The Second Series Plays | Page 5

covert first.
What did we get last year?
STUDDENHAM. [Producing the game-book; but without reference to
it] Two hundred and fifty-three pheasants, eleven hares, fifty-two
rabbits, three woodcock, sundry.
SIR WILLIAM. Sundry? Didn't include a fox did it? [Gravely] I was
seriously upset this morning at Warnham's spinney----
SUDDENHAM. [Very gravely] You don't say, Sir William; that
four-year-old he du look a handful!
SIR WILLIAM. [With a sharp look] You know well enough what I
mean.
STUDDENHAM. [Unmoved] Shall I send young Dunning, Sir
William?
SIR WILLIAM gives a short, sharp nod, and STUDDENHAM retires
by the door under the stairs.
SIR WILLIAM. Old fox!
LADY CHESHIRE. Don't be too hard on Dunning. He's very young.
SIR WILLIAM. [Patting her arm] My dear, you don't understand young
fellows, how should you?
LADY CHESHIRE. [With her faint irony] A husband and two sons not
counting. [Then as the door under the stairs is opened] Bill, now do----
SIR WILLIAM. I'll be gentle with him. [Sharply] Come in!
LADY CHESHIRE retires to the billiard-room. She gives a look back
and a half smile at young DUNNING, a fair young man dressed in
broom cords and leggings, and holding his cap in his hand; then goes
out.
SIR WILLIAM. Evenin', Dunning.
DUNNING. [Twisting his cap] Evenin', Sir William.
SIR WILLIAM. Studdenham's told you what I want to see you about?
DUNNING. Yes, Sir.
SIR WILLIAM. The thing's in your hands. Take it or leave it. I don't
put pressure on you. I simply won't have this sort of thing on my estate.
DUNNING. I'd like to say, Sir William, that she [He stops].

SIR WILLIAM. Yes, I daresay-Six of one and half a dozen of the other.
Can't go into that.
DUNNING. No, Sir William.
SIR WILLIAM. I'm quite mild with you. This is your first place. If you
leave here you'll get no character.
DUNNING. I never meant any harm, sir.
SIR WILLIAM. My good fellow, you know the custom of the country.
DUNNING. Yes, Sir William, but----
SIR WILLIAM. You should have looked before you leaped. I'm not
forcing you. If you refuse you must go, that's all.
DUNNING. Yes. Sir William.
SIR WILLIAM. Well, now go along and take a day to think it over.
BILL, who has sauntered moody from the diningroom, stands by the
stairs listening. Catching sight of him, DUNNING raises his hand to his
forelock.
DUNNING. Very good, Sir William. [He turns, fumbles, and turns
again] My old mother's dependent on me----
SIR WILLIAM. Now, Dunning, I've no more to say. [Dunning goes
sadly away under the stairs.]
SIR WILLIAM. [Following] And look here! Just understand this [He
too goes out....]
BILL, lighting a cigarette, has approached the writing-table. He looks
very glum. The billiard-room door is flung open. MABEL
LANFARNE appears, and makes him a little curtsey.
MABEL. Against my will I am bidden to bring you in to pool.
BILL. Sorry! I've got letters.
MABEL. You seem to have become very conscientious.
BILL. Oh! I don't know.
MABEL. Do you remember the last day of the covert shooting?
BITS. I do.
MABEL. [Suddenly] What a pretty girl Freda Studdenham's grown!
BILL. Has she?
MABEL. "She walks in beauty."
BILL. Really? Hadn't noticed.
MABEL. Have you been taking lessons in conversation?
BILL. Don't think so.
MABEL. Oh! [There is a silence] Mr. Cheshire!

BILL. Miss Lanfarne!
MABEL. What's the matter with you? Aren't you rather queer,
considering that I don't bite, and was rather a pal!
BILL. [Stolidly] I'm sorry.
Then seeing that his mother has came in from the billiard-room, he sits
down at the writing-table.
LADY CHESHIRE. Mabel, dear, do take my cue. Won't you play too,
Bill, and try and stop Ronny, he's too terrible?
BILL. Thanks. I've got these letters.
MABEL taking the cue passes back into the billiard-room, whence
comes out the sound of talk and laughter.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Going over and standing behind her son's chair]
Anything wrong, darling?
BILL. Nothing, thanks. [Suddenly] I say, I wish you hadn't asked that
girl here.
LADY CHESHIRE. Mabel! Why? She's wanted for rehearsals. I
thought you got on so well with her last Christmas.
BILL. [With a sort of sullen exasperation.] A year ago.
LADY CHESHIRE. The girls like her, so does your father; personally I
must say I think she's rather nice and Irish.
BILL. She's all right, I daresay.
He looks round as if to show his mother that he wishes to be left alone.
But LADY CHESHIRE, having seen that he is about to look at her, is
not looking at him.
LADY CHESHIRE. I'm afraid your father's been talking to you, Bill.
BILL. He has.
LADY CHESHIRE. Debts? Do try and make allowances. [With a faint
smile] Of course he is a little----
BILL. He is.
LADY CHESHIRE. I