The Benefit of the Doubt; a Comedy in Three Acts. Arthur Wing Pinero

certain what we ought to put on.

      Mrs. Emptage.

      I considered half-mourning rather a happy thought.

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      To my mind, it looks as if you had deliberately prepared for all emergencies.

      Mrs. Emptage.

      [Rising, in a flutter.] ’Tina, pin some flowers in your dress at once! I’ll get Bristow to stick a bit of relief about me somewhere. And I’ll wear some more rings——

      [She goes out. Justina selects some cut flowers from a vase on the pianoforte.

      Justina.

      Oh, Kit, we were dreadfully in the dumps. Bless you for bullying us!

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      [Taking a pin from her hat.] Come here.

      Justina.

      [Going to Mrs. Twelves.] By Jove, though! it would have been too rough on us if—if—wouldn’t it?

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      [Attaching the flowers to the bodice of Justina’s dress.] Pray complete your sentence.

      Justina.

      Well—if Mrs. Allingham had made out her case against Jack Allingham and Theo.

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      For shame, ’Tina!

      Justina.

      Oh, you’re awfully prudish all of a sudden, Kate. You’ve very soon forgotten—— Mind that pin!

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      What are you saying?

      Justina.

      I mean, it isn’t as if we hadn’t all been just a leetle rapid in our time, we three girls—Theo, you, and I. You needn’t be quite so newly-married-womanish with me.

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      Shut up!

      Justina.

      [Glancing round.] No one’s there.

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      [In an undertone.] We always knew where to draw the line, I hope.

      Justina.

      Of course we did. Only, when you’re married, as Theo is, to a cold, dry mummy of a man like Alexander Fraser, the line’s apt to get drawn rather zigzag.

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      [Finishing with the flowers.] Go away!

      Justina.

      Thanks—they’re jolly. [Picking up a little mirror from the table, and making a wry face at herself.] I haven’t had a night’s sound sleep for weeks.

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      I should think not, with such thoughts in your head. Poor Theo! I’ve been fretting about her too, in a different way.

      Justina.

      [Adjusting the flowers with the aid of the mirror.] Yes, but it isn’t only Theo. I’ve been doing a bit of lying-awake on my own account, I can tell you.

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      Why?

      Justina.

      [Moistening her eyelashes as she again surveys her face.] Why, if this business had gone against my sister, it wouldn’t have bettered my chances—eh?

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      No, perhaps it wouldn’t.

      Justina.

      I’m twenty—oh, you know——

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      Nine.

      Justina.

      Ugh, dash it, yes! And this beastly scrape of Theophila’s has been no end of a shocker for me. From to-day I turn over the proverbial new leaf.

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      So glad, dear.

      Justina.

      Just fancy! I’m the only single one out of we three musketeers. Great Scot, Kate, suppose I got left!

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      [With a laugh.] ’Tina!

      Justina.

      But I won’t, you mark me! From to-day I’ll alter—I take my oath I will! No more slang for me, no more swears, no more smokes with the men after dinner, no more cycling at the club in knickers! I’ve been giving too much away——!

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      [Listening.] Take care!

      Justina.

      [Glancing round.] Claude—back.

      Claude Emptage, a plain, stumpy, altogether insignificant young man enters—a young man with a pale face, red eyelids and nostrils, a dense look, and heavy, depressed manner.

      Justina.

      What news? Any?

      Claude.

      It’s finished.

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      Finished!

      Justina.

      Don’t tell me! How?

      Claude.

      It’s all right for Theo. Mrs. Allingham’s petition dismissed.

      Justina.

      Ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha! All right for Theo! [Clapping her hands, almost dancing. Mrs. Twelves embraces her.] All right for Theo!

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      Isn’t it splendid?

      Justina.

      Ha, ha, ha! All right for——! Mother! ma! ma!

      [She runs out.

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      [To Claude.] You did wait then, in spite of Theo’s orders?

      Claude.

      No, not in Court. I hung about outside, with Uncle Fletcher, to hear the result. [Sitting, with a little groan.] Oh!

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      I must say, Claude, the victory hasn’t left you very cheerful.

      Claude.

      Cheerful! Think of the day I’ve spent!

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      You’ve spent!

      Claude.

      Theophila’s brother! [Pointing into space.] The brother of Mrs. Fraser of Locheen! The brother of the witness in the box! Every eye upon me!

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      [Drily.] I see.

      Claude.

      Oh, Kate, I’ve felt this business in more ways than one. It has been a terrible lesson to me.

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      [Smiling.] My poor Claudio!

      Claude.

      [Not looking at her.] No, don’t pity me—despise me. Kitty, how easy it is for a fellow to imperil a woman’s reputation!

      Mrs. Quinton Twelves.

      [Amused.] Yes, isn’t it?

      Claude.