Delphi Complete Works of Jerome K. Jerome (Illustrated) (Series Four) (322 page)

PHOEBE [At door.] You’ll be alone this evening?

ANNYS Yes. Come in to dinner.

PHOEBE All right. Goodbye.

ST. HERBERT Goodbye.

[GEOFFREY and ANNYS answer them. They go out, closing the door.
GEOFFREY is by the fire. ANNYS comes to him.]

ANNYS [She puts her arms round him.] You don’t mind?

GEOFFREY [He holds her at arms’ length — looking into her eyes and smiling.] I believe you are looking forward to it.

ANNYS Do you know how long we have been married? Eight years. And do you know, sir, that all that time we have never had a difference? Don’t you think it will be good for you?

GEOFFREY Do you know WHY we have never had a difference? Because you have always had your own way.

ANNYS Oh!

GEOFFREY You have got so used to it, you don’t notice it.

ANNYS Then it will be good for me. I must learn to suffer opposition. [She laughs.]

GEOFFREY You won’t like it.

ANNYS Do you know, I’m not at all sure that I shan’t. [Unconsciously they let loose of one another.] You see, I shall have the right of hitting back. [Again she laughs.]

GEOFFREY [Also laughingly.] Is woman going to develop the fighting instinct?

ANNYS I wonder.

[A moment’s silence.]

GEOFFREY The difficulty in our case is there seems nothing to fight about.

ANNYS We must think of something. [Laughs.]

GEOFFREY What line are you going to take — what is your argument: why they should vote for you in preference to me?

ANNYS Simply that I am a woman.

GEOFFREY My dear child, that won’t be enough. Why should they vote for you merely because you’re a woman?

ANNYS [Slightly astonished.] Because — because women are wanted in public life.

GEOFFREY Who wants them?

ANNYS [More astonished.] Who? Why — [it doesn’t seem too clear.]
Why, all of us — you, yourself!

GEOFFREY I’m not East Poplar.

ANNYS [Is puzzled a moment, then valiantly.] I shall ask them to send me to Parliament to represent the interests of their women — and therefore of themselves — the interests of their children.

GEOFFREY Children! What do you know about children?

[Another silence.]

ANNYS Personally — no. We have had no children of our own, of course. But [hopefully] it is a woman’s instinct.

GEOFFREY Oh, Lord! That’s what the lady said who had buried seven.

ANNYS [Her mouth is growing hard.] Don’t you believe in the right of women to share in the government of the country?

GEOFFREY Some women. Yes. I can see some capable -

ANNYS [Winces.]

GEOFFREY — elderly, motherly woman who has brought up a dozen children of her own — who knows the world, being of some real use.

ANNYS If it comes to that, there must be — I don’t say more “capable,” but more experienced, more fatherly men than yourself.

[He turns, they look at one another. His tone almost touched contempt — hers was veiled anger.]

GEOFFREY THAT’S the danger. It may come to a real fight.

ANNYS [Upon her also the fear has fallen.] It must not. [She flings her arms around him.] We must show the world that man and woman can meet — contend in public life without anger, without scorn.

GEOFFREY [He folds her to him.] The very words sound ugly, don’t they?

ANNYS It would be hideous. [She draws away.] How long will the election last?

GEOFFREY Not long. The writ will be issued on Wednesday. Nomination on Monday — polling, I expect, on Saturday. Puts me in mind — I must prepare my election address.

ANNYS I ought to be getting on with mine, too, I suppose.

GEOFFREY It ought to be out by to-morrow.

ANNYS [With inspiration.] We’ll do yours first. [She wonders why he hesitates.]

GEOFFREY “We?” Shan’t I have to do it alone — this time?

ANNYS Alone! Nonsense! How can you?

GEOFFREY I’m afraid I shall have to try.

ANNYS Um! I suppose you’re right. What a nuisance! [She turns away.] I shan’t like it.

GEOFFREY [He moves towards the folding-doors.] No. It won’t be quite the same thing. Goodbye.

ANNYS [She crosses to her desk by the window. Not the same instant but the next his “Goodbye” strikes her. She turns.] You’re not going out, are you?

GEOFFREY [He stops and turns — puzzled at her question.] No. Only into my study.

ANNYS You said “Goodbye.”

GEOFFREY [Not remembering.]
I
did! Must have been thinking of something else. I shall be in here if you want me. [He goes into the other room.]

ANNYS [She has crossed to her desk. She is humming. She seats herself, takes paper and pen, writes. Without turning — still writing — she raises her voice.] Geoffrey! How do you spell “experimental”? One “r” or two?

[There is no answer. Puzzled at the silence, she looks round. The great folding-doors are closed. She stares in front of her, thinking, then turns again to her work.]

CURTAIN.

THE SECOND ACT

SCENE:- Liberal Central Committee Rooms, East India Dock Road, Poplar. A large, high room on the first floor of an old-fashioned house. Two high windows right. A door at back is the main entrance. A door left leads to other rooms. The walls are papered with election literature. Conspicuous among the posters displayed is “A Man for Men.” “No Petticoat Government.” “Will you be Henpecked?” A large, round table centre is littered with papers and pamphlets. A large desk stands between the windows. A settee is against the left wall.

[When the curtain rises, ROSE MERTON (otherwise “GINGER”) is discovered seated, her left arm resting on the table. She is a young lady typical of the Cockney slavey type, dressed according to the ideas of her class as regards the perfect lady. Her hat is characteristic. Her gloves, her reticule, her umbrella — the latter something rather “saucy” — are displayed around her. She is feeling comfortable and airing her views. MRS. CHINN is laying the cloth over a portion of the table, with some tea-things. MRS. CHINN is a thin, narrow-chested lady with thin hands and bony wrists. No one since her husband died has ever seen her without her bonnet. Its appearance suggests the possibility that she sleeps in it. It is black, like her dress. The whole figure is decent, but dingy.]

GINGER Wot I say about the question is -

MRS. CHINN Do you mind moving your arm?

GINGER Beg pardon. [She shifts.] Wot I say is, why not give us the vote and end all the talking?

MRS. CHINN You think it would have that effect?

GINGER Well! we don’t want to go on being a nuisance — longer than we can possibly ‘elp!

MRS. CHINN Daresay you’re right. It’s about the time most people stop.

GINGER You’ve never thought much about the question yourself, ‘ave you, Mrs. Chinn?

MRS. CHINN I ain’t fretted much about it.

GINGER Was a time when I didn’t. I used to be all for — you know — larking about. I never thought much about anything.

MRS. CHINN Ah! it’s a useful habit.

GINGER What is?

MRS. CHINN Thinking.

GINGER It’s what we women ‘aven’t done enough of — in the past, I mean. All that’s going to be altered. In the future there’s going to be no difference between men and women.

MRS. CHINN [Slowly, quietly she turns upon GINGER her expressionless eyes.]

GINGER Mentally, I mean, o’ course.

MRS. CHINN [Takes back her eyes.]

GINGER Do you know, Mrs. Chinn, that once upon a time there was only one sex? [She spreads herself.] Hus!

MRS. CHINN You ain’t thinking of going back to it, are you?

GINGER Not if the men be’ave themselves.

MRS. CHINN Perhaps they’re doing their best, poor things! It don’t do to be too impatient with them.

GINGER Was talking to old Dot-and-carry-one the other d’y. You know who I mean — chap with the wooden leg as ‘as ‘is pitch outside the “George.” “Wot do you wimmen want worrying yourselves about things outside the ‘ome?” ‘e says to me. “You’ve got the children,” ‘e says. “Oh,” I says, “and whose fault’s that, I’d like to know? You wait till we’ve got the vote,” I says, “we’ll soon show you—”

[SIGSBY enters. SIGSBY is a dapper little man, very brisk and bustling — hirsute — looks as if he wanted dusting, cleaning up generally.]

SIGSBY That young blackguard come back yet?

GINGER [At sound of SIGSBY’S voice she springs up. At first is about to offer excuses for being found seated, but recollects herself.]

MRS. CHINN Which one, sir?

SIGSBY Young Jawbones — what’s he call himself? — Gordon.

MRS. CHINN Not yet, sir.

SIGSBY [Grunts.] My chop ready?

MRS. CHINN I expect it’s about done. I’ll see.

[She goes out.]

SIGSBY [He turns to GINGER.] What can
I
do for you?

GINGER [She produces a letter.] I was to wait for an answer.

SIGSBY [He opens and reads it.] What do they expect me to do?

GINGER ‘Er ladyship thought as perhaps you would consult Mr.
Chilvers ‘imself on the subject.

SIGSBY Look here. What I want to know is this: am I being asked to regard Lady Mogton as my opponent’s election agent, or as my principal’s mother-in-law? That point’s got to be settled. [His vehemence deepens.] Look at all these posters. Not to be used, for fear the other side mayn’t like them. Now Lady Mogton writes me that my candidate’s supporters are not to employ a certain argument she disapproves of: because, if they do, she’ll tell his wife. Is this an election, or is it a family jar?

[JAWBONES enters. JAWBONES — otherwise WILLIAM GORDON — is a clean- shaven young hooligan. He wears a bicycle cap on the back of his head, allowing a picturesque tuft of hair to fall over his forehead. Evidently he is suffering from controlled indignation.]

SIGSBY [Seeing him.] Oh, so you’ve come back, have you?

JAWBONES I ‘ave, wot’s left of me.

SIGSBY What have you been doing?

JAWBONES Clinging to a roof for the last three hours.

SIGSBY Clinging to a roof! What for?

JAWBONES [He boils over.] Wot for? ‘Cos I didn’t want to fall off! Wot do you think: ‘cos I was fond of it?

SIGSBY I don’t understand -

JAWBONES You find yourself ‘alf way up a ladder, posting bills as the other side ‘as took objection to — with a crowd of girls from Pink’s jam factory waiting for you at the bottom with a barrel of treacle, and you WILL understand. Nothing else for me to do, o’ course, but to go up. Then they took the ladder away.

SIGSBY Where are the bills?

JAWBONES Last I see of them was their being put into a ‘earse on its way to Ilford Cemetery.

SIGSBY This has got to be seen into. This sort of thing can’t be allowed to go on. [He snatches up his hat.]

JAWBONES There’s another suggestion I’d like to make.

SIGSBY [Pauses.]

JAWBONES That is, if this election is going to be fought fairly, that our side should be provided with ‘at-pins.

SIGSBY [Grunts.] Tell Mrs. Chinn to keep that chop warm. [He goes out.]

GINGER [She begins to giggle. It grows into a shrill hee-haw.]

JAWBONES [He looks at her fixedly.]

GINGER [Her laugh, under the stern eye of JAWBONES, dies away.]

JAWBONES Ain’t no crowd of you ‘ere, you know. Nothing but my inborn chivalry to prevent my pulling your nose.

GINGER [Cowed, but simmering.] Chivalry! [A shrill snort.]

JAWBONES Yus. And don’t you put a strain upon it neither.
Because I tell you straight, it’s weakening.

GINGER [His sudden fierceness has completely cowed her.]

JAWBONES You wimmin -

[There re-enters Mrs. CHINN with a tray. He is between them.]

That’s old Sigsby’s chop?

MRS. CHINN Yes. He hasn’t gone out again, has he?

JAWBONES I’ll ‘ave it. Get ‘im another. Guess ‘e won’t be back for ‘alf an hour.

MRS. CHINN He’s nasty when his food ain’t ready.

JAWBONES [He takes the tray from her.] Not your fault. Tell ‘im
I took it from you by brute force.

MRS. CHINN [She acquiesces with her usual even absence of all emotion.]

JAWBONES You needn’t stop. Miss Rose Merton will do the waiting.

GINGER [Starts, then begins to collect her etceteras.]

MRS. CHINN Perhaps there’ll be time to cook him another.

[She goes out.]

JAWBONES Take off that cover.

GINGER [She starts on a bolt for the door.]

JAWBONES [He is quite prepared. In an instant he is in front of her.] No, yer don’t.

[A pause.]