Soldiers Three Volume I Part 34

CAPT. G. (_Aside._) Good old Jack! (_Aloud._) Why, dear?

MRS. G. He had put his cup down on the ground then, and he literally stepped into it. Some of the tea spirted over my dress--the gray one. I meant to tell you about it before.

CAPT. G. (_Aside._) There are the makings of a strategist about Jack, though his methods are coa.r.s.e. (_Aloud._) You'd better get a new dress, then. (_Aside._) Let us pray that that will turn her.

MRS. G. Oh, it isn't stained in the least. I only thought that I'd tell you. (_Returning to letter._) _What_ an extraordinary person! (_Reads._) 'But need I remind you that you have taken upon yourself a charge of wardship'--what in the world is a charge of wardship?--'which, as you yourself know, may end in Consequences--'

CAPT. G. (_Aside._) It's safest to let 'em see everything as they come across it; but 'seems to me that there are exceptions to the rule.

(_Aloud._) I told you that there was nothing to be gained from rearranging my table.

MRS. G. (_Absently._) What _does_ the woman mean? She goes on talking about Consequences--'almost inevitable Consequences' with a capital C--for half a page. (_Flushing scarlet._) Oh, good gracious! How abominable!

CAPT. G. (_Promptly._) Do you think so? Doesn't it show a sort of motherly interest in us? (_Aside._) Thank Heaven, Harry always wrapped her meaning up safely! (_Aloud._) Is it absolutely necessary to go on with the letter, darling?

MRS. G. It's impertinent--it's simply horrid. What _right_ has this woman to write in this way to you? She oughtn't to.

CAPT. G. When you write to the Deercourt girl, I notice that you generally fill three or four sheets. Can't you let an old woman babble on paper once in a way? She means well.

MRS. G. I don't care. She shouldn't write, and if she did, you ought to have shown me her letter.

CAPT. G. Can't you understand why I kept it to myself, or must I explain at length--as I explained the farcy-buds?

MRS. G. (_Furiously._) Pip, I _hate_ you! This is as bad as those idiotic saddle-bags on the floor. Never mind whether it would please me or not, you ought to have given it to me to read.

CAPT. G. It comes to the same thing. You took it yourself.

MRS. G. Yes, but if I hadn't taken it, you wouldn't have said a word.

I think this Harriet Herriott--it's like a name in a book--is an interfering old Thing.

CAPT. G. (_Aside._) So long as you thoroughly understand that she _is_ old, I don't much care what you think. (_Aloud._) Very good, dear. Would you like to write and tell her so? She's seven thousand miles away.

MRS. G. I don't want to have anything to do with her, but you ought to have told me. (_Turning to last page of letter._) And she patronises _me_, too. _I_'ve never seen her! (_Reads._) 'I do not know how the world stands with you; in all human probability I shall never know; but whatever I may have said before, I pray for _her_ sake more than for yours that all may be well. I have learnt what misery means, and I dare not wish that any one dear to you should share my knowledge.'

CAPT. G. Good G.o.d! Can't you leave that letter alone, or, at least, can't you refrain from reading it aloud? I've been through it once. Put it back on the desk. Do you hear me?

MRS. G. (_Irresolutely._) I sh--shan't! (_Looks at_ G'.s _eyes._) Oh, Pip, _please!_ I didn't mean to make you angry--'Deed, I didn't. Pip, I'm so sorry. I know I've wasted your time----

CAPT. G. (_Grimly._) You have. Now, will you be good enough to go--if there is nothing more in my room that you are anxious to pry into?

MRS. G. (_Putting out her hands._) Oh, Pip, don't look at me like that!

I've never seen you look like that before and it hu-urts me! I'm sorry.

I oughtn't to have been here at all, and--and--and--(_sobbing_). Oh, be good to me! Be good to me! There's only you--anywhere!

_Breaks down in long chair, hiding face in cushions._

CAPT. G. (_Aside._) She doesn't know how she flicked me on the raw.

(_Aloud, bending over chair._) I didn't mean to be harsh, dear--I didn't really. You can stay here as long as you please, and do what you please.

Don't cry like that. You'll make yourself sick. (_Aside._) What on earth has come over her? (_Aloud._) Darling, what's the matter with you?

MRS. G. (_Her face still hidden._) Let me go--let me go to my own room.

Only--only say you aren't angry with me.

CAPT. G. Angry with _you_, love! Of course not. I was angry with myself.

I'd lost my temper over the saddlery--Don't hide your face, p.u.s.s.y. I want to kiss it.

_Bends lower_, MRS. G. _slides right arm round his neck. Several interludes and much sobbing._

MRS. G. (_In a whisper._) I didn't mean about the jam when I came in to tell you----

CAPT. G. Bother the jam and the equipment! (_Interlude._)

MRS. G. (_Still more faintly._) My finger wasn't scalded at _all_. I--I wanted to speak to you about--about--something else, and--I didn't know how.

CAPT. G. Speak away, then. (_Looking into her eyes._) Eh! Wha--at?

Minnie! Here, don't go away! You don't mean?

MRS. G. (_Hysterically, backing to portiere and hiding her face in its folds._) The--the Almost Inevitable Consequences! (_Flits though portiere as_ G. _attempts to catch her, and bolts herself in her own room._)

CAPT. G. (_His arms full of portiere._) Oh! (_Sitting down heavily in chair._) I'm a brute--a pig--a bully, and a blackguard. My poor, poor little darling! 'Made to be amused only--?

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW

Knowing Good and Evil.

SCENE.--_The_ GADSBYS' _bungalow in the Plains, in June. Punkah-coolies asleep in veranda where_ CAPTAIN GADSBY _is walking up and down._ DOCTOR'S _trap in porch._ JUNIOR CHAPLAIN _drifting generally and uneasily through the house. Time,_ 3.40 A. M. _Heat 94 degrees in veranda._

DOCTOR. (_Coming into veranda and touching_ G. _on the shoulder._) You had better go in and see her now.

CAPT. G. (_The colour of good cigar-ash._) Eh, wha-at? Oh, yes, of course. What did you say?

DOCTOR. (_Syllable by syllable._) Go--in--to--the--room--and--see--her.

She wants to speak to you. (_Aside, testily._) I shall have _him_ on my hands next.

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. (_In half-lighted dining-room._) Isn't there any--?

DOCTOR. (_Savagely._) Hsh, you little fool!

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. Let me do my work. Gadsby, stop a minute! (_Edges after_ G.)

DOCTOR. Wait till she sends for you at least--_at least_. Man alive, he'll kill you if you go in there! What are you bothering him for?

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. (_Coming into veranda._) I've given him a stiff brandy-peg. He wants it. You've forgotten him for the last ten hours and--forgotten yourself too.

G. _enters bedroom, which is lit by one night-lamp.

Ayah on the floor pretending to be asleep._