  The Scene is the Reception Room at Miss Dyott's seminary for young ladies, known as Volumnia College, Volumnia House, near Portland Place. The windows look on to the street, and a large door at the further end of the room opens to the hall, where there are some portmanteaus standing, while there is another door on the spectator's right. Jane Chipman, a stout, middle-aged servant, and Tyler, an unhealthy looking youth, wearing a page's jacket, enter the room, carrying between them a large travelling-trunk. TYLER.[Breathlessly.] 'Old 'ard—'old 'ard! Phew! [They rest the trunk on the floor, Tyler dabs his forehead with a small dirty handkerchief, which he passes on to Jane.] Excuse me not offering it to you first, Jane. JANE.[Dabbing the palms of her hands.] Don't name it, Tyler. Do you 'appen to know what time Missus starts? TYLER.Two-thirty, I 'eard say. JANE.It's a queer thing her going away like this alone—not to say nothing of a schoolmistress leaving a lot of foolish young gals for a month or six weeks. TYLER.[Sitting despondently on the trunk.] Cook and the parlourmaid got rid of too—it's not much of a Christmas vacation we shall get, you and me, Jane. JANE.You're right. [Sitting on the sofa.] Let's see—how many of our young ladies 'aven't gone home for their 'olidays? TYLER.Well, there's Miss 'Awkins. JANE.Her people is in India. TYLER.Miss Johnson. JANE.Her people is in the Divorce Court. TYLER.Miss Hesslerigge. JANEOh, she ain't got no 'ome. She's a orphan, studying for to be a governess. TYLER.Then there's this new girl, Miss Ranklin'. JANE.Dinah Ranklin'? TYLER.Yes, Dinah Ranklin'. Now why is she to spend her Exmas at our College? She's the daughter of Admiral Ranklin', and the Ranklin's live jest round the corner at Collin'wood 'Ouse. JANE.Oh, she's been failin' in love or something, and has got to be locked up. TYLER.Well then, last but not least, there's the individual who is kicking his 'eels about the 'ouse, and giving himself the airs of the 'aughty. JANE.[Mysteriously.] What—Missus's husband? TYLER.Yes—Missus's husband. JANE.Ah! Mark my word, if ever there was a mystery, there's one. TYLER.Who is he? Missus brings him 'ome about a month ago, and doesn't introduce him to us or to nobody. The order is she's still to be called Miss Dyott, and we don't know even his nasty name. JANE.[Returning to the trunk.] She calls him Ducky. TYLER.Yes, but we can't call him Ducky. [Pointing to the handkerchief which Jane has left upon the sofa] My 'andkerchief, please. I don't let anybody use it. JANE.[Returning the handkerchief.] Excuse me. [In putting the handkerchief into his breast-pocket he first removes a handful of cheap-looking squibs.] Lor! You will carry them deadly fireworks about with you, Tyler. TYLER.[Regarding them fondly.] Fireworks is my only disserpation. There ain't much danger unless anybody lunges at me. [Producing some dirty crackers from his trousers pockets, and regarding them with gloomy relish.] Friction is the risk I run. JANE.[Palpitating.] Oh, don't, Tyler! How can you 'ave such a 'ankering? TYLER.[Intensely.] It's more than a 'ankering. I love to 'oard 'em and meller 'em. To-day they're damp—to-morrow they're dry. And when the time comes for to let them off— JANE.Then they don't go off— TYLER.[Putting the fireworks away.] P'r'aps not—and it's their 'orrible uncertainty wot I crave after. Lift your end, Jane. [They take up the trunk as Gwendoline Hawkins and Ermyntrude Johnson, two pretty girls, the one gushing, the other haughty in manner, appear in the hall.] GWENDOLINE.Here are Miss Dyott's boxes—she is really going to-day. I am so happy! ERMYNTRUDE.What an inexpressible relief! Oh, Tyler, I am dissatisfied with the manner in which my shoes are polished. GWENDOLINE.Yes—and, Tyler, you never fed my mice last night. TYLER.It ain't my place. Birds and mice is Jane's place. GWENDOLINE.You are an inhuman boy. [Shaking Tyler.] ERMYNTRUDE.You are a creature! JANE.Don't shake him, Miss, don't shake him! [Peggy Hesslerigge enters through the hall, and comes between Tyler and Gwendoline. Peggy is a shabbily dressed, untidy girl, with wild hair and inky fingers, her voice is rather shrewish and her actions are jerky: altogether she has the appearance of an overwise and neglected child.]. PEGGY.Leave the boy alone, Gwendoline Hawkins! What has he done? GWENDOLINE.He won't feed my darling pets. ERMYNTRUDE.And he is generally a Lower Order. PEGGY.Go away, Tyler. [Tyler and Jane deposit the trunk in the hall with the other baggage, and disappear.] You silly girls! To make an enemy of the boy at the very moment we depend upon his devotion! It's just like you, Ermyntrude Johnson! ERMYNTRUDE.Don't you threaten me with your inky finger, Miss Hesslerigge, please. PEGGY.Ugh! Haven't we sworn to help Dinah Rankling with our last breath? Haven't we sworn to free her from the chains of tyranny and oppression, and never to eat much till we have seen her safely and happily by her husband's side! ERMYNTRUDE.Yes—but we can't truckle to a pale and stumpy boy, you know. PEGGY.We can—we've got to. If Dinah's husband is ever to enter this house we must crouch before the instrument who opens the door—however short, however pasty. DINAH.[Calling outside.] Are you there, girls? PEGGY.[Jumping and clapping her hands.] Here's Dinah! ERMYNTRUDE AND GWENDOLINE.[Calling.] Dinah! [They run up to the door to receive and embrace Dinah, who enters through the hall. Dinah is an exceedingly pretty and simple-looking girl of about sixteen.] GWENDOLINE.We've been waiting for you, Dinah. PEGGY.And now you're going to keep your promise to us, ain't you? DINAH.My promise? PEGGY.To tell us all about it from beginning to end. DINAH.[Bashfully.] Oh, I can't—I don't like to. PEGGY.You must; we've only heard your story in bits. DINAH.But where's Miss Dyott? PEGGY.Out—out—out. DINAH.And where is he—Miss Dyott's husband? PEGGY.What—the Mystery? [Skipping across to the left-hand door, and, going down on her knees, peering through the keyhole.] It's all right. One o'clock in the day, and he's not down yet—the imp! I'd cold sponge him if I were Miss Dyott. Places, young ladies. [Ermyntrude sits with Dinah on the sofa, Gwendoline being at Dinah's feet. Peggy perches on the edge of the table with her feet on a chair.] H'm! Now then, Mrs. ———— what's your name, Dinah? DINAH.[Drooping her eyelids.] Paulover—Mrs. Reginald Paulover. PEGGY.Attention for Mrs. Paulover's narrative. Chapter One. DINAH.Well, dears, I met him at a party—at Mrs. St. Dunstan's in the Cromwell Road. He was presented to Mamma and me by Major Padgate. PEGGY.Vote of thanks to Major Padgate; I wish we knew him, young ladies. Well? DINAH.I bowed, of course, and then Mr. Paulover—Mr. Paulover asked me whether I didn't think the evening was rather warm. PEGGY.He soon began to rattle on, then. It was his conversation that attracted you, I suppose? DINAH.Oh no, love came very gradually. We were introduced at about ten o'clock, and I didn't feel really drawn to him till long after eleven. The next day, being Ma's "At home" day, Major Padgate brought him to tea. PEGGY.Young ladies, what is your opinion of Major Padgate? ERMYNTRUDE.I think he must be awfully considerate. DINAH.He's not—he called my Reginald a "young shaver." PEGGY.That's contemptible enough. How old is your Reginald? DINAH.He is much my senior—he was seventeen in November. Well, the following week Reginald proposed to me in the conservatory. He spoke very sensibly about settling down, and how we were not growing younger; and how he'd seen a house in Park Lane which wasn't to let, but which very likely would be to let some day. And then we went into the drawing-room and told Mamma. PEGGY, ERMYNTRUDE, AND GWENDOLINE.Well, well? [Breaking down and putting her handkerchief to her eyes.] Oh, I shall never forget the scene! I never shall. PEGGY.Don't cry, Dinah! [They all try to console her.] DINAH.Mamma, who is very delicate, went into violent hysterics and tore at the hearthrug with her teeth. But a day or two afterwards she grew a little calmer, and promised to write to Papa, who was with his ship at Malta. PEGGY.And did she? DINAH.Yes. Papa, you know, is Admiral Rankling. His ship, the "Pandora," has never run into anything, and so Papa is a very distinguished man. GWENDOLINE.And what was his answer? DINAH.He telegraphed home one terrible word—"Bosh!" PEGGY and ERMYNTRUDE [Indignantly.] Oh! GWENDOLINE.He ought to be struck into a Flying Dutchman! DINAH.The telegraphic rate from Malta necessitates abruptness, but I can never forgive the choice of such a phrase. But it decided our fate. Three weeks ago, when I was supposed to be selecting wools at Whiteley's, Reginald and I were secretly united at the Registry Office. GWENDOLINE.Oh, how lovely! ERMYNTRUDE.How romantic! DINAH.We declared we were much older than we really are, but, as Reginald said, trouble had aged us, so it wasn't a story. At the doors of the Registry Office we parted. ERMYNTRUDE.How horrible! GWENDOLINE.I couldn't have done that! DINAH.And when I reached home there was a letter from Papa ordering Mamma to have me locked up at once in a Boarding School; and here I am—torn from my husband, my letters opened by Miss Dyott, quite friendless and alone. GWENDOLINE.No, that you're not, Dinah. Listen to me! Miss Dyott is going out of town to-day, and I'm left in charge. I'm a poor governess, but playing jailer over bleeding hearts is not in my articles, and if your husband comes to Volumnia House and demands his wife, he doesn't go away without you—does he, young ladies? GWENDOLINE AND ERMYNTRUDE AND PEGGY.No. We will do as we would be done by—won't we? GWENDOLINE AND ERMYNTRUDE.Yes! [The street-door bell is heard, the girls cling to each other.] PEGGY, ERMYNTRUDE AND GWENDOLINE.[In a whisper.] Oh! DINAH.[Trembling.] Miss Dyott! [Tyler is seen crossing the hall. Peggy runs to the window, and looks out.] PEGGY.No, it isn't—it's the postman. DINAH.A letter from Reginald! [Tyler enters with three letters.] PEGGY.[Sweetly.] Anything for us, Tyler dear? TYLER.[Looking at the letters, which he guards with one arm.] One for Miss Dinah Ranklin'! DINAH.Oh! [Snatching at her letter, which Tyler quickly slips into his pocket.] TYLER.My orders is to hand Miss Ranklin's letters to the missus. [Handing a letter to Peggy.] Miss Hesslerigge. PEGGY.[Surprised.] For me? TYLER.[Looking at the third letter.] a go! GIRLS.What's that? TYLER.Oh, look 'ere, here's—[Dancing with delight.] Oh, crikey! this must be for him! PEGGY.Miss Dyott's husband! GIRLS.The Mystery! [The Girls gather round Tyler and look over his shoulder.] PEGGY.[Reading the address.] It's re-addressed from the Junior Amalgamated Club, St. James's Street. [Snatching the letter from Tyler.] Gracious! "The Honourable Vere Queckett!" GWENDOLINE.The Honourable! ERMYNTRUDE.The Honourable! TYLER.What's that mean? PEGGY.Young ladies, we have been entertaining a swell—unawares! [Returning letter to Tyler.] Take it up. TYLER.Swell or no swell, the person who siles two pairs of boots per diem daily is no friend o' mine. [Tyler goes out.] PEGGY.[Opening her letter.] Oh! From Dinah's Reginald! No, no! DINAH.Addressed to me. [Referring to the signature.] PEGGY."Reginald Percy Paulover!" DINAH.Read it, read it! [Peggy sits on the sofa, the three girls clustering round her; Dinah kneeling at her feet expectantly.] PEGGY.[Reading.] "Montpelier Square, West Brompton. Dear Miss Hesslerigge, Heaven will reward you. The letter wrapped round a stone which you threw me last night from an upper window of Volumnia House was handed to me after I had compensated the person upon whose head it unfortunately alighted. The news that Dinah has one friend in Volumnia House enabled me to get a little rest between half-past five and six this morning." GWENDOLINE.One friend! ERMYNTRUDE.What about us? [Dinah kisses them.] DINAH.Go on! PEGGY.[Reading.] "Not having closed my eyes for eleven nights, sleep was of distinct value. Now, dear Miss Hesslerigge, inform Dinah that our apartments are quite ready"— GWENDOLINE AND ERMYNTRUDE.Oh! PEGGY."And that I shall present myself at Volumnia College, to fetch away the dear love of my heart, to-night at half-past nine." To-night! GWENDOLINE AND ERMYNTRUDE.To-night! DINAH.Oh, I've come over so frightened! PEGGY.To-night! [Waving the letter and dancing round with delight.] GWENDOLINE.Finish the letter. PEGGY.[Resuming her seat, and reading with emotion.] "Please assure Dinah that I shall love her till death, and that the piano is now moving in. Dinah is my one thought. The former is on the three years' system. Kiss my angel for me. Our carpet is Axminster, and, I regret to say, second-hand. But, oh! our life will be a blessed, blessed dream—the worn part going well under the centre table. This evening at half-past nine. Gratefully yours, Reginald Percy Paulover. P.S.—I shall be closely muffled up, as the corner lamp-post under which I stand is visible from the window of Admiral Rank-ling's dining-room. You will know me by my faithful, trusty respirator." Oh! I'm so excited! I wish somebody was coming for me! ERMYNTRUDE.I know—we shall be frustrated by Jane! GWENDOLINE.Or Tyler! Leave them to me PEGGY.—I'll manage 'em! DINAH.But there's Miss Dyott's husband! PEGGY.What? Let the mysterious person who has won Miss Dyott pause before he steps between a young bride and bridegroom! Ladies, Miss Dyott's husband is ours for the holidays. One frown from him and his dinners shall be wrecked, his wine watered, his cigars dampened. He shall find us not girls but Gorgons! [A loud knock and ring are heard at the front door. Jane crosses the hall.] ERMYNTRUDE, GWENDOLINE, AND DINAH.[ Under their breath.] Miss Dyott! Miss Dyott! [They quickly disappear. Peggy remains, hastily concealing the letter. Miss Dyott enters. She is a good-looking, dark woman of dignified presence and rigid demeanour, her dress and manner being those of the typical schoolmistress.] Is that Miss Hesslerigge? PEGGY.[Demurely.] Yes, Miss Dyott. MISS DYOTT.How have the young ladies been employing themselves? PEGGY.I have been reading aloud to them, Miss Dyott. MISS DYOTT.Is Mr. Que———is my husband down yet? PEGGY.I've not had the pleasure of seeing him, Miss Dyott. MISS DYOTT.You can join the young ladies, thank you. PEGGY.Thank you, Miss Dyott. [In the doorway she waves Reginald's letter defiantly, but quickly disappears as Miss Dyott turns round.] MISS DYOTT.Now, if Vere will only remain upstairs a few moments longer! [She goes hurriedly to the left-hand door, listens, and turns the key, then to the centre door, listens again and appears satisfied, after which she throws open the window and waves her handkerchief, calling in a loud whisper.] Mr. Bernstein! Mr. Bernstein! I have left the door on the latch. Come in, please. [Closing the window and going to the door. Very shortly afterwards, Otto Bernstein, a little elderly German, with the air of a musician, enters the room.] Thank you for following me so quickly. [Closing the door and turning the key.] BERNSTEIN.You seemed so agitated that I came after your cab mit anoder. MISS DYOTT.Agitated—yes. Tell me—miserable woman that I am—tell me, what did I sound like at rehearsal this morning? BERNSTEIN.Cabital—cabital. Your voice comes out rich and peautiful. Marks my vord—you will make a hit to-night. Have you seen your new name in de pills? MISS DYOTT.The pills? BERNSTEIN.The blay-pills. MISS DYOTT.I should drop flat on the pavement, if I did. BERNSTEIN.It looks very vine. [Quoting.] "Miss Gonstance Delaporte as Queen Honorine, in Otto Bernstein's new Gomic Opera, 'Pierrette,' her vurst abbearance in London." MISS DYOTT.Oh, how disgraceful! BERNSTEIN.Disgraceful! To sing such melodies! No—no, please. Disgraceful! Vy did you appeal to me, dree weeks ago, to put you in the vay of getting through the Christmas vacation? MISS DYOTT.[Tearfully.] You don't know everything. Sit down! I can trust you. You are my oldest friend, and were a pupil of my late eminent father. Mr. Bernstein, I am no longer a single woman. BERNSTEIN.Oh, I am very bleased. I wish you many happy returns of the—eh—no—I congratulate you. MISS DYOTT.I am married secretly—secretly, because my husband could never face the world of fashion as the consort of the proprietress of a scholastic establishment. You will gather from this that my husband is a gentleman. BERNSTEIN.H'm—so—is he? MISS DYOTT.It had been a long-cherished ambition with me, if ever I married, to wed no one but a gentleman. I do not mean a gentleman in a mere parliamentary sense—I mean a man of birth, blood, and breeding. Respect my confidence—I have wedded the Honourable Vere Queckett. BERNSTEIN.[Unconcernedly.] Ah! Is he a very nice man? MISS DYOTT.Nice! Mr. Bernstein, you are speaking of a brother of Lord Limehouse! BERNSTEIN.Oh, am I? Lord Limehouse—let me tink—he is very—very—vot you gall it?—very popular just now. Yah—yah—he is in the Bankruptcy Court! MISS DYOTT.[With pride.] Certainly. So is Harold Archideckne Queckett, Vere's youngest brother. So is Loftus Martineau Queckett, Vere's cousin. They have always been a very united family. But, dear Mr. Bernstein, you have accidentally probed the one—I won't say fault—the one most remarkable attribute of these great Saxon Quecketts. BERNSTEIN.Oh yes, I see; you have to pay your husband's leedle pills. MISS DYOTT.Quite so—that is it. I have the honour of being employed in the gradual discharge of liabilities incurred by Mr. Vere Queckett since the year 1876. I am also engaged in the noble task of providing Mr. Queckett with the elaborate necessities of his present existence. BERNSTEIN.I know now vy you vanted mine help. MISS DYOTT.Ah, yes! Volumnia College is not equal to the grand duty imposed upon it. It is absolutely necessary that I should increase my income. In my despair at facing this genial season I wrote to you. BERNSTEIN.Proposing to turn your cabital voice to account, eh? MISS DYOTT.Quite so—and suggesting that I should sing in your new Oratorio.. BERNSTEIN.Well, you are going to do zo. MISS DYOTT.What! When you have induced me to figure in a comic opera! BERNSTEIN.Yah, yah—but I have told you I have used the music of my new Oratorio for my new Gomic Opera. MISS DYOTT.Ah, yes—that is my only consolation. BERNSTEIN.Vill your goot gentleman be in the stalls to-night? MISS DYOTT.In the stalls—at the theatre! Hush, Mr. Bernstein, it is a secret from Vere. Lest his suspicions should be aroused by my leaving home every evening, I have led him to think that I am visiting a clergyman's wife at Hereford. I shall really be lodging in Henrietta Street, Covent Garden. BERNSTEIN.Oh, vy not tell him all about it? MISS DYOTT.Nonsense! Vere is a gentleman; he would insist upon attending me to and from the theatre. BERNSTEIN.Veil, I should hope so. MISS DYOTT.No—no. He is himself a graceful dancer. A common chord of sympathy would naturally be struck between him and the coryphÉes. Oh, there is so much variety in Vere's character. BERNSTEIN.Veil, you are a plucky woman; you deserve to be happy zome day. MISS DYOTT.Happy! Think of the deception I am practising upon dear Vere! Think of the people who believe in the rigid austerity of Caroline Dyott, Principal of Volumnia College. Think of the precious confidence reposed in me by the parents and relations of twenty-seven innocent pupils. Give an average of eight and a half relations to each pupil; multiply eight and a half by twenty-seven and you approximate the number whose trust I betray this night! BERNSTEIN.Yes, but tink of the audience you will delight tonight in my Oratorio—I mean my Gomic Opera. Oh, that reminds me. [Taking out a written paper from a pocket-book.] Here are two new verses of the Bolitical Song for you to commit to memory before this evening. They are extremely goot. MISS DYOTT.Looking at the paper. Mr. Bernstein, surely here is a veiled allusion to—yes, I thought so. Oh, the unwarrantable familiarity! I can't—I can't—even vocally allude to a perfect stranger as the Grand Old Man! BERNSTEIN.Oh, now, now—he von't mind dat! MISS DYOTT.But the tendency of the chorus—[reading] "Doesn't he wish he may get it!" is opposed to my stern political convictions! Oh, what am I coming to? [Queckett's voice is heard.] QUECKETT.[Calling outside.] Caroline! Caroline! MISS DYOTT.Here's Vere! [Hurriedly to Bernstein.] Goodbye, dear Mr. Bernstein—you understand why I cannot present you. BERNSTEIN.[Bustling.] Good-bye—till to-night. Marks my vord, you vil make a great hit. QUECKETT.[Calling.] Caroline! MISS DYOTT.[Unlocking the centre door.] Go—let yourself out. BERNSTEIN.Goot luck to you! MISS DYOTT.[Opening the door.] Yes, yes. BERNSTEIN.And success to my new Oratorio—I mean my Gomic Opera. MISS DYOTT.Oh, go! [She pushes him out and closes the door, leaning against it faintly.] QUECKETT.[Rattling the other door.] I say, Caroline! MISS DYOTT.[Calling to him.] Is that my darling Vere? QUECKETT.[Outside.] Yes. [She comes to the other door, unlocks and opens it. Vere Queckett enters. He is a fresh, breezy, dapper little gentleman of about forty-five, with fair curly hair, a small waxed moustache, and a simple boyish manner. He is dressed in the height of fashion and wears a flower in his coat, and an eyeglass.] QUECKETT.Good-morning, Caroline, good-morning. MISS DYOTT.How is my little pet to-day? [Kissing his cheek, which he turns to her for the purposed] Naughty Vere is down later than usual. It isn't my fault, dear, the florist was late in sending my flower. MISS DYOTT.What a shame! QUECKETT.[Shaking out a folded silk handkerchief.] Oh, by-the-bye, Carrie, I want some fresh perfume in my bottles. MISS DYOTT.My Vere shall have it. QUECKETT.Thank you—thank you. [Sitting before the fire, opening the newspaper, and humming a tune.] Let me see—let me see. Ah, here we are—"Court of Bankruptcy—before the Official Receiver." Lime-house came up again for hearing yesterday. How they bother him! They bothered me in '75. Now, here's a coincidence, Carrie. In 1875 my assets were nil—in 1885 dear old Bob's assets are nil. Now that's deuced funny. MISS DYOTT.Vere, dear, have you forgotten what to-day is? QUECKETT.[Referring to the head of paper.] December the twenty-second. MISS DYOTT.Yes, but it's the day on which I am to quit my Verey. QUECKETT.Oh, you've stuck to going, then! Well, I daresay you're right, you know. You've a very bad cold. Nothing like change for a bad cold—change of scene, change of pocket-handkerchiefs, and so on. MISS DYOTT.But you don't say anything about your own lonely Christmas. I have married a man who is too unselfish. [The centre door opens slightly, and the heads of the three girls, Peggy, Gwendoline, and Ermyntrude appear one above the other, spying.] QUECKETT.[Putting down his paper.] Lonely? By Jove, these inquisitive pupils of yours won't let a fellow be lonely! Upon my soul, they are vexing girls. MISS DYOTT.But they are a source of income, dear. QUECKETT.They are a source of annoyance. I've never had the measles. I've half a mind to catch it and give it to 'em. Now if I could only while away my evenings somewhere, these vexing girls wouldn't so much matter. [He rises, the heads disappear, and the door closes. Listening.] What was that? MISS DYOTT.The front door, I think. QUECKETT.I thought it might be those vexing girls—they're always prying about. I was going to say, Carrie, why not let me withdraw my resignation at the Junior Amalgamated Club and continue my membership? MISS DYOTT.Ten guineas a year for such an object I cannot afford and will not pay, Vere. QUECKETT.Upon my soul, I might just as well be nobody, the way I'm treated. MISS DYOTT.Oh, my king, don't say that! Have you thought about the Christmas expenses? QUECKETT.Frankly, my dear, I have not. MISS DYOTT.Have you forgotten that my rent is due on Friday? QUECKETT.Completely. MISS DYOTT.And then think—only think of your boots! QUECKETT.Oh, dash it all—what man of any position ever thinks of his boots? [Producing a letter.] The fact is, Caroline, I have had a note—sent on to me from the club—from my friend, Jack Mallory. He is first-lieutenant on the "Pandora," you know, and just home after four years at Malta. He reached London yesterday, and writes me—[Reading] "Now, old chap, do let's have one of our old rollicking nights together, and"— MISS DYOTT.What! QUECKETT.Eh? [Correcting himself ] He writes me—[Referring to the letter.] "Now, old chap, do let me give you the details of our new self-loading eighty-ton gun." Well, Carrie, what the deuce am I to do? It seems a nice gun. [She shrugs her shoulders.] Carrie, what is your Vere to do? [She makes no answer, he approaches her and touches her on the shoulder.']Carrie. Carrie, look at your Vere. Vere speaks to you. [He sits on her lap, she looks up affectionately.] Carrie, darling, you know old Jack is such a devil— MISS DYOTT.Eh? QUECKETT.A nice devil, you know—an exceedingly nice devil. Now I can't show up at the Club after sending in my resignation—they'd quiz me awfully. But I must entertain poor old Jack. [Coaxingly.] Eh? Resignation sent in through misunderstanding, eh? [Pinching her cheek.] Ten little ginny. winnies, eh? MISS DYOTT.Not a ginny-winriy! For a Club, not half a ginny-winny! QUECKETT.Caroline, you forget what is due to me. MISS DYOTT.I wish I could forget what is due to everybody. Don't be cross, Vere. I'll fetch your hat and coat, and Vere shall go out for his little morning stroll. And if he promises not to be angry with his Caroline, there are five shillings to spend. [She gives him some silver; he looks up beamingly again.] QUECKETT.My darling! MISS DYOTT.[Taking his face between her hands and kissing him.] Um—you spoilt boy! [She runs out.] QUECKETT.Now what am I to do about Jack? I can't ask him here. Carrie would never allow it, and if she would I couldn't stand the chaff about marrying a Boarding School. No, I can't ask Jack here. Why can't I ask Jack here? Everybody in bed at nine o'clock—square the boy Tyler to wait. Bachelor lodgings, near Portland Place. Extremely good address. Jack shall give me the details of that eighty-ton gun. Yes—and we'll load it, too. While I'm out I'll send this wire to Jack. QUECKETT.[Taking a telegraph form from the stationery-cabinet, and writing.] "Come up to-night, dear old boy. Nine-thirty, sharp. Diggings of humble bachelor. 80, Duke Street, Portland Place. Bring two or three good fellows. Vere." How much does that come to? [Counting the words rapidly.] One—two—three—four—five—no. [Getting confused.] One—two—three—four—five—six—no. One—two—three—four—five—six. [Counting to the end.] I think it is one and something half-penny—but it's all luck under the new regulations. Oh, and I haven't addressed it! Where's Jack's letter? [He takes the letter from his pocket. Peggy enters quietly. Seeing Queckett, she draws back, watching him.] PEGGY.[To herself] What is he doing now—the Guy Fawkes? QUECKETT.[Referring to the letter.] Ah, "Rovers' Club"! [Addressing the telegram.] "John Mallory, Rover's Club." Let me see—that's in Green Street, Piccadilly. [Writing.] "Green Street, Piccadilly." Or am I thinking of the "Stragglers'"? I've a Club list upstairs—I'll go and look at it. [Humming an air, he shuts up the telegraph form in the blotting-book, and rises, still with his back to Peggy.] I feel so happy! [He goes out.] PEGGY.[Advances to the blotting-book, carrying some luggage labels.] Miss Dyott has sent me to address her luggage labels. I am compelled to open that blotting-book. [She sits on the chair lately vacated by Queckett, and opens the blotting-book mischievously with her forefinger and thumb. Seeing the telegraph form.] Ah! [Reading it greedily, with exclamations.] Oh! "Dear old boy!" Oh! "Diggings of humble bachelor!" Oh! "Bring two or three good fellows!" Oh-oh! [Sticking the telegraph form prominently against the stationery cabinet, facing her, and addressing a luggage label.] "Miss Dyott, passenger to Hereford." QUECKETT.[Re-entering gaily.] It is in Green Street, Piccadilly. [He sees Peggy, and stands perplexed, twisting his little moustache.] PEGGY.[Writing solemnly.] "Miss Dyott, passenger to Hereford." QUECKETT.[Coughing anxiously.] H'm! I fancy I left an eighty-ton gun—I mean, I think I've mislaid a—er——-[Without looking up, Peggy re-adjusts the telegraph form against the cabinet.] Oh! H'm! That's it. [He makes one or two fidgety attempts to take it, when Peggy rises with it in her hand. She reads it silently, forming the words with her lips.] Oh, you vexing girl! What do you think of doing about it? [She commences to fold the form very neatly.] You know I sha'n't send it. I never meant to send it. I say, I shall not send it. [Nervously holding out his hand.] Shall I? [Peggy doubles up the form into another fold without speaking.] You are a vexing girl. MISS DYOTT.[Calling outside.] Miss Hesslerigge! [Peggy quietly slips the telegraph form into her pocket.] QUECKETT.Oh! You won't tell my wife? You will not dare to tell my wife! [Mildly.] Will you? MISS DYOTT.[Calling again.] Miss Hesslerigge! QUECKETT.[In agony.] Oh! [Between his teeth.] Do you—do you know any bad language? PEGGY.I went to the Lord Mayor's Show once; I heard a little. QUECKETT.Then I regret to say I use it to you, Miss Hesslerigge—I use it to you! [Miss Dyott enters, carrying Queckett's hat, gloves and overcoat.] MISS DYOTT.You can address the labels in another room, Miss Hesslerigge, please. QUECKETT.[To himself.] Will she tell? PEGGY.[To herself.] He is in our power! [Peggy goes out.] MISS DYOTT.[Putting the hat on Queckett's head.] You look sickly, my Vere. QUECKETT.I shall be better after my stroll, Caroline. [A knock and ring are heard.] MISS DYOTT.[Assisting Queckett with his overcoat.] As you have some solitary evenings before you, you may lay in a few cigars, Vere darling. QUECKETT.Thank you, Carrie. MISS DYOTT.[Helping him to put on his gloves like a child.] But, for the sake of our depressed native industries, I beg that you will order those of purely British origin and manufacture. [Tyler enters carrying a large common black tea-tray upon which is a solitary visiting-card.] Where's the salver, you bad boy! TYLER.[Pointing to Queckett sullenly.] 'E slopped his choc'late over it. MISS DYOTT.[Taking the card.] Admiral and Mrs. Rankling—Dinah's parents! I must see them. QUECKETT.[Hastily turning up his collar to conceal his face.] No, no! They know me—they are old friends of my family's! [Tyler shows in Admiral and Mrs. Rankling. Mrs. Rankling is a thin, weak looking, faded lady, with a pale face and anxious eyes. She is dressed in too many colours, and nothing seems to fit very well. Admiral Rankling is a stout, fine old gentleman with short crisp grey hair and fierce black eyebrows. He appears to be suffering inwardly from intense anger.] MISS DYOTT.My dear Mrs. Rankling. [The ladies shake hands. Tyler goes out.] MRS. RANKLING.[Pointing to Rankling.] This is Admiral Rankling. [Miss Dyott bows ceremoniously. Rankling returns a slight bow and glares at her.] MISS DYOTT.[To Mrs. Rankling.] Pray sit by the fire. [As the ladies move to the fire, Queckett, who has been watching his opportunity, creeps round at the back and goes out.] MRS. RANKLING.[Warming her feet at the fire.] The Admiral has called upon you, Miss Dyott, with reference to our child, Dinah. [Rankling, with a smothered exclamation of rage, sits on the sofa.] MISS DYOTT.Whom we find the charming daughter of charming parents. [Rankling gives her a fierce look, which frightens Miss Dyott, who is most anxious to conciliate the Admiral.] MRS. RANKLING.Dinah's obstinacy is a very serious shock to the Admiral, who is naturally unused to insubordination. MISS DYOTT.Naturally. [Rankling glares at her again; she puts her hand to her heart.] MRS. RANKLING.The Admiral has been stationed with his ship at Malta for a long period—in fact the Admiral has not brightened our home for over four years. MISS DYOTT.How more than delightful to have him with you again! [Rankling gives Miss Dyott a fearful look, she clutches her chair.] MRS. RANKLING.The Admiral has one of those fine English tempers—generous but impetuous. You may guess the sad impression Dinah's ingratitude has produced upon him. It is an open secret that the Admiral made three wills yesterday, and read King Lear's curse after supper in place of Thanksgiving. RANKLING.[Sharply.] Emma! [Starting.] Yes, Archibald. RANKLING.Leave the fire—you'll be chilled when we go. Come over here. MRS. RANKLING.Yes, Archibald. [Crossing the room in a flutter, and sitting beside Rankling, who makes insufficient room for her.] MRS. RANKLING.Thank you, Archibald. I have been sitting up with the Admiral all night, and it is owing to my entreaties that he has consented to give Dinah one last chance of reconciliation. RANKLING.[Who has been eyeing her.] Emma! MRS. RANKLING.Yes, Archibald. RANKLING.Your bonnet's on one side again. MRS. RANKLING.[Adjusting it.] Thank you, Archibald. We leave town for the holidays to-morrow; it rests with Dinah whether she spends Christmas in her papa's society or not. RANKLING.Don't twitch your fingers, Emma—don't twitch your fingers. MRS. RANKLING.[Nervously.] It's a habit, Archibald. RANKLING.It's a very bad one. MRS. RANKLING.All we require is that Dinah should personally assure us that she has banished every thought of the foolish young gentleman she met at Mrs. St. Dunstan's. MISS DYOTT.[Rising and ringing the bell.] If I am any student of the passing fancies of a young girl's mind— RANKLING.Speak louder, ma'am—your voice doesn't travel. MISS DYOTT.[Nervously—with a gulp.] If I am any student of the passing—fancies—[Rankling puts his hand to his ear.] Oh, don't make me so nervous. [Jane enters looking untidy, her sleeves turned up, and wiping her hands on her apron.] MISS DYOTT.[Shocked.] Where is the man-servant? JANE.On a herring, ma'am. MISS DYOTT.Ask Miss Dinah Rankling to be good enough to step downstairs. [Jane goes out. Rankling rises, with Mrs. Rankling clinging to his arm.] MRS. RANKLING.You will be calm, Archibald—you will be moderate in tone. [With a little nervous cough.] Oh, dear! poor Dinah! RANKLING.Stop that fidgety cough, Emma. [Stalking about the room, his wife following him.] MRS. RANKLING.Even love-matches are sometimes very happy. Our was a love-match, Archibald. RANKLING.Be quiet—we're exceptions. [Pacing up to the door just as it opens, and Peggy presents herself. Directly Rankling sees Peggy, he catches her by the shoulders, and gives her a good shaking.] MISS DYOTT.Admiral! MRS. RANKLING.Archibald! PEGGY.[Being shaken.] Oh—oh—oh—oh! RANKLING.[Panting, and releasing Peggy.] You good-for-nothing girl! Do you know you have upset your mother? MRS. RANKLING.Archibald, that isn't Dinah! MISS DYOTT.That is another young lady. RANKLING.[Aghast.] What—not——Who—who has led me into this unpardonable error of judgment? MRS. RANKLING.[To Peggy, who is rubbing her shoulders and looking vindictively at Rankling.] Oh, my dear young lady, pray think of this only as an amusing mistake. The Admiral has been away for more than four years—Dinah was but a child when he last saw her. [Weeping.] Oh, dear me! RANKLING.Be quiet, Emma—you'll make a scene. [To Peggy.] Where is Miss Rankling? PEGGY.Miss Rankling presents her compliments to Miss Dyott, and her love to her papa and mamma, and, as her mind is quite made up, she would rather not cause distress by granting an interview. [Rankling sinks into a chair.] MRS. RANKLING.Archibald! MISS DYOTT.[To Peggy.] The port wine! [Peggy advances with the cake and wine.] MRS. RANKLING.[Kneeling to Rankling.] Archibald, be yourself! Remember, you have to respond for the Navy at a banquet to-night. Think of your reputation as a Genial After-dinner Speaker! RANKLING.[Rising with forced calmness.] Thank you, Emma. [To Miss Dyott.] Madam, my daughter is in your charge till you receive instructions from my solicitor. [Glaring at Peggy.] A short written apology shall be sent to this young lady in the course of the afternoon. [To his wife!] Emma, your hair's rough—come home. [He gives Mrs. Rankling his arm. They go out. Miss Dyott sinks exhausted on sofa. Peggy offers her a glass of wine.] MISS DYOTT.Oh, my goodness! [Declining the wine.] No, no—not that. It has been decanted since Midsummer. [Queckett, his coat collar turned tip, appears at the door looking back over his shoulder.] QUECKETT.What's the matter with the Ranklings? [Seeing Miss Dyott and Peggy.] Oh! has that vexing girl told Caroline? [The clock strikes two.] MISS DYOTT.[To herself!] Two o'clock—I must remove to Henrietta Street. [Seeing Queckett.] My darling. QUECKETT.My love. [To himself] All right. MISS DYOTT.I am going to prepare for my journey—the train leaves Paddington at three. [As Miss Dyott goes towards the centre door, Jane enters carrying about twenty boxes of cigars, which she deposits on the floor and then goes out.] What is this? QUECKETT.H'm! my cigars, Carrie—brought 'em with me in a cab. MISS DYOTT.Oh! [Reading the label of one of the boxes.] "Por Carolina." Ah, poor Caroline. [She goes out. Directly she is gone, Peggy and Queckett, by a simultaneous movement, rush to the two doors and close them.] QUECKETT.Now, Miss Hesslerigge! PEGGY.Sir. QUECKETT.We will come to a distinct understanding. PEGGY.If you please. QUECKETT.In the first place, you will return me my telegram. PEGGY.I can't. QUECKETT.You mean you won't. PEGGY.No, I can't. QUECKETT.Why not? PEGGY.I have just sent it to the telegraph office, by Tyler. QUECKETT.Despatched it! PEGGY.Despatched it—it was one and fourpence. QUECKETT.Oh, you—you—you vexing girl! Mr. Mallory will be here to-night. PEGGY.Yes—and will "Bring two or three good fellows." At least we hope so. QUECKETT.Hope so! PEGGY.[Standing over him with her arms folded.] Listen, Mr. Vere Queckett. [He starts.] We ladies are going to give a little party to-night to celebrate a serious event in the life of one of us. We have invited only one young gentleman; your friends will be welcome. QUECKETT.Oh! PEGGY.Without us your party must fail, for we command the servants. Let it be a compact—your soirÉe shall be our soirÉe, and our soirÉe your soirÉe. QUECKETT.And if I indignantly decline? PEGGY.[Solemnly.] Consider, Mr. Queckett—your Christmas holidays are to be passed with us. Think in which direction your comfort and freedom lie—in friendship or in enmity? Even now, Ermyntrude Johnson is trimming the holly with one of your razors. QUECKETT.But what explanation could I give Mr. Mallory of your presence here? PEGGY.Every detail has been considered. You are our bachelor uncle. QUECKETT.Uncle! PEGGY.We are your four nieces. [Queckett looks up—is tickled by the idea, and bursts out laughing. Peggy joins.] I don't see why that shouldn't be rather jolly. PEGGY.[Roguishly.] D'ye consent? QUECKETT.Can't help myself—can I? PEGGY.[Delighted] That you can't. QUECKETT.Let's be friends, then—shall we? Have you girls got any money? PEGGY.No. Have you? QUECKETT.No! that is, all mine's invested. MISS DYOTT.[Outside.] Tyler, fetch a cab. [Queckett makes a bolt from the room, and Peggy vigorously re-arranges the furniture as Miss Dyott enters, dressed as if for a journey, and carrying her umbrella and hand-bag again. ] Where is my husband? PEGGY.[Looking about her.] Your hand-bag, Miss Dyott? [Queckett re-enters.] MISS DYOTT.Still in your overcoat, dear? QUECKETT.Of course, Carrie. I'll drive with you to Paddington. MISS DYOTT.No, no—I insist on going alone. QUECKETT.[Taking off his coat with alacrity.] Oh, Carrie, I am disappointed! [Dinah, Gwendoline, and Ermyntrude come through the hall, into the room, and form a group. Jane enters the hall. Tyler joins her there.] MISS DYOTT.Miss Hesslerigge—young ladies. I regret to say I am compelled to—to quit Volumnia House for a time. The length of my absence depends upon how long it runs—[correcting herself in confusion]—upon how long it runs to it, to employ a colloquialism of the vulgar. But I depart with a light heart, because I leave my husband in authority. He will find a trusty lieutenant in Miss Hesslerigge. Ladies, to abandon for the moment our mother tongue, Je vous embrasse de tout mon cour—soyez sages! GIRLS.[Together.] Au revoir, Mademoiselle Dyott! Bon voyage, Mademoiselle Dyott! [Peggy joins the Girls and they talk earnestly. A Cabman is seen carrying out the boxes from the hall, assisted by Tyler. Miss Dyott produces some paper packets of money from her hand-bag.] MISS DYOTT.[As she gives the packets to Queckett.] Vere, the house-agent will apply for the rent—there it is. Our fire insurance expired yesterday—post the premium to the Eagle Office at once. Jane's wages are due next week—deduct for the broken water bottle. When you need exercise, dear one, tidy up the back yard—the recreation ground. A charwoman assists Jane on Fridays—three quarters of a day, and leaves before her tea. Good-bye, Vere. TYLER.The cab's a-waitin', ma'am. [Miss Dyott takes Queckett's arm.] THE GIRLS.Good-bye, Miss Dyott. [Miss Dyott and Queckett go out through the hall. Peggy, Ermyntrude, and Gwendoline run over to the windows and look out. Dinah sits apart, thinking.] ERMYNTRUDE.There they are! GWENDOLINE.Miss Dyott's in the cab! PEGGY.She's off. THE THREE.Hurrah! Hurrah! [Queckett returns, the Girls surround him demonstratively.] PEGGY.Dinah—young ladies—[pointing to Queckett]—Uncle Vere! ERMYNTRUDE AND GWENDOLINE.[Together.] Uncle Vere! Uncle Vere! [Queckett tries to maintain his dignity, and pushes the girls from him. Tyler, with Jane, is seen letting off a squib in the hall.] END OF THE FIRST ACT.
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