V.* Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/twothornscomedyiOOalbe TWO ROSES AN ORIGINAL COMEDY, IN THREE ACTS. BY JAMES ALBERT, AUTHOR OF ‘^Doctor Davey;^ CoquHtes,"’ Apple Blossoms, '' Ficicivick,’^ Forgiven,'' ‘‘ Ttveedle's Rights," ^^TVig and G own," Spendthrift," ‘^Oriana," Married," ^‘Pride," The Man in Possession," Pinh Dominos," ‘‘The Crisis," “Spectre Knight," “ W here' s the Cat," “Duty," “The Golden Wreath," “ King Kino," “Jack and Jill," dec., d’c., § London : SAMUEL FRENCH, ^ PUBLISHER, % 89, STRAND. New York : SAMUEL FRENCH & SON, PUBLISHERS, 38, EAST 14th STREET. First 'performed at the Vaudeville Theatre, Straul, tinder ihe Mana(jement of Messrs. Montague, James, anti ThoPw^i., Jane 4t/t, 1870. CHARACTEPvS. Digby Grant, Esq. . . JIe. HENEY IRVING. ■Caleb Deecib . . . Mk. THOMAS THORNE. J.LGK Wyatt . . . Mr. H. J. MON TAG l E. OuK Mr. Jenkins . . Me. GEORGE HONEY. AIk. Fuenival . . . AIe. W. H. STEPHENS. OCE AIes. Jenkins . . Miss LAVIS. Lotty .... AIiss AAIY FAWSITf. Ida AIiss NEWTON. Arr I.— AT DIGBY^ GRANT’S HOUSE, Act II.— at WYATT’S LODGINGS. .Act III. -at D. GRANT DE CHAPERON’S VILLA. TWO ROSES. ACT 1. oCEXE . — Room in Grant’s cottage. Window at hacJzy with rose trees shewing on each side ; door in flat, l.; fireplace, r.; door, r.i.f.; piano, l. On the walls framed needtework. Brick floor, zuith cocoanut matting. Chess table ; sez^nng machine, don’t signify. {si7s l. 0 / the table) Grant. If it don’t signify, why not wait ? Mrs. C. (rises indignantly) I haven’t common patience. Good morning. (^<^/>/^) TWO ROSES. 5 Grant. Mrs. Cups, stay, (rises) You shall be paid. I’ll do it. Mrs. C. Dear me, what ? (returning Grant. This little room (rises) — lowly indeed, for I do not hold the position I did — is still the abode of honour and innocence, of me, a broken gentleman, and my fair daughters — two roses, as my very worthy, though plebeian friend, John Wyatt, calls them — two roses — white and red. This floor shall never be polluted by the tread of a broken I will do it. Mrs. C. Dear me, do what ? Grant. I will sacrifice myself. Mrs. C. Not kill yourself, Mr. Grant ? Grant. No, I will only slay my pride, (advances to corner of table doivn frofit^ R.) A lady who has wealth has almost asked me to share it ; I will marry her for the sake of my daughters — and you shall be paid. Mrs. C. I — I could wait a little while, Mr. Grant. Grant. No, you shall not wait. She is not a fair woman ; she has not your comely figure nor pleasant smile, Mrs. Cups. Mrs. C. Oh, Mr. Grant ! Grant. She has not your gentle voice. ]\Irs. C. Do you think my voice gentle? {behind diair) Grant. She will not be such a mother to my girls — as — as — you would make, but I have pressing need. Slie will, I know, lend me twenty pounds at once — and — you shall be paid, (sits in chair) Mrs. C. Oh, it seems a great pity you sliould sacrifice yourself, Mr. Grant. It’s very noble, but Grant. 1 will do my duty. Mrs. C. I — I — could lend you twenty pounds, Mr. Grant, if Grant, (takes her hand) Mrs. Cups, these lips have touched the royal hand (kisses her hand). I — I — cannot express what I feel at this proof of your — high esteem — I would not have you see my emotion Leave me — and — and — bring the money. Mrs. C. I will, Mr. Grant ; good-bye. Grant. Good-bye ; I shall never be able to repay you 6 TWO ROSES. for your kindness. Allow me. {opens door mid hows her cut; closes door) That’s a damn’d silly woman. {goes to get spirits and is going to niix, %vhen he hears Mrs. Cups and the Girls; he puis it aivay again) Mrs. C. {outside) Ah, my dears ! Girls. Ah, Mrs. Cups. We’re in a hurry, we’ve got a dispute. Now we’ll count. {they ai'e heard countings 1,2, 3, 4, OTTY tumis aiuay and' cries) I did not know it was so bad as that ; here’s the letter. (Lotty goes up to table joyously^ and reads letter) Ida. Now you be off, go into the garden and feed the rabbits. (Grant goos up to 7vindo7C>) Caleb, Have they grown ? Ida. Yes, Caleb’s the biggest. Caleb. Does Caleb frighten you ? Ida. Don’t be foolish. ukoa' j'v Caleb, {seated in arm-chair^ r. of table) Caleb. Yes. Lotty. (pwi ping her eyes) Don’t forget Jack; I’ve put him by himself in the top hutch, and Ida and Lotty and Caleb are together below. Caleb. No, we won’t forget Jack — {g^ing, holds out his hand) — for myself, Ida 1 12 TWO ROSES. Ida. AVhat do you mean? Oh, the rose! (givc 2 it to tiini) Now, don't come back till you’re called. Caleb. Ah, that’s mine. {Exit side door, k. i e.) Grant. Now, dear, what does Wyatt say ? Stop — you don’t think Caleb’s listening. ^ Ida. Listen 1 Caleb can’t do anything mean. Grant. Mean — well, I — I — {to Lotty) AVhat does Wyatt say, dear ? {behind the chair') Lotty. Say? He’s a darling, he’s good as he’s liandsome. Grant. Bless me, does he really]^have the assurance to say that ? Lotty. No, I say that. He says he was very wrong ; it was all his fault, and begs to be forgiven. I’ll write a fresh note and say it was all my fault, and ask him to forgive me. {in great glee, opens portfolio again, and pre- pares to icfrite,) Ida. No, Lotty, you mustn’t, {rises, goes to R- of Lotty). Grant. Certainly not. {advances, r.) Ida. Write, Dear Mr. AVyatt.” Lotty. Not dear Mr. Wyatt ?” Ida. No ! “ I do not cherish resentment Grant, {correcting) “I have been taught not to cherish resentment.” {lualks to and fro, r.) Ida. “And I will try and forget your cruelty.” Lotty. Cruelty ! bless his dear heart ! Ida. “Corneas soon as you please, you are forgiven.” Lotty. “ Forgiven !” “ Your ever true and devoted.” Ida. No, no, Lotty dear, “Yours — yours sincerely.” Lotty. {disappointed) “Sincerely, Lotty.” Ida. No, “ Charlotte Digby Grant.” Lotty. Charlotte Digby Grant. O dear ! {she puts it into an envelope. Knock at door) Grant. Come in. Enter Mr. Jenkins, d. f., a pic as ant-looking man ivith brown hair and sandy whiskers, and just that amount of ease that comes from being a great deal about ; not really vulgar. He carries a large leather case. Girls. Ah! it’s Our Mr. Jenkins ! TWO ROSES. 1 5 Grant. Ah, my humble friend. How is Our Mr.. Jenkins? Jenk. Oh, Our Mr. Jenkins is cheerful, thank’ee. Glad to see you, my dears, {puts doivn case) Did young Twigs advise me ? Grant. O yes, here’s your circular Jenk. Ah, young Twigs knows I always come here, and he thinks it a good joke to advise me. {takes out a bottle of wine) Here’s a bottle of something good I’ve had given me ; you shall have it. Grant. No, no. (Grant smiles) Jenk. O yes, you shall. Grant. Glasses, dear. (Ida brings them from cheffo)iicr^ r.) Lotty. You always have a bottle of wine given you. Jenk. Yes, people are fond of me. Ida. {aside to Lotty) I believe he buys ’em. Jenk. Nice change in the weather. Nature seem’d lately to ha\e taken a pretty good line for showers, and I hope she’s executed the order, and ’ll book a little fine weather forward. Grant. Find trade better ? Jenk. Always do well here. Put seven feather beds, into little Tom Doyle for nineteen pounds. That was a job Ida. So I should think. Jenk. Yes, they were cheap. I don’t do much in beds ; hosiery’s my line. I did a good stroke at Deacon’s — cut Stone out. Stone covers a deal of ground ; wherever you go there’s Stone before you — Stone’s on for Taylor and Bunks — mean people Taylor and Bunks. Stone’s a railer. Ida. At their meanness ? Jenk. No, rails. Don’t drive — has to pay for his bed. Grant. Don’t you ? Jenk. No. Don’t charge for your bed when you drive, only charge for your ho^se — man’s nothing. Ida. Flattering. Jenk. Yes. Took a good line at Baker’s Mills, down; in the old Man’s Lees ; all hands goi ng there, {knotvingly rubbing his ears with knuckles) Fine weather, I suppose. H TWO ROSES. moves everything ; I see your roses are in full work again. Lottv. (imitates him) Yes, yes ; they’re working over- time. Two thousand petals employed, (hands her letter to Ida, who goes to door and calls Caleb). This is tho house of York and Lancaster. Jenk. Got two landlords ? Re-enter Calei3 ; Ida gives him letter. Lottv. Did you never hear of the “Wars of the Roses ”? Jenk. No: I’ve heard of the “Loves of the plants.’^ How could roses fight ? — miglit do in a picture. Caleb.(r.) Then it wou Id be a drawn battle. l.OTTV. Sound the alarm, Ida. (Ida rings little hell) Jenk. Come in. (they laugh) Oh ! I see. (crossing to ia 'bh\ L.) Wliat’s the matter ? Lottv. Caleb made a pun. Jenk. Where? (they laugh) Oh, you confuse me so. How do you do, Mr. Deecie? Caleb, (r.) Well, thank’ee. Is your case very lieavy this time ? Jenk. Well, there are some samples I should be glad if Mr. Grant would let me leave. Grant is carejully dusting cork with brush of corkscrew ; dra ws cork as he speaks. Grant. My house is always at tlie disposal of Our i\Ir. Jenkins. (cork pops) Caleb. I shan’t be long, Lotty. (crosses in front up to .door, D.F., going out, tapping at side 7aith cane) Jenk. Why don’t you have a little dog, as they do in Ida. Mr. Jenkins ! (I'ises indignantly, and goes up to Caleb) Caleb. Never mind, Ida, if I can’t see the joke I can feel it. Jenk. Upon my word, I beg your pardon, I do indeed. I wouldn’t hurt the feelings of a ferret. Caleb. I know you wouldn’t \ I’ve been told you’re a good fellow. TWO ROSES. 15 Jenk. Who told you ? C^ALEU. {aside io him) The sample case. {Exit^ D. in f.l) Lotty. (at iumdG7ii) I believe I can see Jack waiting .at the trees yonder. (Ida joins her) Jenk. {opening case) I 7cnll take the liberty of leaving tliese, Mr. Grant. That’s a good sample of flannel. Grant. I dare say. {sipping ■loine) Take a glass of wine. Jenk. (taking out things) Thank you. Do you see .any change in me ? Grant. No. Why? Jenk. Don’t look anxious ? (admiring fiannel) Thoroughly shrunk. CiRANT. No. Are you in difficulty — debt ? Nothing — offer something in the pound ; you won’t feel it. I once offered something in the pound — ’twas nothing. Jenk. No. I’m going to be married, {takes ont some stockings; the Girls twii suddenly roiind ; he puts them .behind him in ccnfiisioni) Lotty. Ah ! we must see Our Mrs. Jenkins Jenk. You shall. {they timiaiuay again) Grant. Young? {sipping 7oine) Jenk. I haven’t asked her. I never encourage false- hood. {k 2 /ts ont large roll of calico) Grant. Plump? Jenk. She was ; {imth the stockings again) but she’s past that— a love heap — well made in the leg — very durable. Grant. Maiden lady? Jenk. Widow, Grant, (r.) I congratulate you. Jenk. (puts the things in a little pile) You’ll kindly let me leave these, as they make my case so heavy. Grant. Certainly. Jenk. You can give them away. Grant. Just so. A glass of wine? Jenk. Thank you. Will you come to the wedding? N ice party. Ida. Oh, do go, papa, (goes ro^md io R. of Grant) i6 TWO ROSES. Jfnk. We shall have Tcm Stewcarter, from the firm of Saddler, Mayer, and Rider, and Dick Tubbs, a com- mission man, who travels in boots. Ida. What w^ould you have him travel in ? Jenk. Well, I wanted him to come to our place and travel in socks and drawers and a few pieces of flannel. Lotty. How odd he’d look ! Jfnk. And there’ll be old Twirl, \vho travels in feathers. Grant, {nodding And tar. Jenk. Tar — and feathers? No! I don’t know any- body on the road who travels in tar and feathers. {siis L. of table) Lotty. Oh, there’s Jack ; let’s go to the gate. Grant, (starting) My dear child, do restrain yourself. Ida. Lotty, come here ; don’t let him think we are expecting him. Sit down to your work. (Lotty goes to saving machine, Ida sits at piano and plays) Jenk. Why, what’s the matter ? Grant. Nothing. A glass of wine? (Ida plays piano) Enter Wyatt, followed by Caleb, with a parcel, Wyatt carries a magazine and a fishing basket. They stay at the door. Wyatt, (after a pause) Good day. (glancing at Lotty. Ida boivs stiffly^ takes music stool, and sits the other side cf machine, Lotty tries to peep without being noticed) Jenk. Good day, how d’ye do? Wyatt. Ah, Our Mr. Jenkins. Egad, no one need ask how you are ; you look as cheerful as a love-apple. 1 can tell you a good place to take a line. Jenk. (taking out book) Where? Wyatt. The mill-stream. Look here, (puts basket on table. Aside) Won’t she speak? Grant, (smacking his lips) Trout — Beauties! Grant Jenkins take basket of fish to windoiv, look into it approvingly, Jenkins produces his cigar case, offers to Grant ; they smoke and chat apart, Lotty. (l.) May I lock up now^, Ida ? TWO ROSES. 17 Ida. (l.) Let him come here. Caleb passes and gees to ehess-bcard, and sets out ine7i^ aiways ecLng the bottc7ns to fnd the colour^ Ida. Don't you see us, Mr. Wyatt ? Wyatt. {joi7U7igtJu7n) Yes, I was waiting to hear you -am I forgiven ? Ida. It’s very hard to forgive you. Wyatt. As hard as to swim where there is no w^ater. (Lotty laughs. Ida iries to look vexed) Am I forgiven ? {kneels L. beiwee7i the two girls) Ida. Yes, Jack, but you must never do it again, {futs her hand C7i his ami) Lotty. No, you dear darling old Jack, you must never do it again, (taking his arm with both hands ; the girls look up in his face) N ow, proruise. Wyatt. I have done nothing, and I promise never to repeat it. Lotty. O Jack, you said the fault was yours. Wyatt. Yes, pet, you are mine. Lotty. But you wrote you wxre wrong. Wyai T. I w^as wrong when I wrote. Ida. Then wasn't your letter true ? Wyatt. True as yours, true as the camera — that reverses everything. Lotiy. He's laughing at us, Ida — he ahvays laughs at us. WYatt. Laugh at you! Yes, ^^ith joy. As Our Mr. Jenkins would put it, you look as if you travelled for Flora, and fed on your samples, (reads Jroni inagazine) One's like the rose, when June and July kiss One like the leaf-housed bud young May discloses, Sweetly 7/7/like, and yet alike in this. They both are roses.’' Lotty. Is that your own ? Wyatt. No, Caleb's ! (opens inagazine) Ida. Oh, isn't Caleb dreadfully clever? Wyatt puts inagazine on edge of table — the girls tack timst their heads to look over. i8 TWO ROSES. Grant, {looking at fish) Ida, Our Mr. Jenkins must sup 'with us. These, with a little dry sherry — Jenk. Tin expecting a fellow to give me a bottle of •dry sherry. You shall have it. Grant. No, no. Jenk. Yes, you shall. Caleb. Going to play, Ida ? Ida. {rises and crossing to Caleb) Yes ! {7'eading niaga- .zine as she goes) Oh ! isn’t this good, {sits opposite Caleb at the chess-table near window) Jenk. {up r. at wmdow. To Grant) Do you mean to say he plays chess ? Grant, {up r. at 7 aindoza) Yes, and plays well too. Jenk. {m wonder) Well, 1 can’t. (Caleb azid Ida arranging men) Wyatt, {sitting on stool vacated by Ida, l.) Going to work, Lotty ? LoTTY. {drumming on table ivith her left hand to draw Wyatt’s attentiozi to the absence of her ring) No. (Caleb holds two pieces to Ida to choose ; she does sOy and chooses a black piece) Caleb, {feeling the piece) White ! I play first. Pawn to King’s 4th. Jenk. How does he know ? Grant. Scratched them at the bottom. (Ida moves for hiniy and then makes her own move) Ida. Pawn to King’s 4th. (Lotty has been looking from her hand to Wyatt) Wyatt. Isn’t .your hand well ? Lotty. No. W YATT. {taking it) Poor hand ! {puts the rmg on her finger) Better now ? (Lotty. {kisses the ring, then looks up laughmgly into his face) Yes ! Caleb. King’s Knight to Bishop’s 3rd. {Ida znakes the move for him^ then^ after a pausCy her own) Ida. Pawn to King’s Bishop’s 3rd. Jenk. Dear me, it’s very wonderful. TWO ROSES. 19 Wyatt. Going to work now, Lotty ? Lotty. No, you try. (turns the sewing 7nachine towards him) Here — here are some pieces ; sew two together. Wyatt. Well, there’s my emblem; there’s yours, (takes from workbox on the table a piece of silk and a bit of linen) Caleb. Knight takes Pawn. (Ida makes the move for him ; then^ after a pause) Wyatt. You’re of the lace and trimming of the world. I of its weft and warp ; now we’ll be sewn together. Lotty. With a lock-stitch. Wire in ! (Wyatt looks zip half shocked^ half smiling) Learned that of the boys outside. I must do or say something wicked, (throwing herself back in her chair) I am so happy. Wyatt. Ah ! perhaps that was Eve’s case when she gathered the first apple. Caleb. Knight to Knight’s 5 th — Ida. (making her move) Pawn takes Knight. Caleb. If you do that you’ll lose the game. Ida. Pawn to Queen’s Bishop’s 4th. Jenkins has given Grant a cigar ; they are now smokmg, and as Wyatt turns the machine^ Jenkins saunters doivn to them^ looking admiringly at the sewing machine as Wyatt stitches the pieces together^ Lotty laughing at his awkward way of doing it, Jenk. (l.c.) Pretty thing a sewing machine, Wyatt, (turning sharp rounds in a half heroic way) I protest to thee, Our Mr. Jenkins, that this is an epitome of this world’s history. Little Eve thought, when she threaded her first needle, of the wonderful effects that would follow. Herald of rags and tatters, pomp and splendour, of weaving worms and writhing slavery ; a new world in arms and the old in panic, (turns handle) In a thousand workrooms this little machine is singing a histo^*y that goes far deeper than is recorded by Clarendon and Macaulay. Jenk. Clarendon and — . What is their line ? AVyatt. Refiners. Jenk. Who travels for them ? Wyatt. Old Lather Time. 20 TWO ROSES. Jenk. {joins Grant) Is he chaffing me? Lotty. Now you’ve done lecturing, let’s see if we are securely joined, (takes pieces a?id pal is them asu?ider) Wyatt. Oh dear ! is that an omen ? Lotty. No, Jack, nothing shall ever part us again. It was all my fault. Jack ; I did so want to say it. Nothing shall ever part us again. Wyatt. Nothing? Lotty. Nothing ! (taking 7iecdle-work out of basket)- Don’t speak to me for a minute. Jack, or else I shall want to cry. (be7ids down over wo7’k) Jenk. I say, Mr. Grant, do manage to come up to my wedding, (advances to c. ivith Grant) Grant. I would do anything to serve Our Mr. Jenkins, but a noble spirit never fears the truth. My income is- limited — very, and what I have I spend on my daugh- ters. I have no suitable apparel, and — and it would not be right to — you understand me. Jenk. Easy get over that. I’ve some samples that I promised to shew here, from Oakey, Moses & Co., they’ll just fit you. You shall have them. Grant. No, no ! J ENK. Oh, you shall, (takes out 7ioie book) Grant. Say no more. If I can help a friend I will. (goes Jip) Jenk. (taps Wyatt’s shoulder y whispers) Who’s your tailor ? — no jokes. I want to know. Wyatt. Scroggin, in the High-street. Jenk. Thank’ee. (to Grant) Sha’n’t be long. Going for the samples. Jenkins gets to door, when Grant becko7is hm to stop. Grant joms hm, a7id in actio7i asks for a loan, zuhich Jenkins very good-7iaturedly complies with, and see77img honoured by Grant’s condesce7i- sion. Jenkins exits, and Grant saunters off, l.c. Caleb. Mate. Ida. You always win. You must give me something next time — give me a castle. TWO ROSES. 21 Caleb. If I had one you should have it, and the broad lands too. Ida turns aiuay— picks up the hats, Caleb picks up fishing basket and follows her off ^ r.d. Lotty rises as if to go, and gets R. ^ Wyatt as Caleb a?id Ida go out Wyatt. Do you know, Lotty, I sometimes fancy the soul is like a robe of life ; cast on us with the rough and' vulgar, it’s like a leather jerkin, but with the sensitive .and gentle ’tis a delicate garment that gets sadly torn and ravelled in our scramble through the world. Lotty. Yes. Wyatt. And it seems the sweet office of woman to come with her love as with a needle and thread — I’m not joking — and sew up these grief-rents, these ragged places the thoughtless make in a loving life. Lotty. {putting down her work) Yes, only sometimes we make the rent worse, don’t we, and sometimes we tear the work ourselves, out of spite. Wyatt. Yes, and sometimes the love’s weak, and the "w ork comes all undone. (Ida peeps in at door) Ida. Lotty. Lotty. I’m coming, {goes,^ r.) Ida. Jack, we want you to take us out. Wyatt. Very well. {Exit Ida) Lotty. {returning) Jack ! Wyatt. Well ! Lotty. I will try {kneels r, of Wyatt) and be a good sempstress. I will sew you up very carefully. Jack, and the work shall not come undone. Wyatt A going io kiss her 7vhe?i Grant looks in; they stop; he turns back, as if he didiit see them kiss; she runs off, d.r. Wyatt gets hat to follow. Grant, {comes down to Wyatt) Wyatt, at the present moment my cash in hand is the paltry sum of four pounds eighteen shillings. \ ou will scarcely believe it. Wyatt. I can believe the eighteen shillings. Grant. You will be surprised at my saying so. I am going to be your debtor for ten pounds. 22 TWO ROSES. Wyatt. 1 am not surprised, but you will not be my debtor ; you never pay me, Mr. Grant, and what I lend you does no good. I want to save all I can to make a home for Lotty. (Lotty a7id Ida come to side door^ each trying to make the oilier enter firsts they having the fichm on) Share what we have when you like. Both Girls. We are ready. Grant. My dear boy. {presses haiid) Wyatt. Aye, and ready-witted. They go out, d.r. During the last line Furnival has blocked at door, come in, a7id when they are go7ie out Grant iur7is a7id sees hwi. Fur. Mr. Grant? Grant. Yes. Fur. Oh ! dear me 1 There is my card — perhaps you. expected me — may I look round ? Grant. Certainly. (Furnival looks at sa77iplers on wall) “Furnival, Solicitors.’' {rises) What mess am I in now ? Fur. Excuse me, you bought these in at your sale. Grant. Sir, I remember with pleasure that when they were put up no one would bid for them. Fur. Dear me ! {to say this he turns fro77i sa77ipler, but keeps the eye-glass through which he has looked un7noved) Grant. Except a Jew broker, who got bonnetted*- That chair my wife sold a ring off her finger to buy in- No one would bid against her, such was their great respect for 77ie, You know something of my affairs. Fur. Thoroughly ; IVe been engaged on them some time. Allow me to sit ? Grant. Certainly. They sit opposite each other, a7id during the sce7ie each uses a double eye-glass, and whe7i looking up f7‘077i papers both bep the eye-glasses tnwwvea, a7id look over at one another. Fur. {takes out pape 7 's — ha7ids 07ie) That is right, I think. You are Digby Grant, and distinctly related to De Chaperon ? Grant. Sir, it is the comfort of my life. Fur. Dear me ! you seem a strong man — good nerve — anything in that bottle ? Grant. Sherry. Fur. Good? Grant. Very. Fur. Take a glass. (Grant does so) Well now — perhaps you’d better take another. (Grant does so) Now you can bear it. That is all correct. Grant. Perfectly. Fur. I congratulate you. You are worth ten thousand a-year. Grant, {jumps tip) 1! {rises ^ throws off smoking cap ^ goes to window overcome) Fur. Ah, you ought to have taken another — or — {looks at him) perhaps you had — taken some before — try and keep cool. There is only one person between you and the whole estates of De Chaperon, that one person, if in existence, cannot be found — your claim will not be disputed. Grant. Can I take possession at once ? {at back of table) Fur. No, but soon — meantime I will do all I can for you. You may occasionally be without cash. Grant. I occasionally have cash, but am without as a rule. Fur. Dear me ! I have placed j[^ 2 ^ooo to your credit at the bankers in the town — you will excuse the liberty? Grant. Don’t mention it. Fur. I have also brought you a cheque book, so that you may use it at once. You’ll forgive me? Grant. Freely ! Fur. Then for the present I will say “ Good-bye.’’ Grant. Allow me to open the door. I can be humble ; the noble spirit is not inflated by prosperity. Fur. Dear me ! {Exit) Grant, {opens chequebook) Thank heaven, I shall now no longer be under any obligation to any one. Let me see — yes — a little cheque, {he signs four cheques) A future opens before me ; the public acknowledge wealth ; the 24 TWO ROSES. ministry influence. Who knows but by a careful selection of politics I may yet hide my grey hairs under a coronet, {knock) Come in. Enter Mrs. Cups with hank Jiotes, Mrs. C. O, Mr. Grant, I have got the money. Grant. My good woman, I wished to see you. If you will kindly sit down a moment, I will attend to you. {signs cheques) Enter Lotty and Ida, followed by Wyatt a7id Caleb, at side door, Lotty. Here, papa, how do you like us ? Grant. My dears, come close to me, and (cross) take off those things, Lotty. O, papa, we Grant. Nay, dear children, do as I bid you, take them off. (they do so wonderingly, Wyatt looks surprised) Grant. My dear children (rising) and — I know not why I should not say my friends — I have to some •extent deceived you. I was, like Timon, tired of the hollowness of the world, sick of its tinsel show, and I came here hoping to find more simple joys and humble though sincere friendship. I have not been deceived. I may mention as an instance the kind solicitude of Mrs. Cups. She was quite unaware that it was in my power to repay her fully ; she shall not go unrewarded. Mrs. Cups, a little cheque, (leaf's it prom book and hands it) I am about to return to that position to which I am by birth entitled. My daughters are about to take their place in society, among the noblest and the best. Jenk. (a little titsy^ enters quickly^ with a bottle and a badly folded parcel) Here’s the dry sherry, and here are the kicksies ; they’ll fit you. (displaying a pair op light trousers and a white waistcoat) Grant, (is a little taken aback) My worthy friend, I was in jest. Our Mr. Jenkins, a much esteemed though hum- ble friend, has a good heart. I have on various occasions noticed that he has, under the disguise of disburdening his sample case, left various things for my daughters, ■such as — as — shall be nameless. He cannot be TWO ROSES. 25 expected to possess that refinement that would have made it clear to him that even if we required such aid •our pride would not have allowed us to accept it ; but he meant well, and I ask him to accept — a little cheque. Mr. Deecie, with whom I deeply sympathise, lent my daughters a piano ; he did not mean to offend. I thank him — a little cheque. (Caleb rises indig7iaiit. Grant rises) As for that young man Wyatt, though a plebeian, I would, had I found him worthy, have formed an alliance with him, but he is not ; only a few minutes back, to test him, I asked him to lend me ten pounds — he would have been repaid in thousands — but he has the worst vice of the vulgar — no faith, no confidence-^1 will have no more to do with him. (Lotty goes to Wyatt. Grant takes her hatid and crosses her ill front of table L. where she sinks in grief Ida goes behind and consoles hei') I am indebted to him in some small sums — twenty, perhaps thirty pounds. I wish never to see him again. I clear the score — a little cheque, {takes out cheque and offers it) Tableau, Act drop moderately quick. ACT II. A room in Mr. Jenkins’s house, Wyatt’s lodgings. On the table are oranges^ nuts^ and a decanter of wine^ and glasses. On the harmonium Caleb’s violin. It is Sunday afternoon^ Caleb is playing hamnonium^ and Mr. Jenkins is singing a bar or two as the curtain rises, Mrs. Jenkins in her wedding dress of silver grey silk, white mittens, white collar, little black silk apron; she is very neat, but methodical, and displays great fear of soiling her dress. She listens with a kind of fat, dreamy devotion, her head thrown up as she waves it ffom side to side. Mrs. J. Edward, with your voice, why don’t you sing in chapel? Jenk. Because I haven’t Caleb to play, {crosses and fills glass) 26 TWO ROSES. Mrs. J. Ah, Snookletoe had a fine voice. He was a cloister in the Abbey once, now he’s an arch angel. Wyatt. One to Our Mrs. Jenkins ; punning, and on Sunday too. We w’ant Ida to sound the alarm. Jenk. I dare say, though you don't talk of ’em, you often think of your two roses, as you called them, Wyatt. Wyatt. I protest to thee, Our Mr. Jenkins Caleb. Order ! Jack’s going to lecture. Wyatt. Give that fellow a glass, Jenks. {in mock heroic style') Now, I protest, I say, that if one makes a great show of his feelings ’tis often like a coat of paint, that a little time wears off ; but true affection makes small show but like a vein in marble goes right through a man, and neither sudden violence nor slow time can wear it away. Caleb, {solemnly) Hear ! hear ! Jenk. I can never tell whether you two are serious or not. Wyatt. In downright diabolical earnest, I. All my thoughts are edged with black ; every jesting word has a margin of sorrow, like a comic song on mourning paper. Mrs. J. {looks at watch. To Jenkins) Edward, are you going to dress yourself, or must I go to chapel alone? Jenk. Well, if you put it in that way, I’d rather you went alone, my darling. Caleb. Rather you went alone, my darling. (Mrs. Jenkins at Caleb) Wyatt. Our Mrs. Jenkins, may I have the pleasure ? They drink wine together with great solemnity^ she being particularly careful not to soil her dress, Mrs. j. Do you mean to change your clothes, Edward ? If Snookletoe had worn striped trousers on Sunday I’d have left him. Jenk. Ah ! striped trousers have lost their effect* (rises) Well, get me some hot water, dear. Mrs. j. How can I in this dress ? Jenk, Well, don’t wear it. Mrs, j. Were we not married in this dress ? Jenk. We? Yes ! Well I was not an important item^ in the ceremony — we were. But you need not remind me of it every week. TWO ROSES. 27 Mrs. J. Didn't you choose the colour ? Jenk. I did. I believe the stool of repentance is covered with silver grey silk. Mrs. J. O, Edward ! am I not your wife ? Jenk. I can't deny it. Caleb. He wishes he could. {gives a scrape at fiddle, Mrs. Jenkins looks mdignant)- Mrs. j. I think, Mr. Wyatt, you look thin. I'm afraid you fret. Wyatt. Mrs, Jenkins) Do I look very haggard?' Has every evil from Pandora’s box rumpled my face ? Jenk. I wonder they let those Pandoras have a box in a respectable theatre. Mrs. j. Please not to make those allusions before me, Edward, {to Wyatt) My dear, may you always look as handsome and live as long as you do now, and be a comfort to your dear mother, who through many years of pain and trouble has brought you to it. Wyatt. I vow, Our Mrs. Jenkins Caleb, Order for Jack ! Wyatt. I vow by the Cestus of Venus that encircled less beauty than I now gaze on Mrs. j. Ah, it's a pleasure to be looked at by some people. Wyatt. I vow that if ever Our Mr. Jenkins ever- should — give up the ghost. Jenk. Give up — cut it, I never had a ghost. Mrs. j. Edward ! Flesh is grass, Mr. Wyatt, Jenk. (aside, luith a glance at her) I wish it was. I'd go haymaking to-morrow. Wyatt. I would lay my fDrtunes at your feet. Caleb. No, we'd have her between us. Jack. Jenk. Form a joint-stock company, with power to* increase your number. I’ll go and have a smoke. (rises, crossing itp, l.c.) Mrs. j. Edward, you'll do no such thing. I'm not going to have everyone in the pew sniffing as they did last Sunday. 28 TWO ROSES. Jenk. {fo Wyatt, r.) Isn’t she a lovely warning? '{turns to her) Will you get me some hot water ? Mrs. J. You’re always wanting hot water. Caleb. And he’s always in it. Jenk. Well, I’m waiting, darling. Caleb. He’s waiting, darling. Mrs. J. {quickly) Do you allow that young man to call me darling ? Jenk. Yes, I do, it’s too much for me alone Mrs. j. Ugh ! {turns aw a}') Jenk. Ah! {Exit Jenkins, d.r.u.e. ; Wyatt bows to Mrs Jenkins and drinks ; Caleb goes up to piano) Mrs. j. {to Wyatt) That’s a very impudent young man, and he don’t seem conscious of his affliction. They ‘say pity the poor blind ; but he seems determined not to feel his own suffering, which is most impious ; for when tribulation comes we ought to tribulate, and not fly in the face of Providence and be happy. Wyatt. Ah, Caleb’s a very good fellow. It was won- derful how he nursed me when I was ill. He went about the room like a woman. He never made the least noise, stayed by my bed night after night, and never seemed tired. Mrs j. Well, it is wonderful what he can do; but he treats me with no more respect than a monthly nurse does a single gentleman. And the things he says to me .are shameful, (Caleb goes to his violin)^ and you know walls have ears. Caleb. And mouths too, by the way my tobacco goes. I believe you chew. Mrs. j. Now, did you ever hear? It’s the gals that takes the things. My ham goes — my beef goes Caleb. And as for your tongue, it’s going from morning to night. (Mrs. Jenkins gets tip and moves a step towards him) Caleb. Ah, halloa ! Our Mrs. Jenkins got new boots; I thought I heard a strange creak a little while ago. TWO ROSES. 29. Mrs. J. Well, did any one see the like ! (she goes o?i tiptoe behind him^ as though to take hold of his ear) Caleb, (how in ha?id) Ah ! you dare lay a finger on me, and by my virgin honour I’ll scream ! Jack, isn’t she a roll of music ? He places his hatid daintily beneath her chin with his fingers bent, as though she were a viol, and drazas the bozv across herzvaistba7id,zohistling a scale Mrs. J. O, Mr. Deecie, do mind my dress, (looks at watch) Where is that man? (goes to door to stairs') Edward, have you changed your clothes ? (Exit, R. door 2 e.) Caleb. Jack, the silver grey mare’s the better horse. Wyatt. Ah, poor Jenkins has made a mistake. It’s, a case of jack-boot and carpet-slipper, both well in their way, but they don’t match. The thing is, will the slipper be pieced out into a boot, or the boot cut down to a slipper. Caleb. The boot’ll be cut down, Jenkins must be reduced. A man can’t raise a woman. Jack, but the woman can cut down the man ; and yet they say marriages are made in Heaven. Wyatt. It’s a deuce of a long voyage, Caleb, and perhaps like some other imports, they suffer in the transit. It’s jolly to be a bachelor. (l)ehind table) Caleb. Yes, it’s jolly to walk when you can’t ride^ (scrape) Wyatt. Put down that cursed fiddle. Caleb. Jack, you’re breaking your heart about Lotty, and you try to gloss it over, Wyatt. Poor Lotty, we might have been happy if it hadn’t been for her sycophant father, with his family con- nections, as if birth wasn’t a mere accident. Caleb. Don’t see it. Jack. If you sow wheat, is it an accident that wheat comes up ? Wyatt. No. Caleb. Then if you sow Robinsons, is it an accident, that you don’t get young Smiths or Joneses ? 30 TWO ROSES. Wyatt. I mean that idea of a dull clod boasting about the blood of the Howards or the Russells running in his veins. Why a noble river may sluice a ditch, but it’s a ditch still. Neither Poole nor the Herald Office can make a gentleman. Caleb. Jack, you’re a humbug. Lotty’s among :swells, so you hate them. Wyatt. Not I, my boy. (r. of table) I feel grateful when I see a nobly-dressed swell. There’s a fine thoughtfulness of others about him ; such fellows as you •and I spend our money on books and beer, and pamper our wits and our wallets for our own special enjoyment. But a swell he gets himself up for others, and he makes himself fine for me to look at. He pays himself for buttons and rings and chains for me to admire. He charges me nothing to see him ; I don’t have to get a ticket, but he comes out and I have a front place gratis. He don’t even want me to applaud, but goes on per- severinglyin spite of the debts and pains, making himself beautiful to see, and perhaps while I’m enjoying his patent boots he’s suffering from corns. O, he’s a noble creature is a swell, (sits in chair) Caleb. Very good song, very well sung; but the chorus is still you’re a humbug, Jack. The fact is you are as weak as the swell, and you try to make a show of contempt. We are very like a lot of fiddles ; some are big, some are little, some sound, some cracked, but there’s a certain old fiddler (points donni) who manages to get the sam.e tune out of us all. Wyatt, (pause — cracks lu at nut) PoorLotty! Caleb. Poor Jack ! Wyatt. I wonder whom she’ll marry. Caleb. Some swell. I wonder who’ll marry you ? AVyatt. (putting doivn crackers) I shall never marry. Caleb, (gives a little sc7'ape) Ah ! Wyatt. Put down that cursed fiddle, (sits m arm-chair) Caleb, am I a vain man ? Caleb. No. Wyatt. If I said I thought a lady had fallen in love Avith me would you call me vain then ? Caleb. No TWO ROSES. 31 Wyatt. Well, I believe a lady has Caleb. What makes you think so ? Wyatt. AVhy, you know how very attentive Our Mrs. Jenkins Caleb, (scrape) Oh, shade of Potipher, kisnk the silver grey mare ? Wyatt. Stuff ! will you listen ? {in arm-chair) Caleb. Like an echo. Wyatt. Mrs. Jenkins is not a liberal woman. Caleb. I believe she spends her leisure in trying to discover how to boil half an egg. Wyatt. Well, hasn’t it seemed odd to you that lately I’ve only had to express a wish, and it’s been attended to ? This strange lady’s brought the cornucopia, and Mrs. Jenkins only held out her apron. Caleb. And I’ll warrant it wasn’t a small one. Wyatt. The cornucopia ? Caleb. No, the apron. Wyatt. Well, Caleb, I’ve put an end to it. The lady made the silver grey promise not to tell, but Caleb. The silver grey was a woman. Wyatt. And behaved as sick. So I’ve given Our Mrs. Jenkins a note for the lady, saying I loved once and shall never love again. Caleb, (plays and sings) “ Nobody ax’d you, sir, she said, sir, she ” Wyatt. Caleb, Sunday. Caleb, (puls down violin) I forgot. So you think you’ve put an end to the affair. Wyatt. Certainly ; what do you think ? Caleb. Well, I think Wyatt. Well, what ? Caleb. But I 07 ily think Wyatt. Out with it. Caleb. Well, I think the lady will be pleased with the note. Wyatt. Pleased ! (rises ^ goes to fire) I don’t see it. Caleb. No, that’s the great advantage of being blind. I do. 3 ^ TWO ROSES. E7iter at back door Jenkins carry mg a lot of do fheSy h7‘ozvn paper rounds thein, Jenk. AVyatt. {tip l. of table) W YATT. Dear boy. {rises) Jenk. Dont you remember me when I was a jolly fellow ? Wyatt. I don’t remember when you weren’t. Jenk. Look at me now. \Vyatt. I do, with pleasure. Jenk. Wyatt, I’m wasting away like a scraped horse- radish. Wyatt. Why, what’s the matter ? Jenk. Mrs. Jenkins ; and I’ve got her badly. How I did long to gain possession of that woman, and now I’ve got her, I’m like a thief with a big bank note, I don’t know what to do with her. Caleb. ’Tis a pity you can’t cash her. Two hundred pounds. Jenk. {displaying clothes) Look here, I went to the tailors and ordered a blue coat, a genteel pair of checked kicksies, and a buff >vaistcoat ; she’s countermanded the order, and look what they’ve sent me. Wyatt, {lifts np coat) Black frock coat, eh ! (r. of table'} Jenk. Go on ! Wyatt. Black vest — rather clerical. Jenk, Go on ! 1 {Caleb goes up stage) Wyatt. Black trousers, too. Any one dead ? Jenk. No, go on ! ! ! Wyatt, {getting to bottom of parcel) White choker. Jenk. Twelve on ’em! Wyatt. What does this mean ? Jenk. It means meetings, it means holding the plate; am I fit to hold the plate ? The knife and fork’s more in my way. Wyatt. Our Mr. Jenkins, you’re married. Jenk. They’ll think on the road I am getting subscrip- tions for an anti-beer association. When I hold out my plate at the commercial table the fellows ’ll put ha’pence into it ; they’ll call me Skinner, Fox and Eaton’s chaplain, and old Dick Bosky at night will say, ‘‘ Perhaps the TWO ROSES. 33 • reverend gent in the choker’ll tip us a comic song.” I shouldn’t wonder if they call me Bishop Jenkins, and ask me if I’ve got thirty-nine articles in my sample case ; if my \)xmc\p als are orthodox, and whether I’ve taken holy orders. Wyatt. You’ll look well in black, Jenks. Jenk. Well ! Here was old Dick Bosky, he’s only in London once in three months, had written to me to ask me to come over and meet Barton and Dan Cradle — JMoses Cradle — not E. Moses, Oakey Moses of Norton Court, and we were going to . open half-a-dozen of phiz, and now Mrs. Jenkins wants me to put on these and go and hold the plate. I’ll be^ Wyatt. Hush ! Jenk. Can you lend me a newspaper? Wyatt. Yes, here’s Saturday’s. Jenk. Any day’s, {folds it up into a parcel about seve 7 t inches sqiiare^ a7id then puts it into a part op the browu pape7^ Got a piece of red tape ? Wyatt. Yes ; what are you up to ? Jenk. You’ll see. {ties it up) Doesn’t that look like a deed going to a lawyer’s? {crosses a7id dips pen in ink) Wyatt. Something. Jenk. Just direct it. F. Furnival, Esq., Ely Place. Wyatt. What’s the joke ? Jenk. ’Tisn’t a joke, it’s a subterfuge. (Wyatt Wyatt. What’s the subterfuge? Jenk. Mrs. Jenkins knows you have particular business with Furnival ; and she’ll stand anything to please you, if it don’t cost money, so I shall go with this for you and call on Bosky, and see Barton and Moses. Cradle. Wyatt. And open the phiz — take care ! Jenk. We’ll drink your health. Wyatt. And Mrs. J.’s. Mrs. J. {without^ loud and sharp) Edward ! Jenk. No, we won’t. r.u.e.) Wyatt. Jolly to be a bachelor, Caleb; go out when you like, come home when you like, see whom you like, wear what you like, do what you like. Poor Jenkins ! Caleb. Poor Jack ! Chorus, humbug. 34 TWO ROSES. Wyatt. Ah ! hearts are like bets, you may win a dozen and never get paid one. Caleb. I do wish you’d break out into a good manly growl, and not keep snarling, Jack. Wyatt. Well, I will. Plainly, Caleb, that faithless girl has nearly made a bad man of me. I begin to have a feeling that’s very much like hate; why, I can almost feel her 'kisses on my neck, and — Oh, this is a damn’d wicked world. Caleb. That’ll do nicely ; growl to be repeated four times a-day, until the patient’s better. Mrs. J. {outside) Yes, sir, he’s at home, but strange enough Enter Mrs. Jenkins and Furnival, r.u.e. Mrs. J. He’s just sent a deed on to you. Wyatt, {aside) Whew ! Jenkins’ll get smoked. Fur. a deed ! Oh ! — dear me ! {looks inquiringly at Wyatt) Mrs. j. But I daresay the girl can catch him. Wyatt. No, don’t do that ; it’s not very important. Mrs. j. Not important ! and you send him on a Sunday, when I wanted Wyatt. Well, not very important, and there’s no knowing which way he’s gone, {aside) Jenkins has done it. Mrs. j. I shall send the girl after him. (hows stiffly^ and goes out) Fur. You’ll excuse me calling on Sunday, Mr. Wyatt hut I don’t look on this matter as an affair of business it’s a kind of duty, and I would lose no time, {takes out papers^ looks at iheni through double eye-^lass^ as in Act /. and looking at Wyatt it without moving it) Will you kindly look at these? By-the-bye, what is it you’ve sent to me? Wyatt, {smiling) Well — eh — nothing. The fact is Mrs. Jenkins has a husband. Fur. Dear me ! Wyatt. And consequently Mr. Jenkins is married, and TWO ROSES. 35 Fur. I see, he’s overdone it. That woman is too much amongst one. Poor fellow ! (looks over papers^ ihen looks tip) Send Mr. Jenkins whenever you like. Women, Mr. Wyatt — women are like boots, very useful, very desirable, but a torment if you get a misfit. You’re young, every woman’s a rose to you ; but, sir, you’ll find as she blossoms she opens more and more, and gold’s at her heart ; then the petals fall one by one, and soon there’s nothing but stalk and thorns. (pends over paper^ Wyatt. Sir, you exactly express my sentiments. Fur. (looks up) Dear me, sorry for it. Will you, as near as you can, fill in those dates ? (hands paper^ and perhaps, while you do so, you’ll allow me to look round. Wyatt. Certainly. Fur. (rises) A portrait of your father ? Wyatt, (al papers) Yes. Fur. Dear me ! Yes, I see the likeness. Nothing bad, very amiable, a little weak ; under good influences might be everything noble, under bad might be ruined. Wyatt. He was. Fur. Dear me, sorry I commented, (looks hard at Wyatt, then at picture) Very like. Wyatt. You want the date when I first met him. Fur. (looking with glass) iN.B, He only uses his glass to look at objects close to him) Yes, just so. (looks at portrait) Your mother, I suppose. Wyatt. Yes, God bless her! Fur. You may well say that ; a sweet face, sort of woman to dote on her children ; wouldn’t want to vote, trouble more about her jam going mouldy than the Ministry being defeated. “ Heaven in her eye, and in her hands are keys.’^ Ah, Crabbe, out of date. (check sunlight) Wyatt. Yes, this is all right ; you seem to be getting at the truth. Fur. Yes, I think so. Just kindly see if I have your information all right in the third paper — (looks at little picture) Dear me — two roses 1 It’s not exactly — (Jooks 36 TWO ROSES. with glass) Oh, I see — Lotty — work of a younger sister ? Wyatt. Of a younger sister, but not mine. Fur. Dear me ! O, yes, yes, I see — {looks at Caleb. and listens to him as he plays very softly all through scene) Charming. Wyatt, {at papers). The name is spelt with three ds. Fur. O, just so, please alter it — {sees cheque tender case) — Canterbury Bank. Digby Grant ! How came you to put this cheque in a case ? Wyatt. A mere whim. Did you know Grant ? Fur. Well ! — eh — eh. Did you ? Wyatt. Oh, yes, Lotty’s father, {check battens) Fur. Oh ! Wyatt. That’s all I can do, and you’ve got it in good train, I think, {giving hack papers) Fur. I think so. {puts them up) Wyatt. Come along, Caleb, we’ll go to tea ; and, Mr.. Furnival, perhaps you will stay and have some tea with us. I am sure my mother will be pleased to see you. Fur. Certainly! with pleasure, {casting a glance at the little picture) Her father ! dear me ! Wyatt, Furnival and Caleb door to room, Mrs. Jenkins opetis door and looks m carefully ^ then to sotneone outside. Mrs. J. {speaking off) Yes, they have gone in to tea, dear. Enter Lotty m beautiful walking dress a?id zv earing a lot of pier, Lotty. You’re sure he won’t come out. Mrs. J. (r.) Not for half an hour, my dear. I’ve been expecting to see you some time ; won’t you come to the fire? Lotty. No, thank you. I walked, and I’m warm ; and, oh, Mrs. Jenkins, I’m never coming any more. Mrs. j. Why not, my dear? Lotty. O something has happened — I shall break my heart, {taking out handkerchief then brings out parcel) And didn’t you say he wanted silver forks? TWO ROSES. 37 Mrs. J. Yes, my dear, as if I could afford it, such times as these. Lotty. Dreadful times, aren’t they? There are the forks. (Mrs. Jenkins takes parcel and ope?is it) Could I get just one little peep of him through the keyhole ? Mrs. J. If he’s this side of the room. (Lotty looks) How she is in love with him ; and something like lo\ e it is {looks at forks) — real silver — hall marked, (pinng ladder half down) Lotty. I can see Jack’s leg — no, that’s an old gentle- man — oh, that’s Jack handing a lady some cake. How well he hands cake. Now he’s gone. You won’t tell him I brought the forks, {coining back) Mrs. j. My dear, he shan’t know but what they’re my own. Lotty. How kind. Is there anything else he wants ? Mrs. j. (c.) He’s al vays wanting things got for his mother, and he says he’ll pay me extra rent if I’ll get ’em, but I can’t. Lotty. (r.c.) O, I’ll pay for them, only don’t let him know. Mrs. j. (c.) Ah, you’ve a gold mine of a heart — he ought to be very grateful, but he shan’t know a word. I’ll charge him the extra, and he’ll think I bought them myself. Lotty. {up at mantelpiece) You are so kind. Which is the pipe he smokes most ? Mrs. j. That one at the bottom. Lotty. What, that nasty — no, I don’t mean that — the dark one ? Mrs. j. Yes- my dear, and nasty enough it is, I think. Lotty. {takes it down daintily in her gloved hand) Will you look if it snows, Mrs. Jenkins? (Mrs. Jenkins goes to windoid) Oh, how dreadfully it smells. No~ I — I ought to like the smell of it. {she kisses the pipe and shudders) Oh, how wicked I am to go like that at Jack’s pipe, {puts it hack) Mrs. j. No, my dear, it don’t snow now. Lotty. There wasn’t anything else I was to bring, was there ? o TWO ROSES. Mrs. J. No; but dear me, I'd nearly forgotten some- thing. Here's a letter for you ; I've had it a week. Lotiy. I thought you didn’t mention Mrs. J. Well, my dear, I didn’t exactly. I only said a lady did call — but I said nothing about her being a you72g lady. Ready at lio/its, Mrs. Jenkins ctases wiiido^o- mrtams^ tJwi sits on music-stool^ while Lotty reads^ her letter by the fii'e-light^ on her Jznees. Lotty. (ppe7is letter^ Jack don’t improve in his writing,. (7‘eads to herself) Dear Lady^ jojgive meP'^ How kind' of Jack to ask to be forgiven before he says anything., “ 1 know not by what meaiis 1 have gamed so strong a hold' on the affectmis of a strajtgerf — what a vain old goose he must be ! — “ but I can only return it with sincere thanks. The lady is very glad to hear it, Jack. “ ./ have loved once.^^ That means me. “ 1 thought her true., buc she jorsook me ! I have suffered much from jalsehoodf — how wicked of Jack to say I was false ! — and i shall never love again Caleb, {loudly within) Stop lecturing and give us some cake, Jack. Lotty. {runs and kneels at keyhole again) Lecturing! bless him ! Mrs. J. Well, i: any one ever was in love, she is. Lotty. {on her knees., wipes her eyes) Oh. Jack, I do wish you knew how I love you. Grant, (without) The first-floor front, you say. Lotty. Oh, {jumping up) there’s my father; put me somewhere out of the way. (Mrs. Jenkins looks aghast) Lotty. O, do, do, do — please do, I wouldn’t have him see — {tap at door. Lotty goes to window nearest the audience and wraps hersel) up in curtain. Mrs. j. Come in. Enter Grant and Ida. Grant is now finely dressed and has an imposing appearance. Ida. dressed exactly like Lotty {N.B. — He is now De Chaperon, bnt through the piece the pari will be marked Grant) TWO ROSES. 39 Grant. Is Mr. Wyatt in ? Mrs. J. Yes, sir, he’s at tea. (recognises him) Oh, dear me, Mr. de Chaperon, (curtseys to him and then to Ida) Well, this is an honour. Grant. Will Mr. Wyatt be long ? Mrs J. Oh, no, sir ; he wouldn’t think of keeping you waiting. And to think I should have the honour. IVe often seen you at the meetings, sir, and only last week I remember your addressing me and five thousand more sufferers, when we sat squeezed up in Exeter Hall. Ah, what a beautiful speech you made. I fancy I see you now appealing the audience. But to think I should have the honour, (curtseys) Grant. Will you be kind enough to tell Mr. W^yatt I am here ? Mrs. JenkIns is about to curtsey and speak, when he- looks severely at her, and she goes out at door to stairs. Grant. Do you wish to speak to this man Wyatt, that you’ve come with me, Ida ? Ida. (indifferently) No. Grant. What folly is this, what folly is this ? Do you mean him to see you, or do )^ou not ? • Ida. I care nothing whether he secs me or not; I told you I should come with you, and Eve come. Grant. What folly ! For what purpose ? AVyatt. {jvifliout) Very well, Mrs. Jenkins, Til be th^'ve in a minute. Ida. ’Twas worth coming, if but to hear his chccri'Ui voice again. Grant. Ida, you annoy me very much, you do indeed. You are not like Lotty. Id.^. No, indeed, papa. Had I been Lotty, I would have married Jack in spite of you. Grant. I would have cast you off. I would have driven you from my door. Ida. I should liave been proud to be cast off for such a man. Poor Lotty lacks spirit. Jack is worth fifty of the noodles we meet now. 40 TWO ROSES. Grant. Why, what folly is this ? Have you not every- thing ! — money, jewels, servants, carriages, horses ? Ida. I was happier playing chess with Caleb, and walking about the green lanes with Jack. Grant. Happier ! Great Heaven ! with a poor blind man and a knave of a scribbler. (the room grows a little da^'ker') Ida. (starts up indignant) Papa, don’t say that again! no ill word oi Jack. I said just now I’d leave your house for him ; that’s not true ; I could not give up what I have, I could not bear to be looked down on, nor would I see Lotty marry him, for I know she would only have a life of miserable regret. I’m proud as you. Grant. My dear, that is the best part of you — I — I — admire your pride; but why have you come here ? Ida. Because I cannot trust you, papa. I would not have you see him alone. I know you do not always speak the truth. Grant. Ida, how dare you ! how dare you ! (grandly) how dare you ! (by this the room is a little darker) Wyatt, (without) Will you kindly open the door ? (door opens) Thank you. (Wyatt enters imth lamp in hand^ zoliich he places on table^ and in doing so says — ) Sorry to keep you, Mr. Chippering. (then looking up) Grant ! (during this Ida has gone to seat at back oj table ^ and the fire screen almost hides her. Grant bonus stiffly) To what strange cause am I indebted for the honour of this visit ? Grant. I am glad you feel that it is an honour. The high esteem in which the governing class is held by the working population is the safeguard of British freedom. I am glad you esteem it an honour. Wyatt. Shall you be long, because my mother is waiting. Grant. The word mother touches a chord that vibrates in every noble bosom. England owes much to her mothers. Wyatt. Much, About twenty millions, I think. Let TWO ROSES. 41 me offer you a chair. There was a time when you made me very welcome. He places chair a7id then C7vsses so that his hack is titrned to the spot where Lotty is concealed^ arid Grant faces it Ida. Grant, Wyatt. Lotty Grant. I did. I have held out my hand to the lowliest. I held out my hand to you. Wyatt, {softly) You did, and I put money into it. Grant, (itot noticing But we will not refer to that. You asked to what strange cause you were indebted for this visit ; I wish I could call it strange, but I cannot, for human nature is ever selfish. Wyatt. You of course know your motives. Grant. I refer, sir, to yours; you were — I do not wish you to stand, Mr. Wyatt. Wyatt, {smiling Thank you, I prefer it. Grant. You were, I was about to remark, at one time, in some sort of way, to some extent, engaged to my daughter Charlotte. (Wyatt bows assent) Now, I thought the last time I had the pleasure ot seeing you, that it was fully understood that our connection was completely at an end. (Wyatt botus) But it is with grief I find that — (Wyatt here tooks anxious) — that — that you have presumed on that past fancied affection, and ar3 still trying to work on the gentle nature of my child. Wyatt. I must trouble you to be a little cleaier. Grant. I forbade all correspondence of any kind between you ; you have disobeyed my commands ; you have eluded my vigilance ; you have written to her. Wyatt, {tboughtfulty) Written ? Grant. Do not imagine such letters would have any effect ; but I will not suffer her peace and happiness to be disturbed — by your appealing to her tender nature, speaking of old and now, thank heaven, forgotten love — and begging her to see you again. It is unmanly, sir. I am glad to see by your silence that you are ashamed. 42 TWO ROSES, Wyatt. No, but I am a little puzzled. Have you seea this letter ? Grant. I have it with me. Wyatt. May I be permitted ? Grant. I came to return it. {hands it) Wyatt, {pleased^ but coolly) And you say Lotty has given up all thought of me ? Grant. Miss Charlotte is quite conscious of her girlish mistake. But a letter of that kind naturally affects her — she pities you. Wyatt. And you took this from her a few days back > Grant. She handed it to me yesterday. Wyatt. Bless her ! It was very kind of you to bring me this. It is a direct denial to all you’ve said. It is certain proof that Lotty has not forgotten me, and. wealth hasn’t spoiled her. Grant, {hcilf fearjul) What folly is this ? {moves uneasily in chair) WWatt. You have made a slight mistake. This is the letter I wrote to Lotty the last day we met, the day we parted; she has treasured it up, and you have unwittingly become love’s messenger. What heedless haste v/as yours ! "Why, far from writing, I did not — do not know where you live. Grant. I see. {rises) I’ve made a mistake. 1 — I am sorry I troubled you. {goin^ Wyatt. One minute. You have settled your business; I have a word to sa)a On the night we parted, you said you asked a loan of me to test me — that was false. Grant. Sir 1 Wyatt. Be patient, I’ve not done. You said I should have been repaid in thousands — that was false. You had suddenly become possessed of money, and were glad to get rid of old debts. ; Grant. No more of this — I paid you, sir — I paid you. {gomg) You took my cheque, {pttls on Ins hat) Wyatt. But I did not take your money. Here is your cheque — I kept it, and will keep it as a memorial. There is your own character — “Proud, boastful, mean and ungrateful,” and your own name signed to it TWO ROSES. 45 Grant. Recall your words, you — you — How dare you {cooler) how dare you — {grandly) How dare you^ sir 5' {here Lotty in terror steps from curtain^ hut only a little) Wyatt. Dare ! I dare nothing in speaking thus to you. Courage only dares in meeting courage. I would have said what I now say on that day, but your daughters were present, and for their sake I spared you. I would not have them know what a poor false knave their father was. Grant. Hold your tongue, sir — you — you — you — * lie — lie Wyatt. What ! I never told a falsehood in my life ; beg my pardon, or Grant, {goings r.) What, beg your pardon ! folly — folly ! Wyatt. Beg my pardon, or Grant, {excitedly) Absurd ! you’re a low fellow. Wyatt. There ! He is going to strike when IuOtty steps !jr~ ward to arrest hts arm^ and Grant, seeing her^ starts hacky holding up his arm. Ida, Grant. Lotty. Wyatt. Grant, (with his eyes fixed on Lotty) Stay. I beg your pardon, {boiving and taking off hat) Tableau. You say you have never written to my daughter? Wyatt. Never since that day. Grant. And never met her ? Wyatt. Never. Grant. And she has not been here ? Wyatt. I have no lady visitors. Grant. None? {he tvipes his eyes as ij in pairt) Wyatt. None. Stay — a lady, who for some reason- esteeming me does call, but I have never seen her. 44 TWO ROSES. Grant. Well I am sorry we had high words, {offers his hand^ and as he does so again wipes his eye as if in paiii) Wyatt, {takes his hand) What’s the matter ? Grant. A bit of dirt, I think. I felt a twinge when you raised your hand, {crosses r.c., shakes handkerchief) Wyatt. Allow me — perhaps I may see it. {takes lamp ana looks intently at his face) Grani'. I must be quick — be quick — my brougham is at the corner of the street. Lotty takes the hint and is stealing off when the door to stairs opens — she stops. Grant starts. Wyatt. Is it so bad ? Enter Caleb, d.r.u.e. down c.l. Grant, {relieved) Thank heaven he’s blind. (Lotty steals off; Caleb listens Wyatt, Gone? Grant, {himself again) Yes — gone ! Caleb. You’ve friends, Jack ? {comes tip and sits on) edge of table) Wyatt. Only Mr. Grant, {putting down the lamp) Caleb. But the lady ? Wyatt, {inquiringly of shrugs his shoulders) You’re mistaken. Caleb, {quietly shaking his head) No, I’m not. I know the step. Ida. {steps forward) Yes, Caleb, it was I ! {dozvn l. cj Caleb) Caleb. Ah, Ida ! Caleb. Wyatt. Ida. Grant. Caleb. But it wasn’t you, Ida, it was a softer step ‘than yours, ’twas Wyatt. Not Lotty ! {is moving towards door) Caleb crosses quickly to window at back., l., and opens it and turns his p.ar to the street TWO ROSES. 45 Caleb. Ah, I think I can hear the step. Wyatt. Is it she, Caleb ? Ida sits at harmoniuin and plays a soft air^ same as in Act Z Caleb closes the window and fastens it^ and comes forivard. Caleb, {aside to Ida) I understand, Wyatt. Was it Lotty ? Caleb. I couldn’t hear. Tableau. Wyatt. Grant. Caleb. IdAi Act Drop slow. End of Act IL 46 TWO ROSES. ACT III. Garden at Grant’s (to plan). At k. house^ with piano 'Seen through windoiv. c. fountain (practical)., with gold fish. Across the stage from back to front., garlands or bunting decorated imth flowers., shewing the 7uord Welcome, but reversed to audience. Garden table at l. loith large tree and t'wo chairs. .Pour bars oi valse music — under stage before drop ascends — continued till Footman is off. -As the curtain rises., Lotty and Ida are looking at the fish, and Lotty has her fore-finger dipped in the 7uater. The tiuo girls are dressed exactly alike, in pretty 7ualking summer dresses. Lotty is paler than in Aet L Grant is asleep in garden ehair, 7uith a silk handker- chief over his head ; he luears one boot and one slipper. On table is seltzer zaater glass. A splendid Foot.man > enters from i e.r. with bottle of seltzer and glass with brandy. TWO ROSES. 47 Ida. Don’t disturb papa. Foot:man puis down things and retires. Dotty. Arn’t they beauties? they look as if they fed on sunlight, and it shone through ’em. Ida. Perhaps they’re fish from the river where Midas bathed. Dotty. Or perhaps they are some water fairies’ money ■ — her floating capital. Ida. Yes, and that one that’s half silver has been changed. Dotty. Yes, and there’s one with some brown spots — they’re copper. Ida. Gold, silver, and copper ; we’ll call that little fellow s. d. Shall we ? Dotty. Yes ; you may depend upon it they’re water fairies’ money, and they play cards for them (suddenly) -as we do for fish. (Grant wakes up and listens^ smiling) Dotty, (in glee) Oh, Ida, see ! Jack’s come to my) fi nger. Grant, (crossly) Dotty ! Dotty. Oh, now, papa, you’ve frightened Jack away. Grant. Dotty, you annoy me, you annoy me, with this folly of calling everything Jack. I gave you a little dog, and you called it Jack. I gave you a parrot, and I’m sure I thought their family name was Polly, and you called that Jack. I bought you a saddle-horse, and took the precaution to buy a mare, and hang me if you didn’t call her Jack too, and now you’re crowning the absurdity by calling a gold fish Jack. (Dotty begins to cry) Ida. (goes to Grant) Papa, you’ll have Dotty ill again, and she's only just getting better ; we shall lose her if you don’t mind. Grant.' Ida, you annoy me, you annoy me very much. (looking on table) I have always been an indulgent parent, you have had everything that affection and wealth could bestow, and — that stupid fellow has not left a corkscrew. Dotty. Ida, I’ve got J (stops sorrowjully) (Ida and Grant’s eyes ?neet) 48 TWO ROSES. Grant. Ida, v^hat do you mean by looking at me that way? Ida. {sits dow7i resolutely, and as she speaks she takes the seltzer bottle by the neclz) Papa, you have not kept your word, {she raises the bottle about an inch, and brings it again on the table) Grant. Ida, it is with great difficulty I can bottle up my feelings, and Ida. {raising the bottle agahi) Papa. {quadrille music heard as ij in grounds) Grant. And — you’ll have the cork fly out. {takes the bottle from her) Ida. {she rests her elbows on table, and leans her chin 071 her hands, looking hun calmly in the face) Papa, did you not promise E7iter from i e. r., two Footmen with large butler'’ s ti'ays ; one has a heap of buns covered with a white cloth, the other is full of white 7nugs, Grant. Ida. {glancing at theiii) Ida. {sitting back in an easy way) What are those, Thomas — the buns for the children ? {the other goes off ) Footman. Yes, miss. Biggs has the mugs ; the milk’s in the tent. Ida. Vl\ be there soon, {exit Footman. She resumes^ her attitude) And now, papa, I say you promised the doctor you would send for Mr. Wyatt. Grant. Ida, I — I am busy. (Ida looks at the table, then at him) Ida, I will not, I will not be looked at by you in this way ; I represent an ancient family. Wherever I go, I am respected. The rector gets from his gig to shake hands with me, the tradespeople take off their hats to me, the children cheer me. In the House of Commons, which is the noblest legislative assembly in the world, I am listened to generally, with — with considerable attention — on Wednesdays ; and yet I am bearded by my own child — the first offering of love that your dear mother placed in my hands, (really a little affteted) I can see your dumb baby lips now, and little I thought TWO ROSES. 49 they would one day utter ungrateful taunts ; it^s very painful, it’s very painful indeed. Ida. (taking her handkerchief and bury mg her face in it) Yes, and it’s very painful to me. Lotty. (coming down) Oh, papa, what have you done to Ida? Grant. What have I done ? Really this is — (in a sudden tone) Lotty, my child, give me a flower for my coat, (the Footmen recross) Ida. (with perfect composure) Has the person come to tune the piano, Thomas ? Footman. Yes, miss, a blind person. (Ida stands a little) He’s tuning the one in the back drawing-room, he’ll do the front next, (pointing to house) (exit. The other Footman has g07ie off^ Lotty. (coniing with flower) There, papa, are two roses, (as she is going to put them in his butto7i hole he takes them of her) Grant. Here again, now. Ida. Lotty, dear, go and see that the croquet-ground’s all right. I’m coming to play, (leaning over back of chair ^ so that her face is in a Ime with his) Lotty. Don’t tease her, papa, (kisses her aiid rmts away) Grant. Here again, everything to annoy me ; when we left our temporary abode in Kent, you must bring with you the two rose trees that those young men planted. (he is going to throw 70ses away) Ida. (taking tJmn and laying them on table) I’m deter- mined, papa, to speak out. Grant. Very well ; heaven knows I do not deserve this treatment but I will try and bear it Ida. You promised the doctor you would send for Mr. Wyatt ; and full of that hope, Lotty has grown better. Dr. Coram keeps telling her you are only waiting a favourable opportunity ; but if she learns that you do not mean to keep your word she will fall ill again, and die^ papa. Grant, (really afected^ but too selfish to see his fault) Ida, this is heartrending. Do you think that I am stone: that I can bear this ? TWO ROSES. SO Ida. Will you send for him then ? Grant. How can I ? — how can I ? Here is Mr. Jenkins; join your sister, {rises to go aivay from her) Ah, my worthy friend. {offers two fingers as enter Jenkins I E.R. Ida sighs and goes off^ 2 e.l. He is no 7 v dressed in blacky and white tie ; he looks remarkably well^ and his manner ofi the whole perhaps wiproved ; there is not the slightest sign of cant or humbtig about him, but he appears thoroughly cheerful and sincere) I was wishing to see you;’ though we differ in our religious persuasions and in politics, as indeed is natural from the difference in our position, still, in matters of benevolence we meet on common ground. I approve of you, I approve of you very much. Jenk. Yes, we both push the same article. I mean we both labour in the same vineyard. Grant. Truly — and the piece of plate. Jenk. Piece — it’s several pieces now ; Pve a surprise for you. {takes out a paper) Grant, {aside) So they got my notes. Jenk. Here’s the list, {reads) Subscriptions for the purchase of a piece of plate, to be presented to Digby Grant de Chaperon, Esquire, by his numerous friends and admirers, as a mark of their high esteem for his many acts of benevolence and wisdom. Pence from the children of the Surfton Schools, 3s. gjd. ; master, is. 6d.; mistress, IS. Balance of proceeds of an amateur performance, under the patronage of Lieut.-Colonel Barclay Grains, of the I St Vassalgate Volunteer Artillery, 2s. 10. Mrs. Jenkins says the money ought to be thrown into the pit of Tophet. Collected by Mrs. Pressidot, 7s. ; by Mrs. Wainwright, 4s. Now listen. Received by Messrs. Pitcher and Potts, notes to the amount of y[ff>o, from a great admirer of Mr. de Chaperon. Now who could that be ? Grant. Can’t guess — can you ? Jenk. Yes; but not satisfactorily. Grant. Very surprising. Jenk. I mean to say it’s dam — no, I donP mean that. Grant. Do Messrs. Pitcher and Potts know ? Jenk. I think they do, for Pitcher nudged Potts, and TWO ROSES. SI Potts nudged Pitcher, and the firm with one voice said they believed there was not another living creature who had one quarter so high an opinion of you as the person who sent those notes. Grant, {aside) Damn their impudence ! {rises) I will just go down to the people, they expect me. {Exit^ 3 E.L.) Jenk. And I will go over my speech, {takes out paper ; repeats) “ When it is the good fortune of a community to have among them a shining light ” (Wyatt coines to open windoiv^ jroni inside^ Wyatt. Ah, pretty enough, but prim. Nature in stays and high heel’d boots. Nature with a Grecian bend. Mother Nature made a girl of the period^ nothing but the old trees left as Adam saw them. Jenk. Surely I {lookmg up) Caleb, {peeps from windoui) Having a growl. Jack? Capital place for a growl. Noticed the hall was marble, the chair I touched was gilt, the carpet velvet pile, to be soft beneath the feet of hereditary indolence. There’s a chance for you — splendid place for a growl — old democrat, {goes in) Wyatt. Aristocrat, begone ! Jenk. The old style. I never could tell whether they were serious. Wyatt, {looking up) Welcome !” ah ! {the word WELCOME is written on a cloth^ facing wings) But welcome has turned her back on me, as I think she did when I was born. A school children’s feast. Charity ! Children badged and ticketed like beasts at a cattle show, clothed by my Lord Pharisee ! {seeing Jenkins) Hallo ! why, Caleb, here’s Our Mr. Jenkins. Jenk. {suddefily rising and holding up his hand) How are you ? {to Caleb) How do you do ? Caleb. Very well ; we were expecting an invitation from you. Jenk. Yes, I was going to send. But you know, birds of a feather — and when a cockatoo, as I may say, becomes a rook, he’s a little shy of his feathers at first. Caleb, (l.) I’d like to meet a jolly cockatoo now and then in any feathers. Do you live near? 52 TWO ROSES. Jenk. (c.) I live over yonder, {points off, 2 e.l.) irr Surfton. Mrs. Jenkins followed our shepherd. Caleb, (l.) O, got a farm, then ? Jenk. Farm ! The shepherd’s the gentleman she used to sit under. Caleb. Sit under 1 Jenk. Yes — don’t you understand? Caleb, (l.) Not exactly, but I see the advantage of her sitting under the shepherd ; if the shepherd had to- sit under Mrs. Jenkins, I should pity the shepherd. Jenk. (c.) Well, then, he had a call from Surfton ? Caleb, (l.) Did he hear all the way to London. Jenk. Yes, they offered him an extra hundred a-year. Wyatt. Ah, that was speaking up. (at the fou7itai7iy looking at fish) Jenk. And we followed him ; we had enough to retire on, so I gave up the road, and the shepherd he talked to me as I’ve never heard anybody talk, and Mrs. Jenkins talked to me Caleb. As I never heard anyone talk. Jenk. And at last they persuaded me to put off the old man Caleb. Had you an appointment with him ? Jenk. Pooh — you know what I mean. I have escaped from the pit of Tophet. They have made a shining light of me. Wyatt. A dark lantern 1 Jenk. Fm an elder. Wyatt. A cypress, Jenkins, a cypress* Caleb. D’ye like it ? Jenk. Yes, now I am used to it. {m co7ifLde7ice) It’s not so slow as you think. The shepherd’s a rare fellow for a joke. He said the other night at the mutual comfort meeting, that I used to travel in the ways of sin, and now I walk in the paths of virtue. You should have seen ’em laugh, but then they always laugh at the shepherd’s jokes. Join us. I’ll get you in trade price. No — I mean, Fll introduce you. Wyatt. Thank’ee. And how is the silver grey mare ? Jenk. Oh, she’s pretty well ; she’s below there in the tents of the wicked — no — no — I mean in the tents with TWO ROSES. 53 the children, (croquet sounds^ By-the-bye, who called you to the feast ? Caleb. Jack brought me to tune the piano. ' {shows key, and exits into window) Jenk. Then don’t you know who De Chaperon is? Wyatt, {conies doiun) Well the fair inference is that De Chaperon is De Chaperon. Jenk. And you came here by accident? Wyatt. Quite. Jenk. I think you’d better go away. Wyatt. Go 1 Why ? {croquet sounds) Jenk. For fear De Chaperon should see you. Ida. (without) O Lotty, you silly girl ! Bella, croquet her. Caleb conies quickly to window with tuning-key in his hand, and Wyatt starts. Wyatt. Why {looks inquiringly at Jenkins) Jenk. {aside) There’ll be a shine in the tents of Shem. Enter Grant, l. 2 e. Grant. Jenkins, I like the plate very well, though I think the words “ benevolent acts ” might have been more clearly — {sees Wyatt and starts) You here ! This is unmanly ! Wyatt. Mr. Grant ! Grant. My name is De Chaperon. Wyatt, {bowing De Chaperon, I care not in what •estimation you hold me, but I feel in being here I owe you an explanation. Grant. I want no explanation. Go, sir, go ! before I am obliged to order my servants to remove you. Mrs. J. {outside) Edward, dearest. Jenk. My love. Wyatt, {to Grant) A word with you presently. Grant recovers his bland manner, and looks as though nothing had occurred, Ci'osses l. up l. Ente? Mrs. Jenkins (l. 2. e. crosses over to r.) in he? silver grey ; in other matters plainly hut well dressed ; she carries a large blue ticket. 54 TWO ROSES. Mrs. J. Edward, they want me to go into the milk and bun tent, and I know you told me my ticket was ifor tea and cake with the ladies. Oh, dear me, Mr de Chappering and Mr. Wyatt too ! Well, this is a pleasure. Grant. Mr. Jenkins, will you ? {goes towards windo^d) LoTTY. { off ^ L.) Now, Bela, it’s your turn. (7ioise of inallets striking hall offy l.) Mrs. J. {looking off^ l. 2 e.) Well now, dear me, if there ain’t a lot of young ladies with hammers, playing at blacksmiths, I suppose. LoTTY. {outside^ Oh, dear — he’ll croquet me. Grant looks uneasy^ moves towards l. 2 e. croquet bale C077ies on. Grant stops it a7id picks it up. Lotty runs on with 77iallet. Lotty. Oh, papa, how naughty of you ! {gomg to strike- hbn in fun ; seemg people). Oh, dear 1 (Wyatt turns his back) Grant. My dear child, play farther off ! {goes off to fh wmdow) Lotty. Yes, papa, but I must speak to the shining light. How do you do? I mean, how do you shine ? Jenk. Well, not brilliantly yet, but with the mild effulgence of a glowworm. Mrs. j. We are all worms. Jenk. But we don’t all glow. Lotty. Why, I declare that’s O, dear me ! Jenk. Miss Charlotte de Chaperon — Mrs. Jenkins — • My dear Miss de Chaperon. (Mrs. Jenkins and Lotty boiv as if they 7i7ider stood one another) Jenk. And how are the gold fish? {crosses to l. of fountain) How’s Jack ? I.OTTY. {puts her finger to her lips) I mustn’t call him Jack {whispering) but he’ll come and nibble my finger, {she and Jenkins go to fou7itain. Wyatt is lea7iing agamst it with his back timied. She whispei’s) Who’s that rude person ? Jenk. That— a — e — I don’t know, i Lotty. Perhaps he knows which is the best bjoking; TWO ROSES. 55 side of him. (^pufs he)' finger in i.vater) Now, you see him’; come (softly)^ Jack. (Wyatt turns round quickly^ Oh ! {falls in Jenkins’ arms. All turn) Tableau, Wyatt. Lotty. Mrs. Jenkins. Jenkins. Lotty. Oh, Jack ! then papa did send for you ; but wait a moment, I must go and tell Ida. O, I feel so giddy Will you come with me ? Jenk. Yes, my dear, I Lotty. And, oh, I am so happy, {to Wyatt) Don’t you move — come along, {fjits head of mallet behmd his neck and handle over his shoulder) Yes,” said the rook, with a sanctified look, “ I’ll come with you.” (/7//A Jenkins l.2 e.) Mrs. J. Edward, dear, do get my ticket changed, I can’t eat buns, {follov's them^ L.2) Grant, {re-enters f7^om house) And now, sir, without more words Wyatt. The fewer the better. I see you have told that poor child you were going to send for me. Be care- ful how you play with her young life, or one day we may stand over the same grave. Grant. Go, sir, go — do not harrow a father’s feelings. I forgive you, go. {crosses toui, Wyatt turns to go off at i.e.r) Enter Furnival. Fur. {taking hwi by the hand) Dear me, this is unexpected ; very glad to see you, though — hope you’re not going away. Wyatt. Yes. Grant. I have requested that person to leave my grounds. Fur. I’d ask him to stay now— take my advice as a professional man. Don’t go, Mr. Wyatt. Grant. Mr. Furnival, I do not choose to be interfered with. Fur. No, of course not, you don’t choose it — we don’t choose gout, many things we don’t choose, but they 56 TWO ROSES. come. Mr. de Chaperon would like to see you presently, Mr. Wyatt, I feel sure. Grant. I cannot comprehend. Fur. I have often noticed it — dear me that’s a slip. Have I your leave ? Mr. Wyatt, will you kindly wait within to see me — to see me^ you know. Wyatt. That’s very different. {Exit to house) Fur. And now I think I’ll sit down. How’s the gout ? ( they go and sit) Grant. It is very bad — but it has been in our family a long time. - Fur. Dear me ! — I know several families in which there has been something bad for a long time. But what have you there ? Grant. Brandy, but the silly fellow has not left me a corkscrew for the seltzer. Fur. Better without. I’d drink it if I were you. I’ve got some very nice cigars ; I think I will indulge — nice green curtains over head — smoke won’t hurt ’em — you’d better drink that. (Grant does so) Try these. (Grant smokes) It’s about a year ago since I came and informed you that you were heir to ten thousand a year. Grant. I remember that pleasant occasion. Fur. I told you that there was but one person between you and that estate, and that person could not be found. Grant. You did. Fur. Well — let’s see. Oh, yes, you’ve had the brandy — well, he is found. Grant. Great Heavens ! {puts down cigar and falls back) Caleb, {inside) Oh, ]\if iter \ (iiot aloud) Furnival looks towards 'ivindow, Caleb drums a little at one note. Fur. Ah, you bear it very well. Grant. My dear sir, does any one know of this Besides you ? Fur. Well, not completely. Grant. Then why let any one know ? Fur. {rises) Mr. Grant, you have mistaken your man. You are TWO ROSES. 57 Caleb runs fingers over notes. They look round. Grant. It is only a fellow tuning. You do not ‘Understand me. Fur. I think I do ; and I say a man who makes such a proposition deserves Caleb striking 7iotes, A good chord. They both look rounds Grant. Sit down, Mr. Furnival, I merely wish you not to mention it yet. I will — I will make it known. Let me hear the particulars. Fur. Well, it’s a very remarkable story, (Grant takes .up his cigar) Ah, that’s better ! Now let me see, for I am not much of a hand at story-telling. The late Richard de Chaperon was a very dissipated man. About the time of his marriage he became acquainted with a girl named Jane Dent, and, as we politely call it, accomplished her ruin. He was sorely punished. Jane Dent and Mrs. de Chaperon each had a blind son ; the lady mother was so afflicted she was too ill to rear her child herself, and Jane Dent came and demanded the place of nurse. She frightened by threats of exposure The dissipated father into compliance. Some time after he had a fancy to visit the nursery, and there to his ■astonishment he found two children in the same cot. He asked the girl which was his ; she answered both. He told her to take her child and go. She coolly asked him which was hers ? He did not know. No one in the house knew. The girl insisted that her child should either share or have his chance of all, and told the father to choose his heir. He chose the wrong, and after a time the boy and the father both died, and, as you remember, the estates came to you. Now I at the time knew this story, and held the proofs, but I could not find the boy. At last the name Deecie, a very uncommon one, struck me as suggesting De C. — De Chaperon. Caleb. Oh ! {they look round ; he runs his lingers up the ■keys) Fur. And with the help of Mr. Wyatt, who only thought I wished to find the young man’s origin, I traced the boy in Mr. Caleb Deecie. 58 TWO ROSES. Caleb. What ! {the word must he half smothered. They look rounds and he strikes a few chords rapidly, A pause) Fur. You bear it well. Grant. This is a great relief to my mind, {he sees the two roses on the tahle^ picks them up^ and puts thein in his button hole) When will your proofs be complete? Fur. Nothing of importance is wanting. My clerk is. without, waiting for his instructions to go to Nottingham to-morrow. Grant. He must not wait, let him go to-night, c xpress ; I will pay the expense ; come in, I will give- you a Jittle cheque. {as they are going Lotty e7iters, l. pulling on Ida) Lotty. Papa, dear, don’t go. Grant, {turns) My child. Lotty. IVe brought Ida to beg your pardon, because you’re a dear sly old fox of a papa, and sent for Jack, and never let us know. (Ida looks dowfi) She’s awfully sorry, papa, though she won’t speak. Grant. My dear child, I have business with Mr. Furnival. Lotty. Mr. Furnival won’t mind me, and I’ll tell him where to get a rose off my tree, only I’m afraid he’ll charge me six and eightpence for taking instructions. Fur. My dear young lady, I take the hint, and will accept the rose for costs. (Furnival bows and gathers hvnself a rose and exits,, r. i e.) Lotty. Now, Ida, say you are very sorry. Grant. My dear child, this is very painful, very pain- ful indeed. Mr. Wyatt is within ; now do let me go ! Lotty. {clmgmg to hwi) Not till she has said she’s, sorry. Now, Ida? Ida. Well, papa, I sucnvery sorry ; I thought you were deceiving Lotty, that you had said you would send for Mr. Wyatt, and you did not mean it ; that Grant. My dear child, I cannot bear this, it is very painful— Mr. Furnival. I — for heaven’s sake let me go. {hurries of,, R.) TWO ROSES. 59- Lotty. O, isn’t papa a good man ; he’s just like what the poet says, you know Ida. Who— Caleb? Lotty. No, a 7eal poet — one thafs dead, I remember ; papa does good by stealth, and blushes to find it fame,”^ — that’s it. Oh, mustn’t papa blush at the good he does! Ida. (thoughtfidly) I don’t know, {quickly) Ah, well, it’s best to believe the best. Go and hide as I said and I will call Jack. Lotty. Oh, don’t it sound pleasant to be able to say Jack without doing wrong, {goes behind fou7itam) Ida. {advaficing to window) Mr. Wyatt, — he will see- you, Lotty. (Wyatt enters fro77i window) Wyatt. Did any one— eh ? What, Ida. Ida. Yes, it’s me — I mean L {holds out both ha7ids) Wyatt. A fgood heart’s better than good grammar, Ida. Well, I little thought when I came here I should hold these two white friends again, {he kisses her left hand,^ then her rights places 07ie over the other and his on the77i) Ida. Yes, that’ll do. ’Twas very kind of papa to send for you, wasn’t it ? Wyatt. {do7ibt fully) Yes. Ida. Don’t you think so ? Wyatt. O yes, very, very kind. Ida. Yes, I thought you’d like to see me. Wyatt. And only you ? He leans against vase facing the audie7ice. Ida faces hun; Lot I Y looks up resting her chin on edge of vase, Ida. You can’t want to see Lotty ; she was very faith- less, wasn’t she ? Wyatt. I didn’t think she’d have given me up so easily. Ida. No, it’s a pity you didn’t marry that lady who used to call at your chambers, and leave you silver forks. {she takes a letter froTn her pocket and pro77ipts he7self-—' aside) Wyatt. Why, how on earth Ida. But — {quoting) “ but you suffered from woman’s, falsehood ” (Wyatt tries to see what she has) TWO ROSES. ‘6o Ida. {turning away) “ And you will never love again.” Wyatt. Why, you white witch, how did you come by that? Ida. Ah, how ! {brings letter forward) Wyatt. Why, of course, I see, you were the minister- ing angel. What a vain fool I was to write that letter. Ida. Yes, you were, but there, you see yoti’re only a man, but I wasn’t the ministering angel for all that. Wyatt. Then who was it who gave you the letter ? Lotty here dips her fingers in the water and throws the drop at hint. Wyatt, {jumping away and turning) Lotty, — O, of course, what a clod I am — {moving towards her) Lotty. {hides her face in her hands) Don’t let him touch me, Ida. (Wyatt puts his hands behind him and watching her ; Ida steals into house) Don’t let him touch me. {peeps) Are you frightened of me, that you stand out there ? Wyatt. No, pet. He goes and brings her down ; takes both hands ; is going to kiss her — stops. Lotty. Go on, you may. Wyatt, {kisses her) And so the love was strong, and the work did not come undone. Lotty. What a long time it is since I saw you. Wyatt. Nearly a year. Lotty. And isn’t a year a long time when you want to see some one who doesn’t come ! Wyatt. If you’re idle, a year’s a very long time. Lotty. O, but we are not idle. Ida and I are always busy ; we’ve made the curate such a lot of slippers. Wyatt. Lucky dog to stand in your shoes. Lotty. Papa likes us to be busy; we’ve a Dorcas Society, and we make flannel waistcoats tor the poor children, {with something between glee and mystery) We nearly killed one baby. Wyatt. Was it such fun ? Lotty. Awful ! Ida cut a little shirt too small, and we couldn’t find a child to wear it. At last we got Mrs. Phibb’s baby into it — and we couldn’t get it out again. TWO ROSES. 6 ® Wyatt. Happy baby ! Lotty. We had to cut it out, as if we were opening a parcel. Wyatt. And so you kill babies — I mean time — making slippers and flannel waistcoats. Lotty, O, we do other things besides those. I teacL in the schools. Wyatt, {amused) Mercy on us ' Lotty At night, ploughboys, such big ones. Seven- teen or eighteen years old. They’re so fond of me. Wyatt. They would be at that age. Lotty. And though they laugh, they do just what I tell them. If I say, “Tom Bullock, who conquered the Britons?” and he says, “Nobody,” and I tell him to go to the bottom of the class, he goes at once. You wouldn’t. Wyatt. Not for saying that. I should expect a medal. Slippers, waistcoats and ploughboys ! Why a Home Secretary don’t do more. Lotty. But I do. I’ve all my Jacks to attend to. Wyatt. Oh ^ I have some rivals Lotty. Several — one’s a mare. Wyatt. Mayor ? Old person t Lotty. Four years. Wyatt. With such a mayor the town shouF be a: doll’s home. Lotty. One comes to me for bits of bread, Wyatt. So poor as that ? Lotty. Poor i made of money. Come and see him,, {at fountain) There he is, in his gilt armour, like a Crusader against infidel flies. Isn’t he a beauty ? and doesn’t he look stupid ? Wyatt. Beauties often do. Why, there are the old rose trees ! Lotty. Yes ; you must have a rose. Wyatt. How’s this ? One bough’s dead i Lotty. Yes : I {crying) broke it myself trying to make it grow like Ida’s. Wyatt. Lotty, you’ve the sin of all Eve’s daughters. Everything you have must be like someone else’s. And S2 TWO ROSES. so many an honest love, that might have blossomed brightly because it grows out of the common way, gets broken, and dies like your bough. Lotty. How nice it is to hear you lecture again. Wyatt. Give me the bud, {going to kiss the bud) Lotty. Oh, don’t do that. Wyatt. Why not ? Lotty. It’s such a pity to waste ’em. (Wyatt laughs^ kisses Jier^ and they exeunt ^ r.u.e.) Enter Caleb and I'DA.from house. Caleb. And haven’t you played at chess since, Ida ? Ida. No, I locked up my men. Caleb. Locked up your men ! What a wife you’d .make. Will you get them out ? Ida. Are you going to stay ? Caleb. For a day or two. Ida. Has papa invited you ? Caleb. No, but he will. Ida. Oh dear ! you frighten me just as you used to do. Caleb. As I used ! Not much then. Ida. But you do. You seem to have some strange property that Caleb. That’s it. I have a wonderful property that will make your papa do as I please. Ida. Shall you stay long with us ? Caleb. Not long. I shall ask you to stay with me. If I had a place like this, you would stay a little while with me, Ida ? Ida. Yes, a long time, but how can you get such a place — not by fiddling ? Caleb. No ; I should pull a very long bow if I said I should get it in that way. Ida. Not by playing on the organ? Caleb. It would have to be the organ of benevolence. A good many fortunes have been raised that way. Ida. Don’t tease me, Caleb — how ? Caleb, With this, {showing tuning key) Ida. O, nonsense ! TWO ROSES. 63 Caleb. It^s a wonderful little instrument Here’s your father. See, what an effect it will have on him. tipinio window ; Caleb retires up) Enter Grant, r. i e. Grant. Servants are all down at the tents. Can’t anything, and my mouth’s dried up. I wonder where that fellow put the corkscrew. Caleb comes to window^ then adv apices ; Ida comes to window, Caleb. Knock the neck off. Grant. The man himself. Caleb. Will that do? {hands tufiing key) Grant. Thank you. {takes it) I did not know you were here. Caleb. No ; my entering on your estate does astonish you, no doubt Grant. I am very pleased to greet you — we have been parted too long. Caleb. Yes, too long to meet with perfect confidence. Grant. Mr. Deecie, I have something for your private ^ear. Caleb. Choose your ear and proceed. Grant. I have often, in days gone by, thought you had a strong attachment for my daughter Ida — that you saw her merit Caleb. Yes ; a blind man might see that Grant. And I also thought, Caleb — I say Caleb. Caleb. Yes, as there is a doubt about my name, Caleb is best Grant, {starts) I also thought she had a more than common liking for you, and I confess I noticed it with pleasure. Caleb. Since when? Grant. Since Caleb. I think I can tell how long you have had this favourable opinion — about half an hour. But I dare- say as you find it so easy to forget old favours when it suits you, you can readily forget new dislikes. Would you have welcomed me an hour ago, or say yesterday ? 64 TWO ROSES. Grant I — I Caleb. Pause a moment, you are agitated. Grant. I — no, you — mistake — if you could see me Caleb. I can’t, out I can hear ; your tongue is dry with excitement. Try your seltzer ; knock the neck off - -you won’t hurt it, it’s only a tuning key. Grant. Tuning key ! {staggered) Caleb. Yes, what I have been tuning the piano with. Grant. Then, with his quick ears {turns away) he knows all. Caleb. By-the-bye, I’ve got something for you that I’ve been keeping for a long time—you may find it useful now — a little cheque ! {hafids him the cheque of Act I.) Sounds of a band advajicing. Grant pulls hmself together and goes to back, looking off. At this there is a cheer ; he raises his hat The band cha7iges tune to “See the Conquering Hero.” They eiiter at back. Four rural policeinen playing brass instru- ments badly, one ve^-'.^ bass horn grimting vilely. Jenkins, preceded by a Footman carrying small table mith the plate on it covered with a cloth • Mrs. Jenkins, and others ; the crowd is supposed to be off at l. 2 e. Ida. {crossmg to Caleb) Oh, Caleb, I wish you could see the police band. Papa pays for it. Caleb. I wish I could, I don’t care to hear it. Enter Wyatt and Lotty, l. 2 E. Jenk. {takes off his hat) {cheers) My dear friends, when a shining light appears amongst us we ought to acknowledge its presence. {Cheers). As the honorary secretary of the Vassalwick Institute, founded by Mr. de Chaperon, I have been entrusted with the presen- tation of a piece of plate to him. {uncovers plate ; cheers) I will read you the inscription — “ Presented to Digby G. de Chaperon, Esq., M.P., of Vassalwick Grange, Vassal- wick, by his numerous friends and admirers, as a humble mark of the high esteem in which he is held, and the deep admiration they feel for his many great and • TWO ROSES. 65 benevolent acts.” {Cheers) Sir, I beg you to accept this as a token of the high esteem in which you are held by your admiring countrymen. {Cheers) Grant. “ Ladies and Gentlemen — {cheers) — it is with feelings of deep emotion — {cheers)^2X I accept this— this little gift, {the hand off l. — one supposed to he engaged for the presentation — strikes tcp sicddenly ^ “We won’t go home till morning,” to the dismay (?/ Jenkins, horror of and afjiusement of the others, Jenkins motions off for hand to stop ^ saying,, “No, no, stop the band.” After it stops Grant proceeds) I am about to leave you. {as he utters these words a solitary small hoy in a smock frock,, rushes out,, l. and throwing up his cap, shouts “ Hurray ! ” he is immediately collated hy a Policeman and ejected, Omnes saying, “Turn him out!”) I have discovered the lost heir to these estates — {cheers) — and have sent an express to Nottingham to obtain the last proof necessary, and to-morrow I leave a spot closely associated with the dearest memories, to s^ive possession to the rightful owner. It is no small satisfaction to me to know that in days gone by he was often sheltered under my roof, and that my hand was ever open to assist him. Your new lord is there, {pointing Caleb, who turns a Good-bye. {Cheers. Mrs. Jenkins General sensation) Lotty. O, Jack, what does it mean ? I don’t under- stand, Wyatt. I do now, pet. What shall you do with it all, Caleb ? (Ida is playing with the water as it flows) Caleb. You asked me to give you a castle, Ida. Any way there are the broad lands, and an Englishman’s house — you know the adage. Lotty. Don’t you hear, Ida ? (Ida still plays with the water) Wyatt. Come, give him your hand. Ida. It’s wet (Caleb hands her a handkerchief. Suddenly) There then ! - Grant. Mr. Jenkins, that union has been the dream of my life. Lotty. You won’t part us ! 66 TWO ROSES. Caleb. No, you shall bloom together as on one tree^ Wyatt, (between them) One, like the rose when June and July kiss One, like the leaf-housed bud young May discloses^ Sweetly unlike, and yet alike in this — They are — ‘‘ Two Roses,” (Band plays valse) Mr. & Mrs. Jenkins. Grant. Wyatt. Lotty. CURTAIN. Furnival. Ida. Caleb. MISCELLANEOUS PLAYS. Many very scarce. Price 6d. each, unless otherwise marked. (b) denotes burlesqiie, (c) comedy, (c d) comic drama, (c o) comic opera^ (d) drama, (ex) extravaganza, (f) farce, (f p) fairy play, (i) interlude,, (m d) melodrama, (o b) opera bouffe, (p) play, (r) romance, (t) tragedy, (v) vaudeville. Abelard and Heloise (d), 3, 15 . Buckstone Abon Hassan (ex). A. O’Neal Abon Hassan (c d), 2 Adrian and Orilla (p), 5. W. Diraond Agamemnon & Cassandra (b). R. Reece Aladdin II (o b) Is. A. Thompson Alhambra (b). A. Smith Armourer’s Daughter (ex). H. T. Arden Athenian Captive (t), 5, is. L. N. Talfourd Bailiff’s Daughter (f), ^ Battle of Life (d), 3, U. A. 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