The Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie - 30 Titles in One Edition. Джеймс Барри

GOODWILLIE. I do.

      COSENS. Miss Goodwillie, come!

      MISS GOODWILLIE. I must speak, whatever happens. This girl shall be told what I think of her.

      LUCY. I know already.

      MISS GOODWILLIE. We were discussing your plot to marry my brother.

      COSENS. No, no!

      LUCY. Oh yes, I am sure it is true.

      MISS GOODWILLIE. I said that Tom is so simple that you may succeed. That you are a mere adventuress. That you obtained your position as his secretary merely with a desire to entrap him, and that you would stop at nothing, absolutely nothing, in order to do so.

      COSENS. Miss Goodwillie, you really go too far.

      LUCY (to MISS GOODWILLIE). Have you finished?

      MISS GOODWILLIE. For the present.

      LUCY. And you won’t withdraw those words?

      MISS GOODWILLIE. No!

      LUCY. I give you one last chance. (Takes stage.) You know that I have never encouraged the Professor. In your heart you are afraid that had I cared to do so, I could be engaged to him at this moment. You know that since I came here I have been treated as a pariah; yes, by all of you, from the Dowager, who patronises me, and your Lady Gilding and her husband, who call me by my surname, down to your brother, whose belief that no one could love Lucy White, even while he does it, is the greatest insult of all.

      COSENS (to miss goodwillie). Be just to her, my friend.

      LUCY. All this you know to be true, and still have you no pity for me nor for the position I am in through no fault of my own?

      MISS GOODWILLIE. None!

      LUCY. Very well, then I’ll have none for you. The great desire of your life has been to keep your brother single. To have no one come between his love for you and your selfish love for him, and I — I have respected that desire — but now I will do so no longer.

      MISS GOODWILLIE. Hoity-toity, Miss. I am not afraid of you.

      COSENS. Miss White, I am not your enemy. If you tell me that you truly love Tom —

      LUCY. Would you believe my word?

      COSENS. I may be a fool but — yes, I would. Do you?

      LUCY (after hesitation). What has he done to deserve my love? (Exit.)

      COSENS. She does care for him. Miss Goodwillie, if you don’t mind I will beat a retreat to the cottage.

      MISS GOODWILLIE. Why?

      COSENS. For one reason, I see the Dowager coming. By the way, is she seeing much of the Professor?

      MISS GOODWILLIE. I fling them as much together as I can — to keep him away from Miss White.

      COSENS. Oho! Is that wise?

      MISS GOODWILLIE. I am not afraid of her.

      COSENS. H’m! Well, Miss White seems to have challenged the field, so I should like to get out of it.

      MISS GOODWILLIE. She alarms you?

      COSENS. Mortally. When it comes to Lucy White versus the field, I feel sure that Lucy White will win.

      MISS GOODWILLIE. YOU think so?

      COSENS. I do, and what is more, excuse me, I am inclined to think that it will serve the field jolly well right.

      (Exit.)

      (DOWAGER enters as he is going. She is humming gaily, waggles hand to him in high spirits, evidently meaning that all is going well. He responds and exits, amused.

      MISS GOODWILLIE is picking up PROFESSOR’S rod and creel.)

      MISS GOODWILLIE. YOU seem to be in high spirits.

      DOWAGER. I am! I don’t know why. Perhaps just because it’s such a beautiful world.

      MISS GOODWILLIE. I can’t say it is striking me in that light. By the way, I hope you are to take Tom off to lunch.

      DOWAGER. I shall be only too delighted.

      (Exit MISS GOODWILLIE. DOWAGER kisses hand after her, hums, skips about gaily, looks about her and calls.)

      DOWAGER. Lucykins!

      (Enter LUCY.)

      What do you think, Lucy, Miss Goodwillie has asked me to invite Thomas to lunch. She is evidently on my side.

      (DOWAGER seizes her and dances with her gaily.)

      Do you know why I am so fond of you to-day, you quaint, simple Whitey?

      LUCY. Perhaps it’s because you want me to do something for you.

      DOWAGER. Fancy your guessing. It is this! I want you to keep every one away from this part of the field for the next half-hour —

      LUCY. Except the Professor?

      DOWAGER. Right again!

      LUCY. It is so good of you to let me help you.

      (Enter PETE at back gathering out corn.)

      DOWAGER. Oh, there are heaps of things I mean to let you do for me besides that.

      LUCY. Thank you.

      DOWAGER. I expect the Prof — (Sees PETE) Go away, man.

      PETE. I have Sir George’s orders.

      DOWAGER. Most provoking!

      LUCY (to PETE). Pete, why haven’t you asked Effie to marry you?

      PETE. Because there’s no hurry.

      LUCY. There is a hurry, unless you want Henders to have her.

      PETE. What’s that? What do you mean?

      LUCY. Do you see the pink figure over there? (Pointing.)

      PETE. Ay, it’s Effie.

      LUCY. And a man hurrying towards her — there!

      PETE. No!

      LUCY. You do, Lady Gilding?

      DOWAGER. Distinctly.

      LUCY. Well, that is Henders, and he’s going straight to propose to her.

      PETE. What’s to be done?

      LUCY. I know what I’d do if I were you.

      PETE. What?

      LUCY. I’d run along the wood on this side and get to Effie before him.

      PETE. I will. (He runs off.)

      DOWAGER. Clever! Is it true about Henders?

      LUCY. No, but I want to help Effie to a husband.

      DOWAGER. She would have preferred Henders.

      LUCY. Are you sure of that?

      DOWAGER. She told me so.

      LUCY. Then I won’t let Pete get her. (Turns and calls off)

      Henders!

      DOWAGER. What does it matter? She will be quite satisfied with Pete.

      LUCY. She is a dear girl and she has been kind to me. (Calls)

      Henders!

      (Enter henders with sickle.)

      Look at Pete!

      HENDERS. What’s he up to?

      LUCY. He’s off to propose to Effie.

      HENDERS. Wh — at!

      (Throws down sickle and runs off. DOWAGER and LUCY laugh heartily.)

      LUCY. Now it is a race for a wife. (Sits on stook.)

      DOWAGER. Yes, and mine is to be a swoon for a husband.

      LUCY.