THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON

From The Plays Of J. M. Barrie

A COMEDY

By J. M. Barrie

ACT I. AT LOAM HOUSE, MAYFAIR

A moment before the curtain rises, the Hon. Ernest Woolley drives upto the door of Loam House in Mayfair. There is a happy smile on hispleasant, insignificant face, and this presumably means that he isthinking of himself. He is too busy over nothing, this man about town, to be always thinking of himself, but, on the other hand, he almostnever thinks of any other person. Probably Ernest's great moment is whenhe wakes of a morning and realises that he really is Ernest, for we mustall wish to be that which is our ideal. We can conceive him springingout of bed light-heartedly and waiting for his man to do the rest. Heis dressed in excellent taste, with just the little bit more which showsthat he is not without a sense of humour: the dandiacal are often savedby carrying a smile at the whole thing in their spats, let us say. Ernest left Cambridge the other day, a member of The Athenaeum (whichhe would be sorry to have you confound with a club in London of the samename). He is a bachelor, but not of arts, no mean epigrammatist (as youshall see), and a favourite of the ladies. He is almost a celebrity inrestaurants, where he dines frequently, returning to sup; and duringthis last year he has probably paid as much in them for the privilege ofhanding his hat to an attendant as the rent of a working-man's flat. Hecomplains brightly that he is hard up, and that if somebody or other atWestminster does not look out the country will go to the dogs. He is nofool. He has the shrewdness to float with the current because it is alabour-saving process, but he has sufficient pluck to fight, if fighthe must (a brief contest, for he would soon be toppled over). He hasa light nature, which would enable him to bob up cheerily in newconditions and return unaltered to the old ones. His selfishness is hismost endearing quality. If he has his way he will spend his life like acat in pushing his betters out of the soft places, and until he is oldhe will be fondled in the process. 

He gives his hat to one footman and his cane to another, and mounts thegreat staircase unassisted and undirected. As a nephew of the house heneed show no credentials even to Crichton, who is guarding a door above. 

It would not be good taste to describe Crichton, who is only a servant;if to the scandal of all good houses he is to stand out as a figure inthe play, he must do it on his own, as they say in the pantry and theboudoir. 

We are not going to help him. We have had misgivings ever since we foundhis name in the title, and we shall keep him out of his rights as longas we can. Even though we softened to him he would not be a hero inthese clothes of servitude; and he loves his clothes. How to get him outof them? It would require a cataclysm. To be an indoor servant at allis to Crichton a badge of honour; to be a butler at thirty is therealisation of his proudest ambitions. He is devotedly attached to hismaster, who, in his opinion, has but one fault, he is not sufficientlycontemptuous of his inferiors. We are immediately to be introduced tothis solitary failing of a great English peer. 

This perfect butler, then, opens a door, and ushers Ernest into acertain room. At the same moment the curtain rises on this room, and theplay begins. 

It is one of several reception-rooms in Loam House, not the mostmagnificent but quite the softest; and of a warm afternoon all thatthose who are anybody crave for is the softest. The larger rooms aremagnificent and bare, carpetless, so that it is an accomplishmentto keep one's feet on them; they are sometimes lent for charitablepurposes; they are also all in use on the night of a dinner-party, whenyou may find yourself alone in one, having taken a wrong turning; oralone, save for two others who are within hailing distance. 

This room, however, is comparatively small and very soft. There areso many cushions in it that you wonder why, if you are an outsider anddon't know that, it needs six cushions to make one fair head comfy. Thecouches themselves are cushions as large as beds, and there is an artof sinking into them and of waiting to be helped out of them. There areseveral famous paintings on the walls, of which you may say 'Jolly thingthat, ' without losing caste as knowing too much; and in cases there areglorious miniatures, but the daughters of the house cannot tell you ofwhom; 'there is a catalogue somewhere. ' There are a thousand or so ofroses in basins, several library novels, and a row of weekly illustratednewspapers lying against each other like fallen soldiers. If any onedisturbs this row Crichton seems to know of it from afar and appearsnoiselessly and replaces the wanderer. One thing unexpected in such aroom is a great array of tea things. Ernest spots them with a twinkle, and has his epigram at once unsheathed. He dallies, however, beforedelivering the thrust. 

ERNEST. I perceive, from the tea cups, Crichton, that the great functionis to take place here. 

CRICHTON (with a respectful sigh). Yes, sir. 

ERNEST (chuckling heartlessly). The servants' hall coming up to have teain the drawing-room! (With terrible sarcasm. ) No wonder you look happy, Crichton. 

CRICHTON (under the knife). No, sir. 

ERNEST. Do you know, Crichton, I think that with an effort you mightlook even happier. (CRICHTON smiles wanly. ) You don't approve of hislordship's compelling his servants to be his equals--once a month?

CRICHTON. It is not for me, sir, to disapprove of his lordship's radicalviews. 

ERNEST. Certainly not. And, after all, it is only once a month that heis affable to you. 

CRICHTON. On all other days of the month, sir, his lordship's treatmentof us is everything that could be desired. 

ERNEST. (This is the epigram. ) Tea cups! Life, Crichton, is like a cupof tea; the more heartily we drink, the sooner we reach the dregs. 

CRICHTON (obediently). Thank you, sir. 

ERNEST (becoming confidential, as we do when we have need of an ally). Crichton, in case I should be asked to say a few words to the servants, I have strung together a little speech. (His hand strays to his pocket. )I was wondering where I should stand. 

(He tries various places and postures, and comes to rest leaning overa high chair, whence, in dumb show, he addresses a gathering. CRICHTON, with the best intentions, gives him a footstool to stand on, anddeparts, happily unconscious that ERNEST in some dudgeon has kicked thefootstool across the room. )

ERNEST (addressing an imaginary audience, and desirous of startling themat once). Suppose you were all little fishes at the bottom of the sea--

(He is not quite satisfied with his position, though sure that the faultmust lie with the chair for being too high, not with him for being tooshort. CRICHTON'S suggestion was not perhaps a bad one after all. Helifts the stool, but hastily conceals it behind him on the entrance ofthe LADIES CATHERINE and AGATHA, two daughters of the house. CATHERINEis twenty, and AGATHA two years younger. They are very fashionable youngwomen indeed, who might wake up for a dance, but they are very lazy, CATHERINE being two years lazier than AGATHA. )

ERNEST (uneasily jocular, because he is concealing the footstool). Andhow are my little friends to-day?

AGATHA (contriving to reach a settee). Don't be silly, Ernest. If youwant to know how we are, we are dead. Even to think of entertaining theservants is so exhausting. 

CATHERINE (subsiding nearer the door). Besides which, we have had todecide what frocks to take with us on the yacht, and that is such amental strain. 

ERNEST. You poor over-worked things. (Evidently AGATHA is his favourite, for he helps her to put her feet on the settee, while CATHERINE has todispose of her own feet. ) Rest your weary limbs. 

CATHERINE (perhaps in revenge). But why have you a footstool in yourhand?

AGATHA. Yes?

ERNEST. Why? (Brilliantly; but to be sure he has had time to think itout. ) You see, as the servants are to be the guests I must be butler. Iwas practising. This is a tray, observe. 

(Holding the footstool as a tray, he minces across the room like anaccomplished footman. The gods favour him, for just here LADY MARYenters, and he holds out the footstool to her. )

Tea, my lady?

(LADY MARY is a beautiful creature of twenty-two, and is of a naturalhauteur which is at once the fury and the envy of her sisters. If shechooses she can make you seem so insignificant that you feel you mightbe swept away with the crumb-brush. She seldom chooses, because of thetrouble of preening herself as she does it; she is usually content toshow that you merely tire her eyes. She often seems to be about to goto sleep in the middle of a remark: there is quite a long and anxiouspause, and then she continues, like a clock that hesitates, bored in themiddle of its strike. )

LADY MARY (arching her brows). It is only you, Ernest; I thought therewas some one here (and she also bestows herself on cushions). 

ERNEST (a little piqued, and deserting the footstool). Had a very tiringday also, Mary?

LADY MARY (yawning). Dreadfully. Been trying on engagement-rings all themorning. 

ERNEST (who is as fond of gossip as the oldest club member). What'sthat? (To AGATHA. ) Is it Brocklehurst?

(The energetic AGATHA nods. )

You have given your warm young heart to Brocky?

(LADY MARY is impervious to his humour, but he continues bravely. )

I don't wish to fatigue you, Mary, by insisting on a verbal answer, butif, without straining yourself, you can signify Yes or No, won't youmake the effort?

(She indolently flashes a ring on her most important finger, and hestarts back melodramatically. )

The ring! Then I am too late, too late! (Fixing LADY MARY sternly, likea prosecuting counsel. ) May I ask, Mary, does Brocky know? Of course, it was that terrible mother of his who pulled this through. Mother doeseverything for Brocky. Still, in the eyes of the law you will be, not her wife, but his, and, therefore, I hold that Brocky ought to beinformed. Now--

(He discovers that their languorous eyes have closed. )

If you girls are shamming sleep in the expectation that I shall awakenyou in the manner beloved of ladies, abandon all such hopes. 

(CATHERINE and AGATHA look up without speaking. )

LADY MARY (speaking without looking up). You impertinent boy. 

ERNEST (eagerly plucking another epigram from his quiver). I knew thatwas it, though I don't know everything. Agatha, I'm not young enough toknow everything. 

(He looks hopefully from one to another, but though they try to graspthis, his brilliance baffles them. )

AGATHA (his secret admirer). Young enough?

ERNEST (encouragingly). Don't you see? I'm not young enough to knoweverything. 

AGATHA. I'm sure it's awfully clever, but it's so puzzling. 

(Here CRICHTON ushers in an athletic, pleasant-faced young clergyman, MR. TREHERNE, who greets the company. )

CATHERINE. Ernest, say it to Mr. Treherne. 

ERNEST. Look here, Treherne, I'm not young enough to know everything. 

TREHERNE. How do you mean, Ernest?

ERNEST. (a little nettled). I mean what I say. 

LADY MARY. Say it again; say it more slowly. 

ERNEST. I'm--not--young--enough--to--know--everything. 

TREHERNE. I see. What you really mean, my boy, is that you are not oldenough to know everything. 

ERNEST. No, I don't. 

TREHERNE. I assure you that's it. 

LADY MARY. Of course it is. 

CATHERINE. Yes, Ernest, that's it. 

(ERNEST, in desperation, appeals to CRICHTON. )

ERNEST. I am not young enough, Crichton, to know everything. 

(It is an anxious moment, but a smile is at length extorted fromCRICHTON as with a corkscrew. )

CRICHTON. Thank you, sir. (He goes. )

ERNEST (relieved). Ah, if you had that fellow's head, Treherne, youwould find something better to do with it than play cricket. I hear youbowl with your head. 

TREHERNE (with proper humility). I'm afraid cricket is all I'm good for, Ernest. 

CATHERINE (who thinks he has a heavenly nose). Indeed, it isn't. You aresure to get on, Mr. Treherne. 

TREHERNE. Thank you, Lady Catherine. 

CATHERINE. But it was the bishop who told me so. He said a clergyman whobreaks both ways is sure to get on in England. 

TREHERNE. I'm jolly glad. 

(The master of the house comes in, accompanied by LORD BROCKLEHURST. The EARL OF LOAM is a widower, a philanthropist, and a peer of advancedideas. As a widower he is at least able to interfere in the domesticconcerns of his house--to rummage in the drawers, so to speak, for whichhe has felt an itching all his blameless life; his philanthropy hasopened quite a number of other drawers to him; and his advanced ideashave blown out his figure. He takes in all the weightiest monthlyreviews, and prefers those that are uncut, because he perhaps neverlooks better than when cutting them; but he does not read them, and savefor the cutting it would suit him as well merely to take in the covers. He writes letters to the papers, which are printed in a type to scalewith himself, and he is very jealous of those other correspondents whoget his type. Let laws and learning, art and commerce die, but leave thebig type to an intellectual aristocracy. He is really the reformed Houseof Lords which will come some day. 

Young LORD BROCKLEHURST is nothing save for his rank. You could pickhim up by the handful any day in Piccadilly or Holborn, buying socks--orselling them. )

LORD LOAM (expansively). You are here, Ernest. Feeling fit for thevoyage, Treherne?

TREHERNE. Looking forward to it enormously. 

LORD LOAM. That's right. (He chases his children about as if they werechickens. ) Now then, Mary, up and doing, up and doing. Time we had theservants in. They enjoy it so much. 

LADY MARY. They hate it. 

LORD LOAM. Mary, to your duties. (And he points severely to thetea-table. )

ERNEST (twinkling). Congratulations, Brocky. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (who detests humour). Thanks. 

ERNEST. Mother pleased?

LORD BROCKLEHURST (with dignity). Mother is very pleased. 

ERNEST. That's good. Do you go on the yacht with us?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Sorry I can't. And look here, Ernest, I will not becalled Brocky. 

ERNEST. Mother don't like it?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. She does not. (He leaves ERNEST, who forgives him andbegins to think about his speech. CRICHTON enters. )

LORD LOAM (speaking as one man to another). We are quite ready, Crichton. (CRICHTON is distressed. )

LADY MARY (sarcastically). How Crichton enjoys it!

LORD LOAM (frowning). He is the only one who doesn't; pitiful creature. 

CRICHTON (shuddering under his lord's displeasure). I can't help being aConservative, my lord. 

LORD LOAM. Be a man, Crichton. You are the same flesh and blood asmyself. 

CRICHTON (in pain). Oh, my lord!

LORD LOAM (sharply). Show them in; and, by the way, they were not allhere last time. 

CRICHTON. All, my lord, except the merest trifles. 

LORD LOAM. It must be every one. (Lowering. ) And remember this, Crichton, for the time being you are my equal. (Testily. ) I shall soonshow you whether you are not my equal. Do as you are told. 

(CRICHTON departs to obey, and his lordship is now a general. He has nopity for his daughters, and uses a terrible threat. )

And girls, remember, no condescension. The first who condescendsrecites. (This sends them skurrying to their labours. )

By the way, Brocklehurst, can you do anything?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. How do you mean?

LORD LOAM. Can you do anything--with a penny or a handkerchief, makethem disappear, for instance?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Good heavens, no. 

LORD LOAM. It's a pity. Every one in our position ought to be able todo something. Ernest, I shall probably ask you to say a few words;something bright and sparkling. 

ERNEST. But, my dear uncle, I have prepared nothing. 

LORD LOAM. Anything impromptu will do. 

ERNEST. Oh--well--if anything strikes me on the spur of the moment. 

(He unostentatiously gets the footstool into position behind the chair. CRICHTON reappears to announce the guests, of whom the first is thehousekeeper. )

CRICHTON (reluctantly). Mrs. Perkins. 

LORD LOAM (shaking hands). Very delighted, Mrs. Perkins. Mary, ourfriend, Mrs. Perkins. 

LADY MARY. How do you do, Mrs. Perkins? Won't you sit here?

LORD LOAM (threateningly). Agatha!

AGATHA (hastily). How do you do? Won't you sit down?

LORD LOAM (introducing). Lord Brocklehurst--my valued friend, Mrs. Perkins. 

(LORD BROCKLEHURST bows and escapes. He has to fall back on ERNEST. )

LORD BROCKLEHURST. For heaven's sake, Ernest, don't leave me for amoment; this sort of thing is utterly opposed to all my principles. 

ERNEST (airily). You stick to me, Brocky, and I'll pull you through. 

CRICHTON. Monsieur Fleury. 

ERNEST. The chef. 

LORD LOAM (shaking hands with the chef). Very charmed to see you, Monsieur Fleury. 

FLEURY. Thank you very much. 

(FLEURY bows to AGATHA, who is not effusive. )

LORD LOAM (warningly). Agatha--recitation!

(She tosses her head, but immediately finds a seat and tea for M. FLEURY. TREHERNE and ERNEST move about, making themselves amiable. LADYMARY is presiding at the tea-tray. )

CRICHTON. Mr. Rolleston. 

LORD LOAM (shaking hands with his valet). How do you do, Rolleston?

(CATHERINE looks after the wants of ROLLESTON. )

CRICHTON. Mr. Tompsett. 

(TOMPSETT, the coachman, is received with honours, from which heshrinks. )

CRICHTON. Miss Fisher. 

(This superb creature is no less than LADY MARY'S maid, and even LORDLOAM is a little nervous. )

LORD LOAM. This is a pleasure, Miss Fisher. 

ERNEST (unabashed). If I might venture, Miss Fisher (and he takes herunto himself). 

CRICHTON. Miss Simmons. 

LORD LOAM (to CATHERINE'S maid). You are always welcome, Miss Simmons. 

ERNEST (perhaps to kindle jealousy in Miss FISHER). At last we meet. Won't you sit down?

CRICHTON. Mademoiselle Jeanne. 

LORD LOAM. Charmed to see you, Mademoiselle Jeanne. 

(A place is found for AGATHA'S maid, and the scene is now an animatedone; but still our host thinks his girls are not sufficiently sociable. He frowns on LADY MARY. )

LADY MARY (in alarm). Mr. Treherne, this is Fisher, my maid. 

LORD LOAM (sharply). Your what, Mary?

LADY MARY. My friend. 

CRICHTON. Thomas. 

LORD LOAM. How do you do, Thomas?

(The first footman gives him a reluctant hand. )

CRICHTON. John. 

LORD LOAM. How do you do, John?

(ERNEST signs to LORD BROCKLEHURST, who hastens to him. )

ERNEST (introducing). Brocklehurst, this is John. I think you havealready met on the door-step. 

CRICHTON. Jane. 

(She comes, wrapping her hands miserably in her apron. )

LORD LOAM (doggedly). Give me your hand, Jane. 

CRICHTON. Gladys. 

ERNEST. How do you do, Gladys. You know my uncle?

LORD LOAM. Your hand, Gladys. 

(He bestows her on AGATHA. )

CRICHTON. Tweeny. 

(She is a very humble and frightened kitchenmaid, of whom we are to seemore. )

LORD LOAM. So happy to see you. 

FISHER. John, I saw you talking to Lord Brocklehurst just now; introduceme. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (at the same moment to ERNEST). That's an uncommonpretty girl; if I must feed one of them, Ernest, that's the one. 

(But ERNEST tries to part him and FISHER as they are about to shakehands. )

ERNEST. No you don't, it won't do, Brocky. (To Miss FISHER. ) You are toopretty, my dear. Mother wouldn't like it. (Discovering TWEENY. ) Here'ssomething safer. Charming girl, Brocky, dying to know you; let meintroduce you. Tweeny, Lord Brocklehurst--Lord Brocklehurst, Tweeny. 

(BROCKLEHURST accepts his fate; but he still has an eye for FISHER, andsomething may come of this. )

LORD LOAM (severely). They are not all here, Crichton. 

CRICHTON (with a sigh). Odds and ends. 

(A STABLE-BOY and a PAGE are shown in, and for a moment no daughter ofthe house advances to them. )

LORD LOAM (with a roving eye on his children). Which is to recite?

(The last of the company are, so to say, embraced. )

LORD LOAM (to TOMPSETT, as they partake of tea together). And how areall at home?

TOMPSETT. Fairish, my lord, if 'tis the horses you are inquiring for?

LORD LOAM. No, no, the family. How's the baby?

TOMPSETT. Blooming, your lordship. 

LORD LOAM. A very fine boy. I remember saying so when I saw him; nicelittle fellow. 

TOMPSETT (not quite knowing whether to let it pass). Beg pardon, mylord, it's a girl. 

LORD LOAM. A girl? Aha! ha! ha! exactly what I said. I distinctlyremember saying, If it's spared it will be a girl. 

(CRICHTON now comes down. )

LORD LOAM. Very delighted to see you, Crichton. 

(CRICHTON has to shake hands. )

Mary, you know Mr. Crichton?

(He wanders off in search of other prey. )

LADY MARY. Milk and sugar, Crichton?

CRICHTON. I'm ashamed to be seen talking to you, my lady. 

LADY MARY. To such a perfect servant as you all this must be mostdistasteful. (CRICHTON is too respectful to answer. ) Oh, please dospeak, or I shall have to recite. You do hate it, don't you?

CRICHTON. It pains me, your ladyship. It disturbs the etiquette of theservants' hall. After last month's meeting the pageboy, in a burst ofequality, called me Crichton. He was dismissed. 

LADY MARY. I wonder--I really do--how you can remain with us. 

CRICHTON. I should have felt compelled to give notice, my lady, if themaster had not had a seat in the Upper House. I cling to that. 

LADY MARY. Do go on speaking. Tell me, what did Mr. Ernest mean bysaying he was not young enough to know everything?

CRICHTON. I have no idea, my lady. 

LADY MARY. But you laughed. 

CRICHTON. My lady, he is the second son of a peer. 

LADY MARY. Very proper sentiments. You are a good soul, Crichton. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (desperately to TWEENY). And now tell me, have youbeen to the Opera? What sort of weather have you been having in thekitchen? (TWEENY gurgles. ) For Heaven's sake, woman, be articulate. 

CRICHTON (still talking to LADY MARY). No, my lady; his lordship maycompel us to be equal upstairs, but there will never be equality in theservants' hall. 

LORD LOAM (overhearing this). What's that? No equality? Can't you see, Crichton, that our divisions into classes are artificial, that if wewere to return to nature, which is the aspiration of my life, all wouldbe equal?

CRICHTON. If I may make so bold as to contradict your lordship--

LORD LOAM (with an effort). Go on. 

CRICHTON. The divisions into classes, my lord, are not artificial. Theyare the natural outcome of a civilised society. (To LADY MARY. ) Theremust always be a master and servants in all civilised communities, mylady, for it is natural, and whatever is natural is right. 

LORD LOAM (wincing). It is very unnatural for me to stand here and allowyou to talk such nonsense. 

CRICHTON (eagerly). Yes, my lord, it is. That is what I have beenstriving to point out to your lordship. 

AGATHA (to CATHERINE). What is the matter with Fisher? She is lookingdaggers. 

CATHERINE. The tedious creature; some question of etiquette, I suppose. 

(She sails across to FISHER. )

How are you, Fisher?

FISHER (with a toss of her head). I am nothing, my lady, I am nothing atall. 

AGATHA. Oh dear, who says so?

FISHER (affronted). His lordship has asked that kitchen wench to have asecond cup of tea. 

CATHERINE. But why not?

FISHER. If it pleases his lordship to offer it to her before offering itto me--

AGATHA. So that is it. Do you want another cup of tea, Fisher?

FISHER. No, my lady--but my position--I should have been asked first. 

AGATHA. Oh dear. 

(All this has taken some time, and by now the feeble appetites of theuncomfortable guests have been satiated. But they know there is stillanother ordeal to face--his lordship's monthly speech. Every one awaitsit with misgiving--the servants lest they should applaud, as last time, in the wrong place, and the daughters because he may be personal aboutthem, as the time before. ERNEST is annoyed that there should bethis speech at all when there is such a much better one coming, andBROCKLEHURST foresees the degradation of the peerage. All are thinkingof themselves alone save CRICHTON, who knows his master's weakness, and fears he may stick in the middle. LORD LOAM, however, advancescheerfully to his doom. He sees ERNEST'S stool, and artfully stands onit, to his nephew's natural indignation. The three ladies knit theirlips, the servants look down their noses, and the address begins. )

LORD LOAM. My friends, I am glad to see you all looking so happy. Itused to be predicted by the scoffer that these meetings would provedistasteful to you. Are they distasteful? I hear you laughing at thequestion. 

(He has not heard them, but he hears them now, the watchful CRICHTONgiving them a lead. )

No harm in saying that among us to-day is one who was formerly hostileto the movement, but who to-day has been won over. I refer to LordBrocklehurst, who, I am sure, will presently say to me that if thecharming lady now by his side has derived as much pleasure from hiscompany as he has derived from hers, he will be more than satisfied. 

(All look at TWEENY, who trembles. )

For the time being the artificial and unnatural--I say unnatural(glaring at CRICHTON, who bows slightly)--barriers of society are sweptaway. Would that they could be swept away for ever. 

(The PAGEBOY cheers, and has the one moment of prominence in his life. He grows up, marries and has children, but is never really heard ofagain. )

But that is entirely and utterly out of the question. And now for a fewmonths we are to be separated. As you know, my daughters and Mr. Ernestand Mr. Treherne are to accompany me on my yacht, on a voyage to distantparts of the earth. In less than forty-eight hours we shall be underweigh. 

(But for CRICHTON'S eye the reckless PAGEBOY would repeat his success. )

Do not think our life on the yacht is to be one long idle holiday. Myviews on the excessive luxury of the day are well known, and what Ipreach I am resolved to practise. I have therefore decided that mydaughters, instead of having one maid each as at present, shall on thisvoyage have but one maid between them. 

(Three maids rise; also three mistresses. )

CRICHTON. My lord!

LORD LOAM. My mind is made up. 

ERNEST. I cordially agree. 

LORD LOAM. And now, my friends, I should like to think that there issome piece of advice I might give you, some thought, some noble sayingover which you might ponder in my absence. In this connection I remembera proverb, which has had a great effect on my own life. I first heardit many years ago. I have never forgotten it. It constantly cheers andguides me. That proverb is--that proverb was--the proverb I speak of--

(He grows pale and taps his forehead. )

LADY MARY. Oh dear, I believe he has forgotten it. 

LORD LOAM (desperately). The proverb--that proverb to which I refer--

(Alas, it has gone. The distress is general. He has not even the senseto sit down. He gropes for the proverb in the air. They try applause, but it is no help. )

I have it now--(not he). 

LADY MARY (with confidence). Crichton. 

(He does not fail her. As quietly as if he were in goloshes, mindas well as feet, he dismisses the domestics; they go according toprecedence as they entered, yet, in a moment, they are gone. Then hesigns to MR. TREHERNE, and they conduct LORD LOAM with dignity fromthe room. His hands are still catching flies; he still mutters, 'Theproverb--that proverb'; but he continues, owing to CRICHTON'S skilfultreatment, to look every inch a peer. The ladies have now an opportunityto air their indignation. )

LADY MARY. One maid among three grown women!

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mary, I think I had better go. That dreadfulkitchenmaid--

LADY MARY. I can't blame you, George. 

(He salutes her. )

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Your father's views are shocking to me, and I am gladI am not to be one of the party on the yacht. My respect for myself, Mary, my natural anxiety as to what mother will say. I shall see you, darling, before you sail. 

(He bows to the others and goes. )

ERNEST. Selfish brute, only thinking of himself. What about my speech?

LADY MARY. One maid among three of us. What's to be done?

ERNEST. Pooh! You must do for yourselves, that's all. 

LADY MARY. Do for ourselves. How can we know where our things are kept?

AGATHA. Are you aware that dresses button up the back?

CATHERINE. How are we to get into our shoes and be prepared for thecarriage?

LADY MARY. Who is to put us to bed, and who is to get us up, and howshall we ever know it's morning if there is no one to pull up theblinds?

(CRICHTON crosses on his way out. )

ERNEST. How is his lordship now?

CRICHTON. A little easier, sir. 

LADY MARY. Crichton, send Fisher to me. 

(He goes. )

ERNEST. I have no pity for you girls, I--

LADY MARY. Ernest, go away, and don't insult the broken-hearted. 

ERNEST. And uncommon glad I am to go. Ta-ta, all of you. He asked me tosay a few words. I came here to say a few words, and I'm not at all surethat I couldn't bring an action against him. 

(He departs, feeling that he has left a dart behind him. The girls arealone with their tragic thoughts. )

LADY MARY (becomes a mother to the younger ones at last). My poorsisters, come here. (They go to her doubtfully. ) We must make this drawus closer together. I shall do my best to help you in every way. Justnow I cannot think of myself at all. 

AGATHA. But how unlike you, Mary. 

LADY MARY. It is my duty to protect my sisters. 

CATHERINE. I never knew her so sweet before, Agatha. (Cautiously. ) Whatdo you propose to do, Mary?

LADY MARY. I propose when we are on the yacht to lend Fisher to you whenI don't need her myself. 

AGATHA. Fisher?

LADY MARY (who has the most character of the three). Of course, as theeldest, I have decided that it is my maid we shall take with us. 

CATHERINE (speaking also for AGATHA). Mary, you toad. 

AGATHA. Nothing on earth would induce Fisher to lift her hand for eitherme or Catherine. 

LADY MARY. I was afraid of it, Agatha. That is why I am so sorry foryou. 

(The further exchange of pleasantries is interrupted by the arrival ofFISHER. )

LADY MARY. Fisher, you heard what his lordship said?

FISHER. Yes, my lady. 

LADY MARY (coldly, though the others would have tried blandishment). Youhave given me some satisfaction of late, Fisher, and to mark my approvalI have decided that you shall be the maid who accompanies us. 

FISHER (acidly). I thank you, my lady. 

LADY MARY. That is all; you may go. 

FISHER (rapping it out). If you please, my lady, I wish to give notice. 

(CATHERINE and AGATHA gleam, but LADY MARY is of sterner stuff. )

LADY MARY (taking up a book). Oh, certainly--you may go. 

CATHERINE. But why, Fisher?

FISHER. I could not undertake, my lady, to wait upon three. We don't doit. (In an indignant outburst to LADY MARY. ) Oh, my lady, to think thatthis affront--

LADY MARY (looking up). I thought I told you to go, Fisher. 

(FISHER stands for a moment irresolute; then goes. As soon as she hasgone LADY MARY puts down her book and weeps. She is a pretty woman, butthis is the only pretty thing we have seen her do yet. )

AGATHA (succinctly). Serves you right. 

(CRICHTON comes. )

CATHERINE. It will be Simmons after all. Send Simmons to me. 

CRICHTON (after hesitating). My lady, might I venture to speak?

CATHERINE. What is it?

CRICHTON. I happen to know, your ladyship, that Simmons desires to givenotice for the same reason as Fisher. 

CATHERINE. Oh!

AGATHA (triumphant). Then, Catherine, we take Jeanne. 

CRICHTON. And Jeanne also, my lady. 

(LADY MARY is reading, indifferent though the heavens fall, but hersisters are not ashamed to show their despair to CRICHTON. )

AGATHA. We can't blame them. Could any maid who respected herself be gotto wait upon three?

LADY MARY (with languid interest). I suppose there are such persons, Crichton?

CRICHTON (guardedly). I have heard, my lady, that there are such. 

LADY MARY (a little desperate). Crichton, what's to be done? We sail intwo days; could one be discovered in the time?

AGATHA (frankly a supplicant). Surely you can think of some one?

CRICHTON (after hesitating). There is in this establishment, yourladyship, a young woman--

LADY MARY. Yes?

CRICHTON. A young woman, on whom I have for some time cast an eye. 

CATHERINE (eagerly). Do you mean as a possible lady's-maid?

CRICHTON. I had thought of her, my lady, in another connection. 

LADY MARY. Ah!

CRICHTON. But I believe she is quite the young person you require. Perhaps if you could see her, my lady--

LADY MARY. I shall certainly see her. Bring her to me. (He goes. ) Youtwo needn't wait. 

CATHERINE. Needn't we? We see your little game, Mary. 

AGATHA. We shall certainly remain and have our two-thirds of her. 

(They sit there doggedly until CRICHTON returns with TWEENY, who looksscared. )

CRICHTON. This, my lady, is the young person. 

CATHERINE (frankly). Oh dear!

(It is evident that all three consider her quite unsuitable. )

LADY MARY. Come here, girl. Don't be afraid. 

(TWEENY looks imploringly at her idol. )

CRICHTON. Her appearance, my lady, is homely, and her manners, as youmay have observed, deplorable, but she has a heart of gold. 

LADY MARY. What is your position downstairs?

TWEENY (bobbing). I'm a tweeny, your ladyship. 

CATHERINE. A what?

CRICHTON. A tweeny; that is to say, my lady, she is not at present, strictly speaking, anything; a between maid; she helps the vegetablemaid. It is she, my lady, who conveys the dishes from the one end ofthe kitchen table, where they are placed by the cook, to the other end, where they enter into the charge of Thomas and John. 

LADY MARY. I see. And you and Crichton are--ah--keeping company?

(CRICHTON draws himself up. )

TWEENY (aghast). A butler don't keep company, my lady. 

LADY MARY (indifferently). Does he not?

CRICHTON. No, your ladyship, we butlers may--(he makes a gesture withhis arms)--but we do not keep company. 

AGATHA. I know what it is; you are engaged?

(TWEENY looks longingly at CRICHTON. )

CRICHTON. Certainly not, my lady. The utmost I can say at present isthat I have cast a favourable eye. 

(Even this is much to TWEENY. )

LADY MARY. As you choose. But I am afraid, Crichton, she will not suitus. 

CRICHTON. My lady, beneath this simple exterior are concealed a verysweet nature and rare womanly gifts. 

AGATHA. Unfortunately, that is not what we want. 

CRICHTON. And it is she, my lady, who dresses the hair of theladies'-maids for our evening meals. 

(The ladies are interested at last. )

LADY MARY. She dresses Fisher's hair?

TWEENY. Yes, my lady, and I does them up when they goes to parties. 

CRICHTON (pained, but not scolding). Does!

TWEENY. Doos. And it's me what alters your gowns to fit them. 

CRICHTON. What alters!

TWEENY. Which alters. 

AGATHA. Mary?

LADY MARY. I shall certainly have her. 

CATHERINE. We shall certainly have her. Tweeny, we have decided to makea lady's-maid of you. 

TWEENY. Oh lawks!

AGATHA. We are doing this for you so that your position socially may bemore nearly akin to that of Crichton. 

CRICHTON (gravely). It will undoubtedly increase the young person'schances. 

LADY MARY. Then if I get a good character for you from Mrs. Perkins, shewill make the necessary arrangements. 

(She resumes reading. )

TWEENY (elated). My lady!

LADY MARY. By the way, I hope you are a good sailor. 

TWEENY (startled). You don't mean, my lady, I'm to go on the ship?

LADY MARY. Certainly. 

TWEENY. But--(To CRICHTON. ) You ain't going, sir?

CRICHTON. No. 

TWEENY (firm at last). Then neither ain't I. 

AGATHA. YOU must. 

TWEENY. Leave him! Not me. 

LADY MARY. Girl, don't be silly. Crichton will be--considered in yourwages. 

TWEENY. I ain't going. 

CRICHTON. I feared this, my lady. 

TWEENY. Nothing'll budge me. 

LADY MARY. Leave the room. 

(CRICHTON shows TWEENY out with marked politeness. )

AGATHA. Crichton, I think you might have shown more displeasure withher. 

CRICHTON (contrite). I was touched, my lady. I see, my lady, that topart from her would be a wrench to me, though I could not well say so inher presence, not having yet decided how far I shall go with her. 

(He is about to go when LORD LOAM returns, fuming. )

LORD LOAM. The ingrate! The smug! The fop!

CATHERINE. What is it now, father?

LORD LOAM. That man of mine, Rolleston, refuses to accompany us becauseyou are to have but one maid. 

AGATHA. Hurrah!

LADY MARY (in better taste). Darling father, rather than you should loseRolleston, we will consent to take all the three of them. 

LORD LOAM. Pooh, nonsense! Crichton, find me a valet who can do withoutthree maids. 

CRICHTON. Yes, my lord. (Troubled. ) In the time--the more suitable theparty, my lord, the less willing will he be to come without the--theusual perquisites. 

LORD LOAM. Any one will do. 

CRICHTON (shocked). My lord!

LORD LOAM. The ingrate! The puppy!

(AGATHA has an idea, and whispers to LADY MARY. )

LADY MARY. I ask a favour of a servant?--never!

AGATHA. Then I will. Crichton, would it not be very distressing to youto let his lordship go, attended by a valet who might prove unworthy? Itis only for three months; don't you think that you--you yourself--you--

(As CRICHTON sees what she wants he pulls himself up with noble, offended dignity, and she is appalled. )

I beg your pardon. 

(He bows stiffly. )

CATHERINE (to CRICHTON). But think of the joy to Tweeny. 

(CRICHTON is moved, but he shakes his head. )

LADY MARY (so much the cleverest). Crichton, do you think it safe tolet the master you love go so far away without you while he has thesedangerous views about equality?

(CRICHTON is profoundly stirred. After a struggle he goes to his master, who has been pacing the room. )

CRICHTON. My lord, I have found a man. 

LORD LOAM. Already? Who is he?

(CRICHTON presents himself with a gesture. )

Yourself?

CATHERINE. Father, how good of him. 

LORD LOAM (pleased, but thinking it a small thing). Uncommon good. Thankyou, Crichton. This helps me nicely out of a hole; and how it will annoyRolleston! Come with me, and we shall tell him. Not that I think youhave lowered yourself in any way. Come along. 

(He goes, and CRICHTON is to follow him, but is stopped by AGATHAimpulsively offering him her hand. )

CRICHTON (who is much shaken). My lady--a valet's hand!

AGATHA. I had no idea you would feel it so deeply; why did you do it?

(CRICHTON is too respectful to reply. )

LADY MARY (regarding him). Crichton, I am curious. I insist upon ananswer. 

CRICHTON. My lady, I am the son of a butler and a lady's-maid--perhapsthe happiest of all combinations, and to me the most beautiful thing inthe world is a haughty, aristocratic English house, with every one keptin his place. Though I were equal to your ladyship, where would be thepleasure to me? It would be counterbalanced by the pain of feeling thatThomas and John were equal to me. 

CATHERINE. But father says if we were to return to nature--

CRICHTON. If we did, my lady, the first thing we should do would be toelect a head. Circumstances might alter cases; the same person mightnot be master; the same persons might not be servants. I can't say as tothat, nor should we have the deciding of it. Nature would decide for us. 

LADY MARY. You seem to have thought it all out carefully, Crichton. 

CRICHTON. Yes, my lady. 

CATHERINE. And you have done this for us, Crichton, because you thoughtthat--that father needed to be kept in his place?

CRICHTON. I should prefer you to say, my lady, that I have done it forthe house. 

AGATHA. Thank you, Crichton. Mary, be nicer to him. (But LADY MARY hasbegun to read again. ) If there was any way in which we could show ourgratitude. 

CRICHTON. If I might venture, my lady, would you kindly show it bybecoming more like Lady Mary. That disdain is what we like fromour superiors. Even so do we, the upper servants, disdain the lowerservants, while they take it out of the odds and ends. 

(He goes, and they bury themselves in cushions. )

AGATHA. Oh dear, what a tiring day. 

CATHERINE. I feel dead. Tuck in your feet, you selfish thing. 

(LADY MARY is lying reading on another couch. )

LADY MARY. I wonder what he meant by circumstances might alter cases. 

AGATHA (yawning). Don't talk, Mary, I was nearly asleep. 

LADY MARY. I wonder what he meant by the same person might not bemaster, and the same persons might not be servants. 

CATHERINE. Do be quiet, Mary, and leave it to nature; he said naturewould decide. 

LADY MARY. I wonder--

(But she does not wonder very much. She would wonder more if she knewwhat was coming. Her book slips unregarded to the floor. The ladies areat rest until it is time to dress. )

End of Act I. 

ACT II. THE ISLAND

Two months have elapsed, and the scene is a desert island in thePacific, on which our adventurers have been wrecked. 

The curtain rises on a sea of bamboo, which shuts out all view save thefoliage of palm trees and some gaunt rocks. Occasionally Crichton andTreherne come momentarily into sight, hacking and hewing the bamboo, through which they are making a clearing between the ladies andthe shore; and by and by, owing to their efforts, we shall have anunrestricted outlook on to a sullen sea that is at present hidden. Thenwe shall also be able to note a mast standing out of the water--all thatis left, saving floating wreckage, of the ill-fated yacht the Bluebell. The beginnings of a hut will also be seen, with Crichton driving itswalls into the ground or astride its roof of saplings, for at present heis doing more than one thing at a time. In a red shirt, with the ends ofhis sailor's breeches thrust into wading-boots, he looks a man forthe moment; we suddenly remember some one's saying--perhaps it wasourselves--that a cataclysm would be needed to get him out of hisservant's clothes, and apparently it has been forthcoming. It is nolonger beneath our dignity to cast an inquiring eye on his appearance. His features are not distinguished, but he has a strong jaw and greeneyes, in which a yellow light burns that we have not seen before. Hisdark hair, hitherto so decorously sleek, has been ruffled this way andthat by wind and weather, as if they were part of the cataclysm andwanted to help his chance. His muscles must be soft and flabby still, but though they shriek aloud to him to desist, he rains lusty blows withhis axe, like one who has come upon the open for the first time in hislife, and likes it. He is as yet far from being an expert woodsman--markthe blood on his hands at places where he has hit them instead of thetree; but note also that he does not waste time in bandaging them--herubs them in the earth and goes on. His face is still of the discreetpallor that befits a butler, and he carries the smaller logs as if theywere a salver; not in a day or a month will he shake off the badge ofservitude, but without knowing it he has begun. 

But for the hatchets at work, and an occasional something horriblefalling from a tree into the ladies' laps, they hear nothing save themournful surf breaking on a coral shore. 

They sit or recline huddled together against a rock, and they arefarther from home, in every sense of the word, than ever before. Thirty-six hours ago, they were given three minutes in which to dress, without a maid, and reach the boats, and they have not made the bestof that valuable time. None of them has boots, and had they known thisprickly island they would have thought first of boots. They have asufficiency of garments, but some of them were gifts dropped into theboat--Lady Mary's tarpaulin coat and hat, for instance, and Catherine'sblue jersey and red cap, which certify that the two ladies were latelybefore the mast. Agatha is too gay in Ernest's dressing-gown, andclutches it to her person with both hands as if afraid that it may beclaimed by its rightful owner. There are two pairs of bath slippersbetween the three of them, and their hair cries aloud and in vain forhairpins. 

By their side, on an inverted bucket, sits Ernest, clothed neatly inthe garments of day and night, but, alas, bare-footed. He is the onlycheerful member of this company of four, but his brightness is due lessto a manly desire to succour the helpless than to his having been latelyin the throes of composition, and to his modest satisfaction with theresult. He reads to the ladies, and they listen, each with one scaredeye to the things that fall from trees. 

ERNEST (who has written on the fly-leaf of the only book saved from thewreck). This is what I have written. 'Wrecked, wrecked, wrecked! on anisland in the Tropics, the following: the Hon. Ernest Woolley, the Rev. John Treherne, the Ladies Mary, Catherine, and Agatha Lasenby, with twoservants. We are the sole survivors of Lord Loam's steam yacht Bluebell, which encountered a fearful gale in these seas, and soon became a totalwreck. The crew behaved gallantly, putting us all into the first boat. What became of them I cannot tell, but we, after dreadful sufferings, and insufficiently clad, in whatever garments we could lay hold of inthe dark'--

LADY MARY. Please don't describe our garments. 

ERNEST. --'succeeded in reaching this island, with the loss of only oneof our party, namely, Lord Loam, who flung away his life in a gallantattempt to save a servant who had fallen overboard. ' (The ladies havewept long and sore for their father, but there is something in this lastutterance that makes them look up. )

AGATHA. But, Ernest, it was Crichton who jumped overboard trying to savefather. 

ERNEST (with the candour that is one of his most engaging qualities). Well, you know, it was rather silly of uncle to fling away his life bytrying to get into the boat first; and as this document may be printedin the English papers, it struck me, an English peer, you know--

LADY MARY (every inch an English peer's daughter). Ernest, that is verythoughtful of you. 

ERNEST (continuing, well pleased). --'By night the cries of wild cats andthe hissing of snakes terrify us extremely'--(this does not satisfyhim so well, and he makes a correction)--'terrify the ladies extremely. Against these we have no weapons except one cutlass and a hatchet. Abucket washed ashore is at present our only comfortable seat'--

LADY MARY (with some spirit). And Ernest is sitting on it. 

ERNEST. H'sh! Oh, do be quiet. --'To add to our horrors, night fallssuddenly in these parts, and it is then that savage animals begin toprowl and roar. '

LADY MARY. Have you said that vampire bats suck the blood from our toesas we sleep?

ERNEST. No, that's all. I end up, 'Rescue us or we perish. Rich reward. Signed Ernest Woolley, in command of our little party. ' This is writtenon a leaf taken out of a book of poems that Crichton found in hispocket. Fancy Crichton being a reader of poetry. Now I shall put it intothe bottle and fling it into the sea. 

(He pushes the precious document into a soda-water bottle, and rams thecork home. At the same moment, and without effort, he gives birth to oneof his most characteristic epigrams. )

The tide is going out, we mustn't miss the post. 

(They are so unhappy that they fail to grasp it, and a little petulantlyhe calls for CRICHTON, ever his stand-by in the hour of epigram. CRICHTON breaks through the undergrowth quickly, thinking the ladies arein danger. )

CRICHTON. Anything wrong, sir?

ERNEST (with fine confidence). The tide, Crichton, is a postman whocalls at our island twice a day for letters. 

CRICHTON (after a pause). Thank you, sir. 

(He returns to his labours, however, without giving the smile which isthe epigrammatist's right, and ERNEST is a little disappointed in him. )

ERNEST. Poor Crichton! I sometimes think he is losing his sense ofhumour. Come along, Agatha. 

(He helps his favourite up the rocks, and they disappear gingerly fromview. )

CATHERINE. How horribly still it is. 

LADY MARY (remembering some recent sounds). It is best when it is still. 

CATHERINE (drawing closer to her). Mary, I have heard that they arealways very still just before they jump. 

LADY MARY. Don't. (A distinct chapping is heard, and they are startled. )

LADY MARY (controlling herself). It is only Crichton knocking downtrees. 

CATHERINE (almost imploringly). Mary, let us go and stand beside him. 

LADY MARY (coldly). Let a servant see that I am afraid!

CATHERINE. Don't, then; but remember this, dear, they often drop on onefrom above. 

(She moves away, nearer to the friendly sound of the axe, and LADYMARY is left alone. She is the most courageous of them as well as thehaughtiest, but when something she had thought to be a stick glidestoward her, she forgets her dignity and screams. )

LADY MARY (calling). Crichton, Crichton!

(It must have been TREHERNE who was tree-felling, for CRICHTON comes toher from the hut, drawing his cutlass. )

CRICHTON (anxious). Did you call, my lady?

LADY MARY (herself again, now that he is there). I! Why should I?

CRICHTON. I made a mistake, your ladyship. (Hesitating. ) If you areafraid of being alone, my lady--

LADY MARY. Afraid! Certainly not. (Doggedly. ) You may go. 

(But she does not complain when he remains within eyesight cutting thebamboo. It is heavy work, and she watches him silently. )

LADY MARY. I wish, Crichton, you could work without getting so hot. 

CRICHTON (mopping his face). I wish I could, my lady. 

(He continues his labours. )

LADY MARY (taking off her oilskins). It makes me hot to look at you. 

CRICHTON. It almost makes me cool to look at your ladyship. 

LADY MARY (who perhaps thinks he is presuming). Anything I can do foryou in that way, Crichton, I shall do with pleasure. 

CRICHTON (quite humbly). Thank you, my lady. 

(By this time most of the bamboo has been cut, and the shore and seaare visible, except where they are hidden by the half completed hut. Themast rising solitary from the water adds to the desolation of the scene, and at last tears run down LADY MARY'S face. )

CRICHTON. Don't give way, my lady, things might be worse. 

LADY MARY. My poor father. 

CRICHTON. If I could have given my life for his. 

LADY MARY. You did all a man could do. Indeed I thank you, Crichton. (With some admiration and more wonder. ) You are a man. 

CRICHTON. Thank you, my lady. 

LADY MARY. But it is all so awful. Crichton, is there any hope of a shipcoming?

CRICHTON (after hesitation). Of course there is, my lady. 

LADY MARY (facing him bravely). Don't treat me as a child. I have got toknow the worst, and to face it. Crichton, the truth. 

CRICHTON (reluctantly). We were driven out of our course, my lady; Ifear far from the track of commerce. 

LADY MARY. Thank you; I understand. 

(For a moment, however, she breaks down. Then she clenches her hands andstands erect. )

CRICHTON (watching her, and forgetting perhaps for the moment that theyare not just a man and woman). You're a good pluckt 'un, my lady. 

LADY MARY (falling into the same error). I shall try to be. (Extricatingherself. ) Crichton, how dare you?

CRICHTON. I beg your ladyship's pardon; but you are. 

(She smiles, as if it were a comfort to be told this even by CRICHTON. )

And until a ship comes we are three men who are going to do our best foryou ladies. 

LADY MARY (with a curl of the lip). Mr. Ernest does no work. 

CRICHTON (cheerily). But he will, my lady. 

LADY MARY. I doubt it. 

CRICHTON (confidently, but perhaps thoughtlessly). No work--nodinner--will make a great change in Mr. Ernest. 

LADY MARY. No work--no dinner. When did you invent that rule, Crichton?

CRICHTON (loaded with bamboo). I didn't invent it, my lady. I seem tosee it growing all over the island. 

LADY MARY (disquieted). Crichton, your manner strikes me as curious. 

CRICHTON (pained). I hope not, your ladyship. 

LADY MARY (determined to have it out with him). You are not implyinganything so unnatural, I presume, as that if I and my sisters don't workthere will be no dinner for us?

CRICHTON (brightly). If it is unnatural, my lady, that is the end of it. 

LADY MARY. If? Now I understand. The perfect servant at home holds thatwe are all equal now. I see. 

CRICHTON (wounded to the quick). My lady, can you think me soinconsistent?

LADY MARY. That is it. 

CRICHTON (earnestly). My lady, I disbelieved in equality at home becauseit was against nature, and for that same reason I as utterly disbelievein it on an island. 

LADY MARY (relieved by his obvious sincerity). I apologise. 

CRICHTON (continuing unfortunately). There must always, my lady, be oneto command and others to obey. 

LADY MARY (satisfied). One to command, others to obey. Yes. (Thensuddenly she realises that there may be a dire meaning in his confidentwords. ) Crichton!

CRICHTON (who has intended no dire meaning). What is it, my lady?

(But she only stares into his face and then hurries from him. Left alonehe is puzzled, but being a practical man he busies himself gatheringfirewood, until TWEENY appears excitedly carrying cocoa-nuts in herskirt. She has made better use than the ladies of her three minutes'grace for dressing. )

TWEENY (who can be happy even on an island if CRICHTON is with her). Look what I found. 

CRICHTON. Cocoa-nuts. Bravo!

TWEENY. They grows on trees. 

CRICHTON. Where did you think they grew?

TWEENY. I thought as how they grew in rows on top of little sticks. 

CRICHTON (wrinkling his brows). Oh Tweeny, Tweeny!

TWEENY (anxiously). Have I offended of your feelings again, sir?

CRICHTON. A little. 

TWEENY (in a despairing outburst). I'm full o' vulgar words and ways;and though I may keep them in their holes when you are by, as soon asI'm by myself out they comes in a rush like beetles when the house isdark. I says them gloating-like, in my head--'Blooming' I says, and'All my eye, ' and 'Ginger, ' and 'Nothink'; and all the time we was beingwrecked I was praying to myself, 'Please the Lord it may be an island asit's natural to be vulgar on. '

(A shudder passes through CRICHTON, and she is abject. )

That's the kind I am, sir. I'm 'opeless. You'd better give me up. 

(She is a pathetic, forlorn creature, and his manhood is stirred. )

CRICHTON (wondering a little at himself for saying it). I won't give youup. It is strange that one so common should attract one so fastidious;but so it is. (Thoughtfully. ) There is something about you, Tweeny, there is a je ne sais quoi about you. 

TWEENY (knowing only that he has found something in her to commend). Isthere, is there? Oh, I am glad. 

CRICHTON (putting his hand on her shoulder like a protector). We shallfight your vulgarity together. (All this time he has been arrangingsticks for his fire. ) Now get some dry grass. (She brings him grass, andhe puts it under the sticks. He produces an odd lens from his pocket, and tries to focus the sun's rays. )

TWEENY. Why, what's that?

CRICHTON (the ingenious creature). That's the glass from my watch andone from Mr. Treherne's, with a little water between them. I'm hoping tokindle a fire with it. 

TWEENY (properly impressed). Oh sir!

(After one failure the grass takes fire, and they are blowing on it whenexcited cries near by bring them sharply to their feet. AGATHA runs tothem, white of face, followed by ERNEST. )

ERNEST. Danger! Crichton, a tiger-cat!

CRICHTON (getting his cutlass). Where?

AGATHA. It is at our heels. 

ERNEST. Look out, Crichton. 

CRICHTON. H'sh!

(TREHERNE comes to his assistance, while LADY MARY and CATHERINE joinAGATHA in the hut. ) ERNEST. It will be on us in a moment. (He seizesthe hatchet and guards the hut. It is pleasing to see that ERNEST is nocoward. )

TREHERNE. Listen!

ERNEST. The grass is moving. It's coming. 

(It comes. But it is no tiger-cat; it is LORD LOAM crawling on his handsand knees, a very exhausted and dishevelled peer, wondrously attired inrags. The girls see him, and with glad cries rush into his arms. )

LADY MARY. Father. 

LORD LOAM. Mary--Catherine--Agatha. Oh dear, my dears, my dears, ohdear!

LADY MARY. Darling. 

AGATHA. Sweetest. 

CATHERINE. Love. 

TREHERNE. Glad to see you, sir. 

ERNEST. Uncle, uncle, dear old uncle. 

(For a time such happy cries fill the air, but presently TREHERNE isthoughtless. )

TREHERNE. Ernest thought you were a tiger-cat. 

LORD LOAM (stung somehow to the quick). Oh, did you? I knew you at once, Ernest; I knew you by the way you ran. 

(ERNEST smiles forgivingly. )

CRICHTON (venturing forward at last). My lord, I am glad. 

ERNEST (with upraised finger). But you are also idling, Crichton. (Making himself comfortable on the ground. ) We mustn't waste time. Towork, to work. 

CRICHTON (after contemplating him without rancour). Yes, sir. 

(He gets a pot from the hut and hangs it on a tripod over the fire, which is now burning brightly. )

TREHERNE. Ernest, you be a little more civil. Crichton, let me help. 

(He is soon busy helping CRICHTON to add to the strength of the hut. )

LORD LOAM (gazing at the pot as ladies are said to gaze on preciousstones). Is that--but I suppose I'm dreaming again. (Timidly. ) It isn'tby any chance a pot on top of a fire, is it?

LADY MARY. Indeed, it is, dearest. It is our supper. 

LORD LOAM. I have been dreaming of a pot on a fire for two days. (Quivering. ) There 's nothing in it, is there?

ERNEST. Sniff, uncle. (LORD LOAM sniffs. )

LORD LOAM (reverently). It smells of onions!

(There is a sudden diversion. )

CATHERINE. Father, you have boots!

LADY MARY. So he has. 

LORD LOAM. Of course I have. 

ERNEST (with greedy cunning). You are actually wearing boots, uncle. It's very unsafe, you know, in this climate. 

LORD LOAM. Is it?

ERNEST. We have all abandoned them, you observe. The blood, thearteries, you know. 

LORD LOAM. I hadn't a notion. 

(He holds out his feet, and ERNEST kneels. )

ERNEST. O Lord, yes. 

(In another moment those boots will be his. )

LADY MARY (quickly). Father, he is trying to get your boots from you. There is nothing in the world we wouldn't give for boots. 

ERNEST (rising haughtily, a proud spirit misunderstood). I only wantedthe loan of them. 

AGATHA (running her fingers along them lovingly). If you lend them toany one, it will be to us, won't it, father. 

LORD LOAM. Certainly, my child. 

ERNEST. Oh, very well. (He is leaving these selfish ones. ) I don't wantyour old boots. (He gives his uncle a last chance. ) You don't think youcould spare me one boot?

LORD LOAM (tartly). I do not. 

ERNEST. Quite so. Well, all I can say is I'm sorry for you. 

(He departs to recline elsewhere. )

LADY MARY. Father, we thought we should never see you again. 

LORD LOAM. I was washed ashore, my dear, clinging to a hencoop. Howawful that first night was. 

LADY MARY. Poor father. 

LORD LOAM. When I woke, I wept. Then I began to feel extremely hungry. There was a large turtle on the beach. I remembered from the SwissFamily Robinson that if you turn a turtle over he is helpless. My dears, I crawled towards him, I flung myself upon him--(here he pauses to rubhis leg)--the nasty, spiteful brute. 

LADY MARY. You didn't turn him over?

LORD LOAM (vindictively, though he is a kindly man). Mary, the senselessthing wouldn't wait; I found that none of them would wait. 

CATHERINE. We should have been as badly off if Crichton hadn't--

LADY MARY (quickly). Don't praise Crichton. 

LORD LOAM. And then those beastly monkeys, I always understood that ifyou flung stones at them they would retaliate by flinging cocoa-nuts atyou. Would you believe it, I flung a hundred stones, and not one monkeyhad sufficient intelligence to grasp my meaning. How I longed forCrichton. 

LADY MARY (wincing). For us also, father?

LORD LOAM. For you also. I tried for hours to make a fire. The authorssay that when wrecked on an island you can obtain a light by rubbing twopieces of stick together. (With feeling. ) The liars!

LADY MARY. And all this time you thought there was no one on the islandbut yourself?

LORD LOAM. I thought so until this morning. I was searching the poolsfor little fishes, which I caught in my hat, when suddenly I saw beforeme--on the sand--

CATHERINE. What?

LORD LOAM. A hairpin. 

LADY MARY. A hairpin! It must be one of ours. Give it me, father. 

AGATHA. No, it's mine. 

LORD LOAM. I didn't keep it. 

LADY MARY (speaking for all three). Didn't keep it? Found a hairpin onan island, and didn't keep it?

LORD LOAM (humbly). My dears. 

AGATHA (scarcely to be placated). Oh father, we have returned to naturemore than you bargained for. 

LADY MARY. For shame, Agatha. (She has something on her mind. ) Father, there is something I want you to do at once--I mean to assert yourposition as the chief person on the island. 

(They are all surprised. )

LORD LOAM. But who would presume to question it?

CATHERINE. She must mean Ernest. 

LADY MARY. Must I?

AGATHA. It's cruel to say anything against Ernest. 

LORD LOAM (firmly). If any one presumes to challenge my position, Ishall make short work of him. 

AGATHA. Here comes Ernest; now see if you can say these horrid things tohis face. 

LORD LOAM. I shall teach him his place at once. 

LADY MARY (anxiously). But how?

LORD LOAM (chuckling). I have just thought of an extremely amusing wayof doing it. (As ERNEST approaches. ) Ernest. 

ERNEST (loftily). Excuse me, uncle, I'm thinking. I'm planning out thebuilding of this hut. 

LORD LOAM. I also have been thinking. 

ERNEST. That don't matter. 

LORD LOAM. Eh?

ERNEST. Please, please, this is important. 

LORD LOAM. I have been thinking that I ought to give you my boots. 

ERNEST. What!

LADY MARY. Father. 

LORD LOAM (genially). Take them, my boy. (With a rapidity we had notthought him capable of, ERNEST becomes the wearer of the boots. ) And nowI dare say you want to know why I give them to you, Ernest?

ERNEST (moving up and down in them deliciously). Not at all. The greatthing is, 'I've got 'em, I've got 'em. '

LORD LOAM (majestically, but with a knowing look at his daughters). Myreason is that, as head of our little party, you, Ernest, shall be ourhunter, you shall clear the forests of those savage beasts that makethem so dangerous. (Pleasantly. ) And now you know, my dear nephew, why Ihave given you my boots. 

ERNEST. This is my answer. 

(He kicks off the boots. )

LADY MARY (still anxious). Father, assert yourself. 

LORD LOAM. I shall now assert myself. (But how to do it? He has a happythought. ) Call Crichton. 

LADY MARY. Oh father. 

(CRICHTON comes in answer to a summons, and is followed by TREHERNE. )

ERNEST (wondering a little at LADY MARY'S grave face). Crichton, lookhere. 

LORD LOAM (sturdily). Silence! Crichton, I want your advice as to what Iought to do with Mr. Ernest. He has defied me. 

ERNEST. Pooh!

CRICHTON (after considering). May I speak openly, my lord?

LADY MARY (keeping her eyes fixed on him). That is what we desire. 

CRICHTON (quite humbly). Then I may say, your lordship, that I have beenconsidering Mr. Ernest's case at odd moments ever since we were wrecked. 

ERNEST. My case?

LORD LOAM (sternly). Hush. 

CRICHTON. Since we landed on the island, my lord, it seems to me thatMr. Ernest's epigrams have been particularly brilliant. 

ERNEST (gratified). Thank you, Crichton. 

CRICHTON. But I find--I seem to find it growing wild, my lord, in thewoods, that sayings which would be justly admired in England are notmuch use on an island. I would therefore most respectfully propose thathenceforth every time Mr. Ernest favours us with an epigram his headshould be immersed in a bucket of cold spring water. 

(There is a terrible silence. )

LORD LOAM (uneasily). Serve him right. 

ERNEST. I should like to see you try to do it, uncle. 

CRICHTON (ever ready to come to the succour of his lordship). Myfeeling, my lord, is that at the next offence I should convey him to aretired spot, where I shall carry out the undertaking in as respectful amanner as is consistent with a thorough immersion. 

(Though his manner is most respectful, he is firm; he evidently meanswhat he says. )

LADY MARY (a ramrod). Father, you must not permit this; Ernest is yournephew. 

LORD LOAM (with his hand to his brow). After all, he is my nephew, Crichton; and, as I am sure, he now sees that I am a strong man--

ERNEST (foolishly in the circumstances). A strong man. You mean a stoutman. You are one of mind to two of matter. (He looks round in the oldway for approval. No one has smiled, and to his consternation hesees that CRICHTON is quietly turning up his sleeves. ERNEST makes anappealing gesture to his uncle; then he turns defiantly to CRICHTON. )

CRICHTON. Is it to be before the ladies, Mr. Ernest, or in the privacyof the wood? (He fixes ERNEST with his eye. ERNEST is cowed. ) Come. 

ERNEST (affecting bravado). Oh, all right. 

CRICHTON (succinctly). Bring the bucket. 

(ERNEST hesitates. He then lifts the bucket and follows CRICHTON to thenearest spring. )

LORD LOAM (rather white). I'm sorry for him, but I had to be firm. 

LADY MARY. Oh father, it wasn't you who was firm. Crichton did ithimself. 

LORD LOAM. Bless me, so he did. 

LADY MARY. Father, be strong. 

LORD LOAM (bewildered). You can't mean that my faithful Crichton--

LADY MARY. Yes, I do. 

TREHERNE. Lady Mary, I stake my word that Crichton is incapable ofacting dishonourably. 

LADY MARY. I know that; I know it as well as you. Don't you see thatthat is what makes him so dangerous?

TREHERNE. By Jove, I--I believe I catch your meaning. 

CATHERINE. He is coming back. 

LORD LOAM (who has always known himself to be a man of ideas). Let usall go into the hut, just to show him at once that it is our hut. 

LADY MARY (as they go). Father, I implore you, assert yourself now andfor ever. 

LORD LOAM. I will. 

LADY MARY. And, please, don't ask him how you are to do it. 

(CRICHTON returns with sticks to mend the fire. )

LORD LOAM (loftily, from the door of the hut). Have you carried out myinstructions, Crichton?

CRICHTON (deferentially). Yes, my lord. 

(ERNEST appears, mopping his hair, which has become very wet sincewe last saw him. He is not bearing malice, he is too busy drying, butAGATHA is specially his champion. )

AGATHA. It's infamous, infamous. 

LORD LOAM: (strongly). My orders, Agatha. 

LADY MARY. Now, father, please. 

LORD LOAM (striking an attitude). Before I give you any further orders, Crichton--

CRICHTON. Yes, my lord. 

LORD LOAM. (delighted) Pooh! It's all right. 

LADY MARY. No. Please go on. 

LORD LOAM. Well, well. This question of the leadership; what do youthink now, Crichton?

CRICHTON. My lord, I feel it is a matter with which I have nothing todo. 

LORD LOAM. Excellent. Ha, Mary? That settles it, I think. 

LADY MARY. It seems to, but--I'm not sure. 

CRICHTON. It will settle itself naturally, my lord, without anyinterference from us. 

(The reference to nature gives general dissatisfaction. )

LADY MARY. Father. 

LORD LOAM (a little severely). It settled itself long ago, Crichton, when I was born a peer, and you, for instance, were born a servant. 

CRICHTON (acquiescing). Yes, my lord, that was how it all came aboutquite naturally in England. We had nothing to do with it there, and weshall have as little to do with it here. 

TREHERNE (relieved). That's all right. 

LADY MARY (determined to clinch the matter). One moment. In short, Crichton, his lordship will continue to be our natural head. 

CRICHTON. I dare say, my lady, I dare say. 

CATHERINE. But you must know. 

CRICHTON. Asking your pardon, my lady, one can't be sure--on an island. 

(They look at each other uneasily. )

LORD LOAM (warningly). Crichton, I don't like this. 

CRICHTON (harassed). The more I think of it, your lordship, the moreuneasy I become myself. When I heard, my lord, that you had left thathairpin behind--(He is pained. )

LORD LOAM (feebly). One hairpin among so many would only have causeddissension. 

CRICHTON (very sorry to have to contradict him). Not so, my lord. Fromthat hairpin we could have made a needle; with that needle we could, outof skins, have sewn trousers of which your lordship is in need; indeed, we are all in need of them. 

LADY MARY (suddenly self-conscious). All?

CRICHTON. On an island, my lady. 

LADY MARY. Father. 

CRICHTON (really more distressed by the prospect than she). My lady, ifnature does not think them necessary, you may be sure she will not askyou to wear them. (Shaking his head. ) But among all this undergrowth--

LADY MARY. Now you see this man in his true colours. 

LORD LOAM (violently). Crichton, you will either this moment say, 'Downwith nature, '. 

CRICHTON (scandalised). My Lord!

LORD LOAM (loftily). Then this is my last word to you; take a month'snotice. 

(If the hut had a door he would now shut it to indicate that theinterview is closed. )

CRICHTON (in great distress). Your lordship, the disgrace--

LORD LOAM (swelling). Not another word: you may go. 

LADY MARY (adamant). And don't come to me, Crichton, for a character. 

ERNEST (whose immersion has cleared his brain). Aren't you allforgetting that this is an island?

(This brings them to earth with a bump. LORD LOAM looks to his eldestdaughter for the fitting response. )

LADY MARY (equal to the occasion). It makes only this difference--thatyou may go at once, Crichton, to some other part of the island. 

(The faithful servant has been true to his superiors ever since he wascreated, and never more true than at this moment; but his fidelity isfounded on trust in nature, and to be untrue to it would be to be untrueto them. He lets the wood he has been gathering slip to the ground, and bows his sorrowful head. He turns to obey. Then affection for thesegreat ones wells up in him. )

CRICHTON. My lady, let me work for you. 

LADY MARY. Go. 

CRICHTON. You need me so sorely; I can't desert you; I won't. 

LADY MARY (in alarm, lest the others may yield). Then, father, there isbut one alternative, we must leave him. 

(LORD LOAM is looking yearningly at CRICHTON. )

TREHERNE. It seems a pity. 

CATHERINE (forlornly). You will work for us?

TREHERNE. Most willingly. But I must warn you all that, so far, Crichtonhas done nine-tenths of the scoring. 

LADY MARY. The question is, are we to leave this man?

LORD LOAM (wrapping himself in his dignity). Come, my dears. 

CRICHTON. My lord!

LORD LOAM. Treherne--Ernest--get our things. 

ERNEST. We don't have any, uncle. They all belong to Crichton. 

TREHERNE. Everything we have he brought from the wreck--he went back toit before it sank. He risked his life. 

CRICHTON. My lord, anything you would care to take is yours. 

LADY MARY (quickly). Nothing. 

ERNEST. Rot! If I could have your socks, Crichton--

LADY MARY. Come, father; we are ready. 

(Followed by the others, she and LORD LOAM pick their way up the rocks. In their indignation they scarcely notice that daylight is coming to asudden end. )

CRICHTON. My lord, I implore you--I am not desirous of being head. Doyou have a try at it, my lord. 

LORD LOAM (outraged). A try at it!

CRICHTON (eagerly). It may be that you will prove to be the best man. 

LORD LOAM. May be! My children, come. 

(They disappear proudly in single file. )

TREHERNE. Crichton, I'm sorry; but of course I must go with them. 

CRICHTON. Certainly, sir. 

(He calls to TWEENY, and she comes from behind the hut, where she hasbeen watching breathlessly. )

Will you be so kind, sir, as to take her to the others?

TREHERNE. Assuredly. 

TWEENY. But what do it all mean?

CRICHTON. Does, Tweeny, does. (He passes her up the rocks to TREHERNE. )We shall meet again soon, Tweeny. Good night, sir. 

TREHERNE. Good night. I dare say they are not far away. 

CRICHTON (thoughtfully). They went westward, sir, and the wind isblowing in that direction. That may mean, sir, that nature is alreadytaking the matter into her own hands. They are all hungry, sir, and thepot has come a-boil. (He takes off the lid. ) The smell will be bornewestward. That pot is full of nature, Mr. Treherne. Good night, sir. 

TREHERNE. Good night. 

(He mounts the rocks with TWEENY, and they are heard for a little timeafter their figures are swallowed up in the fast growing darkness. CRICHTON stands motionless, the lid in his hand, though he has forgottenit, and his reason for taking it off the pot. He is deeply stirred, butpresently is ashamed of his dejection, for it is as if he doubted hisprinciples. Bravely true to his faith that nature will decide now asever before, he proceeds manfully with his preparations for the night. He lights a ship's lantern, one of several treasures he has broughtashore, and is filling his pipe with crumbs of tobacco from variouspockets, when the stealthy movements of some animal in the grassstartles him. With the lantern in one hand and his cutlass in the other, he searches the ground around the hut. He returns, lights his pipe, andsits down by the fire, which casts weird moving shadows. There is a redgleam on his face; in the darkness he is a strong and perhaps rathersinister figure. In the great stillness that has fallen over the land, the wash of the surf seems to have increased in volume. The sound isindescribably mournful. Except where the fire is, desolation has fallenon the island like a pall. 

Once or twice, as nature dictates, CRICHTON leans forward to stir thepot, and the smell is borne westward. He then resumes his silent vigil. 

Shadows other than those cast by the fire begin to descend the rocks. They are the adventurers returning. One by one they steal nearer to thepot until they are squatted round it, with their hands out to theblaze. LADY MARY only is absent. Presently she comes within sight of theothers, then stands against a tree with her teeth clenched. One wonders, perhaps, what nature is to make of her. )

End of Act II. 

ACT III. THE HAPPY HOME

The scene is the hall of their island home two years later. This sturdylog-house is no mere extension of the hut we have seen in process oferection, but has been built a mile or less to the west of it, on higherground and near a stream. When the master chose this site, the othersthought that all he expected from the stream was a sufficiency ofdrinking water. They know better now every time they go down to the millor turn on the electric light. 

This hall is the living-room of the house, and walls and roof areof stout logs. Across the joists supporting the roof are laid manyhome-made implements, such as spades, saws, fishing-rods, and from hooksin the joists are suspended cured foods, of which hams are specially inevidence. Deep recesses half way up the walls contain various provenderin barrels and sacks. There are some skins, trophies of the chase, onthe floor, which is otherwise bare. The chairs and tables are in somecases hewn out of the solid wood, and in others the result of rough butefficient carpentering. Various pieces of wreckage from the yacht havebeen turned to novel uses: thus the steering-wheel now hangs from thecentre of the roof, with electric lights attached to it encased inbladders. A lifebuoy has become the back of a chair. Two barrels havebeen halved and turn coyly from each other as a settee. 

The farther end of the room is more strictly the kitchen, and is a greatrecess, which can be shut off from the hall by folding doors. There isa large open fire in it. The chimney is half of one of the boats ofthe yacht. On the walls of the kitchen proper are many plate-racks, containing shells; there are rows of these of one size and shape, which mark them off as dinner plates or bowls; others are as obviouslytureens. They are arranged primly as in a well-conducted kitchen;indeed, neatness and cleanliness are the note struck everywhere, yet theeffect of the whole is romantic and barbaric. 

The outer door into this hall is a little peculiar on an island. Itis covered with skins and is in four leaves, like the swing doors offashionable restaurants, which allow you to enter without allowing thehot air to escape. During the winter season our castaways have foundthe contrivance useful, but Crichton's brain was perhaps a littlelordly when he conceived it. Another door leads by a passage to thesleeping-rooms of the house, which are all on the ground-floor, and toCrichton's work-room, where he is at this moment, and whither we shouldlike to follow him, but in a play we may not, as it is out of sight. There is a large window space without a window, which, however, can beshuttered, and through this we have a view of cattle-sheds, fowl-pens, and a field of grain. It is a fine summer evening. 

Tweeny is sitting there, very busy plucking the feathers off a bird anddropping them on a sheet placed for that purpose on the floor. She istrilling to herself in the lightness of her heart. We may remember thatTweeny, alone among the women, had dressed wisely for an island whenthey fled the yacht, and her going-away gown still adheres to her, though in fragments. A score of pieces have been added here and thereas necessity compelled, and these have been patched and repatched inincongruous colours; but, when all is said and done, it can still bemaintained that Tweeny wears a skirt. She is deservedly proud of herskirt, and sometimes lends it on important occasions when approached inthe proper spirit. 

Some one outside has been whistling to Tweeny; the guarded whistlewhich, on a less savage island, is sometimes assumed to be an indicationto cook that the constable is willing, if the coast be clear. Tweeny, however, is engrossed, or perhaps she is not in the mood for a follower, so he climbs in at the window undaunted, to take her willy nilly. Heis a jolly-looking labouring man, who answers to the name of Daddy, and--But though that may be his island name, we recognise him at once. He is Lord Loam, settled down to the new conditions, and enjoying lifeheartily as handy-man about the happy home. He is comfortably attired inskins. He is still stout, but all the flabbiness has dropped from him;gone too is his pomposity; his eye is clear, brown his skin; he couldleap a gate. 

In his hands he carries an island-made concertina, and such is theexuberance of his spirits that, as he lights on the floor, he burstsinto music and song, something about his being a chickety chickety chickchick, and will Tweeny please to tell him whose chickety chick is she. Retribution follows sharp. We hear a whir, as if from insufficientlyoiled machinery, and over the passage door appears a placard showingthe one word 'Silence. ' His lordship stops, and steals to Tweeny on histiptoes. 

LORD LOAM. I thought the Gov. Was out. 

TWEENY. Well, you see he ain't. And if he were to catch you hereidling--

(LORD LOAM pales. He lays aside his musical instrument and hurriedlydons an apron. TWEENY gives him the bird to pluck, and busies herselflaying the table for dinner. )

LORD LOAM (softly). What is he doing now?

TWEENY. I think he's working out that plan for laying on hot and cold. 

LORD LOAM (proud of his master). And he'll manage it too. The man whocould build a blacksmith's forge without tools--

TWEENY (not less proud). He made the tools. 

LORD LOAM. Out of half a dozen rusty nails. The saw-mill, Tweeny; thespeaking-tube; the electric lighting; and look at the use he has madeof the bits of the yacht that were washed ashore. And all in two years. He's a master I'm proud to pluck for. 

(He chirps happily at his work, and she regards him curiously. )

TWEENY. Daddy, you're of little use, but you're a bright, cheerfulcreature to have about the house. (He beams at this commendation. ) Doyou ever think of old times now? We was a bit different. 

LORD LOAM (pausing). Circumstances alter cases. (He resumes his pluckingcontentedly. )

TWEENY. But, Daddy, if the chance was to come of getting back?

LORD LOAM. I have given up bothering about it. 

TWEENY. You bothered that day long ago when we saw a ship passingthe island. How we all ran like crazy folk into the water, Daddy, andscreamed and held out our arms. (They are both a little agitated. ) Butit sailed away, and we've never seen another. 

LORD LOAM. If we had had the electrical contrivance we have now we couldhave attracted that ship's notice. (Their eyes rest on a mysteriousapparatus that fills a corner of the hall. ) A touch on that lever, Tweeny, and in a few moments bonfires would be blazing all round theshore. 

TWEENY (backing from the lever as if it might spring at her). It's themost wonderful thing he has done. 

LORD LOAM (in a reverie). And then--England--home!

TWEENY (also seeing visions). London of a Saturday night!

LORD LOAM. My lords, in rising once more to address this historicchamber--

TWEENY. There was a little ham and beef shop off the Edgware Road--(Thevisions fade; they return to the practical. )

LORD LOAM. Tweeny, do you think I could have an egg to my tea? (Atthis moment a wiry, athletic figure in skins darkens the window. He iscarrying two pails, which are suspended from a pole on his shoulder, andhe is ERNEST. We should say that he is ERNEST completely changed if wewere of those who hold that people change. As he enters by the window hehas heard LORD LOAM's appeal, and is perhaps justifiably indignant. )

ERNEST. What is that about an egg? Why should you have an egg?

LORD LOAM (with hauteur). That is my affair, sir. (With a Parthian shotas he withdraws stiffly from the room. ) The Gov. Has never put my headin a bucket. 

ERNEST (coming to rest on one of his buckets, and speaking withexcusable pride. To TWEENY). Nor mine for nearly three months. It wasonly last week, Tweeny, that he said to me, 'Ernest, the water cure hasworked marvels in you, and I question whether I shall require to dipyou any more. ' (Complacently. ) Of course that sort of thing encourages afellow. 

TWEENY (who has now arranged the dinner table to her satisfaction). Iwill say, Erny, I never seen a young chap more improved. 

ERNEST (gratified). Thank you, Tweeny, that's very precious to me. 

(She retires to the fire to work the great bellows with her foot, andERNEST turns to TREHERNE, who has come in looking more like a cow-boythan a clergyman. He has a small box in his hand which he tries toconceal. ) What have you got there, John?

TREHERNE. Don't tell anybody. It is a little present for the Gov. ; a setof razors. One for each day in the week. 

ERNEST (opening the box and examining its contents. ) Shells! He'll likethat. He likes sets of things. 

TREHERNE (in a guarded voice). Have you noticed that?

ERNEST. Rather. 

TREHERNE. He's becoming a bit magnificent in his ideas. 

ERNEST (huskily). John, it sometimes gives me the creeps. 

TREHERNE (making sure that TWEENY is out of hearing). What do you thinkof that brilliant robe he got the girls to make for him. 

ERNEST (uncomfortably). I think he looks too regal in it. 

TREHERNE. Regal! I sometimes fancy that that's why he's so fondof wearing it. (Practically. ) Well, I must take these down to thegrindstone and put an edge on them. 

ERNEST (button-holing him). I say, John, I want a word with you. 

TREHERNE. Well?

ERNEST (become suddenly diffident). Dash it all, you know, you're aclergyman. 

TREHERNE. One of the best things the Gov. Has done is to insist thatnone of you forget it. 

ERNEST (taking his courage in his hands). Then--would you, John?

TREHERNE. What?

ERNEST (wistfully). Officiate at a marriage ceremony, John?

TREHERNE (slowly). Now, that's really odd. 

ERNEST. Odd? Seems to me it's natural. And whatever is natural, John, isright. 

TREHERNE. I mean that same question has been put to me today already. 

ERNEST (eagerly). By one of the women?

TREHERNE. Oh no; they all put it to me long ago. This was by the Gov. Himself. 

ERNEST. By Jove! (Admiringly. ) I say, John, what an observant beggar heis. 

TREHERNE. Ah! You fancy he was thinking of you?

ERNEST. I do not hesitate to affirm, John, that he has seen thelove-light in my eyes. You answered--

TREHERNE. I said Yes, I thought it would be my duty to officiate ifcalled upon. 

ERNEST. You're a brick. 

TREHERNE (still pondering). But I wonder whether he was thinking of you?

ERNEST. Make your mind easy about that. 

TREHERNE. Well, my best wishes. Agatha is a very fine girl. 

ERNEST. Agatha? What made you think it was Agatha?

TREHERNE. Man alive, you told me all about it soon after we werewrecked. 

ERNEST. Pooh! Agatha's all very well in her way, John, but I'm flying atbigger game. 

TREHERNE. Ernest, which is it?

ERNEST. Tweeny, of course. 

TREHERNE. Tweeny? (Reprovingly. ) Ernest, I hope her cooking has nothingto do with this. 

ERNEST (with dignity). Her cooking has very little to do with it. 

TREHERNE. But does she return your affection. 

ERNEST (simply). Yes, John, I believe I may say so. I am unworthy ofher, but I think I have touched her heart. 

TREHERNE (with a sigh). Some people seem to have all the luck. As youknow, Catherine won't look at me. 

ERNEST. I'm sorry, John. 

TREHERNE. It's my deserts; I'm a second eleven sort of chap. Well, myheartiest good wishes, Ernest. 

ERNEST. Thank you, John. How's the little black pig to-day?

TREHERNE (departing). He has begun to eat again. 

(After a moment's reflection ERNEST calls to TWEENY. )

ERNEST. Are you very busy, Tweeny?

TWEENY (coming to him good-naturedly). There's always work to do; but ifyou want me, Ernest--

ERNEST. There's something I should like to say to you if you could spareme a moment. 

TWEENY. Willingly. What is it?

ERNEST. What an ass I used to be, Tweeny. 

TWEENY (tolerantly). Oh, let bygones be bygones. 

ERNEST (sincerely, and at his very best). I'm no great shakes even now. But listen to this, Tweeny; I have known many women, but until I knewyou I never knew any woman. 

TWEENY (to whose uneducated ears this sounds dangerously like anepigram). Take care--the bucket. 

ERNEST (hurriedly). I didn't mean it in that way. (He goes chivalrouslyon his knees. ) Ah, Tweeny, I don't undervalue the bucket, but what Iwant to say now is that the sweet refinement of a dear girl has donemore for me than any bucket could do. 

TWEENY (with large eyes). Are you offering to walk out with me, Erny?

ERNEST (passionately). More than that. I want to build a little housefor you--in the sunny glade down by Porcupine Creek. I want to makechairs for you and tables; and knives and forks, and a sideboard foryou. 

TWEENY (who is fond of language). I like to hear you. (Eyeing him. )Would there be any one in the house except myself, Ernest?

ERNEST (humbly). Not often; but just occasionally there would be youradoring husband. 

TWEENY (decisively). It won't do, Ernest. 

ERNEST (pleading). It isn't as if I should be much there. 

TWEENY. I know, I know; but I don't love you, Ernest. I'm that sorry. 

ERNEST (putting his case cleverly). Twice a week I should be awayaltogether--at the dam. On the other days you would never see me frombreakfast time to supper. (With the self-abnegation of the true lover. )If you like I'll even go fishing on Sundays. 

TWEENY. It's no use, Erny. 

ERNEST (rising manfully). Thank you, Tweeny; it can't be helped. (Thenhe remembers. ) Tweeny, we shall be disappointing the Gov. 

TWEENY (with a sinking). What's that?

ERNEST. He wanted us to marry. 

TWEENY (blankly). You and me? the Gov. ! (Her head droops woefully. Fromwithout is heard the whistling of a happier spirit, and TWEENY drawsherself up fiercely. ) That's her; that's the thing what has stole hisheart from me. (A stalwart youth appears at the window, so handsome andtingling with vitality that, glad to depose CRICHTON, we cry thankfully, 'The Hero at last. ' But it is not the hero; it is the heroine. Thissplendid boy, clad in skins, is what nature has done for LADY MARY. Shecarries bow and arrows and a blow-pipe, and over her shoulder is afat buck, which she drops with a cry of triumph. Forgetting to enterdemurely, she leaps through the window. ) (Sourly. ) Drat you, Polly, whydon't you wipe your feet?

LADY MARY (good-naturedly). Come, Tweeny, be nice to me. It's a splendidbuck. (But TWEENY shakes her off, and retires to the kitchen fire. )

ERNEST. Where did you get it?

LADY MARY (gaily). I sighted a herd near Penguin's Creek, but hadto creep round Silver Lake to get to windward of them. However, theyspotted me and then the fun began. There was nothing for it but to tryand run them down, so I singled out a fat buck and away we went downthe shore of the lake, up the valley of rolling stones; he doubled intoBrawling River and took to the water, but I swam after him; the river isonly half a mile broad there, but it runs strong. He went spinning downthe rapids, down I went in pursuit; he clambered ashore, I clamberedashore; away we tore helter-skelter up the hill and down again. I losthim in the marshes, got on his track again near Bread Fruit Wood, andbrought him down with an arrow in Firefly Grove. 

TWEENY (staring at her). Aren't you tired?

LADY MARY. Tired! It was gorgeous. (She runs up a ladder and depositsher weapons on the joists. She is whistling again. )

TWEENY (snapping). I can't abide a woman whistling. 

LADY MARY (indifferently). I like it. 

TWEENY (stamping her foot). Drop it, Polly, I tell you. 

LADY MARY (stung). I won't. I'm as good as you are. (They are facingeach other defiantly. )

ERNEST (shocked). Is this necessary? Think how it would pain him. (LADYMARY's eyes take a new expression. We see them soft for the first time. )

LADY MARY (contritely). Tweeny, I beg your pardon. If my whistlingannoys you, I shall try to cure myself of it. (Instead of calmingTWEENY, this floods her face in tears. ) Why, how can that hurt you, Tweeny dear?

TWEENY. Because I can't make you lose your temper. 

LADY MARY (divinely). Indeed, I often do. Would that I were nicer toeverybody. 

TWEENY. There you are again. (Wistfully. ) What makes you want to be sonice, Polly?

LADY MARY (with fervour). Only thankfulness, Tweeny. (She exults. ) It issuch fun to be alive. (So also seem to think CATHERINE and AGATHA, whobounce in with fishing-rods and creel. They, too, are in manly attire. )

CATHERINE. We've got some ripping fish for the Gov. 's dinner. Are we intime? We ran all the way. 

TWEENY (tartly). You'll please to cook them yourself, Kitty, and looksharp about it. (She retires to her hearth, where AGATHA follows her. )

AGATHA (yearning). Has the Gov. Decided who is to wait upon him to-day?

CATHERINE (who is cleaning her fish). It's my turn. 

AGATHA (hotly). I don't see that. 

TWEENY (with bitterness). It's to be neither of you, Aggy; he wantsPolly again. 

(LADY MARY is unable to resist a joyous whistle. )

AGATHA (jealously). Polly, you toad. (But they cannot make LADY MARYangry. )

TWEENY (storming). How dare you look so happy?

LADY MARY (willing to embrace her). I wish, Tweeny, there was anything Icould do to make you happy also. 

TWEENY. Me! Oh, I'm happy. (She remembers ERNEST, whom it is easy toforget on an island. ) I've just had a proposal, I tell you. 

(LADY MARY is shaken at last, and her sisters with her. )

AGATHA. A proposal?

CATHERINE (going white). Not--not--(She dare not say his name. )

ERNEST (with singular modesty). You needn't be alarmed; it's only me. 

LADY MARY (relieved). Oh, you!

AGATHA (happy again). Ernest, you dear, I got such a shock. 

CATHERINE. It was only Ernest. (Showing him her fish in thankfulness. )They are beautifully fresh; come and help me to cook them. 

ERNEST (with simple dignity). Do you mind if I don't cook fish to-night?(She does not mind in the least. They have all forgotten him. A lark issinging in three hearts. ) I think you might all be a little sorry fora chap. (But they are not even sorry, and he addresses AGATHA in thesewinged words:) I'm particularly disappointed in you, Aggy; seeing that Iwas half engaged to you, I think you might have had the good feeling tobe a little more hurt. 

AGATHA. Oh, bother. 

ERNEST (summing up the situation in so far as it affects himself). Ishall now go and lie down for a bit. (He retires coldly but unregretted. LADY MARY approaches TWEENY with her most insinuating smile. )

LADY MARY. Tweeny, as the Gov. Has chosen me to wait on him, pleasemay I have the loan of it again? (The reference made with such charmingdelicacy is evidently to TWEENY's skirt. )

TWEENY (doggedly). No, you mayn't. 

AGATHA (supporting TWEENY). Don't you give it to her. 

LADY MARY (still trying sweet persuasion). You know quite well that heprefers to be waited on in a skirt. 

TWEENY. I don't care. Get one for yourself. 

LADY MARY. It is the only one on the island. 

TWEENY. And it's mine. 

LADY MARY (an aristocrat after all). Tweeny, give me that skirtdirectly. 

CATHERINE. Don't. 

TWEENY. I won't. 

LADY MARY (clearing for action). I shall make you. 

TWEENY. I should like to see you try. 

(An unseemly fracas appears to be inevitable, but something happens. Thewhir is again heard, and the notice is displayed 'Dogs delight to barkand bite. ' Its effect is instantaneous and cheering. The ladies look ateach other guiltily and immediately proceed on tiptoe to their duties. These are all concerned with the master's dinner. CATHERINE attends tohis fish. AGATHA fills a quaint toast-rack and brings the menu, which iswritten on a shell. LADY MARY twists a wreath of green leaves around herhead, and places a flower beside the master's plate. TWEENY signs thatall is ready, and she and the younger sisters retire into the kitchen, drawing the screen that separates it from the rest of the room. LADYMARY beats a tom-tom, which is the dinner bell. She then gently works apunkah, which we have not hitherto observed, and stands at attention. No doubt she is in hopes that the Gov. Will enter into conversation withher, but she is too good a parlour-maid to let her hopes appear in herface. We may watch her manner with complete approval. There is not oneof us who would not give her £26 a year. 

The master comes in quietly, a book in his hand, still the only bookon the island, for he has not thought it worth while to build aprinting-press. His dress is not noticeably different from that ofthe others, the skins are similar, but perhaps these are a trifle morecarefully cut or he carries them better. One sees somehow that he haschanged for his evening meal. There is an odd suggestion of a dinnerjacket about his doeskin coat. It is, perhaps, too grave a face fora man of thirty-two, as if he were over much immersed in affairs, yetthere is a sunny smile left to lighten it at times and bring back itsyouth; perhaps too intellectual a face to pass as strictly handsome, not sufficiently suggestive of oats. His tall figure is very straight, slight rather than thick-set, but nobly muscular. His big hands, firmand hard with labour though they be, are finely shaped--note thefingers so much more tapered, the nails better tended than those of hisdomestics; they are one of many indications that he is of a superiorbreed. Such signs, as has often been pointed out, are infallible. Aromantic figure, too. One can easily see why the women-folks of thisstrong man's house both adore and fear him. 

He does not seem to notice who is waiting on him to-night, but inclineshis head slightly to whoever it is, as she takes her place at the backof his chair. LADY MARY respectfully places the menu-shell before him, and he glances at it. )

CRICHTON. Clear, please. 

(LADY MARY knocks on the screen, and a serving hutch in it opens, through which TWEENY offers two soup plates. LADY MARY selects theclear, and the aperture is closed. She works the punkah while the masterpartakes of the soup. )

CRICHTON (who always gives praise where it is due). An excellent soup, Polly, but still a trifle too rich. 

LADY MARY. Thank you. 

(The next course is the fish, and while it is being passed through thehutch we have a glimpse of three jealous women. 

LADY MARY'S movements are so deft and noiseless that any observantspectator can see that she was born to wait at table. )

CRICHTON (unbending as he eats). Polly, you are a very smart girl. 

LADY MARY (bridling, but naturally gratified). La!

CRICHTON (smiling). And I'm not the first you've heard it from, I'llswear. 

LADY MARY (wriggling). Oh God!

CRICHTON. Got any followers on the island, Polly?

LADY MARY (tossing her head). Certainly not. 

CRICHTON. I thought that perhaps John or Ernest--

LADY MARY (tilting her nose). I don't say that it's for want of asking. 

CRICHTON (emphatically). I'm sure it isn't. (Perhaps he thinks he hasgone too far. ) You may clear. 

(Flushed with pleasure, she puts before him a bird and vegetables, seesthat his beaker is fitted with wine, and returns to the punkah. Shewould love to continue their conversation, but it is for him to decide. For a time he seems to have forgotten her. )

CRICHTON. Did you lose any arrows to-day?

LADY MARY. Only one in Firefly Grove. 

CRICHTON. You were as far as that? How did you get across the BlackGorge?

LADY MARY. I went across on the rope. 

CRICHTON. Hand over hand?

LADY MARY (swelling at the implied praise). I wasn't in the least dizzy. 

CRICHTON (moved). You brave girl! (He sits back in his chair a littleagitated. ) But never do that again. 

LADY MARY (pouting). It is such fun, Gov. 

CRICHTON (decisively). I forbid it. 

LADY MARY (the little rebel). I shall. 

CRICHTON (surprised). Polly! (He signs to her sharply to step forward, but for a moment she holds back petulantly, and even when she does comeit is less obediently than like a naughty, sulky child. Nevertheless, with the forbearance that is characteristic of the man, he addresses herwith grave gentleness rather than severely. ) You must do as I tell you, you know. 

LADY MARY (strangely passionate). I shan't. 

CRICHTON (smiling at her fury). We shall see. Frown at me, Polly; there, you do it at once. Clench your little fists, stamp your feet, bite yourribbons--(A student of women, or at least of this woman, he knows thatshe is about to do those things, and thus she seems to do them to order. LADY MARY screws up her face like a baby and cries. He is immediatelykind. ) You child of nature; was it cruel of me to wish to save you fromharm?

LADY MARY (drying her eyes). I'm an ungracious wretch. Oh God, I don'ttry half hard enough to please you. I'm even wearing--(she looks downsadly)--when I know you prefer it. 

CRICHTON (thoughtfully). I admit I do prefer it. Perhaps I am a littleold-fashioned in these matters. (Her tears again threaten. ) Ah, don't, Polly; that's nothing. 

LADY MARY. If I could only please you, Gov. 

CRICHTON (slowly). You do please me, child, very much--(he halfrises)--very much indeed. (If he meant to say more he checks himself. He looks at his plate. ) No more, thank you. (The simple island meal isended, save for the walnuts and the wine, and CRICHTON is too busy a manto linger long over them. But he is a stickler for etiquette, end thetable is cleared charmingly, though with dispatch, before they areplaced before him. LADY MARY is an artist with the crumb-brush, andthere are few arts more delightful to watch. Dusk has come sharply, andshe turns on the electric light. It awakens CRICHTON from a reverie inwhich he has been regarding her. )

CRICHTON. Polly, there is only one thing about you that I don't quitelike. (She looks up, making a moue, if that can be said of one who sowell knows her place. He explains. ) That action of the hands. 

LADY MARY. What do I do?

CRICHTON. So--like one washing them. I have noticed that the others tendto do it also. It seems odd. 

LADY MARY (archly). Oh Gov. , have you forgotten?

CRICHTON. What?

LADY MARY. That once upon a time a certain other person did that. 

CRICHTON (groping). You mean myself? (She nods, and he shudders. )Horrible!

LADY MARY (afraid she has hurt him). You haven't for a very long time. Perhaps it is natural to servants. 

CRICHTON. That must be it. (He rises. ) Polly! (She looks up expectantly, but he only sighs and turns away. )

LADY MARY (gently). You sighed, Gov. 

CRICHTON. Did I? I was thinking. (He paces the room and then turnsto her agitatedly, yet with control over his agitation. There is somemournfulness in his voice. ) I have always tried to do the right thing onthis island. Above all, Polly, I want to do the right thing by you. 

LADY MARY (with shining eyes). How we all trust you. That is yourreward, Gov. 

CRICHTON (who is having a fight with himself). And now I want a greaterreward. Is it fair to you? Am I playing the game? Bill Crichton wouldlike always to play the game. If we were in England--(He pauses so longthat she breaks in softly. )

LADY MARY. We know now that we shall never see England again. 

CRICHTON. I am thinking of two people whom neither of us has seen for along time--Lady Mary Lasenby, and one Crichton, a butler. (He says thelast word bravely, a word he once loved, though it is the most horribleof all words to him now. )

LADY MARY. That cold, haughty, insolent girl. Gov. , look around you andforget them both. 

CRICHTON. I had nigh forgotten them. He has had a chance, Polly--thatbutler--in these two years of becoming a man, and he has tried to takeit. There have been many failures, but there has been some success, andwith it I have let the past drop off me, and turned my back on it. Thatbutler seems a far-away figure to me now, and not myself. I hail him, but we scarce know each other. If I am to bring him back it can onlybe done by force, for in my soul he is now abhorrent to me. But if Ithought it best for you I'd haul him back; I swear as an honest man, Iwould bring him back with all his obsequious ways and deferential airs, and let you see the man you call your Gov. Melt for ever into him whowas your servant. 

LADY MARY (shivering). You hurt me. You say these things, but you saythem like a king. To me it is the past that was not real. 

CRICHTON (too grandly). A king! I sometimes feel--(For a moment theyellow light gleams in his green eyes. We remember suddenly whatTREHERNE and ERNEST said about his regal look. He checks himself. ) Isay it harshly, it is so hard to say, and all the time there is anothervoice within me crying--(He stops. )

LADY MARY (trembling but not afraid). If it is the voice of nature--

CRICHTON (strongly). I know it to be the voice of nature. 

LADY MARY (in a whisper). Then, if you want to say it very much, Gov. , please say it to Polly Lasenby. 

CRICHTON (again in the grip of an idea). A king! Polly, some people holdthat the soul but leaves one human tenement for another, and so lives onthrough all the ages. I have occasionally thought of late that, insome past existence, I may have been a king. It has all come to me sonaturally, not as if I had had to work it out, but-as-if-I-remembered. 'Or ever the knightly years were gone, With the old world to the grave, I was a king in Babylon, And you were a Christian slave. ' It may havebeen; you hear me, it may have been. 

LADY MARY (who is as one fascinated). It may have been. 

CRICHTON. I am lord over all. They are but hewers of wood and drawersof water for me. These shores are mine. Why should I hesitate; I have nolonger any doubt. I do believe I am doing the right thing. Dear Polly, I have grown to love you; are you afraid to mate with me? (She rocks herarms; no words will come from her. ) 'I was a king in Babylon, And youwere a Christian slave. '

LADY MARY (bewitched). You are the most wonderful man I have ever known, and I am not afraid. (He takes her to him reverently. Presently he isseated, and she is at his feet looking up adoringly in his face. As thetension relaxes she speaks with a smile. ) I want you to tell me--everywoman likes to know--when was the first time you thought me nicer thanthe others?

CRICHTON (who, like all big men, is simple). I think a year ago. We werechasing goats on the Big Slopes, and you out-distanced us all; you werethe first of our party to run a goat down; I was proud of you that day. 

LADY MARY (blushing with pleasure). Oh Gov. , I only did it to pleaseyou. Everything I have done has been out of the desire to please you. (Suddenly anxious. ) If I thought that in taking a wife from among us youwere imperilling your dignity--

CRICHTON (perhaps a little masterful). Have no fear of that, dear. Ihave thought it all out. The wife, Polly, always takes the same positionas the husband. 

LADY MARY. But I am so unworthy. It was sufficient to me that I shouldbe allowed to wait on you at that table. 

CRICHTON. You shall wait on me no longer. At whatever table I sit, Polly, you shall soon sit there also. (Boyishly. ) Come, let us try whatit will be like. 

LADY MARY. As your servant at your feet. 

CRICHTON. No, as my consort by my side. 

(They are sitting thus when the hatch is again opened and coffeeoffered. But LADY MARY is no longer there to receive it. Her sisterspeep through in consternation. In vain they rattle the cup and saucer. AGATHA brings the coffee to CRICHTON. )

CRICHTON (forgetting for the moment that it is not a month hence). Helpyour mistress first, girl. (Three women are bereft of speech, but hedoes not notice it. He addresses CATHERINE vaguely. ) Are you a goodgirl, Kitty?

CATHERINE (when she finds her tongue). I try to be, Gov. 

CRICHTON (still more vaguely). That's right. (He takes command ofhimself again, and signs to them to sit down. ERNEST comes in cheerily, but finding CRICHTON here is suddenly weak. He subsides on a chair, wondering what has happened. )

CRICHTON (surveying him). Ernest. (ERNEST rises. ) You are becoming alittle slovenly in your dress, Ernest; I don't like it. 

ERNEST (respectfully). Thank you. (ERNEST sits again. DADDY and TREHERNEarrive. )

CRICHTON. Daddy, I want you. 

LORD LOAM (with a sinking). Is it because I forgot to clean out the dam?

CRICHTON (encouragingly). No, no. (He pours some wine into a goblet. ) Aglass of wine with you, Daddy. 

LORD LOAM (hastily). Your health, Gov. (He is about to drink, but themaster checks him. )

CRICHTON. And hers. Daddy, this lady has done me the honour to promiseto be my wife. 

LORD LOAM (astounded). Polly!

CRICHTON (a little perturbed). I ought first to have asked your consent. I deeply regret--but nature; may I hope I have your approval?

LORD LOAM. May you, Gov. ? (Delighted. ) Rather! Polly! (He puts his proudarms round her. )

TREHERNE. We all congratulate you, Gov. , most heartily. 

ERNEST. Long life to you both, sir. 

(There is much shaking of hands, all of which is sincere. )

TREHERNE. When will it be, Gov. ?

CRICHTON (after turning to LADY MARY, who whispers to him). As soon asthe bridal skirt can be prepared. (His manner has been most indulgent, and without the slightest suggestion of patronage. But he knows itis best for all that he should keep his place, and that his presencehampers them. ) My friends, I thank you for your good wishes, I thank youall. And now, perhaps you would like me to leave you to yourselves. Bejoyous. Let there be song and dance to-night. Polly, I shall take mycoffee in the parlour--you understand. 

(He retires with pleasant dignity. Immediately there is a rush of twogirls at LADY MARY. )

LADY MARY. Oh, oh! Father, they are pinching me. 

LORD LOAM (taking her under his protection). Agatha, Catherine, neverpresume to pinch your sister again. On the other hand, she may pinch youhenceforth as much as ever she chooses. 

(In the meantime TWEENY is weeping softly, and the two are not aboveusing her as a weapon. )

CATHERINE. Poor Tweeny, it's a shame. 

AGATHA. After he had almost promised you. 

TWEENY (loyally turning on them). No, he never did. He was alwayshonourable as could be. 'Twas me as was too vulgar. Don't you dare say aword agin that man. 

ERNEST (to LORD LOAM). You'll get a lot of tit-bits out of this, Daddy. 

LORD LOAM. That's what I was thinking. 

ERNEST (plunged in thought). I dare say I shall have to clean out thedam now. 

LORD LOAM (heartlessly). I dare say. (His gay old heart makes him againproclaim that he is a chickety chick. He seizes the concertina. )

TREHERNE (eagerly). That's the proper spirit. (He puts his arm roundCATHERINE, and in another moment they are all dancing to Daddy's music. Never were people happier on an island. A moment's pause is presentlycreated by the return of CRICHTON, wearing the wonderful robe of whichwe have already had dark mention. Never has he looked more regal, neverperhaps felt so regal. We need not grudge him the one foible of hisrule, for it is all coming to an end. )

CRICHTON (graciously, seeing them hesitate). No, no; I am delighted tosee you all so happy. Go on. 

TREHERNE. We don't like to before you, Gov. 

CRICHTON (his last order). It is my wish. 

(The merrymaking is resumed, and soon CRICHTON himself joins in thedance. It is when the fun is at its fastest and most furious that allstop abruptly as if turned to stone. They have heard the boom of a gun. Presently they are alive again. ERNEST leaps to the window. )

TREHERNE (huskily). It was a ship's gun. (They turn to CRICHTON forconfirmation; even in that hour they turn to CRICHTON. ) Gov. ?

CRICHTON. Yes. 

(In another moment LADY MARY and LORD LOAM are alone. )

LADY MARY (seeing that her father is unconcerned). Father, you heard. 

LORD LOAM (placidly). Yes, my child. 

LADY MARY (alarmed by his unnatural calmness). But it was a gun, father. 

LORD LOAM (looking an old man now, and shuddering a little). Yes--agun--I have often heard it. It's only a dream, you know; why don't we goon dancing?

(She takes his hands, which have gone cold. )

LADY MARY. Father. Don't you see, they have all rushed down to thebeach? Come. 

LORD LOAM. Rushed down to the beach; yes, always that--I often dream it. 

LADY MARY. Come, father, come. 

LORD LOAM. Only a dream, my poor girl. 

(CRICHTON returns. He is pale but firm. )

CRICHTON. We can see lights within a mile of the shore--a great ship. 

LORD LOAM. A ship--always a ship. 

LADY MARY. Father, this is no dream. 

LORD LOAM (looking timidly at CRICHTON). It's a dream, isn't it? There'sno ship?

CRICHTON (soothing him with a touch). You are awake, Daddy, and there isa ship. 

LORD LOAM (clutching him). You are not deceiving me?

CRICHTON. It is the truth. 

LORD LOAM (reeling). True?--a ship--at last!

(He goes after the others pitifully. )

CRICHTON (quietly). There is a small boat between it and the island;they must have sent it ashore for water. 

LADY MART. Coming in?

CRICHTON. No. That gun must have been a signal to recall it. It is goingback. They can't hear our cries. 

LADY MARY (pressing her temples). Going away. So near--so near. (Almostto herself. ) I think I'm glad. 

CRICHTON (cheerily). Have no fear. I shall bring them back. 

(He goes towards the table on which is the electrical apparatus. )

LADY MARY (standing on guard as it were between him and the table). Whatare you going to do?

CRICHTON. To fire the beacons. 

LADY MARY. Stop! (She faces him. ) Don't you see what it means?

CRICHTON (firmly). It means that our life on the island has come to anatural end. 

LADY MARY (husky). Gov. , let the ship go--

CRICHTON. The old man--you saw what it means to him. 

LADY MARY. But I am afraid. 

CRICHTON (adoringly). Dear Polly. 

LADY MARY. Gov. , let the ship go. 

CRICHTON (she clings to him, but though it is his death sentence heloosens her hold). Bill Crichton has got to play the game. (He pulls thelevers. Soon through the window one of the beacons is seen flaringred. There is a long pause. Shouting is heard. ERNEST is the first toarrive. )

ERNEST. Polly, Gov. , the boat has turned back. They are English sailors;they have landed! We are rescued, I tell you, rescued!

LADY MARY (wanly). Is it anything to make so great a to-do about?

ERNEST (staring). Eh?

LADY MARY. Have we not been happy here?

ERNEST. Happy? Lord, yes. 

LADY MARY (catching hold of his sleeve). Ernest, we must never forgetall that the Gov. Has done for us. 

ERNEST (stoutly). Forget it? The man who could forget it would be aselfish wretch and a--But I say, this makes a difference!

LADY MARY (quickly). No, it doesn't. 

ERNEST (his mind tottering). A mighty difference!

(The others come running in, some weeping with joy, others boisterous. We see blue-jackets gazing through the window at the curious scene. LORD LOAM comes accompanied by a naval officer, whom he is continuallyshaking by the hand. )

LORD LOAM. And here, sir, is our little home. Let me thank you in thename of us all, again and again and again. 

OFFICER. Very proud, my lord. It is indeed an honour to have been ableto assist so distinguished a gentleman as Lord Loam. 

LORD LOAM. A glorious, glorious day. I shall show you our other room. Come, my pets. Come, Crichton. 

(He has not meant to be cruel. He does not know he has said it. It isthe old life that has come back to him. They all go. All leave CRICHTONexcept LADY MARY. )

LADY MARY (stretching out her arms to him). Dear Gov. , I will never giveyou up. 

(There is a salt smile on his face as he shakes his head to her. Helets the cloak slip to the ground. She will not take this for an answer;again her arms go out to him. Then comes the great renunciation. Byan effort of will he ceases to be an erect figure; he has the humblebearing of a servant. His hands come together as if he were washingthem. )

CRICHTON (it is the speech of his life). My lady. 

(She goes away. There is none to salute him now, unless we do it. )

End of Act III. 

ACT IV. THE OTHER ISLAND

Some months have elapsed, and we have again the honour of waiting uponLord Loam in his London home. It is the room of the first act, butwith a new scheme of decoration, for on the walls are exhibited manyinteresting trophies from the island, such as skins, stuffed birds, and weapons of the chase, labelled 'Shot by Lord Loam, ' 'Hon. ErnestWoolley's Blowpipe' etc. There are also two large glass cases containingother odds and ends, including, curiously enough, the bucket in whichErnest was first dipped, but there is no label calling attention to theincident. It is not yet time to dress for dinner, and his lordship is ona couch, hastily yet furtively cutting the pages of a new book. With himare his two younger daughters and his nephew, and they also are engagedin literary pursuits; that is to say, the ladies are eagerly butfurtively reading the evening papers, of which Ernest is sittingcomplacently but furtively on an endless number, and doling them out ascalled for. Note the frequent use of the word 'furtive. ' It impliesthat they do not wish to be discovered by their butler, say, at theirotherwise delightful task. 

AGATHA (reading aloud, with emphasis on the wrong words'). 'Inconclusion, we most heartily congratulate the Hon. Ernest Woolley. This book of his, regarding the adventures of himself and his bravecompanions on a desert isle, stirs the heart like a trumpet. '

(Evidently the book referred to is the one in LORD LOAM'S hands. )

ERNEST (handing her a pink paper). Here is another. 

CATHERINE (reading). 'From the first to the last of Mr. Woolley'sengrossing pages it is evident that he was an ideal man to be wreckedwith, and a true hero. ' (Large-eyed. ) Ernest!

ERNEST (calmly). That's how it strikes them, you know. Here's anotherone. 

AGATHA (reading). 'There are many kindly references to the two servantswho were wrecked with the family, and Mr. Woolley pays the butler aglowing tribute in a footnote. '

(Some one coughs uncomfortably. )

LORD LOAM (who has been searching the index for the letter L). Excellent, excellent. At the same time I must say, Ernest, that thewhole book is about yourself. 

ERNEST (genially). As the author--

LORD LOAM. Certainly, certainly. Still, you know, as a peer of therealm--(with dignity)--I think, Ernest, you might have given me one ofyour adventures. 

ERNEST. I say it was you who taught us how to obtain a fire by rubbingtwo pieces of stick together. 

LORD LOAM (beaming). Do you, do you? I call that very handsome. Whatpage?

(Here the door opens, and the well-bred CRICHTON enters with the eveningpapers as subscribed for by the house. Those we have already seen haveperhaps been introduced by ERNEST up his waistcoat. Every one except theintruder is immediately self-conscious, and when he withdraws there is ageneral sigh of relief. They pounce on the new papers. ERNEST evidentlygets a shock from one, which he casts contemptuously on the floor. )

AGATHA (more fortunate). Father, see page 81. 'It was a tiger-cat, ' saysMr. Woolley, 'of the largest size. Death stared Lord Loam in the face, but he never flinched. '

LORD LOAM (searching his book eagerly). Page 81. 

AGATHA. 'With presence of mind only equalled by his courage, he fixed anarrow in his bow. '

LORD LOAM. Thank you, Ernest; thank you, my boy. 

AGATHA. 'Unfortunately he missed. '

LORD LOAM. Eh?

AGATHA. 'But by great good luck I heard his cries'--

LORD LOAM. My cries?

AGATHA. --'and rushing forward with drawn knife, I stabbed the monster tothe heart. '

(LORD LOAM shuts his book with a pettish slam. There might be a scenehere were it not that CRICHTON reappears and goes to one of the glasscases. All are at once on the alert and his lordship is particularlysly. )

LORD LOAM. Anything in the papers, Catherine?

CATHERINE. No, father, nothing--nothing at all. 

ERNEST (it pops out as of yore). The papers! The papers are guides thattell us what we ought to do, and then we don't do it. 

(CRICHTON having opened the glass case has taken out the bucket, andERNEST, looking round for applause, sees him carrying it off and isundone. For a moment of time he forgets that he is no longer on theisland, and with a sigh he is about to follow CRICHTON and the bucket toa retired spot. The door closes, and ERNEST comes to himself. )

LORD LOAM (uncomfortably). I told him to take it away. 

ERNEST. I thought--(he wipes his brow)--I shall go and dress. (He goes. )

CATHERINE. Father, it's awful having Crichton here. It's like living ontiptoe. 

LORD LOAM (gloomily). While he is here we are sitting on a volcano. 

AGATHA. How mean of you! I am sure he has only stayed on with us to--tohelp us through. It would have looked so suspicious if he had gone atonce. 

CATHERINE (revelling in the worst) But suppose Lady Brocklehurst wereto get at him and pump him. She's the most terrifying, suspicious oldcreature in England; and Crichton simply can't tell a lie. 

LORD LOAM. My dear, that is the volcano to which I was referring. (Hehas evidently something to communicate. ) It's all Mary's fault. She saidto me yesterday that she would break her engagement with Brocklehurstunless I told him about--you know what. 

(All conjure up the vision of CRICHTON. )

AGATHA. Is she mad?

LORD LOAM. She calls it common honesty. 

CATHERINE. Father, have you told him?

LORD LOAM (heavily). She thinks I have, but I couldn't. She's sure tofind out to-night. 

(Unconsciously he leans on the island concertina, which he has perhapsbeen lately showing to an interviewer as something he made for TWEENY. It squeaks, and they all jump. )

CATHERINE. It's like a bird of ill-omen. 

LORD LOAM (vindictively). I must have it taken away; it has done thattwice. 

(LADY MARY comes in. She is in evening dress. Undoubtedly she meantto sail in, but she forgets, and despite her garments it is a manlyentrance. She is properly ashamed of herself. She tries again, and hasan encouraging success. She indicates to her sisters that she wishes tobe alone with papa. )

AGATHA. All right, but we know what it's about. Come along, Kit. 

(They go. LADY MARY thoughtlessly sits like a boy, and again correctsherself. She addresses her father, but he is in a brown study, and sheseeks to draw his attention by whistling. This troubles them both. )

LADY MARY. How horrid of me!

LORD LOAM (depressed). If you would try to remember--

LADY MARY (sighing). I do; but there are so many things to remember. 

LORD LOAM (sympathetically). There are--(in a whisper). Do you know, Mary, I constantly find myself secreting hairpins. 

LADY MARY. I find it so difficult to go up steps one at a time. 

LORD LOAM. I was dining with half a dozen members of our party lastThursday, Mary, and they were so eloquent that I couldn't help wonderingall the time how many of their heads he would have put in the bucket. 

LADY MARY. I use so many of his phrases. And my appetite is soscandalous. Father, I usually have a chop before we sit down to dinner. 

LORD LOAM. As for my clothes--(wriggling). My dear, you can't think howirksome collars are to me nowadays. 

LADY MARY. They can't be half such an annoyance, father, as--(She looksdolefully at her skirt. )

LORD LOAM (hurriedly). Quite so--quite so. You have dressed earlyto-night, Mary. 

LADY MARY. That reminds me; I had a note from Brocklehurst saying thathe would come a few minutes before his mother as--as he wanted to havea talk with me. He didn't say what about, but of course we know. (Hislordship fidgets. ) (With feeling. ) It was good of you to tell him, father. Oh, it is horrible to me--(covering her face). It seemed sonatural at the time. 

LORD LOAM (petulantly). Never again make use of that word in this house, Mary. 

LADY MARY (with an effort). Father, Brocklehurst has been so loyal to mefor these two years that I should despise myself were I to keep my--myextraordinary lapse from him. Had Brocklehurst been a little less good, then you need not have told him my strange little secret. 

LORD LOAM (weakly). Polly--I mean Mary--it was all Crichton's fault, he--

LADY MARY (with decision). No, father, no; not a word against himthough. I haven't the pluck to go on with it; I can't even understandhow it ever was. Father, do you not still hear the surf? Do you see thecurve of the beach?

LORD LOAM. I have begun to forget--(in a low voice). But they were happydays; there was something magical about them. 

LADY MARY. It was glamour. Father, I have lived Arabian nights. Ihave sat out a dance with the evening star. But it was all in a pastexistence, in the days of Babylon, and I am myself again. But he hasbeen chivalrous always. If the slothful, indolent creature I used to behas improved in any way, I owe it all to him. I am slipping back in manyways, but I am determined not to slip back altogether--in memory of himand his island. That is why I insisted on your telling Brocklehurst. Hecan break our engagement if he chooses. (Proudly. ) Mary Lasenby is goingto play the game. 

LORD LOAM. But my dear--

(LORD BROCKLEHURST is announced. )

LADY MARY (meaningly). Father, dear, oughtn't you to be dressing?

LORD LOAM (very unhappy). The fact is--before I go--I want to say--

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Loam, if you don't mind, I wish very specially tohave a word with Mary before dinner. 

LORD LOAM. But--

LADY MARY. Yes, father. (She induces him to go, and thus courageouslyfaces LORD BROCKLEHURST to hear her fate. ) I am ready, George. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (who is so agitated that she ought to see he isthinking not of her but of himself). It is a painful matter--I wish Icould have spared you this, Mary. 

LADY MARY. Please go on. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. In common fairness, of course, this should beremembered, that two years had elapsed. You and I had no reason tobelieve that we should ever meet again. 

(This is more considerate than she had expected. )

LADY MARY (softening). I was so lost to the world, George. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (with a groan). At the same time, the thing is utterlyand absolutely inexcusable--

LADY MARY (recovering her hauteur). Oh!

LORD BROCKLEHURST. And so I have already said to mother. 

LADY MARY (disdaining him). You have told her?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Certainly, Mary, certainly; I tell mother everything. 

LADY MARY (curling her lip). And what did she say?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. To tell the truth, mother rather pooh-poohed thewhole affair. 

LADY MARY (incredulous). Lady Brocklehurst pooh-poohed the whole affair!

LORD BROCKLEHURST. She said, 'Mary and I will have a good laugh overthis. '

LADY MARY (outraged). George, your mother is a hateful, depraved oldwoman. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mary!

LADY MARY (turning away). Laugh indeed, when it will always be such apain to me. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (with strange humility). If only you would let me bearall the pain, Mary. 

LADY MARY (who is taken aback). George, I think you are the noblestman--

(She is touched, and gives him both her hands. Unfortunately hesimpers. )

LORD BROCKLEHURST. She was a pretty little thing. (She stares, but hemarches to his doom. ) Ah, not beautiful like you. I assure you it wasthe merest flirtation; there were a few letters, but we have got themback. It was all owing to the boat being so late at Calais. You see shehad such large, helpless eyes. 

LADY MARY (fixing him). George, when you lunched with father to-day atthe club--

LORD BROCKLEHURST. I didn't. He wired me that he couldn't come. 

LADY MARY (with a tremor). But he wrote you?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. No. 

LADY MARY (a bird singing in her breast). You haven't seen him since?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. No. 

(She is saved. Is he to be let off also? Not at all. She bears down onhim like a ship of war. )

LADY MARY. George, who and what is this woman?

LORD BROCKLEHURST (cowering). She was--she is--the shame of it--alady's-maid. 

LADY MARY (properly horrified). A what?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. A lady's-maid. A mere servant, Mary. (LADY MARYwhirls round so that he shall not see her face. ) I first met her at thishouse when you were entertaining the servants; so you see it was largelyyour father's fault. 

LADY MARY (looking him up and down). A lady's-maid?

LORD BROCKLEHURST (degraded). Her name was Fisher. 

LADY MARY. My maid!

LORD BROCKLEHURST (with open hands). Can you forgive me, Mary?

LADY MARY. Oh George, George!

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mother urged me not to tell you anything about it;but--

LADY MARY (from her heart). I am so glad you told me. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. You see there was nothing wrong in it. 

LADY MARY (thinking perhaps of another incident). No, indeed. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (inclined to simper again). And she behaved awfullywell. She quite saw that it was because the boat was late. I suppose theglamour to a girl in service of a man in high position--

LADY MARY. Glamour!--yes, yes, that was it. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mother says that a girl in such circumstances is tobe excused if she loses her head. 

LADY MARY (impulsively). George, I am so sorry if I said anythingagainst your mother. I am sure she is the dearest old thing. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (in calm waters at last). Of course for women of ourclass she has a very different standard. 

LADY MARY (grown tiny). Of course. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. You see, knowing how good a woman she is herself, she was naturally anxious that I should marry some one like her. That iswhat has made her watch your conduct so jealously, Mary. 

LADY MARY (hurriedly thinking things out). I know. I--I think, George, that before your mother comes I should like to say a word to father. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (nervously). About this?

LADY MARY. Oh no; I shan't tell him of this. About something else. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. And you do forgive me, Mary?

LADY MARY (smiling on him). Yes, yes. I--I am sure the boat was verylate, George. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (earnestly). It really was. 

LADY MARY. I am even relieved to know that you are not quite perfect, dear. (She rests her hands on his shoulders. She has a moment ofcontrition. ) George, when we are married, we shall try to be not anentirely frivolous couple, won't we? We must endeavour to be of somelittle use, dear. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (the ass). Noblesse oblige. 

LADY MARY (haunted by the phrases of a better man). Mary Lasenby isdetermined to play the game, George. 

(Perhaps she adds to herself, 'Except just this once. ' A kiss closesthis episode of the two lovers; and soon after the departure of LADYMARY the COUNTESS OF BROCKLEHURST is announced. She is a very formidableold lady. )

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Alone, George?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mother, I told her all; she has behavedmagnificently. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST (who has not shared his fears). Silly boy. (She castsa supercilious eye on the island trophies. ) So these are the wondersthey brought back with them. Gone away to dry her eyes, I suppose?

LORD BROCKLEHURST (proud of his mate). She didn't cry, mother. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. No? (She reflects. ) You're quite right. I wouldn'thave cried. Cold, icy. Yes, that was it. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (who has not often contradicted her). I assure you, mother, that wasn't it at all. She forgave me at once. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST (opening her eyes sharply to the full). Oh!

LORD BROCKLEHURST. She was awfully nice about the boat being late; sheeven said she was relieved to find that I wasn't quite perfect. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST (pouncing). She said that?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. She really did. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. I mean I wouldn't. Now if I had said that, what wouldhave made me say it? (Suspiciously. ) George, is Mary all we think her?

LORD BROCKLEHURST (with unexpected spirit). If she wasn't, mother, youwould know it. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Hold your tongue, boy. We don't really know whathappened on that island. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. You were reading the book all the morning. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. How can I be sure that the book is true?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. They all talk of it as true. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. How do I know that they are not lying?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Why should they lie?

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Why shouldn't they? (She reflects again. ) If I hadbeen wrecked on an island, I think it highly probable that I should havelied when I came back. Weren't some servants with them?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Crichton, the butler. (He is surprised to see herring the bell. ) Why, mother, you are not going to--

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Yes, I am. (Pointedly. ) George, watch whetherCrichton begins any of his answers to my questions with 'The fact is. '

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Why?

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Because that is usually the beginning of a lie. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (as CRICHTON opens the door). Mother, you can't dothese things in other people's houses. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST (coolly, to CRICHTON). It was I who rang. (Surveyinghim through her eyeglass. ) So you were one of the castaways, Crichton?

CRICHTON. Yes, my lady. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Delightful book Mr. Woolley has written about youradventures. (CRICHTON bows. ) Don't you think so?

CRICHTON. I have not read it, my lady. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Odd that they should not have presented you with acopy. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Presumably Crichton is no reader. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. By the way, Crichton, were there any books on theisland?

CRICHTON. I had one, my lady--Henley's poems. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Never heard of him. 

(CRICHTON again bows. )

LADY BROCKLEHURST (who has not heard of him either). I think you werenot the only servant wrecked?

CRICHTON. There was a young woman, my lady. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. I want to see her. (CRICHTON bows, but remains. )Fetch her up. (He goes. )

LORD BROCKLEHURST (almost standing up to his mother). This isscandalous. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST (defining her position). I am a mother. 

(CATHERINE and AGATHA enter in dazzling confections, and quake in secretto find themselves practically alone with LADY BROCKLEHURST. )

(Even as she greets them. ) How d'you do, Catherine--Agatha? You didn'tdress like this on the island, I expect! By the way, how did you dress?

(They have thought themselves prepared, but--)

AGATHA. Not--not so well, of course, but quite the same idea. 

(They are relieved by the arrival of TREHERNE, who is in clericaldress. )

LADY BROCKLEHURST. How do you do, Mr. Treherne? There is not so much ofyou in the book as I had hoped. 

TREHERNE (modestly). There wasn't very much of me on the island, LadyBrocklehurst. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. How d'ye mean? (He shrugs his honest shoulders. )

LORD BROCKLEHURST. I hear you have got a living, Treherne. Congratulations. 

TREHERNE. Thanks. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Is it a good one?

TREHERNE. So--so. They are rather weak in bowling, but it's a good bitof turf. (Confidence is restored by the entrance of ERNEST, who takes inthe situation promptly, and, of course, knows he is a match for any oldlady. )

ERNEST (with ease). How do you do, Lady Brocklehurst. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Our brilliant author!

ERNEST (impervious to satire). Oh, I don't know. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. It is as engrossing, Mr. Woolley, as if it were awork of fiction. 

ERNEST (suddenly uncomfortable). Thanks, awfully. (Recovering. ) The factis--(He is puzzled by seeing the Brocklehurst family exchange meaninglooks. )

CATHERINE (to the rescue). Lady Brocklehurst, Mr. Treherne and I--we areengaged. 

AGATHA. And Ernest and I. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST (grimly). I see, my dears; thought it wise to keep theisland in the family. 

(An awkward moment this for the entrance of LORD LOAM and LADY MARY, who, after a private talk upstairs, are feeling happy and secure. )

LORD LOAM (with two hands for his distinguished guest). Aha! ha, ha!younger than any of them, Emily. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Flatterer. (To LADY MARY. ) You seem in high spirits, Mary. 

LADY MARY (gaily). I am. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST (with a significant glance at LORD BROCKLEHURST). After--

LADY MARY. I--I mean. The fact is--

(Again that disconcerting glance between the Countess and her son. )

LORD LOAM (humorously). She hears wedding bells, Emily, ha, ha!

LADY BROCKLEHURST (coldly). Do you, Mary? Can't say I do; but I'm hardof hearing. 

LADY MARY (instantly her match). If you don't, Lady Brocklehurst, I'msure I don't. 

LORD LOAM (nervously). Tut, tut. Seen our curios from the island, Emily;I should like you to examine them. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Thank you, Henry. I am glad you say that, for I havejust taken the liberty of asking two of them to step upstairs. (Thereis an uncomfortable silence, which the entrance of CRICHTON with TWEENYdoes not seem to dissipate. CRICHTON is impenetrable, but TWEENY hangsback in fear. )

LORD BROCKLEHURST (stoutly). Loam, I have no hand in this. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST (undisturbed). Pooh, what have I done? You alwaysbegged me to speak to the servants, Henry, and I merely wanted todiscover whether the views you used to hold about equality were adoptedon the island; it seemed a splendid opportunity, but Mr. Woolley has nota word on the subject. 

(All eyes turn to ERNEST. )

ERNEST (with confidence). The fact is--

(The fatal words again. )

LORD LOAM (not quite certain what he is to assure her of). I assure you, Emily--

LADY MARY (as cold as steel). Father, nothing whatever happened on theisland of which I, for one, am ashamed, and I hope Crichton will beallowed to answer Lady Brocklehurst's questions. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. To be sure. There's nothing to make a fuss about, andwe're a family party. (To CRICHTON. ) Now, truthfully, my man. 

CRICHTON (calmly). I promise that, my lady. 

(Some hearts sink, the hearts that could never understand a Crichton. )

LADY BROCKLEHURST (sharply). Well, were you all equal on the island?

CRICHTON. No, my lady. I think I may say there was as little equalitythere as elsewhere. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Ah the social distinctions were preserved?

CRICHTON. As at home, my lady. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. The servants?

CRICHTON. They had to keep their place. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Wonderful. How was it managed? (With an inspiration. )You, girl, tell me that?

(Can there be a more critical moment?)

TWEENY (in agony). If you please, my lady, it was all the Gov. 's doing. 

(They give themselves up for lost. LORD LOAM tries to sink out ofsight. )

CRICHTON. In the regrettable slang of the servants' hall, my lady, themaster is usually referred to as the Gov. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. I see. (She turns to LORD LOAM. ) You--

LORD LOAM (reappearing). Yes, I understand that is what they call me. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST (to CRICHTON). You didn't even take your meals withthe family?

CRICHTON. No, my lady, I dined apart. 

(Is all safe?)

LADY BROCKLEHURST (alas). You, girl, also? Did you dine with Crichton?

TWEENY (scared). No, your ladyship. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST (fastening on her). With whom?

TWEENY. I took my bit of supper with--with Daddy and Polly and the rest. 

(Vae victis. )

ERNEST (leaping into the breach). Dear old Daddy--he was our monkey. Youremember our monkey, Agatha?

AGATHA. Rather! What a funny old darling he was. 

CATHERINE (thus encouraged). And don't you think Polly was the sweetestlittle parrot, Mary?

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Ah! I understand; animals you had domesticated?

LORD LOAM (heavily). Quite so--quite so. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. The servants' teas that used to take place here oncea month--

CRICHTON. They did not seem natural on the island, my lady, and werediscontinued by the Gov. 's orders. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. A clear proof, Loam, that they were a mistake here. 

LORD LOAM (seeing the opportunity for a diversion). I admit it frankly. I abandon them. Emily, as the result of our experiences on the island, Ithink of going over to the Tories. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. I am delighted to hear it. 

LORD LOAM (expanding). Thank you, Crichton, thank you; that is all. 

(He motions to them to go, but the time is not yet. )

LADY BROCKLEHURST. One moment. (There is a universal but stifled groan. )Young people, Crichton, will be young people, even on an island; now, I suppose there was a certain amount of--shall we say sentimentalising, going on?

CRICHTON. Yes, my lady, there was. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST (ashamed). Mother!

LADY BROCKLEHURST (disregarding him). Which gentleman? (To TWEENY) You, girl, tell me. 

TWEENY (confused). If you please, my lady--

ERNEST (hurriedly). The fact is--(He is checked as before, and probablysays 'D--n' to himself, but he has saved the situation. )

TWEENY (gasping). It was him--Mr. Ernest, your ladyship. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST (counsel for the prosecution). With which lady?

AGATHA. I have already told you, Lady Brocklehurst, that Ernest and I--

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Yes, now; but you were two years on the island. (Looking at LADY MARY). Was it this lady?

TWEENY. No, your ladyship. 

LADY BROCKLEHURST. Then I don't care which of the others it was. (TWEENYgurgles. ) Well, I suppose that will do. 

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Do! I hope you are ashamed of yourself, mother. (ToCRICHTON, who is going). You are an excellent fellow, Crichton; and if, after we are married, you ever wish to change your place, come to us. 

LADY MARY (losing her head for the only time). Oh no, impossible--

LADY BROCKLEHURST (at once suspicious). Why impossible? (LADY MARYcannot answer, or perhaps she is too proud. ) Do you see why it should beimpossible, my man?

(He can make or mar his unworthy MARY now. Have you any doubt of him?)

CRICHTON. Yes, my lady. I had not told you, my lord, but as soon asyour lordship is suited I wish to leave service. (They are all immenselyrelieved, except poor TWEENY. )

TREHERNE (the only curious one). What will you do, Crichton? (CRICHTONshrugs his shoulders; 'God knows', it may mean. )

CRICHTON. Shall I withdraw, my lord? (He withdraws without a tremor, TWEENY accompanying him. They can all breathe again; the thunderstorm isover. )

LADY BROCKLEHURST (thankful to have made herself unpleasant). Horrid ofme, wasn't it? But if one wasn't disagreeable now and again, it wouldbe horribly tedious to be an old woman. He will soon be yours, Mary, andthen--think of the opportunities you will have of being disagreeable tome. On that understanding, my dear, don't you think we might--? (Theircold lips meet. )

LORD LOAM (vaguely). Quite so--quite so. (CRICHTON announces dinner, andthey file out. LADY MARY stays behind a moment and impulsively holds outher hand. )

LADY MARY. To wish you every dear happiness. 

CRICHTON (an enigma to the last. ) The same to you, my lady. 

LADY MARY. Do you despise me, Crichton? (The man who could never tell alie makes no answer. ) You are the best man among us. 

CRICHTON. On an island, my lady, perhaps; but in England, no. 

LADY MARY. Then there's something wrong with England. 

CRICHTON. My lady, not even from you can I listen to a word againstEngland. 

LADY MARY. Tell me one thing: you have not lost your courage?

CRICHTON. No, my lady. 

(She goes. He turns out the lights. )