The Squire Part 19

{Fel.} A letter for the Squire?

{Chris.} No.

{Fel.} For me? _(joyfully and eagerly)_

{Chris.} Yes.

{Fel.} _(eagerly)_ Give it me, please.

_(She holds out her hand for it; Chris, puts the letter behind her.)_

{Chris.} Who is it from?

{Fel.} How am I to know till I see it?

{Chris.} Guess.

{Fel.} How did you get it? _(quickly)_

{Chris.} It was left here this morning by a common soldier.

{Fel.} _(jumps with glee)_ Oh, it's from Tom! He's not common--he's a sergeant. How dare you keep my letter all day?

{Chris.} _(holds up letter--reading the address)_ "Miss Felicity Gunnion--immejit." Immejit. He can't even spell properly--that's a good match for a girl.

{Fel.} _(indignantly)_ I can't spell at all--it's a very good match, _(she s.n.a.t.c.hes the letter from Chris, and opens it--aside)_ Dear Tom--_(crosses to sofa L.)_-- that's his smudge--he always begins with a smudge.

_(she sits on couch L., and reads--Chris, watches her grimly--reads)_ "Dear Miss Gunnion." Dear Miss Gunnion! Oh, Tom! _(she reads quickly)_

{Chris.} How is he? What does he call you-- Lovey or Popsey? He smokes bad tobacco; I shouldn't care for him to kiss me.

{Fel.} _(wiping her eyes in great distress--crying)_ Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! _(she takes her earrings from her ears and throws them over the back of the couch)_

{Chris.} _(L. C.)_ Hallo! what's wrong with the ear-rings?

{Fel.} _He_ sent them to me. You were quite right, Miss Christiana, he is common; he's the commonest, worst man in Pagley Barracks.

{Chris.} I'm glad of it; it serves you right. You shouldn't sneak into other women's shoes. _(She goes off L.)_ _(The harvest people are heard again in the distance singing a rough chorus. Off stage L. U. C.--laugh.)_

{All.} A song, a song! Ay, ay, a song! _(rapping mugs on table)_

{Loud Voice.} Silence! yee.

"The Countryman's Song"

_(Kate Verity enters towards end of song from door R., looking white and worn, without noticing Fel.; she crosses slowly to window L., enters the recess, opens cas.e.m.e.nt, and looks out. The Villagers, who are supposed to be enjoying themselves in the court below, break off their singing as Kate appears and cry out to her.)_

{Man's Voice.} Theer's Squire!

{All.} Hurrah!

{Woman's Voice.} How are ye, Squire? Are you better, Squire?

_(Kate nods and closes window. Murmurs gradually subsiding. She sits on the sofa L., C., Felicity rises and crosses to go off R., D., and turns as Kate speaks.)_

{Kate.} Why, Felicity, what a sad little face.

_(Fel. goes to Kate with her letter.)_

{Fel.} I--I--I've had awful bad news, Squire.

{Kate.} _(sits)_ Well, sensible, strong-minded creatures like you and me are not to be knocked over by a little bad news, _(patting Fel's head kindly)_ What is it?

{Fel.} _(kneels at Kate's side R., of her)_ Oh, Squire, dear, listen to this, _(reading the letter)_ "Dear Miss Gunnion"--fancy that, Squire, from Tom Morris-- "the news have come to Pagley that our regiment is the next for India. _(Kate starts)_ The orders are posted that we embark in ten days from this present, in the 'Orion.'"

{Kate.} Stop! For India--Eric's regiment, _(she covers her face with her hands)_ Oh!

{Fel.} What's the matter, Squire?

{Kate.} Nothing, dearie; don't mind me. Go on!

{Fel.} _(continuing letter)_ "I have been thinking of the matter careful, and have come to the conclusion that the climate of India would not agree with your health, it being a swelterer. I therefore let you off of your engagement, but have spoke to old Stibbs, the butler at Mrs. Thornd.y.k.e's, who has saved money, and wants for to marry again, and I have mentioned you as a steady hard-working la.s.s who would make any man's home a palace. Send me back the silver earrings you had from me, as they will only remind you of him you have lost. So, no more from your heart-broken Tom." Oh, Squire!

{Kate.} _(kisses Fel. on the forehead)_ Thank Heaven, on your knees, little woman, that you can never be that man's wife.

{Fel.} _(rises and dries her eyes, and crosses to R. C.)_ I--I'm sure I'm very glad of it. _(standing C.)_ Oh, Squire, them soldiers are a bad, deceiving lot.

The King has their chests padded, and so girls think they've got big hearts, but it's all wadding, Squire, it's all wadding, _(goes up R.)_

_(Gunnion enters door L.)_

{Gun.} I'm darned if this ain't a'most too much for an old man. _(calling off, at door)_ Come on with ye!

_(Robjohns, Junior enters, attired in his best and carrying his fiddle in a green baize bag; he has a white hat in his hand.)_

I've got him at last; blessed if he ain't been dressing hisself since nine o'clock this morning, _(up by L., D.)_

{Rob.} _(L. U, advancing)_ Well, Squire, I'm truly sorry that I'm two hours and a yarf behind time, and I hope it'll make no difference.

{Kate.} _(sitting L., C.)_ No, no.

{Rob.} But, fact is, Squire, father's a-lingerin' in a most aggravatin' way, and rare work I had to get the yat from him.

{Kate.} _(absently)_ The hat?

{Rob.} _(holding out the hat)_ Father's white 'at, Squire--he's full o' yearthly pride and wouldn't give it up.

_(Rob. goes to L., D. and takes fiddle out of bag, as Fell, the grocer, a stout man, with his Wife and a little Child enter--types of village trades-people.)_

{Gun.} _(C.)_ Squire, this is Mr. Fell, the proprietor of the grocer shop down by Thong Lane.

{Fell.} _(L. U., advancing)_ I beg pardon, not a grocer's shop--stores!