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

ago I sent a letter to the Professor by Effie asking him to meet me here at two o’clock, as I had something very particular to say to him.

      LUCY. Meaning, of course, that you hope to get him to say something very particular to you.

      DOWAGER. Exactly!

      LUCY (curiously). Tell me, do you really care for him?

      DOWAGER. I shouldn’t wonder. And I assure you I mean to make him very happy. Somebody once said to me that I was the one woman in the world for the Professor; I forget who it was — perhaps it was myself — but that doesn’t matter, and obviously Miss Goodwillie is quite favourable.

      LUCY. You don’t really think him in love with you, do you?

      DOWAGER. Not with my hand on my heart, Lucy. Still, what else can be making him so gay and sportive?

      LUCY. Don’t you think it just possible that there might be some other woman?

      DOWAGER. YOU naughty! He never sees any other woman.

      LUCY. After all, there’s me.

      DOWAGER. YOU? You droll thing. Naturally he sees you and Effie. But I mean a lady.

      LUCY. Ah, yes.

      DOWAGER. Of course, you are a lady in a sense.

      LUCY. No, no! (Sits on stook.)

      DOWAGER. Yes, in a sense. I am a faithful radical. Now listen and learn. The great difficulty with men is not to make them fall in love with you, but to get them to propose. So I have devised such a simple little scheme for helping the Professor out of his difficulty.

      LUCY. How thoughtful of you….

      DOWAGER. It is this. When he arrives here, he will find me in a swoon. This is where I intend to faint. Do you see the result?

      LUCY. Not quite.

      DOWAGER. Ah, you are obtuse. The Professor sees that I’ve fainted. His first impulse is to rush to the river for water — but he has nothing to carry it in.

      LUCY. His hat!

      DOWAGER. Oh, he is too stupid to think of that.

      LUCY. This tin pan. (Pointing to one.)

      DOWAGER. Ah! (Hides it in rick.) That settles the tin pan! In a moment he sees that he must carry me to the river; he lifts me up gently, he hurries off with his lovely burden and — but there is no more to be said, for the woman who is in a man’s arms and can’t draw a proposal out of him, is — well, she’s no true helpmate.

      LUCY. What a sweetly simple scheme.

      DOWAGER. Isn’t it? And quite justifiable. I feel as if I were a lovely little cupid, standing on one toe and firing an arrow into the dense one’s breast. (She realises the picture.)

      Whitey, you may almost congratulate me already.

      LUCY. I do.

      DOWAGER. Do you think I should lie this way — or this way? (Tries.) Ugh! (Starting up.)

      LUCY. What is it?

      DOWAGER. Spiders!

      LUCY. You should have a rug to faint on.

      DOWAGER. A capital idea. There are some near the gate.

      I’ll get one. Lucy, if the Professor comes before his time, keep him away from this spot till I return.

      LUCY. Very well.

      DOWAGER (going). How cleverly you managed Henders and Pete. It is simply the best joke I know of.

      LUCY. Oh, I could show you a much better joke than that.

      DOWAGER. You clever little thing. You shall!

      (The DOWAGER goes.)

      LUCY (looking after her). I will.

      (PROFESSOR is heard calling ‘LADY GILDING.’) I will!

      (lucy faints, as dowager has shown her, on stook.

      professor comes on looking for dowager. He finds lucy lying there and is anguished.)

      PROFESSOR. Miss Lucy! Fainted! Hie, hie, help! Oh, Miss Lucy! Water! The river! Look up, Miss Lucy. Dear Miss Lucy!

      (He carries her off. EFFIE enters moodily knitting.

      PETE rushes on breathlessly.)

      PETE. Effie!

      EFFIE. Pete — you ‘re out of breath.

      PETE. Effie, quick — will you?

      EFFIE. Will I what?

      PETE (jumps, looking for HENDERS). Will you take me, Effie?

      EFFIE. Do you mean, will I marry you?

      PETE. Ay! Will you?

      EFFIE. Where’s Henders?

      PETE. I’ve no idea. Will you?

      EFFIE. Ay, I will.

      PETE. I’ve won! (Mops brow.)

      EFFIE (perhaps expecting endearments). Is that all, Pete?

      PETE (heavy-witted). All? What more could there be?

      EFFIE. That’s no for a lassie to say. (Pointedly) You’ve crumpled me terrible.

      PETE. Me? I never touched you!

      EFFIE. So you didna. I’ll always mind that about you, Pete. (She is going.)

      PETE. Where are you going, Effie?

      EFFIE. To tell everybody I’m promised to you.

      PETE. Is that necessary? (Following her.)

      EFFIE. Ay, it’ll make me feel surer o’ you. Good day to you, Pete.

      (Exit EFFIE. He stares after her and mops his brow. Enter HENDERS hurriedly.)

      HENDERS. Whaur’s Effie?

      PETE. You ‘re ower late, my man.

      HENDERS. She’s yours?

      PETE. She’s mine.

      HENDERS. Dagont! (Sits on sheaf.)

      PETE. You ‘re michty jelly-ous o’ me, Henders!

      HENDERS. Jelly-ous! Not me.

      PETE. What? Think shame to pretend.

      HENDERS. Poor Pete.

      PETE. Marriage is an honourable estate.

      HENDERS. It’s michty risky.

      PETE. It is risky. Once they have you, they have you. There’s no way out, no, man, no! But — but Effie’s a jewel.

      HENDERS. It’s a good thing you think so. Willium Todd thought that about Christy Lunan, but whaur is Willium now?

      PETE. They say she makes him wander about the house in his stocking soles in case his boots messes the floor.

      HENDERS. Poor Willium, I liked him fine.

      PETE. You speak as if he was dead.

      HENDERS. He’s married.

      PETE. Effie’s a beauty, Henders.

      HENDERS. It doesna wear.

      PETE. I ken her weel.

      HENDERS. I hope you’ll never ken her better.

      PETE. Henders, you terrify me. Ah, you wanted her yoursel’.

      HENDERS. Not me!

      PETE. But you did. It was hearing you were off to put it to her that made me do’t.

      HENDERS. You’ve made an awful mistake, Pete. I wasna after Effie. I was after you to warn you against being in a hurry. You ‘re so fearful rash when your blood’s up.

      PETE. I am, woe ‘s me, I’m lost.