The 'Mind the Paint' Girl: A Comedy in Four Acts

by Arthur Wing Pinero

In the wall facing the spectator are two doors, one on the left, the other in the centre. The left-hand door opens into the room from the landing, where the staircase is shown; the centre door admits to the bedroom. In the right-hand wall there are two sash-windows giving a view of the tops of trees growing in a square; in the opposite wall, the grate hidden by a low, painted screen, is the fireplace.

A prettily designed “fitment” runs along the left-hand wall and the further wall, taking in the fireplace and doors as part of its scheme. On either side of the fireplace there is a cupboard with drawers beneath it; between the door on the left and the door in the centre is a similar cupboard; and on the right of the centre door, extending to the right-hand wall, there is a wardrobe with sliding doors. The cupboard doors are glazed and curtained in pink silk.

In the middle of the room, a little to the right, there is a large and comfortable settee, and on the left of the settee is a table littered with books, magazines, a scent-atomizer, a small silver-framed mirror, a case of manicure instruments, a box of cigarettes and a match-stand, and other odds and ends. Behind the table there is a fauteuil-stool, and on the right of the table a cosy arm-chair. A second arm-chair stands apart, between the table in the centre and the fireplace.

On the extreme left of the room, on the nearer side of the fireplace, there is a box-ottoman; on the other side of the room, by the nearer window, are a small writing-table and chair; standing across the right-hand corner, the key-board towards the further window, are a cottage-piano and a music-stool; and at the back of the piano there is another small chair, with some soiled gloves upon it.

A quantity of music is heaped untidily on the top of the piano; one of the wardrobe doors is open, revealing some dresses hanging within; and the edge of a lace petticoat, with its insertion of coloured ribbon, peeps out from under the carelessly-closed lid of the box-ottoman. Two milliner’s hat-boxes are on the floor by the ottoman, and a pair of satin slippers are lying, one here, one there, under the centre table.

The window-blinds are down but the daylight is seen through them.

The door on the left opens and Lily, still carrying her bouquet, enters and makes straight for the windows and draws up the blinds, letting in the clear, morning light. She is followed by Enid, Gabrielle, Daphne, and Jimmie and they by Farncombe, Von Rettenmayer, de Castro, Roper, Fulkerson, and Bland. They are all pale and haggard, and slightly dishevelled, but everybody seems broad awake except Daphne, who is borne down by sleepiness. Some of the men are smoking.

Lily.

Laying her bouquet upon the table in the centre as she crosses to the windows—to the women. Come in, dears; drawing up the blind of the nearer window come in, boys. Take off your things for a minute.

Fulkerson.