\ J THE LIBRARY OF THE OF LOS UNIVERSITY CALIFORNIA ANGELES UNDER THE ROSE Urxder tke pose A STORY IN SCENES By F. ANSTEY ACTHOR OF "VICE VERSA," "VOCES POPULI," "THE MAN FROM blaxkley's,' &C. &l . WITH FIFTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. BERNARD PARTRIDGE Reprinted from " Punch " LONDON BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. Ld., 9, BOUVERIE ST., E.G. LONDON : URADBUKV, AUNEW, & CO. LD., I'RINTER.s, wniTEFRIARX. Contents. PAGK Scene I.— An Uneasy Conscience . . . . l Scene II.— In Suspense ... . .15 Scene III. — Learning the Woest 23 Scene IV.— Confession under Difficulties . . . 33 Scene Y. — A Startling Suggestion 45 Scene VI. — Suspicion 57 Scene VII. — Plot and Counterplot 65 Scene VIII.— An Acquired Taste 75 Scene IX.— Tu Quoque ! : S9 Scene X.— Une BoIte a Surprise 103 Scene XI. — An Optical Delusion 117 Scene XII. — A Pyrrhic Victory 131 Scene XIII.— The Biter Bit 145 v 151264 - Contents. PAGE Scene XIV.— A New Development 101 Scene XV. —In the Study 167 Scene XVI.— A Revolting Daughtbb \7'< Scene XVII.— A Tight Place 1S7 Seen.' XVIII.— Circumstantial Evidence . . . .201 Scene XIX.— Climbing Down . . ... 211 VI Illustrations. PAGE "how shall i ever tell cobnelia?" 5 "if i were you, i wouldn't mention this to aunt " . . 27 "he does mean that!" 39 "i drop into a music-hall!" 53 "admit mr. toovey and party to box o" . . .69 "yes; but i didn't realise" 81 "mr. collimore conduces hisself as a gentleman" . 93 " goo'bye, DUCKY!" Ill "see us lurch along in line" 121 "it's like singing to a lot of 'ap'ny ices ! " . . . 139 mrs. toovey suddenly sits down, scarlet .... 155 "dear, dear me!" 171 "can't you understand what a difference it makes?". 183 "the last place i expected to find you in !" . . 197 "so you've found your spectacles!" 215 Vll Dramatis Personam Me. Theophilus Toovey. Cornelia Toovey (his wife). Altiiea Toovey (his daughter). Charles Collimore (Mrs. Toovey's nephew). Clarence Curphew. Colonel Merridew. Cecilia Merridew (his wife). Captain Alciiin. Jannaway (a stockbroker's clerk). Miss Milly (his fiancee). Phosre (parlour-maid at Hornbeam Lodge). Mrs. Ruffles (a landlady). A Cabman. Artistes, Officials, &c., at The "Eldorado " Palace of Varieties. VI 1 1 RH UfiEflSV COflSClEflCE. * * Scene I. A decorously-furnished Drawing- room at Hornbeam Lodge, Clap- ham, the residence of Theophilus Toovey, Esq. It is Sunday evening. Mr. TOOVEY, an elderly Gentleman with a high forehead, a rabbit mouth, and a long but somewhat wispy beard, is discovered sitting alone with a suitable book, upon which he is endeavouring to fix his thoughts, apparently without success. U\^\ R- TOOVEY (reading). " With what a mix- L£, ture of indescribable emotions did I find J myself actually standing upon the very brink " (To himself, as he puts the volume down.) It's no use, I can't concentrate my mind on Palestine to-night, I can't forget this horrible " Eldorado." Ever since I got that official warrant, or demand, or whatever it was, yesterday, I've been positively haunted B 2 3 Under the Rose. by the name. It seems to meet me everywhere ; even on the very hoardings ! Why, why didn't I invest Aunt Eliza's legacy in consols, as Cornelia told me, instead of putting it into a gold-mine ? I think Larkins said it was a gold-mine. If only I had never met him that day last year — but he seemed to think he was doing me such a favour in letting me have some of his shares at all ; he'd been allotted more than he wanted, he told me, and he was so confident the Company was going to be a success that I — and now, after hearing nothing all this time, I'm suddenly called upon to pay a hundred and seventy-five pounds, and that's only for one half year, as far as I can make out. . . . How can I draw a cheque for all that without Cornelia finding out ? I never dared tell her, and she overlooks all my accounts. Why did I, who have never been a follower after Mammon, fall so easily into that accursed mine ? I am no business man. All the time I was a partner in that floorcloth factory, I never interfered in the conduct of it, beyond signing my name occasion- ally — which was all they allowed me to do — and the}' took the earliest opportunity of buying me out. And yet I must needs go and speculate with Aunt Eliza's five hundred pounds, and — what is worse — lose every penny, and more ! I, a Churchwarden, looked up to 4 "How shall I ever tell Cornelia?" Under the Rose. by every member of an Evangelical congregation, the head of a household like this ! . . . . How shall I ever tell Cornelia ? And yet I must — I never had a secret from her in my life. I shall know no peace till I have confessed all. I will confess — this very night — when we are alone. If I could speak to Charles first, or to that young Mr. Curphew — they will both be here to supper — and Charles is in a Solicitor's office. But my nephew is too young, and Mr. Curphew, though he is a journalist, is wise and serious beyond his years — and if, as Cornelia thinks, he is beginning to feel a tenderness for Althea, why, it might cause him to reconsider his No, I can't tell anyone but my wife. (Sounds are heard in the hall.) There they are ! — they are back from Church — already ! (He catches wp his book.) I must try to be calm. She must not notice anything at present ! Mrs. T. (outside). I've left my things downstairs, Phoebe ; j t ou can take them up to my room. (Enter- ing.) Well, Pa, I hope you feel less poorly than you did, after your quiet evening at home ? Mr. T. (flurried). Yes, my love, yes. I — I've had a peaceful time with Peregrinations in Palestine. A — a most absorbing book, my love. 7 Under the Rose. .Mrs. T. You would find it more absorbing, Pa, if you held it the right way up. You've been asleep ! Mb. T. No, indeed, 1 only wish I — that is — I may have dropped oft' for a moment. Charles (ivho has followed his Aunt). You wouldn't have had much chance of doing that if you'd been at Church, Uncle ! [Mrs. T. No, indeed. Mr. Powles preached a most awakening discourse, which I am glad to find Charles appreciated. Charles. I meant the cushion in your pew, Uncle ; you ought to have it restuffed. It's like sitting on a bag of mixed biscuits ! Mrs. T. We do not go to Church to be comfortable, Charles. Pa, Mr. Powles alluded very powerfully, from the pulpit, to the recent commercial disasters, and the sinfulness of speculation in professing Chris- tians. I wish you could have heard him. Mb. T. (sqvirming). A — a deprivation indeed, my love. But I was better at home — better at home. Mrs. T. Yob will have other opportunities; he announces a course of weekday addresses, at the Mission Rooms, on "The Thin End of the Wedge of 8 Under the Rose. Acban." Charles, I gave you one of the circulars to cany for me. Where is it ? Charles. In my overcoat, I think, Aunt. Shall I go and get it ? [Althea enters. Mrs. T. Not now ; I haven't my spectacles by me. Thea, did you tell Phcebe to pack your trunk the first thing to-morrow ? Althea. Yes, Mamma; but there is plenty of time. Cecilia doesn't expect me till the afternoon. Charles. So Thea's going up to town for a few days' spree, eh, Aunt Cornelia ? Mrs. T. (severely). Your cousin is going on a visit to a married schoolfellow, who is her senior by two or three years, and who, I understand, was the most exemplary pupil Miss Pruins ever had. I have no doubt Mrs. Merridew will take Althea to such entertainments as are fit and proper for her — picture-galleries, museums, concerts, possibly a lecture — but I should not describe that myself as a " spree." Charles. No more should I, Aunt, not by any means. Mrs. T. I never met this Mrs. Merridew, but I was favourably impressed by the way she wrote. A very sensible letter. 9 Under the Rose. Althea (to herself). Except the postscript. But I didn't like to show Mamma that ! Charles. But you'll go to a theatre or two, or a dance, or something while you're with her, won't you? [Altiiea tries to signal to him to be silent. Mrs. T. Charles, you forget where you are. A daughter of ours set foot in a playhouse ! Surely you know your Uncle's objection to anything in the nature of a theatrical entertainment ? Did he not write and threaten to resign the Vice-Presidency of the Lower Clapham Athenreum at the mere hint of a performance of scenes from some play by that dissolute writer Sheridan — even without costumes and scenery ? His protest was most admirably worded. I remember I drafted it myself. Mr. T. (with some complicate!/). Yes, yes, I've always been extremely firm on that subject, and also on the dangers of dancing — indeed, I have almost succeeded in putting an entire stop to the children dancing to piano-organs in the streets of this neighbourhood — a most reprehensible custom ! Mrs. T. Yes, Thcophilus, and you might have stopped it long before you did, if you had taken my suggestion earlier. I hope I am not to infer, from 10 Under the Rose. your manner, that you are yourself addicted to these so-called pleasures, Charles ? Charles. Dancing in the street to a piano-organ, Aunt ? Never did such a thing in my life ! Mrs. T. That was not my meaning, Charles, as you very well know. I hope you employ your evenings in improving your knowledge of your profession. I should be sorry to think you frequented theatres. Charles (demurely). Theatres? rather not, Aunt, never go near 'em. (To himself.) Catch me going where I can't smoke ! {Aloud.) You see when a fellow has lodgings in a nice cheerful street in Bloomsbury, it isn't likely he'd want to turn out of an evening after sticking hard at the office all day ! Mrs. T. I am glad to hear you say so, Charles. It is quite a mistake for a young man to think he cannot do without amusement. Your Uncle never thought of amusing himself when he was young — or our married life would not be what it is. And look at Mr. Curphew, who is coming in to supper to-night, see how hard he works — up to town every afternoon, and not back till long after midnight. [The bell rings. Charles. Rather queer hours to work, Aunt. Are you sure he doesn't go up just to read the paper? Althea (with a slight flush). He goes up to write it, II Under the Rose. Charles. Mr. Curphew is on the press, and has taken rooms here for the air of the Common. And— and he is very clever, and works very hard indeed; you can see that from his looks. Phcebe (announcing). Mr. Curphew. [A tall slim young man enters, with a pale, smooth- shaven face, and rather melancholy eyes, which light up as he greets Althka. Mrs. T. How do you do, Mr. Curphew? You are a little late — but some services last longer than others. Oh, Phoebe, now I think of it, just bring me a paper you will find in one of the pockets of ]\Ir. Collimore's overcoat; it's hanging up in the hall — the drab one with grey velvet on the collar. (Phoebe goes.) It's a circular, Mr. Curphew, which was given out in our Church this evening, and may interest you to see. Phq:iie (returning). If you please, m'm, this is the only paper I could find. Mns. T, (taking it /mm the salrcr, without looking at it). Quite right, Phcebe — we shall be ready for supper when I ring. (When Phoebe has gone,) I can't see anything without my Althea, just go and see if I have left my spectacle-case in my room, my dear. It's astonishing how they're always getting mislaid, 12 Under the Rose. and I'm so helpless without them. (Althea goes.) Mr. Curphew, perhaps you will read this aloud for me; I want my husband to hear. Curphew {suppressing a slight start). May I ask if they distribute papers of this sort at your Church — and — and why you think it is likely to interest me in particular ? (To himself.) Wonder if this can be a trap ! Mrs. T. (taking back the document, and holding it close to her nose). Gracious goodness! tltis isn't the Charles, perhaps you will explain how you come to have a paper in your pocket covered with pictures of females in shamelessly short skirts ? Charles (to himself). In for a pie-jaw this time! What an owl that girl is! (Aloud.) It's only a pro- gramme, Aunt; thing they give you at a music-hall, you know. Mrs. T. (in an awful voice). Only a programme ! Pa, tell this unhappy boy your opinion of his conduct ! Mr. T. (rising magisterially). Charles, am I to understand that a nephew of mine allows himself to be seen in a disreputable resort such as Charles. Oh come, Uncle, you can't know much about the Eldorado, if 13 Under the Rose. Mr. T. {with a bound). The Eldorado! How dare you bring that name up here, Sir? What do you mean by it ? Chables (surprised). Why, you must have heard of it — it's one of the leading music-halls. Mr. T. {gasping). A music-hall ? the Eldorado ! (To himself.) If it should turn out to be — but no, my nerves are upset, it can't be — and yet — what am I to say to him ? [He fall* back into Ids chair with a groan. Mrs. T. Charles, if you can stand there and feel no shame when you see how disturbed and disgusted even Mr. Curphew looks, and the agitated state to which you have reduced your poor Uncle, you must indeed be hardened! [Curphew has considerately walked to ///<■ window ,• Mr. Toovey endeavours to collect his faculties ; Charles looks from <>nc to the other in be- wilderment. 14 IH SUSPENSE. * * + Scene II. The Drawing-room as before. Mr. Toovey is slowly recover- ing from the mental collapse pro- duced by the mention of the word " Eldorado:' ^(\~) RS. TOOVEY. Altliea is out of the room, J^Lo, Pa, so there is no reason why you should ^ not speak out plainly. Mb. T. (to himself). No reason — oh ! But I must say something. If only I knew whether it was my Eldorado — but, no, it's a mere coincidence ! (Aloud — shakily.) Charles, my boy, you — you've shocked me very much indeed, as you can see. But, about the name of this establishment, now — isn't it a curious one for — for a music-hall, Charles '? M — mightn't it be confused with — well — say a mine now ? Mrs. T. Theophilus, this is scarcely the tone . I expected you to give this misguided boy a solemn warning of the ruin he may incur by having anything to do with such a haunt. C 17 Under the Rose. Mb. T. (to himself). Ah, I'm afraid I'm only too well qualified to do that (Aloud.) I do, Charles, I do — though at the same time, I can quite understand how one may, unwittingly — I mean, you might not be aware of Mrs. T. You, Pa, of all people in the world, trying to find excuses for his depravity ! The very name of the place is enough to indicate its nature ! Mr. T. {hastily). No, my love, surely not. There I think you go too far — too far altogether ! Mrs. T. I appeal to Mr. Curphew to say whether such a place is a proper resort for any young man. Curphew (to himself). Wish I was well out of this ! (Aloud.) I — I really don't feel qualified to give an opinion, Mrs. Toovey. Many young men do go to them, I believe. Charles (to himself). Is this chap a prig or a hum- bug? I'll draw him. (Aloud.) I suppose, from that, you never think of going yourself? Mrs. T. Mr. Curphew's tastes are rather different from yours, Charles. I am very sure that he is never to be seen among the audience at any music-hall — are you, Mr. ( lurphew ? Curphew (to himself). Could I break it to her is Under the Rose. gently, I wonder? (Aloud.) Never — my professional duties make that impossible. Charles (to himself). I knew he was a muff! (Aloud.) I should have thought you could easily get a pass to any place you wanted to go — in your profession. Curphew (to himself). He suspects something. (Aloud.) Should you ? Why ? Charles. Oh, as you're on a newspaper, you know. Don't they always have a free pass for every- where ? Curphew. If they have, I have never had occasion to make use of it. Charles. Well, of course you may turn up your nose at music-halls, and say they're not intellectual enough for you. Curphew. Pardon me, I never said I turned up my nose at them, though you'll admit they don't profess to make a strong appeal to the intellect. Charles. If they did, you wouldn't catch me there. But I can tell you, it's not so bad as you seem to think ; every now and then they get hold of a really good thing. You might do worse than drop into the " El." or the " Yah," the Valhalla, you know, some evening — just to hear Walter Wildfire. C 2 19 Under the Rose. Curphew. Much obliged ; but I can't imagine my- self going there for such a purpose. Mrs. T. Charles, if you suppose Mr. Curphew would allow himself to be corrupted by a boy like you Charles. But look here, Aunt. Walter Wildfire's all right — he is really ; he was a gentleman, and all that, before he took to this sort of thing, and he writes all his own songs — and ripping they are, too ! His line is the Broken-down Plunger, you know. (Mrs. T. repudiates any knowledge of this type.) He's got one song about a Hansom Cabby who has to drive the girl he was engaged to before he was broke, and she's married some other fellow since, and has got her little daughter with her, and the child gives him his fare, and — well, somehow it makes you feel choky when he sings it. Even Mr. Curphew couldn't find anything to complain of in Walter Wildfire ! Ai.tiika (who has entered during this speech). Mamma, I can't find your spectacles anywhere. Mr. Curphew, who is this Walter Wildfire Charles is so enthusiastic about ? Mrs. T. (hastily). No one that Mr. Curphew knows anything of — and certainly not a fit person to be men- tioned in your healing, my dear, so Let us say no more about it. Supper must be on the table by this time ; 20 Under the Rose. we had better go in, and try to find a more befitting topic for conversation. Charles, have the goodness to put this — this disgraceful paper in your pocket, and let rne see no more of it. I shall get your Uncle to speak to you seriously after supper. Mr. T. (aloud, with alacrity). Yes, my love, I shall certainly speak to Charles after supper — very seriously. (To himself.) And end this awful uncertainty ! Curphew (to himself, as he follows to the dining- room). " Not a fit person to be mentioned in her hearing ! " I wonder. "Would she say the same if she knew ? When shall I be able to tell her ? It would be madness as yet. 21 LiEfl^fll^G Tf4E UJORST. + * Scene 111. The Study at Hornbeam Lodge. Mr. Toovey and CHARLES are alone together. Mr. TOOVEY has found it impossible to come to the point. /^VHARLES (looking at his watch). I say, Uncle, \Jj I'm afraid I must trouble you for that wigging •-/ at once, if I'm going to catch my train back. You've only seven-and-a-half minutes left to exhort me in, so make the most of it. Mr. T. (with embarrassment). Yes, Charles, but — I don't wish to be hard on you, my boy — we are all liable to err, and — and, in point of fact, the reason I was a little upset at the mention of the Eldorado is, that a very dear old friend of mine, Charles, has lately lost a considerable sum through investing in a Company of the same name — and, just for the moment, it struck me that it might have been the music-hall — which of course is absurd, eh ? 25 Under the Rose. Charles. Rather! He couldn't possibly have lost it in the music-hall, Uncle ; it's ridiculous ! Mr. T. (relieved). Just what! thought. A man in his — ah — responsible position — oh no. But he's losl it in this other Company. And they've demanded a hundred and seventy-five pounds over and above the five hundred he paid on his shares. Now you know the law. Can they do that, Charles? Is he legally liable to pay ? Charles. Couldn't possibly say without knowing all the facts. It's a Limited Company, I suppose ? Mr. T. I — I don't know, Charles, but I can show you the official document which — ah — happens to be in my hands. Tin afraid I didn't examine it very carefully — I was too upset. (//«• goes /<< his secretaire, and returns with r anything? Althea. oh, thank you, Mr. Curphew, hut Plurbe is doing all that. Cubprew {to himself, his face falling). That's the 36 Under the Rose. maid ; then she's not alone ! I must get this over now, or not at all. (Aloud.) Miss Toovey, I — I've something I particularly want to say to you ; shall we walk up to the other end of the platform ? Althea (to herself). He looks more serious than ever ! Is he going to give me good advice '? It's kind of him to care, but still (Aloud.) Oh, hut we shan't have time. See, there's our train coining up now. Couldn't you say it in the railway carriage ? [The train runs in. Cukphew (to himself). For Phoebe's edification! No, I don't quite (Aloud, desperately.) It — it's something that concerns — something I can't very well say before anyone else — there'll be another train directly — would you mind waiting for it ? Althea (to herself). It's very mysterious. I should like to know what it can be ! (Aloud.) I — I hardly know. I think we ought, perhaps, to — but this doesn't look a very nice train, does it ? Curphew (with conviction). It's a beastly train ! One of the very worst they run, and full of the most objectionable people. It — it's quite noted for it. Althea (to Phcebe, luho hurries up with her hand- bag). No, never mind ; I'm not going by this train, Phcebe ; we'll wait for a more comfortable one. 37 Under the Rose. Phoebe. Very good, Miss. {To herself, us she re- tires.) Well, if that isn't downright barefaced — T don't know what is ! I hope they'll find a train to suit 'em before long, and not stay here picking and choosing all day, or I shan't get back in time to lay my cloth for dinner. But it's the way with all these quiet ones ! Altiiea. Did you want to speak to me about last night, Mr. Curphew? Has my cousin Charles been getting into any mischief? I only came in afterwards; but you were looking so shocked about something. Was it because he had been to a theatre, and do you think that very wicked of him ? Cuiu'hew {to himself). I ought to manage to lead up to it now. (Aloud.) It was not a theatre exactly — it was — well, it was a music-hall. Aithka. Oh ! but is there any difference? Cuhphew. Not much — between a music-hall and some theatres. At theatres, you Bee, they perform a regular play, with a connected plot — at least, some of the pieces have a connected plot. At a music-hall the entertainment is — er — varied. Songs, conjuring tricks, ventriloquism, and — and that kind of thing. Altiika. Why, that's just Like the Penny Readings at our Athemeum ! 33 "He does mean that!" Under the Rose. Cuephew. Well, I should hardly have — but I'm not in a position to say. (To himself?) I'm further off than ever ! Althea. It couldn't he that, then ; for Papa has presided at Penny Readings himself. But Charles must have told him something that upset him, for he came down to breakfast looking perfectly haggard this morning. Charles had a long talk in the library with him last night after you left, and then Papa went to bed. Cuephew (to himself). I felt sure that fellow spotted me. So he's let the cat out to old Toove}' ! If I don't tell her now (Aloud.) Did Mr. Toovey seem — er — annoyed '? Althea. He looked worried, and I believe he wanted to consult you. Cuephew (to himself). The deuce he did ! (Aloud.) He mentioned me ? Althea. He talked of going round to see you, but Mamma insisted on his staying quietly indoors. Cuephew (to himself). Sensible woman, Mrs. Toovey! But I've no time to lose. (Aloud.) I think I can explain why he wished to see me. He has discovered my — my secret. Althea. Have you a secret, Mr. Curphew ? (To 41 Under the Rose. herself.) He can't mean that, and yet — oh, what am I to say to him ? CuBPHEW. I have. I always intended to tell him — but — but I wanted you to know it first. And it was rather difficult to tell. I — I risk losing everything by speaking. Althea (to herself). He does mean that ! But I won't be proposed to like this on a railway platform; I don't believe it's proper ; and 1 haven't even made up my mind ! (Aloud.) If it was difficult before, it will be harder than ever now — just when another train is coming in, Mr. Curphew. (JuitrHEw (angrily, as the train passes). Another — already ! The way they crowd the traffic on this line is simply dis But it's an express. It isn't going to stop, I assure you it isn't ! Altiiea. It has stopped. And we had better get in. PnGEBE. I don't know if you fancy the look of this train, Miss, but there's an empty first-class in front. < i RPHEW. This train stops everywhere. We shall get in just as soon by the next — sooner in fact. Altiiea. If you think so, Mr. Curphew, wait for it, but we really must go. Come, Plni'be. Phcebe. I only took a second for myself, Miss, not knowing you'd require 42 Under the Rose. Curphew (to himself). There's a chance still, if I can get a carriage to ourselves. (Aloud.) No, Miss Toovey, you must let me come with you. Your mother put you under my care, you know. (To Phozbe.) Here, give me Miss Toovey 's bag. Now, Miss Toove3 T , this way — we must look sharp. (He opens the door of an empty compartment, jnits Althea in, hands her the bag, and is about to follow when he is seized by the arm, and turns to find, himself in the grasp of Mr. Toovey.) How do you do, Mr. Toovey ? We — we are just off, you see. Mr. T. (breathlessly). I — I consider I am very fortunate in catching you, Mr. Curphew. I accident- ally learnt from my wife that you were going up about this time — so I hurried down, on the bare chance of Curphew (impatiently). Yes, yes, but I'm afraid I can't wait now, Sir. I — Mrs. Toovey asked me to take care of your daughter Mr. T. Althea will be perfectly safe. And I must have a few words with you at once on a matter which is pressing, Sir, very pressing indeed. Althea will excuse you. Althea (from the window). Of course. You mustn't think of coming, Mr. Curphew. Phoebe will look after me. 43 Under the Rose. C.ubphew. But — but I have an important engag< - ment in town myself ! Ai/niKA (mi kindly). You will get up quite as soon by the next train, Mr. Curphew, or even sooner — you said so yourself, you know ! (In an under -tone.) Stay. I'd rather you did — you can tell me your— your secret when I come back. The Guard. Vauxhall and Waterloo only, this train. Stand back there, please ! [ //- .s7^///.s- the door; the train more* on, leaving Curphew on the platform with Mr. Toovey. Curphew (to himself t bitterly). What luck I have! She's gone now — and I haven't told her, after all. And I'm left behind, to have it out [with this old pump! (Aloud.) Well, Sir, you've something to say to me? .Mi:. T. (nervously). I have — yes, certainly — only it — it's of rather a private nature, and — and perhaps we should be freer from interruption in the waiting-room here. Curphew (to himself). I wish I'd thought of that myself — earlier. "Well, he doesn't seem very formid- able ; it strikes me I shan't find it difficult to manage him. (Aloud.) The waiting-room, by all means. [HefoUowa Mr. Toovkv into the General Waitiny- room, and awaits developments. 44 A STfl^TIUriG SUGGESTI Ofl. * Scene V. A General Waiting-room at Clap- hum Junction. Curphew is lean- ing against the mantel-piece. Mr. Toovey is seated on one of the horsehair chairs against the wall. ^Y^\1X. TOOVEY (to himself). I do wish he'd 1,C% s ^ down, an d not look at me in that J austere way ! (Aloud.) Won't you take a chair ? It would be so much more comfortable. [He sliifts on Ids seat uneasily. Curphew (stiffly). Thanks, Mr. Toovey, but I'd rather stand — for so short a time. (A pause.) Well, Sir, you have something to say to me, I believe ? Mr. T. (to himself). Oh dear, I'm almost sorry now I — he won't make sufficient allowances for me. (Aloud, after another pause.) The fact is, Mr. Cur- phew, I — I've just made a — a veiy painful discovery, which — is there any water in that decanter ? because I — I feel a little thirsty. [Curphew pours him out a glass of water, which he sips. 47 Under the Rose. CuRPHEW. Come, Sir, we needn't beat about the bush. I think I can spare you the preliminaries. I suppose you've heard about the Eldorado? Mr. T. (to himself). lie knows already! These journalists tind out everything. {Aloud.) I — I have indeed, but I assure you that, up to the very moment my nephew informed me, I had no more suspicion Cuni'iiKW. You naturally consider that I ought to have told you at once, but the fact is, I — well, I had some reason to doubt whether Mrs. Toovey Mr. T. Oh, you were quite right, it would never have done — never have done. I haven't breathed a word to Mrs. Toovey myself as yet. I was afraid I might be obliged to this morning. She discovered that dreadful Eldorado programme in one of my pockets, and was curious, very naturally curious, as to why I had kept it, but T passed it off — 1 managed to pass it oft'. I — 1 thought it better, at all events till — till I had talked it over witli you. Cuki'iikw (to himself, relieved), lie takes it wonder- fully well. I shouldn't be surprised if I could talk him over. [Aloud.) Oh, decidedly, Sir. And may 1 ask you whal your own views are? Mr. T. I — I don't know what to think. For a man in my position to have evm the remotest connection 48 Under the Rose. with — with a London music-hall ! Wouldn't it be considered scandalous, or at least indecorous, if it were to leak out now ? Shouldn't I be regarded as — as inconsistent, for example ? Curphew. Oh, no one could reproach you, at all events, Sir ! Mr. T. (to himself). And I thought he was going to be so hard on me ! (Aloud.) I am glad you take that view of it — yes, I can't be held responsible for what I did in absolute ignorance; but, now that I do know, I can't go on, can I? — after a lifetime spent in con- demning such entertainments ! Curphew. But are you quite sure, Sir, that your condemnation was based on any real foundation; mayn't you have been too ready to think the worst ? Have you ever troubled yourself to inquire into the way they were conducted ? Mr. T. (to himself, in astonishment). Why, he's actually making excuses for them ! (Aloud.) I have always been given to understand that they were most improper places, Sir; that was sufficient for me — quite sufficient ! Curphew. I dare say I have no right to speak; but you may not be aware that all music-halls are now subject to the strictest supervision. And a body like E 49 Under the Rose. the London County Council is not likely to -auction any impropriety in the entertainments. Mi;. T. (to himself). If I could only persuade mys< If that I might keep the shares with a good conscience! To give up three hundred and fifty a year, without necessity! I wonder what he would say. (Aloud.) True, that didn't occur to me before; and the London County Council, they wouldn't encourage anything really If I could only be suit — and I'm open to conviction — I hope I'm always open to conviction. Curphew (to himself). He's coming round; he's not such a pig-headed old Pharisee as I thought. (Aloud.) I am sure you are. You are not the man to condemn any form of amusement, however harm- less, merely hecause you find no attraction in it yourself. Mi:. T. No, no. And I see the force of what you Bay; and if I could only once satisfy myself that the entertainment was really harmless Curphew (to himself). He couldn't very well object to my part of it — it's an idea, and worth trying. (Aloud.) My dear Sir, why shouldn't you ? In any ease 1 should terminate my connection with the music- hall as soon as possible. Mi:. T. [disappointed). Would you? Then you do 50 Under the Rose. think ? But the sacrifice, my dear young friend, it — it's a great deal of money to give up ! Curphew (lightly). Oh, that's of no consequence. I shouldn't think of that, for a moment ! Mr. T. (to himself, annoyed). It's all very well for him to talk like that, but it's my sacrifice, and I do think of it ! (Aloud.) But — hut wouldn't it he a little Quixotic to withdraw from this Eldorado, supposing I found there was no moral objection to it, eh? Curphew. I thought you would be the first to insist that the Eldorado should be given up ! Surely, Sir, when I tell you that I love your daughter ; that I hope, though I have not spoken as yet, to enter your family some day as your son-in-law, you will look at it differently? Mr. T. (to himself). He does want to marry our Thea ? Cornelia will be delighted — delighted, but I really can't allow him to dictate to me whether to sell the shares or not! (Aloud, with dignity.) My good young friend, I have lived longer than you in the world, and you will permit me to say that if, after investigation, I see no cause to disapprove of the Eldorado, there is no reason that I can discover why you should hesitate to enter my family. I — I must E 2 51 1'ntlcr the Rose. act on my own judgment — entirely on my own judg- ment ! Curphew (to himself). He is an <>M trump! Who would have thought he'd be so reasonable. {Aloud, overjoyed.) My dear Sir, how can I thank you'? That is all f ask — more than I could possibly have expected. And I was about to suggest thai yon might drop into the Eldorado sonic evening this week and judge for yourself. Mi:. T. (recoiling in consternation). I? I drop into a music-hall ! Oh, I couldn't, indeed ! Why, I never was in such a place in all my lite. And it anybody were to see me there ! Cubphew. You need not be seen at all. There are private boxes where no one would notice you. I could easily get them t<> send you one, if you like. Mi:. T. (to himself). What a power the Press i>, to be sure! I remember Charles said that newspaper writers could get seats tor everything. (Aloud.) Really, I hardly know what to say; it's >o wry contrary to all my habits, and then — to go alone. Now if //<<" would only accompany nu Curphew. Sou forget, Sir, that's quite impossible. / can'1 come in the box with you ! Mi:. T. (to him8elf). There it is — it's against his 5^ "I drop into a Music-hall!" Under the Rose. principles to go himself, and yet lie expects me to ! (Aloud, peevishly.) Then why are you so anxious to have me go, eh ? Curphew. Why '? Because there are Mrs. Toovey's prejudices to be considered, and I'm anxious that you should be in a position to assure her from your own personal experience that ■ Mr. T. Oh, my dear young friend, if I did go, I don't think I could ever mention such an experience as that to Mrs. Toovey. She — she might fail to understand that I merely went for the satisfaction of my own conscience. Curphew. She might, of course. So long as you satisfy yourself, then. And — what night will suit you best ? Mr. T. You're in such a hurry, young man. I — I never said I should go. I'm not at all sure that I can go; but if I did allow myself to venture, it would have to be some evening when my wife — let me see, on Saturday she's going out to some special meeting of her Zenana Mission Committee, I know. It had better be Saturday, if at all — if at all. Curphew (making a note). Very well. I will see you have a box for that evening, and I hope you will manage to go. But there's a train coming in — I must 55 Under the Rose. really be off. Good-bve, Sir, and very many thanks for the kind and generous way in which you have treated me. I am very glad we have had this explana- tion, and thoroughly understand one another. Good- bye — good-hye ! [He shakes Mr. Toovky's hand with cordial gratitude, and > ushes out. Mr. T. {looking after him in some mystification). A most high-minded young man, but a little too officious. And I don't understand why he makes such a point of my going to this Eldorado now. But, if I do go, I mayn't see anything to disapprove of; and, if I don't, I shall keep the shares — whether he likes it or not. He may be a very worthy young man, but I doubt whether ln's quite a man of the world ! 56 SUSPICION 4- Scene VI. The Breakfast-room at Hornbeam Lodge. Mrs. TOOVEY is alone, making the tea. TIME — 8.40 A.M. on Saturday YH US. TOOVEY (to herself). I cannot think I J^O, what has come to Theophilus. He has *s come down late for prayers every morning this week. Such a bad example for any household, and Cook is beginning to notice it — I could see it in her e} T e as she came in. He is so strange in his manner, too ; if I did not know he was absolutely in- capable of — but why did he secrete that abominable programme of Charles's ? He said he kept it with a view to making inquiries, but I have heard nothing about them since. (Aloud, to Phi counten- ance). Ha, so you've had prayers without me ? Quite right — quite right. Mrs. T. (severely). Anything but right, Pa. You ought to have been down long ago. 1 heard you brushing your hair as I went out. Mr. T. (feebly). It was very tiresome, my love, hut my collar-stud got under the wardrobe, and I couldn't gel it out for ever so long. Mrs. T, Your things have taken to behave in a very extraordinary manner, Pa. Yesterday it was your braces ! 60 Under the Rose. Mr. T. I — I believe it teas my braces yesterday. Ab well, we must bear with these little tribulations — bear with them ! (To himself.) A letter for me ? From the Eldorado ! It's the box ! I — I hoped Mr. Curphew had forgotten. [Tie thrusts it into his pocket unopened, in a flurry. Mrs. T. Is there any reason why you shouldn't read your letter, Pa '? It may be of importance. Mr. T. I — I don't think it is, my love — particularly. It — it will keep till after breakfast. What is this — kedgeree? Ha! I've come down with quite an appetite — quite a famous appetite ! [He 'pecks at liis kedgeree ostentatiously. Mrs. T. Perhaps I'd better ring and have two more egg's boiled if you're so hungry as all that, Pa ? Mr. T. (in terror at this suggestion). Not for me, my love, not for me. I — I've made an excellent breakfast ! Mrs. T. Then now, Pa, perhaps you will be at leisure to read your letter. I am curious to know what correspondence 3-ou can possibly have with an Eldorado Palace. Mr. T. (to himself). Oh, dear me, she's seen the flap ! Why do they put the name outside — so 61 Under the Rose. thoughtless of them ! (lie <>)>ais the letter.) Yes, it is the order. I can't show it to Cornelia! (Aloud.) I — I told you I whs making inquiries. Mrs. T. About Charles's habits? So you've written to the Manager, without consulting me! Well — what does he say '.' Mr. T. (to himself). I don't like these deceptions — but I must consider poor Charles. (Aloud). Oh— hum — very little, my love, very little indeed, but satisfactory — most satisfactory — he's no complaint to make of Charles — none whatever ! Mrs. T. As if it was likely you would get the truth from such a tainted source! Lot me see his letter. Mr. T. (pocketing the letter again, hastily). No, my dear love, you must excuse me— hut this is a private and confidential communication, and — and, in common fairness to Charles I'll trouble you for another cup of tea. (To himself.) It's for tlii- very night. I've a great mind not to go. How am 1 to make an excuse for getting away *. } (Aloud.) I've half a mind to run up some time, and — and look in on Charles. Mrs. T. (to herself). If Charles is misconducting himself, I ought to know — and I irill, sooner or later. I'm sure Theophilus is keeping something 62 Under the Rose. from me. (Aloud.) I've only put in one lump, Pa. You may find him at, home if you went up this afternoon. Mr. T. (relieved). An excellent suggestion, my love. I will go this afternoon. He — he might ask me to stay and dine with him ; so if — if I don't come back, you'll know where I am — eh*? You won't he anxious '? Mrs. T. (to herself). He's trying to spare me, but I can see he's most uneasy about Charles. (Aloud.) Well, Pa, I don't like the idea of }'our dining out with- out me — it will be the first time for years — but still, I shall have to be away myself this evening : there's a special meeting of the Zenana Mission Committee, and Mrs. Cumberbatch made such a point of un- attending — so, if you feel you really ought to see Charles Mr. T. Oh, I do, my dear. He — he wants looking after. And perhaps, if I could have a little quiet, serious talk with him, after dinner — or over a game of draughts. (To himself.) What a dissembler I've become ; but I do mean to look in on Charles, before I go to this Eldorado place, and there may be time for a game of draughts ! Mrs. T. You would learn more, Theophilus, by 63 I Fnder the Rose. putting a few questions to his landlady. Bui re- member, when you come back, I shall insist on being told everything — everything, mind! Mr. T. Oh, of course, my love, of course. (To himself.) It' my visit proves satisfactory, I — T might tell her. It will depend on how 1 feel — entirely on how I feel. < known the Park so full before Easter as it ^ was to-day. Try one of these hot cakes, Thea, or a jam sandwich — we don't dine till late, you 77 Under the Rose. know. It's been so nice having you, I do wish yon hadn't to go on Monday — must you? Althea. I'm afraid I must, Cissie; it has heen the most delightful week ; only — Clapham will seem dreadfully flat after all this. [She sif/Jis. Mrs. M. Notwithstanding the excitement of Mr. Curphew's conversation ? Althea. Mr. Curphew, Cissie? Mrs. 31. Now don't pretend ignorance, dear. You have quoted Mr. Curphew and his opinions often enough to show that you see and think a good deal of him. And, really, if you colour like that at the mere mention Althea. Am I colouring ? That last cup was so strong. And I don't see Mr. Curphew at all often. He is more Mamma's friend than mine — she has a very high opinion of him. Mrs. M. I daresay he deserves it. He's a fear- rally learned and superior person, isn't he? Ai/im.A. I — I don't know. He writes for the paper. Mrs. M. That's vague, dear. "What sort of paper? Political, Scientific, Sporting, Society — or what? Althea. I never asked; but I should think — will, he's rather serious, you know, Cissie. 7 « Under the Rose. Mrs. M. Then it's a comic paper, my dear, depend upon it ! Althea. Oh, Cissie, I'm sure it isn't. And he's very hardworking. He's not like most men of his age, he doesn't care in the least for amusements. Mrs. M. He must be a very lively person. But tell me — you used to tell me everything, Thea — does this immaculate paragon show any signs of ? Althea (in a low voice). I'm not sure Perhaps — but I may be mistaken. Mrs. M. And if — don't think me horribly imperti- nent — but if you're not mistaken, have you made up your mind what answer to give him ? Althea {imploringly). Don't tease me, Cissie. I thought once — but now I really don't know. I wish he wasn't so strict and severe. I wish he understood that one can't always be solemn — that one must have a little enjoyment in one's life, when one is young ! Mrs. M. And yet I seem to remember a girl who had serious searchings of heart, not so very long ago, as to whether it wasn't sinful to go and see Shake- speare at the Lyceum ! Althea. 1 know ; it was silly of me — but I didn't know what a theatre was like. I'd never been to see a play — not even at the Crystal Palace. But now I've 79 Under the Rose. been, I'd like to go to one every week ; they're lovely, and I don't believe anything that makes you cry mid Laugh like that can be wicked ! Mrs. M. Ah, you were no more meant to be a little Puritan then I was myself, dear. Heavens ! When I think what an abominable prig I must have been ai Miss Pruins'. AiiTHEA. You weren't in the least a prig, Cissie. But you were different. You used to say you intended to devote yourself entirely to Humanity. Mi;-. M. Yes J but I didn't realise then what a lot there were of them. And when I met Frank I thought it would be less ambitious to begin with him. Now I find there's humanity enough in Frank to occupy the devotion of a lifetime. But are you sure, Thea, that this journalist admirer of yours is quite the man to lie sounds dull, dear ; admirable and all that — but, oh, bo deadly dull ! Althea. If he was brilliant and fond of excitement ire shouldn't have known him ; for we're deadly dull ourselves, Cissie. I never knew hoiu dull till — till I came to stay with you ! Mrs. ML. You're not dull, you're a darling; and if you think I'm going to let you throw yourself away on some humdrum plodder who will expect you to find So VI CD -a Under the Rose. your sole amusement in hearing him prose, you're mis- taken ; because I shan't. Thea, whatever you do, don't be talked into marrying a Dryasdust ; you'll only be miserable if you do ! Althea. But Mr. Curphew isn't as bad as that, Cissie. And — and he hasn't asked me yet, and when he finds out how frivolous I've become, very likely he never will ; so we needn't talk about it any more, need we? Mes. M. Now I feel snubbed ; but I don't care, it's all for your good, my dear, and I've said all I wanted to, so we'll change the subject for something more amusing. (Colonel Merridew comes in.) Well, Frank, have you actually condescended to come in for some tea? (To Althea.) Generally he says tea is all very well for women ; and then goes off to his club and has at least two cups, and I daresay muffins. Col. M. Why not say ham-sandwiches at once, Cecilia, my dear ? pity to curb your imagination ! (Sitting down.) If that tea's drinkable, I don't know that I won't have a cup ; though it's not what I came for. I wanted to know if you'd settled to do anything this evening, because, if not, I've got a suggestion — struck me in the Row just after you'd passed, and I G 2 83 Under the Rose. thought I'd come back and see how you felt about it. (He takes Ids tea.) For me ? — thanks. Mrs. M. We feel curious about it at present, Frank. Cor.. M. Well, I thought that, as this is Miss Too- vey's last evening with us, it was a pity to waste it at home. Why shouldn't we have a little dinner at the Savoy, eh ? — about eight — and drop in somewhere afterwards, if we feel Inclined? Mrs. M. Do you know that's quite ;i delightful idea of yours, Frank. That is, unless Thea has had enough of gaiety, and would rather we had a quit I evening. Would you, dear ? [To Althea. Altiiea (eagerly). Oh, no, indeed, Cissie, I'm not a bit tired ! Mrs. M. You're quite sure? But where could we go on afterwards, Frank ; shouldn't we be too late for any theatre ? Col. M. I rather thought we might look in at the Eldorado ; you said you were very keen to hear Walter Wildfire. (//• perceives that his wife is telegraphing displeasure.) Eh? why, you did want me to take you. Althea (to herself). Walter Wildfire ? why, it was WaltiT Wildfire that Charles advised Mr. Curphew to go and hear. Mr. Curphew said it was the very last thing he was likely to do. Jiut he's so prejudiced ! 84 Under the Rose. Mrs. M. (trying to make her husband understand) . Some time — but I think, not to-night, Frank. Col. M. If it's not to-night you mayn't get another ■chance ; they say he's going to give up singing very soon. Mrs. M. Oh, I hope not ! I remember now hearing he was going to retire, because his throat was weak, or else he was going into Parliament, or a Retreat, or something or other. But I'm sure, Frank, Althea wouldn't quite like to Col. M. Then of course there's no more to be said. I only thought she might be amused, you know. Althea. But indeed I should, Colonel Merridew, please let us go ! Mrs. M. But, Thea dear, are you sure you quite understand what the Eldorado is ? — it's a music-hall. Of course it's all right, and everyone goes nowadays ; but, still, I shouldn't like to take you if there was any chance that your mother might disapprove. You might never be allowed to come to us again. Althea {to herself). They're both dying to go, I can see ; it's too hateful to feel oneself such a kill-joy ! And even Mr. Curphew admitted that a music-hall was no worse than a Penny Beading. (Aloud.) I don't think Mamma would disapprove, Cissie ; not 85 Under the Rose. more than she would of my going to theatres, and I've been to them, you know ! Col. M. We'd have a box, of course, and only just get there in time to hear Wildfire ; we could go away directly afterwards — 'pon my word, Cecilia, I don't see any objection, if Miss Toovey would like to go. Never heard a word against Wildfire's singing, and as for the rest, well, you admitted last time there was no real harm in the thing ! AliTHEA. Do say yes, Cissie. I do want to hear this Walter Wildfire so ! Mrs. M. I'm not at all sure that I ought to say any- thing of the sort, but there — I'll take the responsi- bility. Col. M. Then that's settled. We'll take great care of you, Miss Toovey. I'll just go down to the Rag, Cecilia, and send out to get a box. I'll see if I can find someone to make a fourth, and I daresay we shall manage to amuse ourselves. [lie goes out. Mns. M. Thea. I really don't feel quite happy about this. I think I'll go after Frank and tell him not to get that box after all ; he won't have left the house yet. [She attempts to rise. Althea. No, Cissie, you mustn't, if it's on my account. I won't let you ! [She holds her back. 86 Under the Rose. Mrs. M. But, Thea, think. How would you like this Mr. Curphew to know that ? Althea (releasing her suddenly). Mr. Curphew! What does it matter to me what Mr. Curphew ?. . . There, Colonel Merridew has gone, Cissie, I heard the door shut. It's too late — and I'm glad of it. We shall go to the Eldorado and hear Walter Wildfire after all ! *7 tu quoquet 4-4-4- Scene IX Charles Collimore's Sitting- room in Kcppcl Stteet, a rather depressing apartment, with folding doors at the back communicating with bedroom. Time — Saturday afternoon. ^YY"\PiS. RUFFLES (the landlady, showing Mr. I J^C Toovey in). Oh, I thought Mr. Collimore +s had come in, Sir, but I expect him in every minute. Will you take a seat ? Mb. T. (sitting down). Thank you, I'm in no hurry — no hurry at all. (To himself.) Cornelia wished me to put a few questions quietly to the landlady. I suppose I'd better do it while (Aloud.) Hem, I hope, Ma'am, that you find Mr. Collimore a — an un- exceptionable lodger — in all respects ? Mrs. R. (crossing her hands stiffly in front of her). Mr. Collimore conducks hisself as a gentleman, and treats me as a lady, which is all my requirements. 9* Under the Rose. Mr. T. Quite so — very satisfactory, I'm suit, but — does he keep fairly regular hours ? Or is lie at all inclined to be— it— fast ? Mrs. II. (on her guard). I can't answer for the time his watch keeps, myself. I dessay it goes as reg'lar as what most do. Mr. T. No, no ; I was referring to his habits. I mean — does he usually spend his evenings quietly at home ? Mrs. R. You'll excuse me t but if you're arsking me all these questions out of mere himpertinent curiosity Mr. T. I — I trust I have a higher motive, Ma'am. In fact, I may as well tell you I am Mr. Collimore's uncle. Mrs. Ii. (to herself). The old fox! So he's trying to ferret out something against him, is he ? "Well, he won't — that's all. (Aloud.) If you are his huncle, Sir, all I can say is, you've got a nephew to be proud on. I wouldn't wish to let my first floor to a steadier or a more industrious young gentleman; comes in punctual to a tick every night of his life and 'as his dinner, and sets studyin' his boo]; till 'alf-past ten, which is his bed-time. I don't know what more you want. Mr. T. (to himself). This is really very satisfactory 92 "Mr. Collimore conducks hisself as a gentleman." Under the Rose. — if I could only believe it. (Aloud.) But do I understand you to say that that is his invariable practice ? Occasionally, I suppose, he goes out to a place of amusement — such as a music-hall, now? Mrs. R. (to herself). Well, he may; and why not? He don't get into no mischief, though light-'earted. I ain't going to give him a bad name. (Aloud.) Lor, Sir, don't you go and put such ideas into his 'ed. Bless your 'art alive, if he knows there are such places, it's as much as he does know ! Mr. T. (testily). Now, now, my good woman, I'm afraid you're trying to deceive me. I happen to know more about my nephew's tastes and pursuits than you imagine. Mrs. R. {roused). Then, if you know so much, what- ever do j^ou come 'ere and ask me for ? It's my belief you ain't up to no good, for all you look so respectable, comin' into my 'ouse a-pokin' your nose into what don't concern you, for all the world like a poll-pryin', sneakin' Russian spy ! Charles (entering behind her from bedroom). Hallo, Mrs. Ruffles, what's all this — who's a Russian spy, eh ? (Recognizing Mr. Toovey). What — Uncle ! you don't mean to say it's you ? [Mr. Toovey stands stricken with confusion. 95 Under the Rose. Mrs. 11. I may have spoke too free, Mr. Cpllimore, Sir, but when a party, as is elderly enough to know- better, tries to put under'and questions to me about where and 'ow any o' my gentlemen pass their hevenins, and if they go to the music-'all and what not — why, I put it to 3'ou CHABLES. All right, Mrs. Ruffles, put it to me some other time; you didn't understand my uncle, that's all — you needn't stay. Oh, by the way, I'm dining out again this evening. Tell Unfile-, to Leave the chain, as I may be late. {After Mrs. R. has retired.) Well, Uncle, I'm afraid your diplomacy hasn't had quite the success it deserved. Mr. T. (sheepishly). I assure you, my boy, that I — I was not inquiring for my own satisfac- tion. Your Aunt is naturally anxious to know how you Hut your landlady gave you an excellent character. CHARLES. She didn't seem to be equally compli- mentary to you, Uncle. " A Russian spy," wasn't it? I'.ut really, you know, you might have come to me for any information you require. / don't mind telling you all there is to tell. And surely Aunt knows I've been to a music-hall; why, she pitched into me about it enough last Sunday ! 96 Under the Rose. Mr. T. I — I think she wanted to know whether you went frequently, Charles, or only that once. Charles. Oh, and so she sent you up to pump nay landlady? Well, I'll tell you exactly how it is. I don't set up to be a model young man like your friend Curphew. I don't spend all my evenings in this cheerful and luxurious apartment. Now and then I find the splendour of the surroundings rather too much for me, and I'm ready to go anywhere, even to a music-hall, for a change. There, I blush to say, I spend an hour or two, smoking cigars, and even drinking a whiske} 7 and soda, or a lemon squash, listening to middle-aged ladies in sun-bonnets and accordion skirts singing out of tune. I don't know that they amuse me much, but, at all events, they're livelier than Mrs. Ruffles. I'm dining out to-night, at the Criterion, with a man at the office, and it's as likely as not we shall go into the Valhalla or the Eldorado afterwards. There, you can't say I'm con- cealing anything from you. And Idon't see why you should groan like that, Uncle. Mr. T. (feebly). I — I'd rather you didn't go to the — the Eldorado, Charles. Charles. There's ingratitude ! I thought you'd be touched by my devotion. ii 97 Under the Rose. Mb. T. (to himself). I can't tell him I was think- ing of going there myself! [Aloud.) You will show your devotion best by keeping away. The less young men go to such places, my boy, the better ! Charles. Not for you, Uncle. You forget that it's the humble live bob of fellows like me that help to provide your next dividend. Mr. T. (wincing). Don't, Charles, it— it's un- generous and undutiful to reproach me with being a shareholder when you know how innocently I became one ! Charles. But I wasn't reproaching you, Uncle, it was rather the other way round, wasn't it ? And really, considering you are a shareholder in the Eldorado, it's a little too strong to condemn me for merely going there. Mm T. I — I may not be a shareholder long, Charles. Unless I can conscientiously feel able to retain my shares I shall take the first opportunity of selling them. Charles. But why, Uncle? Better stick to them now you have got them ! Mr. T. What? with the knowledge that 1 was profiting by practices I disapproved of"? Never, Charles! 9 8 Under the Rose. Charles. But you can't sell without making a profit, you know ; they've gone up tremendously. Mr. T. Oh, dear me ! Then, do you mean that I shouldn't even be morally justified in selling them ? Oh, you don't think that, Charles? Charles. That's a point you must settle for your- self, Uncle, it's beyond me. But, as a dutiful nephew, don't you see, I'm bound to do all I can in the mean- time to keep up the receipts for you, if I have to go to the Eldorado every evening and get all the fellows I know to go too. Mustn't let those shares go down, whether you hold on or sell, eh ? Mr. T. (horrified). Don't make me an excuse for encouraging young men to waste precious time in idleness and folly. I won't allow it — it's abominable, Sir ! You've put me in such a state of perplexity by all this, Charles, I — I hardly know where I am ! Tell me, are you really going to the Eldorado this evening ? Charles. I can't say : it depends on the other fellow. But I will if I can get him to go, for your sake. And I'm afraid I ought to go and change, Uncle, if you'll excuse me. Make yoinself as com- fortable as you can. Here's to-day's Pink 'Un, if you haven't seen it. H 2 99 Under the Rose. Mr. T. I'm not in the habit of seeing snch periodicals, Sir. And I must be going. Oh, by the bye, your Aunt wished me to ask you to come down and dine and sleep on Monday next. Thea will be back, and I believe Mr. Curphew has got a free evening for once. Shall I tell her you will come, Charles ? Charles. Thanks ; I'll come with pleasure. But, I say, Aunt doesn't want to give me another lecture, I hope ? After all, she can't say much if you've told her about those shares, as I suppose j t ou have. Mr. T. N — not yet, Charles. I have not found a convenient opportunity. There, 1 can't stay — good- bye, my boy. [He takes his leave. Mr. T. [outside, to himself). I'm afraid Charles has lost every particle of respect for me. I wish I had never told him about those wretched shares. And what am I to do now? If I go to this Eldorado place, he may be there too ; and, if he sees me, 1 shall never hear the last of it! And yet my mind will never be easy unless I do go IOO Under the Rose. and see for myself what it really is like. That young Curphew expects me to go. But I don't know, I do so dread the idea of going — alone, too ! I should like to ask somebody else what he thinks I ought to do — somebody who is a man of the world. I wonder if I went to see Larkins — he won't be in his office so late as this, but I might catch him in his chambers. It was all through him I got into this difficulty; he ought to help me out of it if he can. I really think I might take a cab and drive to Piccadilly, on the chance. [He hails a Hansom, and drives of. IOI UftE BOITE R SURPRISE. 4 4- 4 Scene X. Entrance to the Eldorado Music Hall. Mrs. Toovey, who has just alighted from a Waterloo bus, ap- proaches ; she wears a veil, under which her spectacles gleam balefully, and passes the various boards and coloured posters with averted eyes. Time — Saturday evening, about 8.30. ^CY~\ RS. TOOVEY (to herself). I'm late— I ought J^Li^, to have taken a cab, instead of that J dawdling bus. Still, I shall be in plenty of time to surprise Pa in the very midst of his profligacy. (She looks around her.) Gilding, rosewood and mahogany panels, plush, stained glass — oh, the wicked luxury of it all ! (She pushes open a swing door.) 105 Under the Rose. "Where is the place you call Box C ? I — I have to meet somebody there. [She finds herself in a glittering bar, where she produces a distinct sensation among the few loungers there. A Barmaid (tartly). There's no entrance to the music-hall this way. You've come to the wrong place. Mrs. T. (with equal acidity). Ah, young woman, you need not tell me that! (She goes out with a withering glance, and hears stifled s)iiggers as the doors swing after her.) A drinking-bar on the very threshold to trap the unwary — disgraceful ! (She tries the next door, and finds a stalwart official in a fancy uniform.) Will you have the goodness to conduct me to Box C, instantly ? The Official. Next dour, please, Ma'am. This only admits to the Grand Lounge. Mrs. T. (to herself). The "Grand Lounge" indeed ! (She opens another door, and finds straight home and sit up for him ! n6 RH OPTICflli DELiUSIOfi. * Scene XI. Another box at the Eldorado. Enter Mrs. Merridew «/z^Althea, followed by Colonel Merridew and Captain Alchin. Time — About 9.30 p.m. -fTO RS. MERRIDEW. Frank, the man did say, I JLo, Walter Wildfire hasn't sung yet, didn't lie? J Yes ? then that's all right ! Oughtn't you and I to sit at the back, Thea ? Well, you shall have this corner at any rate, and then the curtain will hide you. Captain Alchin, will you come between us, please, and then you can explain any of the jokes we don't understand ? [They settle down. Captain Alchin. Pleasure ! (To himself.) Think I see myself explainin' the jokes and that ! (Aloud.) Afraid I shan't be of much use, really. Rather out of my line this sort of thing, you know ! Mrs. M. I'm sure you must know more about it than Miss Toovey and I do. Tell me avIio is this 119 Under the Rose. rather good-looking girl in knee-breeches with the horrid voice and the blue eyelids, and why does she walk like that ? Capt. Alch. (off his guard). Oh, that's Miss Lardie Lushboy ; it's her usual business — drinkin' song, young man about town, and all that. Mrs. M. There, you see, you know all about her! [Capt. Alciiin hastens to explain that her name is on the 'programme. Miss Lardie {sings) — See us lurch along in line, with a Btraggle serpen- tine, [She suits tlie action to the word. For we've done a heavy fuddle, and we never pass a "pub"! And if you want a proof how we chuck about our "oof- Why, come along and have a drink witli the Howdy Razzle Club ! Mrs. M. I suppose that's intended as a satire on noisy young men, isn't it, Captain Alchin ? Capt. Axch. (who hadn't thought <>f it in that light). Well— ha — that depends on how you take it, don't you know. Mrs. M. That's the way I shall take it, and then it's quite moral. (.1 I.<>n- Comedian in abroad-brimmed 120 " See us lurch along in line." Under the Rose. hat and a* rough black wig, makes Jus appearance.) This must be Walter Wildfire, I suppose. Thea, do you see ? He looks quite nice, and not really vulgar. Now he's going to sing. Isn't he too delightfully funny ! What, Frank? Not Wildfire? Mr. Alf Kedbeak. Are you sure ? I was wondering what there could possibly be in such a common little man as that to make such a fuss about. And what language ! Captain Alchin, what does he mean by saying that he was " dotted on the crust by a copper," and " went off his onion " ? Capt. Alch. (ivho foresees rocks ahead if he once undertakes to interpret). Oh, well, they're always inventin' some new slang, }'ou know, Mrs. Merridew ; no use tryin' to keep up with it. [Miss Carrie Cinders appears as a bedraggled maid of all work, and sings a doleful ditty to the effect that — " Her missis will not let her wear no feathers in her 'at, so her sojer's gone and given 'er the chuck." Mrs. M. {delighted). Isn't she refreshing — so de- liriously vulgar ! I do hope she hasn't finished. Thea, you're sitting as quiet as a little mouse in that corner. I hope you're not too dreadfully shocked ? I'm not — at least of course I am, really ; but it's not nearly so bad as I expected. 123 Under the Rose. Altiiea. Oh, I'm not in the least shocked, Cissie, thanks ; only I don't quite understand it all. Mrs. M. My dear, no more do I. I don't understand any of it — hut that makes no difference. Ai.tiika (to herself). I don't like to say so, but I am disappointed. Mr. Curphew said it would be like a Penny Reading ; but it's not a bit, it's ever so much stupider. But he never goes himself, so of course Mrs. M. It's quite a respectable audience ; I thought we should be the only people in evening dress, but we're not. I do wish they wouldn't allow quite so much smoking, though ; the atmosphere's getting something too awful. Oh, Thea, do look in that box just opposite. Can you see through that lace curtain ? Ah, you can't see now ! Althea (looking round the edge of the curtain). "Where, Cissie? — who is it? Mrs. M. Why, quite the typical British Matron — the most tremendously proper-looking person ; so if she doesn't see any harm in being here, I'm sure we needn't. I'll tell you when she pops her head out again. There, quick ! Thea, quick ! Did you see her that time ? Ai.tiika (faintly). Y — yes. I — I saw her that time. 124 Under the Rose. (To herself.) Is this a wicked conscience — or what ? It was so like Mamma ! But how could it be ? Mrs. M. Did 3 t ou ever see such a grim old frump, Thea ? I wonder what possessed her to come to a place like this ? She doesn't look as if it was amusing her much. Althea (distractedly). Doesn't she ? (To herself.) If it should be Mamma ! If she has found out in some way that we were to be here to-night and followed us ! But how could she know ? Suppose she were to see me, and — and come round and fetch me away ; how awful it would be ! But she can't see me through these curtains. I don't believe it is Mamma. I — I wish I dared look again. Oh, why did I get Cissie to bring me here ? Capt. Alch. May I borrow your opera glass for a moment, Mrs. Merridew ? Thanks awf Ty. (As he looks through it.) There's goin' to be a row in that opposite box. Your British Matron's gettin' her quills up — give you my word she is. Mrs. M. Oh, do let me see ! (She holds out her hand for the glass, which Capt. A. surrenders.) Yes, I do believe you're right. Somebody's just come in and Now there's another, a young man, and — oh, Thea ! 125 Under the Rose. Ai/rm.A (in an agony). What is it, Cissie? do tell me ! (To herself.) It must be Charles — I'm sure it's Charles. Then that's why — and it is Mamma! (Aloud.) Mayn't I have the glass ? Mrs. M. I think you had better not, dear. The British Matron has boxed the poor young man's ears — she has really. I wonder what — but well, it doesn't matter. Now she's turned him out of the box. He's coming back — alone. Yes, the old lady has certainly gone — it's all over. I'm so sorry ; it was ever so much more interesting than that big fat man who's singing ! Altiika (tremulously). Mayn't I look now, Cissie, if it's all over? (She almost snatches the glass, and directs it at the young man in Box (' — then to herself, with nlicf.) Why, it isn't Charles — it's not even Eke him. Then — oh, what a goose I've been! It wasn't Mamma either. It was all my fancy, and she had on rather the same kind of bonnet. As if Mamma would come to a music-hall and box the ears of somebody she didn't know ! But what a fright it gave me ! [She begins to feel capable of enjoying the per- formance. Col. M. (later). Now we're going to see the greal man, I lecilia. Wildfire's down to sing next. 126 Under the Rose. Capt. Alch. Don't you be too sure, Frank. They haven't put the number up yet, you see. As likely as not they'll put in an "extra turn," and he won't come at all. I've known that happen lots of times when you come on purpose to see somethin', don't you know. Mrs. M. Really, Captain Alchin, I shall begin to suspect that you are more of an authority about music- halls than your modesty would admit at first. Capt. Alch. (in some confusion). No, really now, Mrs. Merridew, all I mean is Wildfire's bringin' out a play or somethin' to-night at the Hilarity, so he mayn't be able to turn up here, don't 3 T ou see. Mrs. M. I won't have }'ou predicting evil like that ; it's not at all nice of you, and you're quite wrong too ; for there's his number in the frame now ! [27(6' scene on the Stage changes once more from an Oriental Palace to a London Street ; a bell tingles ; the Orchestra clashes into tJte air of "The Hansom Cabman," which the bulk of the audience hail with delight; then a stream of limelight is thrown on the boards, and Walter Wildfire appears. Mrs. M. {after the first verse). I don't know what it is, but there's something about him very different from 127 Under the Rose. all the others. And they Bay he writes all his own soul's and music— so clever of him! Quite a striking tare he has, rather handsome, with thai drooping moustache. Don't you think he's handsome, Thea? (Althba does not answer; Wildfire sings the last verse ; as he concludes, the house is hushed for an instant, and then breaks into a thunder of applause.) It's quite beautiful that last verse ; poor, poor fellow ! it all seemed so real, somehow ! Ah, he's not going to sing the last verse again. Vm rather glad, tor I very nearly howled, and it would he too silly to cry at a music- hall. (Interval.) Here he is again : how different he looks ! 1 suppose it's the sandwich-boards. (Wild- 1'iin: goes throiii/Ii tJic scanol x herself). Walter Wildfire ! Then it was Oh, if I had known ! Mr. T. A — a music-hall singer! He! Oh, dear, dewr me ; Imir one may he deceived in people ! Curphew. Really, Sir, this can hardly be news to you, when vou allowed me to send vou a box for the Eldorado for the express purpose of I So Under the Rose. Mrs. T. Don't deny you were sent the box, Pa, because I know better. The question is — what you wanted one at all for ? Me. T. (to himself). There's no occasion to say anything about those shares now ! (Aloud.) To be sure. I was sent a ticket, my love ; I could not help that, but (drawing himself up) it was not likely that I should compromise myself by visiting such a place, even from the best of motives, and I did not use the ticket myself, though I believe some other person did. Mrs. T. (in some distress). Well, well, never mind that now, Pa. What you have to do is to ask this Mr. Wildfire to oblige us all by walking out of this house — for ever. Curphew. I should not have stayed so long as this, only I hoped that Mr. Toovey at least would have done me the justice However, I've nothing to keep me here any longer now. [He moves toicards the door. Althea (coming forward and intercepting him). Yes, you have — you've me. Oh, do you think I'll let you go like this — now I know ? Can't you understand what a difference it makes? [Site clings to his arm. Charles. Bravo, Thea ! I always knew you were a sensible girl ! 181 Under the Rose. CuitniEw {utterly bewildered). Then you weren't — you don't ? I wonder if I can be awake ! Mrs. T. Althea, if you had the remotest conception of what a music-hall singer is, you would never Althea. I know what Mr. Curphew is, Mamma. He is a gnat artist, a genius; he can hold a mixed crowd of careless people spell-bound while he sings, make them laugh, cry, shudder, just as he chooses ; and whatever he does is all so natural and human and real, and — oh, I can't put it into proper words, but one goes away thinking better of the whole world after it — and to hear him treated as if he were some outcast — oh, I can't bear it ! [ She breaks down. Curphew (to himself). I don't care what happens now. They can't take t]iis away ! Mrs. T. Upon my word ! And pray where did you learn all this about Mr. Wildfire's performances? Althea (boldly). Where, Mamma? Why, at the Kldorado, last Saturday evening. [Sudden collapse of Mrs. Toovey. Mr. T. (electrified). A daughter of mine at the Eldorado ! Thea, my child, you can't know what you are talking about ; look at the effect on }^our poor mother ! Althea (desperately). But indeed, Papa, there was 182 id Can't you understand what a difference it makes ? " Under the Rose. no harm in it. I went with the Merridews. And — and I may be mistaken, of course, but I — I thought I saw Mamma there too ! [Sensation. Charles. Oh, I say, Thea ; aren't you coming it rather strong ? Aunt at the Eldorado ! Why, Aunt thought Uncle was there ! Mr. T. Cornelia, my love, don't pay any attention to her ; the child must be stark staring mad to say such things. It's bad enough that she should have gone ; but to think of you in such a scene ! (To Althea.) Why, it was that very Saturday evening that your dear mother went to the Zenana Meeting at Mrs. Cumberbatch's — yes, to be sure. (To Mrs. T.) You remember, my dear, how you came home so late, in a cab the driver had been smoking in, and how the moment } r ou entered the room I Mrs. T. (hastily). My dear Theophilus, I remember the circumstances perfectly, but I should not con- descend to answer so preposterous a charge ; es- pecially when it is my own daughter who brings it ! Althea (in distress). But indeed I don't, Mamma. I only fancied it might have been you, and of course, if you were at the Cumberbatches Mrs. T. (to herself). I must put a stop to this once and for all. (Aloud.) If I was at the Cumberbatches ! 185 Under the Rose. When your father has just told you I was there — really, Althea ! Did I hear wheels outside? Just look, Pa. I haven't seen my spectacles since Saturday. Mr. T. (at the window), Why, really, my love, it does seem to be a carriage, indeed. I wonder who can be calling at such a Now, it's quite a coin- cidence, truly — it's dear Mrs. Cumberbatch ! I hope she'll come in, because I really think it's a duty to warn her against employing that particular cabman again. A driver who permits himself to smoke inside his own vehicle to that extent [Mrs. Toovey makes ineffectual efforts to speak. Althea (in a whisper, to Curphew). Do look at Mamma ! You don't think she could really ? Curphew. I don't know what to think yet ; but we shall all know in a very few seconds now. [The hall-door is heard to open ; Mrs. Toovi.v attempts to rise, but has to remain in Iter scat, dumb and paralysed. 1 86 R TIGHT PLiflCE, 4-4-4- Scene XV! I. f The Drawing-room, as before. Phcebe has appeared at the door, but, observing a look of secret apprehension in her mistress's countenance, pauses maliciously before making her announcement. HCEBE (to Mrs. Toovey.) If you please, rna'am, Mrs. Cumberbatch Mrs. Toovey (in a rapid whisper). Not here, Phoebe ! Show her into the study — anywhere. Say I'll come ! Phosbe. She said she hadn't time to come in, m'm ! She left her compliments, and just called to let you know the Banana Meeting will be next Friday. And oh, if you please, m'm, I wished to ask you about that dress you wore last Saturday. I've tried everything, and I can't get the smell of tobaccer out of it, do what I will, m'm. (To herself.) That'll teach her not to accuse me of hiding followers downstairs ! 189 Under the Rose. Altiiea (to herself). Mine had to be left nil night in a thorough draught. Where could Mamma have been, unless ? Mrs. T. {with, dignity). I came home in a smoky cab, and you know perfectly well this is not the place to ask me such questions. Leave the room ! Phcebe (t<> herself, as she leaves). A smoky cab indeed! There's no smoke without fire — as Master will find out before long ! Charles. Had your cabman been giving a smoking party inside his four-wheeler, or what, Aunt? Mrs. T. I don't — yes, I believe he had. II* apologised for it; it — it was his birthday. (To her- self.) Oh, dear me, what makes me tell these dreadful stories ? Mr. T. His birthdav ! Why, if you remember, Cornelia, you said the man had been drinking. That would account for it ! But did I understand there was to be another Zenana Meeting, my love? Thai seems rather soon, does it not, after having one only Last Saturday ! Mes. T. (to herself). I must go on, or he'll sus- pect something. (Aloud, severely.) And why not, Pa — pray, why not? Von know what an energetic creature Mrs. Cumberbatch is! Can we do too much [90 Under the Rose. for those poor benighted heathen women ? And there was a great deal that we had to leave unfinished the other evening. Me. T. Dear me, and you were home so late, too ! Mrs. T. Perhaps you disbelieve my word, Pa ? If you do, say so, and I shall know what to think ! Though what I've done to deserve such suspicion Mr. T. {astounded). My own love, I never for one single moment Hem, the wife of Csesar is above suspicion. Mrs. T. (icith relief). I should hope so, Theophilus; not that you are Ccesar — but there, that is enough of a very painful subject. Let us say no more about it. Curphew {to himself). I'm more certain eveiy moment that this immaculate matron is lying like a prospectus, but what can I do ? I've no proof, and if I had, I couldn't bring myself to "Well, I must wait, that's all. Mrs. T. What / should like to know is, why Mr. Curphew still remains here after we have dis- tinctly informed him that we do not desire his further acquaintance ? Curphew. Before I go, let me say this : that I have no intention of giving up your daughter until she gives up me. I am in a position to niaiTy and support her, 191 Under the Rose. and if you refuse your consent, you will only reduce us to the painful necessity of doing without it. [Althea intimates Iter entire acquiescence in tliis ultimatum. Mrs. T. We will never consent to give our daughter to a notorious music-hall singer — never ! Curphew. That objection is easily met. I am no longer a music-hall singer. I have left the profession for ever ; not that I consider it any disgrace to belong to it, but I prefer to live by my pen in future. (To Mr. Toovey) I appeal to you, Sir. You had no ob- jection before ; what can you have now ? [Mr. Toovey opens his lips incmdibly. Mrs. T. Tell him, Pa, that in the circle in which we move, the remotest connection with — with a music-hall would be justly considered as an indelible disgrace. Charles {potto voce). No, hang it, Uncle ! It's no business of mine, and I'm not going to shove my oar in ; but still you know as well as I do that you can't decently take that line, whatever Aunt may do ! Mrs. T. 1 heard you, Charles. So, Pa, there is something you have been hiding from me? I felt positive there was some mystery about that box. Now I will know it. Althea, leave us. 192 Under the Rose. Mr. T. There is nothing she had better not hear — now, my love. It — it's true I would rather have kept it from you, but I'd better tell you — I'd better tell you. The fact is that, without being in the least aware of it — I was under the impression I was investing in a gold-mine — I — I became the pro- prietor of several shares in the Eldorado Music- hall. Curphew (surprised). You, Sir! you were a share- holder all the time ! Is it possible ? Mr. T. (bewildered). Why, but you knew/ I con- sulted you at the Junction about whether I ought to retain the shares or not, and you advised me to go and judge for myself ! Curphew. I assure you I thought we were talking about my connection with the Eldorado, not yours. Mrs. T. So, Pa, by your own stoiy you found yourself in possession of those horrible wicked shares, and you actually hesitated what to do ! You considered it necessary to — to visit the scene ! Mr. T. Indeed, I never actually went, my love. And — and Mr. Curphew assured me the establishment was quite respectably conducted, under the supervision of the London County Council ; and then there was the dividend — seventy per cent, on only five hundred O 193 Under the Rose. pounds — three hundred and fifty a year, Cornelia; it — it seemed a pity to give it up ! Mrs. T. (to herself, impressed). Three hundred and fifty a year ! Why, wo can keep our carriage on it ! {Aloud.) Well, Pa, of course — as you bought the shines under a misapprehension — and I'm bound to say this for the Eldorado, that there was nothing positively objectionable in the performance so far as / could — (correcting herself hastily) — have ever been given to understand — why, I'm the last to blame you. Me. T. (overjoyed). Ah, my dear love! I scarcely dared to hope for this leniency. But I never would have gone — oh, never. Why, I could never have looked yon in the face again if I had ! Mrs. T. (with