Produced by David Widger from page images generously
provided by the Internet Archive











THE LAST OF THE DE MULLINS

A Play without a Preface

By St. John Hankin

London: A. C. Fifield

1909



The Persons in the Play

Hugo De Mullin

Jane De Mullin.....His wife

Mrs. Clouston......His sister.

Janet De Mullin....(Mrs. Seagrave) Hugo’s eldest daughter.

Johnny Seagrave....Her son.

Hester De Mullin...Her sister.

Bertha Aldenham

Monty Bulstead

Dr. Rolt...........The local doctor.

Mr. Brown..........The curate.

Miss Deanes

Ellen..............Maid at the De Mullins’.



The action of the play takes place at Brendon
Underwood in Dorset, Acts I and III at the Manor
House, the De Mullins’ house in the village, Act
II on the borders of Brendon Forest. Three days
pass between Acts I and II, five between Acts II
and III.





ACT I

_Scene:_ The Inner Hall at the Manor House in
Brendon-Underwood village. An old-fashioned
white-panelled room. At the back is a big
stone-mullioned Tudor window looking out on
to the garden. On the left of this is a bay in
which is a smaller window. A door in the bay
leads out into the garden. People entering by
this door pass the window before they appear.
The furniture is oak, mostly Jacobean or older.
The right-hand wall of the room is mainly
occupied by a great Tudor fireplace, over which
the De Mullin Coat of Arms is carved in stone.
Above this a door leads to the outer hall and
front door. A door on the opposite side of the
room leads to the staircase and the rest of the
house. The walls are hung with a long succession
of family portraits of all periods and in all
stages of dinginess as to both canvas and frame.
When the curtain rises the stage is empty. Then
Hester is seen to pass the window at the back,
followed by Mr. Brown. A moment later
they enter. Mr. Brown is a stout, rather
unwholesome-looking curate, Hester a lean,
angular girl of twenty-eight, very plainly and
unattractively dressed in sombre tight-fitting
clothes. She has a cape over her shoulders and
a black hat on. Brown wears seedy clerical
garments, huge boots and a squashy hat. The time
is twelve o’clock in the morning of a fine day
in September.



HESTER

Come in, Mr. Brown. I’ll tell mother you’re
here. I expect she’s upstairs with father (going
towards door).



BROWN

Don’t disturb Mrs. De Mullin, please. I didn’t
mean to come in.



HESTER

You’ll sit down now you _are_ here?



BROWN

Thank you (_does so awkwardly_). I’m so glad to
hear Mr. De Mullin is better. The Vicar will be
glad too.



HESTER

Yes. Dr. Rolt thinks he will do all right now.



BROWN

You must have been very anxious when he was
first taken ill.



HESTER

We were terribly anxious. [Hester _takes off her
hat and cape and puts them down on the window
seat_.



BROWN

I suppose there’s no doubt it was some sort of
stroke?



HESTER

Dr. Rolt says no doubt.



BROWN

How did it happen?



HESTER

We don’t know. He had just gone out of the room
when we heard a fall. Mother ran out into the
hall and found him lying by the door quite
unconscious. She was dreadfully frightened. So
were we all.



BROWN

Had he been complaining of feeling unwell?



HESTER

Not specially. He complained of the heat a
little. And he had a headache. But father’s not
strong, you know. None of the De Mullins are,
Aunt Harriet says.



BROWN

Mrs. Clouston is with you now, isn’t she?



HESTER

Yes. For a month. She generally stays with us
for a month in the summer.



BROWN

I suppose she’s very fond of Brendon?



HESTER

All the De Mullins are fond of Brendon, Mr.
Brown.



BROWN

Naturally. You have been here so long.



HESTER

Since the time of King Stephen.



BROWN

Not in this house?



HESTER

(smiling)

Not in this house, of course. It’s not old
enough for that.



BROWN

Still, it must be very old. The oldest house in
the Village, isn’t it?



HESTER

Only about four hundred years. The date is 1603.
The mill is older, of course.



BROWN

You still own the mill, don’t you?



HESTER

Yes. Father would never part with it. He thinks
everything of the mill. We get our name from it,
you know. De Mullin. Du Moulin. “Of the Mill.”



BROWN

Were the original De Mullins millers then?



HESTER

(_rather shocked at such a suggestion_)

Oh no!



BROWN

I thought they couldn’t have been. .



HESTER

No De Mullin has ever been in trade of _any_
kind! But in the old days to own a mill was a
feudal privilege. Only lords of manors and the
great abbeys had them. The farmers had to bring
all their corn to them to be ground.



BROWN

I see.



HESTER

There were constant disputes about it all
through the Middle Ages.



BROWN

Why was that?



HESTER

The farmers would rather have ground their corn
for themselves, I suppose.



BROWN

Why? If the De Mullins were willing to do it for
them?



HESTER

They had to pay for having it ground, of course.



BROWN

(_venturing on a small joke_)

Then the De Mullins _were_ millers, after all,
in a sense.



HESTER

You mustn’t let father hear you say so!



BROWN

The mill is never used now, is it?



HESTER

No. When, people gave up growing corn round here
and all the land was turned into pasture it fell
into decay, and now it’s almost ruinous.



BROWN

What a pity!



HESTER

Yes. Father says England has never been the same
since the repeal of the Corn laws. (_Enter Mrs.
De Mullin and Mrs. Clouston by the door on
the left, followed by Dr. Rolt._) Here is
mother--and Aunt Harriet.

_Mrs. De Mullin, poor lady, is a crushed,
timid creature of fifty-eight or so, entirely
dominated by the De Mullin fetish and quite
unable to hold her own against either her
husband or her sister-in-law, a hardmouthed,
resolute woman of sixty. Even Hester she finds
almost too much for her. For the rest a gentle,
kindly lady, rather charming in her extreme
helplessness. Rolt is the average country
doctor, brisk, sensible, neither a fool nor a
genius._



ROLT

(as they enter the room)

He’s better. Distinctly better. A little weak
and depressed, of course. That’s only to be
expected. Good morning.

[_Shakes hands with Hester. Nods to Brown_.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Mr. De Mullin is always nervous about himself.



ROLT

Yes. Constitutional, no doubt. But he’ll pick
up in a few days. Keep him as quiet as you can.
That’s really all he needs now.



MRS. DE MULLIN

You don’t think he ought to stay in his room?

... Good morning, Mr. Brown. Are you waiting to
see me?

[_Brown shakes hands with both ladies._



BROWN

(_awkwardly_)

Not specially. I walked over from the church
with Miss De Mullin.



HESTER

Is father coming downstairs, mother?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Yes, Hester. He insisted on getting up. You know
he always hates staying in his room.



HESTER

Oh, Dr. Rolt, do you think he _should?_



ROLT

I don’t think it will do him any harm. He can
rest quietly in a chair or on the sofa.... Well,
I must be off. Good-bye, Mrs. De Mullin.

[_Shakes hands briskly with every one_.



BROWN

(_rising ponderously_)

I must be going too (_shakes hands with Mrs. De
Mullin_). You’ll tell Mr. De Mullin I inquired
after him? Good-bye, Mrs. Clouston (_shakes
hands_). And you’re coming to help with the
Harvest Decorations on Saturday, aren’t you,
Miss De Mullin?



HESTER

_(shaking hands)_

Of course.

[_Brown and Rolt go out._



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(seating herself and beginning to knit
resolutely)_

What singularly unattractive curates the Vicar
seems to get hold of, Jane!.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(meekly)_

Do you think so, Harriet?



MRS. CLOUSTON

Quite remarkably. This Mr. Brown, for instance.
He has the most enormous _feet!_ And his boots!
I’ve never seen such boots!



HESTER

_(flushing)_

We needn’t sneer if Mr. Brown doesn’t wear fine
clothes, Aunt Harriet.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Of course not Hester. Still, I think he goes
to the opposite extreme. And he really is quite
abnormally plain. Then there was that Mr. Snood,
who was curate when I was down last year.
The man with the very red hands. (_These acid
comments are too much for Hester, who flounces
out angrily. Mrs. Clouston looks up for a
moment, wondering what is the meaning of this
sudden disappearance. Then continues unmoved._)
I’m afraid the clergy aren’t what they were in
our young days, Jane.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I don’t think I’ve noticed any falling off.



MRS. CLOUSTON

It is there all the same. I’m sure Hugo would
agree with me. Of course, curates are paid next
to nothing. Still, I think the Vicar might be
more happy in his choice.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I believe the poor like him.



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(to whom this seems of small importance
compared with his shocking social disabilities)_

Very likely.... Do please keep still, Jane, and
don’t fidget with that book. What is the matter
with you?



MRS. DE MULLIN

I’m a little nervous this morning. Hugo’s
illness...



MRS. CLOUSTON

Hugo’s almost well now.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Still the anxiety...



MRS. CLOUSTON

Nonsense, Jane. Anxiety is not at all a thing to
give way to, especially when there’s no longer
anything to be anxious about. Hugo’s practically
well now. Dr. Rolt seems to have frightened us
all quite unnecessarily.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I suppose it’s difficult to tell.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Of course, it’s difficult. Otherwise no one
would send for a doctor. What are doctors for if
they can’t tell when a case is serious and when
it is not?



MRS. DE MULLIN

But if he didn’t know?



MRS. CLOUSTON

Then he _ought_ to have known. Next time Hugo
is ill you’d better send to Bridport. _(Mrs.
De Mullin drops book on table with a clatter)_
Really, Jane, what are you doing? Throwing books
about like that!



MRS. DE MULLIN

It slipped out of my hand.,,

[_Rises and goes up to window restlessly._



MRS. CLOUSTON

Is anything wrong?



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(hesitating)_

Well, the truth is I’ve done something, Harriet,
and now I’m not sure whether I ought to have
done it. Mrs. Clouston

Done what?



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(dolorously)_

I’m afraid you won’t approve.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Perhaps you’d better tell me what it is. Then we
shall know.



MRS. DE MULLIN

The fact is some one is coming here this
morning, Harriet--to see Hugo.



MRS. CLOUSTON

To see Hugo? Who is it?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet.



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(with horror)_

Janet?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Yes.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Janet! She wouldn’t _dare!_



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(dolorously)_

I sent for her, Harriet.



MRS. CLOUSTON

You _sent_ for her?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Yes. When Hugo was first taken ill and Dr. Rolt
seemed to think the attack was so serious....



MRS. CLOUSTON

Dr. Rolt was a fool.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Very likely, Harriet. But he said Hugo might
die. And he said if there was any one Hugo would
wish to see....



MRS. CLOUSTON

But would Hugo wish to see Janet?



MRS. DE MULLIN

I thought he might. After all Janet _is_ his
daughter. Mrs. Clouston

I thought he said he would never see her again?



MRS. DE MULLIN

He did _say_ that, of course. But that was eight
years ago. And, of course, he wasn’t ill then.



MRS. CLOUSTON

When did you send for her?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Three days ago.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Why didn’t she come _then_, if she was coming at
all?



MRS. DE MULLIN

She was away from home. That was so unfortunate.
If she had come when Hugo was ill in bed it
might have been all right. But now that he’s
almost well again....



MRS. CLOUSTON

When did you hear she was coming?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Only this morning. Here is what she says..

[_Produces telegram from pocket_.



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(reads)_

“Telegram delayed. Arrive mid-day. Seagrave.”
 Seagrave?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Yes. She calls herself Mrs. Seagrave now.



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(nods)_

On account of the child, I suppose.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I suppose so.



MRS. CLOUSTON

I never could understand how Janet came to go so
wrong. _(Mrs. De Mullin sighs.)_ None of the _De
Mullins_ have ever done such a thing before.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(plaintively)_

I’m sure she doesn’t get it from _my_ family.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Well, she must have got it from _somewhere_.
She’s not in the least like a De Mullin.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(lamentably_)

I believe it was all through bicycling.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Bicycling?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Yes. When girls usen’t to scour about the
country as they do now these things didn’t
happen.



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(severely)_

I never approved of Janet’s bicycling you
remember, Jane.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Nor did I, Harriet. But it was no use. Janet
only laughed. Janet never would do what she
was told about things even when she was quite a
child. She was so very obstinate. She was always
getting some idea or other into her head. And
when she did nothing would prevent her from
carrying it out. At one time she wanted to
_teach_.



MRS. CLOUSTON

I remember.



MRS. DE MULLIN

She said girls ought to go out and earn their
own living like boys.



MRS. CLOUSTON

What nonsense!



MRS. DE MULLIN

So Hugo said. But Janet wouldn’t listen. Finally
we had to let her go over and teach the Aldenham
girls French three times a week, just to keep
her amused.



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(thoughtfully)_

It was strange you never could find out who the
father was.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(sighs)_

Yes. She wouldn’t tell us.



MRS. CLOUSTON

You should have made her tell you. Hugo should
have insisted on it.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Hugo did insist. He was terribly angry with her.
He sent her to her room and said she was not to
come down till she told us. But it was no use.
Janet just stayed in her room till we had all
gone to bed and then took the train to London.



MRS. CLOUSTON

You should have locked her door.



MRS. DE MULLIN

We did. She got out of the window.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Got out of the window! The girl might have been
killed.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Yes. But Janet was always fond of climbing. And
she was never afraid of anything.



MRS. CLOUSTON

But there’s no late train to London.



MRS. DE MULLIN

She caught the mail at Weymouth, I suppose.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Do you mean to say she _walked_ all the way to
Weymouth in the middle of the night? Why, it’s
twelve miles.



MRS. DE MULLIN

She had her bicycle as I said.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Tck!... How did you know she went to London?



MRS. DE MULLIN

She wrote from there, for her things.



MRS. CLOUSTON

I wonder she wasn’t ashamed.



MRS. DE MULLIN

So Hugo said. However, he said I might send
them. But he made me send a letter with the
things to say that he would have nothing more to
do with her and that she was not to write again.
For a time she didn’t write. Nearly five months.
Then, when her baby was born, she wrote to tell
me. That was how I knew she had taken the name
of Seagrave. She mentioned it.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Did you show the letter to Hugo?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Yes.



MRS. CLOUSTON

What did he say?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Nothing. He just read it and gave it back to me
without a word.



MRS. CLOUSTON

That’s the last you’ve heard of her, I suppose?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Oh no, Harriet.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Do you mean to say she goes _on_ writing? And
you allow her? When Hugo said she was not to?



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(meekly)_

Yes. Not often, Harriet. Only occasionally.



MRS. CLOUSTON

She has no business to write at all.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Her letters are quite short. Sometimes I wish
they were longer. They really tell one nothing
about herself, though I often ask her.



MRS. CLOUSTON

You _ask_ her! Then _you_ write too!



MRS. DE MULLIN

I answer her letters, of course. Otherwise she
wouldn’t go on writing. ‘



MRS. CLOUSTON

Really, Jane, I’m surprised at you. So you’ve
actually been corresponding with Janet all
these years--and never told _me!_ I think you’ve
behaved very badly.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I didn’t like to, Harriet.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Didn’t like to!



MRS. DE MULLIN

And as you don’t think I _ought_ to hear from
her....



MRS. CLOUSTON.

I don’t think you ought to hear from her, of
course. But as you do hear naturally I should
like to have seen the letters.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I didn’t know that, Harriet. In fact, I thought
you would rather not. When a dreadful thing like
this happens in a family it seems best not to
write about it or to speak of it either, doesn’t
it? Hugo and I never speak of it.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Does Hugo know you hear from her?



MRS. DE MULLIN

I think not. I have never told him. Nor Hester.
I’m sure Hester would disapprove.



MRS. CLOUSTON

My dear Jane, what _can_ it matter whether
Hester approves or not? Hester knows nothing
about such things. At _her_ age!



MRS. DE MULLIN

Hester is twenty-eight.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Exactly. A girl like that.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(sighs)_

Girls have such very strong opinions nowadays.
Mrs. Clouston

What does Janet live on? Teaching?



MRS. DE MULLIN

I suppose so. She had her Aunt Miriam’s legacy,
of four hundred pounds of course.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Only four hundred pounds.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Yes.



MRS. CLOUSTON

I never approved of that legacy, Jane. Girls
oughtn’t to have money left them. It makes them
too independent.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Aunt Miriam was always so fond of Janet.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Then she should have left the money to Hugo.
Fathers are the proper people to leave money to.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Hugo did have the _management_ of the
money--till Janet was twenty-one.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Why only till she was twenty-one?



MRS. DE MULLIN

It was so in Aunt Miriam’s will. Of course, Hugo
would have gone on managing it for her. It was
very little trouble as it was all in Consols.
But Janet said she would rather look after it
for herself.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Ridiculous! As if girls could possibly manage
money!



MRS. DE MULLIN

So Hugo said. But Janet insisted. So she got her
way.



MRS. CLOUSTON

What did she do with it? Spend it?



MRS. DE MULLIN

No. Put it into a Railway, she said.



MRS. CLOUSTON

A Railway! How dangerous!



MRS. DE MULLIN

She said she would prefer it. She said Railways
sometimes went up. Consols never.



MRS. CLOUSTON

She lost it all, of course?



MRS. DE MULLIN

I don’t know, Harriet.



MRS. CLOUSTON

You don’t _know?_



MRS. DE MULLIN

No. I never liked to ask. Hugo was rather hurt
about the whole thing, so the subject was never
referred to.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Let me see. The child must be eight years old by
now.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Just eight. It will be nine years next March
since Janet went away.



MRS. CLOUSTON

What did she call him?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Johnny.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Johnny! None of the De Mullins have ever been
called _Johnny_.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Perhaps it was his father’s name.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Perhaps so _(pause)_.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Do you think I ought to tell Hugo about Janet’s
coming?



MRS. CLOUSTON

Certainly.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I thought perhaps....



MRS. CLOUSTON

Nonsense, Jane. Of course, he must be told. You
ought to have told him from the very beginning?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Do you mean when I sent the telegram? But Hugo
was unconscious.



MRS. CLOUSTON

As soon as he recovered consciousness then.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I did mean to. But he seemed so weak, and Dr.
Rolt said any excitement....



MRS. CLOUSTON

Dr. Rolt!



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(goaded)_

Well, I couldn’t tell that Dr. Rolt knew so
little about Hugo’s illness, could I? And I was
afraid of the shock.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Still, he should have been told at once. It was
the only chance.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Yes. I see that now. But I was afraid of the
shock, as I said. So I put it off. And then,
when I didn’t hear from Janet, I thought I would
wait.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Why?



MRS. DE MULLIN

You see I didn’t know whether she was coming.
And if she didn’t come, of course there was no
necessity for telling Hugo anything about it.
I’m afraid he’ll be very angry.



MRS. CLOUSTON

At any rate, you must tell him now. The sooner
the better.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(meekly)_

Very well, Harriet. If you think so.



MRS. CLOUSTON

You had better go up to him at once.

[_Mrs. De Mullin goes to the door on the left,
opens it, then draws back hastily_.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Here _is_ Hugo. He’s just coming across the
hall. With Hester. How unlucky.



MRS. CLOUSTON I don’t see that it matters.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I’d rather not have told him before Hester.

[_Mrs. Clouston shrugs her shoulders. A moment
later Hugo enters. He leans on a stick and
Hester’s arm. He looks weak and pale and
altogether extremely sorry for himself,
obviously a nervous and a very tiresome
patient._



HESTER

Carefully, father. That’s right. Will you lie on
the sofa?



DE MULLIN

_(fretfully)_

No. Put me in the armchair. I’m tired of lying
down.



HESTER

Very well. Let me help you. There. Wait a
moment. I’ll fetch you some pillows.

_[Props him up on pillows in an armchair._



DE MULLIN

Thank you.

_[Lies back exhausted and closes his eyes._



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(going to him)_

How are you feeling now, Hugo?



DE MULLIN

Very weak.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I wonder if you ought to have come down?



DE MULLIN

It won’t make any difference. Nothing will make
any difference any more, Jane. I shan’t last
much longer. I’m worn out.



HESTER

Father!



DE MULLIN

Yes, Hester. Worn out _(with a sort of
melancholy pride)_. None of the De Mullins have
been strong. I’m the last of them. The last of
the De Mullins.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Come, Hugo, you mustn’t talk in that morbid way.



DE MULLIN

I’m not morbid, Harriet. But I feel tired,
tired.



MRS. DE MULLIN

You’ll be better in a day or two.



DE MULLIN

No, Jane. I shall never be better. Never in
_this_ world _(pause)._



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(nervously)_

Hugo... there’s something... something I have to
tell you....



DE MULLIN

What is it, Jane? _(fretfully)_. What have you
been keeping from me?



MRS. DE MULLIN

I ought to have told you before. Only I didn’t
like...



DE MULLIN

Is it something about my illness?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Oh no, Hugo.



DE MULLIN

_(relieved)_

I thought Dr. Rolt might have said something.



MRS. DE MULLIN

It’s nothing of that kind.



DE MULLIN

_(peevishly)_

Well, well, what is it?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Hugo, some one is coming here to-day, to see
_you_.



DE MULLIN

To see _me?_ Who?



MRS. DE MULLIN

You won’t be angry, Hugo?



DE MULLIN

_(testily)_

How can I possibly say that, Jane, when I don’t
know who it is?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Hugo, it’s... (Bell rings loudly.) Harriet,
there’s the bell! I wonder if it’s she? Do you
think it is?

[_All look towards the door on the right,
expectantly._



DE MULLIN

_(querulously)_

Well, Jane? _Am_ I to hear who this visitor is
or am I not?



ELLEN

_(showing in a lady leading a little boy
by the hand)_



MRS. SEAGRAVE

[_Enter Janet and Johnny!. Janet is a very
handsome woman of six-and-thirty. She is
admirably dressed, but her clothes are quiet and
in excellent taste, dark in colour and plain
in cut but expensive. Her hat is particularly
tasteful, but also quiet. Her clothes are in
marked contrast to those of her mother and
sister which are of the homeliest description
and were probably made in the village. Johnny
is a well-grown youngster of eight in a sailor
suit._



HESTER

_(shocked)_

Mother!



DE MULLIN

Janet, my dear! _(cry of welcome)_.



JANET

Father! _(Drops Johnny’s hand, comes rapidly
to him, falls on one knee and kisses him
impulsively, patting his left hand with her
right.)_ How are you? Better? _(holding out her
left hand to her mother but still kneeling)_.
How do you do, mother dear? _(Mrs. De Mullin
takes it. Puts her other hand on Janet’s
shoulder.)_ I should have come before, father,
directly you sent for me. But your telegram was
delayed. I was away from home.



DE MULLIN

_(nods)_

I see.



JANET

Have you been very ill, father? And did you
frighten them all dreadfully? How naughty of
you!



DE MULLIN

Silly Janet! Let me look at you, my dear.
_(Looks at her face as she holds it up.)_ You’re
not much changed, Janet.



JANET

Nor are you, father.



DE MULLIN

A little greyer, perhaps.



JANET

No! Not a hair!



DE MULLIN

Well, my dear, Pm glad you’ve come. We parted
in anger, but that’s all over now. Forgotten and
forgiven. Eh?



JANET

Yes. Forgotten and forgiven _(rises)_. How
are _you_, Aunt Harriet? I didn’t see you.
_(Eagerly)_ Hester!

_[Goes to her impulsively, holding out her hand.
Hester takes it coldly. Janet tries to draw her
towards her. Hester resists. She drops her hand
and Hester turns away.]_



DE MULLIN

Who is that? _(pointing to Johnny)_.



JANET

(turning to him)

That is Johnny. My son.



DE MULLIN

My grandson?



JANET

Yes. I _had_ to bring him, father. We were away
from home and there was no one to leave him
with.



DE MULLIN

I’m glad you brought him. Come here, Johnny.
Don’t be afraid.



JOHNNY

_(in his confident treble)_

I’m not afraid. Why should I be afraid?

_[Goes to him_.



DE MULLIN

_(taking his hand)_

Say “How do you do, grandfather.”



JOHNNY

How do you do, grandfather?



DE MULLIN

Will you give me a kiss, Johnny?



JOHNNY

If you like, grandfather.

_[Kisses him._



DE MULLIN

That’s a good boy.



JANET

Kiss your grandmother too, Johnny.

_[Mrs. De Mullin snatches him up and kisses him
passionately. Then holds him a little way off
and looks at him admiringly._



MRS. DE MULLIN

What a fine little fellow, Janet!



JANET

_(proudly)_

Isn’t he, mother? And so strong and healthy!
He’s hardly had a day’s illness since he was
born.



JOHNNY

_(who has been staring at the pictures
on the walls, holding his grandmother by one
hand)_.

Who are all these old men, grandfather?



DE MULLIN

Your ancestors, my boy.



JOHNNY

What’s ancestors?



DE MULLIN

Your forefathers. Your mother’s forefathers,



JOHNNY

Is that old man in the wig an ancestor?



DE MULLIN

Yes. That is Anthony De Mullin, your
great-great-grandfather.



JOHNNY

What was _he?_



DE MULLIN

(puzzled)

_What_ was he? I don’t know that he was anything
in particular. He was just a gentleman.



JOHNNY

_(disappointed)_

Is that all?



DE MULLIN

Don’t make any mistake, my boy. It’s a great
thing to be descended from gentle-people, a
thing to be proud of and to be thankful for.



JOHNNY

Mother says the great thing is for every one to
be of some use in the world. Are gentle-people
of more use in the world than other people,
grandfather?



DE MULLIN

Certainly.



JOHNNY

And were all these old men gentle-people?



DE MULLIN

All of them. And you must grow up like them.



JOHNNY

They’re very _ugly_, grandfather _(pause)_. What
did they do?



DE MULLIN

They lived down here at Brendon.



JOHNNY

Nothing else?



DE MULLIN

They looked after their land.



JOHNNY

Had they much land?



DE MULLIN

A great deal. At one time the De Mullins owned
all the land about here.



JOHNNY

How much do they own now?



DE MULLIN

_(sighs)_

Not very much, I’m afraid.



JOHNNY

Then they can’t have looked after it very well,
can they, grandfather?



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(feeling the strain of this
conversation)_

Now, Hugo, do you think you ought to talk any
more? Why not go upstairs for a little and lie
down?



DE MULLIN

Perhaps I will, Jane. I _am_ a little tired.



HESTER

Shall I go with father?



MRS. DE MULLIN

No. I will. Come, Hugo _(helps him up)_.



DE MULLIN

Will you come, with me, Johnny?



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(hastily)_

No, Hugo. He will only disturb you. Stay down
here, Johnny, with your mother. Now then.
Carefully.

_[Leads De Mullin off by the door on the left.
There is a pause, during which the remaining
occupants of the room obviously have nothing in
particular to say to each other. At last Mrs.
Clouston speaks._



MRS. CLOUSTON

Well, Janet, how have you been all these years?



JANET

_(nonchalantly)_

All right, Aunt Harriet. And you?



MRS. CLOUSTON

Pretty well, thanks.



JANET

Are you still living down at Bath?



MRS. CLOUSTON

Yes. You live in London, Jane tells me.



JANET

Yes.



MRS. CLOUSTON

What do you do there? Teach?



JANET

Oh no. Why should I be teaching?



MRS. CLOUSTON

Jane said you wanted to teach at one time.



JANET

That was years ago. Before I left Brendon. soon
gave up that idea. No. I keep a shop.



MRS. CLOUSTON

A shop!



JANET

Yes. A hat-shop



MRS. CLOUSTON

Good heavens! A De Mullin in a hat-shop!



JANET

_(a little maliciously)_

Not a De Mullin, Aunt Harriet. A Seagrave.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Did Mr. Seagrave keep a hat-shop?



JANET

Mr. Seagrave?... oh, I see. No. It’s not a man’s
hat shop. It’s a lady’s _(takes off hat)_. This
is one of ours. What do you think of it, Hester?



HESTER

_(frostily)_

It looks very expensive.



JANET

_(looking at it critically)_

Yes, I own I’m rather pleased with it.



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(acidly)_

You seem to be able to dress very well
altogether, in spite of the shop.



JANET

_(correcting her)_

Because of it, Aunt Harriet. That’s the
advantage of being what is called “in trade.”
 If I were a school teacher or a governess or
something genteel of that kind I could only
afford to dress like a pauper. But as I keep
a shop I can dress like a lady. Clothes are a
question of money, after all, aren’t they?



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(contemptuously)_

If one is in a shop it doesn’t matter how one
dresses.



JANET

On the contrary if one is in a shop it matters a
great deal. A girl in a shop _must_ dress well.
The business demands it. If you ever start a
hat-shop, Aunt Harriet, you’ll have to dress
very differently. Otherwise nobody will buy your
hats.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Indeed? Fortunately I’ve no intention of
starting a shop of any kind.



JANET

_(blandly)_

No! Well, I expect you’re wise. I doubt if you’d
make a success of it.

[_Loud ring heard off._



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(rather flustered--gasps)_



HESTER

I hope that’s not a visitor. _(Janet
stares Then laughs good-humouredly. Aunt
Harriet’s nervous desire to keep her out of the
way of visitors strikes her as amusing.)_ What
are you laughing at, Janet?



JANET

_(shrugs)_

Nothing, Aunt Harriet.



ELLEN

_(showing in)_

Miss Deanes. Mr. Brown.

[_Miss Deanes is a bulky, red-faced,
shortsighted woman of forty-two, very fussy and
absurd in manner, who talks very fast. Brown
carries a book._



MISS DEANES

How do you do, Mrs. Clouston. _Such_ a piece of
news! I felt I _must_ tell you. I brought Mr.
Brown with me. He was just leaving a book for
you, Hester, so I made him come in.

[_Shakes hands with Hester._



BROWN

Here it is, Miss De Mullin. It’s the one you
wanted to borrow. _Blore on the Creeds_.



HESTER

Thank you.



MISS DEANES

_(seeing Janet for first time)_

Janet! Is that you?



JANET

Yes, Miss Deanes. How are you?

[_Shakes hands._



MISS DEANES

Good gracious, child, when did you come? Why,
you’ve not been down to Brendon for years.



JANET

It is a long time, isn’t it?



MISS DEANES

And who is this young gentleman?

[_Noticing Johnny who is holding Janet’s hand
and staring at Miss Deanes._



JANET

_(calmly)_

That is my son. Shake hands with Miss Deanes,
Johnny.



MISS DEANES

_(astonished)_

Your son! There now! And I never knew you were
even married!



JANET

_(quite at her ease)_

Didn’t you!



MISS DEANES

No.



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(nervously)_

I forgot. I haven’t introduced you. Mr.
Brown--Mrs. Seagrave.



BROWN

_(bows)_

How do you do.



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(turning to Miss Deanes again)_

And now what is your piece of news, Miss Deanes?



MISS DEANES

_(volubly)_

Oh yes. I _must_ tell you. You’d never guess.
Somebody _else_ is engaged to be married, _(to
Janet)_ Who do you think?



JANET

I’ve no idea.



MISS DEANES

Bertha Aldenham--to Mr. Bulstead.



JANET

_(starts)_

Mr. Bulstead?



MISS DEANES

Yes. But I forgot. _You_ wouldn’t know _them_.
They didn’t come here till long after you went
away. They bought Brendon Park from the Malcolms
three years ago. You remember the Malcolms,
Janet? Janet _(whose attention has wandered)_

Eh? Oh yes, of course.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Which Mr. Bulstead is it? The eldest?



MISS DEANES

Yes. Montague.



JANET

_(under her breath)_

Monty Bulstead! Engaged!



MRS. CLOUSTON

Are the Aldenhams pleased?



MISS DEANES

Very, I expect. The Bulsteads are so rich, you
see.



JANET

Does he live down here; this Mr. Montagu
Bulstead, I mean?



MISS DEANES

Oh no. He’s here on leave. He’s in the army. He
only got back three months ago _(with a little
giggle)_. He and Bertha haven’t taken long to
settle things, have they?



JANET

No, they haven’t taken long.



MISS DEANES

But I dare say he _will_ live here when he’s
married. As the Bulsteads are so rich.- The
father makes frilling and lace and so on. All
those things people used to make so much better
by hand. And Bertha may not care about army
life. I know I shouldn’t. _(Janet smiles
discreetly.)_ It’s not always very _nice_, is
it?



BROWN

_(to Johnny who has been staring at
him roundeyed across the room, with heavy
geniality)_.

Well, young man. Who are you staring at, eh? Do
_you_ want to talk to me?



JOHNNY

_(quite simply, in his high piping
treble)_

No, thank you.



JANET

Sh! Johnny! You don’t mean that. Go to Mr. Brown
when he speaks to you.



JOHNNY

Very well, Mummie.

_[Does so slowly_.



BROWN

_(taking his hands)_

Now then what shall we talk about, you and I?



JOHNNY

I don’t know.



BROWN

Don’t you? Suppose we see if you can say your
catechism then? Would you like _that_?



JOHNNY

What’s catechism?



BROWN

Come, Johnny, I’m sure your mother has taught
you your catechism.. Can you repeat your “Duty
towards your Neighbour”? _(Johnny shakes his
head emphatically)_. Try “My duty towards my
neighbour....



JOHNNY

Mother says it’s every one’s duty to be healthy
and to be happy! Is that what you mean?



BROWN

_(scandalized)_

No! No!



JOHNNY

Well, that’s what mother taught me.



JANET

_(coming to the rescue)_

I’m afraid he doesn’t know his catechism yet,
Mr. Brown. You see he’s only eight. _(Brown bows
stiffly.)_ Run away, Johnny, and play in the
garden for a little.

_[Leads him to the door in the bay._



JOHNNY

All right, Mummie.

_[Johnny runs out into the garden. A certain
relief is perceptible on his departure. It is
felt that his interview with Mr. Brown has not
been a success._...



MISS DEANES

_(who feels that a change of subject
will be only tactful)_

There now, Hester! I do believe you’ve never
asked after Dicky! He’ll be so offended!



HESTER

_(smiling)_

Has Dicky been ill again? I thought you said he
was better yesterday.



MISS DEANES

He was. But he had a relapse, poor _darling_. I
had to sit up all last night with him!



JANET

What has been the matter with him?



MISS DEANES

Some sort of chill, Dr. Rolt said. I was
_dreadfully_ anxious.



JANET

What a pity! ‘Colds are such troublesome things
for children.



MISS DEANES

(puzzled)

Children?



JANET

Yes. You were speaking of a child, weren’t you?
Miss Deanes

Oh no. Dicky is my _cockatoo_. He’s the
_sweetest_ bird. Talks quite like a human being.
And never a coarse expression. That’s so unusual
with cockatoos.



JANET

Indeed?



MISS DEANES

Yes. The voyage, you see. They come all the way
from South America and generally they pick up
the most dreadful language, poor lambs--from the
sailors.

But Dicky didn’t. He has such a pure mind
_(rising)_. And now I really must be going. I
have all kinds of people I want to tell about
Mr. Bulstead’s engagement.

_[Shaking hands with Mrs. Clouston and Janet._



BROWN

I must be off too. Wait one moment, Miss Deanes.
Good-bye, Mrs. Clouston.

_[Shakes hands with Mrs. Clouston and bows
stiffly to Janet. He has not yet forgiven Johnny
for not knowing his catechism._

_(To Hester.)_

Good-bye, Miss De Mullin. Shall I see you at
Evensong?

_[Shakes hands with Hester._

I expect so.



HESTER

Poof!

_[Brown and Miss Deanes go out._



JANET

What a fool Miss Deanes is!



MRS CLOUSTON

_(indifferently)_

She always was, wasn’t she?



JANET

I suppose so. Going on in that way about her
ridiculous cockatoo! And that _hideous_ little
curate!



HESTER

I don’t see why you should sneer at all my
friends.



JANET

Are they your friends, Hester? Then I won’t
sneer at them. But you can’t call Mr. Brown
_handsome_, can you?



HESTER

Mr. Brown is a very good man and works very
hard among the poor. That’s better than being
handsome.



JANET

Yes. But less agreeable, isn’t it? However,
if _you_ like him there’s an end of it. But he
needn’t have begun asking Johnny his catechism
the very first time he met him. I don’t call it
good manners,



HESTER

How was he to know the poor child was being
brought up to be a little heathen?

_[Takes up her hat and cape and begins putting
them on._



JANET

_(shrugs)_

How, indeed!



MRS. CLOUSTON

Are you going out, Hester? Lunch will be ready
in half an hour. .



HESTER

Only to take Mrs. Wason her soup, Aunt Harriet.



JANET

_(looking curiously at Hester)_

Do you want to marry Mr. Brown, Hester?



MRS. CLOUSTON

My dear Janet!



JANET

Well, Aunt Harriet, there’s nothing to be
ashamed of if she does. Do you, Hester?



HESTER

Why do you ask such a question?



JANET

Never mind. Only answer it _(pause)_. You do
like him, don’t you?



HESTER

I’ve a great respect for Mr. Brown.



JANET

Don’t blush, my dear. I dare say that’s much the
same thing.



HESTER

I won’t talk to you about it. You only sneer.
Janet

I wasn’t sneering. Come, Hester, don’t be cross.
Why shouldn’t we be friends? I might help you.



HESTER

How could _you_ help me?



JANET

_(looking quizzically at poor Hester’s
headgear)_

I might make you a hat, my dear.



HESTER

Mr. Brown doesn’t notice those things.



JANET

All men notice those things, Hester.



HESTER

_(with a sneer)_

I suppose that’s why _you_ wear such fine
clothes.



JANET

_(quite good-humoured)_

That’s it. Fine feathers make fine birds.



HESTER

Well, _I_ call it shameless.



JANET

My dear Hester, you’re always being ashamed of
things. You always were, I remember. What is
there to be ashamed of in that? What on earth
were women given pretty faces and pretty figures
for if not to make men admire them and want to
marry them?



HESTER

_(acidly)_

Well, _your_ plan hasn’t been very successful so
far, anyhow!



JANET

_(quietly)_

Nor has yours, Hester.

[_Hester makes exclamation of impatience and
seems about to reply angrily. Then thinks better
of it and goes out without a word. Janet follows
her retreat with her eyes and smiles half
cynically, half compassionately. The Curtain
falls._





ACT II


_Scene:_ On the edge of Brendon Forest.

_Time:_ three days later. A road runs along the
hack of the stage front which it is separated by
a fence and high hedge. In this hut somewhat to
the right is a stile and also a gate. Round the
trunk of a large tree to the left is a rough
wooden seat. The stage is empty when the curtain
rises. Fhen enter Mrs. De Mullin, Janet and
Johnny. They approach stile from the left and
come through gate. There isan exit on the right
of the stage through the Forest.



JANET

I don’t think I’ll come any farther, mother.



MRS. DE MULLIN

You won’t come up to the house?



JANET

No, thanks _(rather grimly)_. I don’t want to
see Mrs. Bulstead. And I’m sure Mrs. Bulstead
doesn’t want to see me.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I wish Hester could have come.



JANET

Why couldn’t she?



MRS. DE MULLIN

She’s at the church putting up the decorations.
It’s the Harvest Thanksgiving to-morrow.



JANET

_(laughing)_

Mr. Brown!



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet, I told you you weren’t to laugh at Hester
about Mr. Brown. It’s not kind.



JANET

_(lightly)_

It’s all right mother. Hester’s not here.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Still, I don’t like it, dear. It’s not quite...



JANET

_(soothing her)_

Not quite _nice_. I know, mother. Not the way
really refined and ladylike young women talk.
But I’m only quite a common person who sells
hats. You can’t expect all these refinements
from _me!_

[_Mrs. De Mullin sighs._



MRS. DE MULLIN

Are you going to turn back?



JANET

Not at once. I’ll wait for you here a little
with Johnny in case they’re out. Why, they’ve
put a seat here. [_She sits on the side farthest
from the road._



MRS. DE MULLIN

Usen’t there to be one?



JANET

No. Nor a gate in my time. Only a stile.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Very likely, dear. I don’t remember. I don’t
often come this way.



JANET

_(nods)_

I often used to come along it in the old days.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I dare say. Well, I must be getting on to my
call or I shall be late. You’re sure you won’t
come?



JANET

Quite, mother. Good-bye.

[_Mrs. De Mullin goes of through the forest._



JOHNNY

Where’s grandmother going, Mummie?



JANET

Up to the big house.



JOHNNY

What big house?



JANET

Brendon Park.



JOHNNY

Mayn’t I go up to the big house too?



JANET

No, dear. You’re to stay with mother.



JOHNNY

Who lives at the big house?



JANET

Nobody you know, dear.



JOHNNY

That’s why I asked, Mummie.



JANET

Well, don’t ask any more, sonny. Mother’s rather
tired. Run away and play, there’s a good boy.

_[Kisses him._



JOHNNY

Very well, Mummie.

_[Johnny disappears into the wood. Janet falls
into a brown study. Presently a footstep is
heard coming along the roady but she seems to
notice nothing. Then a young man climbs over the
stile. He starts as he sees her and draws back,
then advances eagerly, holding out his hand._



MONTY

Janet, is that _you!_



JANET

_(smiling)_

Yes, Monty.



MONTY

_(astonished)_



JANET! Here!



JANET

Yes, Monty.



MONTY

_(nodding over his shoulder)_

_Our_ stile, Janet!



JANET

Our stile.



MONTY

_(nods)_

The stile where you and I first met.



JANET

_(relapsing for a moment into something
like sentiment)_

Yes. I thought I must see it again--for the sake
of old times.



MONTY

How long ago it all seems!



JANET

_(matter of fact)_

It is a longish time, you know.



MONTY

_(thoughtfully)_

I believe that was the happiest month of my
life, Janet.



JANET

Was it, Monty?



MONTY

Yes _(pause)_. I say, when did you come down?
You don’t _live_ at home any longer, do you?



JANET

No. I only came down three days ago.



MONTY

By Jove it _is_ good to see you again. Why, it’s
eight years since we used to be together, you
and I.



JANET

Nearly nine.



MONTY

Yes... You’re not coming to live down here
again, are you?



JANET

No; why?



MONTY

I thought perhaps...



JANET

_(cynically)_

Would you dislike it very much if I did, Monty?



MONTY

Of course not.



JANET

Confess. You _did_ feel it would be rather
awkward?



MONTY

Well, of course...



JANET

However you can set your mind at rest. I’m not.
[_His relief at this intelligence enables him to
realize the pleasure he is getting from seeing
her again._)



MONTY

I say, Janet, how well you’re looking! I believe
you’re handsomer than ever.



JANET

(smiling)

Am I?



MONTY

You know you are.

[_Pause. He looks at her admiringly. She turns
away with a little smile._



JANET

_(feeling that they are getting on to
dangerous ground)_

Well, Monty. Where have you been these eight
years?



MONTY

Abroad with my regiment. We’ve been ordered
all over the place. I’ve been home on leave, of
course. But not for the last three years. Not
since father bought the Park. I’ve never been at
Brendon since ... _(pause)_.



JANET

Since we were here? Don’t blush, Monty. _(He
nods shamefacedly.)_ How did he come to buy the
place?



MONTY

It was just a chance. He saw it advertised, came
and looked at it and bought it. He’s no idea
I was ever at Brendon before _(rather bitter
laugh)_. None of them have. I have to pretend
not to know my way about.



JANET

Why?



MONTY

It seems safer. _(Janet nods.)_ Sometimes I
almost forget to keep it up. I’m such a duffer
about things. But I’ve managed hitherto. And
now, of course, it’s all right as I’ve been
here three months. I may be supposed to know the
beastly place by this time.



JANET

Beastly? You’re not very polite.

[_Monty laughs shamefacedly_.



MONTY

You got my note, didn’t you?



JANET

What note?... Oh, eight years ago, you mean?
Yes.



MONTY

I left it with the woman at the lodgings. As you
were coming over that afternoon, I thought it
safer than sending a message. And of course I
daren’t telegraph. _(Janet nods.)_ I was awfully
sick at having to go away like that. All in a
moment. Without even saying good-bye. But I had
to.



JANET

Of course. Was your mother badly hurt?



MONTY

No. Only stunned. That was such rot. If people
get chucked out of a carriage they must expect
to get stunned. But of course they couldn’t
know. The telegram just said “Mother hurt.
Carriage accident. Come at once.” It got to me
at the lodgings a couple of hours before you
were coming. I had just time to chuck my things
into a bag and catch the train. I wanted to come
back after the mater was all right again. But I
couldn’t very well, could I?



JANET

Why not?



MONTY

Well, the regiment was to sail in less than
three weeks and the mater would have thought it
rather rough if I’d gone away again. I’d been
away six weeks as it was.



JANET

Oh yes. Of course.



MONTY

_(with half a sigh)_

To think if I hadn’t happened to be riding along
that road and seen you at the stile and asked
my way, you and I might never have met. What a
chance life is!



JANET

_(nods)_

Just a chance _(pause)_.



MONTY

Why did you go away, Janet? You weren’t going
the last time I saw you.



JANET

Wasn’t I?



MONTY

No. At least you said nothing about it.



JANET

I didn’t know I was going then. Not for certain.



MONTY

Why _did_ you go?



JANET

_(quietly)_ I had to, Monty.



MONTY

_(puzzled)_

You had to? _(Janet nods.)_But why?

Mother found out.



MONTY

About us?



JANET

Yes. And she told father.



MONTY

_(genuinely distressed)_ Oh, Janet! I’m so
sorry.



JANET

_(shrugs)_

It couldn’t be helped,



MONTY

Does he know who it was?



JANET

Who _you_ were? No.



MONTY

You didn’t tell him?



JANET



MONTY! As if I should.



MONTY

I don’t know. Girls generally do.



JANET

_I_ didn’t.



MONTY

No. I suppose you wouldn’t. But you’re different
from most girls. Do you know there was always
something rather splendid about you, Janet?



JANET

(curtseys)

Thank you.



MONTY

I wonder he didn’t _make_ you tell.



JANET

He did try of course. That was why I ran away.



MONTY

I see. Where did you go to?



JANET

London.



MONTY

To London? All alone? (Janet nods) Why did you
do that? And why didn’t you let me know?



JANET

_(shrugs)_

You were out of England by that time.



MONTY

But why London?



JANET

I had to go somewhere. And it seemed better
to go where I shouldn’t be known. Besides it’s
easier to be lost sight of in a crowd.



MONTY

But what did you do when you got there?



JANET

_(calmly)_

I got a place in a shop, Monty.



MONTY

A shop? You!



JANET

Yes, a hat-shop, in Regent Street. My dear
Monty, don’t gape like that. Hat-shops are
perfectly respectable places. Almost too
respectable to judge by the fuss two of them
made about employing _me_.



MONTY

What do you mean?



JANET

Well, when I applied to them for work they
naturally asked if I had ever worked in a
hat-shop before. And when I said “No” they
naturally asked why I wanted to begin. In the
innocence of my heart I told them. Whereupon
they at once refused to employ me--not in the
politest terms.



MONTY

Poor Janet. What beastly luck! Still...

[_Hesitates._



JANET

Yes, Monty?



MONTY

I mean naturally they couldn’t be expected...

_(flustered)_

At least I don’t mean that exactly.

Only... [_Stops._



JANET

My dear Monty, I quite understand what you mean.
You needn’t trouble to be explicit. Naturally
they couldn’t be expected to employ an abandoned
person like me to trim hats. That was exactly
their view.



MONTY

But I thought you said you _did_ get a place in
a shop? Janet

Yes. But not at either of _those_ shops. They
were _far_ too virtuous.



MONTY

How did you do it?



JANET

Told lies, Monty. I believe that’s how most
women get employment.



MONTY

Told lies?



JANET

Yes. I invented a husband, recently deceased,
bought several yards of crêpe and a wedding
ring. This is the ring.

[_Takes off glove._



MONTY

Oh, Janet, how beastly for you!

[_Janet shrugs_.



JANET

_(laughing)_

Everything seems to be “Beastly” to you, Monty.
Brendon and telling lies and lots of other
things. Luckily I’m less superfine.



MONTY

Didn’t they find out?



JANET

No. That was why I decided to be a widow. It
made inquiries more difficult.



MONTY

I should have thought it made them easier.



JANET

On the contrary. You can’t cross-question a
widow about a recent bereavement. If you do she
cries. I always used to look tearful directly my
husband’s name was even mentioned. So they gave
up mentioning it. Women are so boring when they
will cry.



MONTY

They might have inquired from other people.



JANET

Why should they? Besides there was no one to
inquire from. I called him Seagrave--and drowned
him at sea. You can’t ask questions of the
sharks.



MONTY

Oh, Janet, how can you joke about it?



JANET

I couldn’t--then. I wanted work-too badly. But I
can now--with your kind permission, I mean.



MONTY

And you’ve been at the shop ever since?



JANET

Not _that_ shop. I was only there about six
months --till baby was born, in fact...



MONTY

_(horrified)_

Janet, there was a baby!



JANET

Of course there was a baby.



MONTY

Oh, Janet! And you never wrote! Why didn’t you
write?



JANET

I did think of it. But on the whole I thought I
wouldn’t. It would have been no good.



MONTY

No good?



JANET

You were in India.



MONTY

I was in England.



JANET

Not then.



MONTY

You ought to have written at once--directly your
mother found out.



JANET

One week after you sailed, Monty _(defiantly)_.
Besides why should I write?



MONTY

Why? I could have married you, of course.



JANET

If I’d asked you, you mean? Thank you, my dear
Monty.



MONTY

No, I don’t. Of course I should have married
you. I _must_ have married you.



JANET

_(looking at him thoughtfully)_

I wonder if you would.



MONTY

Certainly I should. I should have been bound in
honour.



JANET

I see. Then I’m glad I never wrote.



MONTY

You’re _glad?_ Now?



JANET

Yes. I’ve done some foolish things in my life,
Monty, but none quite so foolish as that. To
marry a schoolboy, not because he loves you or
wants to marry you but because he thinks he’s
“bound in honour.” No, thank you.



MONTY

I don’t mean that. You know I don’t, Janet. I
loved you, of course. That goes without saying.
I’d have married you like a shot before, only
the Governor would have made such a fuss. The
Governor was so awfully straitlaced about this
sort of thing. When I was sent away from Eton he
made the most ghastly fuss.



JANET

Were you sent away from Eton for “this sort of
thing”?



MONTY

Yes--at least I don’t mean that either. But it
was about a girl there. He was frightfully wild.
He threatened to cut me off if I ever did such
a thing again. Such rot! As if no one had ever
been sent away from school before!



JANET

_(reflectively)_

I didn’t know you’d been sent away from Eton.



MONTY

Didn’t you? I suppose I didn’t like to tell
you-for fear of what you’d think _(bitterly)_. I
seem to have been afraid of everything in those
days. .



JANET

Not _everything_, Monty.



MONTY

Oh, you know what I mean. I was awfully afraid
of the Governor, I remember. I suppose all boys
are if their parents rag them too much. But I
would have married you, Janet, if I’d known. I
would honestly.



JANET

_(blandly)_

What is the pay of a British subaltern, Monty?



MONTY

The Governor would have had to stump up, of
course.



JANET

Poor Mr. Bulstead! He’d have _liked_ that,
I suppose? And what about your poor unhappy
colonel? And all the other little subalterns?



MONTY

_(obstinately)_

Still, you ought to have written.



JANET

_(quietly)_

_You_ never wrote.



MONTY

I couldn’t. You know that. You never would let
me. That was why I couldn’t send that note to
you to tell you I was going away. You said my
letters would be noticed.



JANET

Yes, I forgot that. That’s the result of having
a father who is what is called old-fashioned.



MONTY

What do you mean?



JANET

All letters to the Manor House are delivered
locked in a bag. They always have been since
the Flood, I believe, or at least since the
invention of the postal service. And, of course,
father won’t have it altered, So every morning
there’s the ritual of unlocking this absurd bag.
No one is allowed to do that but father--unless
he is ill. Then mother has the privilege. And
of course he. scrutinizes the outside of every
letter and directly it’s opened asks who it’s
from and what’s inside it. Your letters would
have been noticed at once.



MONTY

How beastly!



JANET

The penalty of having nothing to do, Monty.



MONTY

I know. What a mess the whole thing is!



JANET

Just so. No. There was no way out of it except
the hat-shop.



MONTY

_(remorsefully)_

It’s awfully rough on you, Janet.



JANET

Never mind. I dare say I wasn’t cut out for
the wife of a subaltern, Monty; whereas I make
excellent hats.



MONTY

_(savagely)_

You’re still making the d------d things?



JANET

Yes. Only at another shop. The Regent Street
place had no room for me when I was well enough
to go back to work. But the woman who kept it
gave me a recommendation to a friend who was
starting in Hanover Street. A most superior
quarter for a hatshop, Monty. In fact _the_
superior quarter. Claude et Cie was the name.

(Monty _(rather shocked)_

A _French_ shop?



JANET

No more French than you are, Monty. It was kept
by a Miss Hicks, one of the most thoroughly
British people you can possibly imagine. But we
called ourselves Claude et Cie in order to be
able to charge people more for their hats. You
can always charge fashionable women more for
their clothes if you pretend to be French. It’s
one of the imbecilities of commerce. So poor
dear Miss Hicks became Madame Claude and none of
our hats cost less than seven guineas.



MONTY

Do people buy hats at such a price?



JANET

Oh yes. Everybody in Society bought them. Claude
et Cie was quite the rage that Season. Nobody
who was anybody went anywhere else.



MONTY

She must have made a great deal of money.



JANET

On the contrary. She made nothing at all and
narrowly escaped bankruptcy.



MONTY

But I don’t understand. If her hats were so dear
and everybody bought them?



JANET

Everybody _bought_ them but nobody _paid_ for
them. In the highest social circles I believe
people never do pay for anything--certainly not
for their clothes. At least, nobody paid Miss
Hicks, and at the end of six months she was owed
£1,200 and hadn’t a penny to pay her rent.



MONTY

Why didn’t she _make_ them pay.



JANET

She did dun them, of course, but they only
ordered more hats to keep her quiet which didn’t
help Miss Hicks much. And when she went on
dunning them they said they should withdraw
their custom. In fact, she was in a dilemma. If
she let the bills run on she couldn’t pay her
rent. And if she asked her customers to pay
their bills they ceased to be customers.



MONTY

How beastly!



JANET

Not again, Monty!



MONTY

What _did_ she do?



JANET

She didn’t do anything. She was too depressed.
She used to sit in the back room where the
hats were trimmed and weep over the materials,
regardless of expense. Finally things came to a
crisis. The landlord threatened to distrain for
his rent. But just as it looked as if it was all
over with Claude et Cie a capitalist came to the
rescue. _I_ was the capitalist.



MONTY

You?



JANET

Yes. I’d an old Aunt once who was fond of me
and left me a legacy when I was seventeen. Four
hundred pounds.



MONTY

That wouldn’t go very far.



JANET

Four hundred pounds goes a longish way towards
setting up a shop. Besides, it was nearly five
hundred by that time. My shares had gone up.
Well, I and my five hundred pounds came to the
rescue. I paid the rent and the most clamorous
of the creditors, and Miss Hicks and I became
partners.



MONTY

But what was the good of that if the business
was worth nothing?



JANET

It was worth several hundred pounds to any
one, who had the pluck to sue half the British
aristocracy. I sued them. It was tremendous
fun. They were simply furious. They talked as if
they’d never been sued before! As for Miss Hicks
she wept more than ever and said I’d ruined the
business.



MONTY

Hadn’t you?



JANET

That business. Yes. But with the £1,200--or as
much of it as we could recover--we started a
new one. A cheap hat-shop. Relatively cheap that
is-for Hanover Street. We charged two guineas
a hat instead of seven, 100 per cent, profit
instead of... You can work it out for yourself.
But then our terms were strictly cash, so we
made no bad debts. That was my idea.



MONTY

But you said nobody ever paid for their hats.



JANET

Not in the highest social circles. But we drew
our customers from the middle classes who live
in South Kensington and Bayswater, and are not
too haughty to pay for a hat if they see a cheap
one.



MONTY

But wasn’t it a frightful risk?



JANET

_(cheerfully)_

It was a risk, of course. But everything in life
is a risk, isn’t it? And it succeeded, as I felt
sure it would. We’re quite a prosperous concern
nowadays, and I go over to Paris four times a
year to see the latest fashions. That, my dear
Monty, is the history of Claude et Cie.

[_Pause._



MONTY

And you’ve never married, Janet?



JANET

No.



MONTY {hesitates)

Is it because...?



JANET

Because?



MONTY

Because you still care for me?



JANET

Monty, don’t be vain.



MONTY

_(repelled)_

I didn’t mean it like that. Janet, don’t laugh.
Of course, I’m glad if you don’t care any more.
At least, I suppose I ought to be glad. It would
have been dreadful if you had gone on caring all
these years and I not known. But did you?



JANET

No, Monty, I didn’t. You may set your mind at
rest.



MONTY

You’re sure?



JANET

Quite. I had too many other things to think of.



MONTY

Do you mean that beastly shop?



JANET

_(quietly)_

I meant my baby.



MONTY

_Our_ baby. Is it alive?



JANET

Of course. What do you mean, Monty?



MONTY

I thought, as you didn’t say... _(thoughtfully)_
Poor little beast! _(Janet makes gesture of
protest.)_ Well, it’s rough luck on the
little beggar, isn’t it? What’s become of him,
Janet?



JANET

What’s _become_ of him! My dear Monty, what
should have become of him? He’s quite alive as I
said and particularly thriving.



MONTY

Do you mean he’s _living_ with you!.. But, of
course, I forgot, you’re supposed to be married.



JANET

_(correcting him)_

A widow, Monty. An inconsolable widow!



MONTY

Where is he? In London?



JANET

No. As a matter of fact he’s probably not fifty
yards away. Over there.

[_Points towards the wood._



MONTY

_(jumping up)_

Janet! _(nervously looking round)_.



JANET

_(rallying him)_

Frightened, Monty?



MONTY

Of course not _(shamefacedly)_



JANET

Just a little?



MONTY

_(regaining courage)_

Janet, let me see him.



JANET

_(amused)_

Would you like to?



MONTY

Of course I should. He’s _my_ baby as well as
yours if it comes to that. Do call him, Janet.



JANET

All right, _(calls)_ Johnny! _(pause)_ John...
ny! _[‘To Monty)_ You mustn’t tell him, you
know.



MONTY

Of course not.



JOHNNY

_(off r.)_

Yes, Mummie.



JANET

Come here for a minute. Mother wants to speak to
you.



JOHNNY

_(off)_

Very well, Mummie. _(Enters r.)_ Oh, Mummie,
I’ve found such a lot of rabbits. You must come
and see them. _(Seeing Monty for the first time,
stares at him.)_ Oh!



MONTY

Come here, youngster. Come and let me look
at you. _(Johnny goes to him slowly. Monty,
grasping both hands, draws him to him, looking
at him long and keenly.)_ He’s like you, Janet.



JANET

Is he?



MONTY

Yes. He has your eyes. So your name’s Johnny,
young man?



JOHNNY

Yes.



MONTY

Well, Johnny, will you give me a kiss? _(Monty
leans forward. He does so.)_ That’s right.



JOHNNY

And now, Mummie, come and look at my rabbits.



JANET

Not yet, dear. Mother’s busy just now.



JOHNNY

May I go back to them then?



JANET

Yes.



MONTY

Suppose I won’t let you go?



JOHNNY

I’ll make you--and so will Mummie.



MONTY

Plucky little chap. Off with you.

[_Kisses him again, then releases his hands.
Johnny trots off r. again. Monty follows him
with his eyes. Pause._



JANET

Well, Monty, what do you think of him?



MONTY

_(enthusiastic)_

I think he’s _splendid_.



JANET

_(proudly)_

Isn’t he? And such a sturdy little boy. He
weighed ten pounds before he was a month old.

I say, Janet.



MONTY

_(shyly)_



JANET

Yes?



MONTY

_(hesitates)_

You’ll let me kiss you once more, won’t you? For
the last time?... _(she hesitates)_. You don’t
mind?



JANET

_(heartily)_ .

Of course not, Monty. You’re not _married_ yet,
you know.



MONTY



JANET! My dear, dear Janet!

[_Seizes her and kisses her fiercely._



JANET

_(releasing herself gently)_

That’s enough, Monty.



MONTY

_(remorsefully)_

I’m afraid I behaved like an awful brute to you,
Janet.



JANET

_(lightly)_

Oh no.



MONTY

Yes, I did. I ought to have married you. I ought
to marry you still. On account of the boy.



JANET

_(quite matter of fact)_

Oh well, you can’t do that now in any case, can
you --as you’re engaged to Bertha Aldenham.



MONTY

You’ve heard about that? Who told you?



JANET

A worthy lady called Miss Deanes.



MONTY

I know. A regular sickener.



JANET

My dear Monty!



MONTY

Sorry.



JANET

She brought the good news. The very day I
arrived as it happened. We’ve hardly talked of
anything else at the Manor House since--except
father’s illness, of course.



MONTY

Why?



JANET

What else is there to talk about--in Brendon?



MONTY

That’s true. Isn’t it... _(stops himself, looks
at watch. Whistles.)_ Whew! [_Rises._



JANET

What is it, Monty?



MONTY

I say, Janet, I wonder if you’d mind going now?

Why?



JANET

[_She rises too._



MONTY

_(awkwardly)_

Well, the fact is I’m expecting some one here
directly. I...



JANET

Bertha?



MONTY

Yes. I was to meet her here at the stile at six.



JANET

_Our_ stile, Monty.



MONTY

Yes,... You don’t mind, do you--about my asking
you to go, I mean?



JANET

_(sitting again)_

Not in the least.



MONTY

But you’re not going?



JANET

Why should I go?



MONTY

Oh, well, I thought-----



JANET

That it wouldn’t be quite suitable for us to
meet?



MONTY

I didn’t mean that, of course. But I thought you
mightn’t like--I mean it might be painful...

[_Sits again._



JANET

For me to see her? On the contrary, I’m dying to
see her.



MONTY

Janet, sometimes I think you’re not quite human.



JANET

My dear boy, I’m extremely human--and therefore
curious _(pause)_. What’s she like, Monty? Now,
I mean. She promised to be pretty.



MONTY

She is pretty, I suppose _(pause)_. I wonder if
Bertha and I will ever have a son like Johnny!



JANET

Let’s hope so, Monty. For Bertha’s sake.



MONTY

Isn’t that some one coming? _(pause, listens)_,
I expect it’s she _(rising hastily and advancing
towards stile)_. Is that you, Bertha?



BERTHA

_(at stile)_

Oh! There you are. Yes. Isn’t it hot? _(entering
by gate which he opens for her)_. Am I punctual?
_(with a cry)_ Janet! When did you come home?

[_Goes to her eagerly._



JANET

_(shaking hands)_

Only three days ago.

[_Bertha kisses her._



BERTHA

_Only_ three days! And you’ve never been up to
see us.



JANET

I know. But with father ill



BERTHA

Of course. I understand. I was only joking. How
is Mr. De Mullin?



JANET

Much better. Not well yet, of course. But he
gets stronger every day.



BERTHA

I’m so glad. I say, Janet, do you remember when
you used to teach us French?



JANET

Yes.



BERTHA

I was awfully troublesome, I remember.



MONTY

I expect you were an awful duffer at it too,
Bertha.



BERTHA

What cheek!



MONTY

Wasn’t she, Ja--_(pulls himself up)_ Miss De
Mullin?

[_Janet smiles nervously._

Oh, yes.



BERTHA

I didn’t know you’d met Janet, Monty? Why didn’t
you tell us?

[_Quite unsuspicious of anything wrong. Merely
curious._



MONTY

It was some time ago.



BERTHA

_(surprised)_

Not at Brendon? You’ve never been at Brendon
before.



MONTY

No. It was at Weymouth. I was there getting over
typhoid years ago.



BERTHA

I remember, you told me. Eight or nine years
ago, wasn’t it?



MONTY

Yes _(looks at watch)_. I say, Bertha, we must
be off if we’re not to be late.



BERTHA

Give me two minutes to rest. The weather’s
simply stifling.



MONTY

Rot! It’s quite cool.



BERTHA

Then you must have been sitting here a long
time. I’ve been walking along a dusty road and
I’m not going to start yet. Besides I want to
know all about you two meeting. Were you staying
at Weymouth, Janet?



JANET

Oh no. I just bicycled over. Mr. Bulstead ran
into me.



MONTY

I like that. She ran into _me_.



JANET

Anyhow my front wheel buckled and he had to help
me to put it right.



BERTHA

What gallantry!



MONTY

It was. The beastly thing took about half an
hour. By the time it was over we seemed to
have known each other for a lifetime _(looks
at watch)_. Two minutes is up. Time to start,
Bertha.



BERTHA

It isn’t.



MONTY

It is. You’ll be late for dressing to a
certainty if you don’t go.



BERTHA

I like that. I can dress as quickly as you if it
comes to that.



MONTY

Oh no. I can dress in ten minutes. I’ll give you
a quarter of an hour’s start and be down in the
drawing-room five minutes before you’re ready.
Is it a bet?



BERTHA

Done. In sixpences. _(To Janet)_ I’m staying at
the Park for a few days longer, Janet. Come up
and see me, won’t you?



JANET

_(uncomfortably)_

I’m afraid I can’t promise. On account of
father.



BERTHA

Well, after I’ve gone home then. Mother will
want to see you. And so will Helen. And now I
suppose I really must go. Come along, Monty.



MONTY

Not I. I needn’t go for a quarter of an hour.
You have a quarter of an hour’s start.



BERTHA

All right. Good-bye, Janet _(kisses her)_. You
won’t forget about coming as soon as you can? I
go back home on Thursday.



JANET

I won’t forget. Good-bye. [_Bertha goes off
through the wood. Janet watches her go and there
is a pause._) Yes, she _is_ pretty, Monty. Very
pretty.



MONTY

_(nods)_

You don’t mind?



JANET

Her being pretty? Of course not. It’s a
justification.



MONTY

A justification?



JANET

For forgetting me



MONTY

_(impulsively, seizing her hands)_

Janet, I’ve never done that. You know I haven’t.



JANET

_(drawing back)_

No, Monty. Not again. [_Pause._



MONTY

I say, I as nearly as possible called you Janet
right out before Bertha.



JANET

So I saw. You _did_ call me Miss De Mullin, by
the way,--which wasn’t very clever of you.



MONTY

Did I? What an ass I am! But I don’t suppose she
noticed.



JANET

I dare say not. _(A shrill cry comes from the
wood on the right. Then silence. Janet starts
up.)_ What was that?



MONTY

I don’t know.



JANET

It sounded like a child. Where did it come from?
Over here, didn’t it?



MONTY

I think so.



JANET

_(alarmed)_

I hope Johnny... I must go and see... _(A moment
later Johnny runs in, sobbing, followed by Mrs.
De Mullin and Bertha.)_ Johnny! What is it, my
sweetheart?

[_Runs to him._



JOHNNY

Oh, Mummie, Mummie, I was running after the
rabbits and I tripped over some nettles and they
stung me.



MRS. DE MULLIN

He put his foot in a hole, Janet. He fell just
as I met Bertha _(shakes hands with Monty)_. How
do you do Mr. Bulstead.



JANET

There! There! my pet. Did it hurt very much?
Mother shall kiss it and make it well.



JOHNNY (sobs)

Oh-h-h--- [_Does so._



BERTHA

Is he your son?



JANET

Yes. Don’t cry any more, dear. Brave boys don’t
cry, you know.



JOHNNY

_(gasps)_

It h-hurts so.



JANET

I know. But crying won’t make it hurt less, will
it? So you must dry your eyes. Come now.



JOHNNY

All right, Mummie.

[_Stills sobs gradually._



BERTHA

_(astonished)_

I’d no idea you were married, Janet.



JANET

Hadn’t you?



BERTHA

No. When was it?



JANET

Eight years ago. Nearly nine. To Mr. Seagrave.



BERTHA

Is he down here with you?



JANET

No. My husband died soon after our marriage.



BERTHA

Poor Janet. I’m so sorry _(pause)_. And it was
before your marriage that Monty met you?



JANET

How do you know?



BERTHA

_(quite unsuspicious)_

He called you Miss De Mullin.



JANET

Of course.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(pricking up her ears
suspiciously at this.)_

I didn’t know you had met my daughter before,
Mr. Bulstead.



BERTHA

Nor did I. They met down at Weymouth quite by
chance eight or nine years ago.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(gravely)_

Indeed?



MONTY

Yes... I say, Bertha, excuse my interrupting
you. but we really must be off now if we’re not
to be late.



BERTHA

You want to win that bet!



MONTY

The bet’s off. There’s no time to give you any
start. I must come too or I shan’t be in time
myself and the Governor will simply curse.



BERTHA

Is Mr. Bulstead _very_ fierce if people are late
for dinner?



MONTY

Simply beastly.



BERTHA

How very unpleasant! I wonder if I’m wise to
marry into the family?

[_Shaking hands merrily with Mrs. DeMullin and
Janet. Then goes off r., laughing merrily._



MONTY

_(sardonically)_

I wonder _(shakes hands with Mrs. De Mullin and
Janet)_. Will you give me a kiss, old chap?

[_To Johnny._



JOHNNY

That’s three times.

[_Monty nods._

[_Monty follows Bertha off r. A long pause. Mrs.
De Mullin looks fixedly at Janet. Janet looks at
the ground._



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(slowly)_

Mr. Montague Bulstead seems unusually fond of
children, Janet.



JANET

Does he, mother?

[_She does not look up._



MRS. DE MULLIN

Yes. Johnny is rather old to be kissed by
strangers.



JANET

I supposed he kissed him because he was brave
about being stung.



MRS. DE MULLIN

He seems to have kissed him before. Twice.



JANET

I dare say. I didn’t notice.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Johnny did, apparently.



JANET

Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, does it? _(Looks
up defiantly. Meets her mother’s eyes full on
her)_ Why do you look at me like that, mother?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Send Johnny away for a little, Janet. I want to
speak to you.



JANET

I’d rather not, mother. He might hurt himself
again.



MRS. DE MULLIN

He will be quite safe. Run away, Johnny. But
don’t go too far.



JOHNNY

All right, grandmother.

[_Johnny trots off into the wood. Pause._



JANET

_(defiantly)_

Well, mother?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet, why did you never tell us you had met Mr.
Bulstead before?



JANET

When?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Any time during the last three days, when we
were speaking of his engagement.



JANET

I’d forgotten all about it, mother.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Indeed? And why didn’t you tell us eight years
ago, when you met him at Weymouth, when you were
still “Miss De Mullin”?



JANET

Mother, don’t badger me like this. If you want
to ask me anything ask it.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet, Mr. Bulstead is Johnny’s father.



JANET

Mr. Bulstead? Absurd!



MRS. DE MULLIN

Then why did you pretend not to have met him?
Why did you conceal the fact of your meeting
him from us eight years ago? And why has
he concealed the fact from Bertha and the
Bulsteads?

[_Pause._



JANET

_(resignedly)_

Very well, mother, if you’re determined to know
you must know. Yes, he’s Johnny’s father.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Oh, Janet!



JANET

_(irritably)_

Well, mother, if you didn’t want to know you
shouldn’t have asked. I told you not to
worry me. _(Mrs. De Mullin begins to cry.
Remorsefully,)_

There, there, mother! Don’t cry. I’m sorry I was
cross to you. Don’t let’s talk any more about
it.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(snuffling)_

No, Janet, we _must_ talk about it. There’s no
use trying to hide things any longer. You must
tell me the truth.



JANET

Much better not, mother. It won’t give you any
pleasure to hear.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Still, I’d rather know, Janet.



JANET

_(shrugs)_

As you please. What do you want me to tell you?
Mrs. De Mullin

Everything. How did you come to be at Weymouth?
I don’t remember your staying at Weymouth eight
years ago.



JANET

I wasn’t staying there. But Monty was.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(shocked)_

Monty!



JANET

Mr. Bulstead. Oh, what _does_ it matter now?

He’d had typhoid and was there to recruit. I’d
ridden over on my bicycle...



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(lamentably)_

Bicycle! I always said it was all through
bicycling.



JANET

_(another shrug)_

He ran into me, or I ran into him. I was rather
shaken, and he asked me to come in and rest.
It happened close to the house where he was
lodging.



MRS. DE MULLIN

You went in! To his lodgings! A man you had
never met before!



JANET

My dear mother, when you have been thrown off
a bicycle, ordinary conventions cease to apply.
Besides, as a matter of fact, we _had_ met once
before--the day before, in fact.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Where?



JANET

Here. By this very stile. Monty was riding past
and he asked me the way to somewhere--Thoresby,
I think. I was standing by the stile. Next day I
happened to ride into Weymouth. We collided--and
the rest you know.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(sternly)_

Were those the _only_ times you met him, Janet?



JANET

Of course not, mother. After the Weymouth
collision we met constantly, nearly every day.
We used to meet out riding and I had tea with
him lots of times in his rooms.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(horrified)_

How long did this go on?



JANET

More than a month--till he left Weymouth, in
fact. Now, mother, is that all you want to know?
Because if so we’ll drop the subject.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Oh, Janet, what _will_ your father say!



JANET

Father? He won’t know.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Won’t know? But I must tell him.



JANET

Good heavens, why?



MRS. DE MULLIN

In order that Mr. Bulstead may marry you, of
course. Your father will insist on his marrying
you.



JANET

If father attempts to do that, mother, I shall
deny the whole story. And Monty will back me up.



MRS. DE MULLIN

He would never be so wicked.



JANET

He would have to if I ask him. It’s the least he
could do.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Johnny is there to prove it.



JANET

There’s nothing to prove that Monty is Johnny’s
father. Nothing whatever.



MRS. DE MULLIN

But, Janet, _why_ won’t you marry him?



JANET

_(impatiently)_

My dear mother, because I don’t want to, of
course.



MRS. DE MULLIN

You don’t _want_ to?



JANET

Great heavens, no. Why should I? Monty Bulstead
isn’t at all the sort of man I should care to
_marry_.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Why not?



JANET

Frankly, mother, because he’s not interesting
enough. Monty’s a very nice fellow and I like
him very much, but I don’t want to pass the
remainder of my life with him. If I’m to marry
anybody--and I don’t think I shall--it will have
to be a rather more remarkable person than Monty
Bulstead.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Yet you _did_ love him, Janet. You must have
loved him... then.



JANET

Oh yes. Then. But that was ages ago, before
Johnny was born. After that I didn’t care for
anybody any more except Johnny.



MRS. DE MULLIN

But, Janet, you _ought_ to marry him, for
Johnny’s sake.



JANET

Too late, mother. That should have been eight
years ago to be any use.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Better too late than not at all.



JANET

Better not at all than too late.



MRS. DE MULLIN

He seduced you, Janet.



JANET

_(thoughtfully)_

Did he? I was twenty-seven. He was twenty. If
either of us was to blame, wasn’t it I?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet, you’re trying to screen him.



JANET

Dearest mother, you talk like a sentimental
novel.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(indignantly)_

And he’s to be allowed to marry Bertha Aldenham,
just as if this had never happened?



JANET

Why not? It’s not _her_ fault, is it? And
girls find it difficult enough to get married
nowadays, goodness knows.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Still, she _ought_ to be told, Janet. I think
_she must_ be told.



JANET

My dear mother, if _she_ knows everybody will
know, and the scandal will make all the dead
and gone De Mullins turn in their graves. As for
father it would simply kill him out of hand.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(sadly)_

Poor father.



JANET

_(briskly)_

So, on the whole, I don’t think we’ll tell any
one. Come, mother, it’s time we started. _(More
kindly)_ Poor mother. Don’t fret. Perhaps Hester
will have some news to cheer you when we get
home.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Hester?



JANET

_(rallying her)_

An engagement, mother. Hester’s engagement.
Hester and Mr. Brown have been decorating
the church for the last _four_ hours. What an
opportunity for a declaration! Or don’t people
propose in church?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet, how can you laugh after what has
happened?



JANET

Laugh? Of course I can laugh. What else is there
to do? Let’s go home. Johnny! Johnny! _(calls)_.

[_By this time twilight is falling. A full moon
has begun to risey lighting uf the scene._



JOHNNY

_(off r.)_

Yes, Mummie.



JANET

Come along, dear. Mother’s going to start.
Johnny _(off r.)_

All right, Mummie. _(entering r.)_ Oh, Mummie,
you’ve not seen my rabbits yet!



JANET

No. It’s too dark to-night. Mother must come and
see them another time.



JOHNNY

You won’t forget, will you, Mummie? _(looking
at Mrs. De Mullin)_ Grandmother, you’ve been
crying. Is that because I stung myself with a
nettle?



JANET

Little egoist! Of course it is. Give your
grandmother a kiss and we’ll all walk home
together.

[_Mrs. De Mullin stoop and kisses Johnny
passionately. They go off through the gate and
the curtain falls._




ACT III


Five days have passed since Act II

_Scene:_ As in Act I

_Time:_ Late afternoon


[_When the curtain rises Mrs. Clouston, Mrs. De
Mullin, and Janet are on the stage. The nervous
tension of the last few days has clearly told on
Janet, who looks feverish and irritable._



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(speaking off into the hall on
the right)_ Good-bye. Good-bye.



JANET

_(who is standing about c., scornfully)_
Good-bye! Good-bye!



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(shocked)_

Janet!



JANET

_(fiercely)_

How many times a week does that Bulstead woman
think it necessary to call on us?



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(sitting)_

She doesn’t call very often.



JANET

She’s been three times this week.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(closing door r.)_

Naturally she wants to hear how your father is,
dear.



JANET

_(irritably)_

My dear mother, what _can_ it matter to Mrs.
Bulstead whether father lives or dies?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet!



JANET

_(exasperated)_

Well, mother, do you seriously believe she
cares? Or Miss Deanes? Or Miss Rolt? Or any of
these people? They only call because they’ve
nothing better to do. It’s sheer mental vacuity
on their part. Besides, father’s perfectly well
now. They know that. But they go on _calling,
calling!_ I wonder Miss Deanes doesn’t bring her
cockatoo to inquire.

[_Tramps to and fro impatiently._



MRS. CLOUSTON

Really, Janet, I can’t think what’s the matter
with you. Do sit down and try and exercise some
selfcontrol.



JANET

I’ve no self-control where these Brendon people
are concerned. They get on my nerves, every one
of them.... Where’s Johnny?



MRS. DE MULLIN

In the garden, I think,



JANET

Sensible boy! He’s had enough of visitors for
one day, I’ll be bound. I’ll go out and join
him.

[_Goes out angrily._



MRS. CLOUSTON

I can’t think what’s come to Janet the last day
or two. Her temper gets worse and worse.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Perhaps it’s only the hot weather. No De
Mullin---



MRS. CLOUSTON

Nonsense, Jane, don’t be foolish. We can’t have
_Janet_ giving way to that sort of thing at her
age.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I’m afraid she is rather irritable just now. She
flew out quite savagely at Hester to-day just
after luncheon.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Why was that?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Because of something she had been teaching
Johnny. The Athanasian Creed I think it was.
Yes, it must have been that because Johnny asked
Janet what was meant by three Incomprehensibles.
Janet asked him where he had heard all that and
Johnny said Aunt Hester had taught it to him.
Janet was very angry and forbade Hester ever to
teach him anything again. Hester was quite hurt
about it.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Naturally. Still, I do think Hester might have
chosen something else to teach him.



MRS. DE MULLIN

That was what Janet said.



MRS. CLOUSTON

But that’s no reason why she shouldn’t behave
herself when visitors are here. She was quite
rude to Mrs. Bulstead. What they think of her
in London when she goes on like this I can’t
imagine.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Perhaps she isn’t like this in London.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Of course she is, Jane. Worse. Here she has the
restraining influences of home life. Whereas in
London, living alone as she does...



MRS. DE MULLIN

She has Johnny.



MRS. CLOUSTON

She has Johnny, of course. But that’s not
enough. She ought to have a husband to look
after her.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(sighs)_

Yes.

[_Seats herself slowly beside her sister._



MRS. CLOUSTON

Where’s Hester?



MRS. DE MULLIN

At church, I expect.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Church! Why the girl’s always at church.



MRS. DE MULLIN

It’s a Wednesday. And it does no harm, I think.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Let us hope not, Jane.

[_De Mullin enters by the door on the left. He
has evidently got over his recent attack and
looks comparatively hale and vigorous._



MRS. DE MULLIN

Have you had your nap, Hugo?



DE MULLIN

Yes. The sunset woke me, I suppose. It was
shining full on my face.



MRS. DE MULLIN

What a pity it woke you.



DE MULLIN

It didn’t matter. I’ve slept enough... _(wanders
towards sofa, c.)_. Where’s Johnny?



MRS. DE MULLIN

In the garden, I think, with Janet.



DE MULLIN

_(wanders to window, c., and looks
out)_

Yes. There he is. He’s playing hide and seek
with Ellen.... Now she’s caught him. No, he’s
got away. Bravo, Johnny! _(Stands watching
intently for a while. Then turns and comes down
c.)_ What a fine little fellow it is! A true De
Mullin!



MRS. DE MULLIN

Do you think so, Hugo?



DE MULLIN

Every inch of him! _(pause, sits c., half to
himself)_ If only Janet had been married!



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(sighs)_

Yes.



DE MULLIN

_(musing)_

I wonder who the father really was. _(looking
up)_ She has never told you, Jane, I suppose?



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(steadily, without looking up)_

No, Hugo.



MRS. CLOUSTON

And never will. Nobody was ever so obstinate as
Janet.



DE MULLIN

_(nods sadly)_



JANET always had plenty of will.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Far too much! [_pause._



MRS. DE MULLIN

You’ll quite miss Johnny when he goes away from
us, Won’t you, Hugo.



DE MULLIN

Yes. I never thought I could grow so fond of a
child. The house will seem empty without him.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I shall miss him too.



DE MULLIN

We shall all miss him. _(pause, thoughtfully)_ I
wonder if Janet would leave him with us when she
goes back to London?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Leave him with us? Altogether, you mean?



DE MULLIN

Yes.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I’m afraid not, Hugo. In fact, I’m quite sure
she would not. She’s so fond of Johnny.



DE MULLIN

I suppose she wouldn’t _(pause)_. I was greatly
shocked at what you told me about her the other
day, Harriet.



MRS. CLOUSTON

About her keeping a shop, you mean?



DE MULLIN

Yes. And going into partnership with a
Miss Higgs or Hicks. It all sounds most
discreditable.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Deplorable.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(meekly)_

She had to do something to keep herself, Hugo.



DE MULLIN

No doubt. Still, it can’t be considered a proper
sort of position for my daughter. I think she
must give it up at once.



MRS. DE MULLIN

She would only have to take to something else.



DE MULLIN

Not necessarily. She might come back here to
live with us... with Johnny, of course.

Mrs. De. Mullin _(astonished)_

_Live_ with us?



DE MULLIN

Why not, Jane?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Well, of course if _you_ think so, Hugo.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Are you sure you will like to have Janet living
at home again, Hugo?



DE MULLIN

I think it might be the best arrangement. And
I shall like to have Johnny here. He’s our only
descendant, Harriet, the last of the De Mullins.
If you or Jane had had a son it would be
different.



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(sighs)_

Yes.



DE MULLIN

As it is I don’t see how we can do
anything-better than have them both down
here--as Jane doesn’t think Janet would part
with Johnny. It would be better for Janet
too. It would take her away from her present
unsatisfactory surroundings. It would give her
a position and independence--everything she now
lacks.



MRS. DE MULLIN

I should have thought she was _independent_ now,



DE MULLIN

_(irritably)_

My dear Jane, how can a woman possibly be
independent whose income comes out of selling
hats? The only form of independence that is
possible or desirable for a woman is that she
shall be dependent upon her husband or, if she
is unmarried, on her nearest male relative. I am
sure _you_ agree with me, Harriet?



MRS. CLOUSTON

Quite, Hugo.



DE MULLIN

Very well. I will speak to her about it at once.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(nervously)_

I hardly think I would say anything about it
to-day, Hugo.



DE MULLIN

Why not, Jane?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Well, she seems nervous and irritable to-day. I
think I should put it off for a day or two.



DE MULLIN

_(testily)_

My dear Jane, you are always procrastinating. If
such an arrangement is to be made the sooner
it is made the better. _(Goes to window, c.,
calls)_ Janet my dear. Janet.

[_Pause. Then Janet appears at window, c._



JANET

Did you call me, father?



DE MULLIN

Yes. Come to me for a moment. I want to speak
to you. _(De Mullin wanders undecidedly to the
fireplace. A moment later Janet enters from the
garden.)_ Is Johnny with you?



JANET

No. He’s having tea with Ellen. I said he might.

[_Pause. Janet comes down._



DE MULLIN

Janet, your mother and I have been talking over
your future.



JANET

Have you, father?

[_With a quick glance at her mother. Mrs. De
Mullin, however, makes no sign._



DE MULLIN

Yes. We have come to the conclusion that it
would be better for you to come back here to
live.

[_Janet faces round towards her father._



JANET

But what would become of the business?



DE MULLIN

You will have to give up the business, of
course. So much the better. You never ought to
have gone into it. It was not at all a suitable
occupation for you.



JANET

But I like it, father.



MRS. CLOUSTON

_Like_ it! A De Mullin _like_ keeping a shop!
Impossible.



JANET

_(firmly)_

Yes, Aunt Harriet, I like it. And I’m proud of
it.



DE MULLIN

_(sharply)_

Nonsense, Janet. Nobody can possibly be proud of
keeping a shop.



JANET

_I_ am. I made it, you see. It’s my child, like
Johnny.



DE MULLIN

_(amazed)_



JANET! Do you understand what you’re doing? I
offer you the chance of returning to Brendon to
live as my daughter.



JANET

_(indifferently)_

I quite understand, father. And I’m much obliged
for the offer. Only I decline it. That’s all.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Really!



DE MULLIN

_(with dignity)_

The question is, are you to be allowed to
decline it, in Johnny’s interests if not your
own?



JANET

Johnny’s?



DE MULLIN

Yes. Johnny’s. As long as he was a child it
made little difference where he was brought up.
Relatively little that is. Now he is getting
to an age when early associations are
all-important. Living here at Brendon in the
home of his ancestors he will grow up worthy of
the race from which he is descended. He will be
a true De Mullin.



JANET

_(quietly)_

Perhaps I don’t want him to be a true De Mullin,
father.



DE MULLIN

What do you mean?



JANET

My dear father, you’re infatuated about your De
Mullins. Who are the De Mullins, after all?
Mere country squires who lived on here down at
Brendon generation after generation. What have
they ever done that I should want Johnny to be
like them? Nothing. There’s not one of them who
has ever distinguished himself in the smallest
degree or made his name known outside his native
village. The De Mullins are, and have always
been, nobodies. Look at their portraits. Is
there a single one of them that is worth a
second glance? Why they never even had the
brains to be painted by a decent artist. With
the result that they aren’t worth the canvas
they’re painted on. Or is it board? I’d make a
bonfire of them if they were mine.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet!



JANET

_(impatiently)_

I would. You seem to think there’s some peculiar
virtue about always living in the same place. I
believe in people uprooting themselves and doing
something with their lives. What was the good of
the De Mullins going on living down here century
after century, always a little poorer and a
little poorer, selling a farm here, mortgaging
another there, instead of going out into the
world to seek their fortunes? We’ve stayed too
long in one place, we De Mullins. We shall never
be worth anything sleeping away our lives down
at Brendon.



DE MULLIN

_(sharply)_

Janet, you are talking foolishly. What you say
only makes it clearer to me that you cannot
be allowed to live by yourself in London any
longer. Such a life is demoralizing to you. You
must come back to Brendon.



JANET

I shall not come back to Brendon, father. On
that I am quite determined.



DE MULLIN

_(with dignity)_

My dear, this is not a matter that rests with
you. My mind is made up. Hitherto I have only
asked you to return. Do not force me to command
you.



JANET

_(fiercely)_

Command? By what right do you command?



DE MULLIN

By the right of a father, Janet. By that right I
insist on your obedience.



JANET

_(losing her temper)_

Obedience! Obedience! I owe no one obedience.
I am of full age and can order my life as I
please. Is a woman never to be considered old
enough to manage her own affairs? Is she to go
down to her grave everlastingly under tutelage?
Is she always to be obeying a father when she’s
not obeying a husband? Well, I, for one, will
not submit to such nonsense. I’m sick of this
everlasting _obedience_.



DE MULLIN

_(fiercely)_



JANET...!

[_Door opens l. Ellen enters with the lamp.
There is a considerable pause, during which
Ellen puts down the lamp, turns it up, pulls
down the blind and begins to draw the curtains.
In the middle of the last process De Mullin
intervenes._



DE MULLIN

(irritably)

You can leave the curtains, Ellen.



ELLEN

Very well, sir.

[_Exit Ellen l. with maddening deliberation.
Pause._



JANET

Father, I’m sorry if what I said vexed you.
Perhaps I spoke too strongly.



DE MULLIN

_(with great dignity)_

Very well, Janet. You will remain with us.



JANET

No, father, that’s not possible. For Johnny’s
sake, as well as my own, it would be madness for
us to live down here.



DE MULLIN

For Johnny’s sake?



JANET

Yes, Johnny’s. In London we’re not known, he and
I. There he’s simply Johnny Seagrave, the son of
a respectable widow who keeps a hat-shop. Here
he is the son of Janet De Mullin who ran away
from home one night eight years ago and whose
name was never mentioned again by her parents
until one fine day she turned up with an
eight-year-old boy and said she was married. How
long would they take to see through _that_ story
down here, do you think?



MRS. CLOUSTON

_(tartly)_

Whose fault is that?



JANET

Never mind whose fault it is, Aunt Harriet. The
question is, will they see through it or will
they not? Of course, they _know_ nothing so far,
but I’ve no doubt they suspect. What else have
people to do down here but suspect other people?
Miss Deanes murmurs her doubts to Mrs. Bulstead
and Mrs. Bulstead shakes her head to Miss
Deanes. Mrs. Bulstead! What right has _she_ to
look down that huge nose of hers at _me!_ She’s
had _ten_ children!



MRS. DE MULLIN



JANET! She’s married.



JANET

To Mr. Bulstead! That vulgar animal! You don’t
ask me to consider that a _merit_, do you? No,
Mrs. Bulstead shan’t have the chance of sneering
at Johnny if _I_ can help it. Or at me either.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet, listen to me. You don’t understand how
your father feels about this or how much it
means to him. Johnny is his only grandchild--our
only descendant. He would adopt him and call him
De Mullin, and then the name would not die out.
You know how much your father thinks of that and
how sorry he has always been that I never had a
son.



JANET

_(more gently)_

I know, mother. But when Hester marries...



HESTER?



DE MULLIN



JANET

Yes.



DE MULLIN

_(turning angrily to his wife)_

But whom is Hester going to marry? Is she going
to marry? I have heard nothing about this.
What’s this, Jane? Has something been kept from
me?



MRS. DE MULLIN

No, no, Hugo. Nothing has been kept from you.
It’s only some fancy of Janet’s. She thinks Mr.
Brown is going to propose to Hester. There’s
nothing in it, really.



DE MULLIN

Mr. Brown! Impossible!



MRS. CLOUSTON

Quite impossible!



JANET

_(calmly)_

Why impossible, father?



DE MULLIN

He would never dare to do such a thing. _Mr.
Brown_ to have the audacity to propose to _my_
daughter!



JANET

_(quietly)_

Why not, father?



DE MULLIN

_(bubbling with rage)_

Because he is not of a suitable position.
Because the _De Mullins_ cannot be expected to
marry people of _that_ class. Because...



JANET

_(shrugs)_

I dare say Mr. Brown won’t think of all that.
Anyhow, I hope he won’t. I hope he’ll propose
to Hester and she’ll accept him and then when
they’ve a whole herd of little Browns you can
select one of them and make a De Mullin of him,
poor little wretch.

_[At this moment Hester enters from the garden.
An uncomfortable silence falls_.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Hush, hush, Janet. Here is Hester. Is that you,
Hester? Have you come from church?



HESTER

Yes, mother.

_[She comes down, her face looking pale and
drawn, and stands by her mother._



MRS. DE MULLIN

You’re very late, dear.



HESTER

A little, I stayed on after service was over.



MRS. CLOUSTON

How very eccentric of you!



HESTER

_(quietly)_

I suppose saying one’s prayers does seem
eccentric to you, Aunt Harriet?



MRS. CLOUSTON

My dear Hester, considering you’d only just
finished _one_ service...



JANET

_(who has not noticed the look on her
sister’s face)_

Well, Aunt Harriet, who was right?



MRS. DE MULLIN

Hush, Janet!



JANET

_(gaily)_

My dear mother, what on earth is there to “hush”
 about? And what on earth is there to keep Hester
in church half an hour after service is over, if
it’s not what I told you?



HESTER

What do you mean?



JANET

Nothing, dear. Come and give me a kiss.

[_Pulling her towards her._



HESTER {repulsing her roughly)

I won’t. Leave me alone, Janet. What has she
been saying about me, mother? I insist on
knowing.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Nothing, dear. Only some nonsense about you and
Mr. Brown. Janet is always talking nonsense.



JANET

Yes, Hester. About you and Mr. Brown. _Your_ Mr.
Brown. Confess he has asked you to marry him as
I said?



HESTER

_(slowly)_

Mr. Brown is engaged to be married to Agatha
Bulstead. He told me so this evening after
service.



JANET

He told you!



HESTER

Yes. He asked me to congratulate him.



JANET

The little wretch!



MRS. DE MULLIN

To Agatha Bulstead? That’s the plain one, isn’t
it?



HESTER

The third one. Yes.



JANET

The plain one! Good heavens, it oughtn’t to be
allowed. The children will be little monsters.



MRS. CLOUSTON

So that’s why you were so long at church?



HESTER

Yes. I was praying that they might be happy.



JANET

Poor Hester!



MRS. DE MULLIN

Are you disappointed, dear?



HESTER

I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind,
mother.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Your father would never have given his consent.



HESTER

So Mr. Brown said.



JANET

The little _worm_.



MRS. DE MULLIN

My dear!



JANET

Well, mother, isn’t it too contemptible?



DE MULLIN

I’m bound to say Mr. Brown seems to have behaved
in a very fitting manner.



JANET

You think so, father?



DE MULLIN

Certainly. He saw what my objections would
be and recognized that they were reasonable.
Nothing could be more proper.



JANET

Well, father. I don’t know what you do want. Ten
minutes ago you were supposed to be wanting a
grandson to adopt. Here’s Hester going the right
way to provide one, and you don’t like that
either.



HESTER

What is all this about, father? What have you
all been discussing while I’ve been out?



MRS. DE MULLIN

It was nothing about you, Hester.



HESTER

I’m not sure of that, mother. Anyhow I should
like to hear what it was.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Hester, that is not at all a proper tone to use
in speaking to your mother.



HESTER

_(fiercely)_

Please don’t interfere, Aunt Harriet. I suppose
I can be trusted to speak to my mother properly
by this time.



MRS. CLOUSTON

You certainly ought to, my dear. You are quite
old enough.



HESTER

Very well then. Perhaps you will be good enough
not to dictate to me in future. What was it you
were discussing, father?



JANET

I’ll tell you, Hester. Father wanted to adopt
Johnny. He wanted me to come down here to live
altogether.



HESTER

Indeed? Well, father, understand, please, that
if Janet comes down here to live _I go!_



MRS. DE MULLIN


Hester!



HESTER

I will not live in the same house with Janet.
Nothing shall induce me. I would rather beg my
bread.



JANET

That settles it then. Thanks, Hester. I’m glad
you had the pluck to say that. You are right.
Quite right.



HESTER

I can do without _your_ approval, Janet.



JANET

_(recklessly)_

Of course you can. But you can have it all the
same. You never wanted me down here. You always
disapproved of my being sent for. I ought never
to have come. I wish I hadn’t come. My coming
has only done harm to Hester, as she knew it
would.



DE MULLIN

How harm?



JANET

Mr. Brown would have asked Hester to marry him
if I hadn’t come. He meant to; I’m sure of it.



MRS. DE MULLIN

But he said...



JANET

I know. But that was only an excuse. Young
men aren’t so considerate of their future
fathers-inlaw as all that nowadays. No. Mr.
Brown heard some story about me from Miss
Deanes. Or perhaps the Vicar put him on his
guard. Isn’t it so, Hester?

[_Hester nods._



MRS. DE MULLIN

But as your father would never have consented,
dear...



HESTER

_(slowly)_

Still, I’d rather he had asked me, mother.



JANET

Quite right, Hester! I’m glad you’ve got
some wholesome feminine vanity left in your
composition. And you’d have said “yes,” like a
sensible woman.



HESTER

Oh, you’re always sneering!



JANET

Yes. But I’m _going_, Hester, _going! That’s_
great thing! Keep your eyes fixed steadily on
that and you’ll be able to bear anything else.
That reminds me. _(Goes to door, l., and calls
loudly into the hall.)_ Johnny! Johnny!



MRS. CLOUSTON

Really, Janet!



JANET

Oh, I forgot. It’s not genteel to call into
the passage, is it? I ought to have rung. I
apologise, Aunt Harriet. _(Calls again)_ Johnny!



MRS. DE MULLIN

Why are you calling Johnny?



JANET

To tell him to put on his hat and coat, mother
dear. I’m going to the station.



DE MULLIN

You’re going to-night?



JANET

Yes, father, to-night. I’ve done harm enough
down here. I’m going away.



JOHNNY

_(entering l.)_

Do you want me, Mummie?



JANET

Yes. Run and put on your things and say goodbye
to Cook and Ellen and tell Robert to put in the
pony. Mother’s going back to London.



JOHNNY

Are we going now, Mummie?



JANET

_(nods)_

As fast as the train can carry us. And tell
Ellen to lock my trunk for me and give you the
key. Run along.

_[Exit Johnny, l._



DE MULLIN

Lock your trunk! But you’ve not _packed?_



JANET

Oh yes, I have. Everything’s packed, down to my
last shoelace. I don’t know how often I haven’t
packed and unpacked during the last five days.



MRS. DE MULLIN

_(astonished and hurt)_

You meant to leave us then, Janet? You’ve been
_wanting_ to leave us all the time?



JANET

Yes, mother. I’ve been wanting to leave you. I
can’t stay here any longer. Brendon stifles
me. It has too many ghosts. I suppose it’s your
ridiculous De Mullins.



DE MULLIN

Janet!



JANET

I know, father. That’s blasphemy, isn’t it? But
I can’t help it. I must go. I’ve been meaning to
tell you every day for the last four days, but
somehow I always put it off.



DE MULLIN

Understand me, Janet. If you leave this house
to-night you leave it for ever.



JANET

_(cheerfully)_

All right, father.



DE MULLIN

_(growing angrier)_

Understand, too, that if you leave it you are
never to hold any communication either with me
or with any one in it henceforward. You are cut
off from the family. I will never see you or
recognize you in any way, or speak to you again
as long as I live.



JANET

_(astonished)_

My dear father, why are you so angry? Is there
anything so dreadful in my wanting to live in
London instead of in the country?



DE MULLIN

_(getting more and more excited)_

Why am I angry! Why am I...!



MRS. DE MULLIN

Sh! Hugo! You mustn’t excite yourself. You know
the doctor said...



DE MULLIN

Be quiet, Jane! _(turning furiously to Janet)_
Why am I angry! You disgrace the family. You
have a child, that poor fatherless boy....



JANET

_(quietly)_

Oh come, I could have got along quite well
without a father if it comes to that. And so
could Hester.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet!



JANET

Well, mother, what has father ever done for
Hester or me except try and prevent us from
doing something we wanted to do? Hester wanted
to marry Mr. Brown. Father wouldn’t have allowed
her. He’s not genteel enough to marry a De
Mullin. I want to go back to my shop. Father
objects to that. That’s not genteel enough for a
De Mullin either. Well, hang all the De Mullins,
say I.



DE MULLIN

_(furious)_

I forbid you to speak of your family in that
way-of _my_ family! I forbid it! It is an
outrage. Your ancestors were honourable men and
pure women. They did their duty in the position
in which they were born, and handed on their
name untarnished to their children. Hitherto our
honour has been unsullied. You have sullied it.
You have brought shame upon your parents and
shame upon your son, and that shame you can
never wipe out. If you had in you a spark of
human feeling, if you were not worthless and
heartless you would blush to look me in the face
or your child in the face. But you are utterly
hardened. I ought never to have offered to
receive you back into this house. I ought never
to have consented to see you again. I was wrong.
I regret it. You are unfit for the society of
decent people. Go back to London. Take up the
wretched trade you practise there. It is what
you are fit for.



JANET

That’s exactly what I think, father. As we agree
about it why make such a fuss?



DE MULLIN

_(furious)_

Janet....



HESTER

Father, don’t argue with her. It’s no use.
_(solemnly)_ Leave her to God.



JANET

Hester, Hester, don’t deceive yourself. In your
heart you envy me my baby, and you know it.



HESTER

_(indignant)_

I do not.



JANET

You do. Time is running on with you, my dear.
You’re twenty-eight. Just the age that I was
when I met my lover. Yes, my lover. In a few
years you will be too old for love, too old to
have children. So soon it passeth away and we
are gone. Your best years are slipping by and
you are growing faded and cross and peevish.
Already the lines are hardening about your mouth
and the hollows coming under your eyes. You
will be an old woman before your time unless you
marry and have children. And what will you do
then? Keep a lap-dog, I suppose, or sit up at
night with a sick cockatoo like Miss Deanes.
Miss Deanes! Even she has a heart somewhere
about her. Do you imagine she wouldn’t
rather give it to her babies than snivel over
_poultry?_ No, Hester, make good use of your
youth, my dear. It won’t last always. And once
gone it is gone for ever. _(Hester bursts into
tears.)_ There, there, Hester! I’m sorry. I
oughtn’t to have spoken like that. It wasn’t
kind. Forgive me. _(Hester weep more and more
violently.)_ Hester, don’t cry like that. I
can’t bear to hear you. I was angry and said
more than I should. I didn’t mean to vex you.
Come, dear, you mustn’t give way like that or
you’ll make yourself ill. Dry your eyes and let
me see you smile. _(Caressing her. Hester, who
has begun by resisting her feebly, gradually
allows herself to be soothed.)_ That’s better!
My dear, what a sight you’ve made of yourself!
But all women are hideous when they’ve been
crying. It makes their noses red and that’s
dreadfully unbecoming. _(Hester sobs out a
laugh)_. No. You mustn’t begin to cry again or I
shall scold you. I shall, really.



HESTER

_(half laughing, half crying
hysterically)_

You seem to think every woman ought to behave as
shamefully as you did.



JANET

_(grimly)_

No, Hester. I don’t think that. To do as I did
needs pluck and brains--and five hundred pounds.
Everything most women haven’t got, poor things.
So they must marry or remain childless. You must
marry--the next curate. I suppose the Bulsteads
will buy Mr. Brown a living as he’s marrying the
plainest of the daughters. It’s the least they
can do. But that’s no reason why _I_ should
marry unless I choose.



MRS. CLOUSTON

Well, I’ve never heard of anything so
disgraceful. I thought Janet at least had the
grace to be ashamed of what she did!



JANET

_(genuinely astonished)_

Ashamed? Ashamed of wanting to have a child?
What on earth were women created for, Aunt
Harriet, if not to have children?



MRS. CLOUSTON To _marry_ and have children.



JANET

_(with relentless logic)_

My dear Aunt Harriet, women had children
thousands of years before marriage was invented.
I dare say they will go on doing so thousands of
years after it has ceased to exist.



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet!



JANET

Well, mother, that’s how I feel. And I believe
it’s how all wholesome women feel if they would
only acknowledge it. I _wanted_ to have a child.
I always did from the time when I got too old to
play with dolls. Not an adopted child or a child
of some one else’s, but a baby of my very own.
Of course I wanted to marry. That’s the ordinary
way a woman wants to be a mother nowadays,
I suppose. But time went on and nobody came
forward, and I saw myself getting old and my
chance slipping away. Then I met-never mind. And
I fell in love with him. Or perhaps I only
fell in love with love. I don’t know. It was
so splendid to find some one at last who really
cared for me as women should be cared for!
Not to talk to because I was clever or to play
tennis with because I was strong, but to kiss me
and to make love to me! Yes! To make love to me!



DE MULLIN

_(solemnly)_

Listen to me, my girl. You say that now, and I
dare say you believe it. But when you are older,
when Johnny is grown up, you will bitterly
repent having brought into the world a child who
can call no man father.



JANET

_(passionately)_

Never! Never! That I’m sure of. Whatever
happens, even if Johnny should come to hate me
for what I did, I shall always be glad to have
been his mother. At least I shall have lived.
These poor women who go through life listless
and dull, who have never felt the joys and the
pains a mother feels, how they would envy me if
they knew! If they knew! To know that a child is
your very own, is a part of you. That you have
faced sickness and pain and death itself for it.
That it is yours and nothing can take it from
you because no one can understand its wants as
you do. To feel it’s soft breath on your cheek,
to soothe it when it is fretful and still it
when it cries, that is motherhood and that is
glorious!

[_Johnny runs in by the door on the left. He is
obviously in the highest spirits at the thought
of going home._



JOHNNY

The trap is round, Mummie, and the luggage is
in.



JANET

That’s right. Good-bye, father. _(He does not
move)_ Say good-bye to your grandfather, Johnny.
You won’t see him again.

[_De Mullin kisses Johnny._



MRS. DE MULLIN

Janet!



JANET

No, mother. It’s best not. _(Kisses her)_ It
would only be painful for father. Good-bye, Aunt
Harriet. Good-bye, Hester.

[_Looks at Hester doubtfully. Hester rises, goes
to her slowly and kisses her._



HESTER

Good-bye. .

[_Exeunt Johnny and Janet by the door the
right._



DE MULLIN

_(his grey head bowed on his chest
as Mrs De Mullin timidly lays her hand on his
shoulder)_

The last of the De Mullins! The last of the De
Mullins!

_(The curtain falls)_









End of Project Gutenberg's The Last of The De Mullins, by St. John Hankin