The Master of Mrs. Chilvers: An Improbable Comedy. Jerome Klapka Jerome

enters. She is in outdoor costume. She kisses Phoebe, shakes hands with the other two. Annys’s age is about twenty-five. She is a beautiful, spiritual-looking creature, tall and graceful, with a manner that is at the same time appealing and commanding. Her voice is soft and caressing, but capable of expressing all the emotions. Her likeness to her younger sister Phoebe is of the slightest: the colouring is the same, and the eyes that can flash, but there the similarity ends. She is simply but well dressed. Her soft hair makes a quiet but wonderfully effective frame to her face.)

      Annys. (She is taking off her outdoor things.) Hope I’m not late. I had to look in at Caxton House. Why are we holding it here?

      Phoebe. Mamma’s instructions. Can’t tell you anything more except that I gather the matter’s important, and is to be kept secret.

      Annys. Mamma isn’t here, is she?

      Phoebe. (Shakes her head.) Reaches St. Pancras at two-forty. (Looks at her watch.) Train’s late, I expect.

(Hake has entered.)

      Annys. (She hands Hake her hat and coat.) Have something ready in case Lady Mogton hasn’t lunched. Is your master in?

      Hake. A messenger came for him soon after you left, ma’am. I was to tell you he would most likely be dining at the House.

      Annys. Thank you.

(Hake goes out.)

      Annys. (To Elizabeth.) I so want you to meet Geoffrey. He’ll alter your opinion of men.

      Elizabeth. My opinion of men has been altered once or twice – each time for the worse.

      Annys. Why do you dislike men?

      Elizabeth. (With a short laugh.) Why does the slave dislike the slave-owner?

      Phoebe. Oh, come off the perch. You spend five thousand a year provided for you by a husband that you only see on Sundays. We’d all be slaves at that price.

      Elizabeth. The chains have always been stretched for the few. My sympathies are with my class.

      Annys. But men like Geoffrey – men who are devoting their whole time and energy to furthering our cause; what can you have to say against them?

      Elizabeth. Simply that they don’t know what they’re doing. The French Revolution was nursed in the salons of the French nobility. When the true meaning of the woman’s movement is understood we shall have to get on without the male sympathiser.

(A pause.)

      Annys. What do you understand is the true meaning of the woman’s movement?

      Elizabeth. The dragging down of man from his position of supremacy. What else can it mean?

      Annys. Something much better. The lifting up of woman to be his partner.

      Elizabeth. My dear Annys, the men who to-day are advocating votes for women are doing so in the hope of securing obedient supporters for their own political schemes. In New Zealand the working man brings his female relations in a van to the poll, and sees to it that they vote in accordance with his orders. When man once grasps the fact that woman is not going to be his henchman, but his rival, men and women will face one another as enemies.

      (The door opens. Hake announces Lady Mogton and Dorian St. Herbert. Lady Mogton is a large, strong-featured woman, with a naturally loud voice. She is dressed with studied carelessness. Dorian St. Herbert, K.C., is a tall, thin man, about thirty. He is elegantly, almost dandily dressed.)

      Annys. (Kissing her mother.) Have you had lunch?

      Lady Mogton. In the train.

      Phoebe. (Who has also kissed her mother and shaken hands with St. Herbert.) We are all here except Villiers. She’s coming. Did you have a good meeting?

      Lady Mogton. Fairly. Some young fool had chained himself to a pillar and thrown the key out of window.

      Phoebe. What did you do?

      Lady Mogton. Tied a sack over his head and left him there.

      (She turns aside for a moment to talk to St. Herbert, who has taken some papers from his despatch-box.)

      Annys. (To Elizabeth.) We must finish out our talk some other time. You are quite wrong.

      Elizabeth. Perhaps.

      Lady Mogton. We had better begin. I have only got half an hour.

      Janet. I saw Mrs. Villiers. She promised she’d come.

      Lady Mogton. You should have told her we were going to be photographed. Then she’d have been punctual. (She has taken her seat at the table. St. Herbert at her right.) Better put another chair in case she does turn up.

      Janet. (Does so.) Shall I take any notes?

      Lady Mogton. No. (To Annys.) Give instructions that we are not to be interrupted for anything.

(Annys rings bell.)

      St. Herbert. (He turns to Phoebe, on his right.) Have you heard the latest?

      There was an old man of Hong Kong,

      Whose language was terribly strong.

      (Enter Hake. He brings a bottle and glass, which he places.)

      Annys. Oh, Hake, please, don’t let us be interrupted for anything. If Mrs. Mountcalm-Villiers comes, show her up. But nobody else.

      Hake. Yes, ma’am.

(Hake goes out.)

      St. Herbert. (Continuing.)

      It wasn’t the words

      That frightened the birds,

      ’Twas the ’orrible double-entendre.

      Lady Mogton. (Who has sat waiting in grim silence.) Have you finished?

      St. Herbert. Quite finished.

      Lady Mogton. Thank you. (She raps for silence.) You will understand, please, all, that this is a private meeting of the Council. Nothing that transpires is to be allowed to leak out. (There is a murmur.) Silence, please, for Mr. St. Herbert.

      St. Herbert. Before we begin, I should like to remind you, ladies, that you are, all of you, persons mentally deficient —

      (The door opens. Mrs. Mountcalm-Villiers enters, announced by Hake. She is a showily-dressed, flamboyant lady.)

      Mrs. Mountcalm-Villiers. I am so sorry. I have only just this minute – (She catches sight of St. Herbert.) You naughty creature, why weren’t you at my meeting last night? The Rajah came with both his wives. We’ve elected them, all three, honorary members.

      Lady Mogton. Do you mind sitting down?

      Mrs. Mountcalm-Villiers. Here, dear? (She takes the vacant chair.) So nice of you. I read about your meeting. What a clever idea!

      Lady Mogton. (Cuts her short.) Yes. We are here to consider a very important matter. By way of commencement Mr. St. Herbert has just reminded us that in the eye of the law all women are imbeciles.

      Mrs. Mountcalm-Villiers. I know, dear. Isn’t it shocking?

      St. Herbert. Deplorable; but of course not your fault. I mention it because of its importance to the present matter. Under Clause A of the Act for the Better Regulation, &c., &c., all persons “mentally deficient” are debarred from becoming members of Parliament. The classification has been held to include idiots, infants, and women.

(An interruption. Lady Mogton hammers.)

      Bearing this carefully in mind, we proceed. (He refers to his notes.) Two years ago a bye-election took place for the South-west division of Belfast.

      Mrs. Mountcalm-Villiers. My dear, may I? It has just occurred to me. Why do we