Six Plays by Lady Florence Henrietta Fisher Darwin Part 8

ELIZABETH. You should know better then. Didn't I tell you to sit still in that chair with your hands folded nicely till we were ready to start.

MAY. Why, I couldn't be sitting there all the while, now could I, Aunt?

ELIZABETH. This'll be the last time as I tie your ribbon, mind.

[She smoothes MAY's hair and ties it up for her. ANNET comes into the room with more flowers.

ELIZABETH. What's your cousin doing now, Annet?

ANNET. The door of her room is still locked, Aunt. And what she says is that she do want to bide alone there

ELIZABETH. In all my days I never did hear tell of such a thing, I don't know what's coming to the world, I don't.

MAY. I count that Millie do like to be all to herself whilst she is a-dressing up grand in her white gown, and the silken cloak and bonnet.

ANNET. Millie's not a-dressing of herself up. I heard her crying pitiful as I was gathering flowers in the garden.

ELIZABETH. Crying? She'll have something to cry about if she doesn't look out, when her father comes in, and hears how she's a- going on.

MAY. I wonder why Cousin Millie's taking on like this. I shouldn't, if 'twas me getting married.

ELIZABETH. Look you, May, you get and run up, and knock at the door and tell her that 'twill soon be time for us to set off to church and that she have got to make haste in her dressing.

MAY. I'll run, Aunt, only 'tis very likely as she'll not listen to anything that I say. [MAY goes out.

ELIZABETH. Now Annet, no idling here, if you please. Set the nosegay in water, and when you've given a look round to see that everything is in its place, upstairs with you, and on with your bonnet, do you hear? Uncle won't wish to be kept waiting for you, remember.

ANNET. I'm all ready dressed, except for my bonnet, Aunt. 'Tis Millie that's like to keep Uncle waiting this morning. [She goes out.

[DANIEL comes in.

DANIEL. Well, Mother--well, girls--but, bless my soul, where's Millie got to?

ELIZABETH. Millie has not seen fit to shew herself this morning, Father. She's biding up in her room with the door locked, and nothing that I've been able to say has been attended to, so perhaps you'll kindly have your try.

DANIEL. Bless my soul--where's May? Where's Annet? Send one of the little maids up to her, and tell her 'tis very nigh time for us to be off.

ELIZABETH. I'm fairly tired of sending up to her, Father. You'd best go yourself.

[MAY comes into the room.

MAY. Please Aunt, the door, 'tis still locked, and Millie is crying ever so sadly within, and she won't open to me, nor speak, nor nothing.

ELIZABETH. There, Father,--perhaps you'll believe what I tell you another time. Millie has got that hardened and wayward, there's no managing of her, there's not.

DANIEL. Ah, 'twon't be very long as us'll have the managing of she.

'Twill be young Andrew as'll take she in hand after this day.

ELIZABETH. 'Tis all very well to talk of young Andrew, but who's a- going to get her to church with him I'd like to know.

DANIEL. Why, 'tis me as'll do it, to be sure.

ELIZABETH. Very well, Father, and we shall all be much obliged to you.

[DANIEL goes to the door and shouts up the stairs.

DANIEL. Well, Millie, my wench. Come you down here. 'Tis time we did set out. Do you hear me, Mill. 'Tis time we was off.

[ELIZABETH waits listening. No answer comes.

DANIEL. Don't you hear what I be saying, Mill? Come you down at once. [There is no answer.

DANIEL. Millie, there be Andrew a-waiting for to take you to church.

Come you down this minute.

ELIZABETH. You'd best take sommat and go and break open the door, Father. 'Tis the sensiblest thing as you can do, only you'd never think of anything like that by yourself.

DANIEL. I likes doing things my own way, Mother. Women-folk, they be so buzzing. 'Tis like a lot of insects around of anyone on a summer's day. A-saying this way and that--whilst a man do go at anything quiet and calm-like. [ANNET comes in.

ANNET. Please, Uncle, Millie says that she isn't coming down for no one.

DANIEL. [Roaring in fury.] What! What's that, my wench--isn't a- coming down for no one? Hear that, Mother, hear that? I'll have sommat to say to that, I will. [Going to the door.

DANIEL. [Roaring up the stairs.] Hark you, Mill, down you comes this moment else I'll smash the door right in, and that I will.

[DANIEL comes back into the room, storming violently.

DANIEL. Ah, 'tis a badly bred up wench is Millie, and her'd have growed up very different if I'd a-had the bringing up of she. But spoiled she is and spoiled her've always been, and what could anyone look for from a filly what's been broke in by women folk!

ELIZABETH. There, there, Father--there's no need to bl.u.s.ter in this fashion. Take up the poker and go and break into the door quiet and decent, like anyone else would do. And girls--off for your bonnets this moment I tell you.

[She takes up a poker and hands it to DANIEL, who mops his face and goes slowly out and upstairs. ANNET and MAY leave the room. The farmer is heard banging at the door of Millie's bedroom.

[ELIZABETH moves about the room setting it in order. ANDREW comes in at the door. He carries a bunch of flowers, which he lays on the table.

ANDREW. Good-morning to you, mistress.

ELIZABETH. Good-morning, Andrew.

ANDREW. What's going on upstairs?

ELIZABETH. 'Tis Father at a little bit of carpentering.

ANDREW. I'm come too soon, I reckon.

ELIZABETH. We know what young men be upon their wedding morn! I warrant as the clock can't run too fast for them at such a time.

ANDREW. You're right there, mistress. But the clock have moved powerful slow all these last few weeks--for look you here, 'tis a month this day since I last set eyes on Mill or had a word from her lips--so 'tis.