Frank Fairlegh Part 51

Susan. Very bad, John, very bad indeed; he has not got a leg to stand upon; and as to his shoe, try everything we can think of, we can't get him to put his foot in it.

[Extempore soliloquy by Lawless. Precious odd if lie doesn't, for he's not half up in his part, I know.]

John. Can't thee, really? well, if that be the case, I needn't ask how his temper is?

Susan. Bad enough, I can tell you; Missus has plenty to bear, poor thing!

John, Indeed she has, and she be too young and pretty to be used in that manner. Ah! that comes of marrying an old man for his money; she be uncommon pretty, to be sure; I only knows one prettier face in the whole village.

Susan (with an air of forced unconcern). Aye, John, and whose may that be, pray? Mary Bennett, perhaps, or Lucy Jones?

John. No, it ain't either of them.

Susan. Who is it then?

John. Well, if thee must needs know, the party's name is Susan.

Susan (still with an air of unconsciousness). Let me see, where is there a Susan? let me think a minute. Oh! -345-- one of Darling the blacksmith's girls, I dare say; it's Susan Darling!

John (rubbing his nose, and looking cunning). Well, 'tis Susan, darling, certainly; yes, thee be'st about right there--Susan, darling.

Susan (pouting). So you're in love with that girl, are you, Mr. John? A foolish, flirting thing, that cares for nothing but dancing and finery; a nice wife for a poor man she'll make, indeed--charming!

John. Now, don't thee go and fl.u.s.ter thyself about nothing, it ain't that girl as I'm in love with; I was only a-making fun of thee.

[Ill.u.s.tration: page345 A Charade Not All Acting]

Susan (crossly). There, I wish you wouldn't keep teasing of me so; I don't care anything about it--I dare say I've never seen her.

John. Oh! if that's all, I'll very soon show her to thee--come along.

(Takes her hand, and leads her up to the looking-gla.s.s.) There's the Susan I'm in love with, and hope to marry some day. Hasn't she got a pretty face? and isn't she a darling? (Susan looks at him for a minute, and then bursts into tears; bell rings violently, and a gruff voice calls impatiently, Susan! Susan!)

Susan. Coming, sir, coming. (Wipes her eyes with her ap.r.o.n.)

John. Let the old curmudgeon wait! (Voice behind the scenes, John!--John Ostler, I say!) Coming, sir; yes, sir. Sir, indeed--an old brute; but now, Susan, what do'st thee say? wilt thee have me for a husband? (Takes her hand.)

(Voice. John! John! I say. Susan! where are you? And enter Mr. Frampton, dressed as the Landlord, on crutches, and with his gouty foot in a sling.)

Landlord. John! you idle, good-for-nothing vagabond, why don't you come when you're called--eh?

Susan. Oh, sir! John was just coming, sir; and so was I, sir, if you please.

Landlord. You, indeed--ugh! you're just as bad as he is, making love in corners, (aside, Wonder whether she does really,) instead of attending to the customers; nice set of servants I have, to be sure. If this is all one gets by inn-keeping, it's not worth having. I keep the inn, and I expect the inn to keep me. (Aside. Horrid old joke, what made me put that in, I wonder? just like me--umph.') There's my wife, too--pretty hostess she makes.

John. So she does, master, sure-ly.

Landlord. Hold your tongue, fool--what do you know about it? (Bell rings.) There, do you hear that? run -346-- and see who that is, or I shall lose a customer by your carelessness next. Oh! the bother of servants--oh! the trouble of keeping an inn! (Hobbles out, driving Susan and John before him. Curtain falls.)

As the first scene ended the audience applauded loudly, and then began hazarding various conjectures as to the possible meaning of what they had witnessed. While the confusion of sounds was at the highest, Oaklands drew me on one side, and inquired, in an undertone, what I thought of Lawless's acting. "I was agreeably surprised," returned I, "I had no notion he would have entered into the part so thoroughly, or have acted with so much spirit."

"He did it _con amore_, certainly," replied Oaklands with bitterness; "I considered his manner impertinent in the highest degree, I wonder you can allow him to act with your sister; that man is in love with her--I feel sure of it--he meant every word he said. I hate this kind of thing altogether--I never approved of it; no lady should be subjected to such annoyance."

"Supposing it really were as you fancy, Harry, how do you know it would be so great an annoyance? It is just possible f.a.n.n.y may like him,"

rejoined I.

"Oh, certainly! pray let me know when I am to congratulate you," replied Oaklands with a scornful laugh; and, turning away abruptly, he crossed the room, joined a party of young ladies, and began talking and laughing with a degree of recklessness and excitability quite unusual to him.

While he was so doing, the curtain drew up, and discovered

Scene II.--Best room in the inn.

Enter Susan, showing in Hyacinth Adonis Brown (Coleman), dressed as a caricature of the fas.h.i.+on, with lemon-coloured kid gloves, staring-patterned trousers, sporting-coat, etc.

Susan. This is the settin'-room, if you please, sir. Hyacinth (fixing his gla.s.s in his eye, and scrutinising the apartment). This is the settin'-woom, is it? to set, to incubate as a hen--can't mean that, I imagine--provincial idiom, pwobably--aw--ya'as--I dare say I shall be able to exist in it as long as may be necessary--ar--let me have dinnaar, young woman, as soon as it can be got weady.

Susan. Yes, sir. What would you please to like, sir?

-347-- Hyacinth (looking at her with his gla.s.s still in his eye). Hem!

pwetty gal--ar--like, my dear, like?--(vewy pwetty gal!)

Susan. Beg pardon, sir, what did you say you would like?

Hyacinth. Chickens tender here, my dear?

Susan. Very tender, sir.

Hyacinth (approaching her). What's your name, my dear?

Susan. Susan, if you please, sir.

Hyacinth. Vewy pwetty name, indeed--(aside, Gal's worth cultivating--I'll do a little bit of fascination). Ahem! Chickens, Susan, are not the only things that can be tendar. (Advances, and attempts to take lier hand. Enter John hastily, and runs against Hyacinth, apparently by accident.)

Hyacinth (angrily). Now, fellar, where are you pus.h.i.+ng to, eh?

John. Beg parding, sir, I was a-looking for you, sir. (Places himself between Susan and Hyacinth.)

Hyacinth. Looking for me, fellar?

John. I ha' rubbed down your horse, sir, and I was a wis.h.i.+n' to know when you would like him fed. (Makes signs to Susan to leave the room.)

Hyacinth. Fed?--aw!--directly to be su-ar. (To Susan, who is going out.) Ar--don't you go.

John. No, sir, I ain't a-going. When shall I water him, sir?

Hyacinth (aside, Fellar talks as if the animal were a pot of mignonette). Ar--you'll give him some wataar as soon as he's eaten his dinnaar.

John. Werry good, sir; and how about hay, sir?

Hyacinth (aside, What a bo-ar the fellar is; I wish he'd take himself off). Weally, I must leave the hay to your discwession.