The Silver Shield Part 10

SCENE.--NED CHETWYND'S. _Doors R. and L. French window opening on garden, at back. TOM'S picture of the two knights hangs on wall, R.

Piano, desk, screen, sofa, photographs, &c., &c. The entrance marked, L., should be low down stage. Fireplace, L. NED discovered writing at desk, L. LUCY reading, R._

LUCY. Nearly done, Ned?

NED. Good gracious, no. I've only just begun.

LUCY. Isn't it time you dressed? The Dozeys will be here directly. I told them we should dine early.

NED. Bother the Dozeys!

LUCY. I couldn't help asking them. Indeed, they asked themselves.

(_rises, crosses to C._)

NED. Lucy, how can I write while you keep chattering? I particularly want to finish what I'm doing. I want to send it to Alma by to-night's post.

LUCY. Alma!

NED. What's the matter?

LUCY. I wish you wouldn't call Mrs. Blake "Alma." I don't like it!

NED. I don't think you like _her._

LUCY. I like her very well; but at the same time I think you see too much of her.

NED. What nonsense! We're in the same set; I can't help seeing a good deal of her.

LUCY. That's true enough--in some of her dresses.

NED. Come, come. That's only on the stage. She has to dress according to her part. She's not responsible for its clothing.

LUCY. (_turning to NED_) The stage is an excuse for a great deal.

NED. You mean, it's an excuse for very little. Where had I got to?

You've quite put me out.

LUCY. What are you writing that's so very particular?

NED. Only a letter.

LUCY. A letter. (_crosses to NED_)

NED. But it's most important.

LUCY. (_aside_) A letter to Mrs. Blake. (_leans over his shoulder; he covers the sheet with the blotting-paper_)

NED. Lucy, I wish you wouldn't look over my shoulder. You don't know how it fidgets me. I can't write a line.

LUCY. I'd better go upstairs, then I shan't interrupt you.

NED. Thank you; there's a dear. I'm sorry to be so disagreeable, but I must finish this.

LUCY. Dinner at seven.

NED. All right. (_Exit LUCY, R._) Now I can go ahead like a steam engine. (_writes_) "Fool that I was, I thought that it would last for ever. Nothing can now remove the barrier between us. With my own hand I have destroyed my happiness." That's warm enough, I think. I'm making an infernal scoundrel of my namesake, but no matter. (_reads_) "With my own hand"--I wonder if that's right. Could he have destroyed his happiness with anybody else's hand? With my hand I have--no--he couldn't have done it with his foot.

_Re-enter LUCY, R., and down R.C._

LUCY. Ned, here's Mr. Potter.

_Enter TOM, R._

NED. (_rises_) Hallo, Tom! (_shakes hands_)

TOM. Hard at work?

NED. Yes--spoiling more paper. I'm an annuity to the local stationer.

TOM. Well, perhaps in your old age the local b.u.t.terman will be an annuity to you.

NED. Gad, I shall want one at the pace I'm going.

TOM. Sir Humphrey not come round yet?

NED. No, we're still outcasts.

LUCY. But he makes us an allowance.

NED. Yes. He hasn't forgiven us, but he makes us an allowance. That's the governor all over.

TOM. And I suppose you spend a good deal more than he allows you?

(_Lucy sits, R._)

NED. Yes, that's me all over.

TOM. Well, I won't preach.

NED. For mercy's sake! The doctor's coming to dinner; he'll preach quite enough.

LUCY. To do him justice, Ned, he doesn't talk at dinner.

NED. To do the dinner justice, he does not.

LUCY. Won't you stay, Mr. Potter?

NED. Do. I shan't work any more to-day.

TOM. Thank you. I don't dine as a rule, but I'll make an exception.