Magistrate — Act 1 - The Family Skeleton
THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY
MR.
POSKET (Magistrate of the Mulberry Street Police Court) AGATHA POSKET
CIS FARRINGDON (her Son) CHARLOTTE VERRINDER (her Sister) COLONEL LUKYN
CAPTAIN HORACE VALE
BEATIE TOMLINSON
MR.
BULLAMY (Magistrate of the Mulberry Street Police Court) ACHILLE BLOND
ISIDORE
MR.
WORMINGTON
INSPECTOR MESSITER }
SERJEANT LUGG } (Metropolitan Police) CONSTABLE HARRIS }
WYKE
POPHAM
_THE FIRST ACT_
THE FAMILY SKELETON
_THE SECOND ACT_
IT LEAVES ITS CUPBOARD
_THE THIRD ACT_
IT CRUMBLES
THE MAGISTRATE
THE FIRST ACT
_The scene represents a well-furnished drawing-room in the house of MR.
POSKET in Bloomsbury.
_ _BEATIE TOMLINSON, a pretty, simply dressed little girl of about sixteen, is playing the piano, as CIS FARRINGDON, a manly youth wearing an Eton jacket, enters the room.
_ CIS.
Beatie!
BEATIE.
Cis dear!
Dinner isn't over, surely?
CIS.
Not quite.
I had one of my convenient headaches and cleared out.
[_Taking an apple and some cobnuts from his pocket and giving them to BEATIE.
_] These are for you, dear, with my love.
I sneaked 'em off the sideboard as I came out.
BEATIE.
Oh, I mustn't take them!
CIS.
Yes, you may--it's my share of dessert.
Besides, it's a horrid shame you don't grub with us.
BEATIE.
What, a poor little music mistress!
CIS.
Yes.
They're only going to give you four guineas a quarter.
Fancy getting a girl like you for four guineas a quarter--why, an eighth of you is worth more than that!
Now peg away at your apple.
[_Produces a cigarette.
_ BEATIE.
There's company at dinner, isn't there?
[_Munching her apple.
_ CIS.
Well, hardly.
Aunt Charlotte hasn't arrived yet, so there's only old Bullamy.
BEATIE.
Isn't old Bullamy anybody?
CIS.
Old Bullamy--well, he's only like the guv'nor, a police magistrate at the Mulberry Street Police Court.
BEATIE.
Oh, does each police court have two magistrates?
CIS.
[_Proudly.
_] All the best have two.
BEATIE.
Don't they quarrel over getting the interesting cases?
I should.
CIS.
I don't know how they manage--perhaps they toss up who's to hear the big sensations.
There's a Mrs. Beldam, who is rather a bore sometimes;
I know the Guv always lets old Bullamy attend to her.
But, as a rule, I fancy they go half and half, in a friendly way.
[_Lighting cigarette.
_] For instance, if the guv'nor wants to go to the Derby he lets old Bullamy have the Oaks--and so on, see?
[_He sits on the floor, comfortably reclining against BEATIE, and puffing his cigarette.
_ BEATIE.
Oh, I say, Cis, won't your mamma be angry when she finds I haven't gone home?
CIS.
Oh, put it on to your pupil.
Say I'm very backward.
BEATIE.
I think you are extremely forward--in some ways.
[_Biting the apple and speaking with her mouth full.
_] I do wish I could get you to concentrate your attention on your music lessons.
But I wouldn't get you into a scrape!
CIS.
No fear of that.
Ma is too proud of me.
BEATIE.
But there's your step-father.
CIS.
The dear old guv'nor!
Why, he is too good-natured to say "Bo!"
to a goose.
You know, Beatie, I was at a school at Brighton when ma got married--when she got married the second time, I mean--and the guv'nor and I didn't make each other's acquaintance till after the honeymoon.
BEATIE.
Oh, fancy your step-father blindly accepting such a responsibility.
[_Gives him a cobnut to crack for her.
_ CIS.
Yes, wasn't the guv'nor soft!
I might have been a very indifferent sort of young fellow for all he knew.
[_Having cracked the nut with his teeth, he returns it to her.
_ BEATIE.
Thank you, dear.
CIS.
Well, when I heard the new dad was a police magistrate, I _was_ scared.
Said I to myself, "If I don't mind my P's and Q's, the guv'nor--from force of habit--will fine me all my pocket-money."
But it's quite the reverse--he's the mildest, meekest----[_The door opens suddenly.
_] Look out!
Some one coming!
[_They both jump up, BEATIE scattering the nuts that are in her lap all over the floor.
CIS throws his cigarette into the fireplace and sits at the piano, playing a simple exercise, very badly.
BEATIE
stands behind him counting.
_ BEATIE.
One--and two--and one--and two.
_WYKE, the butler, appears at the door, and mysteriously closes it after him.
_ WYKE.
Ssss!
Master Cis!
Master Cis!
CIS.
Hallo--what is it, Wyke?
WYKE.
[_Producing a decanter from under his coat.
_] The port wine what you asked for, sir.
I couldn't get it away before--the old gentlemen do hug port wine so.
CIS.
Got a glass?
WYKE.
Yes, sir.
[_Producing wine-glass from his pocket, and pouring out wine.
_] What ain't missed ain't mourned, eh, Master Cis?
CIS.
[_Offering wine.
_] Here you are, Beatie dear.
BEATIE.
The idea of such a thing!
I couldn't!
CIS.
Why not?
BEATIE.
If I merely sipped it I shouldn't be able to give you your music lesson properly.
Drink it yourself, you dear, thoughtful boy.
CIS.
I shan't--it's for you.
BEATIE.
I can't drink it!
CIS.
You must.
BEATIE.
I won't!
CIS.
You're disagreeable!
BEATIE.
Not half so disagreeable as you are.
[_They wrangle.
_ WYKE.
[_To himself, watching them.
_] What a young gentleman it is!
and only fourteen!
Fourteen--he behaves like forty!
[_CIS chokes as he is drinking the wine; BEATIE pats him on the back.
_] Why, even Cook has made a 'ash of everything, since he's been in the house, and as for Popham----!
[_Seeing some one approaching.
_] Look out, Master Cis!
[_CIS returns to the piano, BEATIE counting as before.
WYKE pretends to arrange the window curtains, concealing the decanter behind him.
_ BEATIE.
One and two--and one and two--and one, &c. _Enter POPHAM, a smart-looking maid-servant.
_ POPHAM.
Wyke, where's the port?
WYKE.
[_Vacantly.
_] Port?
POPHAM.
Port wine.
Missus is furious.
WYKE.
Port?
POPHAM.
[_Pointing to the decanter.
_] Why!
There!
You're carrying it about with you!
WYKE.
Why, so I am!
Carrying it about with me!
Shows what a sharp eye I keep on the guv'nor's wines.
Carrying it about with me!
Missus will be amused.
[_Goes out.
_ POPHAM.
[_Eyeing CIS and BEATIE.
_] There's that boy with _her_ again!
Minx!
Her two hours was up long ago.
Why doesn't she go home?
Master Cis, I've got a message for you.
CIS.
[_Rising from the piano.
_] For me, Popham?
POPHAM.
Yes, sir.
[_Quietly to him.
_] The message is from a young lady who up to last Wednesday was all in all to you.
Her name is Emma Popham.
CIS.
[_Trying to get away.
_] Oh, go along, Popham!
POPHAM.
[_Holding his sleeve.
_] Ah, it wasn't "Go along, Popham" till that music girl came into the house.
I will go along, but--cast your eye over this before you sleep to-night.
[_She takes out of her pocket-handkerchief a piece of printed paper which she hands him between her finger and thumb.
_] Part of a story in "Bow Bells," called "Jilted; or, Could Blood Atone?"
Wrap it in your handkerchief--it came round the butter.
[_She goes out; CIS throws the paper into the grate.
_ CIS.
Bother the girl!
Beatie, she's jealous of you!
BEATIE.
A parlour-maid jealous of _me_--and with a bit of a child of fourteen!
CIS.
I may be only fourteen, but I feel like a grown-up man!
You're only sixteen--there's not much difference--and if you will only wait for me, I'll soon catch you up and be as much a man as you are a woman.
Will you wait for me, Beatie?
BEATIE.
I can't--I'm getting older every minute!
CIS.
Oh, I wish I could borrow five or six years from somebody!
BEATIE.
Many a person would be glad to lend them.
[_Lovingly.
_] And oh, I wish you could!
CIS.
[_Putting his arm round her.
_] You do!
Why?
BEATIE.
Because I--because---- CIS.
[_Listening.
_] Look out!
Here's the mater!
[_They run to the piano, he resumes playing, and she counting as before.
_ BEATIE.
One and two--and one--and two, &c. _Enter AGATHA POSKET, a handsome, showy woman, of about thirty-six, looking perhaps younger.
_ AGATHA POSKET.
Why, Cis child, at your music again?
CIS.
Yes, ma, always at it.
You'll spoil my taste by forcing it if you're not careful.
AGATHA POSKET.
We have no right to keep Miss Tomlinson so late.
BEATIE.
Oh, thank you, it doesn't matter.
I--I--am afraid we're not making--very--great--progress.
CIS.
[_Winking at BEATIE.
_] Well, if I play that again, will you kiss me?
BEATIE.
[_Demurely.
_] I don't know, I'm sure.
[_To AGATHA POSKET.
_] May I promise that, ma'am?
[_Sits in the window recess.
CIS, joining her, puts his arm round her waist.
_ AGATHA POSKET.
No, certainly not.
[_To herself, watching them.
_] If I could only persuade Æneas to dismiss this _protégée_ of his, and to engage a music-master, it would ease my conscience a little.
If this girl knew the truth, how indignant she would be!
And then there is the injustice to the boy himself, and to my husband's friends who are always petting and fondling and caressing what they call "a fine little man of fourteen!"
Fourteen!
Oh, what an idiot I have been to conceal my child's real age!
[_Looking at the clock.
_] Charlotte is late; I wish she would come.
It will be a relief to worry her with my troubles.
MR.
POSKET.
[_Talking outside.
_] We smoke all over the house, Bullamy, all over the house.
AGATHA POSKET.
I will speak to Æneas about this little girl, at any rate.
_Enter MR. POSKET, a mild gentleman of about fifty, smoking a cigarette, followed by MR. BULLAMY, a fat, red-faced man with a bronchial cough and general huskiness.
_ MR.
POSKET.
Smoke anywhere, Bullamy--smoke anywhere.
MR.
BULLAMY.
Not with my bronchitis, thank ye.
MR.
POSKET.
[_Beaming at AGATHA POSKET.
_] Ah, my darling!
MR.
BULLAMY.
[_Producing a small box from his waistcoat pocket.
_] All I take after dinner is a jujube--sometimes two.
