The Squire | Page 7

he is a handsome young fellow with an indolent manner. Crossing to Kate) How do you do, Squire?
{Kate.} (carelessly) What brings you here?
{Eric.} Strolled over from barracks--doctor says I must walk, and your place is somewhere to walk to.
{Kate.} Do you know Mr. Dormer?
{Eric.} (turning to Dor.) No, but my mother does. How do you do? (Eric shakes hands with Dormer. Dor. draws his hand away quickly and puts his hand in trousers pocket) Mrs. Thorndyke is a parishioner of yours, Mr. Dormer--her son ought to know a little of you.
{Dormer.} If her son attended his church regularly, he would know a little of me.
{Eric.} So my mother says. And you're not afraid of catching cold?
{Dormer.} No, sir! I am not. (irritably) Have you never seen a man with his coat off?
{Eric.} I beg your pardon--never a clergyman.
(Kate has finished mending the coat and has risen. Eric takes out his cigar case.)
(offering it to Dormer) Smoke a cigar, parson?
{Kate.} (catching his arm) No! (confused) I-- I like to see the parson with a pipe, (aside) He mustn't see that! (she points to the inside flap of the case, which is worked with an inscription in silk, and crosses behind Eric to Dormer)
{Eric.} (aside--reading inscription) "Kate's love to Eric." Oh! by Jove, I forgot! (he crams cigar case hurriedly into his pocket; Kate crosses to Dor. L. C. with coat. Eric saunters over to garden seat R. and sits. Kate assists Dor. to put on his coat)
{Eric.} (lazily) I really must give up walking, I'm quite knocked up.
{Dormer.} The British officer seems very easily knocked up.
(Kate gets L., behind table.)
{Eric.} The British officer, at whose expense so many people make merry, is a mild creature in "piping times of peace"--no offence to the clay, parson.
(Eric lights a cigar. Dor. crosses to R., C., to speak to him. Kate looks on anxiously, fearing a quarrel.)
{Dormer.} And in times of war, sir?
{Eric.} The British officer, I am credibly informed, is a demon when roused, (putting his legs up on garden seat) I have never been roused. You don't like my profession, parson?
{Dormer.} No, sir, I do not.
{Eric.} I often wish my mother had made me a parson.
{Dormer.} Why, sir?
{Eric.} Because, sir, a clergyman is the only man in the world privileged to be rude on the subject of another person's calling.
(Kate approaches them.)
{Dormer.} A clergyman, sir, is a professional truth-teller.
{Eric.} I've known a common soldier to be a practical one.
{Dormer.} I recognize no profession which creates idlers.
{Eric.} My dear parson, it is the most industrious people who never really do anything. After all, the bees only make honey--and how exceedingly well everybody could get on without honey.
{Dormer.} An idler, sir, often does mischief against his will!
{Kate.} (laying her hand on his sleeve) Mr. Dormer, don't.
{Dormer.} And brings evil into a region where the very purity of the air nourishes it! Mr. Thorndyke, beware of idling! Miss Verity, beware of idlers. Good-day, sir. (crosses to table L., for hat, and then goes up to archway. Kate gets to R., of him)
{Eric.} (closing his eyes with fatigue) Must you really go? (takes out "Sporting Times")
{Kate.} (soothingly) You'll come again, Mr. Dormer--some day, when Mr. Thorndyke isn't here.
{Dormer.} (in an undertone) If I come again, see that it be then.
{Kate.} What do you mean?
{Dormer.} (putting his hand on her shoulder) Years ago, Kate Verity, I closed one book for ever-- it was called "Woman." As I see the tide ebb and flow, without passion, so I watch a woman in her rise and in her fall with a still heart--they are both beyond me. Mark me, I care no more for you, as a woman, than for the beggars in our High Street; but, for the sake of the charities which stand to the account of one Squire Kate, I throw into the current a small pebble.
{Kate.} (in an undertone) What is that? (keeps her eyes on Eric)
{Dormer.} (pointing in the direction of Eric) Repair those old gates, and keep that young gentleman on the other side of them.
{Kate.} Suppose--I--like the young gentleman?
{Dormer.} If he marries in his mother's lifetime he is a pauper.
{Kate.} I know that.
{Dormer.} What business has he here?
{Kate.} It kills time.
{Dormer.} So does the Racquet Court at Pagley Barracks.
{Kate.} A friend likes a friend better than racquets.
{Dormer.} And a woman likes a lover better than a friend. There, I have thrown my pebble--the tide washes it away.
(Christiana enters from L., carrying mug and a glass of milk; she gives mug to Dormer and places glass on table, waits till Dormer has finished, and then takes mug off with her.)
{Chris.} Will you taste the milk, gentlemen? (Dor. stands L., of table--Chris, goes out as Gunnion enters through archway. Gun. is a very old man, a dirty specimen of the agriculturist, with straggling grey