No More Learning

obeys mechanically and the ceremony proceeds.

PADRE. . . . only unto her as ye both shall live?

Capt. G. (His throat useless. ) Ha-hmmm!

Capt. M. Say you will or you won't. There's no second deal here.

Bride gives response with perfect coolness, and is given away by the
father.

Capt. G. (Thinking to show his learning. ) Jack give me away now, quick!

Capt. M. You've given yourself away quite enough. Her right hand, man!
Repeat! Repeat! "Theodore Philip. " Have you forgotten your own name?

Capt. G. stumbles through Affirmation, which Bride repeats without a
tremor.

Capt. M. Now the ring! Follow the Padre! Don't pull off my glove! Here
it is! Great Cupid, he's found his voice.

Capt. G. repeats Troth in a voice to be heard to the end of the Church
and turns on his heel.

Capt. M. (Desperately. ) Rein back! Back to your troop! 'Tisn't half
legal yet.

PADRE. . . . joined together let no man put asunder.

Capt. G. paralyzed with fear jibs after Blessing.

Capt. M. (Quickly. ) On your own front--one length. Take her with you. I
don't come. You've nothing to say. (Capt. G. jingles up to altar. )

Capt. M. (In a piercing rattle meant to be a whisper. ) Kneel, you
stiff-necked ruffian! Kneel!

PADRE. . . whose daughters are ye so long as ye do well and are not
afraid with any amazement.

Capt. M. Dismiss! Break off! Left wheel!

All troop to vestry. They sign.

Capt. M. Kiss Her, Gaddy.

Capt. G. (Rubbing the ink into his glove. ) Eh! Wha-at?

Capt. M. (Taking one pace to Bride. ) If you don't, I shall.

Capt. G. (Interposing an arm. ) Not this journey!

General kissing, in which Capt. G. is pursued by unknown female.

Capt. G. (Faintly to M. ) This is Hades! Can I wipe my face now?

Capt. M. My responsibility has ended. Better ask Misses GADSBY.

Capt. G. winces as though shot and procession is Mendelssohned out of
Church to house, where usual tortures take place over the wedding-cake.

Capt. M. (At table. ) Up with you, Gaddy. They expect a speech.

Capt. G. (After three minutes' agony. ) Ha-hmmm. (Thunders Of applause. )

Capt. M. Doocid good, for a first attempt. Now go and change your kit
while Mamma is weeping over "the Missus. " (Capt. G. disappears. Capt. M.
starts up tearing his hair. ) It's not half legal. Where are the shoes?
Get an ayah.

AYAH. Missie Captain Sahib done gone band karo all the jutis.

Capt. M. (Brandishing scab larded sword. ) Woman, produce those shoes!
Some one lend me a bread-knife. We mustn't crack Gaddy's head more than
it is. (Slices heel off white satin slipper and puts slipper up his
sleeve. )

Where is the Bride? (To the company at large. ) Be tender with that rice.
It's a heathen custom. Give me the big bag.

* * * * *

Bride slips out quietly into 'rickshaw and departs toward the sunset.

Capt. M. (In the open. ) Stole away, by Jove! So much the worse for
Gaddy! Here he is. Now Gaddy, this'll be livelier than Amdberan! Where's
your horse?

Capt. G. (Furiously, seeing that the women are out of an earshot. ) Where
the d----'s my Wife?

Capt. M. Half-way to Mahasu by this time. You'll have to ride like Young
Lochinvar.

Horse comes round on his hind legs; refuses to let G. handle him.

Capt. G. Oh you will, will you? Get 'round, you brute--you hog--you
beast! Get round!

Wrenches horse's head over, nearly breaking lower jaw: swings himself
into saddle, and sends home both spurs in the midst of a spattering gale
of Best Patna.

Capt. M. For your life and your love--ride, Gaddy--And God bless you!

Throws half a pound of rice at G. who disappears, bowed forward on the
saddle, in a cloud of sunlit dust.

Capt. M. I've lost old Gaddy. (Lights cigarette and strolls off, singing
absently):--"You may carve it on his tombstone, you may cut it on his
card, That a young man married is a young man marred! "

Miss DEERCOURT. (From her horse. ) Really, Captain Mafflin! You are more
plain spoken than polite!

Capt. M. (Aside. ) They say marriage is like cholera. 'Wonder who'll be
the next victim.

White satin slipper slides from his sleeve and falls at his feet. Left
wondering.




THE GARDEN OF EDEN

And ye shall be as--Gods!

SCENE. Thymy grass-plot at back of the Mahasu dak-bungalow, overlooking
little wooded valley. On the left, glimpse of the Dead Forest of Fagoo;
on the right, Simla Hills. In background, line of the Snows. CAPTAIN
GADSBY, now three weeks a husband, is smoking the pipe of peace on a
rug in the sunshine. Banjo and tobacco-pouch on rug.
Overhead the Fagoo
eagles. Mrs. G. comes out of bungalow.

Mrs. G. My husband!

Capt. G. (Lazily, with intense enjoyment. ) Eh, wha-at? Say that again.

Mrs. G. I've written to Mamma and told her that we shall be back on the
17th.

Capt. G. Did you give her my love?

Mrs. G. No, I kept all that for myself. (Sitting down by his side. ) I
thought you wouldn't mind.

Capt. G. (With mock sternness. ) I object awf'ly. How did you know that
it was yours to keep?

Mrs. G. I guessed, Phil.

Capt. G. (Rapturously. ) Lit-tle Featherweight!

Mrs. G. I won' t be called those sporting pet names, bad boy.

Capt. G. You'll be called anything I choose. Has it ever occurred to
you, Madam, that you are my Wife?

Mrs. G. It has. I haven't ceased wondering at it yet.

Capt. G. Nor I. It seems so strange; and yet, somehow, it doesn't.
(Confidently. ) You see, it could have been no one else.

Mrs. G. (Softly. ) No. No one else--for me or for you. It must have been
all arranged from the beginning. Phil, tell me again what made you care
for me.

Capt. G. How could I help it? You were you, you know.

Mrs. G. Did you ever want to help it? Speak the truth!

Capt. G. (A twinkle in his eye. ) I did, darling, just at the first. Rut
only at the very first. (Chuckles. ) I called you--stoop low and I'll
whisper--"a little beast. " Ho! Ho! Ho!

Mrs. G. (Taking him by the moustache and making him sit up. )
"A-little-beast! " Stop laughing over your crime! And yet you had
the--the--awful cheek to propose to me!

Capt. C. I'd changed my mind then. And you weren't a little beast any
more.

Mrs. G. Thank you, sir! And when was I ever?

Capt. G. Never! But that first day, when you gave me tea in that
peach-colored muslin gown thing, you looked--you did indeed, dear--such
an absurd little mite. And I didn't know what to say to you.

Mrs. G. (Twisting moustache. ) So you said "little beast. " Upon my word,
Sir! I called you a "Crrrreature," but I wish now I had called you
something worse.

Capt. G. (Very meekly. ) I apologize, but you're hurting me awf'ly.
(Interlude. ) You're welcome to torture me again on those terms.

Mrs. G. Oh, why did you let me do it?

Capt. G. (Looking across valley. ) No reason in particular, but--if it
amused you or did you any good--you might--wipe those dear little boots
of yours on me.

Mrs. G. (Stretching out her hands. ) Don't! Oh, don't! Philip, my King,
please don't talk like that. It's how I feel. You're so much too good
for me. So much too good!

Capt. G. Me! I'm not fit to put my arm around you. (Puts it round. )

Mrs. C. Yes, you are. But I--what have I ever done?

Capt. G. Given me a wee bit of your heart, haven't you, my Queen!

Mrs. G. That's nothing. Any one would do that. They cou--couldn'thelp
it.

Capt. G. Pussy, you'll make me horribly conceited. Just when I was
beginning to feel so humble, too.

Mrs. G. Humble! I don't believe it's in your character.

Capt. G. What do you know of my character, Impertinence?

Mrs. G. Ah, but I shall, shan't I, Phil? I shall have time in all the
years and years to come, to know everything about you; and there will be
no secrets between us.

Capt. G. Little witch! I believe you know me thoroughly already.

Mrs. G. I think I can guess. You're selfish?

Capt. G. Yes.

Mrs. G. Foolish?

Capt. G. Very.

Mrs. G. And a dear?

Capt. G. That is as my lady pleases.

Mrs. G. Then your lady is pleased. (A pause. ) D'you know that we're two
solemn, serious, grown-up people--

Capt. G. (Tilting her straw hat over her eyes. ) You grown-up! Pooh!
You're a baby.

Mrs. G. And we're talking nonsense.

Capt. G. Then let's go on talking nonsense. I rather like it. Pussy,
I'll tell you a secret. Promise not to repeat?

Mrs. G. Ye-es.