UNDER THE ROSE.
(A Story in Scenes.)
Scene XVIII.—The Drawing-room, as before. The door opens, and Phœbe appears.
Phœbe (to Mrs. Toovey). If you please, ma'am, Mrs. Cumberbatch——
Mrs. Toovey (in a rapid whisper). Not here, Phœbe! Show her into the study—anywhere. Say I'll come!
Phœbe. She said she hadn't time to come in, m'm; she left her compliments, and just called to let you know the Banana Meeting will be next Friday. And oh, if you please, m'm, I wished to ask you about that dress you wore last Saturday. I've tried everything, and I can't get the smell of tobaccer out of it, do what I will, m'm. (To herself.) That'll teach her not to accuse me of hiding followers downstairs!
Althea (to herself). Mine had to be left all night in a thorough draught. Where could Mamma have been, unless——?
Mrs. Toov. (with dignity). I came home in a smoky cab, and you know perfectly well this is not the place to ask me such questions. Leave the room!
Phœbe (to herself, as she leaves). A smoky cab indeed! There's no smoke without fire—as Master will find out before long!
Charles. Had your cabman been giving a smoking party inside his fourwheeler, or what, Aunt?
Mrs. Toov. I don't—yes, I believe he had. He apologised for it; it—it was his birthday. (To herself.) Oh, dear me, what makes me tell these dreadful stories?
Mr. Toovey. His birthday! Why, if you remember, Cornelia, you said the man had been drinking. That would account for it! But did I understand there was to be another Zenana Meeting, my love? That seems rather soon, does it not, after having one only last Saturday!
Mrs. Toov. (to herself). I must go on, or he'll suspect something. (Aloud, severely.) And why not, Pa—pray, why not? You know what an energetic creature Mrs. Cumberbatch is! Can we do too much for those poor benighted heathen women? And there was a great deal that we had to leave unfinished the other evening.
Mr. Toov. Dear me, and you were home so late, too!
Mrs. Toov. Perhaps you disbelieve my word, Pa? If you do, say so, and I shall know what to think! Though what I've done to deserve such suspicion——
Mr. Toov. (astounded). My own love, I never for one single moment—— Hem, the wife of Cæsar is above suspicion.
Mrs. Toov. (with relief). I should hope so, Theophilus; not that you are Cæsar—but there, that is enough of a very painful subject. Let us say no more about it.
Curphew (to himself). I'm more certain every moment that this immaculate matron is lying like a prospectus, but what can I do? I've no proof, and if I had, I couldn't bring myself to—— Well, I must wait, that's all.
Mrs. Toov. What I should like to know is, why Mr. Curphew still remains here after we have distinctly informed him that we do not desire his further acquaintance?
Curph. Before I go, let me say this: that I have no intention of giving up your daughter until she gives up me. I am in a position to marry and support her, and if you refuse your consent, you will only reduce us to the painful necessity of doing without it.
[Althea intimates her entire acquiescence in this ultimatum.
Mrs. Toov. We will never consent to give our daughter to a notorious music-hall singer—never!
Curph. That objection is easily met. I am no longer a music-hall singer. I have left the profession for ever; not that I consider it any disgrace to belong to it, but I prefer to live by my pen in future. (To Mr. T.) I appeal to you, Sir. You had no objection before; what can you have now?
[Mr. T. opens his lips inaudibly.
"Well, Ma'am, this is the last place I expected to find you in!"
Mrs. Toov. Tell him, Pa, that in the circle in which we move, the remotest connection with—with a music-hall would be justly considered as an indelible disgrace.
Charles (sotto voce). No, hang it, Uncle! It's no business of mine, and I'm not going to shove my oar in; but still you know as well as I do that you can't decently take that line, whatever Aunt may do!
Mrs. Toov. I heard you, Charles. So, Pa, there is something you have been hiding from me? I felt positive there was some mystery about that box. Now I will know it. Althea, leave us!
Mr. Toov. There is nothing she had better not hear—now, my love. It—it's true I would rather have kept it from you, but I'd better tell you—I'd better tell you. The fact is that, without being in the least aware of it—I was under the impression I was investing in a gold-mine—I—I became the proprietor of several shares in the Eldorado Music-hall.
Curph. (surprised). You, Sir! you were a shareholder all the time! Is it possible?
Mr. Toov. (bewildered). Why, but you knew! I consulted you at the Junction about whether I ought to retain the shares or not, and you advised me to go and judge for myself!
Curph. I assure you I thought we were talking about my connection with the Eldorado, not yours.
Mrs. Toov. So, Pa, by your own story you found yourself in possession of those horrible wicked shares, and you actually hesitated what to do! You considered it necessary to—to visit the scene!
Mr. Toov. Indeed. I never actually went, my love. And—and Mr. Curphew assured me the establishment was quite respectably conducted, under the supervision of the London County Council; and then there was the dividend—seventy per cent. on only five hundred pounds—three hundred and fifty a year, Cornelia; it—it seemed a pity to give it up!
Mrs. Toov. (to herself, impressed). Three hundred and fifty a year! Why we can keep our carriage on it! (Aloud.) Well, Pa, of course—as you bought the shares under a misapprehension—and I'm bound to say this for the Eldorado, that there was nothing positively objectionable in the performance so far as I could—(correcting herself hastily)—have ever been given to understand—why, I'm the last to blame you.
Mr. Toov. (overjoyed). Ah, my dear love! I scarcely dared to hope for this leniency. But I never would have gone—oh, never. Why, I could never have looked you in the face again if I had!
Mrs. Toov. (with a twinge). That depends, Pa; it is quite possible to go to such places, and yet——
Mr. Toov. Yes, but you see I didn't go, my dear. I found I couldn't really bring myself to visit it when it came to the point, so I went to call on Larkins instead, as it was on his advice I had taken the shares, and I told him my difficulty, and he quite sympathised with my scruples, and most good-naturedly offered to take them off my hands.
Mrs. Toov. But surely, Theophilus, you never gave up three hundred and fifty a year without so much as consulting Me!
Charles. You can't count on such dividends as a certainty, you know, Aunt, and I've no doubt Uncle got rid of them at a very good figure; they've been going up like sky-rockets!
Mrs. Toov. (mollified). Of course if your Uncle did that, I——
Mr. Toov. Well, you see, my love, Charles very properly pointed out to me that there was no moral difference between that and keeping the shares, and—and Larkins took the same view himself; so (I'm sure, Cornelia, you will consider I have only done what was my strict duty!) I agreed to surrender the shares for just what I paid for them—five hundred pounds—and my conscience is clear.
Mrs. Toov. If it's no clearer than your head, Pa—— I never heard of such downright Quixotism! As if you could be held responsible; as if anyone here need know! I call it folly—sheer ruinous folly!
Phœbe (opening the door—to Mr. T.). A young gentleman to see you, Sir; says he comes from Mr. Larkins, with a paper to be filled up. I've shown him into the study, Sir.
Mr. Toov. Ah, to be sure, yes; tell him I'll come. (To Mrs. T.) It's about those shares; Larkins said he would send a clerk down to complete the transfer.
Mrs. Toov. So it isn't completed yet? Mr. Larkins has been trying to get the better of you, Pa; but it's not too late, fortunately. (To Phœbe.) Show the young man in here. I wish to see him about this business. (As Phœbe goes.) I shall insist on the fair market value of the shares being paid before you put your signature to any document whatever; leave this entirely to me, Pa. I think I shall be a match for any young——
Phœbe (returning). Mr. Jannaway.
Mr. Jann. (to Mr. Toovey). From Mr. Larkins, Sir. Brought a transfer-deed for your signature.
Mrs. Toov. (to herself). Gracious goodness! It's the man whose ears I boxed at the Eldorado! What shall I do?
[She seizes the current number of "The Quiver," and retires behind it.
Alth. (to herself). He's awfully like the young man in that box on Saturday! If Mamma really was there! (She glances at Mrs. T., in whose hands "The Quiver" is rustling audibly.) Ah, then I wasn't mistaken. Oh, how dreadful if he should recognise her!
Mr. Toov. My signature? Yes, yes, yes, to be sure, just so; but the fact is, I—I've been thinking over the matter, and—and—but that lady by the window will explain my views.
Mrs. Toov. (in a muffled voice, from behind "The Quiver"). I—I shall do nothing of the sort. I—I'm busy. Sign whatever the young man wants, Pa, and don't bother me about it!
Mr. Jann. (to himself). That's rum. Where have I heard that voice? And "Pa," too! Very rum!
Mr. Toov. Oh, very well, my love; I only thought—but I'll sign. I'll sign. Only, I rather fancy you're sitting just in front of the writing materials, my dear.
Mr. Jann. (gallantly). Allow me! (He goes towards Mrs. T.'s chair. "The Quiver" treacherously collapses at the critical moment; their eyes meet.) Well, ma'am, this is the last place I expected to find you in; after 'unting for you the entire Sunday afternoon all over Upper Tooting, too!
[General sensation. Tableau.