The Story of the Gadsby | Page 7

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 out up above.
MACKESY. (Barrister-at-Law.) Huh! Women will give out anything. What does accused say?
BLAYNE. Markyn told me that he congratulated him warily-one hand held out, t'other ready to guard. Gandy turned pink and said it was so.
CURTISS. Poor old Caddy! They all do it. Who's she? Let's hear the details.
BLAYNE. She's a girl-daughter of a Colonel Somebody.
DOONE. Simla's stiff with Colonels' daughters. Be more explicit.
BLAYNE. Wait a shake. What was her name? Thresomething. Three-
CURTISS. Stars, perhaps. Caddy knows that brand.
BLAYNE. Threegan-Minnie Threegan.
MACKESY. Threegan Isn't she a little bit of a girl with red hair?
BLAYNE. 'Bout that-from what from what Markyn said.
MACKESY. Then I've met her. She was at Lucknow last season. 'Owned a permanently juvenile Mamma, and danced damnably. I say, Jervoise, you knew the Threegans, didn't you?
JERVOISE. (Civilian of twenty-five years' service, waking up from his doze.) Eh? What's that? Knew who? How? I thought I was at Home, confound you!
MACKESY. The Threegan girl's engaged, so Blayne says.
JERVOISE. (Slowly.) Engaged-en-gaged! Bless my soul! I'm getting an old man! Little Minnie Threegan engaged. It was only the other day I went home with them in the Surat-no, the Massilia- and she was crawling about on her hands and knees among the ayahs. 'Used to call me the "Tick Tack Sakib" because I showed her my watch. And that was in Sixty-Seven-no, Seventy. Good God, how time flies!