Three Plays by Granville-Barker Part 69

BEATRICE. [_with a little smile._] Now that might make a difference. It was one of the illusions of my girlhood that I should love a man who would master me.

BOOTH. Hugh must a.s.sert himself.

_He begins to walk about, giving some indication of how it should be done._ BEATRICE'S _smile has vanished_.

BEATRICE. Don't think I've enjoyed taking the lead in everything throughout my married life. But someone had to plan and scheme and be foreseeing . . we weren't sparrows or lilies of the field . . someone had to get up and do something. [_she becomes conscious of his strutting and smiles rather mischievously._] Ah . . if I'd married you, Booth!

BOOTH'S _face grows beatific_.

BOOTH. Well, I must own to thinking that I am a masterful man . . that is the duty of every man to be so. [_he adds forgivingly._] Poor old Hugh!

BEATRICE. [_unable to resist temptation._] If I'd tried to leave you, Booth, you'd have whipped me . . wouldn't you?

BOOTH. [_ecstatically complacent._] Ha . . well . . !

BEATRICE. Do say yes. Think how it'll frighten Emily.

_The Major strokes his moustache and is most friendly._

BOOTH. Hugh's been a worry to me all my life. And now as Head of the Family . . Well, I suppose I'd better go and give the dear old chap another talking to. I quite see your point of view, Beatrice.

BEATRICE. Why disturb him at his book?

MAJOR BOOTH _leaves them, squaring his shoulders as becomes a lord of creation. The two sisters-in-law go on with their work silently for a moment; then_ BEATRICE _adds_ . .

BEATRICE. Do you find Booth difficult to manage, Emily?

EMILY. [_putting down her knitting to consider the matter._] No. It's best to allow him to talk himself out. When he's done that he'll often come to me for advice. I let him get his own way as much as possible . .

or think he's getting it. Otherwise he becomes so depressed.

BEATRICE. [_quietly amused._] Edward shouldn't hear this. What has he to do with women's secrets?

EDWARD. I won't tell . . and I'm a bachelor.

EMILY. [_solemnly as she takes up her knitting again._] Do you really mean to leave Hugh?

BEATRICE. [_slightly impatient._] Emily, I've said so.

_They are joined by_ ALICE MAITLAND, _who comes in gaily_.

ALICE. What's Booth shouting about in the billiard room?

EMILY. [_pained._] On Christmas Eve, too!

BEATRICE. Don't you take any interest in my matrimonial affairs?

MRS. VOYSEY _shuts up the Nineteenth Century and removes her spectacles_.

MRS. VOYSEY. That's a very interesting article. The Chinese Empire must be in a shocking state! Is it ten o'clock yet?

EDWARD. Past.

MRS. VOYSEY. [_as_ EDWARD _is behind her_.] Can anyone see the clock?

ALICE. It's past ten, Auntie.

MRS. VOYSEY. Then I think I'll go to my room.

EMILY. Shall I come and look after you, Mother?

MRS. VOYSEY. If you'd find Honor for me, Emily.

EMILY _goes in search of the harmless necessary_ HONOR _and_ MRS. VOYSEY _begins her nightly chant of departure_.

MRS. VOYSEY. Good night, Alice. Good night, Edward.

EDWARD. Good night, Mother.

MRS. VOYSEY. [_with sudden severity._] I'm not pleased with you, Beatrice.

BEATRICE. I'm sorry, Mother.

_But without waiting to be answered the old lady has sailed out of the room._ BEATRICE, EDWARD, _and_ ALICE _are attuned to each other enough to be able to talk with ease_.

BEATRICE. Hugh is right about his family. It'll never make any new life for itself.

EDWARD. There are Booth's children.

BEATRICE. Poor little devils!

ALICE. [_judicially._] Emily is an excellent mother.

BEATRICE. Yes . . they'll grow up good men and women. And one will go into the Army and one into the Navy and one into the Church . . and perhaps one to the Devil and the Colonies. They'll serve their country and govern it and help to keep it like themselves . . dull and respectable . . hopelessly middle-cla.s.s. [_she puts down her work now and elevates an oratorical fist._] Genius and Poverty may exist in England, if they'll hide their heads. For show days we've our aristocracy. But never let us forget, gentlemen, that it is the plain solid middle-cla.s.s man who has made us . . what we are.

EDWARD. [_in sympathetic derision._] Hear hear . . ! and cries of bravo!

BEATRICE. Now, that is out of my book . . the next one. [_she takes up her work again._] You know, Edward . . without wis.h.i.+ng to open up Painful Streets . . however scandalous it has been, your father left you a man's work to do.

EDWARD. [_his face cloudy._] An outlaw's!

BEATRICE. [_whimsical, after a moment._] I meant that. At all events you've not had to be your father's right arm . . or the instrument of justice . . or a representative of the people . . or anything second hand of that sort, have you?

EDWARD. [_with sudden excitement._] Do you know what I discovered the other day about [_he nods at the portrait._] . . him?

BEATRICE. [_enquiring calmly._] Innocence or guilt?

EDWARD. He saved his firm once . . that was true. A most capable piece of heroism. Then, fifteen years afterwards . . he started again.

BEATRICE. [_greatly interested._] Did he now?