Mr. Pim Passes By

A Comedy in Three Acts

by

A. A. Milne

Characters

The Original Cast at the Gaiety Theatre, Manchester

George Marden, J.P. . . . . . . . . . Mr. Ben Webster.
Olivia (his Wife) . . . . . . . . . . Miss Irene Vanbrugh.
Dinah (his Niece) . . . . . . . . . . Miss Georgette Cohan.
Lady Marden (his Aunt) . . . . . . . . Miss Sybil Carlisle.
Brian Strange . . . . . . . . . . Mr. Philip Easton.
Carraway Pin . . . . . . . . . . Mr. Dion Boucicault.
Anne . . . . . . . . . . Miss Ethel Wellesley.

The action takes place in the morning-room at Marden House, Buckinghamshire, on a day in July.

The Original London Cast at the New Theatre

George Marden, J.P. . . . . . . . . . Mr. Ben Webster.
Olivia (his Wife) . . . . . . . . . . Miss Irene Vanbrugh.
Dinah (his Niece) . . . . . . . . . . Miss Georgette Cohan.
Lady Marden (his Aunt) . . . . . . . . Miss Ethel Griffes.
Brian Strange . . . . . . . . . . Mr. Leslie Howard.
Carraway Pin . . . . . . . . . . Mr. Dion Boucicault.
Anne . . . . . . . . . . Miss Ethel Wellesley.

Mr. Pim Passes By

Act I

The morning-room at Marden House (Buckinghamshire) decided more than a hundred years ago that it was all right, and has not bothered about itself since. Visitors to the house have called the result such different adjectives as "mellow," "old-fashioned," "charming"–even "baronial" and "antique;" but nobody ever said it was "exciting." Sometimes Olivia wants it to be more exciting, and last week she rather let herself go over some new curtains; she still has the rings to put on. It is obvious that the curtains alone will overdo the excitement; they will have to be harmonized with a new carpet and cushions. Olivia has her eye on just the things, but one has to go carefully with George. What was good enough, for his great-great-grandfather is good enough for him. However, we can trust Olivia to see him through it, although it may take time.

A scene plot is given at the end of the play.

There are three ways of coming into the room: by the open windows leading from the garden, by the doors to R., or by the staircase from up R, Mr. Pim chooses the latter way–or rather Anne chooses it for him; and Mr. Pim kindly and inoffensively follows her. She comes down steps and crosses to C., followed by Mr. Pim.

Anne (moves up, looking off L. and returning to Pim R.C.). I'll tell Mr. Marden you're here, sir. Mr. Pim, isn't it?

Pim (nervously). Yes–er–Mr. Pim–Mr. Carraway Pim. He doesn't know me, you understand, but if he could just spare me a few moments–er—(He fumbles in his pockets.) I gave you that letter?

Anne. Yes, sir, I'll give it to him.

Pim (brings out a stamped letter which is not the one he was looking for, but which reminds him of something else he has forgotten. Looking at letter). Oh! Dear me!

Anne. Yes, sir?

Pim. Dear me. I ought to have posted this. (Looking at letter.) Oh, well, I must send a telegram. You have a telegraph office in the village?

Anne. Oh, yes, sir. (Moving up to terrace up L. and pointing off L.) If you turn to the left when you get outside the gates, it's about a hundred yards down the hill. Turn to the left and down the hill.

Pim. Turn to the left and down the hill. Thank you, thank you. Very stupid of me to have forgotten.

(Anne exits up staircase R.)

(Mr. Pim wanders about the room humming to himself, and looking at the pictures and photos on piano. Then goes out at window up L.) (Dinah enters from staircase up R. dancing, and humming the air of "Down on the Farm:" she is nineteen, very pretty, very happy, and full of boyish high spirits and conversation. She dances to foot of stairs, looks off R., then down C., then to piano; sits and plays a few bars and sings "Down on the Farm," rises and moves up to R. of piano, and as she does so Pim re-enters from window up L. and they come suddenly face to face up back C. below the writing-table. There is a slight pause.)

Dinah (backing a step). Hullo!

Pim. You must forgive me, but... Good morning, Mrs. Marden.

Dinah. Oh, I say, I'm not Mrs. Marden. I'm Dinah.

Pim (with a smile). Then I will say, Good morning. Miss Diana.

Dinah (reproachfully). Now, look here, if you and I are going to be friends, you mustn't do that. Dinah, not Diana. Do remember it, there's a good man, because I get so tired of correcting people. (Moving down C. to B.) Have you come to stay with us? (Sits on settee R.)

Pim (following her down). Well, no, Miss–er–Dinah.

Dinah (nodding). That's right. I can see I shan't have to speak to you again. Now tell me your name, and I bet you I get it right first time. And do sit down.

Pim (crossing to L. and sitting on settee L.). Thank you. My name is–er–Pim, Carraway Pim–

Dinah. Pim, that's easy.

Pim. And I have a letter of introduction to your father–

Dinah (rising and crossing to R. of table L.C. and speaking across same). Oh, no; now you're going wrong again, Mr. Pim. George isn't my father; he's my uncle. Uncle George–he doesn't like me calling him George. Olivia doesn't mind–I mean she doesn't mind being called Olivia, but George is rather touchy. (Sitting on table, facing Pim.) You see, he's been my guardian since I was about two, and then about five years ago he married a widow called Mrs. Telworthy.

Pim (repeating). Mrs. Telworthy.

Dinah. That's Olivia–so she became my Aunt Olivia, only she lets me drop the Aunt. (Speaking very sharply.) Get that?

Pim (a little alarmed). I–I think so, Miss Marden.

Dinah (admiringly). I say, you are quick, Mr. Pim. Well, if you take my advice, when you've finished your business with George, you will hang about a bit and see if you can't see Olivia. (Rising and moving C.) She's simply–(feeling for the word)–devastating. I don't wonder George fell in love with her.

(Moving to above piano R., looking at photos, etc.)

Pim (rising and looking at his watch and coming C.). It's only the merest matter of business–just a few words with your uncle–Perhaps I'd better...

Dinah (looking at photo on top end of piano). Well, you must please yourself, Mr. Pim. I'm just giving you a friendly word of advice. Naturally, I was awfully glad to get such a magnificent aunt. (Moving down to L. of piano and taking up and looking at photo of Olivia.) Because, after all, marriage is rather a toss up, isn't it?–

Pim (taken aback). Well, I don't, know, I haven't had any experience...

Dinah (continuing). And George might have gone off with anybody. (Moving to Pim.) It's different on the stage, where guardians always marry their wards, but George couldn't marry me because I'm his niece. Mind you, I don't say that I should have had him, because, between ourselves, he's a little bit old-fashioned.

Pim. So he married–er–Mrs. Marden instead.

Dinah. Mrs. Telworthy–don't say you've forgotten already, just when you were getting so good at names. Mrs. Telworthy. (Moves to and sits on settee R.) You see, Olivia married the Telworthy man and went to Australia with him, and he drank himself to death in the bush, or wherever you drink yourself to death out there, and Olivia came home to England, and met my uncle, and he fell in love with her and proposed to her–(rises and kneels on settee)–and he came into my room that night–I was about fourteen–and turned on the light and said, "Dinah, how would you like to have a beautiful aunt of your very own?" (Pim laughs.) And I said: "Congratulations, George." (Pim laughs again.) That was the first time I called him George. Of course, I'd seen it coming for weeks. Telworthy, isn't it a funny name?

Pim. Oh, a most curious name–Telworthy. From Australia, you say?

Dinah. Yes, I always say that he's probably still alive, and will turn up here one morning and annoy George.

Pim (shocked). Oh!

Dinah. But I'm afraid there's not much chance.

Pim (shocked). Miss Marden! Really!

Dinah, Well, of course, I don't really want it to happen, but it would be rather exciting. (Crossing to Pim.) Wouldn't it, Mr Pim?

Pim. Exciting!

(Pim crosses to below settee L.)

Dinah. However, things like that never seem to occur down here, somehow, (Running up into window up R. Pim watches her.) There was a hayrick burnt last year about a mile away, but that isn't the same, is it?

Pim. No, I should say that that was certainly different.

Dinah (coming to back of table L.C.). Of course, something very, very wonderful did happen last night. (Backing away.) No, no! I'm not sure if I know you well enough–(She looks at him hesitatingly.)

Pim (uncomfortably). Really, Miss Marden, you mustn't. I am only a–a passer-by, here to-day and gone to-morrow. You really mustn't–

Dinah (looking round and earning down to Pim), And yet there's something about you, Mr. Pim, which inspires confidence.

Pim (moving to L.). Oh, no. Really, you mustn't tell me.

Dinah (taking his arm). The fact is–(in a stage whisper)–I got engaged last night!

Pim. Dear me, let me congratulate you. I wish somebody would come here.

Dinah (running up to foot of staircase up R. and looking off), I expect that's why George is keeping you such a long time. (Turning to Pim.) Brian, my young man, the well-known painter–only nobody has ever heard of him–he's smoking a pipe with George in the library and asking for his niece's hand. (Coming back to Pim, and taking his hands, she dances round with him in a circle.)

(Pim falls exhausted and coughing on to settee L. and Dinah laughing sits on settee R.)

Dinah. Isn't it exciting? You're really rather lucky, Mr. Pim–I mean being told so soon. Even Olivia doesn't know yet.

Pim. Yes, yes, I congratulate you, Miss Marden. Perhaps it would be better–(About to get up.)

(Anne comes in from staircase up R. She comes to C.)

Anne. Mr. Marden is out at the moment, sir–

Dinah (disappointed). Oh!

Anne (seeing Dinah). Oh, I didn't see you, Miss Dinah!

Pim. Out! Eh? Dear! Dear!

Dinah, It's all right, Anne. (Rising.) I'm looking after Mr. Pim.

Anne. Very well, Miss.

Pim (sotto voce). Out! Oh, well, I'd better go–

(Exit Anne up staircase B.)

Dinah (excitedly). That's me. (Running up to foot of staircase and watching Anne off.) They can't discuss me in the library without breaking down–(coming down R. and imitating George and Brian)–so they're walking up and down outside, and slashing at the thistles in order to conceal their emotion. You know. I expect Brian–(Crossing up to R. of window.)

Pim (rising, calling). Miss Marden! Miss Marden! (Looking at his watch.) Yes, I think, Miss Marden, I had better go now and return a little later. I have a telegram which I want to send, and perhaps by the time I come back your uncle will be able–

Dinah (coming to Pim). Oh, but how disappointing of you, when we were getting on together so nicely! And it was just going to be your turn to tell me all about yourself.

Pim. I have really nothing to tell, Miss Marden. I have a letter of introduction to your uncle, who in turn will give me, I hope, a letter to a certain distinguished man whom it is necessary for me to meet. That is all. (Holding out his hand.) And now, Miss Marden, I really think I'd better be going.

Dinah (taking his arm and hading him up stage C. to L.). Oh, I'll start you on your way to the post office.

Pim. Will you? Now, that's really very kind of you.

Dinah. No, it isn't.

Pim. Oh, but it is! You're a very kind little girl.

Dinah. I want to know if you're married–

Pim. Oh, no, I'm not married.

Dinah.–and all that sort of thing. You've got heaps to tell me, Mr. Pim. Have you got your hat? (Pim shows his hat.) Oh yes! That's right.

(Brian Strange comes in from window up R. He is what George calls a damned futuristic painter chap, aged 24. To look at he is a very pleasant boy, rather untidily dressed. He is about to tell Dinah the result of his interview with George when he catches sight of Pim.)

Then we'll–hullo, here's Brian! (Crossing below and to his R. seizing him.) Brian, this is Mr. Pim! Mr. Carraway Pim. He's been telling me all about himself.

Pim. I haven't said a word. I never opened my mouth.

Dinah. It's so interesting. He's just going to send a telegram, and then he's coming back again. Mr. Pim–(coyly and moving down to head of settee R.)–this is Brian–you know,

Brian (nodding). How-do-you-do?

Pim. How-do-you-do, sir?

Dinah (pleadingly and crossing below Brian to Pim), You won't mind going to the post office by yourself now, will you? (Coyly moving up to chair by writing-table and nervously kicking her ankle, etc.) Because, you see, Brian and I–(She looks lovingly at Brian.)

Pim (moved to sentiment). Miss Dinah and Mr.–er–Brian, I have only come into your lives for a moment, and it is probable that I shall now pass out of them for ever, but perhaps you will permit an old man–

Dinah. Oh, not so old!

Pim (chuckling happily). Not old? Well, shall we say a middle-aged man–(Dinah nods assent. Pim laughs again)–a middle-aged man to wish you both every happiness in the years that you have before you. (Crossing in front of Dinah, shakes hands with Brian.) Good-bye–(shaking hands with Dinah)–good-bye, and thank you so much. Oh, I know my way. (Moving up L. and turning to Dinah.) Turn to the left and down the hill? Turn to the left and down the hill.

(Exit Pim up L. Dinah watches him off up L. on terrace and Brian up R.)

Dinah (coming into the room below writing-table to R.C.). Brian, he'll get lost if he goes that way.

Brian (crossing at back of windows and calling after him up L.). Round to the left, sir. Yes, that's right. (He comes back into the room, crossing down L.C.) Rum old bird. Who is he?

Dinah. Darling, you haven't kissed me yet.

Brian (moving up to her and pulling her down to below settee L.), Oh, I say. I oughtn't to, but then one never ought to do the nice things.

Dinah. Why oughtn't you?

(They sit on the sofa together–Brian to R., Dinah to L.)

Brian. Well, we said we'd be good until we'd told your uncle and aunt all about it. You see, being a guest in their house–

Dinah. But, darling child, what have you been doing all this morning except telling George?

Brian. Oh, trying to tell George.

Dinah (nodding). Yes, of course, there's a difference.

Brian. I think he guessed there was something up, and he took me down to see the pigs–he said he had to see the pigs at once–I don't know why; an appointment perhaps. And we talked about pigs all the way, and I couldn't say, "Talking about pigs, I want to marry your niece–"

Dinah (with mock indignation). Oh, of course you couldn't.

Brian. No. Well, you see how it was. And then when we'd finished talking about pigs, we started talking to the pigs–

Dinah (eagerly). Oh, how is Arnold?

Brian. Arnold...? Oh yes, that's the little black-and-white one? He's very jolly, I believe, but naturally I wasn't thinking about him much. I was wondering how to begin. And then Lumsden came up, and wanted to talk pig-food, and the atmosphere grew less and less romantic, and–and I gradually drifted away.

Dinah. Oh, poor darling! Well, we shall have to approach him through Olivia.

Brian. But I always wanted to tell her first; she's so much easier. Only you wouldn't let me.

Dinah. That's your fault, Brian. You would tell Olivia that she ought to have orange-and-black curtains in here.

Brian. But she wants orange and black curtains in here.

Dinah. Yes. (Rising and standing with her back to fire, imitating George.) But George says he's not going to have any Futuristic nonsense in an honest English country house, which has been good enough for his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather, and–and all the rest of them. (Kneels on settee.) So there's a sort of strained feeling between Olivia and George just now, and if Olivia were to–sort of recommend you, well, it wouldn't do you much good.

Brian (looking at her). I see. Of course I know what you want, Dinah.

Dinah. What do I want?

Brian. You want a secret engagement–

Dinah. Oh!

Brian. And notes left under door-mats–

Dinah. Oh!

Brian. And meetings by the withered thorn–

Dinah. Oh!

Brian. When all the household is asleep.

Dinah. Oh!

Brian. I know you.

Dinah. Oh, but it is such fun! I love meeting people by withered thorns.

Brian. Well, I'm not going to have it.

Dinah (childishly, sitting close to him). Oh, George! Look at us being husbandy!

Brian. You babe! I adore you. (He kisses her and holds her hands.) You know, you're rather throwing yourself away on me. Do you mind?

Dinah (putting her legs up on settee and reclining her head on his shoulder). Not a bit.

Brian. We shall never be rich, but we shall have lots of fun, and meet interesting people, and feel that we're doing something worth doing, and not getting paid nearly enough for it, and we can curse the Academy together and the British Public, and–oh, it's an exciting life.

Dinah (seeing it). I shall love it.

Brian (sincerely). I'll make you love it. You shan't be sorry, Dinah.

Dinah. You shan't be sorry either, Brian.

Brian (looking at her lovingly). Oh, I know I shan't.... What will Olivia think about it? Will she be surprised?

Dinah. Olivia? Oh, she's never surprised. She always seems to have thought of things about half an hour before they happen. George just begins to get hold of them about half an hour after they've happened. (Considering him, stroking his hair.) After all, there's no reason why George shouldn't like you, darling.

Brian. I'm not his sort, you know, really.

Dinah. You're more Olivia's sort. Well, we'll tell Olivia this morning.

(Olivia comes in from top of staircase up R.)

Olivia (coming in). And what are you going to tell Olivia this morning? (They jump up and go to her.)

Dinah. Olivia, darling–

Olivia, Oh, well, I think I can guess,

(Dinah goes to her R, and Brian to her L., and they bring her down C.)

Brian (following). Say you understand, Mrs. Marden.

Olivia. Mrs. Marden, I am afraid, is a very dense person, Brian, but I think if you asked Olivia if she understood–

Brian. Bless you, Olivia. I knew you'd be on our side.

Dinah. Of course she would.

Olivia. I don't know if it's usual to kiss an aunt-in-law, Brian, but Dinah is such a very special sort of niece that–(she inclines her cheek and Brian kisses it).

Dinah (backing away to B. a little). I say, you are in luck to-day, Brian.

(Brian moves up C. laughing.)

Olivia (crossing below settee L. and up L. to cabinet). And how many people have been told the good news? Brian. Nobody yet.

Dinah. Except Mr. Pim.

Brian (crossing down to Dinah). Oh, does he–

Olivia (timing as she reaches cabinet, up L.), Who's Mr. Pim?

Dinah. Oh, he just happened–(Olivia takes curtains and work-basket from centre cupboard of cabinet.)–I say, are those the curtains? Then you're going to have them after all?

Olivia (with an air of surprise, coming down L., and putting work-basket on table L.C. and sitting with curtains). After all what? But I decided on them long ago. (To Brian.) You haven't told George yet.

Brian (moving to below stool L.C.). I began to, you know, but I never got any farther than "Er–there's just–er–"

Dinah (crossing quickly below Olivia and speaking into her face). George would talk about pigs all the time.

Olivia. Well, I suppose you want me to help you.

Dinah (sitting to L. of Olivia). Oh, do, darling.

Brian (sits on stool L.C.). It would be awfully decent of you. Of course, I'm not quite his sort really–

Dinah. You're my sort.

Brian. But I don't think he objects to me, and–

(George comes in from terrace, a typical, narrow-minded, honest country gentleman of forty odd. Brian rises hurriedly and crosses to above piano to R. Dinah rises and stands by fireplace. Olivia unfolds curtains and prepares to sew.)

George (at the windows–he does not see Brian). Hullo! Hullo! Hullo! What's all this about a Mr. Pim? Who is he? Where is he? (He puts his cap on table, and comes down, into room.) I had most important business with Lumsden, and the girl comes down and cackles about a Mr. Pim, or Ping, or something. Where did I put his card? (Bringing it out.) Carraway Pim. Never heard of him in my life, (Moves back to writing-table and puts down card.)

Dinah. He said he had a letter of introduction, Uncle George.

George. Oh, you saw him, did you! (Comes down C. to R.) Yes, that reminds me, there was a letter–(he brings it out and reads it).

Dinah. He had to send a telegram. He's coming back.

Olivia. Pass me those scissors, Brian.

Brian (crossing to above table L.C.). These? (he passes them.)

Olivia (giving Brian a nod of encouragement and looking round at Dinah). Thank you.

George (reading). Ah well, a friend of Brymer's, Glad to oblige him. Yes, I know the man he wants. Coming back, you say, Dinah? (Dinah nods.) Then I'll be going back too. Send him down to the farm, Olivia, when he comes. (Going up meets Brian.) Hallo, what happened to you? (Still moving up a little.)

Olivia. Don't go, George, there's something we want to talk about. (Dinah gives a long whistle. All look sheepish and George notices their attitude.)

George. Hallo, what's this?

Brian (quickly and over back of i.e. table to Olivia). Shall I—! (Dinah pantomimes. "Yes, do.")

Olivia (with a roguish loot at Dinah). Yes, (Sticks needle in work.)

Brian (stepping out to C.) I've been wanting to tell you all this morning, sir, only I didn't seem to have an opportunity of getting it out.

George. Well, what is it?

(Brian, taken aback for a moment, looks to Olivia for encouragement. She nods approval and turning to Dinah, takes her hand encouragingly–)

Brian (boldly). I want to marry Dinah, sir.

George. You want to marry Dinah? God bless my soul!

Dinah (rushing to him below and to his R. and pulling her cheek against his coat, and her hands on his shoulder). Oh, do say you like the idea, Uncle George.

George. Like the idea! (Taking her hands from his shoulder.) Have you heard of this nonsense, Olivia?

(Movement of annoyance from Dinah.)

Olivia. They've just this moment told me, George. I think they would be happy together.

George (crossing to fire-place L., to Brian). And what do you propose to be happy together on?

Brian (R.C.). Well, of course, I know it doesn't amount to much at present, but we shan't starve.

Dinah. Brian got fifty pounds for a picture last March!

George (a little upset by this). Oh! (Recovering gamely.) And how many pictures have you sold since?

Brian (gives a nervous look at Olivia and Dinah, who then sits on settee R.). Well, none, but–

George. None! And I don't wonder. Who the devil is going to buy pictures with triangular clouds and square sheep? (Brian, annoyed, moves up R.C.) And they call that Art nowadays! Good God, man (moving up to the windows), go outside and look at the clouds!

Olivia (busy stitching rings on curtains). If he draws round clouds in future, George, will you let him marry Dinah?

(George looks round, annoyed. Brian is hopeful and comes down towards Dinah.)

George (upset by this, coming down to head of L.C. table). What–what? Yes, of course, you would be on his side–all this Futuristic nonsense. (Olivia commences to sew.) I'm just taking these clouds as an example. (Crossing to Brian.) I suppose I can see as well as any man in the county, and I say that clouds aren't triangular.

Brian (ingratiatingly). After all, sir, at my age one is naturally experimenting, and trying to find one's (with a laugh)–well, it sounds priggish, but one's medium of expression. I shall find out what I want to do directly, but I think I shall always be able to earn enough to live on. Well, I have for the last three years.

George. I see, and now you want to experiment with a wife–

Brian. Yes–no–no–

Dinah. Yes, you do,

Brian. Yes.

George. And you propose to experimenting with my niece?

Brian (with a shrug). Well, of course, if you–

Olivia. You could help the experiment, darling, by giving Dinah a good allowance until she's twenty-one.

George. Help the experiment! I don't want to help the experiment. (Crossing up to writing-table.)

Olivia (apologetically). Oh, I thought you did.

George. You will talk as if I was made of money. What with taxes always going up and rents always going down, it's as much as we can do to rub along as we are (to back of L.C. table), without making allowances to everybody who thinks she wants to get married. (To Brian.) And that's thanks to you, my friend.

Brian (surprised). To me?

Olivia. You never told me, darling. What's Brian been doing?

Dinah (indignantly). He hasn't been doing anything.

George (round to foot of table L.C.). He's one of your Socialists who go turning the country upside down.

Olivia. But even Socialists must get married sometimes.

George (crossing below Olivia to fireplace). I don't see any necessity.

Olivia. But you'd have nobody to damn after dinner, darling, if they all died out.

Brian (coming a little C.). Really, sir, I don't see what my politics and my art have got to do with it. I'm perfectly ready not to talk about either when I'm in your house, and as Dinah doesn't seem to object to them——

Dinah (moving towards Brian and championing him). I should think she doesn't.

George. Oh, you can get round the women, I daresay.

Brian. Well, it's Dinah I want to marry and live with. So what it really comes to is that you don't think I can support a wife.

George. Well, if you're going to do it by selling pictures, I don't think you can.

Brian (moving to R. of table L.C.). All right, tell me how much you want me to earn in a year, and I'll earn it.

George (hedging). It isn't merely a question of money. I just mention that as one thing–one of the important things. (George crosses to Brian who backs towards Dinah.) In addition to that, I think you are both too young to marry. (Dinah stamps her foot.) I don't think you know your own minds (Dinah kneels dejectedly on settee R.), and I am not at all persuaded that, with what I venture to call your outrageous tastes——

Dinah. Oh!

George You and my niece will live happily together. (Pause. Crossing up to writing-table, sits.) Just because she thinks she loves you, Dinah may persuade herself now that she agrees with all you say and do, but she has been properly brought up in an honest English country household–(Dinah throws up her arms and buries her face in her hands on piano) and–er–she–well, in short, I cannot at all approve of any engagement between you. (Getting up.) Olivia, if this Mr.–er–Pim comes, I shall be down at the farm You might send him along to me.

(He walks towards the windows up L.)

Brian (moving up R., followed by Dinah; indignantly). Is there any reason why I shouldn't marry a girl who has been properly brought up?

George. I think you know my views, Strange.

(Dinah, disappointed, crosses down R. again to below table R.C.)

Olivia. George, wait a moment, dear. We can't quite leave it like this.

George. I have said all I want to say on the subject.

(Dinah sits on settee R.)

Olivia. Yes, darling, but I haven't begun to say all that I want to say on the subject.

George (crossing down to back of table L.C.). Of course, if you have anything to say, Olivia, I will listen to it; but I don't know that this is quite the time–(Olivia makes a marked movement as she is sewing the curtains), or that you have chosen–(looking darkly at the curtains)–quite the occupation likely to–er–endear your views to me.

Dinah (mutinously, rising quickly and crossing to stool on which she kneels and looks up into George's face and bangs the table). I may as well tell you, Uncle George, that I have got a good deal to say, too.

(Brian crosses down to her R., gingerly pulling her sleeve, trying to restrain her.)

Olivia. Yes, darling. I can guess what you are going to say, Dinah, and I think you had better keep it for the moment.

Dinah (meekly, backing to R. below Brian and to L. of table R.C.). Yes, Aunt Olivia.

Olivia. Brian, you might take her outside for a walk. I expect you have plenty to talk about.

(Brian and Dinah move up R.)

George (following them up). Now mind, Strange, no love-making. I put you on your honour about that.

Brian (looking round dubiously at Dinah). I'll do my best to avoid it, sir.

Dinah (cheekily). May I take his arm if we go up a hill?

Olivia. I'm sure you'll know how to behave–both of you.

Brian (R. of writing-table). Come on, then, Dinah.

Dinah (following him). Right-o. (They exeunt through windows and off to L.)

George (as they go). And if you do see any clouds, Strange, take a good look at them. (He chuckles to himself.) Triangular clouds–I never heard of such nonsense. (He goes back to his chair at the writing-table and sits.) Futuristic rubbish... Well, Olivia?

Olivia (sewing curtains). Well, George?

George. What are you doing?

Olivia. Making curtains–(grunt of disapproval from George)–George. Won't they be rather sweet? Oh, but I forgot–you don't like them.

George. No. I don't like them, and what is more, I don't mean to have them in my house. As I told you yesterday, this is the house of a simple country gentleman, and I don't want any of these new-fangled ideas in it.

Olivia. Is marrying for love a new-fangled idea?

George. We'll come to that directly. None of you women can keep to the point. What I am saying now is that the house of my fathers and forefathers is good enough for me.

Olivia. Do you know, George, I can hear one of your ancestors saying that to his wife in their smelly old cave–(George looks up annoyed at her levity)–when the new-fangled idea of building houses was first suggested. "The Cave of my Forefathers is good enough for——"

George (rising and coming to R. of L.C. table). That's ridiculous. Naturally we must have progress. But that's just the point. (Indicating the curtains.) I don't call this sort of thing progress. It's–ah–retrogression.

Olivia. Well, anyhow, it's pretty.

George. There I disagree with you. And I must say once more that I will not have them hanging in my house. (Going up R.C.)

Olivia. Very well, George. (But she goes on working.)

George (seeing her continuing to sew, stops). That being so, I don't see the necessity of going on with them.

Olivia. Well, I must do something with them now I've got the material.

(George goes up to writing-table, sits and writes.)

I thought perhaps I could sell them when they're finished–as we're so poor.

George (turns to her with surprised look). What do you mean–so poor?

Olivia. Well, you said just now that you couldn't give Dinah an allowance because rents had gone down.

George (annoyed). Confound it, Olivia! Keep to the point! We'll talk about Dinah's affairs directly. We're discussing our own affairs at the moment.

Olivia. But what is there to discuss, dear?

George. Well, those ridiculous things.

Olivia. But we've finished that. You've said you wouldn't have them hanging in your house, and I've said, "Very well, George."–(George is again annoyed.)–Now we can go on to Dinah, and Brian.

George (shouting). But put these beastly things away.

Olivia (rising and gathering up the curtains). Very well, George.

(Going up L. she places the curtains on the cabinet.)

George (waits impatiently until she has put them away on top of cabinet). Ah! That's better.

(Olivia comes to table L.C., closes her workbox and then crosses down to settee R.)

George (rising and crossing down to Olivia and placing arms lovingly on her shoulder). Now look here, Olivia, old girl, you've been a jolly good wife to me–(takes his arms from her shoulder)–and we don't often have rows, and if I've been rude to you about this–lost my temper a bit perhaps, what?–I'll say I'm sorry. May I have a kiss?

Olivia (holding up her face). George, darling! (He kisses her.) Do you love me?

George. You know I do, old girl.

Olivia. As much as Brian loves Dinah?

George (stiffly, taking her hands from his shoulders). I've said all I want to say about that. (He goes away from her to L.)

Olivia. Oh, but there must be lots you want to say and perhaps don't like to. (Sits on settee R.) Do tell me, darling.

George (coming back to C.). What it comes to is this. I consider that Dinah is too young to choose a husband for herself, and that Strange isn't the husband I should choose for her.

Olivia. You were calling him Brian yesterday.

George. Yesterday I regarded him as a boy, now he wants me to look upon him as a man.

Olivia. He's twenty-four.

George. Yes, and Dinah's nineteen. Ridiculous. (Crossing up to smoking-table up R., and filling his pipe which he finds on table.)

Olivia. If he'd been a Conservative, and thought that clouds were round, I suppose he'd have seemed older, somehow.

George. That's a different point altogether. That has nothing to do with his age.

Olivia (innocently). Oh, I thought it had.

George (crossing down C. stuffing tobacco into his pipe). What I am objecting to is these ridiculously early marriages before either party knows its own mind, much less the mind of the other party. (Moving to fireplace looking for a match.) Such marriages invariably lead to unhappiness.

Olivia. Of course, my first marriage wasn't a happy one.

George. As you know, Olivia, I dislike speaking about your first marriage at all–(takes a match from table down L. Olivia rises slowly and goes up to R. of writing-table)–and I had no intention of bringing it up now, but since you mention it–well, there's a case in point. (Sits on settee L., lighting his pipe.)

Olivia (looking back at it). When I was eighteen, I was in love.

George (turning to her). What?

Olivia. Or perhaps I only thought I was, and I don't know if I should have been happy or not if I had married him. But my father made me marry Mr. Jacob Telworthy. (George looks up at her, annoyed.) And when things were too hot for him in England–"too hot for him"–I think that was the expression we used in those days–then we went to Australia, and I left him there. (Goes slowly down to back of settee L.) And the only happy moment I had in all my married life was on the morning when I saw in the papers that he was dead. (Leans with her arms over back of settee.)

George (very uncomfortable yet lovingly taking her hands with his left hand). Yes, yes, my dear, I know, I know. You must have had a terrible time. I can hardly bear to think about it. My only hope is that I have made up to you for it in some degree. (She places her left cheek lovingly on his head.) (Dropping her hands.) But I don't see what bearing it has upon Dinah's case.

Olivia. Oh, none, except that my father liked Jacob's political opinions and his views on art. (Moving slowly round L.C. table to below stool at foot.) I expect that that was why he chose him for me.

George. You seem to think that I wish to choose a husband for Dinah. I don't at all. Let her choose whom she likes as long as he can support her and there's a chance of their being happy together. Now, with regard to this fellow–

Olivia. You mean Brian?

George. Well, he's got no money, and he's been brought up in quite a different way from Dinah. Dinah may be prepared to believe that–er–all cows are blue, and that–er–waves are square, but she won't go on believing it for ever.

Olivia. Neither will Brian.

George (moving to R. end of settee). Well, that's what I keep telling him, only he won't see it. Just as I keep telling you about those ridiculous curtains. (Points to cupboard with pipe in right hand over his left shoulder.) It seems to me that I am the only person in the house with any eyesight left.