, Mr. Breamn has made the-usual-inquiries during the week, generaldly while you have been resting. His cards are somewhere. HIORACE. Oil, yes; my cards are somewhere. DR. DELANEY enters. aIRS. GILFILLIAN. [Angrilyl to herself; at HORACE.] Oh, this man! [She goes to DELANEY andul they talk together. MINNIE. [Eyeing HORACE.] Oh! now lie knows that mamma didn't know. [To HORACE Woith dignity.] I hope, Mr. Bream, that you will forgive Mr. Phenyl's lack 136 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. [His hands clenched, but preserving his suavity.] Extremely grateful to you, Bertie. I see! And so, burdened by these suspicions, you carried them to Mr.-Mr. Gunning? BERTRAM. Dunning. I didn't regard it as a job for a respectable solicitor - PHILIP. [Politely.] Didn't you! BERTRAM. Not that there's anything against Dunning-- PHILIP. [Uncrossing his legs and sitting upright.] Well, that brings us to the point, doesn't it? BERTRAM. The point? PHILIP. The precise, and illuminating, details of the fable your friend at the bottom of Chancery Lane is fooling you with. BERTRAM. [In a pitying tone.] Oh, my dear Mackworth! I repeat, it's no use your adopting this attitude. You don't realize how completely you're bowled over, I mean t'say. Dunning's got incontestable proofs - PHILIP. [_umfing up, unable to repress himself any longer.] Damn the impudent scoundrel--! [The bell rings. I SWEET LAV ENDER 137 [MINNIE nods to ID. IDELANEY, nd (8oes to where MRS. GILFILLIAN is 8sittiy, HORACE jbllowing her. Dn. I)ELANEY. [7Tajjpping IcK on the Rhoulder.] Mr. Phenyl. DICK. [Looking up.] E11? DR. DELANEY. [Bending. over him.] I fancy there's something wor6rying Mr. Wedderburn. DICK. Well, I should think so! DR. DELANEY. What is it? DICK. Sixpence in the pound. Da. DELANEY. Alh, I mean something not connected with dividends at all. [Drawing DICK a little nearer.] Mr. Phenyl, I hear that Wedderburn has been rambling a little about the woman who used to live downstairs -talking about her in his sleep. DICK. Ah, I (ldarO say. His boy is ii love with her daughter, and that troubles him. Dit. DELANEY. So Mrs. Gillillian explains. But, Mr. Pheiiyl, dloesn't it strike you as rather odd that Mr. Wedder 138 THE BIG DBUM PHILIP. [Flinging the poker into thee grae and facing BERTRAM.] Confound you, you don't suppose I'm going to act on your suggestion, and grin through a long meal with this between us! [Pointing to the telephone again.] Ring him up, you treacherous little whelp-quick! [Advancing.] If you won't--! BERTRAM. [Bristling.] Oh, very good! [Pausing on his way to the telephone and addressing PHILIP with an evil expression.] You were always a bully and a blusterer, Mackworth; but, take my word for it, if you fancy you can bully Mr. Dunning, and bluster to my family, with any satisfactory results to yourself, you're vastly mistaken. PHILI'. [Gruffly.] I beg your pardon; sorry I exploded. BERTRAM. [Scowling.] It's of no consequence. [At the telephone, his ear to the receiver.] I am absolutely indifferent to your vulgar abuse, I mean t'say. [JOHN announces ROOPE. Note: ROOPE and the rest of the guests divest themselves of their overcoats, wraps, etc., in the vestibule before entering the room. JOHN. Mr. Roope. ROOPE. [Greeting PHILIP as JOHN withdraws.] Am I the first-? PHILIP. [Glancing at BERTRAM.] No. SWEET LA FENDER 039 tory which she confides to another is geinerully the Index. Now may I ask if the Index in your possession goes down to the letter " W "? DICK. [Sinking into the armchair with h8is hand to his forehead.] Wedderburn! Good gracious! The possibility never struck me! Oh! D)R. DELANEY. But you perceive the possibility? DICK. Don't pump me, Dr. Delaney, please! Confound it, you wouldn't ask me to betray a woman's confidence by even a hint! DR. DELANEY. Not for the worrld! [Taking DIcK's hand.] Besides, afther all, perhaps this is no business of minoine. (lood morning Mr. Phenyl. [ To himseVl, as he t1kes t?k ) Itis hat.] Now, if my theory is correct, I wonder if I could contrive to do a little good to a miserable man and an unhappy woman by a bold stroke? I'm inclined for the experiment. Mrs. Gilfillian MIRS. GILFILLIAN. Yes, IDoctor? Dn. DELANEY. [Taking her hand.] I've been thinkiniig I shall have you and your pretty dfaughter on my hands if I don't take better care of ye. 140 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. Yes, the east hasn't exhausted its marvels yet, by a long chalk. ROOPE. [Looking at him curiously.] Nothing the matter, Phil? BERTRAM. [Suddenly, into the telephone.] That you, Dunning -? PHILIP. L 7 ROOPE.] Robbie [Turning to the fire, PHILIP talks rapidly and energetically to ROOPE in undertones. BERTRAM. [Into the telephone.] Filson.... Mr. Filson.. I'm speaking from Gray's Inn.... Gray's Inn-Mr. Mackworth's chambers-2, Friars Court... You're wanted, Dunning.... Now-immediately... Yes, jump into a taxicab and come up, will you?... ROOPE. [To PHILIP, aloud, opening his eyes widely.] My dear Phil-! PHILIP. [ With a big laugh.] Ha, ha, ha, ha -! BERTRAM. [To PHILIP, an rrily.] Quiet! I can't hear. [Into the telephone.] I can t hear; there's such a beastly noise going on-what?... Dash it, you can get something to eat at any time! I mean to say-!... Eh?... [rritably.] Oh, of course you may have a wash and brush SI'EEJ LA I'VENDER 141 MRS. GILFILLIAN. I'll go to a Registry Office at once and hire a handy girl, if there's one in LoIndlon. I won't have that dlegraIded womniii M A( )stiichli in tihese 1o0m011s aclail. ['Turninq sha?/)l, s// c sees MtINNIE a111d I. ORA( E CloSe toiether.] Minniui! [J1onAcE leaves AINNIE (ljickly, and tlrasts himself half ont of the window. MINNIE. Mamma! MRS. GILFILTLIAN. [Severely.] When Mr Bream has terminated his visit, perhaps in this hour of emergency you will remember there is such a place as the pantl'y. [Mus. GILFILLIAN gOes into DIK 's TOOmi, which she is 10now occupying. MTINNIE looks towards HORACE,?0hose body is half out of the wilndow, then at DICK, then at her hands. MINNIE. [Siqghinqg.] Washing up is awfully trying for one's hands. D)ICK. I'11 help-shall I? MINNIE. What a good-natured man you ale, Mr. Phenyl! I'm so sorry I scolded you. DeligCKte.. Delighted. 142 THE BIG DRUM ROOPE. [Uneasily.] Er-I am rather an interloper, I'm afraid, mny dear Sir Randle --- SIR RANDLE. [Retaining his hand.] No. [Emphatically.] No. This is one of Philip's many happy inspirations. If my memory is accurate, it was at your charmiig flat in South Audley Street that he and my darling child - [Discovering BERTRAM, who is now by the settee on the lelt.] Bertie! [Going to him.] 1 haven't seen you all day, Bertie dear. [Kissing him on the forehead.] Busy, eh? BERTRAM. [Stiffly.] Yes, father. PHILIP. [At the chair on the left of the smoking-table, dryly.] Bertram has been telling me how busy he has been, Sir Randle - SIR RANDLE. [Not perceiving the general air of restraint.] That reminds me-[moving, full of importance, to the settee on the right-feeling in his breast-pocket] the announcement of the engagement, Philip-[seating himself and producing a pocketbook] Lady Filson and I drew it up this morning. [Hunting- among- some letters and iapers.] I believe it is in the conventional form; but we so thoroughly sympathize with you and Ottoline in your dislike for anything that savors of pomp and flourish that we hesitate, without your sanction, to-[selecting a faper and handing it to PHILIP] ah! [ To ROOPE, who has returned to the fireflace-over his shoulder.] I am treating you as one of ourselves, Mr. Roope l SJTTEJT LA VENI)ER14 143' MINNIE. Flitter Toss up ta coin. MINNIE. [Glanmcim towrards I IOILACE with diady.] 01 1o, thank you, I couldn't do that. [Seeing HORACE?S still lean inq out qf the wtndow.] Ie. quick, I don't mind. iDicli. [Producing a p'enny. 1 Now, then. IBriftanniai lwslies, and the Queen wipes. [inhowinq 7q a coin, (id catching it smartly-to himnself] I'm really very inuch better. [To MINNIE.] Miss G4iIlillian-stidden death -you cry. MI NNIE. What? [Solemnly.] Sudden death-you cry. MIINNIE. Oh, oow unkind of you to suggest such thlings when Uncle Geoffrey is so unwell. DICKR. You misunderstand me! I mean, you guess-he0"Ad or tail. MINNIE. [With, diqylity.] Oh, head, please. l)ICK. [Referribig to lis C(Iia.j W\\oinaii ---'ot wash, I-f 144 THE BIG DRUM popular-the widely and deservedly popular Sir Randle and Lady Filson -" [l/ifer readitn it to the end silently, he restores the paper to SIR RANDLE with a smile and a slight bow. SIR RANDLE. [Collecting himself.] Er-Lady Filson and I thought it might be prudent, Philip, to-er-to give a lead to the inevitable comments of the press. [Replacing the paper in his pocketbook.] If you object, my dear boy - PHILIP. [With a motion of the head towards the vestibule door. ] That must be Lady Filson and Ottoline. [He goes to the door and opens it. LADY FILSON and OTTOLINE are in the vestibule and JOHN is taking LADY FILSON'S wrap from her. LADY FILSON. [Brimming over with good humor.] Ah, Philip! Don't say we're late! PHILIP. [Lightly.] I won't. LADY FILSON. [Entering and shaking hands with him.] Your staircase is so dark, it takes an age to climb it. [To ROOPE, who comes forward, shaking hands with him.] How nice! Ottoline told me, coming along, that we were to meet you. ROOPE. [Bending over her hand.] Dear lady! SWEET LA VENDER I145 IIORA CE. Hallo! Why, she minust have thrmown this! Al, how playful she is at times. I hear no ill-will towards Mrs. Gilfillian, but what a gay, liigh-spirite(l girl Minnie would be if she were a thoroughly qlualified orphan. [Looking round.] I llguess she's hiding around here somewhere. [MINNIE appears in the passage openiny, woipin a cup. She peeps into the room, and cqmes5face to face with HO1RACE. HORACE. [Triuqmpheawtly holding up the ball of wuool.] I I! Ha! You imagined I didn't see you throw this, but I did. MINNIE. [Coldly.] I! Really, Mr. Bream! Excuse me, I'm occupied in the pantry. HORACE. May I join you in the pantry? MiINNIE. Oh, no, certainiily not; but if you'll wait here, mamma won't he long. [She retires, drawing the curtain over the openngy. IIORACE. [A ngrily.] Alamma! Mamnia! I am becoming desperate. I can't sleep-I can't eat I- can't live oh anything but hope, and this girl is just starving me. K THE BIG DB UM the chair by the smoking-table and prepares to make himself agreeable to LADY FILSON.] Share it with me, Dad, and let me warm my toes before dinner. I'm frozen I PHILIP. [Coming to the middle of the room.] My dear OttolineLady Filson-Sir Randle-I fear we shall all have time to warm our toes before dinner. [ROOPE, who is about to address a remark to LADY FILSON, puts his hand to his mouth, and SIR RANDLE and LADY FILSON look at PHILIP inquiringly.] You mustn't blame me wholly for the hitch in my poor entertainment - LADY FILSON. [Amiably.] The kitchen! I guess your difficulties, Philip - PHILIP. No, nor my kitchen either - OTTOLINE. [Turning the chair on the nearer side of the fireplace so that it faces the fire.] The cook wasn't punctual! [Installing herself in the chair.] Ah, la, la/ Ces cuisinieres causent la moitid des ennuis sur cette terre / PHILIP. Oh, yes, the cook was punctual. [His manner hardening a little.] The truth is, we are waiting for a Mr. Dunning. LADY FILSON. Mr. -? SIR RANDLE. Mr. -? S WEE T LA VENDER 147 MINNIE. An acquaintance. HORACE. No-a lover. MINNIE. Mr. Bream-sir! HORACE. [Emphatically.] I repeat, a lover-a lover-a lover. There, I've said it. MINNIE. Having said it, will you allow me to carry out the tray? HORACE. Permit me? [Hie takes the tray and places it on the table. She passes him, and is going out when he turns quickly, and takiMn her hand draws her back into the room.] That's not fair. You must say Yes to-day, or-IMINNIE. Or you start for New York next Saturday-I know. You were going to start for New York next Saturday when we first met you, months ago, if you remember. HORACE. Remember I My heart keeps a diary in red ink. Why don't you like me, Minnie? MINNIE. How unjust! I like you as much as I can ever like-any foreigner. HORACE. Foreigner! THE BIG DRUM whereupon PHILIP, after watching their departure, deliberately closes the big doors. ROOPE, who has been picking at his nails nervously, rises and steals away to the left, and SIR RANDLE, advancing a step or two, exchanges questioning glances with LADY FILSON. OTTOLINE. [Laughingly.) What a terrible shock! I was frightened that Philip had sprung a strange guest upon us. [As PHILIP is shutting the doors.] Vous?tes bien mysterieux, Phil? Why are we to starve until this Mr. Dunning has come and gone? PHILIP. Because if I tried to eat without having first disposed of the reptile, Otto, I should choke. LADY FILSON. [Bewildered.] Reptile? OTTOLINE. Philip! PHILIP. [At the chair beside the smoking-table-to LADY FILSON.] I apologize very humbly for making you and Sir Randle, and dear Ottoline, parties to such unpleasant proceedings, Lady Filson; but the necessity is forced upon me. fComing forward.] Mr. Dunning is one of those crawling creatures who conduct what are known as confidential inquiries. In other words, he's a private detective-an odd sort of person to present to you! - LADY FILSON. [Under her breath.] Great heavens! SII'EFT LA I'EN) ER 140 MINNIE. And this is my reward for not disturbing mamma! Only an American would throw stairs in a girl's face. I IORACE. Miss Gilfillian, you are like the typical English gentleman who says, " Give me a home-made watch "! Nobody does give it to him, but he pays sixty guineas for one, has his crest carved on it, and is borne down on one side with the weight of it for years. When it is not being cleaned, it enablles him to lose his train. At last it is stolen from him in a crowd-so he swears a little, buys a cheap American timepiece, and lives happily. Miss Gilfillian, perhaps some (lay when you have won and worn your home-made musband you'll give a thought to the cheap but reliable American who has now the honour to wish you good-bye. MINNIE. I-I shall not say good-bye, or anything, after such-unkindness. To- to-to be called a flirt! A flirt! Oh, dear, it's so hard! [S'he takes 7 th the tray from the table and hacks towarlds ORACE,?'1A 0 srddellj lnt8ts his arm r2.mnd her waist. Il( ()RACE. Ah, forgive me! MINNIE. Forgive you! After sucll a cruel charge! Remove you arm, Mr. Bream! 150 THE BIG DRB UM upon BERTRAM, crosses the room at the back.] So what does he do, bless him for his devotion to his belongings! To safeguard his parents from being jockeyed, and as a brotherly precaution, he enlists the services, on the sly, of the obliging Mr. Dunning. We shall shortly have an opportunity of judging what that individual's game is. [ With a shrug.] He may have stumbled legitimately into a mare's nest; but I doubt it. These ruffians'll stick at nothing to keep an ingenuous client on the hook[He is interruptled by feeling OTTOLINE'S hand upon his arm. He lays his hand on hers gently.] Otto dear - OTTOLINE. [Clutching him lightly and articulating with an effort.] It-it's infamous-shameful! My-my brother! It's infamous! PHILIP. Oh, it'll be all over in ten minutes. And then Bertie and I will shake hands-won't we, Bertie?-and forget the wretched incident OTTOLINE. [ Confronting BERTRAM, trembling withi passion.] llow dare you! How dare you meddle with my affairs--mine and Mr. Mackworth's! How dare you! BERTRAM. [Straightening himself ] Look heah, Ottoline----! OTTOLINE. Stand up when I speak to you! [BERTRAM gets to his feet in a hurry. LADY FILSON. [AfpPealingly.] Otto -! SWEET LA "EN PER15 151 MRS. G'ILFILLIAN, [T/o 1trs I] 1llat young~ manl s-till hlere. "To HORACE.] N r.- Bream, I shall be Much obliredl if you'll give me your arm- actross the Stra-nd. hO0RACE. Certainly! It wviii be the last opportunity T shiall, have of rendering you even so slight a service. [MIN.NIE t?'ras, lis/edilig. Indeed! HORACE. I start for N' York- [emlphat ical~y] -on 'Wedniesday. [MINNIE gftles at Stifled, exclama0)tion. MR.S. GILFILLIAN. We're very sorry -thoughi, perhaps, you hiave been wasting your time rather sadly HORACE. That notion ha~s just struck mne. Please s~ay farewvell for me to everybody. [MINNIE looks at hbia wzstjuliy.] Anid tell Mlr. Wedlderburn that I have called every day this past xveek-[lookiing at MNINNIE] -solely to inquire after him. [MILINNIE. retreatds to the, wrildowý-seat. MRS. GILFmILIAN. [Dubiously.] Ujm! J'm quite readly, Mr. Breamn. [8/lhe goes ont. 152 THE BIG DRBUM LADY FILSON. [7 BERTRIAM.] Bertie dear, I'm surprised at you I To do a thing like this behind our backs! BERTRAM. My dear mother, I knew that you and father wouldn't do itLADY FILSON. I should think not, indeed! SIR RANDLE. [To BERTRAM.] Your mother and I I LADY FILSON. [Horrified at the notion.] Oh! BERTRAM. Upon my word, this is rather rough! [ alking away.] I mean to say - / PHILIP. [Turning.] We mustn't be too hard on poor Bertram, Lady Filson - BERTRAM. [Pacing the room near the big doors.] Poor Bertram! Ho! SIR RANDLE. [To PHILIP.] I trust we are never unduly hard on our children, my dear Philip - PHILIP. To do him justice, he was most anxious to postpone these dreadful revelations till to-morrow - SWEET LA V-ENDER 5 S5. out me-Horace." [ Risino?iith the note in her hand.] Give me something heavy, to weight this! [inatching the 8pOOn from DKIcK.] IThat'll do. DIcK. Eh? [Sihe screws up the spoon iin the pape-r and runs up to the windolIw. MINNIE. [Lookiny out of the window.] Al! [Oallinq softlq.] IIorace! Horace! [She throws ot the.q)ooli andl ])a per. DICK. [To himself.] Thact spoon belonged to my poor mother. ATINNIE. [PWithdirawing from the window hastily.J Oh! Mamma's got it. DICK. Glad to hear it. MINNIE. Oh, Mr. Phenyl, run after Mr. Bream DICK. [Catching upi his hat.] Certainly. [6'iring her the cloth he carries.] You go on with the wiping. What shall I say? MINNIE. Say I want him to inquire' after Uncle Geoffrey as usual. 154 THE BIG DBUMA OTTOLINE. Why-why should you stoop to see him at all? Why shouldn't the matter be allowed to drop-to drop? PHILIP. Drop! OTTOLINE. It-it's too monstrous; too absurd. [7b BERTRAM, with a laugh.] Ha, ha, ha! Bertie-Bertie dear-- BERTRAM. [Sullenly.] Yes? OTTOLINE. Ha, ha! I almost scared you out of your wits, didn't I? BERTRAM. You've behaved excessively rudely-- LADY FILSON. Bertram-Bertram - BERTRAM. I mean to say, mother What becomes of family loyalty --? OTTOLINE. [To BERTRAM, coaxingly.] Forgive me, Bertram. I'm ashamed of my violent outburst. Forgive meROOPE. IWho has been efacing himself behind the table on the left, appearing at the nearer end of the table.] Er-dear excellent friends-[SIR RANDLE and LADY FILSON look at ROOPE as if he had fallen from the skies, and BER SWI'EET LA IENDER 5 155 the door! [DICK foes to the door (1(d closes it. MINNIE places LAVENDERI in lte a)',c/Hir', (Ul removes her hat.] Oh, poor Clement! iIo happy he will be! H ow happy hlie will be! [Returning breathlessly.] I was about to put a question to you, Lavvy. Where have you come from? Where are you--? MINNIE. Oh, huslih, Mr. Phenyl! LavendIler will tell vme. L[Tenderly.] Where have you come from, dear? DICK. My question! LAVENDER. [LFaintly.] I've come from Miss Morrison's School at Ilighgate,. where mother took me when we left here. I-i've run away, Miss ('ilfillian. DICK. Run away! MINNIE. Hush, Mr. Phenyl! DICK. Yes, but run away! MINNIE. Be quiet! )ICK. Run away! 156 THE BIG DRUM PHILIP. [Turning away, angrily.] Oh - I LADY FILSON. [Severely.] Bertie -! SIR RANDLE. Bertram, my boy-! [7he bell rings. There is a short silence, and then BERTRAM rises and pulls down his waistcoat portentously. BERTRAM. Here he is. OTTOLINE. [To LADY FILSON, in a low voice.] Mother-? LADY FILSON. [To PHILIP.] Do you wish us to withdraw, Philip? PHILIP. [Sitting at the writing-table.] Not at all, Lady Filson. [Switching on the light of the library-lamp, sternly.] On the contrary, I should like you both to remain. LADY FILSON. [To OTTOLINE.] Otto dear--? OTTOLINE. [Adjusting a comb in her hair.] Oh, certainly, mother, I'll stay. LADY FILSON. [Arranging her skirt and settling herselfmajestically.] Of this we may be perfectly sure; when my son finds thai he has been misled, purposely or unintentionally, he will be only too ready-too ready - SIIEET LA I'ENDER 157 who lent me the paper and the envelope told Miss Morrison, who scolded mine dreadfully. But I got out of the house. If it had been a prison, Miss Gilfillian, I shoul1d have got ouiit, now that Mr. Hale is in trouble. Here's a pretty kettle o' fish! You know you'll have to be sent back, Lavvy. MIINNIE. Nothing of the kind. LAVENDER. I'll go back when I've seen him for five minutes. AII N \ I-. [Indignantly.] Mir. Phenyl, you're positively heartless! IDICK. [Piteouly.] Heartless! I heartless! You don't know what I know. I mean, I'm a man; you're only a couple of girls-a girl and a half I may say. [ With his hand to his head.] Oh! where's Ruth's secret going to now! MINNIE. I admire your spirit, Lavender, if Mr. Phenyl (Ioesn't. LAVENDER. Ah, I've no spirit at all, Miss ('ilfillian. [MINNIE takes her in iher arm.s and caresses her.] But mother iid me away because I was too poor and humble 'or Mr. Hale -and so I nas a week ago. But now 158 THE BIG DR UM DUNNING. [To SIR RANDLE and LADY FILSON.] Evening. BERTRAM. My sister, Madame de Chaumie DUNNIN;. [To OTTOLINE.] Evening. BERTRAM. Mr. Roope-Mr. Mackworth - DUNNING. [To them.] Evening. [SIR RANDLE, LADY FILSON, and ROOPE, looking at DUNNING out of the corners of their eyes, acknowledge the introduction by a slight movement. PHILII' nods unfi/lasantly. OTTOLINE, with a stony countenance, also eyes DUNNING askance, and gives the barest possible inclination of her head on being named. BERTRAM. [h'ringing forward the chair on which he has been sitting and planting it nearer to SIR RANDLE andt LADY FILSON -to DUNNING.] I suppose you may - DUNNING. [ Taking off his gloves and overcoat-to PHILIIP.] D'ye mind if I slip my coat off, Mr. Mackworth t' PHILIP. [Growling.] No. DUNNING. Don't want to get overheated, and catch the flue. I've got Mrs. D. in bed with a bad cold, as it is, j SWEET LA VENDER 1I59 DICK. [I'fttiay his arm round LAVENDER.11. I quite agl'e with you, Miss G(ilfillian-a friend. MINNIE. [Putting her arm round LAVENDER.] A protectolr. DICK. Yes, somebody who wasn't born two or three weeks ago. MINNIE. I'm of age. D)ICK. Well, look at me. MINNIE. But you're not a woman! DICK. As it happens-as it happens! [1A gong bell is heard striking twice. M1INNIE. [TO DPIC, tri mphanltly.] Ha! ha! Uncle Wedderburn's bell-twice! It's for you to read the newspaper. LAVENDER. [Frightened.] Is Mr. Wedlderburn here? IMINNIE. [Gaily.] Yes, we're all here. Run alomA Mr Phenyl. 160 THE BIG DRUM tion that, as far as his firm was concerned, the book wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. [Repeating the thumb process.] I then proceeded to pump one of the gals-er-to interrogate one of the assistants-at a circulating library Mrs. D. subscribes to, with a similar result. [ urning to the next leaf.] My next step-- SIR RANDLE. I wonder whether these elaborate preliminaries -? BERTRAM. Oh, don't interrupt, father! I mean to say-- / DUNNING. [Imperturbably.] My next step was to place the book in the hands of a lady whose liter'y judgment is a great deal sounder than mine or Mr. Sillitoe's-I allude to Mrs. D.-and her report was that, though amusing in parts, she didn't see anything in it to set the Thames on fire. PHILIP. [Laughing in spite of himself.] Ha, ha, ha ROOPE. Ha, ha! [To PHILIP, with mock sympathy.] Dear excellent friend! BERTRAM. [To ROOPE.] Yes, all right, Mr. Roope--- DUNNING. [Turning to the next leaf] I and Mr. Sillitoe then had another confab-er-consultation with Mr. Filson, and we pointed out to him that it was up to his father and mother to challenge Titterton's assertions and invite proof of their accuracy. SWEET LA VENDER MINNIE. A fellow-feeling. I'm unhappy in my love, too. LAVENDER. [Putting her arms round MINNIE'S neck.] Oh! Tell me. MINNIE. He's Mr. Bream. I said " No" to him, and lihe believed me, in a foolish American way he lhas. LAVENDER. Oh, we ought always to speak the truth. Why, directly Clement asked me, I said " Yes." MINNIE. Well, Lavvy, at a big dinner the sweets are always brought round twice, and I thought-I thought[Ihimpering.] I'm a wretched girl. LAVENDER. [Affectionately.] Don't cry! Don't cry! MINNIE. I forgot that if the sweets do come round again, other ladies have been digging spoons in. LAVENDER. Is he far away? MINNIE. Yes-he's in the Strand now. LAVENDER. Let us go after him with Clement. 162 THE BIG DPRU PHILIP. [Patting her shoulder soothingly.] Tsch, tsch, tsch -! BERTRAM. [To LADY FILSON and SIR RANDLE.] My dear mother-my dear father-you're so impatient! PHILIP. [ o OTTOLINE.] Tsch, tsch! Go back to the fire and toast your toes again. BERTRAM. I consider I was fully justified, I mean t'say - [Falteringly OTTOLINE returns to the fireplace. She stands there for a few seconds, clutching the mantel-shelf, and then subsides into the chair before the fire. PHILIP advances to the settee on the right. PHILIP. [ 7 DUNNING.] Sorry we have checked your flow of eloquence, Mr. Dunning, even for a moment. SSitting.] I wouldn't miss a syllable of it. [Airily.] Do, please, continue. SIR RANDLE. [Looking at his watch.] My dear Philip--! BERTRAM. [To DUNNING, wearily.] Oh, come to the man-what's his name, Dunning?-Merryweather -! DUNNING. [Turning several fages of his note-book with his wet thumb.] Merrifield. SWEET LA VENDER 163 WEDDERBURN. [Seeing MINNIE.] Ah, Minnie, my dear! MINNIE. [Going to himn.] Why, uncle! WEDDERBURN. [Patting her cheek.] Ah, I can't submit to l)e nursed and cosseted any longer. I-I-shall go down to Barncehester to-morrow to face the people, and--and to see about other things. [Seeing LAVENDER.] Who's that young lady, my dear? MINNIE. [Bringing LAVENDER jorward.] This is-a friend of mine, uncle. [WEDDERBURN holds out his hand. LAVENDER puts her handcl in his, timidly. WEDDERBURN. I'm very glad to see Minnie's friend. LAVENDER. [With a curtsey.] Thank you, sir. WEDDERBURN. I've been rather ill, my dear, but the dloctor says I may go into the gardens while the sun is out. Will you walk on one side of me, with Minnie on the other? LAVENDER. I--I would, sir-if my mother would let me. 164 THE BIG DRUM SIR RANDLE. Yes, what have Messrs. Hopwood -? BERTRAM. [Over his shoulder.] Ho! What have Messrs. Hopwood --! ROOPE. [Tb BERTRAM, tinintfng to DUNNING.] 1 am addressing this gentleman, dear excellent friend DUNNING. [To RooPE.] I'll tell you, sir. [Incisively.] It's to the bogus firm of Hopwood & Co. that the bulk of the volumes of Mr. Mackworth's new book have been consigned. BERTRAM. [Getting of the table, eagerly.] Dunning has seen them, I mean t'say SIR RANDLE. [ To BERTRAM, startled.] Be silent, Bertie! LADY FILSON. [To BERTRAM, holding her breath.] Do be quiet! ROOPE. [Blankly.] The-the bulk of the volumes -? PHILIP. [Staring at DUNNING.] The-the bulk of the -? DUNNING. [To SIR RANDLE and ROOPE.] Yes, gentlemen, the books are in a mouldy cellar, also rented by Messrs. Hopwood at 6, Carmichael Lane. There's thousands SWEET LA VENDER 165 on Wedderburn's neglect of his business rather taxes my imagination. Ready, sir? WEDDERBURN. Yes, yes, Mr. Richard. DICK. H'm! [To himself.] Hallo I Here is a short leader. [Reading.] " It will not be difficult to find an excuse for Mr. Wedderburn's ignorance of the affairs of the bank." WEDDERBURN. [Eagerly.] Ah! That's good-that's just. DICK. [To himself.] It will be difficult, they say here. Wonderful what a word does. [There is a rat-tat-tat at the outer door. Laying down the paper.] Excuse me. WEDDERBURN. [To himself.] It will not be difficult to find an excuse for Mr. Wedderburn-an excuse for Mr. Wedderburn. [DICK opens the door. DR. DELANEY and RUTH, dressed as a nurse, but veiled, are outside. DR. DELANEY. Thank ye, Mr. Phenyl. Thank ye. [Cheerily, pointing to WEDDERBURN.] Come, now, look at that! 166 THE BIG DRUMN SIR RANDLE. [Alertly.] Quite so! Surely, if we were to be deceived, a simpler method could have been found -? ROOPE. [ WIith energy.] Besides, what has Mr. Titterton to gain by the deception? SiR RANDLE. True! True! What has he to gain -?PHILIP. [ Who is sitting with his hands hanging loosely, utterly bewildered--rousing himself.] Good God, yes! What has Titterton to gain by joining me in a blackguardly scheme to-to-to -? DUNNING. [7T SIR RANDLE and ROOPE.] Well, gentlemen, in the first place, it's plain that Titterton was too fly to risk being easily blown upon - BERTRAM. He was prepared to prove that the books have been manufactured and delivered, I mean t'say - DUNNING. And in the second place, on the question of expense, the speculation was a tolerably safe one. LADY FILSON. [Keenly.] Speculation? I)UNNING. Madarme dee Showmeeay being, according to my instructions-[to LADY F IISON, after a glance in OTTOLINE'S direction] no offence, ladies-[to SIR RANDLE and ROOPE] SWEET LA VENDER 167 WEDDERBURN. [In a whisper.] Who is it? RUTH. Ruth. W EDDERBURN. Ruth-Ruth! RUTH. I am the nurse that Dr. Delaney speaks of. Do you wish me to remain, Mr. Wedderburn? WEDDERBORN. [With an efort, in a low voice.] Yes, Ruth. [ He sinks back into his chair, staring forward. She removes her bonnet and cloak. DR. DELANEY. [Softly to DICK.] That's all right. [Aloud.] I'll be with ye again in ten minutes, Wedderburn. [Nudging DICK.] A delicate, but successful experiment. Come, I'll tell ye how I put the pieces of the puzzle together. [DICK and DELANEY go into the other room. RUTH. If Mr. Phenyl was reading to you, shall I take his place? WEDDERBURN. [Passing his hand across his brow.] You are merciful to me, Ruth. You come to me when I am ill, broken, in misfortune. 168 THE BIG DRUMI Lady Filson-Sir Randle-you don't believe that Titterton and I could be guilty of such an arrant piece of knavery, do you? Ho, ho, ho! It's preposterous. SIR RANDLE. [Constrainedly.] Frankly-I must be frank-I hardly know what to believe. LADY FILSON. [Pursing her mouth.] We-we hardly know what to believe. PHILIP. [Leaving them.] Ah -! ROOPE. [ Who has dropfed into the chair by the smoking-tableto SIR RANDLE.] Sir Randle-dear excellent friend-let us meet Mr. Dunning to-morrow at Messrs. Hopwood's in Carmichael Lane-we three-you and 1 and Mackworth PHILIP. [Pacing up and down between the table on the left and the bookcase.) Yes, yes-before I wire to Titterton-or see Curtis, his managerROOPE. [Over his shoulder, to DUNNING.] Hey, Mr. Dunning? DUNNING. Pleasure. [While this has been going on, DUNNING has fut his note-book away and risen, eathering up his hat and overcoat as he does so. BERTRAM is now assisting him into his coat. SWEET LA VENDER I69 betrayed and broke my promise to, eighteen years since. I have never forgotten the time when you asked me if I was ashamed of the poor girl who hung upon my arm in the lanes about Barnchester, and the answer I gave you. Your look of shame and reproach as you left me has been always with me, and it was the ghost of that look which struck me down here, a week ago. [Burying hi face in his handkerchiej. RUTH. You've been too hard upon yourself, Mr. Wedderburn. You were right-I was not a fit wife for you. And now we are growing old! Forget it and suffer no more. [She breaks down and leans her head upon the back of the chair, weeping. WEDDERBURN. But why talk of my sufferings, Ruth? What have yours been? RUTH. Less than I deserved-because you know, sir, Heaven had mercy upon me, and consoled me. WEDDERBURN. Ah! I remember. They call you Mrs. Rolt hereyou were Ruth Rawdon at Barnchester. You are a widow, with a daughter whom Clement has become attached to. I remember. [She goes back a step or two, staring at him. 170 THE BIG DBUM BERTRAM. And pokes about in the cellar - DUNNING. Calls himself Hopwood. But the name written on the lining of his hat-[to BERTRAM, carelessly] oh, I forgot to mention this to you, Mr. Filson. [Producing his memorandum-book again.] Old mother Sweasy was examining the young man's outdoor apparel the other day. [Turning the fages with his wet thumb.] The name on the lining of his hat is-[finding the entry] is "* Westrip." * Leonard Westrip." BERTRAM. Westrip? SIR RANDLE. Leonard-Westrip? LADY FILSON. Mr. Westrip! SIR RANDLE. [To DUNNING, blinking.] Mr. Westrip is my secretary. BERTRAM. [To DUNNING, agafe.] He's my father's secretary. DUNNING. [To SIR RANDLE.] Your seckert'ry? PHILIP. [Coming to the nearer end of the settee on the left.] The -the-the fair boy I've seen in Ennismore Gardens! SWEET LA VENDER 171 pared to what I flung away eighteen years ago-the love of a faithful woman. LAVENDER enters with MINNIE, both dressed for going out. RUTH. Lavender! LAVENDER. [Going to RUTH.] Mother, dear mother, don't be angry with me! Mother! WEDDERBURN. [In a whisper to himself, sinking into the armchair.] My child! CLEMENT enters hurriedly. MINNIE. [Running up to him.] Clement! Look here! [LAVENDER goes to CLEMENT and clings to him. CLEMENT. Lavender! Mrs. Rolt LAVENDER. Ah, Clement! DICK and DR. DELANEY enter. LAVENDER. [Passionately.] Mother! I read that Mr. Hale had become poor, and I came here this morning to 172 2THE BIG DRUMI OTTOLINE. [Steadying herself by resting her finger-tips upon the table.] The-the explanation is that Mr. Westrip-[with a wan smile] poor boy-he would jump into the sea for me if I bade him-the explanation is that Mr. Westrip has been-helping me - LADY FILSON. Helfing you --? SIR RANDLE. Helping you -- OTTOLINE. [Inclining her head.] Helping me. He-he [,Raising her eyes defiantly and confronting them all.] Ecoutez! Robbie Roope has asked who is the actual tenant of the cellar and room in Carmichael Lane. [Breathing deeply.] Iam. LADY FILSON. [Advancing afew stefs.] You are! N-n-nonsense! OTTOLINE. Mr. Westrip took the place for me-my arrangement with Titterton made it necessary - LADY FILSON. With Titterton! Then he-he has - OTTOLINE. Yes. The thousands of copies-packed in the cases with the lying labels-I have bought them-they're mine - LADY FILSON. Y-y-yours I SWEET LA VENDER i73 MRS. GILFILLIAN. Good gracious me! Why, Mrs. Rolt, you're surely not the nurse Dr. Delaney promised us? DR. DELANEY. [Going to MRS. GILFILLIAN and taking her hands.] Mee dear lady, with the acuteness which is your characteristic, you've hit it. Mrs. Rolt came into my beautiful Home a week ago. She didn't wish it known, and it was no business of moine to divulge it. But when I wanted to preserve the roses in your own cheeks, ma'am, it was Mrs. Rolt who volunteered to help in a work for which all humanity should be grateful. MRS. GILFILLIAN. [To RUTH, shaking hands with her.] Well, I'm sure I'm much obliged to Mrs. Rolt. [Looking round and discovering LAVENDER.] Why, here's your daughter! DR. DELANEY. Oh, yes, ma'am, we allow beautiful flowers in a sick room-[pointing to the window]-if you keep the window open. RUTH. [Falteringly.] I-I did my best. Lavender has been away-at school. DR. DELANEY. But the poor little thing chirrups for her mother -hen and chick, ma'am. 174 THE BIG DRUM BERTRAM. [To DUNNING, in the sante way.] Awful. [ Opening the outer door.] I-I'll see you in the m-m-moniiing. DUNNING. Pleasure. [Raising his voice.] Evening, ladies and gentlemen. LADY FILSON. [Again sitting on the settee on the left, also searchingfor her handkerchief.] G-g-good-night. SIR RANDLE. [Weakly.] Good-night. RooPE. [Who has wandered to the bookcase like a man in a trance.] Good-night. [DUNNING disafpfears, and BERTRAM closes the outer door and comes back into the room. Shutting the vestibule door, he sinks into the chair lately vacated by DUNNING. 7here is a silence, broken at length by a low, grating laugh from PHILIP. PHILIP. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha - LADY FILSON. [Dolefully.] Oh, Ottoline-Ottoline-- I PHILIP. Ha, ha, ha --- SWEET LA VENDER I75 bestows upon her. Lavender, my dear, come here. [Taking her hand as she comes to him timidly.] Lavender, you will be my boy's wife, so you must try to forgive my old unkindness to your mother, and learn to call me father. [lie draws her to him and kisses her. Then RUTH takes LAVENDER aside. CLEMENT. [To WEDDERBURN.] Ah, dad, didn't I describe her faithfully? Isn't she sweet and good? WEDDERBURN. Yes, Clement; but, Clara, what are we to say to Minnie? MRs. GILFILLIAN. [Testily.] There, don't talk about Minnie! I wash my hands of her and everybody else. It appears I know nothing about anyone or anything. I ought to have been buried years ago. As for my daughter, she throws a letter out of a window addressed to a gentleman-it falls into my hands, and I, having left my spectacles at home, actually ask that very gentleman to read it. Don't talk to me, anybody. MINNIE. Don't be sorry about me, Uncle Geoffrey. Of course, I've been vary fond of Clem for many years, but-l'm engaged to Mr. Bream now. WEDDERBURN. To Mr. Bream? 178 THE BIG DRUM her family, my dear Philip-by this-I must be harshby this unladylike transaction-- LADY FILSON. I have never felt so ashamed in my life I SIR RANDLE. [To PHILIP.] By-and-by I shall be better able to command language in which to express my profound regret. [Offering his hand.] For the present-good-night, and God bless you! PHILIP. [Shaking SIR RANDLE'S hand mechanically.] Goodnight. [As SIR RANDLE turns away, LADY FILSON comes to PHILIP. BERTRAM, having helped OTTOLINE with her cloak, now brings LADY FILSON'S wrap from the vestibule. SIR RANDLE takes it from him, and BERTRAM then returns to the vestibule and puts on his overcoat. LADY FILSON. [To PHILIP, who rises.] You must have us to dinner another time, Philip. If I eat a crust to-night it will be as much as I shall manage. [Speaking lower, with genuine feeling.] Oh, my dear boy, don t be too cast down-over your clever book, I mean! [Taking him by the shoulders.] It's a cruel disappointment for you-and you don't deserve it. May I -? [She pulls him to her and kisses him.] Good-night. PHILIP. [Gratefully.] Good-night. [LADY FILSON leaves PHIIIP and looks about for SWEET LA VENDER I77 Bank. [To DICK, who is walking avway.] Ah, don't go, Mr. Phenyl, please! DICK. [Coming to MAW, uneasily.] Awfully busy-back in five minutes. MAW. [Holding his arm.] No, no. The principal creditors, animated by the example of one of their number, have resolved to put Wedderburn's Bank upon its legs again-with every prospect of restoring confidence, sir, and discharging its old responsibilities. WEDDERBURN. Mr. Maw! MAw. And who do you think has turned the tide of Barnchester opinion in your favour, sir? [Pointing to DICK.] Mr. Phenyl, who has formally acquitted the Bank of the liability of the amount of the late Mr. Vipont's fortune. WEDDERBURN. Richard! [DICK comes to WEDDERBURN, who takes his hand, and sinks back into the armchair. RUTH comes quickly to WEDDERBURN.] MRs. GILFILLIAN. [Throwing her arms round DICK'S neck.] Oh, Mr. Phenyl! DICK. [Uncomfortably.] Thank you-thank you. M 178 THE BIG DRUM LADY FILSON. [Half in the room and half in the vestibule-to ROOPE, remembering his existence.] Oh, good-night, Mr. Roopel ROOPE. Good-night, dear Lady Filson. SIR RANDLE. [In the vestibule.] Good-night, Mr. Roope. ROOPE. Good-night. Good-night, dear excellent friends. LADY FILSON. [ To OTTOLINE, who is lingering by the big doors.] Ottoline - [LADY FILSON and BERTRAM join SIR RANDLE in the vestibule and SIR RANDLE opens the outer door. PHILIP, his hands behind him and his chin on his breast, has walked to the fireplace and is standing there looking fixedly into the fire. OTTOLINE slowly comes forward and fingers the back of the chair by the smoking-table. OTTOLINE. Good-night, Philip. [He turns to her, makes her a stiff, formal bow, and faces the fire again. ROOPE. [Advancing to her-under his breath.] Oh - I OTTOLINE. [Giving him her hand.] Ah! [With a plaintive shrug.] Vous voye / C'est fini aprds tout I SWEET LA VENDER 179 standing some slight moral repairs, the seams of my coat are prematurely white, my character radically out at elbow. If you choose to continue my acquaintance, you will find me here; and if you'll be seen with me abroad, why, we'll walk down Fleet Street. HORACE. I share your devotion to this old city, Mr. Phenyl. London has given me the most fascinating companion. DR. DELANEY. London, sir! Why London contains the largest number of patients of any civilised city in the world. MRS. GILFILLIAN. And the best-hearted doctors in the world. MINNIE. It is always very full of Americans. [Putting her hand in HORACE'S.] And some people like Americans. WEDDERBURN. Yes, yes, we'll speak well of London. For in this overgrown tangle some flowers find strength to raise their heads-the flowers of hope and atonement. [Taking RUTH'S hand and holding it. To LAVENDER.] What do you think, my child? LAVENDER. I think, sir-[going towards CLEMENT]--whatever Clement thinks, always. 180 THE BIG DRUM JOHN. [His eyes bolting.] The-the-the ladies and gentlemen have gone, sir! PHILIP. Yes. I'm dining alone. [JOHN vanishes precipitately; whereupon PHILIP strides to the big doors, thrusts them wide open with a blow of his fists, and sits at the diningtable. END OF THE THIRD ACT i Selection FROM MR. WAM. HEINEMANN'S LIST. November 1892. ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. A Study of His Life and Work. By ARTHUR WAUGH, B.A. Oxon. In One Volume, deny 8vo, with 2 Portraits, and 21 Illlstrations from Photographs specially taken for this work. los. 6d. TWENTY-FIVE YEARS IN THE SECRET SERVICE. The Recollections of a Spy. By Major LE CARON. In One Volume, 8vo. With Portraits and Facsimiles. 6th Edition. 14s. THE REALM OF THE HABSBURGS. By SIDNEY WHITMAN, Author of "Imperial Germany.' In One Volume. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d. 3TUDIES OF RELIGIOUS HISTORY. By ERNEST RENAN. Translated from the French. In One Volume. Crown 8vo, 7s. 6d. 'HE JEW AT HOME. Impressions of a Summer and Autumn Spent with Him in Austria and Russia. By JosEPH PENNELL. With Illustrations by the Author. 4to, cloth, 5s. HE NEW EXODUS. A Study of Israel in Russia. By HAROLD FREDERIC. Demy 8vo, illustrated. x6s. RINCE BISMARCK. An Historical Biography. By CHARLES LOWE, M.A. With Portraits, Crown 8vo, 6s. IE ARBITRATOR'S MANUAL. Under the Chamber of Arbitration. Being a Prnctical Treatise on the Powers and Duties of an Arbitrator. By J. S. SALAMsaN, Solicitor of the Supreme Court. Post 8vo. 3s. 6d.