Arthur Wing Pinero

“ Look here, Izod, I've had half an hour at the ricks this morning, ferreting the rats. A man shoots rats because they are vermin—it's lucky for you, and idlers like you, that you're on two legs instead of four. Chris. For shame, Gilbert Hythe; I'm his sister. (goes to C.) Gil. I beg your pardon, Christie; I ought to have held my tongue before you. Look here, Izod, my lad, you know that the Squire can't bear the sight of loafers and ne'er-do-wells. Why don't you go where you're welcome? (goes up stage to archway) Izod. ”

“ Dormer. That—what? Kate. That. Take it away with you—take it away! (Dormer crosses to table, takes up paper and puts it in his pocket, and crosses back to L.) (lightly again) Strange creatures, we women, aren't we—and superstitious, a little. Remember, Parson dear, we must keep our secret. Think of the scandal and misery for poor Eric if this history became known. For Eric's sake, remember. Dormer. You bear the young gentleman no grudge? Kate. I—no. Dormer. (looking at her) Ah, you'll eat a breakfast to-morrow—I shan't—and my wound is twenty years old. ”

“ Kate. Don't talk fiddle-de-dee nonsense about your life being wrecked. Gilbert, we were children together, we were lad and lass together, and perhaps, if we both live, we may be old people together—but we mustn't be man and woman together; it doesn't answer. Now, tell me, what are you supposed to be on my land? Gil. Folks call me the bailiff, but I'm more of a handyman. I work for Squire Kate, my dear master—and I love Squire Kate, my dear mistress. Kate. Then take a word of advice—cut yourself adrift from Squire Kate's apron strings. ”

“ Kate. Yes. Chris. (aside to Izod, clutching his arm) Izod, I'll see you out past the dog, dear—then go and lie by the ricks near the Five Trees, and watch who passes under the archway to-night. Izod. (in a whisper) How long am I to wait? Chris. Wait till a man walks from the Market-Sinfield road, and you won't wait long, (to Kate) Good-night, Squire, dear. Kate. (turning) Good-night, Christie. (Chris, and Izod go out L., closing the door after them. The clock strikes nine.) (Looks at her watch) Already! Oh, if that boy should not have passed the Five Trees before Eric comes! How provoking! ”

“ Strong enough to keep from drink and gambling, when you make me mad; weak enough to crawl about this place for the sake of a look from you. Strong enough to love you with all my soul; weak enough not to hate you for wrecking my life. ”

“ Kate. Thank you, Gilbert, for thinking so much of to-morrow. Gil. (looking at her earnestly) Don't name it, Squire. Kate. (awkwardly) The summer's over—the winds are getting quite cold—good afternoon, Gilbert. (Kate takes shawl off stone and goes towards steps, where Gilbert intercepts her.) Gil. Squire! Kate. Yes? Gil. Will you listen to me? Kate. (L. C.) Business? Gil. (R. of her) The business of my life. Kate. Oh, Gilbert! Again? (sits) Gil. (puts gun down R., of archway) Squire— Squire Kate, I—I can't take "no" for an answer. Kate. Are you a strong man or a weak one? ”

“ Dormer. Mr. Thorndyke, I am without the smooth tongue of my class. I find you in a woman's house, where you are a guest by night as well as by day. I bid you begone. You are a soldier lacking chivalry—a man who makes war upon weakness —you are a coward! (step) Eric. A coward, Mr. Dormer, is one who, under the cover of his age and profession, uses language for which a younger and a braver man would be chastised, (goes up stage toward fire-place) Kate. (crosses to Dormer R.) Parson, you don't guess the truth. If you knew! (crosses to C. Eric drops R.) Dormer. ”

“ The editor of the "Pagley Mercury and Market- Sinfield Herald," with which are incorporated the "Inn-Keeper's Manual" and the "Agriculturists' Guide," presents his compliments to Squire Verity, and, regarding the ever-spreading influence of modern journalism, requests that I, its representative, may be permitted to be present at Squire Verity's Harvest Feast to-morrow evening. (Kate laughs heartily. The S. P. looks round at Rob. to ascertain the cause of her amusement) Journalism is as a tree, its root is embedded in our constitution, while its branches— Kate. All right; you can come. ”

“ I wonder if keys are worth anything. (slips keys into side pocket, and crosses to door L., meeting Chris., who comes out with a mug of milk. Snatching it from her) There's a dear! (he puts mug to lips and takes it away quickly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand) Pah! You're a good sort of a sister—milk! Chris. I dursn't tap the ale without Squire's orders—the new barrel isn't to be touched till the Harvest Feast. Down with it—it's meat and drink. Izod. Ugh! Here goes! Confound the Squire! (he drinks, gives back mug and holds out hand for coin. She puts mug on table) Coin for tobacco. ”

“ Gun. I'm an old man, I am, I ain't got a tooth to my yead. I've had thirteen children, and now the last of 'em's gone. It ain't for an old man to see the only set of teeth in his house walk out of the front door without takin' on a bit. (Felicity sings again off R.) Why, confound the brat, she's squalling in the Squire's place now. Don't 'ee stand it, Squire! (Felicity comes from door R., carrying a book and a little silken shawl. She gives book to Kate, and gently places the shawl on Kate's chair.) ”

“ Mark me, I care no more for you, as a woman, than for the beggars in our High Street; but, for the sake of the charities which stand to the account of one Squire Kate, I throw into the current a small pebble. Kate. (in an undertone) What is that? (keeps her eyes on Eric) Dormer. (pointing in the direction of Eric) Repair those old gates, and keep that young gentleman on the other side of them. Kate. Suppose—I—like the young gentleman? Dormer. If he marries in his mother's lifetime he is a pauper. Kate. I know that. Dormer. What business has he here? Kate. It kills time. Dormer. ”

“ The Villagers and Farm Servants, Men, Women, and Children troop in and cluster in doorway up stage L., At the same time the Parson, breaking his way through them, enters and comes to Kate. Kate. with the little child, rises to receive him.) Kate. (gratefully) Ah, Parson, how kind of you. Dormer. You—you look ill. Kate. No, no, not now. Dormer. Whose child is this? Kate. Mr. Fell's, the grocer's little girl. Dormer. Bah! the world's full of girls. Gun. Now then, Joe Parsley, leave go of Jane Boadsley's waist! You don't see me lowering myself with a woman! Squire, the Harvest Song! ”

“ Ah! the man who painted this miniature hasn't done Eric justice; the face is too white and pink, and the moustache isn't at all the right shade. I know I could catch the exact tone of Eric's moustache if I were a painter. ”

“ Dor. crosses to R., C., to speak to him. Kate looks on anxiously, fearing a quarrel.) Dormer. And in times of war, sir? Eric. The British officer, I am credibly informed, is a demon when roused, (putting his legs up on garden seat) I have never been roused. You don't like my profession, parson? Dormer. No, sir, I do not. Eric. I often wish my mother had made me a parson. Dormer. Why, sir? Eric. Because, sir, a clergyman is the only man in the world privileged to be rude on the subject of another person's calling. (Kate approaches them.) Dormer. A clergyman, sir, is a professional truth-teller. ”

“ Sun is shining, flow'rs are blooming, Light and bloom are not for aye; What if sob and sigh are looming, Hear the jingle while you may! CURTAIN. There's a jingle to make a maiden glad, etc. (Kate enters at close of song—puts keys on table.) Kate. (leans over back of arm-chair—listening) Poor little bird, singing of her soldier lover. How am I to tell her that her soldier's heart is not of so bright a colour as his jacket? How can I tell her, when there is another soldier lover in the world so good and so true? (sits R., of table—she opens her locket; it contains a likeness of Eric) Eric! ”

“ A broken back for the husbandman, And golden corn for the Squire! Squire-ire-ire! (At end of Chorus a young girl comes from the crowd and presents Kate with a basket of fruit and flowers. Kate kisses her—the girl returns.) Gun. Squire Verity, it was my desire for to have been took down in my words by Mercury. Mercury, however, is non composite, as the saying goes. Villagers. More shame for him! Gun. But what I have to tell you is this here, Squire; the men wish you a better harvest next harvest than this harvest—as much 'ops and more wheat and barley, not to say hoats. Villagers. ”

“ Kate. Your father has played at every harvest feast here for the last five and twenty years—is he very ill? Rob. Father's respects, and he's as bad as he can well be, and he hopes it'll make no difference. Kate. Good gracious! Gilbert, have you sent the doctor? Gil. The doctor's busy with an invalid at the White Lion at Market-Sinfield—a stranger. Kate. No stranger has a right to all the doctor. (rises and stands by table R., making notes in book) All right, Master Robjohns, you shall play the fiddle to-morrow night. Rob. Thank'ee, Squire. Kate. Christie! Gil. Christie! Chris. ”

“ Chris. Go in, Izod! Here's the Squire! go in! (She pushes Izod in L.) (Kate Verity comes out of house R., C. and down the steps; she is a pretty woman, bright, fresh, and cheery; she carries a small key-basket containing keys, and an account book and pencil, which she places on R., table as she turns from Gilbert; she throws the shawl over the mounting stone as Gilbert Hythe appears in the archway, followed by Robjohns, Junior, a mild-looking, fair youth, and a shabby person in black with a red face.) I'm close at hand if you want me, Squire. Here's Gilbert! (she goes into outhouse L.) Kate. ”

“ Poor Izod won't have to wait long, (going to door L.) Shall I sit up, Squire? Kate. No, I will see the parson through the archway. (Chris, goes out.) Dormer. Something unusual has brought me to you. Kate. (with exclamation and quickly) I feared so. Dormer. I am here to render a service to John Verity's daughter. Kate. Thank you. Dormer. (stands with his back to fire—the red glow is upon them) People think me a strange man, but I am strange even to myself when I find my heart running away with me as it does to-night. Kate. You make me frightened of what you have to say to me. Dormer. ”

“ Darn this wardrobe! (turning to look at Fel.) Ah! your twelve brothers and sisters never had a start in the world like o' this! (He goes off—Chris, closes the door after him, then sits on chair up L., knitting. Gil. comes to table, puts hat down.) Gil. The time's come for us to part company. I've brought my books and odds and ends, Squire, as I promised. Kate. But you must make one at the Harvest Feast, Gilbert. Who is to play with the children, and to set the old folks laughing, if you are missing? ”

“ Chris. Guess. Fel. How did you get it? (quickly) Chris. It was left here this morning by a common soldier. Fel. (jumps with glee) Oh, it's from Tom! He's not common—he's a sergeant. How dare you keep my letter all day? Chris. (holds up letter—reading the address) "Miss Felicity Gunnion—immejit." Immejit. He can't even spell properly—that's a good match for a girl. Fel. (indignantly) I can't spell at all—it's a very good match, (she snatches the letter from Chris, and opens it—aside) Dear Tom— (crosses to sofa L.) — that's his smudge—he always begins with a smudge. ”

“ Thorndyke that the poor folks look for a glimpse of him to-day. That he shouldn't leave England without seeing the last of Verity's farm. Gilbert, say that we need not meet, (quickly) Go—tell him to come to me! (Gil. hurries off; Kate sits on couch L., Chris. stands before her. Izod. comes down C.) Chris. You're going to turn your back on Market- Sinfield, Squire. What's to become of me! (crosses her arms) Kate. The poor servant's fortune always falls with the house, Christie. You're young and strong, and better off than your mistress. Chris. ”

“ Folks will have to laugh at me, Squire, if they are to get a laugh out of me, to-morrow, (he takes a few rusty keys and some small dog-eared books from his pocket, and places them on table before Kate) Here are the keys—the Red Barn, the barn below Fenning's field, the store house. The key of the oats house— (Kate puts key and money in key basket) —Gunnion's got. (puts books on table) There's my account—it's poor book-keeping, Squire, but plain. Will you cast your eye over it? Kate. (shaking her head) No! ”