WAITING FOR AN OMNIBUS

IN THE

LOWTHER ARCADE ON A RAINY DAY.


A Farce,

IN ONE ACT.


BY

JOHN MADDISON MORTON,

_(Member of the Dramatic Authors’ Society),_


AUTHOR OF

_Away with Melancholy, From Village to Court, Whitebait at Greenwich,
To Paris and Back for Five Pounds, The Woman I Adore, A Capital Match,
The Two Bonnycastles, Who Stole the Pocket-book, Your Life’s in Danger,
The Midnight Watch, Going to the Derby, Box and Cox, Done on Both
Sides, Poor Pillicoddy, Young England, The King and I, My Wife’s Second
Floor, Double-Bedded Room, Wedding Breakfast, The Milliners’ Holiday,
The Irish Tiger, Who’s the Composer, Who do they take me for? The Attic
Story, Brother Ben, Who’s my Husband? Slasher and Crasher, Old Honesty,
&c._


THOMAS HAILES LACY,

WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND,

LONDON.




_First Performed at the Royal Adelphi Theatre, on Monday, June 26th,
1854._


_Characters._

  JOHN HORATIO O’WALKER  ...  MR. LEIGH MURRAY.
  MR. BARBICAN BROWN     ...  MR. PAUL BEDFORD.
  SCHNIPPS (_a Tailor_)  ...  MR. GARDEN.
  BEADLE                 ...  MR. J. SAUNDERS
  MRS. JELLICOE          ...  MISS CUTHBERT.
  FANNY                  ...  MISS EMMA HARDING.
  MISS PATTY PECKOVER    ...  MISS FANNY MASKELL.

    _Pedestrians, &c._


_Time in Representation—50 minutes._


_Costumes._

O’WALKER. Black frock coat, white trousers, white hat.

BROWN. Brown coat, nankeen trousers.

SCHNIPPS. Eccentric dress.

BEADLE. Brown suit with gold binding.

MRS. JELLICOE. Silk dress, velvet mantle and bonnet.

FANNY. Walking dress.

PATTY. Blue muslin dress, red scarf, and white bonnet.




WAITING FOR AN OMNIBUS.


SCENE.—_Interior of the Lowther Arcade. The Strand Entrance supposed to
be at L. side; shops and stalls with goods exposed running across at
back of stage; PEDESTRIANS, male and female children walking to and fro
at L., a number of people standing, others make their way in with
umbrellas up, which they put down and join the PROMENADERS; the BEADLE
of the arcade occasionally seen; heavy rain heard._

MRS. J. (_without, L._) Now, gentlemen, stand aside—don’t quite block
up the way if you please! (_forces her way through crowd, L., followed
by FANNY; they have their parasols up, which they immediately put
down_) Mercy on us! here’s a day! this is something like rain.

FANNY. (L.) Yes, mamma, very like it indeed.

MRS. JELLICOE. (R.) However, now we are safe under cover, my dear,
suppose we see what we’ve got to do to-day. First, there’s the
upholsterer’s; then the milliner’s; then the jeweller’s; then the
printer’s——

FANNY. The printer’s—what for?

MRS. J. What for! why, to order the wedding cards to be sure!

FANNY. Lor, mamma!

MRS. J. (_imitating_) Lor, mamma! just as if you’re not ready to jump
out of your wits for joy all the time! I’m sure when I was engaged to
your papa, I was so happy, I did nothing but cry all day long for weeks
together: but, perhaps I was more in love with the late lamented
Jellicoe, than you are with Mr. O’Walker?

FANNY. I like Mr. O’Walker very well, mamma; he’s agreeable enough—very
amusing—very attentive—sufficiently good-looking——

MRS. J. And very genteel! And then, he’s very well to do in the world;
in short, Fanny, it’s a very desirable match for you in every respect;
and if we can only persuade cousin Brown to be of the same opinion——

FANNY. Surely, mamma, I can get married without the consent of this
cousin Brown that you are always talking about?

MRS. J. Of course you can, my dear; but Barbican Brown is a rich old
bachelor, and your godfather into the bargain—I shall never forget him
on the memorable occasion of your christening—the tender yet
half-reproachful tone in which he said “don’t kick up such a row, you
little brat,” as you lay squalling in his arms; and I must say, my
dear, you did misbehave yourself in a variety of ways.

FANNY. Well, this godpapa of mine certainly must have taken a very
violent interest in me indeed, considering that he has never seen me
since.

MRS. J. Simply because your poor papa went out of business shortly
after and settled at Brentford, and cousin Barbican went into business
and settled in London; we really must go over to his little place at
Holloway this evening, we shall be sure to catch him at home, and then
we’ll see if between us we can’t coax him to come down with something
handsome on your wedding day. (_violent rain heard_) Dear, dear, I
declare it rains harder than ever; I really think, Fanny, we had better
put off our shopping and our intended visit to cousin Barbican till
to-morrow, and get into a Brentford omnibus and go home at once.

FANNY. Very well, mamma, but do let us take one stroll up and down the
Arcade first. I suppose there’s no harm in it?

MRS. J. Harm! Do you suppose I should be here if everything wasn’t
perfectly respectable? For goodness’ sake put that silly notion out of
your head—and take care of your pockets.

  _MRS. JELLICOE and FANNY lounge out at R., looking at shops as they
  exeunt; violent rain again heard and noise of voices L., in dispute._

VOICE. (_outside_) Now then—where are you pushing?

O’WALKER. (_without_) I’m pushing my way into the Arcade—at least, I am
trying to do it!

  _O’WALKER, with a green cotton umbrella over his head, forces his way
  through CROWD, L._

O’WALKER. Isn’t it a remarkable fact, that people no sooner get under
cover out of the rain than they immediately congregate in a dense mass
to prevent other people getting under cover out of the rain—I don’t
know why they should, but they do! Here’s a day! never mind, I’ve no
doubt the country wants rain, the turnips especially: somehow or other,
turnips always seem to want rain—I don’t know why they should, but they
do! and if they do, all I can say is, they’ve got it—consequently, it’s
all for the best; and although my new twelve-and-ninepenny boots do
feel for all the world like a couple of wet sponges, I think of the
agricultural interest and am silent.

  _The BEADLE here approaches, and touching his hat to O’WALKER, points
  to his open umbrella, and then walks on._

O’WALKER. (_astonished_) Now, that man evidently means something; he
wouldn’t touch his hat to me for nothing—I don’t know why he shouldn’t,
but he wouldn’t!

  _BEADLE again approaches O’WALKER, R., points to his open umbrella,
  smiles, touches his hat, and about to retire._

O’WALKER. (_beckons to him_) My good friend, perhaps I ought to know
you? you may have been the cherished companion of my childhood, or the
friend of my bosom in after years? if so, I’m ashamed to say I’ve
forgotten you—now, what is it?

BEADLE. Umbrella, sir!

O’WALKER. Well?

BEADLE. Don’t rain here, sir—under cover, sir—needn’t keep it up, sir!

O’WALKER. (_suddenly_) Of course—ha! ha! ha! As you say, it doesn’t
rain here—I don’t know why it shouldn’t, but it doesn’t! I’m obliged to
you. (_shutting up his umbrella_) The fact is, I’ve so much to think of
I really haven’t time to think of anything. In the first place, I’m
going to be married—that’s a trifle to begin with, isn’t it? Are you
married? (_BEADLE nods_) And how do you like it? Is matrimony an
article you approve of in the long run? In short—do you recommend it?

BEADLE. (_in a low tone and with a significant wink_) Try it!

  _Exit, L._

O’WALKER. He says “try it!” therefore, he does recommend it! Not that I
exactly liked the tone in which he said “try it!” I mean to try it. I
shouldn’t like to know who wouldn’t with such a charming little wife as
I’m going to have, a sweet unsophisticated creature from the peaceful
and picturesque village of Brentford, with health on her cheek,
innocence in her heart, and £2,000 in her pocket. Now that £2,000,
added to what I shall bring, will make a total of £2,000; for I don’t
mean to say a word about the ninety-seven pounds ten, left me last week
by my uncle Samuel—no, that ninety-seven ten I consider the property of
my creditors; I gave it yesterday morning to my friend Dibbs to invest
in the three per cents, with the full determination of paying my debts
with the interest. I made the calculation last night, and find that in
thirty-seven years I shan’t owe one shilling in the world: if that
isn’t a moral satisfaction for a man, I don’t know what is! Dear me!
now I think of it, I went out in such a hurry this morning that I
hadn’t time to read my letters. (_taking letters out of his pocket and
opening them_) Oh, from Jacob Jones, Dibbs’ head clerk, to tell me he’s
invested my ninety-seven ten, I suppose! Holloa—what’s this? (_reads_)
“Sorry to say Dibbs is done up”— Dear me! how very sudden—poor Dibbs.
(_reading again_) “and means to make a bolt of it to-morrow”— That’s
to-day! well, I can’t blame Dibbs if he does; perhaps it’s the best
thing Dibbs can do. (_reads_) “with all the money he can lay his hands
on”— Of course, every man has a right to do what he likes with his own,
and so has Dibbs. (_reads_) “all the money he can lay his hands
on—yours included”— Mine! my ninety-seven ten! that scoundrel Dibbs!
(_reading again hurriedly_) “he means to be off by the rail”— Jacob’s a
clever fellow! (_reads_) “but I don’t know which”— Jacob’s an ass!
(_reads_) “but this I do know, that if you want to get your money
back”— Want my ninety-seven ten? Of course I do! “be at his house in
Arabella Row, Pimlico, before three o’clock and you’ll nab him.” Before
three o’clock— (_hastily pulls out watch_) come, I’ve plenty of time,
that’s one comfort—I’ll jump into a cab at once, drive to— Stop—I’ve
only got a fourpenny-piece in my pocket, and I don’t suppose any cabman
would take me two miles and a half for that—I have it, I’ll jump into a
Pimlirow Omnibus—get down at the corner of Arabellaco, and come down
upon Dibbs like a thunderbolt. (_looking out_) Ah! yes—there’s an
omnibus! here! stop! conductor!

  _Puts up his umbrella and forces his way through CROWD at L.—and then
  heard outside._

Here! Pimlico! stop! stop!

  _Re-enter MRS. JELLICOE and FANNY from R._

MRS. J. Rain or not, we must go now, my dear; indeed we must!

O’WALKER. (_outside_) Now then, if you’ll allow me.

  _Re-enters, with his umbrella up._

Full, of course; and, strange to say, there wasn’t a lady would get
outside to accommodate me. They positively refused, every one of them—I
don’t know why they should, but they did!

FANNY. (_seeing him_) Why, I do declare, mamma, there’s Mr. O’Walker!

MRS. J. So it is! How fortunate, to be sure! My dear Mr. O’Walker!

O’WALKER. Mrs. Jellicoe! Miss Fanny, too! (_passing his umbrella, which
is still open, from one hand to the other as he shakes hands with
them_) I was that moment thinking of you—I was indeed, my dear Mrs.
Pimlico—I mean Jellicoe. (_aside_) That ruffian Dibbs! (_aloud_) And
how’s my Arabella—I mean my Fanny? (_aside, and looking at his watch_)
A quarter to two.

MRS. J. Here’s a dreadful day, Mr. O’Walker; but it can’t be helped.

O’WALKER. No—I believe the only thing to be done is, what they do in
Spain when it rains.

MRS. J. And what’s that?

O’WALKER. Why, they let it rain!—I don’t know why they should, but they
do!

MRS. J. Ha, ha, ha!—you’re a funny creature! besides, as the old joke
says, it suits the ducks.

O’WALKER. Not mine! (_showing his splashed trousers_)

FANNY. Ha! ha!

O’WALKER. Don’t laugh, Miss Fanny; ducks are no joke I can tell you,
and so you’ll find when the washing bills come in—after we are married;
by-the-bye, suppose we wash at home? I appeal to you, Mrs.
Jellicoe—you’re a woman of experience in household matters, you’ve been
washed by other people, and you’ve washed yourself—now which do you
recommend?

MRS. J. You’ll find washing at home a great nuisance.

O’WALKER. Perhaps; but I’d put up with a great deal for two pair of
ducks a-week.

MRS. J. Suppose we get the home first? By-the-bye, we’ve just seen such
a love of a loo table— (_taking O’WALKER’S arm_) haven’t we, Fanny?

O’WALKER. Have you though?

FANNY. Yes, John Horatio, and such a darling sideboard. (_taking_
O’WALKER’S _arm_)

O’WALKER. You don’t say so; and I’ve got my eye on such a duck of a
bedstead.

MRS. J. Fie, Mr. O’Walker.

  _Here the BEADLE again comes in, L., goes up to O’WALKER, points to
  his open umbrella, smiles, touches his hat, and retires._

O’WALKER. (_suddenly recollecting and shutting up his umbrella_) Thank
you!

MRS. J. Now, my dear Mr. O’Walker, let’s talk of business. Have you
seen a house that you think you would like?

O’WALKER. Fifty! there isn’t a house in Grosvenor Square that I
shouldn’t like amazingly!

MRS. J. Now let’s talk seriously, if you please. Of course, when a man
marries, he must expect to lay out a little money at starting.

O’WALKER. I perfectly agree with you, and what’s more, I don’t care how
little.

MRS. J. In short, as the late lamented Jellicoe would have said, you
must come down with the dibbs.

O’WALKER. (_suddenly_) Dibbs! (_pulling out his watch and looking at
it, then looking suddenly off at L._) There goes one!—here!—stop! stop!

  _Puts up his umbrella and runs out, L.—noise of voices in dispute
  outside as before._

O’WALKER. (_without_) Stop! Conductor!

MRS. J. Why what can be the matter with Mr. O’Walker?

FANNY. How very odd!

O’WALKER. (_without_) Will you allow me? Thank you!

  _Re-enters, L., with his umbrella up._

Full again! the Conductor wanted me to get on the roof of his vehicle
and sit upon a sort of knife board—I don’t know why I shouldn’t, but I
wouldn’t! (_to MRS. J._) My dear Mrs. Jellicoe, I beg ten thousand
pardons—but I thought I saw a friend pass—a friend I haven’t seen
since—since I saw him last—but as you were very properly observing just
now—by-the-bye, what were you very properly observing just now?

MRS. J. I was going to say that you ought to take a small house,
furnish it comfortably, and then, with Fanny’s little fortune and your
own income—by-the-way, I think you said your income was about——

O’WALKER. Yes—more or less—but that’s the average.

  _Here BEADLE comes in again, L., goes up to O’WALKER, points to his
  umbrella, touches his hat, and again retires; O’WALKER hastily puts
  down his umbrella._

MRS. J. (_to BEADLE_) Worthy man, would you be so kind as to stop the
first Brentford omnibus?

BEADLE. Certainly, ma’am.

  _Goes out at L._

MRS. J. (L.) Oh, Mr. O’Walker, when you were a traveller to a wholesale
house in the oil and varnish line, and used to come down to Brentford
once a week for orders, little did I think you would ever be my
son-in-law. And how does the business get on, eh?

O’WALKER. (C.) My dear Mrs. Jellicoe, you don’t imagine I’m the sort of
man to settle down in oil and varnish all my life? Bless you, I cut it
a long time ago.

MRS. J. Indeed! And what are you doing now?

O’WALKER. Why the fact is, I’ve tried my hand at a good many things: I
thought it prudent not to make too great a dash at starting, so I began
by doing a trifle in the coal and potatoe line—then I took an early
breakfast house—then I started a penny publication——

MRS. J. A weekly one?

O’WALKER. Yes, so weakly that it didn’t live above a fortnight. At
last, I hit upon a brilliant idea—what do you think it was? I turned
doctor.

MRS. J. A doctor? Then I suppose you walked the hospitals, as they call
it?

O’WALKER. Not all of ’em; I walked through Saint Thomas’s one day with
a friend of mine.

FANNY. (R.) Oh, then you’re not a member of the profession.

O’WALKER. Oh no, my dear, I’m not one of your regular _Materiars
Medicars_—I’m what ignorant and prejudiced people call a quack; but I
don’t care what they call me as long as my boluses go down.

MRS. J. Boluses!

O’WALKER. Yes—O’Walker’s Beneficial Bolus! Sold in boxes at thirteen
pence halfpenny, two-and-threepence, four-and-sixpence, and nine
shillings—this is a nine shilling one. (_pulling a very large pill box
out of his pocket_)

MRS. J. Good gracious! And how did you come to think of it?

O’WALKER. By study, Mrs. Jellicoe—by intense study. I shut myself up in
my room for three months, and the result of that confinement was a
bolus.

MRS. J. And what do they cure?

O’WALKER. Everything—if you only take plenty of ’em! I used to make ’em
up myself at starting, but so eagerly were they swallowed that now I’ve
got three men and a boy up to their elbows in boluses all day long.
Now, I’ll explain my system: these boluses are so composed that the
more you take of ’em the worse you get—still you persevere—and when
you’re as ill as you can be you leave ’em off, and from that moment you
begin to get well; I don’t know why you should, but you do—that’s my
system! But enough of business—now for pleasure. When is the happy day
to be? Fanny, my fond one, my fair one, when will it be your happy lot
to call me yours?

FANNY. (R.) Ask mamma!

MRS. J. Come and dine with us to-morrow, Mr. O’Walker, and we will talk
about it. (_suddenly and solemnly_) I hope your moral character will
bear the strictest scrutiny, Mr. O’Walker. You say you have no debts?

O’WALKER. (_proudly_) If you doubt my word, Mrs. Jellicoe, I refer you
to my milkman.

FANNY. (_tenderly_) And I’m the only woman you ever loved?

O’WALKER. The only one—except my mother.

  _BEADLE appears, L._

BEADLE. (L.) The Brentford ’bus, ladies!

MRS. J. Come along, Fanny. We shall see you to-morrow, Mr. O’Walker.
Now, Fanny.

  _O’WALKER opens his umbrella, and escorts the LADIES off, L._

BEADLE. (_picking up reticule which MRS. JELLICOE has let fall_)
Holloa, the old lady has dropped her _ridicule_, and there goes the
’bus!

  _Re-enter O’WALKER, L., with his umbrella up._

O’WALKER. Ha, ha, ha! it’s too bad—but I can’t help laughing.

BEADLE. (_as before—pointing to O’WALKER’S umbrella, touching his hat,
&c.; O’WALKER puts umbrella down_) Please, sir, one of the ladies dropt
this article—perhaps you’ll take care of it, sir?

O’WALKER. (_taking the reticule_) Of course—here! (_feels in his
pocket—then puts his hand into the reticule, takes out purse, and gives
the BEADLE money_) I always make a point of rewarding honesty—there’s
half-a crown for you! (_puts purse in his pocket—BEADLE touches his
hat, and retires_) As I said before, I can’t help laughing; that poor
innocent little Fanny, too, flattering herself she’s the only woman I
ever loved. If she could only see a catalogue of my tender attachments,
she’d find herself about the hundred and sixteenth on the list—that
dear Patty Peckover, for instance. I do believe I should have married
that Patty Peckover if she hadn’t had so many cousins in the Life
Guards; but she was a good-hearted soul—she never would have treated me
as Miss Amelia Jones has done. When I think of the number of cubas I’ve
smoked in that woman’s little back parlour, and the bill I owe that
woman for those cubas, that woman’s ingratitude quite shocks me! Here’s
a letter she wrote me yesterday. (_taking out letter and reading_)
“Perfidious monster”—that’s so like Amelia Jones, that is—“you’re going
to be married, are you? Don’t deny it, hideous wretch that you are;”
that’s Amelia Jones all over, that is—(_reading_)—“but I’ll be
revenged: listen—I have kept your letters, miscreant!” that’s a
favourite expression of Amelia Jones’s, that is—(_reading_)—“and
to-morrow they shall be in the hands of your intended. So tremble,
viper! and believe me to remain as usual—your fond and
affectionate—Amelia.” Now any one would imagine that Amelia Jones was
an exceedingly ill-used young woman—but it’s no such thing. I went to
her shop in Little Windmill Street this evening, prepared to offer her
a shilling a piece for my letters, she wasn’t at home—so I went into
her little back parlour, and there, lying open upon the table, and
staring me in the face, was this letter (_showing letter_)—beginning
with “Loveliest of Amelias,” and winding up with “Your fondest of
Browns.” Now here’s a woman who’s got a Brown—a mysterious Brown—a
Brown who by his own account is the “fondest of Browns,” and yet this
woman presumes to call me a viper. Such is the sex—I grieve to say, but
such is the sex. (_during the above he has been occasionally cracking
nuts, which he takes out of MRS. JELLICOE’S reticule—very suddenly_)
Goodness gracious, I forgot Dibbs! (_pulling out his watch_) A quarter
to two! Why it was a quarter to two the last time I looked. (_holding
the watch to his ear_) It’s stopped—that’s pleasant; what’s to be done
now? Ah, there goes an omnibus. Here! Stop! Conductor—Pimlico——

  _Puts up his umbrella, and runs out at L., nearly upsetting MR.
  BARBICAN BROWN, who enters at the same time._

BROWN. (_who is without an overcoat or umbrella, has a pair of nankeen
trowsers on, and is drenched with rain_) I am not aware that I ever saw
a _drownded_ rat, but I should say that the appearance of that animal
when in that state must closely resemble mine! It’s a singular fact,
but this morning I said to myself as I was dressing myself, “Barbican
Brown,” said I, “thirty years’ experience tells you that as sure as you
put on nankeens, so sure is it to rain;” nevertheless, nankeens I did
put on—I sally out—before I get to the end of the street down comes a
shower—nankeens soaked! I go into a pastrycook’s, call for a basin of
soup, dry my nankeens at the fire, sally out again, down comes another
shower—nankeens soaked again; go into another pastrycook’s, another
basin of soup, another shower—nankeens soaked again! Look at me now,
I’ve just swallowed my thirteenth basin of soup, dried my nankeens for
the thirteenth time—I sally out, down comes the fourteenth shower, and,
as you see, nankeens soaked again!

  _Re-enter O’WALKER hurriedly, his umbrella up—he is closely followed
  by SCHNIPPS, L._

SCHNIPPS. (_following O’WALKER and trying to look into his face, who
continually thwarts him by concealing his face by means of his open
umbrella_) I’m sure I know de shentleman. (_in a strong German accent
and trying to get a peep at O’WALKER, who again thwarts him with his
umbrella_)

O’WALKER. (_R., aside_) My tailor—the devil!

SCHNIPPS. (L.) You may hide your vace as much as you like, Mr.
O’Valker—I can swear to de umprella, ha, ha!

O’WALKER. (_putting down umbrella_) Ah, Schnipps, my boy! how are you?
And how’s Mrs. Schnipps and the little Schnipps? I hope they’re all
salubrious—I don’t know why I should, but I do!

SCHNIPPS. They’re very boorly—de tree leetlest is very bad with de
weasels.

O’WALKER. Oh, they’re bad with the weazles, are they? I’ll tell you how
to get rid of the weazles—catch ’em asleep, ah, ah!

BROWN. (_who is standing apart, L. C., and listening_) Ha, ha! good,
good, very good! (_nodding approvingly at O’WALKER, who bows in
return_)

SCHNIPPS. De doctor says I must take dem in de country.

O’WALKER. The weazles?

SCHNIPPS. No—de leetle ones—to give dem a leetle fresh hair.

O’WALKER. A little fresh hair, eh? then I’d advise you to go with them.
(_pointing to SCHNIPPS’S bald head_)

BROWN. (_as before_) Good, good, good again! (_nods approvingly to
O’WALKER, who again bows_)

SCHNIPPS. And where’s de money to come from? Gustamers won’t pay—it’s
no use at all sending in their pills.

O’WALKER. Then why don’t you try draughts?

BROWN. (_as before_) Good, good, good again! (_same play_)

SCHNIPPS. No—I will try de law! I will make dem pay, and yourself among
de number—yes, Mr. O’Valker.

O’WALKER. Now there’s gratitude! Didn’t you ask me for my custom?

SCHNIPPS. Ya!

O’WALKER. Did you ask me what my custom was?

SCHNIPPS. No.

O’WALKER. Then you ought, and I should have told you my custom was not
to pay—I don’t know why I shouldn’t, but I don’t!

BROWN. (_as before_) Good, good, good again! (_same play_)

SCHNIPPS. We will see that, ha, ha! when you find yourself in
brison—perhaps you will laugh on de oder side of your vace—but I can’t
stop here all day—I’ve got to go after anoder bad gustomer at Bimligo.

O’WALKER. (_suddenly_) Pimlico!—I quite forgot Dibbs! Ah!—(_looking
out_) there goes an omnibus! here! conductor! stop! stop!

  _Opening his umbrella and pushing his way out, L., followed by
  SCHNIPPS, shouting_ “Mr. O’Valker! Mr. O’Valker!”

BROWN. I feel an intense desire to cultivate that gentleman’s
acquaintance; in short, so intense is my desire to cultivate that
gentleman’s acquaintance, that I’ll instantly run after him! No—yes! I
will, though I know what the result will be, namely, another shower,
and nankeens soaked again. (_running towards L., again meets O’WALKER,
who again nearly upsets him_)

O’WALKER. (L.) Full again! it’s a most extraordinary thing! (_twirling
his umbrella round and sprinkling the wet over BROWN, who tries to
advance towards him_) I repeat It’s a most extraordinary thing!
(_twirling umbrella and sprinkling BROWN again, who is advancing on the
other side of him_) It really seems as if the entire population of the
metropolis was animated by a frantic desire to go to Pimlico to-day!

BROWN. (_R., to O’WALKER_) Sir, you have afforded me considerable
amusement, and I thank you—I’d embrace you, only I might give you cold,
being, as you see, wet through.

O’WALKER (L.) I see you are, those nankeens of yours are the most
uncomfortable looking things I ever saw, however, rather than
disappoint you I’ll wait till you’re dry—I don’t know why I should—but
I will.

BROWN. (R.) That tailor of yours, sir, hadn’t the ghost of a chance
with you—you didn’t leave him a leg to stand on.

O’WALKER. No, I flatter myself I rather cooked his goose.

BROWN. Good, good, good again: if you will insist upon making yourself
so damned agreeable, I shall be obliged to embrace you before I _am_
dry. I am the last man in the world to intrude upon any one, but if
upon emerging into yonder crowded thoroughfare, our paths happen to lay
in the same direction, we will walk together, and by the time we part,
as I shall probably be dry, I can embrace you.

O’WALKER. (_impatiently_) Oh! confound it—there—(_flinging his arms
round BROWN_) and now I’m off to Pimlico—what say you?

BROWN. I say wherever you go—Brown goes too. (_taking O’WALKER’S arm_)

O’WALKER. Brown!

BROWN. Brown! Barbican Brown! but perhaps you’ll have no objection to
my taking Little Windmill Street in my way?

O’WALKER. (_aside_) Brown—Little Windmill Street!

BROWN. Just to buy a few cubas. (_taking out cigar case_)

O’WALKER. (_aside_) Brown—Little Windmill Street—cubas. (_snatches
cigar case out of BROWN’S hand—takes out a cuba and examines it,
aside_) This is one of Amelia Jones’s cubas—I’ll swear to it—he’s a
Brown—he says he’s a Brown, and if a Brown, why not the “fondest of
Brown’s,” if I could only make him the means of getting those infernal
letters of mine back—I have it. (_aloud and suddenly seizing BROWN’S
hand_) Brown, it is my painful duty instantly to plunge a dagger into
your manly bosom. (_BROWN starts_) Don’t be alarmed, I speak
figuratively—in other words—(_in a loud and mysterious whisper_) go
elsewhere for your cubas.

BROWN. Ah!

O’WALKER. (_aside_) It _is_ the fondest of Brown’s. (_aloud in the same
low earnest tone_) Brown, you are deceived.

BROWN. What do you mean?

O’WALKER. I mean that Amelia Jones——

BROWN. Hush!

O’WALKER. I repeat, that Amelia Jones.

BROWN. Hush! (_looking about him and then to O’WALKER_) don’t speak so
loud—I’m afraid you’ll call me a sad dog when I unfold my tale—I shan’t
be offended if you do—for I know I’m a shocking good-for-nothing
rascal, but I can’t help it—that’s the melancholy part of it—I can’t
help it. Listen! As I was sauntering about the West End one evening
last week, I suddenly found that I had lost my way, and seeing a
gentleman in a Highland dress standing outside the door of a
tobacconist’s shop, in the act of taking a pinch of snuff, I accosted
him and civilly asked him where I was; he didn’t think proper to reply,
which I inferred from being a Highlander he didn’t understand
English—consequently, I entered the shop, and there I beheld a sweet
creature—I bought a cigar, and though I had never smoked before in all
my life, I lighted it—I positively lighted it, and then I smoked and
chatted, and chatted and smoked, till, as it was getting _rather_ late,
and _I_ was getting very poorly, I took my leave of the fair creature
and went home. I’m ashamed to say I was there again, the next day, and
the next day, and the day after that; and as every pound of cigars I
bought of her seemed to ingratiate me more and more in her good
opinion, in less than a week I found I had laid in a sufficient stock
to open a tobacconist’s shop of my own—in fact I became so
fascinated—so charmed—so—so——

O’WALKER. Spooney!

BROWN. Exactly—so spooney—that I was on the point of asking her to
become Mrs. Brown, when I suddenly recollected that I was engaged to
another.

O’WALKER. Engaged to another?

BROWN. Hush! A woman who can’t live without seeing me twice a day and
that I haven’t been near for a week.

O’WALKER. Then go to her, Brown, and forget the perfidious Amelia.
She’s made a fool of you, Brown, nobody can look at you and doubt it.

BROWN. How?

O’WALKER. Simply because she’s engaged to be married. I happen to know
the fact, because the gentleman is the friend of an intimate friend of
a friend of mine, I don’t know why he should be, but he is.

BROWN. Who is he? Tell me his odious name and place of abode, in order
that I may instantly repair thither and sweep him off the surface of
the earth.

O’WALKER. I can’t tell you his odious name—but his letters _can_, and
Amelia Jones has got half a bushel of ’em at least—so go to her at
once—ask for a few pounds of her best havannahs—she’ll open a
particular drawer—then you’ll see the letters.

BROWN. How do you know?

O’WALKER. Eh! Why—because the friend of my friend’s intimate friend
told him so and he told me; so as I said before there you’ll see the
letters—you’ll pounce down upon them, carry them off in triumph—join me
here,—and then we’ll decide upon future operations.

BROWN. That’s settled already—the friend of your friend’s intimate
friend—dies—and now I’m off. (_starting towards L._) Stop—(_feeling his
clothes_) dry as a bone—so come to my arms. (_embraces O’WALKER and
runs off L._)

O’WALKER. There he goes, what an advantage a man of his protuberant
proportions has in a crowd to be sure! I shall count every minute till
he comes back with the letters. What a state of nervous agitation I’m
in to be sure. Goodness gracious! Dibbs! I quite forgot Dibbs. Ah,
there’s an omnibus! here! conductor! stop! (_opening his umbrella and
running towards L. and pushing against PATTY PECKOVER who enters with
her parasol up and a pair of clogs in her hand_)

PATTY. (R.) Well, I’m sure, sir,—eh? Yes. I do declare it’s O’Walker.
(_laying hold of O’WALKER by the tail of his coat and pulling him
back_)

O’WALKER. (_L. without looking at her and endeavouring to make his way
out_) I’ll speak to you presently, ma’am—here! conductor! stop!
(_flourishing his umbrella_) Gone, of course—and this is your doing,
ma’am? (_turning upon PATTY_) Eh—no—yes—it is—Patty Peckover, and more
bewitching than ever.

PATTY. O’Walker! but no familiarity if you please, I’m a married woman.

O’WALKER. Married!

PATTY. Yes! at least I’m as bad—I mean as good as married.

O’WALKER. Oh—to one of your numerous cousins in the Life Guards I
suppose?

PATTY. That’s no affair of yours, sir,—when you behaved like a brute
to me—yes, Mr. O’Walker, brute’s the word—you didn’t imagine I was
going to remain in a state of single blessedness all my life.

O’WALKER. And yet you swore you would.

PATTY. And so I did—for a whole fortnight, and then out of spite I
vowed I’d marry the first man that asked me—I shouldn’t have cared who,
if he’d been a baron or even a duke I’d have had him!

O’WALKER. And who is the happy man? What’s his name?

PATTY. B. B.

O’WALKER. B. B.

PATTY. Yes—I shan’t tell you any more, except that he’s made his
fortune in the soap line, and says I’m absolute perfection.

O’WALKER. The soft soap line evidently. Patty, I congratulate you on
your B. B., and you may as well congratulate me.—I’m going to be
married.

PATTY. You! You who vowed you could never love any woman but me!

O’WALKER. No, more I did, _for a whole fortnight?_

PATTY. Well, I can’t stand chattering here any longer—I must go and
look after my intended.

O’WALKER. By all means; we’ll go and look after your intended.
(_opening his umbrella and offering PATTY his arm_) Come along, Patty.

PATTY. Certainly not, Mr. O’Walker. B. B.’s so dreadfully jealous, he’d
do you some frightful injury to a certainty; that’s one reason—the
second is——

O’WALKER. Never mind the second, the first is perfectly satisfactory:
though we may be friends, we’re no longer sweethearts.

PATTY. Sweethearts, Mr. O’Walker! (_drawing herself up_)

O’WALKER. Ah! those were happy days. Greenwich in the morning——

PATTY. Greenwich, Mr. O’Walker! (_horrified_)

O’WALKER. Vauxhall in the evening——

PATTY. Vauxhall, Mr. O’Walker! (_horrified_)

O’WALKER. And then the polka—the delicious polka! (_polking with his
umbrella. Band plays a polka L._)

PATTY. The polka, Mr. O’Walker, just as if _I_ ever—— (_looking at
O’WALKER dancing and beginning to move her feet about suddenly_) That’s
all wrong—bless the man, you never could do it right. (_snatches
umbrella from O’WALKER and flings it away—dances the polka with
O’WALKER, till seeing BEADLE who appears L. she escapes from O’WALKER
and runs off, R._)

O’WALKER. (_suddenly_) Good gracious! Dibbs! I quite forgot that
scoundrel Dibbs. (_snatches up his umbrella—opens it—starts off towards
L. and runs up against BROWN who enters, L._)

BROWN. (_advancing to the front and showing his clothes wet through_)
Soaked again!

O’WALKER. Well, the letters!

BROWN. I’ve got ’em; they cost me a pound of cigars, but that’s not
worth thinking about. (_showing a packet of cigars_)

O’WALKER. Certainly not. (_taking cigars_) Don’t think of ’em again.

BROWN. I look upon that as money well laid out.

O’WALKER. Decidedly well laid out! (_putting the cigars into his blue
bag_) Now for the letters.

BROWN. (_producing letters tied up_) Here they are. To my surprise she
gave them up without the slightest hesitation, and said she was very
much obliged to me for taking the rubbish away.

O’WALKER. Rubbish! Ha, ha! (_forcing a laugh_)

BROWN. Yes; it seems she has been for some time past pestered with
letters from a contemptible fellow with the vulgar name of O’Walker.

O’WALKER. Ha, ha, ha! (_aside_) This is pleasant!

BROWN. Yes; he signs himself “John Horatio O’Walker,” and she requested
me as a particular favour to find Walker out at once, and give Walker a
horsewhipping on her account as well as my own.

O’WALKER. Ah, ah, ah! (_aside_) This is remarkably agreeable.

BROWN. I said I would, and so I will. Take me to him. I’m sorry for
your friend’s intimate friend’s friend, but I’ve a duty to perform; and
that duty, as I said before, is instantly to sweep O’Walker off the
surface of the earth! So come along.

  _Enter MRS. JELLICOE, L., with BEADLE following_.

MRS. J. (_as she enters_) I’m sure I must have dropped it here. It’s a
green reticule, with sixteen shillings and fourpence halfpenny in it,
besides a pair of spectacles, two bunches of keys, a packet of
envelopes, two buns, a silver thimble, six Queen’s heads, a bill of the
play, and half a pint of nuts.

BEADLE. All right, ma’am—I gave it to that gentleman. (_points to
O’WALKER_)

MRS. J. Ah! still here, Mr.——

O’WALKER. (_very quickly and interrupting her_) Yes—yes. (_aside to
her_) Don’t mention my name—you see that portly individual there—
(_pointing to BROWN, who is standing with his back towards them_)
Insane! sad case!—in early life fell in love with the Baron’s fair
daughter, you’ve heard of her—she deceived him and married Walker, the
twopenny postman, you’ve heard of him—it turned his brain—quiet as a
lamb till he hears “Walker”—then raving mad in a moment!—the chances
are, he’d murder me on the spot, and you too—I don’t know why he
should, but he would!

MRS. J. Lud a mercy! (_looking again at BROWN_) Eh? can it be? no—yes
it is— (_to O’WALKER_) that gentleman’s no more mad than you are—you’re
mistaken in your man, and I’ll prove it. (_goes to BROWN and in a loud
voice_) Walker!

BROWN. (_jumping round with a savage yell_) Ah!

MRS. J. (C.) Cousin Brown, don’t you know me? (_alarmed_)

BROWN. (R.) Cousin Jellicoe, delighted to see you! (_advancing to her,
seizing her hands and shaking them violently_)

MRS. J. (_in a soothing tone_) Don’t agitate yourself, Barbican. I
wouldn’t have touched upon such a delicate subject for the world—but I
never heard a syllable about the “Baron’s fair daughter—or the twopenny
postman” either till I was told of it just now by Mr.——

O’WALKER. (_interrupting her_) Exactly. (_aside to BROWN, who looks
astonished_) Don’t notice what she says, poor soul—insane! sad
case!—last Christmas went out without her bonnet—burning sun—snow on
the ground—never recovered it! (_goes up_)

BROWN. (_pathetically and looking at MRS. J._) Poor soul!

MRS. J. And now, Cousin Brown, now that I’ve got you—(_suddenly taking
his arm—BROWN rather alarmed_) we must talk over a certain little
matter—in other words, my darling Fanny is only waiting for her dear
godpapa’s consent to get married—isn’t she, Mr. O’Wal—— (_to O’WALKER_)

O’WALKER. (_very quickly_) Yes—yes. (_aside_) This is getting intensely
exciting!

BROWN. Well, my consent shan’t be wanting, nor a wedding portion
either, provided I approve of Fanny’s choice. What sort of a fellow is
he—eh?

MRS. J. Judge for yourself, Cousin Brown—for there he is. (_pointing to
O’WALKER_)

BROWN. Eh!—I’m delighted to hear it!— (_shaking O’WALKER’S hand_) but
where’s my god-daughter?—Brown requires his god-daughter!

MRS. J. There she is! (_to FANNY, who runs in L._) Fanny, embrace your
godpapa—he consents to your marriage.

FANNY. Oh, you dear, good, kind, handsome old man! (_embracing BROWN_)
Why don’t you throw your arms round him too, John Horatio?

BROWN. John Horatio—Walker?

MRS. J. (_aside to him_) Yes—but no relation to the twopenny postman,
on my honour.

BROWN. (_after a short pause and eyeing O’WALKER with a savage
earnestness, then approaching him and in a loud whisper_) So, sir!——

O’WALKER. I very much regret that most important business with the
Austrian Ambassador—— (_going_)

BROWN. (_grasping his arm and stopping him_) His Excellency must wait.
So, sir, _you_ are the friend of your intimate friend’s friend after
all, are you? I thank you, John Horatio, for the information, as it
will enable me to redeem my promise of immediately sweeping him off the
surface of the earth.

O’WALKER. Be it so, but I claim an Irishman’s right of making his last
speech. (_going towards L. and speaking off_) Will any one oblige me by
stopping the first omnibus that goes near the Surrey Zoological
Gardens, for the purpose of conveying this gentleman back to his cage.
(_pointing to BROWN_)

  _Enter PATTY, L.—overhears O’WALKER._

PATTY. Who? my B. B.! (_running to BROWN_) Let any one lay a finger on
my intended, if they dare! (_flourishing her clogs_)

MRS. J. Cousin Brown, your intended!—then why shouldn’t the two
weddings take place together? Come, Cousin Brown, give your consent—Mr.
O’Walker’s moral character will bear the strictest scrutiny.

PATTY. Like my B. B.’s. (_BROWN gives a savage laugh and looks at
O’WALKER_)

FANNY. And I am the only woman he ever loved. (_goes up_)

PATTY. Like my B. B. again. (_tenderly to BROWN—goes up_)

BROWN. Indeed!—the only woman he ever loved! ha, ha, ha, ha! (_with a
fierce look at O’WALKER, and slowly drawing the packet of letters from
his pocket_) Of that I have abundant proof in these letters, which——

O’WALKER. (_suddenly grasping BROWN’S arm and aside to him_) Betray me
and I’ll instantly acquaint your intended wife with her B. B.’s little
eccentricities at a certain little tobacconist’s shop in Little
Windmill Street.

BROWN. (_aside to him_) Pooh! she won’t believe you!

O’WALKER. Probably not; consequently, I shall refer her to you or
rather to this letter— (_producing BROWN’S letter_) to the “loveliest
of Amelias” from the “fondest of Browns.”

BROWN. Hush!—she’d tear my eyes out!—we are both standing on the edge
of a frightful precipice.

O’WALKER. We are; one step more, and over you go.

BROWN. And over _you_ go.

O’WALKER. In other words, over _we_ go.

BROWN. There’s only one thing to be done—let’s exchange letters.

O’WALKER. Agreed.

BROWN. Here are yours! (_gives packet of letters to O’WALKER_)

O’WALKER. And here’s yours—(_about to give BROWN the letter, stops_)
Stop! You consent to my marriage with Fanny?

BROWN. No! (_in a loud tone to O’WALKER_)

O’WALKER. Very well. Ahem! (_opening letter and about to read_)

BROWN. (_very loud_) I do consent!

O’WALKER. (_to the OTHERS_) He does consent! (_aside to BROWN and about
to give him the letter_) There—(_stops_) Stop! (_aloud_) With a wedding
portion of one thousand pounds?

BROWN. No—no! (_aside to O’WALKER_)

O’WALKER. Very well. Ahem! (_about to read letter_)

BROWN. Fanny shall have a thousand pounds!

O’WALKER. (_aloud to the OTHERS_) He says Fanny shall have a thousand
pounds! (_slips the letter into BROWN’S hand_) Generous, liberal-minded
man, allow me to embrace you—I don’t know why I should, but I do!
(_embraces BROWN_)

MRS. J. And me too, cousin! (_ditto_)

FANNY. And me, godpapa! (_ditto_)

PATTY. And me too, B. B.! (_ditto_)

BROWN. And now what say you to a comfortable dinner, by way of a wind
up?

O’WALKER. Agreed, and what’s more, you shall have the pleasure of
paying for it. (_BROWN about to remonstrate_) Nay, I insist upon it—I
don’t know why I should, but I do!

BROWN. With all my heart. (_looking at his watch_) Let me see—ten
minutes past three——

O’WALKER. Past three! (_snatching BROWN’S watch out of his pocket and
looking at it_) It is!—that scoundrel Dibbs—I’m ruined!—and yet—I may
catch him yet—ah! (_thrusting BROWN’S watch into fob and looking
towards L._) Yes—there goes one—here, conductor—stop! stop! (_opens his
umbrella and runs hastily, L., comes in contact with SCHNIPPS_)

O’WALKER. My tailor, again! It never rains but it pours—I don’t know
why it shouldn’t, but it don’t! Oh, Dibbs!—that scoundrel Dibbs!

SCHNIPPS. Dibbs! Oh, yes—he was the other bad gustomer I was talking
about, but I got to Bimligo just in time to stop him.

O’WALKER. Stop him?

SCHNIPPS. Yes, as he was getting into a cab; de police have got him and
everybody will have dere money back.

O’WALKER. Schnipps, come to my arms, but for you I should have lost a
fortune; and to prove my gratitude, you shall instantly make me
thirteen suits of clothes, and what’s more, you shall put them down on
the bill. (_SCHNIPPS about to remonstrate_) Not a word! I’m indebted to
you—I’ve paid you and I’m satisfied—I don’t know why I should be, but I
am!

BROWN. Then, as I said before——

VOICE. (_outside_) Now then—Islington! Holloway!

BROWN. There’s the Holloway omnibus, come along!

O’WALKER. Never mind, we’ll take a cab, there are only five of us—the
three ladies inside, myself on the box, and you on the top, that’s
settled—now we’re off!—no we ain’t—one moment—one word of advice before
we part—instead of “Waiting for an Omnibus in the Lowther Arcade on a
Rainy Day” recollect there is an establishment a few doors higher up,
whose hospitable doors open every evening at seven o’clock to all
classes of Her Majesty’s subjects, who’ve got money enough to pay for
their admission—I needn’t say, I mean the Theatre Royal, Adelphi!

     R.                                                   L.
  SCHNIPPS.  MRS. JELLICOE.  O’WALKER.  FANNY.  BROWN.  PATTY.

_Curtain._

Printed by Thomas Scott, 1, Warwick Court, Holborn.




Transcriber’s Note


This transcription is based on two sets of scans of the Lacy edition,
both of which are available through the Hathi Digital Library. The
first set is from a copy held by the University of Iowa:

  https://hdl.handle.net/2027/iau.31858023944576

The second set is from a copy of Volume 15 of Lacy’s Acting Edition of
Plays held by the University of Michigan, starting at page 323 of the
scans:

  https://hdl.handle.net/2027/mdp.39015067453046

Because of issues related to publication, the condition of the scanned
copies, and the scanning process itself, both sets were used for the
transcription.

The following changes were made to the text:

• Title page: _Milliner’s Holiday_—Changed to “_Milliners’ Holiday_”,
the correct title of the play.

• p. 5: As you say, it doesn’t rain here—I don’t know why it should’nt,
but it doesn’t!—Changed “should’nt” to “shouldn’t”.

• p. 8: FANNY. (R ) Ask mamma!—Added a period after “R”.

• p. 12: O’WALKER. (_impatiently_) Oh) confound it—there—Changed
closing parenthesis after “Oh” to an exclamation mark.

• p. 12: Ill swear to it—Change “Ill” to “I’ll”.

• p. 14: That’s no affair of your’s, sir—Changed “your’s” to “yours”.

• p. 14: B. B’s. so dreadfully jealous—Changed “B. B’s” to “B. B.’s”.

• p. 18: I’ve paid you and I’m saisfied—Changed “saisfied” to
“satisfied”.