The Magistrate Part 11

CHARLOTTE.

[_Quietly to AGATHA POSKET._] Aggy?

AGATHA POSKET.

[_To CHARLOTTE._] The boy's G.o.d-father.

CHARLOTTE.

 

When was the child christened?

AGATHA POSKET.

A month after he was born. They always are.

MR. POSKET.

[_Reading the letter again._] This is _very_ pleasant.

AGATHA POSKET.

[_To MR. POSKET._] Let--let me see the letter, I--I may recognise the handwriting.

MR. POSKET.

[_Handing her the letter._] Certainly, my pet. [_To himself._]

Awakened memories of Number One. That's the worst of marrying a widow; somebody is always proving her previous convictions.

AGATHA POSKET.

[_To CHARLOTTE._] "No. 19a, Cork Street!" Charley, put on your things and come with me.

CHARLOTTE.

Agatha, you're mad!

AGATHA POSKET.

I'm going to shut this man's mouth before he comes into this house to-morrow.

CHARLOTTE.

Wait _till_ he comes.

AGATHA POSKET.

Yes, till he stalks in here with his "How d'ye do, Posket? Haven't seen your wife since the year '66, by Gad, sir!" Not I! aeneas!

MR. POSKET.

My dear.

AGATHA POSKET.

Lady Jenkins--Adelaide--is very ill; she can't put her foot to the ground with neuralgia.

[_Taking the letter from her pocket, and giving it to him._

MR. POSKET.

Bless me!

AGATHA POSKET.

We have known each other for six long years.

MR. POSKET.

Only six weeks, my love.

AGATHA POSKET.

Weeks _are_ years in close friends.h.i.+p. My place is by her side.

MR. POSKET.

[_Reading the letter._] "Slightly indisposed, caught trifling cold at the Dog Show. Where do you buy your handkerchiefs?" There's nothing about neuralgia or putting her foot to the ground here, my darling.

AGATHA POSKET.

No, but can't you read between the lines, aeneas? That is the letter of a woman who is not at all well.

MR. POSKET.

All right, my darling, if you are bent upon going I will accompany you.

AGATHA POSKET.

Certainly not, aeneas--Charlotte insists on being my companion; we can keep each other warm in a closed cab.

MR. POSKET.

But can't I make a third?

AGATHA POSKET.

Don't be so forgetful, aeneas--don't you know that in a four-wheeled cab, the fewer knees there are the better.