Dear Brutus | Page 6

have said yourself that it is the one blot on the landscape.
COADE (almost as great a humorist as PURDIE). Ah, on ordinary occasions! But allow us to point out to you, Miss Joanna, that this is Midsummer Eve.
(LOB again comes sharply under female observation.)
PURDIE. Tell them what you told us, Lob.
LOB (with a pout for the credulous). It is all nonsense, of course; just foolish talk of the villagers. They say that on Midsummer Eve there is a strange wood in this part of the country.
ALICE (lowering). Where?
PURDIE. Ah, that is one of its most charming features. It is never twice in the same place apparently. It has been seen on different parts of the Downs and on More Common; once it was close to Radley village and another time about a mile from the sea. Oh, a sporting wood!
LADY CAROLINE. And Lob is anxious that we should all go and look for it?
COADE. Not he; Lob is the only sceptic in the house. Says it is all rubbish, and that we shall be sillies if we go. But we believe, eh, Purdie?
PURDIE (waggishly). Rather!
LOB (the artful). Just wasting the evening. Let us have a round game at cards here instead.
PURDIE (grandly), No, sir, I am going to find that wood.
JOANNA. What is the good of it when it is found?
PURDIE. We shall wander in it deliciously, listening to a new sort of bird called the Philomel.
(LOB is behaving in the most exemplary manner; making sweet little clucking sounds.)
JOANNA (doubtfully). Shall we keep together, Mr. Purdie?
PURDIE. No, we must hunt in pairs.
JOANNA. (converted). I think it would he rather fun. Come on, Coady, I'll lace your boots for you. I am sure your poor foot will carry you nicely.
ALICE. Miss Trout, wait a moment. Lob, has this wonderful wood any special properties?
LOB. Pooh! There's no wood.
LADY CAROLINE. You've never seen it?
LOB. Not I. I don't believe in it.
ALICE. Have any of the villagers ever been in it?
LOB (dreamily). So it's said; so it's said.
ALICE. What did they say were their experiences?
LOB. That isn't known. They never came back.
JOANNA (promptly resuming her seat). Never came back!
LOB. Absurd, of course. You see in the morning the wood was gone; and so they were gone, too. (He clucks again.)
JOANNA. I don't think I like this wood.
MRS. COADE. It certainly is Midsummer Eve.
COADE (remembering that women are not yet civilised). Of course if you ladies are against it we will drop the idea. It was only a bit of fun.
ALICE (with a malicious eye on LOB). Yes, better give it up--to please Lob.
PURDIE. Oh, all right, Lob. What about that round game of cards?
(The proposal meets with approval.)
LOB (bursting into tears). I wanted you to go. I had set my heart on your going. It is the thing I wanted, and it isn't good for me not to get the thing I want.
(He creeps under the table and threatens the hands that would draw him out.)
MRS. COADE. Good gracious, he has wanted it all the time. You wicked Lob!
ALICE. Now, you see there is something in it.
COADE. Nonsense, Mrs. Dearth, it was only a joke.
MABEL (melting). Don't cry, Lobby.
LOB. Nobody cares for me--nobody loves me. And I need to be loved.
(Several of them are on their knees to him.)
JOANNA. Yes, we do, we all love you. Nice, nice Lobby.
MABEL. Dear Lob, I am so fond of you.
JOANNA. Dry his eyes with my own handkerchief. (He holds up his eyes but is otherwise inconsolable.)
LADY CAROLINE. Don't pamper him.
LOB (furiously). I need to be pampered.
MRS. COADE. You funny little man. Let us go at once and look for his wood.
(All feel that thus alone can his tears be dried.)
JOANNA. Boots and cloaks, hats forward. Come on, Lady Caroline, just to show you are not afraid of Matey.
(There is a general exodus, and LOB left alone emerges from his temporary retirement. He ducks victoriously, but presently is on his knees again distressfully regarding some flowers that have fallen from their bowl.)
LOB. Poor bruised one, it was I who hurt you. Lob is so sorry. Lie there! (To another.) Pretty, pretty, let me see where you have a pain? You fell on your head; is this the place? Now I make it better. Oh, little rascal, you are not hurt at all; you just pretend. Oh dear, oh dear! Sweetheart, don't cry, you are now prettier than ever. You were too tall. Oh, how beautifully you smell now that you are small. (He replaces the wounded tenderly in their bowl.) rink, drink. Now, you are happy again. The little rascal smiles. All smile, please--nod heads--aha! aha! You love Lob--Lob loves you.
(JOANNA and MR. PURDIE stroll in by the window.)
JOANNA. What were you saying to them, Lob?
LOB. I was saying 'Two's company, three's none.'
(He departs with a final cluck.)
JOANNA.