AT THE CONFECTIONER'S.
(A Sketch on Saturday Afternoon.)
Scene.—A Confectioner's Shop in a fashionable West-End thoroughfare. Close to the window is a counter, with the usual urns and appurtenances, laden with an assortment of richly decorated pastry, and presided over by an alert and short-tempered Manageress. The little tables are close together, and crowded with Customers, the majority of whom are ladies. A couple of over-worked Waitresses are endeavouring, with but indifferent success, to satisfy everybody at once.
Cries from Customers. Yes, two teas and one roll and butter—no, I mean, one roll and butter and two teas! "Have I ordered?" Why, the last time you said it was coming directly! Isn't that chocolate ready yet? We shall never catch our train! I say, Waitress, I ordered coffee and cakes a quarter of an hour ago, and all we've got yet is two empty cups and a bowl of sugar! Do make haste with that tea! I didn't say a cup of tea—I said a pot of tea, as plain as——! (&c., &c.)
Duet of Waitresses. Yes, Sir, attend to you in one moment. Are you the cup of tea, Madam? Oh, I'll bring you a fork for your pastry directly. There'll be some milk coming in a minute, Sir. Bread and butter? No, Sir, you can have a roll and butter, or cakes, if you prefer them. Excuse me, Madam, when I've done attending to this lady. No, Sir; it was the other young lady who took your order—not me. Would you mind letting me have the milk-jug, if you've finished with it, Madam? We're rather short of them. I'll see if I can get you a teaspoon, Sir. (&c., &c.)
The Manageress (all in one breath, without any stops). Now then Miss Simpson don't you see these cups standing here ready to be taken and there's that Gentleman in the corner waiting to be attended to and tell Mrs. Binks we shall want more milk and there put out those fancy cakes do two chocolates Miss Jones well you can't have them yet because I've used all the hot water what does the girl want next butter it's no use coming to me for butter here take those cups to be washed up will you you leave me to look after everythink myself and customers leaving because they can't get served I declare I never saw such girls as you are in all my born days!
A Man from the Lyceum. I'm not sure, after all, that Irving's finest moment wasn't in that last scene. I mean, when Fitzurse and those fellows came in, and he——
First Lady (at adjoining table—from the Aquarium Theatre). Sat up on his dear tail, and struck out with those long hind legs of his, sweet thing; he took such an interest in it all, didn't he?
Second Lady (on opposite side of table—who has been to "Hypatia"). Oh, and didn't she look distractingly lovely just after she had finished lecturing; you know, when she——
Third L. (close by, fresh from "Charley's Aunt"). Stepped out of the gown, and walked about in the old Lady's cap and false front! I quite cried with laughing!
Second L. I liked the Proconsul—dear me, what was his name? So stupid of me—but it doesn't matter! I thought he looked so perfectly Byzantine when he came in with his lictors in the litter——
Third L. And played the piano so beautifully!
Second Hypatian L. And didn't you think Tree was very good?—that part where he found out about his daughter, and stood towering over her with a knife in his hand, and——
Third L. That enormous cigar stuck in his mouth—he was simply too killing! [And so on.
Miss Camille Leon (by voiceless motion of her lips, and expressive pantomime, for the guidance of her fiancé, Mr. Fred Forridge, who has gone to the counter to select dainties for her refection). No, not those—in the next dish—with chocolate outside ... no the long ones—oh, how stupid you are! Yes, if those are preserved cherries on the iced sugar. Very well, the pink one, then—that will do.
Mr. Forridge (returning with a loaded plate). I hope I've got what you wanted?
Miss C. L. Just what I like—how clever of you! (She helps herself, after dainty deliberation.) Quite delicious! Aren't you going to have any yourself?
Mr. Forr. (engaged in exploring his left-hand pocket surreptitiously, with a troubled expression). Oh, thanks—presently, perhaps. (To himself.) I must have more than that somewhere!
Miss C. L. (gaily). I advise you to make haste—or there'll be none left. They're too seductive for words. [She chooses another.
Mr. Forr. (to himself). It is one-and-sixpence. Fool I was to go and forget my sovereign-purse! However—(hopefully), two cups of tea at fourpence—eightpence; say three cakes at twopence—one-and-twopence—oh, I shall manage it easily, and leave a margin! (Aloud.) I think I won't have anything to eat—not hungry, don't you know.
Miss C. L. No more am I! (She takes a third cake.) This has got cream inside—aren't you tempted?
Mr. Forr. (to himself.) Only fourpence to the good now—mustn't risk it! (Aloud.) Couldn't indeed—spoil my appetite for dinner.
Miss C. L. (with superiority). Oh, I never have any appetite for dinner. I loathe the very sight of food, somehow! But I do wish you'd eat something—it's so piggish of you not to—really it is! You must take just this weeny little one—to please Me! (She places it on his plate.) Now you can't say no!
Mr. Forr. (to himself). She is the dearest darling! (Aloud.) I'd do anything in the world to please you, Camille! (To himself.) After all, there's still twopence!
Miss C. L. Good boy! (As he eats.) Well, is it a success?
Mr. Forr. (munching). It isn't bad—got Marchpane, or something of the kind on it.
Miss C. L. How nice! I adore Marchpane! You may go and get me one just like it, if you're very good.
Mr. Forr. (to himself, as he obeys her behest). That cleans me out! Thank goodness, no gratuities are allowed here, or else—and this must be the last—she's had three already! If I'd only had another sixpence, I shouldn't care, but this is running it devilish close! (Aloud, as he returns.) This is the nearest I could get.
Miss C. L. Thanks, ever so much. Awfully nice tea this is. (Suggestively.) They might give one bigger cups, though!
Mr. Forr. (to himself, with pathos). I'd give my life for her, cheerfully—and I've got to deny her a second cup of tea! But hang it, I must. I can't ask her to lend me fourpence to pay the bill! (Aloud.) It's—er—just as well they don't. My sisters have sworn off afternoon tea altogether; some medical Johnny told them it—er—had a tendency to make the nose red!
Miss C. L. (to herself). Fred's sisters! Very likely! (Aloud, coldly.) If you think there is any danger of that in my case, of course I won't risk another cup.
Mr. Forr. Oh—er—well, you never know, don't you know. I—er—wouldn't. (To himself.) Narrow shave that, by Jove!
Miss C. L. I think we'd better take a cab back, don't you?
Mr. Forr. (horrified). M—much jollier walking. Streets as dry as a bone!
Miss C. L. But I want to get home and arrange the table for dinner to-night. Mother always likes me to do the flowers.
Mr. Forr. Lots of time for that You c—can't judge of the effect till it's dark, can you? And it will be light for hours to come.
Miss C. L. Yes, that's true. Then suppose we go and see the Burne-Joneses, now we're so near? They don't close till six.
Mr. Forr. (to himself). It would have been jolly; but, half-a-crown, when I can't even run to a catalogue! No! (Aloud.) It—it's getting so dark—can't do 'em justice by artificial light, do you think? And—well, to tell you the honest truth, Camille, after the Old Masters, you know—I—I don't feel—and I have seen them, you know!
Miss C. L. (pouting). I thought you might have cared to see them again—with Me—but it doesn't in the least matter ... Fred, I don't care about this cake you got me—it's dull. I think I shall leave it, and try one of these white-and-green ones instead. [She does.
Mr. Forr. (to himself—with a beaded brow). Broke! And for an extra twopence! As likely as not, she hasn't even got her purse with her. And she'll think I'm so beastly mean! Why on earth didn't I let her go to the Aërated Bread-shop, as she wanted? It would have been all right then!
Miss C. L. I'm afraid you're rather bored, Fred—you don't seem to be enjoying yourself quite; do you?
Mr. Forr. (in agony). Oh, I am—I'm all right, Camille, only I—I'm always like this after the Old Masters, you know.
Miss C. L. So sorry I made you bring me—don't you think we had better pay, and go home?
Mr. Forr. (to himself). Now for it! (He pulls himself together.) W—waitress, w—what have I to pay, please?
Waitress. Two teas, eightpence; one, two—six cakes you've had, I think, Sir? One-and-eightpence altogether.
Mr. Forr. (with a gasp). Oh! (He fetches up two coins abjectly from his pocket). I—I'm sorry to say that I—I've o—only one shilling and (with a start of intense relief) half-a-sovereign, so (with recovered dignity) I'm afraid I must ask you to give me change. (To Miss C. L.) I—I was only joking about the Burne-Joneses, darling, I'd like to see them awfully—with you. And we can walk home through the Park, or take a cab afterwards, just as you feel about it. Do say you'll come!
[Miss Leon graciously consents, and Mr. Forridge follows her out of the shop with restored equanimity, as Scene closes in.
