  (The field is divided by a stile and a hedge from some pastures.) He (bent double in the act of gathering poppies). And what would you vote about? She (with hand extended to receive them). Oh, anything—everything! He. And the candidate who paid most compliments would get most votes, eh? She. It would depend on how he paid them. He (looking up and laughing). Then it's the quality, and not the quantity, which tells? She. Nothing would "tell," as you call it, if we did not approve his principles. He. Not even the offer of a new bonnet? She. That would be bribery and corruption! He. But some bonbonniÈres at Christmas time? She. Oh, everyone accepts them. He. Then the vote would depend on the excellence of the confectioner? She. Do not chaff on serious subjects. He. I was never more serious in my life! She (pouting). Then you are horribly rude and unkind! Don't pick any more poppies; the bunch is too large already. He. Let me take it for you. She (with warmth). I don't want you to do anything for me. It is time you learnt that woman can be independent if she choose. He (with a merry twinkle in his eye). You will permit me to carry your sunshade? She (simmering). No; I don't want services from people who laugh at one. He (drawing his moustache carefully over his lips). I am not laughing. She. Then you ought to be. There is no excuse for a man arguing seriously against woman's emancipation. He. I thought you wished me to be serious. She (tossing her head). You know very well what I wish. (They reach the stile.) He. Let me help you over. She. I don't need any help. Women can climb stiles as well as men. He (turning away). Of course. She (amazed because he does not insist). I wish you hadn't come. I wouldn't have asked you to pick poppies for me if—— He (interrupting). I came as your escort—nothing more. She. I don't require any escort. You can go home by the road. (His face falls. The roads are hot and dusty, and the fields green and fragrant. Besides this, he has curved his spine flower gathering for two hours in the hope of gratifying her.) He. You will not send me off like this? Lilla, darling, don't let us quarrel about trifles. She. Woman's independence is not a trifle. He (laughing). Of course not. (The laugh is fatal.) She (indignantly). Good-bye! He. What do you mean? I am coming with you. She. Never! He (looking at her askance). Lilla! She. I mean it. He. And your decision—— She. Is irrevocable! (Her foot is on the step of the stile. Her right hand holds the poppies and supports the open sunshade which rests on her shoulder. She turns her back on him.) He (in a huff). Oh, very well. (He commences walking towards the road gate. She half mounts the stile, looks across the field, then pauses. He, some yards off, is fumbling with the chain of the gate.) She (after making another movement towards the field and then shrinking back). Frank! (He does not hear.) She (louder). Frank! He (not moving). Yes. She. Come here. (He obeys. She remains seated on the top rung of the stile.) She. Frank! He (by the side of her). Well? She (in rather an anxious voice, and pointing across the field). What's that? He. A bull. She. Oh! He. Well? She. Frank, are you sure you didn't mean to laugh at me? He. Quite sure. She. You apologise? He. As much as you like. She. And you'll never oppose woman's independence? He. Never! She. Then you may carry my poppies for me. He. And come home with you? She. If you promise not to tease. He (leaping over the stile). I promise. She (following leisurely and glancing warily across the field). And, Frank, dear, hadn't you better cover the poppies with your handkerchief—— He. Why? She. Oh, because—isn't it rather glary in the field? They might fade, you know. |
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