ACT I
The Action of the Play takes place in a Lancashire town on the last Saturday in April between the hours of one and five in the afternoon.
Austin Whitworth's house in Blackton was built by his father in 1870 and the library is a stately room. The door is on the right. Centre is a deep bay with a mullioned window and padded window seat. A brisk fire burns in the elaborate fireplace, with its high club fender. Shelves line the walls. All the furniture dates from the original period of the house, and though the chairs may have been upholstered in the meantime, they would repay fresh attention. Solidity is the keynote of the roomy but its light wood and bright rugs save it from heaviness.
The time is one o'clock on the last Saturday in April. A painting of old John Whitworth is over the fireplace.
In the armchair is Edmund Whitworth, a prosperous London solicitor. A bachelor, his habit of dining well has marked his waist-line. Pompous geniality is his manner. In his hand is a sheet of notepaper which, as the curtain rises, he finishes reading. Sitting facing him on the fender is Leo Whitworth, his nephew. Leo is twenty-one and dresses with fastidious taste, beautifully and unobtrusively. He is small. Just now he awaits Edmund's verdict with anxiety. Edmund removes his pince-nez and hands the paper to Leo.
EDMUND. I like it, Leo.
LEO. Really, uncle? I asked you to be candid.
EDMUND. Yes. I do like It. It's immature, but it's the real thing. (Rising and patting his shoulder patronizingly.) There's stuff in you, my boy.