Complete Works of J. M. Barrie

by Unknown

  MR. AMY. I’ve got it. I am a poor man, but I thought ten pounds wasn’t too much for a Gainsborough.

  (The devil now has them both.)

  MR. MORLAND. Ten pounds! Is it signed?

  MR. AMY. No, it isn’t signed.

  MR. MORLAND (almost his friend again). Ah!

  MR. AMY. What do you precisely mean by that ‘Ah,’ James? If it had been signed, could I have got it for ten pounds? You are always speaking about your flair; I suppose I can have a little flair sometimes too.

  MR. MORLAND. I am not always speaking about my flair, and I don’t believe it is a Gainsborough.

  MR. AMY (with dignity). Please don’t get hot, James. If I had thought you would grudge me my little find — which you missed — I wouldn’t have brought it to show you.

  (With shocking exultation he produces a roll of paper.)

  MR MORLAND (backing from it). So that’s it.

  MR. AMY. This is it. (The squire has to examine it like a Christian.) There! I have the luck this time. I hope you will have it next. (The exultation passes from the one face into the other.)

  MR. MORLAND. Interesting, George — quite. But definitely not a Gainsborough.

  MR. AMY. I say definitely a Gainsborough.

  MR. MORLAND. Definitely not a Gainsborough.

  (By this time the needles have entered into the controversy, but they are disregarded.) I should say the work of a clever amateur.

  MR. AMY. Look at the drawing of the cart and the figure beside it.

  MR. MORLAND. Weak and laboured. Look at that horse.

  MR. AMY. Gainsborough did some very funny horses.

  MR. MORLAND. Granted, but he never placed them badly. That horse destroys the whole balance of the composition.

  MR. AMY. James, I had no idea you had such a small nature.

  MR. MORLAND. I don’t like that remark; for your sake I don’t like it. No one would have been more pleased than myself if you had picked up a Gainsborough. But this! Besides, look at the paper.

  MR. AMY. What is wrong with the paper, Mr. Morland?

  MR. MORLAND. It is machine-made. Gainsborough was in his grave years before that paper was made.

  (After further inspection mr amy is convinced against his will, and the find is returned to his pocket less carefully than it had been produced.)

  Don’t get into a tantrum about it, George.

  MR. AMY (grandly). I am not in a tantrum, and I should be obliged if you wouldn’t George me. Smile on, Mr. Morland, I congratulate you on your triumph; you have hurt an old friend to the quick. Bravo, bravo. Thank you, Mrs. Morland, for a very pleasant visit. Good-day.

  MRS. MORLAND (prepared). I shall see you into your coat, George.

  MR. AMY. I thank you, Mrs. Morland, but I need no one to see me into my coat. Good-day.

  (He goes, and she blandly follows him. She returns with the culprit.)

  MRS. MORLAND. NOW which of you is to say it first?

  MR. AMY. James, I am heartily ashamed of myself.

  MR. MORLAND. George, I apologise.

  MR. AMY. I quite see that it isn’t a Gainsborough.

  MR. MORLAND. After all, it’s certainly in the Gainsborough school.

  (They clasp hands sheepishly, but the peacemaker helps the situation by showing a roguish face, and mr amy departs shaking a humorous fist at her.)

  MRS MORLAND. I coughed so often, James; and you must have heard me clicking.

  MR. MORLAND. I heard all right. Good old George! It’s a pity he has no flair. He might as well order his prints by wireless.

  MRS. MORLAND. What is that?

  MR. MORLAND. Wireless it’s to be called. There is an article about it in that paper. The fellow says that before many years have passed we shall be able to talk to ships on the ocean.

  MRS MORLAND (who has resumed her knitting). Nonsense, James.

  MR. MORLAND. Of course it’s nonsense. And yet there is no denying, as he says, that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy.

  MRS. MORLAND (becoming grave). You and I know that to be true, James.

  (For a moment he does not know to what she is referring.)

  MR MORLAND (edging away from trouble). Oh, that. My dear, that is all dead and done with long ago.

  MRS. MORLAND (thankfully). Yes. But sometimes when I look at Mary Rose — so happy —

  MR. MORLAND. She will never know anything about it.

  MRS. MORLAND. No, indeed. But some day she will fall in love —

  MR. MORLAND (wriggling). That infant! Fanny, is it wise to seek trouble before it comes?

  MRS. MORLAND. She can’t marry, James, without your first telling the man. We agreed.

  MR. MORLAND. Yes, I supppose I must — though I’m not certain I ought to. Sleeping dogs — Still, I’ll keep my word, I’ll tell him everything.

  MRS. MORLAND. Poor Mary Rose.

  MR. MORLAND (manfully). Now then, none of that. Where is she now?

  MRS. MORLAND. Down at the boat-house with Simon, I think.

  MR. MORLAND. That is all right. Let her play about with Simon and the like. It may make a tomboy of her, but it will keep young men out of her head.

  (She wonders at his obtuseness.)

  MRS. MORLAND. You still think of Simon as a boy?

  MR. MORLAND. Bless the woman, he is only a midshipman.

  MRS. MORLAND. A sub-lieutenant now.

  MR. MORLAND. Same thing. Why, Fanny, I still tip him. At least I did a year ago. And he liked it: ‘Thanks no end, you are a trump,’ he said, and then slipped behind the screen to see how much it was.

  MRS. MORLAND. He is a very delightful creature; but he isn’t a boy any more.

  MR. MORLAND. It’s not nice of you to put such ideas into my head. I’ll go down to the boat-house at once. If this new invention was in working order, Fanny, I could send him packing without rising from my seat. I should simply say from this sofa, ‘Is my little Mary Rose there?’ (To their surprise there is an answer from mary rose unseen.)

  MARY ROSE (in a voice more quaking than is its wont). I’m here, Daddy.

  MR. MORLAND (rising). Where are you, Mary Rose?

  MARY ROSE. I am in the apple-tree.

  (mrs morland smiles and is going to the window, but her husband checks her with a further exhibition of the marvel of the future.)

  MR. MORLAND. What are you doing in the apple-tree, hoyden?

  MARY ROSE. I’m hiding.

  MR. MORLAND. From Simon?

  MARY ROSE. No; I’m not sure whom I’m hiding from. From myself, I think. Daddy, I’m frightened.

  MR. MORLAND. What has frightened you? Simon?

  MARY ROSE. Yes — partly.

  MR. MORLAND. Who else?

  MARY ROSE. I am most afraid of my daddy.

  MR MORLAND (rather flattered). Of me?

  (If there is anything strange about this girl of eighteen who steps from the tree into the room, it is an elusiveness of which she is unaware. It has remained hidden from her girl friends, though in the after years, in the brief space before they forget her, they will probably say, because of what happened, that there was always something a little odd about mary rose. This oddness might be expressed thus, that the happiness and glee of which she is almost overfull know of another attribute of her that never plays with them. There is nothing splendid about mary rose, never can she become one of those secret women so much less innocent than she, yet perhaps so much sweeter in the kernel, who are the bane or glory, or the bane and glory, of greater lovers than she could ever understand. She is just a rare and lovely flower, far less fitted than those others for the tragic rôle. She butts her head into mrs morland with a childish impulsiveness that might overthrow a less accustomed bosom.)

  MARY ROSE (telling everything). Mother!

  MR. MORLAND. You don’t mean that anything has really frightened you, Mary Rose?

  MARY ROSE. I am not sure. Hold me tight, Mother.

  MRS. MORLAND. Darling, has Simon been dist
urbing you?

  MARY ROSE (liking this way of putting it). Yes, he has. It is all Simon’s fault.

  MR MORLAND. But you said you were afraid even of me.

  MARY ROSE. You are the only one.

  MR MORLAND. Is this some game? Where is Simon?

  MARY ROSE (in little mouthfuls). He is at the foot of the tree. He is not coming up by the tree. He wants to come in by the door. That shows how important it is.

  MR MORLAND. What is?

  MARY ROSE. You see, his leave is up tomorrow, and he — wants to see you, Daddy, before he goes.

  MR. MORLAND. I am sure he does. And I know why. I told you, Fanny. Mary Rose, do you see my purse lying about?

  MARY ROSE. Your purse, Dad?

  MR MORLAND. Yes, you gosling. There is A fiver in it, and that is what Master Simon wants to see me about.

  (mary rose again seeks her mother’s breast.)

  MRS MORLAND. Oh, James! Dearest, tell me what Simon has been saying to you; whisper it, my love.

  (MARY ROSE whispers.)

  Yes, I thought it was that.

  MARY ROSE. I am frightened to tell Daddy.

  MRS. MORLAND. James, you may as well be told bluntly; it isn’t your fiver that Simon wants, it is your daughter.

  (mr morland is aghast, and mary rose rushes into his arms to help him in this terrible hour.)

  MARY ROSE (as the injured party). You will scold him, won’t you, Dad?

  MR. MORLAND (vainly trying to push her from him). By — by — by the — by all that is horrible I’ll do more than scold him. The puppy, I’ll — I’ll —

  MARY ROSE (entreating). Not more than scold him, Daddy — not more. Mary Rose couldn’t bear it if it was more.

  MR. MORLAND (blankly). You are not in love with Simon, are you?

  MARY ROSE. Oh-h-h-h!

  (She makes little runnings from the one parent to the other, carrying kisses for the wounds.)

  Daddy, I am so awfully sorry that this has occurred. Mummy, what can we do? (She cries.)

  MRS. MORLAND (soothing her). My own, my pet. But he is only a boy, Mary Rose, just a very nice boy.

  MARY ROSE (awed). Mother, that is the wonderful, wonderful thing. He was just a boy — I quite understand that — he was a mere boy till to-day; and then, Daddy, he suddenly changed; all at once he became a man. It was while he was — telling me. You will scarcely know him now, Mother.

  MRS. MORLAND. Darling, he breakfasted with us; I think I shall know him still.

  MARY ROSE. He is quite different from breakfasttime. He doesn’t laugh any more, he would never think of capsizing the punt intentionally now, he has grown so grave, so manly, so — so protective, he thinks of everything now, of freeholds and leaseholds, and gravel soil, and hot and cold, and the hire system.

  (She cries again, but her eyes are sparkling through the rain.)

  MR MORLAND (with spirit). He has got as far as that, has he! Does he propose that this marriage should take place tomorrow?

  MARY ROSE (eager to soften the blow). Oh no, not for quite a long time. At earliest, not till his next leave.

  MRS. MORLAND. MARY ROSE!

  MARY ROSE. He is waiting down there, Mummy. May I bring him in?

  MRS. MORLAND. Of course, dearest.

  MR. MORLAND. Don’t come with him, though.

  MARY ROSE. Oh! (She wonders what this means.) You know how shy Simon is.

  MR. MORLAND.! DO NOT.

  MRS. MORLAND. Your father and I must have a talk with him alone, you see.

  MARY ROSE. I — I suppose so. He so wants to do the right thing, Mother.

  MRS. MORLAND. I am sure he does.

  MARY ROSE. DO you mind my going upstairs into the appleroom and sometimes knocking on the floor? I think it would be a help to him to know I am so near by.

  MRS. MORLAND. It would be a help to all of us, my sweet.

  MARY ROSE (plaintively). You — you won’t try to put him against me, Daddy?

  MR. MORLAND. I would try my hardest if I thought I had any chance.

  (When she has gone they are a somewhat forlorn pair.)

  Poor old mother!

  MRS. MORLAND. Poor old father! There couldn’t be a nicer boy, though.

  MR MORLAND. No, but — (He has a distressing thought.)

  MRS. MORLAND (quietly). Yes, there’s that.

  MR. MORLAND. It got me on the quick when she said, ‘You won’t try to put him against me, Daddy’ — because that is just what I suppose I have got to do.

  MRS. MORLAND. He must be told.

  MR. MORLAND (weakly). Fanny, let us keep it to ourselves.

  MRS. MORLAND. It would not be fair to him.

  MR. MORLAND. No, it wouldn’t. (Testily) He will be an ass if it bothers him.

  MRS. MORLAND (timidly). Yes.

  (simon comes in, a manly youth of twenty-three in naval uniform. Whether he has changed much since breakfasttime we have no means of determining, but he is sufficiently attractive to make one hope that there will be no further change in the immediate future. He seems younger even than his years, because he is trying to look as if a decade or so had passed since the incident of the boat-house and he were now a married man of approved standing. He has come with honeyed words upon his lips, but suddenly finds that he is in the dock. His judges survey him silently, and he can only reply with an idiotic but perhaps ingratiating laugh.)

  SIMON. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! (He ceases uncomfortably, like one who has made his statement.)

  MR. MORLAND. You will need to say more than that, you know, Simon, to justify your conduct.

  MRS. MORLAND. Oh, Simon, how could you!

  SIMON (with a sinking). It seems almost like stealing.

  MR. MORLAND. It is stealing.

  SIMON (prudently). Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

  (From the ceiling there comes a gentle tapping, as from a senior officer who is indicating that England expects her lieutenant this day to do his duty, simon inflates.)

  It is beastly hard on you, of course; but if you knew what Mary Rose is!

  MRS. MORLAND (pardonably). We feel that even we know to some extent what Mary Rose is.

  SIMON (tacking). Yes, rather; and so you can see how it has come about. (This effort cheers him.) I would let myself be cut into little chips for her 3 I should almost like it. (With a brief glance at his misspent youth.) Perhaps you have thought that I was a rather larky sort in the past?

  MR. MORLAND (sarcastically). We see an extraordinary change in you, Simon.

  SIMON (eagerly). Have you noticed that? Mary Rose has noticed it too. That is my inner man coming out. (Carefully)

  To some young people marriage is a thing to be entered on lightly, but that is not my style. What I want is to give up larks, and all that, and insure my life, and read the political articles.

  (Further knocking from above reminds him of something else.)

  Yes, and I promise you it won’t be like losing a daughter but like gaining a son.

  MRS. MORLAND. Did Mary Rose tell you to say that?

  SIMON (guiltily). Well — (Tap, tap.) Oh, another thing, I should consider it well worth being married to Mary Rose just to have you, Mrs. Morland, for a motherin-law.

  MR. MORLAND (pleased). Well said, Simon; I like you the better for that.

  MRS. MORLAND (a demon). Did she tell you to say that also?

  SIMON. Well — At any rate, never shall I forget the respect and affection I owe to the parents of my beloved wife.

  MR. MORLAND. She is not your wife yet, you know.

  SIMON (handsomely). No, she isn’t But can she be? Mrs. Morland, can she be?

  MRS. MORLAND. That is as may be, Simon. It is only a possible engagement that we are discussing at present.

  SIMON. Yes, yes, of course. (Becoming more difficult to resist as his reason goes.) I used to be careless about money, but I have thought of a trick of writing the word Economy in the inside of my watch, so that I’ll see it every time I wind up. My people —

  MR.
MORLAND. We like them, Simon.

  (The tapping is resumed.)