At the supreme moment when Mrs. B., after an interview with the whisky bottle, forgets her part and, lapsing into the mere widow of the undertaker, gives it to the intriguing Lady Tonbridge in the neck with a wealth of imagery, a command of slightly slurred invective and a range of facial expression beyond adequate description, she is perhaps less attractive in the capacity of mother-by-marriage than ever, even if the interlude prove the goodness of her heart. But it is just at that moment that the young person is recognised by her maid. The daughter of the Duchess of Hampshire, no less! So all is well.
Not that Miss Jennings' plot matters. She freely accepts the absurdities which her bizarre outline demands, but doesn't shirk the pains to make her situations possible within the pleasantly impossible frame. What is all-important is that she does shake the house with genuinely explosive humour.
If they were Miss Jennings' bombs, Miss Fairbrother threw the most and the best of them with a perfect aim. The rest of the platoon helped in varying degrees. I hope I don't irretrievably damage Miss Joyce Carey's reputation as a modern when I say that she looked so pretty and innocent that I don't believe even sour old spinsters would have doubted her. A charming and capable performance. Mr. Donald Calthrop made love quite admirably on the lighter note; a little awkwardly, perhaps, on the more serious. Miss Sybil Carlisle handled an unpromising part with great skill. Miss Ellis Jeffreys as the ineffable Lady Tonbridge was as competent as ever, and had a coat and skirt in the Third Act which filled the female breast with envy. Looks like a long run.
T.
DRESSING THE PART.
Stout Tramp (who has been successful at the last house). "This is a nice 'at she's given me."
Partner. "Yus, it is a nice 'at; but, mind you, it ain't got the bread-winnin' qualities of the old 'un."