Dandy Dick — Act 2 - Evening
The morning-room at the Deanery, with the fire and the lamps lighted.
It is after dinner.
SHEBA is playing the piano, SALOME lolling upon the settee, and GEORGIANA pouring out tea.
They are in evening dress.
GEORGIANA.
Sugar, Sally?
I call you Sally, Salome--the evening's too short for your name.
SALOME.
All right, Aunt George--two lumps, please.
GEORGIANA.
[_To SHEBA.
_] Little 'un?
SHEBA.
Two lumps and one in the saucer, to eat.
GEORGIANA.
Quite a relief to shake off the gentlemen, isn't it?
SALOME.
Do you think so, Aunt?
SHEBA.
Oh, _I_ don't think so.
GEORGIANA.
H'm!
Now I understand why my foot was always in the way under the dinner-table.
[_She holds out two cups, which the girls take from her.
_ SALOME.
I thought the dinner was an overwhelming success.
SHEBA.
All our dinners are at the Deanery.
GEORGIANA.
Awfully jolly.
Mutton was overdone.
SALOME.
That's our new cook's one failing.
GEORGIANA.
But the potatoes weren't--they rattled.
SHEBA.
Cook never can manage potatoes.
GEORGIANA.
What was wrong with the custards?
SALOME.
Well, it was Cook's first attempt at custards.
GEORGIANA.
However, they served one useful end.
Now we _know_ the chimney wants sweeping.
SALOME.
But it was a frightfully jolly dinner--take it all round.
SHEBA.
Yes, take it all round.
One has to take things all round.
GEORGIANA.
What made us all so sad and silent--taking us all round?
SHEBA.
Dear Papa was as lively as an owl with neuralgia.
GEORGIANA.
Major Tarver isn't a conversational cracker.
SALOME.
Gerald Tarver has no liver--to speak of.
GEORGIANA.
He might have spoken about his lungs or something, to cheer us up.
SHEBA.
I fancy Mr. Darbey was about to make a witty remark once.
GEORGIANA.
Yes, and then the servant handed him a dish and he shied at it.
So we lost that.
SALOME.
Still, we ought to congratulate ourselves upon--upon a---- SHEBA.
Upon a--upon a---- GEORGIANA.
Upon a frightfully jolly dinner.
[_Taking her betting book from her pocket.
_] Excuse me, girls.
I've some figures to work out.
If Dandy Dick hasn't fed better at the "Swan" than we have at the Deanery, he won't be in the first three.
[_Reckoning.
_] Let me see.
SALOME.
[_To SHEBA.
_] All's settled, Sheba, isn't it?
SHEBA.
[_To SALOME.
_] Yes--everything.
Directly the house is silent we let ourselves out at the front door.
SALOME.
How do we get in again?
SHEBA.
By this window.
It has a patent safety fastening, so it can be opened with a hairpin.
SALOME.
We're courageous girls, aren't we?
SHEBA.
Yes, I don't consider we're ordinary young ladies, at all.
SALOME.
If we had known Aunt a little longer we might have confided in her and taken her with us.
SHEBA.
Poor Aunt--we mustn't spoil her.
DARBEY.
[_Speaking outside.
_] I venture to differ with you, my dear Dean.
GEORGIANA.
Here come the wax-works!
[_She joins the girls as DARBEY enters through the Library, patronizing THE DEAN, who accompanies him.
_ DARBEY.
Haw!
I've just been putting the Dean right about a little army question, Mrs. --Mrs. ---- I can't catch your name.
GEORGIANA.
Don't try--you'd come out in spots, like measles.
[DARBEY _stands by her, blankly, then attempts a conversation.
_ THE DEAN.
[_To SALOME and SHEBA.
_] Children, it is useless to battle against it much longer.
SALOME.
Against what, Papa?
THE DEAN.
A feeling of positive distaste for Mr. Darbey.
SHEBA.
Oh, Papsey--think what Wellington was at his age.
_MAJOR TARVER enters, pale and haggard.
_ _SALOME meets him.
_ SALOME.
Major!
TARVER.
[_With a gasp.
_] Oh!
SALOME.
Not well again?
TARVER.
Indigestion.
I'm always like this after dinner.
SALOME.
But what would you do if the trumpet summoned you to battle?
TARVER.
Oh, I suppose I should pack up a few charcoal biscuits and toddle out, you know.
GEORGIANA.
[_To DARBEY.
_] I've never studied the Army Guide.
DARBEY.
You're thinking of---- GEORGIANA.
The Turf Guide--beg pardon.
I mean, the Army keeps a string of trained nurses, doesn't it?
DARBEY.
There _are_ Army nurses.
GEORGIANA.
Certainly.
I was wondering whether your Colonel will send one with a perambulator to fetch you at about half-past eight.
[_She leaves DARBEY and goes to THE DEAN.
SHEBA joins DARBEY at the piano.
_ GEORGIANA.
Well, Gus, my boy, you seem out of condition.
THE DEAN.
I'm rather anxious for the post to bring to-day's "Times."
You know I've offered a thousand pounds to our Restoration Fund.
GEORGIANA.
What!
THE DEAN.
Hush--I'll tell you.
[_They talk in undertones.
BLORE enters to remove the tea-tray.
_ TARVER.
[_Jumping up excitedly--to SALOME.
_] Eh?
Oh, certainly--delighted!
[_Singing to himself.
_] "Come into the garden, Maud, for the black bat----" SALOME.
Now you're yourself again.
TARVER.
I'm always dreadfully excited when I'm asked to sing.
It's as good as a carbonate of soda lozenge to me to be asked to sing.
[_To BLORE.
_] My music is in my overcoat pocket.
[_BLORE crosses to the door.
_ SHEBA.
And Mr. Darbey has brought his violin.
TARVER.
[_In a rage, glaring at DARBEY.
_] Hah!
There now!
DARBEY.
[_To BLORE.
_] You'll find it in the hall.
[_BLORE goes out.
THE DEAN dozes in a chair.
SALOME and SHEBA talk to GEORGIANA at the table.
_ TARVER.
[_To himself.
_] He always presumes with his confounded fiddle when I'm going to entertain.
He knows that his fiddle's never hoarse and that I am, sometimes.
DARBEY.
[_To himself.
_] Tarver always tries to cut me out with his elderly Chest C. He ought to put it on the Retired List.
TARVER.
I'll sing him off his legs to-night--I'm in lovely voice.
[_He walks into the Library and is heard trying his voice, singing "Come into the garden, Maud."
_ DARBEY.
[_To himself.
_] He needn't bother himself.
While he was dozing in the carriage I threw his music out of the window.
_TARVER re-enters triumphantly.
_ _BLORE re-enters, carrying a violin-case and a leather music roll.
DARBEY takes the violin-case, opens it, and produces his violin and music.
BLORE hands the music roll to TARVER and goes out.
_ TARVER.
[_To SALOME, trembling with excitement.
_] My tones are like a beautiful bell this evening.
I'm so glad, for all our sakes.
[_As he takes the leather music roll from BLORE.
_] Thank you, that's it.
SALOME.
What will you begin with?
TARVER.
"Come into the garden, Maud."
I've begun with "Corne into the garden, Maud" for years and years.
[_He opens the music roll--it is empty.
_] Oh!
Miss Jedd, I've forgotten my music!
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
Oh!
Major Tarver!
[_TARVER with a groan of despair sinks on to the settee.
_ SHEBA.
Never mind--Mr. Darbey will play.
DARBEY.
[_Tuning his violin.
_] Will you accompany me?
SHEBA.
[_Raising her eyes.
_] To the end of the world.
[_She sits at the piano.
_ DARBEY.
My mother says that my bowing is something like Joachim's, and she ought to know.
SHEBA.
Why?
DARBEY.
Oh, because she's heard Joachim.
[_DARBEY plays and SHEBA accompanies him.
SALOME sits beside TARVER.
_ GEORGIANA.
[_To herself.
_] Well, after all, George, my boy, you're not stabled in such a bad box!
Here is a regular pure, simple, English Evening at Home!
THE DEAN.
[_Mumbling to himself.
_] A thousand pounds to the Restoration Fund and all those bills to settle--oh dear!
oh dear!
What shall I do?
SALOME.
[_To herself.
_] I hope my ball-dress will drive all the other women mad!
TARVER.
[_To himself--glaring at DARBEY.
_] I feel I should like to garrote him with his bass string.
GEORGIANA.
[_Frowning at her betting book.
_] I think I shall hedge a bit over the Crumbleigh Stakes.
DARBEY.
[_As he plays, glancing at TARVER.
_] I wonder how old Tarver's Chest C likes a holiday.
SHEBA.
[_As she plays.
_] We must get Pa to bed early.
Dear Papa's always so dreadfully in the way.
GEORGIANA.
[_Looking around.
_] No--there's nothing like it in any other country.
A regular, pure, simple, English Evening at Home!
_BLORE enters quickly, cutting "The Times" with a paper-knife as he enters.
_ BLORE.
The paper's just arrived.
[_The music stops abruptly--all the ladies glare at BLORE and hush him down.
_ GEORGIANA, SALOME, _and_ SHEBA.
Sssssh!
THE DEAN.
[_Taking the paper from BLORE.
_] This is my fault--there may be something in "The Times" of special interest to me.
Thank you, Blore.
[_BLORE goes out.
_ TARVER.
Ha, ha, ha!
spoilt his pianissimo!
THE DEAN.
[_Scanning the paper.
_] Oh, I can't believe it!
GEORGIANA.
What's the matter?
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
Papa!
TARVER _and_ DARBEY.
The Dean!
THE DEAN.
Children!
Georgiana!
Friends!
My munificent offer has produced the desired result.
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
Oh!
THE DEAN.
Seven wealthy people, including three brewers, have come forward with a thousand pounds apiece in aid of the restoration of the Minster Spire!
SALOME _and_ SHEBA.
[_Horrified.
_] Ah!
GEORGIANA.
That means a cool thousand out of your pocket, Gus.
