by Unknown
LUCY. You hurt my heart.
PROFESSOR. I must not do that. I have been presumptuous, but I am not going to whine because I cannot pluck the stars. And when the great glory that I have missed comes into your life there is no one who will rejoice more heartily than the old Professor. It has not come yet?
(She can’t answer.)
Ah! I believe it has! Has it, Miss Lucy?
LUCY. Yes.
PROFESSOR. And he loves you? How could he help it.
LUCY. He loves me because he does not know me as I am.
PROFESSOR. Because he does know, you mean. Am I not to be told his name?
LUCY. No!
PROFESSOR. Ah, but I can picture him, and he is not ungainly and absent-minded, and he does not wear a faded velvet coat. Miss Lucy, do not weep for me; see how glad your news has made me, and when the wedding-bells are ringing I shall be there to give you away, and with a face so happy in your happiness that I — that I —
LUCY. Goodbye.
PROFESSOR (taking her hand). You see, I am not — not breaking down. Goodbye, Miss Lucy! Miss Lucy!
(He tries to smile, LUCY goes. He waves to her, then sits on seat sadly, MISS GOODWILLIE comes out, wearing bonnet.)
Miss goodwillie. I thought you were in the house, Tom.
PROFESSOR. You are not going to see Miss Lucy, Agnes?
MISS GOODWILLIE. Yes, I am.
PROFESSOR. Then you are going the wrong way.
(She turns.)
She is leaving us, Agnes.
MISS GOODWILLIE. No, she is not.
PROFESSOR. She has gone.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Passed!
PROFESSOR. She is going to London.
(cosens enters room.)
MISS GOODWILLIE (looking at watch). I have just time.
PROFESSOR. You are going to the station to say goodbye to her?
MISS GOODWILLIE. I am going — to the station.
COSENS (appearing at window). Are you coming in, Tom?
PROFESSOR. Yes. (Enters house.)
MISS GOODWILLIE. Doctor Cosens, tell him what I have been telling you — about my treatment of Lucy.
COSENS. Good! (Closes window and pulls down blind and moves lamp.)
(henders comes on, wheeling empty barrow.)
MISS GOODWILLIE. You have been to the station with Miss White’s luggage?
HENDERS. Ay!
MISS GOODWILLIE. Then go to the station again and bring it back.
(She goes. Enter pete.)
HENDERS. Did you hear that, Pete — first take the luggage to the station. Second, bring it back. Dagont, women is a mysterious sex. They are the most mysterious sex I ken.
PETE. They ‘re terrible dangerous. They have no pity.
HENDERS. There’s one has had pity on you. It’s queer to think you’ll soon be Pete Maclean, the married man.
PETE. Woe is me, Henders.
(pete offers his snuff-mill.)
HENDERS. Have you been singing love songs to Effie at her window, Pete?
PETE. Far frae it.
HENDERS. YOU are looking the very picture of a proud and happy lover.
PETE. I dinna feel like that. Henders, I have come to offer her my eight-day clock to let me off.
HENDERS. Marriage scares you?
PETE. The thought o’t puts me in a sweat o’ terror.
HENDERS. And no wonder. But she’ll no let you off, Pete — unless.
PETE. Unless? If you could see any way out?
HENDERS. Unless you can get another man to take your place.
PETE. Oh, Henders, if you would only — will you, Henders?
HENDERS. Me tak’ her?
PETE. Henders, I always thought she was made for you.
HENDERS. Did you now?
PETE. She’s a noble critter, Henders — what a neat waist she has. There’s scarcely her equal at baking or washing, and she’s a wonder wi’ her needles. To have a canty bit stocky o’ a wifey at your own fireside, man — to see her smiling at the door — to hear her singing about the hoose! Take her, Henders! Take her, man!
HENDERS. Pete, rather than see you suffer, I am willing to mike this sacrifice.
PETE. Henders! I’ll be your best man!
HENDERS. But, of course, this arrangement will cost you something.
PETE. My eight-day clock for a marriage present.
HENDERS. Ay, to Effie. But what will your marriage present to me be?
PETE. TO you?
HENDERS. That butter dish o’ yours is a bonny thing — I’ll take the butter dish. Also your picture o’ Bobby Burns sitting on a tree playing the concertina, also six knives and forks, also a spade, also three sackfuls o’ potatoes.
PETE. Onything else?
HENDERS. Ay, that new china spittoon o’ yours takes my fancy. Now, as a single man, you have no need for a spittoon, so I’ll take it.
PETE. I’ll rather marry her mysel’.
HENDERS. Very well, good night to you, Pete. (Murmurs)
Pete Maclean, the married man.
PETE. Henders!
HENDERS. What!
PETE. I — I — oh, Henders man, you can have them.
HENDERS. That’s richt. It’s a bargain, then?
PETE. It’s a bargain.
(They snuff, HENDERS giving his snuffbox this time.)
HENDERS. Good nicht to ye, Pete.
PETE. Good nicht to you, Henders.
(Exit henders pete looks after him, then calls to effie, who comes out.)
PETE. Effie!
EFFIE. Quick, Pete, tell me, am I yours or his?
PETE. His.
(effie’s face? beams, HENDERS is heard whistling.)
Listen to the boldness of him!
(EFFIE is going.)
Whaur are you going, Effie?
EFFIE. I have just time to give Henders something before the nine o’clock bell rings; (Meaning the kiss) something that he would rather have than all the eight-day clocks in the county.
PETE. What can that be?
EFFIE. You’ll never know — you poor, spiritless critter.
(She goes.)
PETE (bewildered and rather fond of her). Have I made an awful mistake? Effie, Effie woman!
(The nine o’clock bell begins to strike in distance. He goes heavily. When the bell has ceased, MISS GOODWILLIE and lucy enter.)
LUCY (looking at cottage). I never expected to see it again. Miss Goodwillie, if you had not told me I could not have believed that he would forgive me for deceiving him so shamelessly in the field.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Lucy, I have a confession to make to you. He does not know of that.
LUCY. Oh! You said you had told him!
MISS GOODWILLIE. It was my only way to get you back.
LUCY. You have deceived me!
MISS GOODWILLIE. He is so unhappy, Lucy, and my letter is a voice from the dead, telling me not to part true lovers. Lucy dear, it rests with you to say that Bob’s last letter to me was not written in vain. Go inside to him.
LUCY. If I do, I must tell him all.
MISS GOODWILLIE. It’s not necessary.
LUCY. It is necessary for me. I could never look him in the face again, if I didn’t first tell him all.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Then tell him ‘all,’ and be thankful it is so little you have to tell him.
LUCY. Little!
MISS GOODWILLIE. You have only brought him to his senses by a naughty trick. The Humane Society should give you a medal.
LUCY. ‘I would never overlook guile in a woman,’ those were his words.
MISS GOODWILLIE. It is your part to make him eat them.
LUCY. You said yourself, he would never forgive me.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Pooh! I was just taking advantage of your being an emotional goose. You are a sensible woman in other matters, but a goose is what you have been about this. You wouldn’t be halfway to London before you saw that all you have done is the merest trifle.
LUCY. He will be so — amazed.
&n
bsp; MISS GOODWILLIE. He will, indeed! And then how he will chuckle! If he is the good fellow I think him.
LUCY. No, no!
MISS GOODWILLIE. And then he will shout for me to come and hear what a clever Miss Lucy it is! Go!
LUCY. I’m so frightened. You don’t think it would be better if I just went and drowned myself!
MISS GOODWILLIE. Here is something for luck. (Kisses her.)
He thinks Lucy White is the loveliest name in the world. Tell him you are getting tired of it.
(Enter lucy into house, miss goodwillie produces her torn letter to read. She hears voices, glances at window, full of curiosity. Enter sir george, lady gilding, and dowager.)
DOWAGER. Miss Goodwillie, let us congratulate you.
LADY GILDING. On your merciful escape from the woman White.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Thank you. Won’t you sit down? It is so pleasant out of doors.
(They sit. She stands, with glances at window.)
SIR GEORGE. We met the man, Henders, a quarter of an hour ago wheeling her luggage to the station.
LADY GILDING. And we climbed the little hill and watched her train go off.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Oh, indeed!
SIR GEORGE. Is the Professor at home? Miss goodwillie (who is taking eager peeps at window). Yes. But he is — very busy just now.
LADY GILDING. He has reached an important point in his labours, has he not?
MISS GOODWILLIE. A very important point.
DOWAGER. And how is he getting on?
MISS GOODWILLIE. I’m not sure; I wish I knew.
(COSENS comes to gate.)
COSENS. Good evening, all.
SIR GEORGE. Perhaps the Doctor can tell us.
LADY GILDING. We are asking, Doctor, how the Professor is getting on?
COSENS. He sent me out this moment to tell Miss Goodwillie that he is getting on famously.
MISS GOODWILLIE. You really mean that, Doctor?
COSENS. I mean it.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Then it is all right.
DOWAGER. I am so glad.
SIR GEORGE. We have been congratulating Miss Goodwillie on sending Miss White back to London.
COSENS. Ah! (Looks at MISS GOODWILLIE.)
(The figures of PROFESSOR and LUCY are seen tn shadow on blind, COSENS, from where he is standing, sees them.
MISS GOODWILLIE sees also. The others, being seated beneath window, do not see.)
LADY GILDING. I hope he is not missing her.
COSENS. Not in the least.
(professor is seen, in shadow, putting fingers through lucy’s hair.)
DOWAGER. She is in her right place, at last!
(LUCY is seen with head on PROFESSOR’S chest.)
COSENS. She is!
MISS GOODWILLIE. She is. And now I have something to tell you all. I want Tom to marry.
DOWAGER. Mildred!
LADY GILDING. Mamma!
MISS GOODWILLIE. What is more, the woman I should like to see him married to, is — very near him at this moment.
DOWAGER. George!
MISS GOODWILLIE. I believe she loves him.
DOWAGER. She does! Oh! You make me so happy.
(cosens, who is leaning over the gate, chuckles.)
Dear Miss Goodwillie, come and sit beside me.
MISS GOODWILLIE. With pleasure.
(professor’s hand is seen opening window a little.)
LADY GILDING. What was that? Miss goodwillie. It must be Tom opening his window.
DOWAGER. That is where he works, isn’t it? The last time I was in that room he gave me an electric shock.
COSENS. You don’t need to be in the room for that. He could give you an electric shock, though you were sitting here and he upstairs.
LADY GILDING. How clever!
DOWAGER. I wish he would.
PROFESSOR. Dearest!
(dowager rises.)
MISS GOODWILLIE (as if she had heard nothing). What is it?
DOWAGER. I thought — I must have been mistaken.
SIR GEORGE. Miss Goodwillie, the match to which you refer will give me complete satisfaction.
LADY GILDING. It has our warm approval.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Thank you.
PROFESSOR. Darling!
SIR GEORGE. Do you hear anything?
DOWAGER. Not just now — but a moment ago —
LADY GILDING. I heard nothing.
MISS GOODWILLIE. Nor I.
SIR GEORGE. Strange.
LADY GILDING. I am sure she will make him a good wife, Miss Goodwillie.
MISS GOODWILLIE. I am certain of it.
DOWAGER. How kind you are, dear.
MISS GOODWILLIE. I only say what I think, Lady Gilding.
DOWAGER. Call me ‘Emily.’ miss goodwillie. Certainly, if you wish it, Emily.
PROFESSOR. For I know now that the greatest glory in a man’s life is to have his arms round the girl he loves —
(LUCY is seen in shadow whispering to him.)
SIR GEORGE. Mildred!
(SIR GEORGE, DOWAGER, and LADY GILDING stare at each other, COSENS and MISS GOODWILLIE pretend to have heard nothing.)
MISS GOODWILLIE. I suppose you will have all your harvest in by the end of the week, Sir George?
SIR GEORGE. Eh — ah — oh! Yes! Mildred, did you?
LADY GILDING. Distinctly.
DOWAGER. So did I.
MISS GOODWILLIE. What is it?
SIR GEORGE. Nothing!
COSENS. It will be a pity if the weather breaks down.
PROFESSOR. Say it again.
LUCY. I love you. You are sure you forgive me?
PROFESSOR. Quite!
DOWAGER and LADY GILDING. White!
PROFESSOR. Did you hear an echo just now?
COSENS. The corn becomes so draggled in wet weather, but I believe the glass says ‘set fair.’ PROFESSOR. Forgive your pretending to faint? Of course I do! It showed that you loved me so much that you couldn’t wait till I discovered for myself that I loved you. Ha, ha, ha!
SIR GEORGE. Fudge!
MISS GOODWILLIE. What?
LUCY. It was the Dowager who gave me the idea.
LADY GILDING. Mamma!
LUCY. And so we may say that we owe our happiness to the Dowager.
PROFESSOR. We must thank her, dear.
SIR GEORGE. Oh, Emily.
PROFESSOR. If the Dowager had not written me that letter, you would not be in my arms now, Lucy.
DOWAGER. I feel sick.
LADY GILDING. Let us go home, George! Good evening!
MISS GOODWILLIE. Going already?
PROFESSOR. There is one thing in her letter that I could not make out?
DOWAGER (alarmed). Come away.
PROFESSOR. It is this — after her signature, there are three crosses. What can they mean?
LUCY. Three crosses! Oh!
LADY GILDING. Mamma!
(sir GEORGE and LADY GILDING gO.)
MISS GOODWILLIE. Any message to Lucy — Emily?
DOWAGER (after seeing the humour of it and bursting into laughter). Tell her, with my love, that I should like to slap her.
(Exit.)
(cosens laughs, miss goodwillie goes to seat and sits.)
COSENS. And the beauty of it is that those two upstairs have not an idea that they have put a whole family to flight! Hullo, Tom!
