The Man from Home | Page 4

shabby, patched velveteen trousers and blue flannel shirts open at the
throat, with big black hats, old and shapeless. One makes a low and
sweeping bow before ETHEL; she takes money from her glove and
gives it to him, the other two not discontinuing the song; the three
immediately 'bout face and go out gleefully, capering and still singing.]
HAWCASTLE [who has risen]. The divine Miss Granger-Simpson!

ETHEL [with a pronounced "English accent"]. The divinely happy
Miss Granger-Simpson!
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [rising, running to her, and kissing her].
Oh, I hope you mean--
HAWCASTLE [with some excitement in his voice]. You mean you
have made my son divinely happy?
[ETHEL, as he speaks, extricates herself laughingly from MADAME
DE CHAMPIGNY.]
ETHEL. Is not every one happy in Sorrento--[with a wave of her
riding-crop]--even your son?
[Exit laughingly and hurriedly into the hotel.]
[MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY goes to stool behind table and gets her
parasol, as HAWCASTLE resumes his seat.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY. Ah! that is good. Listen!
[A piano sounds from the room ETHEL has just entered, breaking
loudly and gayly into Chaminade's "Elevation." ETHEL'S voice is
heard for a moment, also, singing.]
She has flown to her piano. It looks well, indeed--our little enterprise.
HAWCASTLE [grimly]. It's time. If Almeric had been anything but a
clumsy oof he'd have made her settle it weeks ago!
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [quickly]. You are invidious, mon ami!
My affair is not settled--am I a clumsy oof?
HAWCASTLE [leaning toward her across the table and speaking
sharply and earnestly]. No, Hélène. Your little American, brother
Horace, is so in love with you, if you asked him suddenly, "Is this day
or night?" he would answer, "It's Hélène." But he's too shy to speak.
You're a woman--you can't press matters; but Almeric's a man--he can.

He can urge an immediate marriage, which means an immediate
settlement, and a direct one.
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [seriously, quickly]. It will not be small,
that settlement?
[He shakes his head grimly, leaning back to look at her. She continues
eagerly.]
You have decide' what sum?
[He nods decidedly.]
What?
HAWCASTLE [sharply, with determination, yet quietly]. A hundred
and fifty thousand pounds!
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [excited and breathless]. My friend!
Will she?
[Turns and stares toward ETHEL'S room, where the piano is still heard
softly playing.]
HAWCASTLE. Not for Almeric, but to be the future Countess of
Hawcastle. My sister-in-law hasn't been her chaperone for a year for
nothing. And, by Jove, she hasn't done it for nothing, either!
[He laughs grimly, moving back from the table.]
But she's deserved all I shall allow her.
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [coldly]. Why?
HAWCASTLE [rising]. It was she who found these people. Indeed, we
might say that both you and I owe her something also. [Comes around
behind table to MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY.] Even a less captious
respectability than Lady Creech's might have looked askance at the
long friendship [kisses her hand] which has existed between us. Yet she

has always countenanced us, though she must have guessed--a great
many things. And she will help us to urge an immediate marriage. You
know as well as I do that unless it is immediate, there'll be the devil to
pay. Don't miss that essential: something must be done at once. We're
at the breaking-point--if you like the words--a most damnable
insolvency.
[Enter ALMERIC from the grove. He is a fair, fresh-colored
Englishman of twenty-five, handsome in a rather vacuous way. He
wears white duck riding-breeches, light-tan leather riding-gaiters and
shoes, a riding-coat of white duck, a waistcoat light tan in shade, and a
high riding-stock, the collar of which is white, the "puffed" tie pink; a
Panama hat with a fold of light tan and white silk round the crown.
Carries a riding-crop.]
ALMERIC [as he enters]. Hello, Governor!
[His voice is habitually loud and his accent somewhat foppish, having a
little of the "Guardsman" affectation of languor and indifference.]
Howdy, Countess!
[He drops into a chair at the breakfast-table with a slight effect of
sprawling.]
HAWCASTLE [sharply]. Almeric!
ALMERIC. Out riding a bit ago, you know, with Miss
Granger-Simpson. Rippin' girl, _isn't_ she?
HAWCASTLE [leaning across the table toward him, anxiously]. Go
on!
ALMERIC [continuing, slapping his gaiters carelessly with his crop].
Didn't stop with her, though.
HAWCASTLE [angrily]. Why not?
ALMERIC. A sort of man in the village got me to go look at a

bull-terrier pup. Wonderful little beast for points. Jolly luck--_wasn't_
it? He's got a head on him--
HAWCASTLE [bitterly]. We'll concede his tremendous advantage over
you in that respect.
[Throws his cigar disgustedly into one of the coffee-cups on the table.]
MADAME DE CHAMPIGNY [eagerly]. Is that all you have to tell us?
ALMERIC. Oh no! She accepted me.
[HAWCASTLE drops into a chair with a long breath of relief.]
MADAME