The Title | Page 6

your Medical Board
this morning?

TRANTO. How marvellous of you to remember that I had a Medical
Board this morning! I believe I've found out your secret, Mrs.
Culver--you're undergoing a course of Pelman with those sixty generals
and forty admirals. Well, the Medical Board have given me a new
complaint. You'll be sorry to hear that I'm deformed.
MRS. CULVER. Not deformed!
TRANTO. Yes. It appears I'm flat-footed. (Extending his leg.) Have I
ever told you that I had a dashing military career extending over four
months, three of which I spent in hospital for a disease I hadn't got?
Then I was discharged as unfit. After a year they raked me in again.
Since then I've been boarded five times, and on the unimpeachable
authority of various R.A.M.C. Colonels I've been afflicted with
valvular disease of the heart, incipient tuberculosis, rickets, varicose
veins, diabetes--practically everything, except spotted fever and leprosy.
And now flat feet are added to all the rest. Even the Russian collapse
and the transfer of the entire German army to the Western Front hasn't
raised me higher than C 3.
MRS. CULVER. How annoying for you! You might have risen to be a
captain by this time.
HILDEGARDE (_reflectively_). No doubt, in a home unit. But if he'd
gone to the Front he would still have been a second lieutenant.
MRS. CULVER. My dear!
TRANTO. Whereas in fact I'm still one of those able-bodied young
shirkers in mufti that patriotic old gentlemen in clubs are always
writing to my uncles' papers about.
MRS. CULVER. Please! please! (_A slight pause; pulling herself
together; cheerfully_.) Let me see, you were going in for Siege
Artillery, weren't you?
TRANTO. Me! Siege Artillery. My original ambition was trench
mortars--not so noisy.

MRS. CULVER (_simply_). Oh! Then it must have been somebody
else who was talking to me about Siege Artillery. I understand it's very
scientific--all angles and degrees and wind-pressures and things. John
will soon be eighteen, and his father and I want him to be really useful
in the Army. We don't want him to be thrown away. He has brains, and
so we are thinking of Siege Artillery for him.
(During this speech John _has entered, in evening dress_.)
JOHN. Are you on Siege again, mater? The mater's keen on Siege
because she's heard somewhere it's the safest thing there is.
MRS. CULVER. And if it does happen to be the safest--what then?
TRANTO. I suppose you're all for the Flying Corps, John?
JOHN (_with condescension_). Not specially. Since one of the old boys
came and did looping the loop stunts over the school the whole Fifth
has gone mad on the R.F.C. Most fellows are just like sheep. Somebody
in the Sixth has to be original. I want to fight as much as any chap with
wings across his chest, but I've got my private career to think of too. If
you ask me, the mater's had a brain-wave for once.
Enter Mr. Culver, _back. He stands a moment at the door, surveying
the scene_. Mrs. Culver _springs up, and_ Tranto _also rises, moving
towards the door_.
MRS. CULVER. Arthur, have you come?
CULVER (_advancing a little_). Apparently. Hello, Tranto, glad to see
you. I wanted to. (Shakes hands with Tranto.)
MRS. CULVER. What's the matter, Arthur?
CULVER. Everything.
MRS. CULVER (_alarmed, but carefully coaxing_). Why are you
wearing your velvet coat? (To Tranto.) He always puts on his velvet
coat instead of dressing when something's gone wrong. (To Mr. Culver.)

Have you got neuralgia again?
CULVER. I don't think so.
MRS. CULVER. But surely you must know! You look terribly pale.
CULVER. The effect of the velvet coat, my dear--nicely calculated in
advance.
MRS. CULVER (_darting at him, holding him by the shoulders, and
then kissing him violently. With an intonation of affectionate protest_).
Darling!
JOHN. Oh! I say, mater, look here!
MRS. CULVER (to Culver, _still holding him_). I'm very annoyed
with you. It's perfectly absurd the way you work. (To Tranto.) Do you
know he was at the office all day Christmas Day and all day Boxing
Day? (To Culver.) You really must take a holiday.
CULVER. But what about the war, darling?
MRS. CULVER (_loosing him_). Oh! You're always making the war
an excuse. I know what I shall do. I shall just go--
CULVER. Yes, darling, just go and suggest a short armistice to the
Germans while you take me to Brighton for a week's fondling.
MRS. CULVER. I shall just speak to Miss Starkey. Strange that the
wife, in order to influence the husband, should have to appeal to
(_disdainfully_) the lady secretary! But so it is.
CULVER. Hermione, I must beg you not to interfere between Miss
Starkey and me. Interference will upset Miss Starkey, and I cannot
stand her being upset.