Garside's Career: A Comedy in Four Acts

by Harold Brighouse

Mrs. G. (uncomprehendingly). No. I've been telling folks about you. (She takes off bonnet and cape and hangs them on door right.) Some of 'em's green with jealousy this night. They know I'm the mother of a great man now.

Peter. So you were first, after all?

Mrs. G. I meant being first. Who'd the better right to be? Me or a wild Irishman? (Crossing to dresser and emptying on a plate the contents of a parcel she had brought in.)

Peter (smiling). And you've been killing the fatted calf for me?

Mrs. G. (literally). Oh, did you want pressed veal? I've got ham.

Peter. I don't want veal. Food's not a bad idea, though.

Mrs. G. (looking at Margaret). No. Margaret might have thought of that and put the kettle on if she'd had her wits about her.

Mar. (rising). I'm sorry, Mrs. Garside. We've been talking.

Mrs. G. You'd some excuse. Peter's given us something to talk about.

Mar. Let me help now.