Complete Works of J. M. Barrie

by Unknown

  LADY GILDING. Yes, everyone is here to-day, seeing my husband cut his corn.

  DOWAGER. His latest fad.

  LADY GILDING. Mamma!

  COSENS. Cut his corn! Ha, ha! But can you tell me how the Professor is now?

  DOWAGER. Yes, Doctor, I admit I think I can.

  COSENS. Ha!

  DOWAGER. Mildred, I’ll follow you in a minute. I am sure George is looking for you, precious. He must have cut himself by this time.

  LADY GILDING. You will lunch with us, Doctor, presently.

  COSENS. Delighted!

  LADY GILDING. And afterwards I should love to show baby to you.

  COSENS. I look forward to that.

  DOWAGER. He’s such a dear.

  LADY GILDING. He really is, and he is so fond of his grandmamma.

  (Exit LADY GILDING.)

  DOWAGER. Had a good journey, Dr. Cosens?

  COSENS. Capital! Carriage to myself all the way. I thought you were still in London, Lady Gilding.

  DOWAGER. No, we came north — soon after the Professor.

  COSENS. Indeed!

  DOWAGER. My candour surprises you, I see, but the fact is, that that simple little Lucy thing has told me all.

  COSENS. May I ask what ‘that simple little Lucy thing’ has told you?

  DOWAGER. That, in your opinion, our dear Professor is in love without knowing it.

  COSENS. Ha, I fancied ‘that simple little Lucy thing’ would keep that to herself. (Suddenly) Did she tell you who I think the lady is?

  DOWAGER. Yes, of course.

  COSENS. Who?

  (DOWAGER taps herself, complacently kisses au revoir to him, and COSENS, left alone, laughs boisterously, and sits. He is found in this condition by DR. YELLOWLEES, who comes binding but otherwise very professional, YELLOWLEES stares at COSENS’ amusement.)

  YELLOWLEES. Dr. Cosens, isn’t it?

  COSENS (pulling himself together). Eh? I beg pardon —

  YELLOWLEES. You don’t remember me! I had the pleasure of meeting you here two years ago — Dr. Yellowlees.

  COSENS. Ah, yes! You are attending the Professor, are you not?

  YELLOWLEES. Yes; I understand he was in your hands before he left London.

  COSENS. He was. But I wager he did not tell you what I thought was the matter with him.

  YELLOWLEES. No. He said you’d been baffled.

  COSENS. H’m! And you have been more successful?

  YELLOWLEES. With all deference — excuse my saying I have.

  COSENS. Capital! And what is the Professor’s ailment?

  YELLOWLEES (casually). Lumbago!

  COSENS (after staring at him). Lumbago! Splendid! Of course, it is lumbago. Why did I not think of that?

  YELLOWLEES. We all make our little mistakes at times.

  COSENS. Thanks. It’s very nice of you to put it in that way.

  YELLOWLEES. Perhaps we of the younger school —

  COSENS. Quite so. You know a thing or two more than we old fogies.

  YELLOWLEES. Not at all, not at all. What did you think it was?

  COSENS. I was going to say that I diagnosed the Professor’s ailment as a clear case of cherchez la femme.

  YELLOWLEES (puzzled and making one word of it). Chershylafam? Something new?

  COSENS. It’s all the rage in the south just now. Quite knocked out appendicitis.

  YELLOWLEES. Chershy la fam! What are the symptoms?

  COSENS. Obviously as in lumbago. Catches you in the back. Doubles you up.

  YELLOWLEES. Ha!

  (Enter LADY GILDING excitedly. She shrieks outside.

  COSENS rises.)

  LADY GILDING. Oh, oh!

  YELLOWLEES. What’s the matter? (Meets her.)

  LADY GILDING. Oh, that little imp, Lucy White — ugh!

  COSENS. Again! What is she doing now?

  LADY GILDING. She tried to put a mouse down my back.

  YELLOWLEES. Most shameful. My dear lady, how could she have so presumed?

  LADY GILDING. She said that I was looking so painfully respectable — that she felt she must make me jump. (Sits on stook.)

  COSENS (who has been privately amused). I must tell her what I think of this. A mouse! Most offensive. (Exit.)

  YELLOWLEES (comforting lady gilding). There, you’ll soon be yourself again, Lady Gilding, if you can contrive not to think of the mouse. Get it out of your mind’s eye.

  LADY GILDING. But I can’t — ugh!

  YELLOWLEES. Shall I call Sir George?

  LADY GILDING. No, I don’t want to bother him, for he has been a little out of sorts for some days.

  YELLOWLEES. That’s very true. That’s very true.

  LADY GILDING. You have noticed it?

  YELLOWLEES. Yes, yes! He isn’t quite himself. Bad colour. I have been keeping an eye on him.

  LADY GILDING. What is wrong with him, Doctor?

  YELLOWLEES. Eh — ah — oh, well —

  LADY GILDING. He gets angry when I speak of it, which makes me the more anxious.

  YELLOWLEES. Naturally. Irritable — a sure indication.

  LADY GILDING. Tell me candidly, Doctor.

  YELLOWLEES. Lady Gilding, I will. (Very importantly)

  This is a case of — of chershy la fam.

  LADY GILDING. What?

  YELLOWLEES. Yes, indeed. Quite an epidemic of it in London this year.

  LADY GILDING. Cherchez la femme!

  YELLOWLEES. Precisely.

  LADY GILDING. HOW dare you!

  YELLOWLEES. No need for alarm, Lady Gilding. These cases have to run their course.

  LADY GILDING (crying). Who is she?

  YELLOWLEES. Eh?

  LADY GILDING. You won’t tell me? Very well. But I shall go straight home and make inquiries, and I warn you and Sir George that I’ll find out before I am a day older.

  (Exit in agitation, YELLOWLEES ponders. Enter COSENS and MISS GOODWILLIE.)

  COSENS. Yes, a capital journey. Carriage to myself all the way. (He sees YELLOWLEES.) Ah, Doctor, did you get the mouse?

  YELLOWLEES. You said Chershylafam, didn’t you?

  COSENS. That’s it.

  YELLOWLEES. I suppose I’ll find it among the S’s?

  COSENS. Are you going to look it up in the books?

  YELLOWLEES. I might as well.

  COSENS. Good.

  (YELLOWLEES bows and exits.)

  (Amused.) Great! I like this fellow. I’ll tell you why presently. You are sure my visit does not put you about?

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Quite the contrary. The only thing is, that you must sleep at the Inn.

  COSENS. That will suit me famously.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Our cottage is so small that even Miss White had to get a bedroom in the village.

  COSENS. Speaking of Miss White, I was looking for her just now when I met you.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Ah!

  COSENS. How is she doing here?

  (MISS GOODWILLIE makes depreciating gesture.) I thought so.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Why didn’t you write and tell me of what was going on in London?

  COSENS. To begin with, it took me a week to find out.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. It took me ten minutes.

  COSENS. And, besides, to tell you the truth — Miss White was too clever for me.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Clever, bah! The stupidest woman is more than a match for the cleverest man.

  COSENS. And she and I are neither one nor the other. Well, what is the situation now?

  (LUCY’S voice is heard calling ‘Peepbo.’)

  Eh!

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Here they come. So you can judge for yourself.

  (cosens and miss goodwillie kneel behind stack.

  lucy again calls ‘Peepbo ‘ and hides by stack. She then calls ‘Peepbo.’ Enter professor gaily, with fishingrod and creel. He looks over rick and points at her. They don’t see miss goodwillie and cosens.)

  PROFESSOR. Ah ha, found! Now, Miss Lucy, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. You shall stay ther
e and I’ll pretend I can’t find you.

  LUCY (laughing). Don’t you think it’s rather childish.

  PROFESSOR. Not at all! It’s splendid fun.

  COSENS (rising). Peepbo! Hello, Tom! Do, Miss White!

  PROFESSOR. Hello, Dick!

  (LUCY jumps up.)

  Why, when did you come?

  COSENS. Just arrived —

  PROFESSOR. Had you a good —

  COSENS. Capital! Carriage to myself all the way. And how are you, Tom?

  PROFESSOR. Much better — am I not, Miss Lucy?

  LUCY. Anyone can see you are, isn’t it so, Miss Goodwillie?

  (MISS GOODWILLIE shows displeasure.)

  PROFESSOR. I say, Dick, do you remember what you thought was the matter with me?

  COSENS. I do!

  LUCY. And fancy, it turned out to be lumbago, Doctor. Is quinine good for lumbago?

  (COSENS winces.)

  PROFESSOR. Of course it was lumbago. Do I look as if it was the other thing, Dick? Ha, ha, Agnes, come here. Listen, Miss Lucy. I have such a joke for you, it is something I have not breathed to a soul, because it gave me such a fright at the time. You won’t mind my telling them, Dick?

  COSENS. Why should I?

  PROFESSOR. Well, you know, it does turn the laugh against you.

  COSENS. H’m!

  PROFESSOR. It’s this, Agnes. Listen, Miss Lucy. Dr. Cosens thought I had lost my power to work because I was in love, ha, ha, ha!

  (Laughs, COSENS and LUCY laugh, MISS GOODWILLIE does not.)

  LUCY. You’re not laughing, Miss Goodwillie.

  (MISS GOODWILLIE goes up stage angrily, COSENS laughs heartily.)

  PROFESSOR. Unless it was one of your jokes, Dick, you are a trump to take it so well.

  COSENS. H’m! It is another joke I am laughing at, Tom. But as you are mending so rapidly, I suppose you are at work on your book again?

  (LUCY rises.)

  PROFESSOR. Eh — ah — no! I haven’t done anything to my book. The fact is, I have been so busy with other things —

  COSENS. Such as ‘Peepbo.’ PROFESSOR. Well, at all events, if I was in love I wouldn’t be playing ‘peepbo’ with Miss White, would I?

  COSENS. What would you be doing?

  LUCY. He would be with his inamorata, of course — wouldn’t you, Professor?

  PROFESSOR (rises). Naturally. Surely you see that, Dick.

  (COSENS looks in PROFESSOR’S creel, LUCY goes.)

  COSENS (to PROFESSOR). And is this all? (Holding up a small trout.)

  PROFESSOR. All! I should think it is all.

  COSENS. I thought you put the little ones back.

  PROFESSOR (taking fish). Little ones. It’s a halfpounder.

  COSENS. You don’t mind my smoking, do you, Miss Goodwillie?

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Oh no. Tom, give the Doctor one of your cigars.

  PROFESSOR. Eh! Oh yes.

  COSENS. Thank you.

  (PROFESSOR signs him ‘No.’ COSENS is perplexed.)

  MISS GOODWILLIE. YOU have them with you?

  PROFESSOR. Oh yes, I have them with me. (Finds them.)

  Ah, here they are.

  (Hands case to MISS GOODWILLIE who hands them to COSENS, still signing to him. COSENS takes one and puts it in his mouth.)

  MISS GOODWILLIE. I bought these for Tom.

  COSENS (hurriedly removing cigar from his mouth). Oh!

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Yes, he was actually paying fifty shillings a hundred for his cigars, and I got these for twelve and sixpence. They are quite as large, Tom. (Gives case to PROFESSOR.)

  PROFESSOR. Yes — quite as — large. (Moves up and looks off.)

  COSENS. They are wonderfully large, but I shall keep this one until after dinner, it is so — large.

  PROFESSOR (feeling a vacuum). Miss Lucy has gone! (Looks for her.)

  (MISS GOODWILLIE signs hurriedly to COSENS to take him away, and goes.)

  COSENS (crossing to PROFESSOR and taking him by arm and dragging him across stage). Come along, Tom, and show me the sights. I’m burning to revisit them. The bridge and the kirk — and the kirk and the bridge. Is the village pump mended yet?

  PROFESSOR. But Miss White?

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Oh, I want to talk with her.

  PROFESSOR. Good, very good. I am so glad you and she get on so well together, Agnes.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Don’t we?

  COSENS. Come, Tom.

  PROFESSOR. Dick, could you jump that stook?

  COSENS. Not I.

  PROFESSOR. Then look here. Hold my hat. (Hands hat to COSENS, throws rod and creel down, jumps over stook.) What do you think of that?

  COSENS. For a man with lumbago, capital.

  PROFESSOR. Look out! (Jumps back.)

  COSENS. Hang it, Tom, you seem to have put off the Professor since you came north, and to have become a boy again.

  PROFESSOR. That is so, Dick, and I can’t understand it. Very odd — very — it must be something in the air.

  (COSENS looks at MISS GOODWILLIE, who signs to him to take PROFESSOR away.)

  COSENS. Let us go.

  PROFESSOR. Yes.

  (Just as they are going LUCY’S voice is heard calling ‘Peep bo.’)

  PROFESSOR (going). You heard that. Where is Miss Lucy? Where can she be? I wonder where Miss Lucy is?

  (Jumps stook and exit, COSENS laughs.)

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Now you know the situation — and you seem to enjoy it more than I do.

  COSENS. YOU seem to like it so little that I wonder you have not ended it.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. I wish I could, but I can’t send the woman away without telling Tom the reason, and then he is just as likely as not to propose to her.

  COSENS. Or would it frighten him out of his wits?

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Who can say?

  COSENS. Do you want him always to remain a bachelor?

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Till I can find the right woman for him.

  COSENS. Men are independent creatures, you know. Suppose Tom has found the right woman for himself.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Lucy White?

  COSENS. After all, you know nothing against her.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. I wish I did.

  COSENS. Except that Tom loves her.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Loves her, bah!

  COSENS. How bitterly you speak of love.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. Your old friend, Bob Sandeman, taught me what a man’s love amounts to, and I am not afraid to put an end to Tom’s.

  COSENS. Are you doing right?

  MISS GOODWILLIE. I know what is best for Tom Goodwillie.

  COSENS. And I suppose no one can be expected to think of what might be best for Lucy White?

  (LUCY runs on in game.)

  Miss GOODWILLIE. Ah, Miss White, we were talking about you.

  LUCY. That must be why my ear was burning. And which of you thinks the worst of me?

  MISS GOODWILLIE. I do.

  COSENS. Miss Goodwillie, come!

  MISS GOODWILLIE. I must speak, whatever happens. This girl shall be told what I think of her.

  LUCY. I know already.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. We were discussing your plot to marry my brother.

  COSENS. No, no!

  LUCY. Oh yes, I am sure it is true.

  MISS GOODWILLIE. I said that Tom is so simple that you may succeed. That you are a mere adventuress. That you obtained your position as his secretary merely with a desire to entrap him, and that you would stop at nothing, absolutely nothing, in order to do so.