LITMIR.BIZ

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into the workroom. LADY CHESHIRE moves towards the window.

      JOAN. [Following her sisters] The car's round. What's the matter?

      DOT. Shut up!

      SIR WILLIAM'S voice is heard from the corridor calling "Dorothy!" As LADY CHESHIRE, passing her handkerchief over her face, turns round, he enters. He is in full hunting dress: well-weathered pink, buckskins, and mahogany tops.

      SIR WILLIAM. Just off, my dear. [To his daughters, genially] Rehearsin'? What! [He goes up to FREDA holding out his gloved right hand] Button that for me, Freda, would you? It's a bit stiff!

      FREDA buttons the glove: LADY CHESHIRE and the girls watching in hypnotic silence.

      SIR WILLIAM. Thank you! "Balmy as May"; scent ought to be first-rate. [To LADY CHESHIRE] Good-bye, my dear! Sampson's Gorse —best day of the whole year. [He pats JOAN on the shoulder] Wish you were cumin' out, Joan.

      He goes out, leaving the door open, and as his footsteps and the chink of his spurs die away, FREDA turns and rushes into the workroom.

      CHRISTINE. Mother! What–?

      But LADY CHESHIRE waves the question aside, passes her daughter, and goes out into the corridor. The sound of a motor car is heard.

      JOAN. [Running to the window] They've started—! Chris! What is it? Dot?

      DOT. Bill, and her!

      JOAN. But what?

      DOT. [Gloomily] Heaven knows! Go away, you're not fit for this.

      JOAN. [Aghast] I am fit.

      DOT. I think not.

      JOAN. Chris?

      CHRISTINE. [In a hard voice] Mother ought to have told us.

      JOAN. It can't be very awful. Freda's so good.

      DOT. Call yourself in love, you milk-and-water-kitten!

      CHRISTINE. It's horrible, not knowing anything! I wish Runny hadn't gone.

      JOAN. Shall I fetch John?

      DOT. John!

      CHRISTINE. Perhaps Harold knows.

      JOAN. He went out with Studdenham.

      DOT. It's always like this, women kept in blinkers. Rose-leaves and humbug! That awful old man!

      JOAN. Dot!

      CHRISTINE. Don't talk of father like that!

      DOT. Well, he is! And Bill will be just like him at fifty! Heaven help Freda, whatever she's done! I'd sooner be a private in a German regiment than a woman.

      JOAN. Dot, you're awful.

      DOT. You-mouse-hearted-linnet!

      CHRISTINE. Don't talk that nonsense about women!

      DOT. You're married and out of it; and Ronny's not one of these terrific John Bulls. [To JOAN who has opened the door] Looking for John? No good, my dear; lath and plaster.

      JOAN. [From the door, in a frightened whisper] Here's Mabel!

      DOT. Heavens, and the waters under the earth!

      CHRISTINE. If we only knew!

      MABEL comes in, the three girls are silent, with their eyes fixed on their books.

      MABEL. The silent company.

      DOT. [Looking straight at her] We're chucking it for to-day.

      MABEL. What's the matter?

      CHRISTINE. Oh! nothing.

      DOT. Something's happened.

      MABEL. Really! I am sorry. [Hesitating] Is it bad enough for me to go?

      CHRISTINE. Oh! no, Mabel!

      DOT. [Sardonically] I should think very likely.

      While she is looking from face to face, BILL comes in from the workroom. He starts to walk across the room, but stops, and looks stolidly at the four girls.

      BILL. Exactly! Fact of the matter is, Miss Lanfarne, I'm engaged to my mother's maid.

      No one moves or speaks. Suddenly MABEL LANFARNE goes towards him, holding out her hand. BILL does not take her hand, but bows. Then after a swift glance at the girls' faces MABEL goes out into the corridor, and the three girls are left staring at their brother.

      BILL. [Coolly] Thought you might like to know. [He, too, goes out into the corridor.]

      CHRISTINE. Great heavens!

      JOAN. How awful!

      CHRISTINE. I never thought of anything as bad as that.

      JOAN. Oh! Chris! Something must be done!

      DOT. [Suddenly to herself] Ha! When Father went up to have his glove buttoned!

      There is a sound, JACKSON has came in from the corridor.

      JACKSON. [To Dot] If you please, Miss, Studdenham's brought up the other two pups. He's just outside. Will you kindly take a look at them, he says?

      There is silence.

      DOT. [Suddenly] We can't.

      CHRISTINE. Not just now, Jackson.

      JACKSON. Is Studdenham and the pups to wait, Mm?

      DOT shakes her head violently. But STUDDENHAM is seen already standing in the doorway, with a spaniel puppy in either side-pocket. He comes in, and JACKSON stands waiting behind him.

      STUDDENHAM. This fellow's the best, Miss DOT. [He protrudes the right-hand pocket] I was keeping him for my girl—a proper greedy one—takes after his father.

      The girls stare at him in silence.

      DOT. [Hastily] Thanks, Studdenham, I see.

      STUDDENHAM. I won't take 'em out in here. They're rather bold yet.

      CHRISTINE. [Desperately] No, no, of course.

      STUDDENHAM. Then you think you'd like him, Miss DOT? The other's got a white chest; she's a lady.

      [He protrudes the left-hand pocket.]

      DOT. Oh, yes! Studdenham; thanks, thanks awfully.

      STUDDENHAM. Wonderful faithful creatures; follow you like a woman. You can't shake 'em off anyhow. [He protrudes the right-hand pocket] My girl, she'd set her heart on him, but she'll just have to do without.

      DOT. [As though galvanised] Oh! no, I can't take it away from her.

      STUDDENHAM. Bless you, she won't mind! That's settled, then. [He turns to the door. To the PUPPY] Ah! would you! Tryin' to wriggle out of it! Regular young limb! [He goes out, followed by JACKSON.]

      CHRISTINE. How ghastly!

      DOT. [Suddenly catching sight of the book in her hand] "Caste!" [She gives vent to a short sharp laugh.]

      The curtain falls.

      ACT III

      It is five o'clock of the same day. The scene is the smoking-room, with walls of Leander red, covered by old steeplechase and hunting prints. Armchairs encircle a high ferulered hearth, in which a fire is burning. The curtains are not yet drawn across mullioned windows, but electric light is burning. There are two doors, leading, the one to the billiard-room, the other to a corridor. BILL is pacing up and doom; HAROLD, at the fireplace, stands looking at him with commiseration.

      BILL. What's the time?

      HAROLD. Nearly five. They won't be in yet, if that's any consolation. Always a tough meet—[softly] as the tiger said when he ate the man.

      BILL. By Jove! You're the only person I can stand within a mile of me, Harold.

      HAROLD. Old boy! Do you seriously think you're going to make it any better by marrying her?

      [Bill shrugs his shoulders, still pacing the room.]

      BILL. Look here! I'm not the sort that finds it easy to say things.

      HAROLD.

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