The Story of the Gadsby | Page 7

pass into the front veranda.)
CAPT. G. (Aside.) How the dickens should I know what she prefers?
She told me that she doted on horses. (Aloud.) I think it is.
Miss T. (Coming out into front veranda.) Oh! Bad Buldoo! I must
speak to him for this. He has taken up the curb two links, and
Vermillion bates that. (Passes out and to horse's head.)
CAPT. G. Let me do it!
Miss. T. No, Vermillion understands me. Don't you, old man? (Looses
curb-chain skilfully, and pats horse on nose and throttle.) Poor
Vermillion! Did they want to cut his chin off? There!

Captain Gadsby watches the interlude with undisguised admiration.
POOR DEAR MAMMA. (Tartly to Miss T.) You've forgotten your
guest, I think, dear.
Miss T. Good gracious! So I have! Good-bye. (Retreats indoors
hastily.)
POOR DEAR MAMMA. (Bunching reins in fingers hampered by too
tight gauntlets.) CAPTAIN Gadsby!
CAPTAIN GADSBY stoops and makes the foot-rest. POOR DEAR
MAMMA blunders, halts too long, and breaks through it.
CAPT. G. (Aside.) Can't hold up even stone forever. It's all your
rheumatism. (Aloud.) Can't imagine why I was so clumsy. (Aside.)
Now Little Featherweight would have gone up like a bird.
They ride oat of the garden. The Captain falls back.
CAPT. G. (Aside.) How that habit catches her under the arms! Ugh!
POOR DEAR MAMMA. (With the worn smile of sixteen seasons, the
worse for exchange.) You're dull this afternoon, CAPTAIN Gadsby.
CAPT. G. (Spurring up wearily.) Why did you keep me waiting so
long?
Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
(AN INTERVAL OF THREE WEEKS.)
GILDED YOUTH. (Sitting on railings opposite Town Hall.) Hullo,
Gandy! 'Been trotting out the Gorgonzola! We all thought it was the
Gorgan you're mashing.
CAPT. G. (With withering emphasis.) You young cub! What the- does
it matter to you?

Proceeds to read GILDED YOUTH a lecture on discretion and
deportment, which crumbles latter like a Chinese Lantern. Departs
fuming.
(FURTHER INTERVAL OF FIVE WEEKS.) SCENE.-Exterior of
New Simla Library
on a foggy evening. Miss THREECAN and Miss DEERCOURT meet
among the 'rickshaws. Miss T. is carrying a bundle of books under her
left arm.
Miss D. (Level intonation.) Well?
Miss 'I'. (Ascending intonation.) Well?
Miss D. (Capturing her friend's left arm, taking away all the books,
placing books in 'rickshaw, returning to arm, securing hand by third
finger and investigating.) Well! You bad girl! And you never told me.
Miss T. (Demurely.) He-he-he only spoke yesterday afternoon.
Miss D. Bless you, dear! And I'm to be bridesmaid, aren't I? You know
you promised ever so long ago.
Miss T. Of course. I'll tell you all about it to-morrow. (Gets into
'rickshaw.) O Emma!
Miss D. (With intense interest.) Yes, dear?
Miss T. (Piano.) It's quite true- - - about-the-egg.
Miss D. What egg?
Miss T. (Pianissimo prestissimo.) The egg without the salt. (Porte.)
Chalo ghar ko jaldi, jhampani! (Go home, jhampani.)
THE WORLD WITHOUT
Certain people of importance.

SCENE.-Smoking-room of the Degchi Club. Time, 10.30 P. M. of a
stuffy night in the Rains. Four men dispersed in picturesque attitudes
and easy-chairs. To these enter BLAYNE of the Irregular Moguls, in
evening dress.
BLAYNE. Phew! The Judge ought to be hanged in his own
store-godown. Hi, khitmatgarl Poora whiskey-peg, to take the taste out
of my mouth.
CURTISS. (Royal Artillery.) That's it, is it? What the deuce made you
dine at the Judge's? You know his bandobust.
BLAYNE. 'Thought it couldn't be worse than the Club, but I'll swear he
buys ullaged liquor and doctors it with gin and ink (looking round the
room.) Is this all of you to-night?
DOONE. (P.W.D.) Anthony was called out at dinner. Mingle had a
pain in his tummy.
CURTISS. Miggy dies of cholera once a week in the Rains, and gets
drunk on chlorodyne in between. 'Good little chap, though. Any one at
the Judge's, Blayne?
BLAYNE. Cockley and his memsahib looking awfully white and
fagged. 'F('.male girl-couldn't catch the name-on her way to the Hills,
under the Cockleys' charge-the Judge, and Markyn fresh from
Simla-disgustingly fit.
CURTISS. Good Lord, how truly magnificent! Was there enough ice?
When I mangled garbage there I got one whole lump-nearly as big as a
walnut. What had Markyn to say for himself?
BLAYNE. 'Seems that every one is having a fairly good time up there
in spite of the rain. By Jove, that reminds me! I know I hadn't come
across just for the pleasure of your society. News! Great news! Markyn
told me.
DOONE. Who's dead now?

BLAYNE. No one that I know of; but Gandy's hooked at last!
DROPPING CHORUS. How much? The Devil! Markyn was pulling
your leg. Not GANDY!
BLAYNE. (Humming.) "Yea, verily, verily, verily! Verily, verily, I say
unto thee." Theodore, the gift o' God! Our Phillup! It's been given