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CAPT. M. (_Desperately._) Rein back! Back to your troop! 'Tisn't half legal yet.
PADRE. . . . joined together let no man put asunder.
CAPT. G. _paralysed with fear jibs after Blessing._
CAPT. M. (_Quickly._) On your own front--one length. Take her with you.
I don't come. You've nothing to say. (CAPT. G. _jingles up to altar._)
CAPT. M. (_In a piercing rattle meant to be a whisper._) Kneel, you stiff-necked ruffian! Kneel!
PADRE. . . . whose daughters are ye so long as ye do well and are not afraid with any amazement.
CAPT. M. Dismiss! Break off! Left wheel!
_All troop to vestry. They sign._
CAPT. M. Kiss Her, Gaddy.
CAPT. G. (_Rubbing the ink into his glove._) Eh! Wha--at?
CAPT. M. (_Taking one pace to Bride._) If you don't, I shall.
CAPT. G. (_Interposing an arm._) Not this journey!
_General kissing, in which_ CAPT. G. _is pursued by unknown female._
CAPT. G. (_Faintly to_ M.) This is Hades! Can I wipe my face now?
CAPT. M. My responsibility has ended. Better ask _Missis_ Gadsby.
CAPT. G. _winces as though shot and procession is Mendelssohned out of Church to house, where usual tortures take place over the wedding-cake._
CAPT. M. (_At table._) Up with you, Gaddy. They expect a speech.
CAPT. G. (_After three minutes' agony._) Ha-hmmm. (_Thunders of applause._)
CAPT. M. Doocid good, for a first attempt. Now go and change your kit while Mamma is weeping over--'the Missus.' (CAPT. G. _disappears._ CAPT.
M. _starts up tearing his hair._) It's not _half_ legal. Where are the shoes? Get an _ayah._
AYAH. Missie Captain Sahib done gone _band karo_ all the _jutis._
CAPT. M. (_Brandishing scabbarded sword._) Woman, produce those shoes!
Some one lend me a bread-knife. We mustn't crack Gaddy's head more than it is. (_Slices heel off white satin slipper and puts slipper up his sleeve._) Where is the Bride? (_To the company at large._) Be tender with that rice. It's a heathen custom. Give me the big bag.
_Bride slips out quietly into 'rickshaw and departs towards the sunset._
CAPT. M. (_In the open._) Stole away, by Jove! So much, the worse for Gaddy! Here he is. Now Gaddy, this'll be livelier than Amdheran! Where's your horse?
CAPT. G. (_Furiously, seeing that the women are out of earshot._) Where the ---- is my _Wife?_
CAPT. M. Half-way to Mahasu by this time. You'll have to ride like Young Lochinvar.
_Horse comes round on his hind legs; refuses to let G. handle him._
CAPT. G. Oh you will, will you? Get round, you brute-you hog-you beast!
Get _round!_
_Wrenches horse's head over, nearly breaking lower jaw; swings himself into saddle, and sends home both spurs in the midst of a spattering gale of Best Patna._
CAPT. M. For your life and your love--ride, Gaddy!--And G.o.d bless you!
_Throws half a pound of rice at G., who disappears, bowed forward on the saddle, in a cloud of sunlit dust._
CAPT. M. I've lost old Gaddy. (_Lights cigarette and strolls off, singing absently_):--
'You may carve it on his tombstone, you may cut it on his card, That a young man married is a young man marred!'
MISS DEERCOURT. (_From her horse._) Really, Captain Mafflin! You are more plain spoken than polite!
CAPT. M. (_Aside._) They say marriage is like cholera. 'Wonder who'll be the next victim.
_White satin slipper slides from his sleeve and falls at his feet. Left wondering._
THE GARDEN OF EDEN
And ye shall be as--G.o.ds!
SCENE.--_Thymy gra.s.s-plot at back of the Mahasu dak-bungalow, overlooking little wooded valley. On the left, glimpse of the Dead Forest of f.a.goo; on the right, Simla Hills. In background, line of the Snows._ CAPTAIN GADSBY, _now three weeks a husband, is smoking the pipe of peace on a rug in the sunshine. Banjo and tobacco-pouch on rug.
Overhead the f.a.goo eagles._ MRS. G. _comes out of bungalow._
MRS. G. My husband!
CAPT. G. (_Lazily, with intense enjoyment._) Eh, wha-at? Say that again.
MRS. G. I've written to Mamma and told her that we shall be back on the 17th.
CAPT. G. Did you give her my love?
MRS. G. No, I kept all that for myself. (_Sitting down by his side._) I thought you wouldn't mind.
CAPT. G. (_With mock sternness._) I object awf'ly. How did you know that it was yours to keep?
MRS. G. I guessed, Phil.
CAPT. G. (_Rapturously._) _Lit-tle_ Featherweight!
