Complete Works of J. M. Barrie

by Unknown

  PURDIE. Ah, that is one of its most charming features. It is never twice in the same place apparently. It has been seen on different parts of the Downs and on More Common; once it was close to Radley village and another time about a mile from the sea. Oh, a sporting wood!

  LADY CAROLINE. And Lob is anxious that we should all go and look for it?

  COADE. Not he; Lob is the only sceptic in the house. Says it is all rubbish, and that we shall be sillies if we go. But we believe, eh, Purdie?

  PURDIE (waggishly). Rather!

  LOB (the artful). Just wasting the evening. Let us have a round game at cards here instead.

  PURDIE (grandly), No, sir, I am going to find that wood.

  JOANNA. What is the good of it when it is found?

  PURDIE. We shall wander in it deliciously, listening to a new sort of bird called the Philomel.

  (LOB is behaving in the most exemplary manner; making sweet little clucking sounds.)

  JOANNA (doubtfully). Shall we keep together, Mr. Purdie?

  PURDIE. No, we must hunt in pairs.

  JOANNA. (converted). I think it would be rather fun. Come on, Coady, I’ll lace your boots for you. I am sure your poor foot will carry you nicely.

  ALICE. Miss Trout, wait a moment. Lob, has this wonderful wood any special properties?

  LOB. Pooh! There’s no wood.

  LADY CAROLINE. You’ve never seen it?

  LOB. Not I. I don’t believe in it.

  ALICE. Have any of the villagers ever been in it?

  LOB (dreamily). So it’s said; so it’s said.

  ALICE. What did they say were their experiences?

  LOB. That isn’t known. They never came back.

  JOANNA (promptly resuming her seat). Never came back!

  LOB. Absurd, of course. You see in the morning the wood was gone; and so they were gone, too. (He clucks again.)

  JOANNA. I don’t think I like this wood.

  MRS. COADE. It certainly is Midsummer Eve.

  COADE (remembering that women are not yet civilised). Of course if you ladies are against it we will drop the idea. It was only a bit of fun.

  ALICE (with a malicious eye on LOB). Yes, better give it up — to please Lob.

  PURDIE. Oh, all right, Lob. What about that round game of cards?

  (The proposal meets with approval.)

  LOB (bursting into tears). I wanted you to go. I had set my heart on your going. It is the thing I wanted, and it isn’t good for me not to get the thing I want.

  (He creeps under the table and threatens the hands that would draw him out.)

  MRS. COADE. Good gracious, he has wanted it all the time. You wicked Lob!

  ALICE. Now, you see there is something in it.

  COADE. Nonsense, Mrs. Dearth, it was only a joke.

  MABEL (melting). Don’t cry, Lobby.

  LOB. Nobody cares for me — nobody loves me. And I need to be loved.

  (Several of them are on their knees to him.)

  JOANNA. Yes, we do, we all love you. Nice, nice Lobby.

  MABEL. Dear Lob, I am so fond of you.

  JOANNA. Dry his eyes with my own handkerchief. (He holds up his eyes but is otherwise inconsolable.)

  LADY CAROLINE. Don’t pamper him.

  LOB (furiously). I need to be pampered.

  MRS. COADE. You funny little man. Let us go at once and look for his wood.

  (All feel that thus alone can his tears be dried.)

  JOANNA. Boots and cloaks, hats forward. Come on, Lady Caroline, just to show you are not afraid of Matey.

  (There is a general exodus, and LOB left alone emerges from his temporary retirement. He ducks victoriously, but presently is on his knees again distressfully regarding some flowers that have fallen from their bowl.)

  LOB. Poor bruised one, it was I who hurt you. Lob is so sorry. Lie there! (To another.) Pretty, pretty, let me see where you have a pain? You fell on your head; is this the place? Now I make it better. Oh, little rascal, you are not hurt at all; you just pretend. Oh dear, oh dear! Sweetheart, don’t cry, you are now prettier than ever. You were too tall. Oh, how beautifully you smell now that you are small. (He replaces the wounded tenderly in their bowl.) rink, drink. Now, you are happy again. The little rascal smiles. All smile, please — nod heads — aha! aha! You love Lob — Lob loves you.

  (JOANNA and MR. PURDIE stroll in by the window.)

  JOANNA. What were you saying to them, Lob?

  LOB. I was saying ‘Two’s company, three’s none.’

  (He departs with a final cluck.)

  JOANNA. That man — he suspects!

  (This is a very different JOANNA from the one who has so far flitted across our scene. It is also a different PURDIE. In company they seldom look at each other, though when the one does so the eyes of the other magnetically respond. We have seen them trivial, almost cynical, but now we are to greet them as they know they really are, the great strong-hearted man and his natural mate, in the grip of the master passion. For the moment LOB’S words have unnerved JOANNA and it is JOHN PURDIE’s dear privilege to soothe her.)

  PURDIE. No one minds Lob. My dear, oh my dear.

  JOANNA (faltering). Yes, but he saw you kiss my hand. Jack, if Mabel were to suspect!

  PURDIE (happily). There is nothing for her to suspect.

  JOANNA (eagerly). No, there isn’t, is there? (She is desirous ever to be without a flaw.) Jack, I am not doing anything wrong, am I?

  PURDIE. You!

  (With an adorable gesture she gives him one of her hands, and manlike he takes the other also.)

  JOANNA. Mabel is your wife, Jack. I should so hate myself if I did anything that was disloyal to her.

  PURDIE (pressing her hand to her eyes as if counting them, in the strange manner of lovers). Those eyes could never be disloyal — my lady of the nut-brown eyes. (He holds her from him, surveying her, and is scorched in the flame of her femininity.) Oh, the sveldtness of you. (Almost with reproach.) Joanna, why are you so sveldt!

  (For his sake she would be less sveldt if she could, but she can’t. She admits her failure with eyes grown still larger, and he envelops her so that he may not see her. Thus men seek safety.)

  JOANNA (while out of sight). All I want is to help her and you.

  PURDIE. I know — how well I know — my dear brave love.

  JOANNA. I am very fond of Mabel, Jack. I should like to be the best friend she has in the world.

  PURDIE. You are, dearest. No woman ever had a better friend.

  JOANNA. And yet I don’t think she really likes me. I wonder why?

  PURDIE (who is the bigger brained of the two.) It is just that Mabel doesn’t understand. Nothing could make me say a word against my wife.

  JOANNA (sternly). I wouldn’t listen to you if you did.

  PURDIE. I love you all the more, dear, for saying that. But Mabel is a cold nature and she doesn’t understand.

  JOANNA (thinking never of herself but only of him). She doesn’t appreciate your finer qualities.

  PURDIE (ruminating). That’s it. But of course I am difficult. I always was a strange, strange creature. I often think, Joanna, that I am rather like a flower that has never had the sun to shine on it nor the rain to water it.

  JOANNA. You break my heart.

  PURDIE (with considerable enjoyment). I suppose there is no more lonely man than I walking the earth to-day.

  JOANNA (beating her wings). It is so mournful.

  PURDIE. It is the thought of you that sustains me, elevates me. You shine high above me like a star.

  JOANNA. No, no. I wish I was wonderful, but I am not.

  PURDIE. You have made me a better man, Joanna.

  JOANNA. I am so proud to think that.

  PURDIE. You have made me kinder to Mabel.

  JOANNA. I am sure you are always kind to her.

  PURDIE. Yes, I hope so. But I think now of special little ways of giving her pleasure. That never-to-be-forgotten day when we first met, you and I!

  JOANNA
(fluttering nearer to him.) That tragic, lovely day by the weir. Oh, Jack!

  PURDIE. Do you know how in gratitude I spent the rest of that day?

  JOANNA (crooning). Tell me.

  PURDIE. I read to Mabel aloud for an hour. I did it out of kindness to her, because I had met you.

  JOANNA. It was dear of you.

  PURDIE. Do you remember that first time my arms — your waist — you are so fluid, Joanna. (Passionately.) Why are you so fluid?

  JOANNA (downcast). I can’t help it, Jack.

  PURDIE. I gave her a ruby bracelet for that.

  JOANNA. It is a gem. You have given that lucky woman many lovely things.

  PURDIE. It is my invariable custom to go straight off and buy Mabel something whenever you have been sympathetic to me. Those new earrings of hers — they are in memory of the first day you called me Jack. Her Paquin gown — the one with the beads — was because you let me kiss you.

  JOANNA. I didn’t exactly let you.

  PURDIE. No, but you have such a dear way of giving in.

  JOANNA. Jack, she hasn’t worn that gown of late.

  PURDIE. No, nor the jewels. I think she has some sort of idea now that when I give her anything nice it means that you have been nice to me. She has rather a suspicious nature, Mabel; she never used to have it, but it seems to be growing on her. I wonder why, I wonder why?

  (In this wonder which is shared by JOANNA their lips meet, and MABEL, who has been about to enter from the garden quietly retires.)

  JOANNA. Was that any one in the garden?

  PURDIE (returning from a quest). There is no one there now.

  JOANNA. I am sure I heard some one. If it was Mabel! (With a perspicacity that comes of knowledge of her sex.) Jack, if she saw us she will think you were kissing me.

  (These fears are confirmed by the rather odd bearing of MABEL, who now joins their select party.)

  MABEL (apologetically). I am so sorry to interrupt you, Jack; but please wait a moment before you kiss her again. Excuse me, Joanna. (She quietly draws the curtains, thus shutting out the garden and any possible onlooker.) I did not want the others to see you; they might not understand how noble you are, Jack. You can go on now.

  (Having thus passed the time of day with them she withdraws by the door, leaving JACK bewildered and JOANNA knowing all about it.)

  JOANNA. How extraordinary! Of all the — ! Oh, but how contemptible! (She sweeps to the door and calls to MABEL by name.)

  MABEL (returning with promptitude). Did you call me, Joanna?

  JOANNA (guardedly). I insist on an explanation. (With creditable hauteur.) What were you doing in the garden, Mabel?

  MABEL (who has not been so quiet all day). I was looking for something I have lost.

  PURDIE (hope springing eternal). Anything important?

  MABEL. I used to fancy it, Jack. It is my husband’s love. You don’t happen to have picked it up, Joanna? If so and you don’t set great store by it I should like it back — the pieces, I mean.

  (MR. PURDIE is about lo reply to this, when JOANNA rather wisely fills the breach.)

  JOANNA. Mabel, I — I will not be talked to in that way. To imply that I — that your husband — oh, shame!

  PURDIE (finely). I must say, Mabel, that I am a little disappointed in you. I certainly understood that you had gone upstairs to put on your boots.

  MABEL. Poor old Jack. (She muses.) A woman like that!

  JOANNA (changing her comment in the moment of utterance), I forgive you Mabel, you will be sorry for this afterwards.

  PURDIE (warningly, but still reluctant to think less well of his wife). Not a word against Joanna, Mabel. If you knew how nobly she has spoken of you.

  JOANNA (imprudently). She does know. She has been listening.

  (There is a moment’s danger of the scene degenerating into something mid-Victorian. Fortunately a chivalrous man is present to lift it to a higher plane. JOHN PURDIE is one to whom subterfuge of any kind is abhorrent; if he has not spoken out before it is because of his reluctance to give MABEL pain. He speaks out now, and seldom probably has he proved himself more worthy.)

  PURDIE. This is a man’s business. I must be open with you now, Mabel: it is the manlier way. If you wish it I shall always be true to you in word and deed; it is your right. But I cannot pretend that Joanna is not the one woman in the world for me. If I had met her before you — it’s Kismet, I suppose. (He swells.)

  JOANNA (from a chair). Too late, too late.

  MABEL (although the woman has seen him swell). I suppose you never knew what true love was till you met her, Jack?

  PURDIE. You force me to say it. Joanna and I are as one person. We have not a thought at variance. We are one rather than two.

  MABEL (looking at JOANNA). Yes, and that’s the one! (With the cheapest sarcasm.) I am so sorry to have marred your lives.

  PURDIE. If any blame there is, it is all mine; she is as spotless as the driven snow. The moment I mentioned love to her she told me to desist.

  MABEL. Not she.

  JOANNA. So you were listening! (The obtuseness of MABEL is very strange to her.) Mabel, don’t you see how splendid he is!

  MABEL. Not quite, Joanna.

  (She goes away. She is really a better woman than this, but never capable of scaling that higher plane to which he has, as it were, offered her a hand.)

  JOANNA. How lovely of you, Jack, to take it all upon yourself.

  PURDIE (simply). It is the man’s privilege.

  JOANNA. Mabel has such a horrid way of seeming to put people in the wrong.

  PURDIE. Have you noticed that? Poor Mabel, it is not an enviable quality.

  JOANNA (despondently). I don’t think I care to go out now. She has spoilt it all. She has taken the innocence out of it, Jack.

  PURDIE (a rock). We must be brave and not mind her. Ah, Joanna, if we had met in time. If only I could begin again. To be battered for ever just because I once took the wrong turning, it isn’t fair.

  JOANNA (emerging from his arms). The wrong turning! Now, who was saying that a moment ago — about himself? Why, it was Matey.

  (A footstep is heard.)

  PURDIE (for the first time losing patience with his wife). Is that her coming back again? It’s too bad.

  (But the intruder is MRS. DEARTH, and he greets her with relief.)

  Ah, it is you, Mrs. Dearth.

  ALICE. Yes, it is; but thank you for telling me, Mr. Purdie. I don’t intrude, do I?

  JOANNA (descending to the lower plane, on which even goddesses snap). Why should you?

  PURDIE. Rather not. We were — hoping it would be you. We want to start on the walk. I can’t think what has become of the others. We have been looking for them everywhere. (He glances vaguely round the room, as if they might so far have escaped detection.)

  ALICE (pleasantly). Well, do go on looking; under that flower-pot would be a good place. It is my husband I am in search of.

  PURDIE (who likes her best when they are in different rooms). Shall I rout him out for you?

  ALICE. How too unutterably kind of you, Mr. Purdie. I hate to trouble you, but it would be the sort of service one never forgets.

  PURDIE. You know, I believe you are chaffing me.

  ALICE. No, no, I am incapable of that.

  PURDIE. I won’t be a moment.

  ALICE. Miss Trout and I will await your return with ill-concealed impatience.

  (They await it across a table, the newcomer in a reverie and JOANNA watching her. Presently MRS. DEARTH looks up, and we may notice that she has an attractive screw of the mouth which denotes humour.)

  Yes, I suppose you are right; I dare say I am.

  JOANNA (puzzled). I didn’t say anything.

  ALICE. I thought I heard you say ‘That hateful Dearth woman, coming butting in where she is not wanted.’

  (Joanna draws up her sveldt figure, but a screw of one mouth often calls for a similar demonstration from another, and both ladies smile. They nearly become friends.)


  JOANNA. You certainly have good ears.

  ALICE (drawling). Yes, they have always been rather admired.