The Admirable Crichton Part 17

TWEENY (with large eyes). Are you offering to walk out with me, Erny?

ERNEST (pa.s.sionately). More than that. I want to build a little house for you--in the sunny glade down by Porcupine Creek. I want to make chairs for you and tables; and knives and forks, and a sideboard for you.

TWEENY (who is fond of language). I like to hear you. (Eyeing him.) Would there be any one in the house except myself, Ernest?

ERNEST (humbly). Not often; but just occasionally there would be your adoring husband.

TWEENY (decisively). It won't do, Ernest.

ERNEST (pleading). It isn't as if I should be much there.

TWEENY. I know, I know; but I don't love you, Ernest. I'm that sorry.

ERNEST (putting his case cleverly). Twice a week I should be away altogether--at the dam. On the other days you would never see me from breakfast time to supper. (With the self-abnegation of the true lover.) If you like I'll even go fis.h.i.+ng on Sundays.

TWEENY. It's no use, Erny.

ERNEST (rising manfully). Thank you, Tweeny; it can't be helped. (Then he remembers.) Tweeny, we shall be disappointing the Gov.

TWEENY (with a sinking). What's that?

ERNEST. He wanted us to marry.

TWEENY (blankly). You and me? the Gov.! (Her head droops woefully. From without is heard the whistling of a happier spirit, and TWEENY draws herself up fiercely.) That's her; that's the thing what has stole his heart from me. (A stalwart youth appears at the window, so handsome and tingling with vitality that, glad to depose CRICHTON, we cry thankfully, 'The Hero at last.' But it is not the hero; it is the heroine. This splendid boy, clad in skins, is what nature has done for LADY MARY. She carries bow and arrows and a blow-pipe, and over her shoulder is a fat buck, which she drops with a cry of triumph. Forgetting to enter demurely, she leaps through the window.) (Sourly.) Drat you, Polly, why don't you wipe your feet?

LADY MARY (good-naturedly). Come, Tweeny, be nice to me. It's a splendid buck. (But TWEENY shakes her off, and retires to the kitchen fire.)

ERNEST. Where did you get it?

LADY MARY (gaily). I sighted a herd near Penguin's Creek, but had to creep round Silver Lake to get to windward of them. However, they spotted me and then the fun began. There was nothing for it but to try and run them down, so I singled out a fat buck and away we went down the sh.o.r.e of the lake, up the valley of rolling stones; he doubled into Brawling River and took to the water, but I swam after him; the river is only half a mile broad there, but it runs strong. He went spinning down the rapids, down I went in pursuit; he clambered ash.o.r.e, I clambered ash.o.r.e; away we tore helter-skelter up the hill and down again. I lost him in the marshes, got on his track again near Bread Fruit Wood, and brought him down with an arrow in Firefly Grove.

TWEENY (staring at her). Aren't you tired?

LADY MARY. Tired! It was gorgeous. (She runs up a ladder and deposits her weapons on the joists. She is whistling again.)

TWEENY (snapping). I can't abide a woman whistling.

LADY MARY (indifferently). I like it.

TWEENY (stamping her foot). Drop it, Polly, I tell you.

LADY MARY (stung). I won't. I'm as good as you are. (They are facing each other defiantly.)

ERNEST (shocked). Is this necessary? Think how it would pain him. (LADY MARY's eyes take a new expression. We see them soft for the first time.)

LADY MARY (contritely). Tweeny, I beg your pardon. If my whistling annoys you, I shall try to cure myself of it. (Instead of calming TWEENY, this floods her face in tears.) Why, how can that hurt you, Tweeny dear?

TWEENY. Because I can't make you lose your temper.

LADY MARY (divinely). Indeed, I often do. Would that I were nicer to everybody.

TWEENY. There you are again. (Wistfully.) What makes you want to be so nice, Polly?

LADY MARY (with fervour). Only thankfulness, Tweeny. (She exults.) It is such fun to be alive. (So also seem to think CATHERINE and AGATHA, who bounce in with fis.h.i.+ng-rods and creel. They, too, are in manly attire.)

CATHERINE. We've got some ripping fish for the Gov.'s dinner. Are we in time? We ran all the way.

TWEENY (tartly). You'll please to cook them yourself, Kitty, and look sharp about it. (She retires to her hearth, where AGATHA follows her.)

AGATHA (yearning). Has the Gov. decided who is to wait upon him to-day?

CATHERINE (who is cleaning her fish). It's my turn.

AGATHA (hotly). I don't see that.

TWEENY (with bitterness). It's to be neither of you, Aggy; he wants Polly again.

(LADY MARY is unable to resist a joyous whistle.)

AGATHA (jealously). Polly, you toad. (But they cannot make LADY MARY angry.)

TWEENY (storming). How dare you look so happy?

LADY MARY (willing to embrace her). I wish, Tweeny, there was anything I could do to make you happy also.

TWEENY. Me! Oh, I'm happy. (She remembers ERNEST, whom it is easy to forget on an island.) I've just had a proposal, I tell you.

(LADY MARY is shaken at last, and her sisters with her.)

AGATHA. A proposal?

CATHERINE (going white). Not--not--(She dare not say his name.)

ERNEST (with singular modesty). You needn't be alarmed; it's only me.

LADY MARY (relieved). Oh, you!

AGATHA (happy again). Ernest, you dear, I got such a shock.

CATHERINE. It was only Ernest. (Showing him her fish in thankfulness.) They are beautifully fresh; come and help me to cook them.

ERNEST (with simple dignity). Do you mind if I don't cook fish to-night?

(She does not mind in the least. They have all forgotten him. A lark is singing in three hearts.) I think you might all be a little sorry for a chap. (But they are not even sorry, and he addresses AGATHA in these winged words:) I'm particularly disappointed in you, Aggy; seeing that I was half engaged to you, I think you might have had the good feeling to be a little more hurt.

AGATHA. Oh, bother.

ERNEST (summing up the situation in so far as it affects himself). I shall now go and lie down for a bit. (He retires coldly but unregretted.

LADY MARY approaches TWEENY with her most insinuating smile.)