Mary Broome: A Comedy, in Four Acts

by Allan Monkhouse

ADA. Let me see, Sheila.

SHEILA. No, that’s why I want everything to be nice. Instead of all those chances I want one delightful reality. A sweet little tea caddy; that’s two; the other was bigger. One delightful reality, Edgar. You’ve got to see to that.

EDGAR. Oh! I’ll make a jolly good husband.

SHEILA. I wasn’t thinking of that. I was only thinking of the wedding. One thing at a time. I want to have the prettiest wedding that ever was. Something that I can look back to. No hitches and stupidities and uglinesses.

ADA. Some people like Indian tea. You could have Indian tea in that one.

[Enter MARY BROOME, the housemaid. She is a comely young woman in the housemaid’s usual afternoon dress and with the housemaid’s usual self-possession.]

MARY. A parcel for you, sir.

EDGAR. Thank you. Will you put it down—anywhere.

ADA. Another present! No.

EDGAR. Only my new silk hat.