\
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 <t paper, which //<■ offers for Charles's
inspection.) Sou won't mind my covering up the name?
My — my friend wouldn't care for it to be seen — I'm sure.
Charles (glances <it the top of the ;«'/"/•, ami roars
with laughter). I say, Uncle, your friend must be a
jolly old juggins !
Mr. T. (miserably). I don't think be could be de-
scribed as/'n//// just now, Charles.
Charles. No, but I mean, not all there, you know
— trifle w< ;l k in the upper story.
26
" If I -were you, I wouldn't mention this to Aunt."
Under the Rose.
Mr. T. (with dignity). He never professed to be a
man of business, Charles, any more than nryself, and
his inexperience was shamefully abused — most shame-
fully !
Charles. Abused ! But look here, Uncle, do you mean
to say you don't see that this is a dividend warrant !
Mr. T. I believe that is what they call it. And —
and is he bound to send them a cheque for it at once,
Charles ?
Charles. Send them a cheque ? Great Scott !
Why it is a cheque ! They're paying him. It's the
half-yearly dividend on his five hundred, at the rate of
seventy per cent. And he was going to Oh, Lord !
Mr. T. (rising, and shaking C.'s hands with effusion).
My dear Charles; how can I thank you? If you
knew what a load you've taken off my mind ! Then
the Company isn't bankrupt — it's paying seventy per
cent. ! Why, I needn't mind telling your Aunt.
(With restored complacency.) Of course, my boy, I
have never occupied myself with Cit}- matters — but,
none the less, I believe I can trust my natural shrewd-
ness — I had a sort of instinct, Charles, from the first,
that that mine was perfectly sound. I knew I could
trust Larkins.
Charles. You, Uncle ! Then it was you who was
29
Under the Rose.
your friend all the time? Oh, you're really too rich,
you la n»\v !
Mr. T. I have never desired it; bul it will certainly
be a very useful addition to our — ah — modest Income,
Charles. But you should check yourself, my hoy, in
this — ah — immoderate laughter. There is nothing
that I can see to cause such mirth in the fact of your
Uncle's having made a fortunate investment in a gold-
mine.
Charles (as soon as he can speak). But it ain't a
mine, Uncle, it — it's the music-hall! Give you my
word it is. li' you don't believe me, look at the
address on the warrant, and you'll see it's the same as
on this programme. You're a shareholder in the
Eldorado Palace of Varieties, Piccadilly!
Mr. T. {falling back). No, Charles! I — I ac-
quired them in the most perfecl innocence !
Charles, [nnocence! I'd hack you tor that againsl
an entire Infant School, I'ncle. But I say, I must be
off now. If I were you, I wouldn't mention this to
Aunt. And look here. I'd better have you this.
i He hands h'nn tin' Eldorado programme.) It's more in
your line than mine now.
[//»- goes out, <i ml is heard chuckling in the hall
and down to the front gate.
30
Under the Rose.
Mr. T. (<done). That ribald unfeeling boy! What
a Sunday I've had ! And how am I ever to tell
Cornelia now ? (.-1 bell rings.) That's to call the
servants up to prayers. (He stuff's the programme into
his pocket hastily, and rises.) No, I can't. I can't
conduct family prayers with the knowledge that I'm a
shareholder in — in a Palace of Varieties ! I shall slip
quietly off to bed.
Phcebe (entering). Missus wished me to tell 3 T ou she
was only waiting for you, Sir.
Mr. T. Phoebe, tell your mistress I'm feeling poorly
again, and have gone to bed. (To himself.) If I
could only be sure I don't talk in my sleep !
[He shuffles upstairs.
3i
CONFESSION UJMDEI^ DIFFICULTIES,
D
+ * *
Scene IV.
An Up-Platform at Clapham
Junction.
Time — Monday afternoon.
GKPHEW (to himself, as he jxiccs up and down
with a pre-oecupied air). I ought to have been
up at the Hilarity rehearsing hours ago. Con-
sidering all that depends on that play of mine — but
there'll be time enough to pull ' Flattery ' together be-
fore Saturday. And this is the only chance I have of
seeing Althea for days. Her mother hinted last night
that she was obliged to let her travel up to Waterloo
alone, and if 1 did happen to be going up about this
time — and of course I do happen to be. I must tell
Althea ; I can't go on playing a part any longer. I
felt such a humbug last night over that confounded
Eldorado business. But if I'd revealed myself then
as " Walter Wildfire, Comedian and Vocalist," those
puritanical parents of hers would probably have both
had a fit on the floor, and have me kicked out of the
house as soon as the} r were sufficiently recovered !
d 2 35
Under the Rose.
That's the worst of becoming intimate with a serious
Evangelical family in the character of a hard-working
journalist. I ought to have undeceived them, I
suppose, but it was such a blessing to sink the shop —
and besides, I'd seen Althea. It would have been
folly to speak until — but she must know now, I'll
have no more false pretences. After nil, there's no
disgrace in being a music-hall singer. I've no reason
to be ashamed of the means by which I've got my
reputation. Ah ! but she won't understand that — the
name will be enough for her ! And I can't blame her
if she fails to see the glory of bringing whisky and
water nightly to the eyes of an enraptured audience by
singing serio-comic sentiment under limelight through
clouds of tobacco-smoke. Heaven knows /'/// sick
enough of it, and if 'Flattery ' only makes a hit, I'd cut
the profession at once. If I could only hear her say
she — there she is — at last — and alone, thank good-
ness! I wish I didn't feel so nervous — I'm not likely
to get a better opportunity. {Aloud, as h<- meets
ALTHEA.) Mrs. Toovey said I might — can I get your
ticket, or see after your luggage, <>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 Ph<ebe, who brings in
dishes and tico letters.) Oh, the post, Phcebe? It's
late this morning. (Phozbe goes out.) One for Pa,
and one for me — from Althea — it was certainly time
59
Under the Rose.
she wrote {Reading her letter.) "Delightful visit
. the Merridews so kind ... so much to
see and do . . . hack on Monday ... no
time for more at present." Not a word of where slit's
been or what she's seen — not at all the letter a girl
should write to her mother ! I wonder whom Pa's
Letter is from? (She turns it over.) What's this?
"Eldorado Palace of Varieties" printed on the flap!
Whyj that's Charles's music-hall ! Then Pa has been
making inquiries after all. As Charles's aunt I have
a right to {She is about to open the envelope.) No,
I'd better not. I hear Pa's hum — he will be sure to
tell me what they say.
Mr. T. enters [humming, to give himself >i 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.
<<!
PHOT flfiD COUfiTE^PLiOT.
Scene VII.
The Drawing-room. It is after
luncheon. Mrs. Toovey is sitting
knitting.
^[jR. TOOYEY (entering, in a frock-coat, carry-
I jL,C% i'HJ a tall hat). Er — Cornelia, my love,
*s you don't happen to know where the — the
latchkey is kept, do you ?
Mrs. T. The latchkey, Theophilus ! One has
never been required in this house yet. What can you
possibly want with a latchkey ?
Mr. T. (to himself). These performances go on
till a somewhat advanced hour, I've no doubt, and I
might feel it my duty to stay as long as (Aloud.)
I — I only thought it would save Phoebe sitting up for
me, my dear.
Mrs. T. You need not trouble yourself about that,
Theophilus. I will sit up for you, if necessary.
Mr. T. (quaking). But you forget your Zenana
Mission, my love ; you will be out yourself this
evening !
F 2 67
Under the Rose.
Mrs. T. (severely). I shall be back by a reasonable
hour, Pa, — and so will you, I should hope.
Mr. T. I hope so, my love, I'm sure, but — but I
may have a good deal to say to Charles, you know.
Mrs. T. (to hirxclj'). There's some mystery about
that wretched boy, I'm certain. If I could only find
out what was in that letter. I wonder if it's in Pa's
pocket — I'll soon see. (Aloud.) Turn round, Pa.
Ah, I thought as much; one of your coat-tail buttons
i^ as nearly off as it can be !
Mb. T. (innocently). Dear me! My Sunday coat,
too. I never observed it. Could you just fasten it on
a little more securely ?
Mrs. T. If you take off your coat. I can't do it
with you prancing about in front of me, Pa. (Mr. T.
takes off his coat.) Now, 1 can't have you in my
drawing-room in your shirt-sleeves — suppose somebody
called ! Go into your study and wait there till I've
done. (Mr. T. departs submissively.) Now if the
letter isn't in one of these pockets, it must be in
(She discovers the envelope.) There it is. Now I
shall know what Charles I'm sure his poor dear
mother would wish to be informed. (Site opens the
letter.) " Eldorado Palace of Varieties. Admit Mr.
Toovey and party to Box C. This portion to be re-
" Admit Mr. Toovey and Party to Box C
Under the Rose.
tained." (She tears off a perforated slip.) I will
retain it ! So Theophilus lias been deceiving me —
this is his business with Charles ! This is why he
kept that programme ! And he's allowing himself to
be misled by his own nephew ! They're going to this
music-hall to-night together ! He shall not go — never
while I — stop, let me think — yes, he shall go — he
shall fill up the measure of his iniquity, little dream-
ing that I have the clear proof of his deceit ! (She
thrusts the slip she lias torn off into her workbox, and
replaces the envelope with the remainder of the order in
the pocket.) There. He won't notice that anything
is missing. He's coming back. I must control my-
self, or he will be on his guard.
[She pretends to secure the button with unsteady
fingers.
Mr. T. (entering). Cornelia, my love, don't trouble
to do more than is absolutely necessary to keep the
button secure — because I'm rather in a hurry. It
doesn't matter, so long as it looks respectable !
Mrs. T. (with an effort to restrain her feelings). I
daresay it is quite respectable enough, Pa, for where
vuu are going.
Mr. T. Quite, indeed, my dear. But it would
never have done to go and call on Charles with a
71
Under the Rose.
button off the back of my coat — no, no. It was for-
tunate you noticed it in time, my love.
Mrs. T. I hope it will prove so, Theophilus. {To
herself.) And this monster of duplicity is Pa ! Oh,
I wish I could tell him what I thought of him, but not
yet — we will have our reckoning later !
Mr. T. (after putting on Ids coat). Then I think I
must be going. Any message I can take to Charles '?
Mus. T. Yes, tell him that I trust he will profit by
his good Uncle's example, and that I expect him to
dinner on Monday. T may require to have a serious
talk with him myself, if your account of this evening
is not perfectly satisfactory.
Mr. T. I'll tell him, my love, but there's no reason
to make yourself uneasy about Charles — he'll behave
himself — he'll behave himself. (To himself, as lie goes
out.) I must go and see Charles now. Oh dear, I do
feel so apprehensive about this visit to the Eldorado.
— If I could put it off. — But I can't continue to hold
those shares without some knowledge And Mr.
Curphew made such a point of my going. No, I must
go. I — I don't see how I can get out of it !
Mrs. T. (alone). There he goes, looking so meek
and lamblike ! Who would suspect, to see him, that
that black coat of his was buttoned round a whited
72
Under the Rose.
sepulchre ? Oh, Pa, Pa ! That after all these years
of blameless life you should suddenly be seized with a
depraved desire for unhallowed amusement like this !
While I am at the Cumberbatches, engaged in discuss-
ing the affairs of the Zenana Mission, you and Charles
will be Stop. How do I know he is going with
Charles at all ? If he is capable of deceiving me in
one respect, why not in all ? (She talcs out the slip
and looks at it.) Mr. Toovey and party ! What
party *? May not Pa have been leading a — a double
life all these years for anything I can tell ? He is
going to the Eldorado to-night with somebody — that's
clear. Who is it ? I shall never be eas} r till I know.
And why should I not? There's the meeting, though.
I might have a headache. Yes, that will do. (She
goes to her writing-table.) No, I won't write. I can
make some excuse to Eliza when I see her. And
instead of going to the Cumberbatches this evening, I
can easily slip up to Waterloo and ask nry wa} r to this
place. There will be no difficulty in that. Yes, I
will go, whatever it costs me. And when Pa goes
into this Box C of his, he will find his "party" is
larger than he expected !
73
RH ACQUIRED TASTE.
»h 4" J r
Scene VIII.
A prettily-furnished Drawing-room
at the Merridews' House in Hans
Place. Mrs. Merridew has a small
tea-table in front of her. Althea
is sitting on a couch close by. Both
ladies are wearing their hats, having
just returned from a drive. Mrs.
Merridew is young and attrac-
tive, and her frock is in the latest
fashion; Althea is more simply
dressed, though her hair and toilette
have evidently been supervised by
an experienced maid.
Time — About 5.30 on Saturday
afternoon.
^CY\ RS. MEKRIDEW. I don't think I've ever
I jL,Cr> 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 <i Pay-box,
where she addresses the check-taker through the pigeon-
hole.) I want to go to Box C. I've asked for it at 1
don't know how many places, and
Cheoetaeeb (politely). I'm really afraid you'll have
to ask again, Ma'am. This is the Promenade. Box-
office next entrance.
1 06
Under the Rose.
Mrs. T. (to herself, indignantly). I only hope they
make it as difficult for other people to get in as they do
for me ! So Pa comes here to lounge and promenade,
does he ? Oh, let me only catch him, I'll send him
promenading ! (She goes to the Box-office.) I want Box
C, wherever that is.
Book-Keeper. Can give you Box D, if you like.
Box C is reserved for this evening.
Mrs. T. (sharply). I am quite aware of that. For
Mr. Theophilus Toovey. I have come to join him
here.
Book-K. {referring to book). It is entered in that
name, certainly ; hut — hem — may I ask if you belong
to Mr. Toovey's party ?
Mrs. T. (crushingly) . No doubt you consider that
his wife has no claim to Most certainly I belong
to his party.
Book-K. That is quite sufficient, Madam. (To
Attendant.) Show this lady to Box C. (To himself, as
Mrs. T. follows the Attendant up some velvet-covered
stairs.) Well, it's no business of mine; but if Mr.
Toovey, whoever he is, isn't careful what he's about,
he in ay be sorry for it — that's all !
Mrs. T. (to herself). They never even asked for my
ticket. Pa's evidently well known here ! (To Attendant.)
107
Under the Rose.
A programme ? with pictures of dancing girls all over
it ! You ought to be ashamed to offer such things to
a respectable woman !
Att. (surprised). I've never heard them objected to
before, Ma'am. Can I bring you any refreshments ?
(Persuasively.) Bottle-ale or stout? Lemonade and
brandy ? Whisky and soda ?
Mrs. T. Don't imagine you can tempt me,
man. I've been a total abstainer ever since I was
five !
Att. {opening box-door). Indeed, Ma'am. I suppose
now you 'aven't mistook this for Exeter 'All ? — because
it ain't !
Mrs. T. I am in no danger of making that mistake !
(Slie enters the box.) I am here before Pa after all.
What a gaudy, wicked, glaring place to be sure! Ugh,
this Jiltliji tobacco ! it chokes me, and I can scarcely
see across the hall. Not that I want to see. Well, if
I sit in the corner behind the curtain I shan't be seen
myself. To think that I — J — should be here at all,
but the responsibility is on Pa's head, not mine !
What aic those two girls singing about on the stage ?
They arc dressed decently enough, I'll say that for
them, though pinafores and baby bonnets at their age
are ridiculous. [She listens.
108
Under the Rose.
The Sisters Sarcenet (on stage). You men are
deceivers and awfully sly. Oh, you are !
Male Portion of Audience (as is expected from
them). No we aren't!
The Sisters S. (archly). Now you know you are !
You come home with the milk ; should your poor
wife ask why,
" Pressing business, my pet ! " you serenely reply,
When you've really been out on the " Tiddle-y-hi ! "
Yes, you have!
Male Audience (as before). No, we've not !
The Sisters S. (with the air of accusing angels).
"Why, you knoiv you have !
Mrs. T. (to herself). It's to those young women's
credit that they have the courage to come here and
denounce the men to their faces — like this. And it's
gone home to them, too! they're shouting out "Over!"
(Here the Sisters suddenly turn a couple of "cart-wheels"
with surprising simultaneity, amidst roars of applause.)
Oh, the shameless minxes ! I will not sit and look on
at such scandalous exhibitions. (She moves to the
corner nearest the stage, and turns her back upon the
proceedings^) How much longer will Pa compel me to
assist at such scenes, I wonder ? IVJiy doesn't he
come ? "Where is he now ? (Bitterly.) No doubt on
109
Under the Rose.
what those vulgar wretches would call the "Tiddle-
y-hi !" (The Brothers Bimbo, Eccentric Clowns, appear
on the stage.) I can't sit here in a corner looking at
nothing. It' I do sec anything improper, Theophilus
shall answer for it. {She changes her 'place ar/aiii.)
Acrobats — well, they're inoffensive at least. Oh, I do
believe one of the nasty things is climbing up to the
balcmy; he's going to walk along here !
First Brother Bimbo (on stage, tu hi* confrere, who is
balancing himself on the broad ledge of the box tie?-).
Ohe — 'old up, there. I'rennv ganh-! Ah, il tombera !
There, I told yer so ! (The Skcond Brother B. has
reached the front of 'Mrs. Toovey's 60a;, where he pretends
to stumble.) Oh, le pover garcong, look at 'im now!
Come back, do ! Ask the lady to ketch 'old of your
trousers be'ind !
Mrs. T. (to the Second Brother, firmly). Don't
expect me to do anything of the smt. Go back, as your
brother asks you to, you silly fellow. You shouldn't
attempt such a foolhardy thing at all !
Second Bb. B. (to the First). Oh, my ! There's
such a nice young lady in here: she's asking me to
come in and Bel along with her! May T?
[ //-■ lets himself drop astride the ledge, and wags
his head at Mrs. Toovet, to herintense horror.
no
Goo'bye, ducky!"
Under the Rose.
Mrs. T. (in an audible undertone). If you don't
take away that leg at once, I'll pinch, it !
Second Br. B. Eh ? Not now ; my brother says
I mustn't. " Come round afterwards?" Well, well,
we'll see ! (He springs up on the ledge again, and lasses
his hand to her.) Goo'bye, ducky ! 'Ave no fears for me,
Whoo-up !
[He continues Ids tour of the balcony, amidst roars
of laughter.
Mrs. T. (falling back in the box, speechless with fury).
And this is the treatment Pa exposes me to — all those
unmanly wretches laughing at me ! But I don't care ;
here I stay till Pa comes. Oh, this smoke; I shall be
poisoned by it soon ! Upon my word, there's a bold
hussy coming on to sing, in a man's coat and black
satin knee-breeches. I'll stop my ears ; the} r shall see
there's one woman here who respects herself ! (She does
so, during that and the subsequent performances ; an
hour passes.) How much longer am I to be compelled
to remain here ? This is terrible ; three creatures in
tight red suits, got up to look like devils ! I wonder
they've no fear of being struck dead on the stage !
They're standing on each other's stomachs. I daren't
look on at such blasphemy ! I'll take off 1113- spectacles;
then, at least, my eyes won't be offended by seeing
I 113
Under the Rose.
anything distinctly ! (She removes her glasses, and
r&places than in their case, which she lays on the box-
ledge.) They're gone, thank goodness. What's this ?
There's someone opening the box-door. Pa — at last !
"Well, I'm ready for him !
[She stiffens in her chair.
Attendant's Voice (outside). This is Box C, Miss.
Can I bring you any refreshments? Bottle-ale, stout,
lemonade, Miss ?
A Female Voice. I — I don't know. There's a
gentleman with me ; he'll be here directly ; he only
stopped to speak to somebody. Ah, he's coming now.
Mrs. T. " Miss " ? ! This is Pa's party, then. Oh !!
[A quietly d/ressed, and decidedly good-looking girl
enters, and starts on seeing that tlie box is
already occupied.
Mrs. T. (rising in towering wrath). You were not
expecting to find me here, Miss, I've no doubt?
The Girl (sitting down). No ; Phi] didn't say there
would be anyone else; but any friend of his, I'm
sure
Mrs. T. Phil ? you dare to call him " Phil ! " Do
you know who 1 am, you insolent girl, you? I am his
Wife !
The Girl. His wife ? I don't believe it. Are you
114
Under the Rose.
sure } T ou don't mean his mother ? My Phil married to
you, indeed — a pretty story !
Mrs. T. (trembling with rage). Go out of this box
instantly, or I'll make you !
The Girl. I shall do nothing of the kind. Wait
till my friend comes, and we'll soon — (As the door
opens.) Phil, Phil, here's an abusive old female here who
pretends she is your wife, and wants to order me out.
I believe she must either be intoxicated or out of her
senses !
Mrs. T. (pouncing upon the newcomer and boxing his
ears soundly). Is she ? it is you who are out of your
senses, Pa ! Take that — and that— and now come
home with me, do you hear ?
The Newcomer (with his hand to his cheek). " Pa,'
am I ? I thought I was your husband just now ! Well,
I must have married before I was born, either way.
And now, perhaps, you'll explain what all this means ?
Mrs. T. (faintly). Oh, my goodness ! I've made a
dreadful mistake ; it isn't Pa ! Let me go — let me go !
The Newc. (putting his back against the door). Not
yet, Ma'am ; not yet. You don't go like this ; after
insulting this young lady, to whom I've the honour of
being engaged, and telling her you're my wife, and
then smacking my face in her presence. I've my
12 115
Under the Rose.
dignity to consider, and I want satisfaction out of you.
Come, we won't have a row here, for the sake of this
young lady ; just step out into the lobby here, and I'll
give you in charge for assault. Stay where j T ou are,
Milly, my dear. Now, Ma'am, will you go, or shall I
send for a constable ? (Mrs. T. totters out, protesting
incoherently, and begging to be released.) Well, I don't
want to spoil my evening's pleasure on your account.
You give me your name and address, and I'll simply
summon you for assault ; which is more than you
deserve. If you won't, I'll charge you !
Mrs. T. (reluctantly). Oh, indeed it was an ace
I will not give you my name. Yes, yes, I will ; any-
thing to get out of this horrible place. (The young
man produces a pencil, and putts down his left shirt-
cuff.) Mrs. — Too — no, I don't mean Too — Tomkinson
Jones — The the — Laburnums — 1 " — upper Toot-
ing. There, now are vou satisfied?
The Yorxo Man (recording it). Thank you, Hint's
all 7 require. You'll hear from me later on. Good-
evening !
Mrs. T. (as she crawls down the staircase). I have
only just saved myself by a — a fib! And I haven't
even found Pa out. But 1 will. I'll g<> 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<m<j iritJi the small child ;
in the midst of the second stanza he suddenly falters,
and only recovers himself by a violent effort; Althea
has bent forward out of the shadow of the curtain.) [t's
too frightfully pathetic; he's such a dear, isn't he?
{The applause is man' rapturous than ever; an encore
it clamoured for; Wildfire reappears looking ghastly
pale, 'i ml makes a mute plea for indulgence; after he
has finally retired, the clamour still continues, until the
scene and the number are shifted.) He won't sing any
more — how sad! Wasn't he charming with that child?
', /// an un lertone.) Why, Althea, darling!
[28
Under the Rose.
Althea (in a shaken voice). D — don't speak to me
just yet, Cissie. I know it's very foolish of me ; but
I can't bear it.
Capt. Alch. (to himself). Gad, I'd give sometbin
to sing like that Johnny, and make her eyes shine like
that !
Mrs. M. Frank, we may as well go now, there's
nothing else worth staying for, and I'm sure this
horrid tobacco is ruining my poor pearls ; or would
you rather stay a little longer, Thea ?
Althea. Oh, no, no ; I don't want to hear anybody
else — after that. (To herself, as Capt. A. helps her
on with her cloak.) And that is the man Mr. Curphew
said nothing would induce him to go and see ! And I
actually persuaded myself that — But I am wiser now.
He can never be anything to me !
[She leaves the box with her party.
K 129
R PYI*Hf4lC VICTOHV.
K 2
+
4
Scene XII.
"Behind" at the Eldorado. The
Stage at the back of the Scene-
cloth Is in partial darkness; in
the centre, a pile of lumber and
properties. Bare white-washed brick
walls J at one side, two canvas
cabins for the Lady - Artistes to
change their costumes ; near them
a deal table, with a jug and
glasses. At one of the wings,
behind the proscenium, a shelf and
small mirror, at which the Come-
dians can arrange their make-up,
and a frame, in which a placard,
with each A rt 'isle's number, is inserted
before his or her entrance. A
"turn" has just been concluded,
and the Stage is clear.
Time — about 10 p.m.
HE STAGE -MANAGER {hustling up to Foot-
man in crimson plush breeches). Now then,
look alive, there, can't you, they're getting
impatient in front. Why don't you change the
number ?
133
Under the Rose.
Footman (with aggrieved dignity). Because, Sir, Mr.
Alt' Redbeak ought to come on, by rights, and, not
'aving chosen to appear yet, I think you'll see your-
self, on reflection, as it would be totally
Stage-M. AVell, don't argue about it ; here's Miss
Lushboy ready to go on, put her number up !
Footman. I always understood it was the regulation
'ere that no number was to be put up until the band-
parts were passed into the orchestra; which Miss
Lushboy's music most certainly has not been handed
in yet, and, that bein' so
Stage-M. You can spare a good yard off that
tongue of yours, you can ; put Miss Lushboy's
number up, and Ah, here comes Mr. Redbeak ;
never mind.
[Enter Mr. Redbeak, breathless.
Mi:. Redbeak Phew ! I've had a job to get 'eiv in
time, I can tell you. (The Orchestra strikes up.)
'Ullo, that ain't mine. (To Footman.) What are you
about? Put up my number — sharp, now !
Miss Lushbot (to Footman). Here, let me go on;
I've been missing about long enough. "What are you
taking my number out for?
Footm. Now, look 'ere, Miss, I can't please every-
body ! {Indicating Stage-Manager.) You are as
134
Under the Rose.
well aware as what I am that it's for him to give the
word 'ere, not me. I'm on'y actin' under what
Mr. Redb. It's crule, you know, that's what it is —
crule. I've got to go right across London for nry next
turn, and
The Stage-M. {returning). "What the blazes are we
waiting for now ? Alf, dear boy, you should come up
to time. (To Footman.) Why don't you do as you're
told ? You're getting too big for your boots, it strikes
me ! (To Miss Lushboy.) There, go on, my dear, go on.
[Miss L. bounds on to the stage, and begins
her song.
Mb. Eedb. (to Footman). I've got a bone to pick
with you, old feller. Don't you go wool-gatherin' to-
night, as you did last. I've told you till I'm tired that
when you see me chuck this property pie-crust into the
wings you've got to throw down these fire-irons — it's a
safe laugh every time it comes off, and you know 'ow
important it is, and yet you forget it nine times out
of ten ! What's the good of me thinkin' out bits o'
business like that when you go and crab 'em for
me?
Footm. (pathetically). Mr. Eedbeak, Sir, you'll
excuse me, but I'm on'y one man 'ere, I ain't a
'undred. Don't thank 'eaven for it, Sir, it's 'ard
135
Under the Rose.
when a man as tries to do his best, and with all my
responsibilities on him
Mu. Ixedb. (impiiticntli/). Oh, cheese it; you're not
on a stool in 'Ide Park, arc you ? I'm only tellin* you.
Miss L. {on stage, singing chorus).
Say, boys, say, if you'd like to come. Who's for
a merry old " Tiddley-um ? "
Fall in behind, and we'll all get "blind," before
they close the pub !
You're not jays, so you won't refuse. Join our
band, for we're on the booze,
And you'll see some larks with the rollicking
sparks of the Rowdy Bazzle Club !
{Here she capers off, brandishing a gibus, and has a
difficulty in opening the practical!, ■ door hi the wing.
To Footman.) There you are again .' How often am
I to tell you to keep that wood open for my dance off?
I break my fingers over it every blessed night, and
lose my encore as well !
Footm. I'm exceedingly sorry, Miss, but the fact of
the matter is my attention was took off at the time
owing to
Miss L. Oh, hold your jaw, do.
Footm. (to himself). I'm to hold my jaw! Oh,
these hartistes, they lead me a dorg's life among em !
136
Under the Rose.
Mr. Rede, (touching Miss L.'s coat as she passes).
What's that badge you're wearing? Salvation Army,
Temperance, Primrose League, or what ?
Miss L. No, only the colours of the Balls Pond
Football Team ; they presented them to me the other
day. I told them I didn't play football.
Me. Redb. You're pretty fair at the 'igh kick
though, ain't you ? There, there. 'Alf time. Goin'
on again?
Miss L. With a cold like mine ? Not likely. Just
look at my tongue ! (She protrudes the tip of an indigo-
coloured tongue for Ids insjyeetion.)
Mr. Eedb. (concerned). Why, it's like one o' those
chow-chow dogs, I'm blest if it isn't ! You arc off
colour to-night, no mistake !
Miss L. Oh, that's the remedy, not the disease —
liquorice, you know.
Stage -M. Now, Alf, if you're in such a hurry, go
on. Cut it as short as you like — no extra turns to-
night.
Mr. Redb. No fear. Oh dear, oh dear, such a rush
as it is ! [He goes on grumbling.
A Small Boy (who lias been sitting patiently on a
chair by the whig — to Stage-Manager). If you please,
Sir, will Mr. Wildfire want me to-night ?
137
Under the Rose.
.Miss L. Want you, indeed, you silly kid! What
would Mr. Wildfire wanl a shrimp like you for?
The Boy. If he's going to do the Sandwich Man 'ere
to-night, he'll want me, / know. Why, it all depends
on me, that song does. (To Stage-M.) Is he going
to do the Sandwich Man to-night, Sir?
Stage-M. Oh, don't bother me ; wait till he conns
and you'll find out. (To Miss L.) I suppose you've
heard he's talking of not renewing his engagement
after to-night — giving up the halls altogether !
Miss L. And no great loss either! I don't see
anything particular about his songs myself. As for
all that gas about his raising the tone of the halls, it's
sickening. Anyone would suppose we lowered it!
Mrss Carrie Cinders (coming out of a dressing-cabin,
in a battered old velvet hat and broken feathers, with Iter
face sm udged). Who's that you're talking about?
"Wildfire? Ah, my dear, this 'Jgh Art and Littery
rot '11 be the ruiD of the 'alls — him and his articles in
the swell magazines, praising us all up — he can keep
his praises to himself — / don't want 'em ! I've never
set up to refine the public myself, or else I could fake
it easy enough ! [She jmsscs on to stage.
Mr. Gus Tadman {Variety Vocalist). We could all
do it, come to that. But there, he won't last, you'll
138
SILENCE
7// //' \
"It's like singing to a lot of 'ap'ny ices!"
Under the Rose.
see. Why, look at the 'it I made with my " Rorty
Naughty Nell " ! That was a good song if you like,
and well- written, mind yer. But lor, it's clean for-
gotten now. I 'ear Wildfire's bringing out a play to-
night at the Hilarity, it'll serve him right if it gets the
bird, going back on his own profession like that !
(To Miss Cinders, who has just sung.) House cold
to-night ?
Miss Cinders (in a temper). Cold! it's like singing
to a lot of 'ap'ny ices ! I used to have the choruses
all sung for me when I brought out that song first ;
and now they've let me go off without a 'and ! We
shall see whether they'll rise to Wildfire to-night.
Ah, here he is. Actually coming up to speak to us ;
there's an honour !
Miss Betsy Beno (to Wildfire, as he passes the
table where she is sitting waiting for her turn). 'Ere,
Watty, old man, stop and 'ave a drop along of me.
Do — there's plenty 'ere ! (as Wildfire excuses himself
laughingly). Well, I'm sure — refusing to drink when
a lady goes out of her way to ask him — he hasn't the
manners of a pig ! And I draw my sixty quid a week
the same as he does !
Mr. Tadman. Well, dear boy, how's the play going
on ? Not a frost, I hope ?
141
Under the Rose.
Wildfire. No ; I just looked in on my way from
the Val. here, and they seemed to think it was all
right; but I couldn't stay till the finish. They're
going to send round and let me know. (To the Small
Boy, who has approached anxiously.) Oh, there you
are, youngster ! Yes, I shall want you — for the last
time, you know.
The Boy. Why, you — you ain't going to take the
part away from me, Sir, when I created it, too!
Wildfire (patting liis shoulder kindly). I'm giving
up singing altogether — that's why. Never mind;
I'll see it makes no difference to you, so don't dis-
tress yourself. We'll find you something or other to do.
The Boy (with a gulp). If I ain't going to be with
you any more, I — I don't care what 'appens, Sir. I'd
as soon throw up the perfession myself, I would !
[He turns away into a dark corner.
Wildfire (to himself, as he goes to the wing). Nice boy
that; didn't think he'd care so much ; must keep an eye
on him. ' Flattery' must be over now. I wish I could
have stayed to see it out; it was going magnificently ;
but there were some rather risky scent 3 ahead. Still,
I believe it's a success ; and, if it is, I shall have done
with all this for ever alter to-night. I can go to
AJthea and tell her, without By Jove ! wasn't it
142
Under the Rose.
to-night that old Toovey was to be in front ? I
wonder what he'll think of it. (He looks at himself in
the mirror.) He'll have some difficulty in recognising
me in this get up. Well, I shall know on Monday.
(He goes on, and sings ; then rushes hack to the icing to
change his costume, with the assistance of his dresser.)
Yes, the coat now, dresser, please. (To himself, as
he paints some lines on his face.) I couldn't see any-
one at all like old Toovey. Very odd ! They must
have sent him the box, I suppose. Well, it doesn't
matter ; if he didn't think it necessary to come, so
much the better. (Aloud.) Wig-paste, please. Now
the boards. All right — I'm ready. (To the Boy.)
Now, youngster, look out for your cue. [He goes on.
The Limelight Man (up in the flies — to himself).
What's wrong with Mr. Wildfire? He as nearly broke
down just now as and I can't keep the limelight on
him nohow to-night ! He can't have been drinking —
he ain't that sort. But he do look bad — it's as much
as ever he can do to go through with it ; somethink's
given him a turn.
Wildfire (to himself, as he goes hack to the icing,
unsteadily). She's here — and, what's worse, she's re-
cognised me ! She must have, or she would never
have looked like that. If I could only have told her
143
Under the Rose.
first; but, to discover it like this — she'll think I meant
to {lie pitches away his boards vn a fury.) Well,
I've done for myself — it's all over ! (To his dresser.)
A note, eh ?
[He opens it, and reads the contents mechanically ;
Mr. Tadman and one or two other artistes
come up with curiosity on seeing his expression.
Tadm. Why, Wildfire, old man, what's this? Play
gone wrong? Never mind, dear boy, we can't have
everything. But what's the report, eh ?
Wildfire (impatiently). Oh, I don't know. What
does it matter now? (He lets the note fall.) There,
you can read it if you want to know. [He walks away.
Tadm. (with complacency). Poor chap, he's hard
hit! But I could have told him it wasn't to be
expected that (//<■ picks up the note, and reads it
with a falling jaw.) Hullo! "What's the meaning of
this ? It says the piece is a tremendous go — safe for
a long run — had to raise the rag again and again.
Why, he'll make his fortune over this alone ; and yet,
look at him! (Pointing to Wildfire, who lias seated
himself on the pile of lumber, in utter dejection.) And
all those fools in front clapping and stamping for him
to come on again. "What more does the feller want, I
wonder !
144
TJiH Bite^ BIT.
4* 4 4-
Scene XI ! 1
The Study at Hornbeam Lodge.
It is about ii'30 on Saturday
evening; Mr. Toovey is sitting
alone by the fire, which he has just,
after much difficulty, succeeded in
rescuing from extinction.
^V^\R. TOOVEY (to himself). There, it's begin-
IJLc, ning to burn up again now. Oh, the
*s inestimable blessing of having nothing
on one's mind again ! How providential that I found
Larkins in ! He was a little unsympathetic at first,
to be sure ; he would have it that I must have known
all along what the Eldorado really was ! but as
soon as he saw how strongly I felt about it, he was
most helpful. I could not have gone to that place this
evening ; how could I have met Cornelia's eye after it?
As it is, I can face her without Surely she is
later than usual from this Zenana meeting ! (Wheels
L 2 147
Under the Rose.
are heard outside.) A cab ? I do hope nothing is the
matter ! Why, that sounds like — like a latch-key!
Can it be — ah ! — a dispute with the cabman — it must
be Cornelia ! [The front door hangs.
A Voice (in earnest remonstrance through the key-
hole). 'Ere, I say, you don't sneak oft' like that, you
know ! I knowed you was no good the minnit I
clapped eyes on you ! Are you going to gimme my
legal fare or not ? I ain't goin' till I git it. I want
another shellin' orf o' you, I do !
Mr. T. (to himself). Another shilling? Why, it's
under a mile ! He little knows my wife's principles if
he expects
The Voice. You orter be ashimed o* yourself ! A
lydy like you to tyke a man orf his rank at this toime
o' night, all the w'y from (The front door is
hastily unlocked again.) Thankee, mum, thankee; lor,
I only want what's my doo, and the distance 'ere from
[The door shuts with a hang.
Mb. T. She's given him the extra shilling — she can't
be well ! I'm afraid she's really poorly. She's gone
into the drawing-room, but there are no lights there.
She'll be here directly. [He sits up expectantly.
Mns. T. (to herself, in the ludl). Just as I expected.
Theophilus not home yet ! I shall sit up for him in
148
Under the Rose.
the study. (She opens the study door, and starts.) So
there you are, Pa ! And pray when did you come in ?
Mr. T. [mildly). Yes, my love, here I am; I've
been in a long while, quite a long while.
Mrs. T. (to herself). And he imagines I believe
that ! (Aloud.) I understood you intended to spend
the evening with Charles.
Mr. T. So I did, my dear, so I did. I went to his
rooms.
Mrs. T. And you went out somewhere together,
Pa ? Come, you won't deny that !
Mr. T. (to himself). "What a mercy I didn't go to
that Eldorado ! I should have had to tell her !
(Aloud.) Why, you see we — we didn't go anywhere.
I found Charles was engaged to dine with a friend, so
I went away again.
Mrs. T. (to herself). A very likely story ! "Where
has Theophilus learnt such brazen duplicity ?
(Aloud.) Oh ! and then of course you came straight
home ?
Mr. T. Why, no, my love ; not immediately. I —
I suddenly recollected that I had to see a friend on —
on a little matter of business which was — hem — some-
what pressing, so I went there first of all.
Mrs. T. (to herself, contemptuously). Exactly the
149
Under the Rose.
excuse in all those horrid songs! {Aloud.) And the
business kepi you rather late, eh, Pa ? Some business
is apt to do so, I know !
Mb. T. (to himself). She makes me almost feel as if
I'd gone after all ! (Aloud.) I teas a little late, my
dear, not so very. I suppose I must have been home
between eight and nine, and Phoebe brought me up
some nice cold mutton and the apple-tart, so I did very
well, very well indeed.
Mrs. T. (to herself). If he is deceiving me, I can
soon find out from the look of the joint and tart !
Mr. T. By the way, my love, surely you are rather
late this evening, are you not ? it's nearly twelve !
Mrs. T. (to herself, with a start). Oh, but I will not
fib unless he forces me to. (Aloud.) I — I was de-
tained later than I expected.
Mr. T. And you didn't expect to be back so very
early either, for you took the latchkey, didn't you?
MBS. T. I happened to find it, Pa, and I thought I
might as well use it — and why not?
Mr. T. It was most thoughtful of you, my love, to
think of saving Phcebe. By the way, do you notice
? (Tie looks round him suspiciously.) Ah, well,
it may be my fancy. And you had a successful meet-
in.;- ? Were there many interesting speeches ?
150
Under the Rose.
Mrs. T. {choking). As — as interesting as usual,
Theophilus ! {To herself.) I'm sure that's true
enough !
Mr. T. And supper provided afterwards, I suppose?
Which accounts for your being late. Dear — dear
me ! [His face grows troubled again.
Mrs. T. Is there any reason why there shouldn't be
supper afterwards, Pa ?
Mr. T. Not in that house. Our dear friends the
Cumberbatches do everything on such a truly hospit-
able scale. Now, most people in their position would
have considered tea and coffee and sandwiches quite
sufficient. Was it a hot supper, my love ?
Mrs. T. {desperately). Yes — no — rather hot — I
didn't notice. You ask such preposterous questions,
Theophilus !
Mr. T. I didn't mean to, my dear. I was just a
little surprised, do you know, at your taking a cab
for such a short distance. I thought you might have
felt unwell ; but perhaps dear Mrs. Cumberbatch
insisted
Mrs. T. Why, of course, Pa ; you know how kind
and considerate she is ; otherwise I should never have
dreamed of
Mr. T. Just what I thought, my love. But wasn't
151
Under the Rose.
the cabman rather uncivil ? I wonder you gave way to
him — unless, of course, he was drunk.
Mns. T. He ivas — disgracefully drunk, Pa ; if you
heard so much, you must have noticed that ; and how
you could sit quietly here and never think of coming to
my assistance ! Ah, it is hardly for you to reproach
me for submitting to his extortion !
Mr. T. Indeed, my love, I'd no idea — you are gener-
ally so very firm with cabmen that {Changing the
subject.) By-the-bye, I don't know if you noticed a
note for you lying on the hall table ? It must have
come after you left. It looked to me wonderfully like
dear Mrs. Cumberbatch's writing, but what could she
have to write about when she would be seeing you
directly ? Did she allude to it at all ?
Mrs. T. From Eliza Cumberbatch ? No ; at least,
she — I'll go and get it. (She goes into the hall and
finds the note.) Good gracious, it is Eliza's hand !
(Site reads it hv/rriedly under the h all-la nq).) "Just a
line. Zenana meeting postponed at last moment.
Will let you know when another day fixed." Well, it
will save me the trouble of writing to her ; but, oh
dear, the stories I've been telling Pa ! But he's as
bad — I know he's as bad !
Mr. T. (as Mrs. T. returns). So you found the
152
Under the Rose.
note, Cornelia, and what does Mrs. Cuniberbatch
say?
Mrs. T. {putting the note in the fire). It — it was only
from — from my dressmaker. (To herself.) He drives
me to this !
Mr. T. (again uneasy). Do you know, Cornelia, I — I
may be wrong, but I've a very strong suspicion that
Mrs. T. (in terror). Pa, speak out ! In — in the
name of Heaven, what is it you suspect ?
Mr. T. It's getting stronger every moment. I'm
sure of it. My love, there's a strange man downstairs
in the kitchen !
Mrs. T. (with a gasp of relief). A man ! Oh, this
must be seen into at once ! (*S7*<? rings the hell furi-
ously ; presently Phoebe appears, evidently only half-
aivake.) Phcebe, what does this mean ? I insist on
the truth !
Phcebe. I'm very sorry, m'm, but I'd no idea you
was home, and I was sitting up for you downstairs,
and I expect I must have dropped asleep, and never
heard you come in.
Mrs. T. Don't attempt to deceive me ! You are
entertaining a man downstairs, contrary to all my
orders. Yes, it's useless to deny it, your master has
distinctly heard sounds.
153
Under the Rose.
Mr. T. No, my love, I can't exactly say as much as
that — but — yes, every time the door opens it's more
perceptible ! (He sniffs.) Don't you observe your-
self, my dear, a remarkably strong odour of tobacco-
smoke ? Now, as I never have been a smoker myself,
it stands to reason that
[Mrs. Toovey suddenly sits down, scarlet.
Piicebe (roused). I'm sure if you and master suspect
me of concealing followers downstairs, you're welcome
to search as much as you please ! Cook's gone up to
bed hours ago, and for a poor girl to be kep' up to this
time o' night, and then have her character took away
— why, I'm not accustomed to such treatment, and,
what's more, put up with it I won't!
Mrs.' T. (to herself, guiltily). It's that filthy smoke
at the Eldorado ! (Aloud.) Theophilus, how can you
have such ridiculous fancies ? Tobacco, indeed ! I
— / don't notice anything. Phoebe, it was a mistake
of your master's ; I don't blame you in the least.
There, you've sat up long enough, go to bed, go,
girl!
Phoebe. Beggin' your pardon, m'm, but insinuations
have been descended to which I can't pass over in a
hurry, and before I go I should wish
Mrs. T. (fevcrisJdy). I tell you it was all a mistake.
154
Mrs. Toovey suddenly sits down, scarlet.
Under the Rose.
Your master will apologise for it. Pa, say you're
sony !
Phcebe. I don't require no apologies from master,
m'm. I can make allowances for him — more partickler
as there's no mistake about there being a smell of
tobaccer-smoke. I don't wonder at anyone noticing
it. It's your sending for me like this, and trying to
shift the blame on the innercent, when all the
time
Mes. T. (to herself). This is too intolerable !
(Aloud.) Haven't I said I didn't blame you, you
unreasonable girl ! Let us have no more of this
impertinence ! Leave us !
Phcebe. I will, m'm, as soon as ever you can get
suited, for, to tell you the truth, I don't like such
goings on as these ; and I'll take care I get a
good character, too, or I'll know the reason why !
(As she closes the door.) And I 'ope master will
satisfy himself where the smell of tobacco redly does
come from, I'm sure ; it isn't from downstairs !
[She vanishes, leaving Mrs. T. petrified.
Mr. T. You see, my love, it couldn't have been all
my fancy, because Phcebe noticed it too. Dear me, it's
dreadfully late ; I'd better go and see that everything
is locked up. (As he jwsses Mrs. T.) It's very extra-
157
Under the Rose.
ordinary. Surely they don't allow any of the mission-
aries to smoke at these Zenana meetings, my love —
do they ?
Mrs. T. Of course they don't. I — I am at a loss to
understand you, Theophilus, and — and I am going to
bed.
Mr. T. No, hut really Why, I sec how it was!
Depend upon it, my dear, that cabman must have been
sitting inside the vehicle smoking, with the windows
up, before you got in. Yes, yes ; that accounts for
everything.
Mrs. T. (faintly). Do you think so, Theophilus? I
— I remember noticing a smell of cigars.
Mr. T. (as he goes out). My poor dear love, what a
trial for you ; and you never complained ! Now, when
I see dear Mrs. Cumberbatch at church to-morrow, I
must really caution her not to employ that cabman
again — she may have taken his number, and he really
ought to lose his licence — drunk, and smoking inside
his cab ! Oh, I shall tell her ! [He goes out.
Mrs. T. (alone). Pa shall not go to church to-
morrow. I will take care of that, and by the time lie
sees Eliza again he will have forgotten all about it. Is
he doing all this to cover all his own misdoings? I
can't rest till I know ! 1 will make Charles tell me on
i 5 3
Under the Rose.
Monday. But what if Pa is blameless ? No, he must
have been doing something he oughtn't to. It would
be too horrible if it turned out that I — I am the only
person who has been (she catches her breath zvith a
shudder) " hi-tiddley-ing," as those vulgar wretches
would call it ! There's only one comfort that I can
see : nobody here is ever likely to know, unless I
choose to betray myself. Oh dear ! oh dear ! I wish I
could forget this awful evening !
[She ascends the stairs with a heavy and dispirited
tread.
159
R NEUi DEVELOPmE^T,
M
*
*
Scene XIV.
The Drawi?ig-room at Hornbeam
Lodge. It is about six d clock on
Monday evening; Althea is list-
lessly striking chords o?i the piano j
Mrs. Toovey is sitting by one of the
windows.
-fY") RS. TOOVEY (to herself). Where did Theo-
I JLu, philus go last Saturday ? He is either the
^ most consummate hypocrite, or the most
blameless lamb that ever breathed ; and I'm sure /
don't know which ! But I'll find out when Charles
comes. It would be almost a relief to find Pa was
guilty ; for, if he isn't But, thank goodness, he
is not very likely ever to hear where / was that
evening !
Althea (to herself). It couldn't really have been
Mamma in that box ; she has never made the slightest
reference to it. I almost wish she had been there ; it
would have been easier to tell her. What woidd she
M 2 163
Under the Rose.
say it' sin 1 knew I had gone to such a place as the
Eldorado?
[She drifts, half mi consciously, into the air of
" The 1 lansom Cabman."
Mrs. T. What is that tune you are playing, Thea?
Althea (flushing). N — nothing, Mamma. Only a
tune I heard when I was in town. The — the boys in
the street whistle it.
Mrs. T. Then it's hardly fit to be played upon my
piano. I shouldn't wonder if it came out of one of
those abominable music-halls !
Althea (to herself). She must mean something by
that. If she was there after all ! (Aloud, distressed.)
Mamma, what makes you say that ? Do — do you
know ?
Mrs. T. (in equal confusion). Know! Explain
yourself, child. How could I possibly ? (To
herself). I shall betray myself if I am not more
careful !
Althea. 1 — I thought — I don't know — it was the
way you said it. (To herself). I very nearly did for
myself that time !
Mrs. T. (as Althea strikes more chords). For good-
ness' Bake, Thea, either play a proper piece, or shut
up the piano and take up some useful work. There's
164
Under the Rose.
the crazy-quilt I've begun for the Bazaar ; you might
get on with that.
Althea (closing the piano). The colours are so
frightful, Mamma !
Mrs. T. What does that signify, my dear? When
it's for a charity ! Really, I'm beginning to think
this visit to town has not had at all a good effect upon
you. You've come back unable to settle down to any-
thing. Yes, I see a great change in you, Althea, and
it's not confined to the worldly way you do your hair.
I sincerely hope it will not strike Mr. Curphew as it
does me. You know he is dining here this evening ?
I told him in my note that if he liked to come a little
earlier (Significantly.) I think he has something
to say to you, Thea. Perhaps you can guess what ?
Althea (twisting her hands nervously). Oh no,
Mamma. I — I can't see Mr. Curphew — not alone, I
mean.
Mrs. T. Don't be ridiculous, my dear. You know
perfectly well that he admires you. He has very
properly spoken first to your father, and we both
consider you a most fortunate girl. He is a truly
excellent young man, which is the first consideration ;
and, what is even more important, he is, as far as I
can gather, making an excellent income. And you
165
Under the Rose.
can't deny that you were interested in him fcom the
\ rv first.
Althea. N — not in that way, Mamma. At least,
not any longer.
Mrs. T. Nonsense. If Mr. Curphew proposes, I
shall be seriously annoyed if you put him off with any
foolish shilly-shallying. Mind that. And here he is
— -at least, it's somebody at the front door. I've mis-
laid my glasses as usual. And if it is Mr. Curphew, 1
shall send him in here at once; so remember what
I've said. {She goes out into the hall, and discovers
her nephew Charles.) So it is you, Charles!
You're rather earlier than I expected.
Charles. Nothing much doing at the office, Aunt.
And 1 thought 1 might have to dress for dinner, you
know.
Mrs. T. You ought to know by this time that we
are plain people and do not follow the senseless
fashion of dressing ourselves up for a family dinner,
hut I am glad you came early, all the same, Charles,
as I should like a little talk with you before your
Uncle comes in. We had better go into the study.
{To herself s as she leads the way.) Now 1 shall get it
out of him !
1 66
IN TflE STUDY.
4* 4- 4*
Scene XV.
In the Study.
^Y^RS. TOOVEY {fixing Charles with her
I ^Lo» e V e )' What is this I hear of your proceed-
*-^ ings last Saturday night, Charles ? Come,
you can't deceive me, you know !
Charles. I never made any secret about my pro-
ceedings. I told Uncle we might probably drop into
the Eldorado or somewhere after dinner.
Mrs. T. (to herself, in consternation). The Eldorado?
They did go there then ! If only they didn't see me !
(Aloud.) Yes, Charles, go on. And while you were
there, did you see anyone you — you thought you
recognised ?
Chaeles (to himself). She's heard ! (Aloud.) I
should rather think I did, Aunt. Never was more
surprised in my life.
Mrs. T. (with a groan). And — and was your Uncle
surprised, too, Charles?
Charles. Uncle ? I haven't told him yet.
Mrs. T. But he was there, Charles, with you; he
must have seen — whatever you did ! Or didn't he ?
169
Under the Rose.
Charles. At the Valhalla ? my dear Aunt!
Mrs. T Who's talking about a Valhalla ? [mean
ihc Eldorado, of course ; that was where you said you
went !
Chaules. No — no, we couldn't get in at the EL;
all the stalls gone, so we went to the Val. instead.
Just the same sort of thing.
Mrs. T. (to herself, relieved). To the Val. ! What a
fright I've had for nothing ! (Aloud.) I quite under-
stand, Charles. You took your Uncle to a place
called the Val., not the — er — El. What did you see
there ? that's the point !
Charles. I didn't take Uncle there ; I was with a
man from our office when I saw him. I must have
seen him there often enough, hut somehow I never
spotted him before. It was the make-up, the disguise,
you know, wig and moustache, and all that.
Mrs. T. Do you mean to say your Uncle attends
music-halls disguised in a wig and moustache ?
( lharles, who was he with ? I will know !
Charles (in Jits of laughter). Uncle? At the Val.
in disguise '? now, is it likely ? I thought you
knew all about it, or I shouldn't have said a
word !
Mrs. T. You have said too much to stop now,
170
"Dear, dear me!"
Under the Rose.
Charles. It is useless to try to turn it off like that.
If it was not Pa you recognised at this Val. place, who
ivas it ?
Charles (to himself). If I don't tell her she'll only
go on suspecting poor old Uncle Theo. (Aloud.) Well,
you're bound to find it out sooner or later ; and I ad-
mire him all the more for it myself. I'd no idea he had
it in him. Shows how mistaken you may be in fellows.
Mrs. T. I've yet to learn who and what you are
talking about, Charles !
Charles. Why, that quiet, modest friend of yours,
Mr. Clarence Curphew, if you must know !
Mrs. T. I don't believe it. Mr. Curphew is not at
all the sort of young man to spend his money in such
resorts.
Charles. He don't spend it there — he makes it.
My dear Aunt, you ought to feel honoured by having
such a distinguished acquaintance. Don't you re-
member my mentioning the great music-hall star,
Walter Wildfire ? You must. Well, Clarence Cur-
phew and Walter Wildfire are one and the same
person — honour bright, they are !
Mrs. T. (sinking hack with a gasp). A — a music-
hall star ! And I have been urging Althea to
Oh, how fortunate it is I have been warned in time !
173
Under the Rose.
lie shall not see her — I will write and put him off —
at once ! [Mr. Tooyey enters blandly.
Mr. T. Ah, Charles, my boy, so here you are ?
that's right, that's right. You, too, Cornelia? {To
her, in an undertone.) It's all right, my love — our
dear young friend, Mr. Curphew, you know — we met
on the doorstep just now, and I've left him and Thea
together in the drawing-room. I thought it was
best, eh '? [lie looks to her for approval.
Mrs. T. You've left But there, I might have
known ! No, don't speak to me, Pa — there's no time
to lose ! Conic with me, Charles, I may want you.
[She rustles out of the room, followed by Charles.
Mr. T. (looking after her in mild jxrjilevify). Dear,
dear me ! I wonder what can be the matter now.
Cornelia seems so very I hardly like to go and
see — and yet, perhaps, 1 ought — perhaps I ought.
There's one comfort, whatever it is, it can't have any-
thing to do with that dreadful Eldorado. Yes, I'd
better go and look into it ! [He goes out.
174
A ^HVOliTHMG DRVGfLTHH.
* *
Scene XVI.
The Drawing-room at Hornbeam
Lodge. Curphew and Althea are
standing at some distance from one
another, in evident constraint.
/"VUKPHEW (sadly). It's only what I expected,
\l / and yet — tell me this — is it entirely because of
«-/ — of what you saw at the Eldorado last
Saturday ?
Althea. Ah, you know, then ! but what does it
matter now ? I was mistaken — isn't that enough ?
Curphew. Don't judge me by what you saw of
Walter Wildfire. I can do better things than that. I
can make you forget him — forget that he ever existed,
if only you will trust me !
Althea (indignantly). Do you really suppose that
he — that I — oh, it's too insulting ! And you will do
no good by disparaging him. The man who could
write those songs, and sing them like that
Curphew (wincing). Don't ! I know how they
N 177
I 'ndcr the Rose.
must have struck you. I would have prepared you, if
I could. I did try — that afternoop at the station, hut
I was interrupted. And now it's too late, and the
harm's done. But at least you'll never see Walter
Wildfire again !
Altiika (exasperated). Have I ever said that I
wanted to? Why will you persist in talking as if ?
Once for all, I can't care for ) r ou ; whatever I may
have thought once, I know now that T can have no
sympathy with the sort of life you lead ; the pleasures
you are content with would not satisfy me; I should
want more than you could ever give me. \Ye should
have nothing in common — nothing There, now
do you understand ?
Curphew. Yes, I think I do. I suppose it's
natural, and yet — don't think too hardly of me if you
can help it. I might have chosen a higher walk than
I did, hut at least I've kept out of the mire, and now
at last I see my way to But that wouldn't
interest you. There, I had better say good-bye J you
won't refuse to give me your hand at parting, will you ?
[As he takes her hand, Mrs. Toovei enters with
Charles, and stands transfixed.
Mrs. T. Althea, don't tell me I'm too late! You
have no1 accepted that man '?
178
Under the Rose.
Cukphew (releasing Althea's hand). On the con-
trary, I have just had my dismissal, Mrs. Toovey ; we
were merely saying good-bye.
Mrs. T. Thank Heaven ! but I knew I could trust
my daughter to detect instinctively the designing
serpent in wolf's clothing — (correcting herself angrily)
— the sheep in dove's plumage, I should sa}\
Charles (sotto voce). Similes are cheap to-day !
Mrs. T. (more angrily still). Well, I know what I
mean, and so does he ! (Mr. Toovey enters.) And
how a person with Mr. Curphew's antecedents could
ever had have the face to thrust himself into such a
household as this
Mr. T. (coining forward). Cornelia, my love ! Such
language to our dear young friend ! Surely, surely,
there must be some sad mistake !
Mrs. T. There has been indeed, Pa, and so you
will say when you hear who and what he realty is !
Curphew. Mr. Toovey has been quite aware of it
for the last week, and was kind enough to say he saw
no insuperable objection.
Mrs. T. Pa, is this true ? You knew who Mr.
Curphew was, and never told me !
Mr. T. My dear, I've no more notion who he is, if
he's not Mr. Curphew, than a babe un
N 2 179
Under the Rose.
Curphew. But surely, Sir, you forget our conversa-
tion at Clapham Junction this day week? You
certainly knew everything then. I thought your
nephew had probably
Charles. I'd no idea of it myself till last Saturday,
so it couldn't have been me!
Althea {impudently). No idea of what? Who is
Mr. Curphew, Papa ?
Curphew (to her, in astonishment). But you know !
surely you know? What else have we been talking
about ?
Mn. T. (helplessly). I think we might try to be a
little more clear, all of us. I do indeed. I'm in a
perfect fog myself.
Mrs. T. Then, Pa, let me inform you that } t ou have
been encouraging the acquaintance of a person who
gains his living by singing ribald songs at music-halls
under the name of Walter Wildfire !
Althea (t<> 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 <i twinge). That depends, Pa; it is
quite possible to go to such places, and yet
Mr. T. Yes, but you see I did/n't go, my dear.
I found I couldn't really bring myself to visit it when
it came to the point, so I went to call on Larkins
instead, as it was on his advice I had taken the shares,
and I told him my difficulty, and he quite sympathised
with my scruples, and most good-naturedly offered to
take them off my hands.
Mrs. T. But surely, Theophilus, you never gave
194
Under the Rose.
up three hundred and fifty a year without so much
as consulting Me !
Charles. You can't count on such dividends as a
certainty, you know, Aunt, and I've no doubt Uncle
got rid of them at a very good figure ; they've been
going up like sky-rockets !
Mrs. T. (mollified). Of course if your Uncle did
that, I
Mr. T. Well, you see, my love, Charles very
properly pointed out to me that there was no moral
difference between that and keeping the shares, and —
and Larkins took the same view himself; so (I'm
sure, Cornelia, you will consider I have only done
what was my strict duty !) I agreed to surrender the
shares for just what I paid for them — five hundred
pounds — and so my conscience is clear.
Mrs. T. If it's no clearer than your head, Pa
I never heard of such downright Quixotism !
As if you could be held responsible ; as if anyone here
need know ! I call it folly — sheer ruinous folly !
Phoebe (opening the door — to Mr. T.). A young
gentleman to see you, Sir ; says he comes from Mr.
Larkins, with a paper to be filled up. I've shown
him into the study, Sir.
Mr. T. Ah, to be sure, yes ; tell him I'll come. (To
O 2 195
Under the Rose.
Mrs. Toovey) It's about those shares ; Larkins said he
would send a clerk down to complete the transfer.
Mrs. T. So it isn't complete sd yet? Mr. Larkins
has been trying to get the better of you, Pa ; but
it's not too late, fortunately. (To Piicebe.) Show the
young man in here. / wish to see him about this
business. (As Phosbe goes.) I shall insist on the fair
market value of the shares being paid before you put
your signature to any document whatever ; leave this
entirely to me, Pa. I think I shall be a match
for any young
Phcebe (returning.) Mr. Jannaway.
Me. Jannaway (to Mr. Toovey). From Air. Larkins,
Sir. Brought a transfer-deed for your signature.
Mrs. T. (to herself). Gracious goodness ! It's the
man whose ears I boxed at the Eldorado ! What shall
I do ?
[She seizes the current number of " The Quiver"
and retires behind it.
Ai.tiii'.a (toherself). Be's awfully like the young man
in that box on Saturday! If Mamma really was there!
(Slic (/lances at Mrs. Toovey, in whose hands "The
Quiver''' is rustling audibly.) Ah, then I wasn't mis-
taken. Oh, how dreadful if he should recognise
lur!
196
j
11 The last place I expected to find you in ! "
Under the Rose.
Me. T. My signature ? Yes, yes, yes, to be sure,
just so : but the fact is, I — I've been thinking over
the matter, and — and — but that lady by the window
will explain my views.
Mrs. T. (in a muffled voice, from behind " The
Quiver"). I — I shall do nothing of the sort. I — I'm
busy. Sign whatever the young man wants, Pa, and
don't bother me about it !
Mr. Jann. (to himself). That's rum. Where have
I heard that voice '? And " Pa," too ! Very rum !
Mr. T. Oh, very well, my love ; I only thought
— but I'll sign, I'll sign. Only, I rather fancy you're
sitting just in front of the writing materials, my dear.
Mr. Jann. {gallantly). Allow me ! (lie (joes towards
Mrs. Toovey's chair. " The Quiver' 1 treacherously col-
lapses at the critical moment; their eyes meet.) Well,
Ma'am, this is the last place I expected to find you in ;
after 'unting for you the entire Sunday afternoon all
over Upper Tooting, too !
[General sensation. Tableau.
199
CI^CUmSTfij4TIflIi EVIDENCE,
* + *
Scene XVI II.
The Drawing-room. Mrs. Toovey
is still rcgardi7ig Mr. Jannaway,
after the manner of an elderly bird
in the presence of a young and
somewhat inexperienced serpent.
^^V"\R. TOOVEY (coming to the rescue). Excuse
^L£, me, young Sir, but I don't think you quite
S realise who that lady is. (With mild self-
assertion.) She is my wife, Sir, my Wife ! And
she is not accustomed to being hunted all over Upper
Tooting, or anywhere else !
Mr. Jannaway (to himself). I've got this dear lady
on toast, I can see ! But I mustn't do anything
ungentlemanly or I may get the sack if the governor
gets to hear of it. (Aloud.) If I'm mistaken I'm
ready to apologise ; but the lady bears such a really
remarkable likeness to a Mrs. Tomkinson Jones,
residing (so she gave me to understand) at The
Laburnums, Upper Tooting, that
203
Under the Rose.
Mrs. T. (finding her voice). I do not reside at
Upper Tooting !
Mb. Jann. (in silky tones). Precisely so, Madam.
No more does Mrs. — hem — Tomkinson Jones !
Charles. And is that the only point of resemblance
If 'tween your friend Mrs. Jones and my Aunt, eh?
Mr. Jann. That's a matter of opinion, Sir. ['ve my
own. But neither the lady nor yet myself are particu-
larly likely to forget our meeting. It was only last
Saturday evening, too !
Mb. T. Why, then you must have met Mrs. Toovey
at the Zenana Mission Conference ?
Mb. Jann. Well, that isn't the name I know it by ;
but if the lady prefers it, why
Mrs. T. (hoarsely). I — I deny having ever met the
young man before, anywhere : that is, I — I don't
remember doing so. Take him away !
Mb. Jaxx. I should be most averse, of course, to
contradicting a lady, but 1 can only conclude thai she
is so much in the 'abil offetching unoilending strangers
what I may venture to term, if you'll permit the
vulgarity, a slap in the jaw, that such a trifling cir-
cumstance makes no impression on her. It did
on me !
Mr. T. (outraged). Young man ! are you endeavour-
204
Under the Rose.
ing to suggest that my wife goes about — er — ad-
ministering " slaps in the jaw " to perfect strangers
at Zenana meetings ?
Me. Jann. Pardon me, I said nothing whatever about
an)' — er — Pyjama meetings. I don't know what may
go on there, I'm sure. The incident I alluded to
occurred at the Eldorado music-hall.
Mrs. T. (to herself). There ; it's out at last ! What
have I done to deserve this ?
Charles (to himself). The Eldorado ! Why, Thea
sa id What can Aunt have been up to? She's
got herself into the very deuce of a hole !
[Curphew and Althea exchange significant glances.
Mr. T. At the Eldorado? Now, do you know
that's very singular — that really is very singular
indeed ! You're the second person who fancied
Mrs. Toovey was there last Saturday evening ! So
that you see there must have been a lady there most
extraordinarily like my wife !
Mrs. T. (to herself). Dear, good, simple Pa; he
believes in me ! After all, I've only to deny every-
thing ; he can't -prove I was there ! (Aloud.) Yes,
Sir, and on a mere resemblance like that } r ou have the
audacity to bring these shameful charges against me —
me ! All you have succeeded in establishing is that
205
Under the Rose.
you were in tlic music-hall yourself, and I doubt
whether your employer would approve of a clerk of bis
spending his time in such places, if it came to
his ears !
Mr. Jann. It's very kind of you to concern yourself
on my account, Madam ; but there's no occasion. It
was Mr. Larkins himself gave me the ticket; so I'm
not at all uneasy.
Mr. T. "Why, dear me, that must have been the
ticket Mr. Curphew — I should say, Mr. Walter Wild-
fire — sent me. I remember I left it with Mr. Larkins
in case he could find a use for it. So you were in my
box ; quite a coincidence, really !
Mr. Jann. As you say, Sir, and not the only one
neither, seeing that
Mrs. T. Pa, isn't it time this young man finished
the business he came about, and went away ? I am
not accustomed to seeing my drawing-room made use
of as an office !
Mr. T. (snatching up the transfer). By all means.
my love. (To Mr. Jannaway.) Er, I really think we
should be more comfortable in the study. There —
there's a bigger inkstand.
[He leads the way to the door.
Mi:. Jann. (following). As you please, Sir. (Turn-
206
Under the Rose.
ing at the door.) I must say I think I've been most
cruelly misunderstood. If I've been anxious for the
pleasure of meeting Mrs. Tomkinson Jones again, any
revengeful motives or lowness of that description was
far from my thoughts, my sole object being to restore
a piece of property which the lady, whoever she may
have been, left behind her, and which, as I 'appen to
have brought it with me, would, if recognised, settle
any question of identity on the spot. But that can
wait for the present. Business first, pleasure after-
wards !
[He goes out. A silence. Presently a succession
of violent sniff's proceed from behind " The
Quiver." All rise in concern.
Charles. I say, Aunt, you're not going to give way
now, are you ? That fellow hasn't frightened you ?
Althea (kneeling down and embracing Mrs. Toovey.)
Dearest mamma, don't you think you'd better tell us
all about it '? It was you who slapped that horrid
little man's face — now, wasn't it? And serve him
right !
Mrs. T. (in a hirst). I took him for your father!
Oh, what have I said ? I never meant to admit
anything ! And what must you all think of me ?
Curphew. No one who has had the benefit of your
207
Under the Rose.
opinions of music-halls or their entertainers can
possibly imagine you went to one with any idea of
amusing yourself, Mrs. Toovey.
Mrs. T. (without herding him). And Pa, what will
he say? When I think of all the wicked stories I've
had to tell that poor dear man! And alter he once
finds them out, there's an end of all his respect for
me, all my influence over him, all my power in this
house — everything! Why, for anything / can tell, Pa
may actually believe I went to that detestable place on
what (to Cukphew) I suppose your friends would call
the— the (utterly breaking down) Tee-hiddle-dy-hi !
Charles (after a highly suspicious jit of choking).
Don't think there's any danger of that, Aunt; but
look here, how if I went into the study and kicked
that little cad out, eh ?
Mrs. T. And have the whole affair in the police
n ports ! Fow're a pretty solicitor, Charles! But Pa
knows by now, and oh, what in the world am I to do?
ChaELES. Well, my dear Aunt, it sounds an immoral
suggestion, but, as you seem to have given Uncle a —
l K . m — slightly picturesque version of your doings last
Saturday, hadn't you better stick to it ?
Mbs. T. What's the use? DidnM you hear that
wretch say he'd found something in the box? It's my
208
Under the Rose.
spectacles, Charles ; a pair in a Rob Roy tartan case,
which Pa gave me himself, and couldn't help recog-
nising ! I remember now, I left them there, and
{The door opens.) They're coming back !
Mr. T. {entering). That's really a very honest young
fellow, my love, nothing will satisfy him but bringing
in the article he's found, and seeing whether it belongs
to you or not.
Mrs. T. (breathlessly). And have you seen it, Pa —
have you seen it ?
Mr. T. Not yet, clear love, not yet. He's getting it
out of his great coat in the hall.
Curphew {starting up from behind Althea). I
think, if you will allow me, I '11 go and speak to him
first. It strikes me that I may know the lady who
was in that box, and I'm naturally anxious to avoid
any [He goes out.
209
CliimBlflG DOUXH-
Scene XIX.
The same ; a few minutes later.
CHARLES occupies ALTHEA in conver-
sation; Mr. TOOVEY moons about
the room, humming feebly, and
casting anxious glances from time
to time at his wife, whose expression
as she resumes the study of " The
Quiver" appears to him to indicate
that lie is still under the ban of her
displeasure.
^V^ES. TOOVEY (to herself, in a fever). Why
I JLc, doesn't he come back? What are those
^ two plotting together ? Oh, if Mr. Wildfire
imagines he will get a hold over me, so as to obtain
my consent to I'd sooner tell Pa everything !
(To Curphew, who re-enters, smiling.) W — where is —
the other ?
Curphew. The other? Oh, he's gone. Imade myself
Under the Rose.
known to him; and you would have been surprised, my
dear Mrs. Toovey, at the immense effect my profes-
sional name had upon him. "When he realised I was
Walter "Wildfire he was willing to do anything for me,
and so I easily got him to entrust his find to me.
Mr. T. (inquisitively). And what is it — a fan, or fl
glove ? There would be no harm in showing it to as,
eh?
( Iurphew. Well, really, it's so very unlikely to com-
promise anybody that I almost think I might. Y« 3,
there can't be any objection.
[lie takes something out of his pocket, and presents
it to Mr. Toovey.
Mb. T. (mystified) . "Why, it's only a hairpin !
What a scrupulously honest young man that is, to be
sure !
Mrs. T. (relieved). Only a hairpin"? (Then, uneasily,
to Curphew, in an undertone.) Where is — you know
what? Have you kept it to use for your own
advantage ?
Curphew (in the same tone). I am a very bad
man, I know; but I don't blackmail. You will find it
behind the card-basket in the hall.
[Mrs. Toovey goes out ,• Althea draws Curphew
aside.
214
So you've found your spectacles !
T "
Under the Rose.
Althea. Clarence, I — I must know; how did you
come to have a — a hairpin '? where did it come from ?
(As he softly touches the back of her head.) Oh ! it was
mine, then ? What a goose I am !
Mr. T. (as Mrs. Toovey returns). Why, Cornelia,
my love, so you've found your spectacles ! Now where
did vou leave them tltis time, my dear, eh ?
Mrs. T. Where I shall not leave them again in a
hurry, Theophilus !
Mr. T. Don't you be too sure of that, my love. By
the way, Mr. Curphew, that lady of your acquaintance
— you know, the one who made all this disturbance at
the Eldorado — is she at all like Mrs. Toovey, now ?
Curphew (after reflection). Well, really, there is a
resemblance — at a distance !
Mr. T. (peevishly). Then it's annoying — very annoy-
ing ; because it might compromise my poor dear wife,
you know. I — I wish you could give her a quiet hint
to — to avoid such places in future !
Curphew. Do you know, Sir, I really think it will be
quite unnecessary. [Phcebe enters to announce dinner.
Mr. T. Dinner, eh ? Yes, yes, dinner, to be sure.
Mr. Curphew, will you take in my dau (correcting
himself) — oh, but, dear me, I was quite forgetting
that— h'm !
Q 217
Under the Rose.
Cubphew. that Mrs. Toovey has been express-
ing an anient impatience to close your doors on me
tor ever ?
Mrs. T. (not over graciously). That was befor<
I mean that — considering the manner in which we all
of us seem to have been more or less mixed up with
the music-hall of late — we can't afford to he too
particular. If Mr. Wildfire chooses to stay, he will
find as warm a welcome as — (with a gulp) — he can
expect !
Curi'hew. Many thanks, but I'm sure you see that I
can't stay here on sufferance. If I do Btay it must be
as
Mrs. T. As one of the family ! (She chokes.) That
— that's understood, of course. (To herself*) They
know too much !
Mi;. T. (to Mrs. T., chirpihf,ns the other* precede
them in to dinner). Do you know, my love, I'd no more
idea you would ever have Well, well, it might
have been worse, I daresay. But we must never let it
get out about the music-hall, eh '?
Mrs. T. Well, Pa, Vm not very likely to allude to it!
THE END,
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