The Master of Mrs. Chilvers Part 8

ANNYS [She crosses to her desk by the window. Not the same instant but the next his "Goodbye" strikes her. She turns.]

You're not going out, are you?

GEOFFREY [He stops and turns--puzzled at her question.] No. Only into my study.

ANNYS You said "Goodbye."

GEOFFREY [Not remembering.] _I_ did! Must have been thinking of something else. I shall be in here if you want me. [He goes into the other room.]

ANNYS [She has crossed to her desk. She is humming. She seats herself, takes paper and pen, writes. Without turning--still writing--she raises her voice.] Geoffrey! How do you spell "experimental"? One "r" or two?

[There is no answer. Puzzled at the silence, she looks round. The great folding-doors are closed. She stares in front of her, thinking, then turns again to her work.]

CURTAIN.

THE SECOND ACT

SCENE:- Liberal Central Committee Rooms, East India Dock Road, Poplar. A large, high room on the first floor of an old-fashioned house. Two high windows right. A door at back is the main entrance. A door left leads to other rooms. The walls are papered with election literature. Conspicuous among the posters displayed is "A Man for Men." "No Petticoat Government." "Will you be Henpecked?" A large, round table centre is littered with papers and pamphlets. A large desk stands between the windows. A settee is against the left wall.

[When the curtain rises, ROSE MERTON (otherwise "GINGER") is discovered seated, her left arm resting on the table. She is a young lady typical of the c.o.c.kney slavey type, dressed according to the ideas of her cla.s.s as regards the perfect lady. Her hat is characteristic. Her gloves, her reticule, her umbrella--the latter something rather "saucy"--are displayed around her. She is feeling comfortable and airing her views. MRS. CHINN is laying the cloth over a portion of the table, with some tea-things. MRS. CHINN is a thin, narrow-chested lady with thin hands and bony wrists. No one since her husband died has ever seen her without her bonnet. Its appearance suggests the possibility that she sleeps in it. It is black, like her dress. The whole figure is decent, but dingy.]

GINGER Wot I say about the question is -

MRS. CHINN Do you mind moving your arm?

GINGER Beg pardon. [She shifts.] Wot I say is, why not give us the vote and end all the talking?

MRS. CHINN You think it would have that effect?

GINGER Well! we don't want to go on being a nuisance--longer than we can possibly 'elp!

MRS. CHINN Daresay you're right. It's about the time most people stop.

GINGER You've never thought much about the question yourself, 'ave you, Mrs. Chinn?

MRS. CHINN I ain't fretted much about it.

GINGER Was a time when I didn't. I used to be all for--you know-- larking about. I never thought much about anything.

MRS. CHINN Ah! it's a useful habit.

GINGER What is?

MRS. CHINN Thinking.

GINGER It's what we women 'aven't done enough of--in the past, I mean. All that's going to be altered. In the future there's going to be no difference between men and women.

MRS. CHINN [Slowly, quietly she turns upon GINGER her expressionless eyes.]

GINGER Mentally, I mean, o' course.

MRS. CHINN [Takes back her eyes.]

GINGER Do you know, Mrs. Chinn, that once upon a time there was only one s.e.x? [She spreads herself.] Hus!

MRS. CHINN You ain't thinking of going back to it, are you?

GINGER Not if the men be'ave themselves.

MRS. CHINN Perhaps they're doing their best, poor things! It don't do to be too impatient with them.

GINGER Was talking to old Dot-and-carry-one the other d'y. You know who I mean--chap with the wooden leg as 'as 'is pitch outside the "George." "Wot do you wimmen want worrying yourselves about things outside the 'ome?" 'e says to me. "You've got the children," 'e says. "Oh," I says, "and whose fault's that, I'd like to know? You wait till we've got the vote," I says, "we'll soon show you--"

[SIGSBY enters. SIGSBY is a dapper little man, very brisk and bustling--hirsute--looks as if he wanted dusting, cleaning up generally.]

SIGSBY That young blackguard come back yet?

GINGER [At sound of SIGSBY'S voice she springs up. At first is about to offer excuses for being found seated, but recollects herself.]

MRS. CHINN Which one, sir?

SIGSBY Young Jawbones--what's he call himself?--Gordon.

MRS. CHINN Not yet, sir.

SIGSBY [Grunts.] My chop ready?

MRS. CHINN I expect it's about done. I'll see.

[She goes out.]

SIGSBY [He turns to GINGER.] What can _I_ do for you?

GINGER [She produces a letter.] I was to wait for an answer.

SIGSBY [He opens and reads it.] What do they expect me to do?

GINGER 'Er ladyship thought as perhaps you would consult Mr.

Chilvers 'imself on the subject.

SIGSBY Look here. What I want to know is this: am I being asked to regard Lady Mogton as my opponent's election agent, or as my princ.i.p.al's mother-in-law? That point's got to be settled. [His vehemence deepens.] Look at all these posters. Not to be used, for fear the other side mayn't like them. Now Lady Mogton writes me that my candidate's supporters are not to employ a certain argument she disapproves of: because, if they do, she'll tell his wife. Is this an election, or is it a family jar?

[JAWBONES enters. JAWBONES--otherwise WILLIAM GORDON--is a clean- shaven young hooligan. He wears a bicycle cap on the back of his head, allowing a picturesque tuft of hair to fall over his forehead. Evidently he is suffering from controlled indignation.]

SIGSBY [Seeing him.] Oh, so you've come back, have you?