The Squire Part 4

Oh, I didn't mean to trap you.

{Kate.} _(rising)_ Trap! _(takes up key-basket)_

{Gil.} I beg your pardon, _(meekly)_ but it was concerning this very Mr. Thornd.y.k.e that I returned to speak to you.

{Kate.} I won't hear you. I'm going indoors.

{Gil.} _(calmly)_ I won't let you. _(standing before her)_

{Kate.} You know what you are here?

{Gil.} Is it mistress and servant?

{Kate.} I was your mistress--you are my discharged servant.

{Gil.} Humbly, then, as an old servant, I ask you to consider what this Mr. Thornd.y.k.e really is.

{Kate.} _(coldly)_ A gentleman and a soldier.

{Gil.} Not a gentleman, because he's a soldier-- what does he do here? _(pause)_

{Kate.} We are friends.

{Gil.} They don't say that in the parlour of the White Lion.

{Kate.} Oh! Do they dare--?

{Gil.} Oh, yes, they dare.

{Kate.} The idlers in a pot-house malign the woman out of whose land they get the very crust they eat. _(covers her face with her hands and sits on garden seat)_ How hard! How cruel!

{Gil.} _(earnestly)_ I have stopped their tongues when I have been by. I have always said--

{Kate.} _(raising her head)_ You, Mr. Hythe?

Thank you. In the future don't meddle with their legitimate pleasures, _(laughing with pain)_ They've so little to amuse them. How selfish I am! _(the bell rings)_ Who is that?

_(The Rev. Paul Dormer appears in the archway from L., He is a dark-browed man, about forty, but with white hair; he is attired as a clergyman, but his dress is rusty, shabby, and slovenly; he carries a heavy stick.)_

{Gil.} _(surprised)_ Parson Dormer! _(going up C.)_

{Kate.} _(rising)_ Mr. Dormer! _(Dor. comes down, meeting Gil.)_

{Dormer.} _(to Gil. roughly)_ You're Gilbert Hythe, I think.

{Gil.} You think aright--I am.

{Dormer.} Can you carry a basket?

{Gil.} Where to?

{Dormer.} To the White Lion!

{Gil.} What for?

{Dormer.} For the sake of a sick woman.

{Gil.} I can carry a basket to the White Lion.

{Dormer.} _(gruffly)_ Thank you.

{Gil.} _(looking at Dor.)_ For the sake of a sick woman?

{Dormer.} _(turning away)_ Ah!

{Gil.} _(to Kate.)_ Call me when I'm wanted, Squire. I'm going to say good-bye to the dog.

_(Goes off through archway to R., Dor. sits R., of table.)_

{Kate.} _(L. C.)_ If your business is with Gilbert Hythe, you can dispense with the mistress of the house, Mr. Dormer, _(about to go)_

{Dormer.} No, I want you, too.

{Kate.} Really, parson--you haven't shown face at The Priors since father died, two years ago; you don't say "How do you do?" to John Verity's daughter; and you don't say "Good-day" to the nearest approach to a Squire that your parish can boast. The one omission is rude--the other impolitic.

{Dormer.} I didn't like your father--you resemble him in face and manner.

{Kate.} My father didn't like you. _(she holds out her hand, going to him)_ How are you, parson?

What can I do for you?

_(He looks at her, takes her hand sulkily.)_

{Dormer.} Fill a basket with food, fit for an invalid, and send your man with it to Market-Sinfield.

{Kate.} _(calling)_ Christie! _(to Dor.)_ A woman manages the White Lion, I think.

{Dormer.} A woman mismanages the White Lion.

{Kate.} _(clapping her hands)_ Christie! _(to Dor.)_ Shan't we hurt the landlady's feelings by sending food there? _(goes to R., table)_

{Dormer.} _(with enjoyment)_ We shall, _(irritably)_ Now then, you--what's-your-name?--why don't you come when you're called?

_(Christiana appears at door, wiping her hands on her ap.r.o.n.)_

{Chris.} _(angrily)_ Who's calling me "what's-your- name"? _(seeing Dor.)_ Why, parson! _(curtseys at door)_

{Dormer.} _(rises--shaking his stick at her)_ The gipsy girl, who won't sing the hymns on Sunday.

{Kate.} You start them in such a high key, parson.

{Chris.} _(curtseying)_ Yes, Squire, that he does.