You know
you promised ever so long ago.
you promised ever so long ago.
Kipling - Poems
) Now what in the world am I saying?
Miss T. Very well. You will have only yourself to thank if your toes are
trodden on. Shall we say Seven?
Capt. G. And Eleven. (Aside. ) She can't be more than eight stone, but,
even then, it's an absurdly small foot. (Looks at his own riding boots. )
Miss T. They're beautifully shiny. I can almost see my face in them.
Capt. G. I was thinking whether I should have to go on crutches for the
rest of my life if you trod on my toes.
Miss T. Very likely. Why not change Eleven for a square?
Capt. G. No, please! I want them both waltzes. Won't you write them
down?
Miss T. I don't get so many dances that I shall confuse them. You will
be the offender.
Capt. G. Wait and see! (Aside. ) She doesn't dance perfectly, perhaps,
but--
Miss T. Your tea must have got cold by this time. Won't you have another
cup?
Capt. G. No, thanks. Don't you think it's pleasanter out in the veranda?
(Aside. ) I never saw hair take that color in the sunshine before.
(Aloud. ) It's like one of Dicksee's pictures.
Miss T. Yes I It's a wonderful sunset, isn't it? (Bluntly. ) But what do
you know about Dicksee's pictures?
Capt. G. I go Home occasionally. And I used to know the Galleries.
(Nervously. ) You mustn't think me only a Philistine with a moustache.
Miss T. Don't! Please don't. I'm so sorry for what I said then. I was
horribly rude. It slipped out before j thought. Don't you know the
temptation to say frightful and shocking things just for the mere sake
of saying them? I'm afraid I gave way to it.
Capt. G. (Watching the girl as she flushes. ) I think I know the feeling.
It would be terrible if we all yielded to it, wouldn't it? For instance,
I might say--
POOR DEAR MAMMA. (Entering, habited, hatted, and booted. ) Ah, Captain
Gamsby? 'Sorry to keep you waiting. 'Hope you haven't been bored. 'My
little girl been talking to you?
Miss T. (Aside. ) I'm not sorry I spoke about the rheumatism. I'm not!
I'm NOT! I only wished I'd mentioned the corns too.
Capt. G. (Aside. ) What a shame! I wonder how old she is. It never
occurred to me before. (Aloud. ) We've been discussing 'Shakespeare and
the musical glasses' in the veranda.
Miss T. (Aside. ) Nice man! He knows that quotation. He isn't a
Philistine with a moustache. (Aloud. ) Goodbye, Captain Gadsby. (Aside. )
What a huge hand and what a squeeze! I don't suppose he meant it, but he
has driven the rings into my fingers.
Poor Dear Mamma. Has Vermillion come round yet? Oh, yes! Captain Gadsby,
don't you think that the saddle is too far forward? (They 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? (Loosens
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! Goodbye. (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 seven 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 out 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, Gadsby!
'Been trotting out the Gorgonzola! We all thought it was the Gorgon
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 THREEGAN 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 T. (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 tomorrow. (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. (Forte. )
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,
khitmatgar! Pour a 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 tonight?
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.
Female girl--couldn'tcatch 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'tcome 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 Gadsby's hooked at last!
DROPPING CHORUS. How much? The Devil! Markyn was pulling your leg. Not
GADSBY!
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. Gadsby 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 Sahib" because I showed her my watch. And that was in
Sixty-Seven--no, Seventy. Good God, how time flies! I'm an old man.
I remember when Threegan married Miss Derwent--daughter of old Hooky
Derwent--but that was before your time. And so the little baby's engaged
to have a little baby of her own! Who's the other fool?
Mackesy. Gadsby of the Pink Hussars.
Jervoise. 'Never met him. Threegan lived in debt, married in debt,
and'll die in debt. 'Must be glad to get the girl off his hands.
Blayne. Caddy has money--lucky devil. Place at Home, too.
Doone. He comes of first-class stock. 'Can't quite understand his being
caught by a Colonel's daughter, and (looking cautiously round room. )
Black Infantry at that! No offence to you, Blayne.
Blayne. (Stiffly. ) Not much, thaanks.
Curtiss. (Quoting motto of Irregular Moguls. ) "We are what we are," eh,
old man? But Gadsby was such a superior animal as a rule. Why didn't he
go Home and pick his wife there?
Mackesy. They are all alike when they come to the turn into the
straight. About thirty a man begins to get sick of living alone.
Curtiss. And of the eternal mutton--chop in the morning.
Doone. It's a dead goat as a rule, but go on, Mackesy.
Mackesy. If a man's once taken that way nothing will hold him, Do you
remember Benoit of your service, Doone? They transferred him to Tharanda
when his time came, and he married a platelayer's daughter, or something
of that kind. She was the only female about the place.
Doone. Yes, poor brute. That smashed Benoit's chances of promotion
altogether. Mrs. Benoit used to ask "Was you goin' to the dance this
evenin'? "
Curtiss. Hang it all! Gadsby hasn't married beneath him. There's no
tar-brush in the family, I suppose.
Jervoise. Tar-brush! Not an anna. You young fellows talk as though
the man was doing the girl an honor in marrying her. You're all too
conceited--nothing's good enough for you.
Blayne. Not even an empty Club, a dam' bad dinner at the Judge's, and
a Station as sickly as a hospital. You're quite right. We're a set of
Sybarites.
Doone. Luxurious dogs, wallowing in--
Curtiss. Prickly heat between the shoulders. I'm covered with it. Let's
hope Beora will be cooler.
Blayne. Whew! Are you ordered into camp, too?
Miss T. Very well. You will have only yourself to thank if your toes are
trodden on. Shall we say Seven?
Capt. G. And Eleven. (Aside. ) She can't be more than eight stone, but,
even then, it's an absurdly small foot. (Looks at his own riding boots. )
Miss T. They're beautifully shiny. I can almost see my face in them.
Capt. G. I was thinking whether I should have to go on crutches for the
rest of my life if you trod on my toes.
Miss T. Very likely. Why not change Eleven for a square?
Capt. G. No, please! I want them both waltzes. Won't you write them
down?
Miss T. I don't get so many dances that I shall confuse them. You will
be the offender.
Capt. G. Wait and see! (Aside. ) She doesn't dance perfectly, perhaps,
but--
Miss T. Your tea must have got cold by this time. Won't you have another
cup?
Capt. G. No, thanks. Don't you think it's pleasanter out in the veranda?
(Aside. ) I never saw hair take that color in the sunshine before.
(Aloud. ) It's like one of Dicksee's pictures.
Miss T. Yes I It's a wonderful sunset, isn't it? (Bluntly. ) But what do
you know about Dicksee's pictures?
Capt. G. I go Home occasionally. And I used to know the Galleries.
(Nervously. ) You mustn't think me only a Philistine with a moustache.
Miss T. Don't! Please don't. I'm so sorry for what I said then. I was
horribly rude. It slipped out before j thought. Don't you know the
temptation to say frightful and shocking things just for the mere sake
of saying them? I'm afraid I gave way to it.
Capt. G. (Watching the girl as she flushes. ) I think I know the feeling.
It would be terrible if we all yielded to it, wouldn't it? For instance,
I might say--
POOR DEAR MAMMA. (Entering, habited, hatted, and booted. ) Ah, Captain
Gamsby? 'Sorry to keep you waiting. 'Hope you haven't been bored. 'My
little girl been talking to you?
Miss T. (Aside. ) I'm not sorry I spoke about the rheumatism. I'm not!
I'm NOT! I only wished I'd mentioned the corns too.
Capt. G. (Aside. ) What a shame! I wonder how old she is. It never
occurred to me before. (Aloud. ) We've been discussing 'Shakespeare and
the musical glasses' in the veranda.
Miss T. (Aside. ) Nice man! He knows that quotation. He isn't a
Philistine with a moustache. (Aloud. ) Goodbye, Captain Gadsby. (Aside. )
What a huge hand and what a squeeze! I don't suppose he meant it, but he
has driven the rings into my fingers.
Poor Dear Mamma. Has Vermillion come round yet? Oh, yes! Captain Gadsby,
don't you think that the saddle is too far forward? (They 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? (Loosens
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! Goodbye. (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 seven 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 out 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, Gadsby!
'Been trotting out the Gorgonzola! We all thought it was the Gorgon
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 THREEGAN 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 T. (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 tomorrow. (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. (Forte. )
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,
khitmatgar! Pour a 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 tonight?
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.
Female girl--couldn'tcatch 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'tcome 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 Gadsby's hooked at last!
DROPPING CHORUS. How much? The Devil! Markyn was pulling your leg. Not
GADSBY!
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. Gadsby 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 Sahib" because I showed her my watch. And that was in
Sixty-Seven--no, Seventy. Good God, how time flies! I'm an old man.
I remember when Threegan married Miss Derwent--daughter of old Hooky
Derwent--but that was before your time. And so the little baby's engaged
to have a little baby of her own! Who's the other fool?
Mackesy. Gadsby of the Pink Hussars.
Jervoise. 'Never met him. Threegan lived in debt, married in debt,
and'll die in debt. 'Must be glad to get the girl off his hands.
Blayne. Caddy has money--lucky devil. Place at Home, too.
Doone. He comes of first-class stock. 'Can't quite understand his being
caught by a Colonel's daughter, and (looking cautiously round room. )
Black Infantry at that! No offence to you, Blayne.
Blayne. (Stiffly. ) Not much, thaanks.
Curtiss. (Quoting motto of Irregular Moguls. ) "We are what we are," eh,
old man? But Gadsby was such a superior animal as a rule. Why didn't he
go Home and pick his wife there?
Mackesy. They are all alike when they come to the turn into the
straight. About thirty a man begins to get sick of living alone.
Curtiss. And of the eternal mutton--chop in the morning.
Doone. It's a dead goat as a rule, but go on, Mackesy.
Mackesy. If a man's once taken that way nothing will hold him, Do you
remember Benoit of your service, Doone? They transferred him to Tharanda
when his time came, and he married a platelayer's daughter, or something
of that kind. She was the only female about the place.
Doone. Yes, poor brute. That smashed Benoit's chances of promotion
altogether. Mrs. Benoit used to ask "Was you goin' to the dance this
evenin'? "
Curtiss. Hang it all! Gadsby hasn't married beneath him. There's no
tar-brush in the family, I suppose.
Jervoise. Tar-brush! Not an anna. You young fellows talk as though
the man was doing the girl an honor in marrying her. You're all too
conceited--nothing's good enough for you.
Blayne. Not even an empty Club, a dam' bad dinner at the Judge's, and
a Station as sickly as a hospital. You're quite right. We're a set of
Sybarites.
Doone. Luxurious dogs, wallowing in--
Curtiss. Prickly heat between the shoulders. I'm covered with it. Let's
hope Beora will be cooler.
Blayne. Whew! Are you ordered into camp, too?
