Barrie, J M - What Every Woman Knows Read online

  ACT II

  [Six years have elapsed and John Shand's great hour has come. Perhaps his great hour really lies ahead of him, perhaps he had it six years ago; it often passes us by in the night with such a faint call that we don't even turn in our beds. But according to the trumpets this is John's great hour; it is the hour for which he has long been working with his coat off; and now the coat is on again (broadcloth but ill- fitting), for there is no more to do but await results. He is standing for Parliament, and this is election night.

  As the scene discloses itself you get, so to speak, one of John Shand's posters in the face. Vote for Shand. Shand, Shand, Shand. Civil and Religious Liberty, Faith, Hope, Freedom. They are all fly- blown names for Shand. Have a placard about Shand, have a hundred placards about him, it is snowing Shand to-night in Glasgow; take the paste out of your eye, and you will see that we are in one of Shand's committee rooms. It has been a hairdresser's emporium, but Shand, Shand, Shand has swept through it like a wind, leaving nothing but the fixtures; why shave, why have your head doused in those basins when you can be brushed and scraped and washed up for ever by simply voting for Shand?

  There are a few hard chairs for yelling Shand from, and then rushing away. There is an iron spiral staircase that once led to the ladies' hairdressing apartments, but now leads to more Shand, Shand, Shand. A glass door at the back opens on to the shop proper, screaming Civil and Religious Liberty, Shand, as it opens, and beyond is the street crammed with still more Shand pro and con. Men in every sort of garb rush in and out, up and down the stair, shouting the magic word. Then there is a lull, and down the stair comes Maggie Wylie, decidedly overdressed in blue velvet and (let us get this over) less good- looking than ever. She raises her hands to heaven, she spins round like a little teetotum. To her from the street, suffering from a determination of the word Shand to the mouth, rush Alick and David. Alick is thinner (being older), David is stouter (being older), and they are both in tweeds and silk hats.]

  MAGGIE. David--have they--is he? quick, quick! DAVID. There's no news yet, no news. It's terrible.

  [The teetotum revolves more quickly.]

  ALICK. For God's sake, Maggie, sit down.

  MAGGIE. I can't, I can't.

  DAVID. Hold her down.

  [They press her into a chair; JAMES darts in, stouter also. His necktie has gone; he will never again be able to attend a funeral in that hat.]

  JAMES [wildly]. John Shand's the man for you. John Shand's the man for you. John Shand's the man for you.

  DAVID [clutching him]. Have you heard anything?

  JAMES. Not a word.

  ALICK. Look at her.

  DAVID. Maggie [he goes on his knees beside her, pressing her to him in affectionate anxiety]. It was mad of him to dare.

  MAGGIE. It was grand of him.

  ALICK [moving about distraught]. Insane ambition.

  MAGGIE. Glorious ambition.

  DAVID. Maggie, Maggie, my lamb, best be prepared for the worst.

  MAGGIE [husky]. I am prepared.

  ALICK. Six weary years has she waited for this night.

  MAGGIE. Six brave years has John toiled for this night.

  JAMES. And you could have had him, Maggie, at the end of five. The document says five.

  MAGGIE. Do you think I grudge not being married to him yet? Was I to hamper him till the fight was won?

  DAVID [with wrinkled brows]. But if it's lost?

  [She can't answer.]

  ALICK [starting]. What's that?

  [The three listen at the door, the shouting dies down.]

  DAVID. They're terrible still; what can make them so still?

  [JAMES spirits himself away. ALICK and DAVID blanch to hear MAGGIE speaking softly as if to JOHN.]

  MAGGIE. Did you say you had lost, John? Of course you would lose the first time, dear John. Six years. Very well, we'll begin another six to-night. You'll win yet. [Fiercely] Never give in, John, never give in!

  [The roar of the multitude breaks out again and comes rolling nearer.]

  DAVID . I think he's coming.

  [JAMES is fired into the room like a squeezed onion.]

  JAMES. He's coming!

  [They may go on speaking, but through the clang outside none could hear. The populace seems to be trying to take the committee room by assault. Out of the scrimmage a man emerges dishevelled and bursts into the room, closing the door behind him. It is JOHN SHAND in a five guinea suit, including the hat. There are other changes in him also, for he has been delving his way through loamy ground all those years. His right shoulder, which he used to raise to pound a path through the crowd, now remains permanently in that position. His mouth tends to close like a box. His eyes are tired, they need some one to pull the lids over them and send him to sleep for a week. But they are honest eyes still, and faithful, and could even light up his face at times with a smile, if the mouth would give a little help.]

  JOHN [clinging to a chair that he may not fly straight to heaven]. I'm in; I'm elected. Majority two hundred and forty-four; I'm John Shand, M.P.

  [The crowd have the news by this time and their roar breaks the door open. JAMES is off at once to tell them that he is to be SHAND'S brother-in-law. A teardrop clings to ALICK's nose; DAVID hits out playfully at JOHN, and JOHN in an ecstasy returns the blow.]

  DAVID. Fling yourself at the door, father, and bar them out. Maggie, what keeps you so quiet now?

  MAGGIE [weak in her limbs]. You're sure you're in, John?

  JOHN. Majority 244. I've beaten the baronet. I've done it, Maggie, and not a soul to help me; I've done it alone. [His voice breaks; you could almost pick up the pieces.] I'm as hoarse as a crow, and I have to address the Cowcaddens Club yet; David, pump some oxygen into me.

  DAVID. Certainly, Mr. Shand. [While he does it, MAGGIE is seeing visions.]

  ALICK. What are you doing, Maggie?

  MAGGIE. This is the House of Commons, and I'm John, catching the Speaker's eye for the first time. Do you see a queer little old wifie sitting away up there in the Ladies' Gallery? That's me. 'Mr. Speaker, sir, I rise to make my historic maiden speech. I am no orator, sir'; voice from Ladies' Gallery, 'Are you not, John? you'll soon let them see that'; cries of 'Silence, woman,' and general indignation. 'Mr. Speaker, sir, I stand here diffidently with my eyes on the Treasury Bench'; voice from the Ladies' Gallery, 'And you'll soon have your coat-tails on it, John'; loud cries of 'Remove that little old wifie,' in which she is forcibly ejected, and the honourable gentleman resumes his seat in a torrent of admiring applause.

  [ALICK and DAVID waggle their proud heads.]

  JOHN [tolerantly]. Maggie, Maggie.

  MAGGIE. You're not angry with me, John?

  JOHN. No, no.

  MAGGIE. But you glowered.

  JOHN. I was thinking of Sir Peregrine. Just because I beat him at the poll he took a shabby revenge; he congratulated me in French, a language I haven't taken the trouble to master.

  MAGGIE [becoming a little taller]. Would it help you, John, if you were to marry a woman that could speak French?

  DAVID [quickly]. Not at all.

  MAGGIE [gloriously]. Mon cher Jean, laissez-moi parler le francais, voulez-vous un interprete?

  JOHN. Hullo!

  MAGGIE. Je suis la soeur francaise de mes deux freres ecossais.

  DAVID [worshipping her]. She's been learning French.

  JOHN [lightly]. Well done.

  MAGGIE [grandly]. They're arriving.

  ALICK. Who?

  MAGGIE. Our guests. This is London, and Mrs. John Shand is giving her first reception. [Airily] Have I told you, darling, who are coming to-night? There's that dear Sir Peregrine. [To ALICK] Sir Peregrine, this is a pleasure. Avez-vous...So sorry we beat you at the poll.

  JOHN. I'm doubting the baronet would sit on you, Maggie.

  MAGGIE. I've invited a lord to sit on the baronet. Voila!

  DAVID [delighted]. You thing! You'll find the lords expensive.

  MAGGIE. Just a little
cheap lord. [JAMES enters importantly.] My dear Lord Cheap, this is kind of you.

  [JAMES hopes that MAGGIE's reason is not unbalanced.]

  DAVID [who really ought to have had education]. How de doo, Cheap?

  JAMES [bewildered]. Maggie---

  MAGGIE. Yes, do call me Maggie.

  ALICK [grinning]. She's practising her first party, James. The swells are at the door.

  JAMES [heavily]. That's what I came to say. They are at the door.

  JOHN. Who?

  JAMES. The swells; in their motor. [He gives JOHN three cards.]

  JOHN. 'Mr. Tenterden.'

  DAVID. Him that was speaking for you?

  JOHN. The same. He's a whip and an Honourable. 'Lady Sybil Tenterden.' [Frowns.] Her! She's his sister.

  MAGGIE. A married woman?

  JOHN. No. 'The Comtesse de la Briere.'

  MAGGIE [the scholar]. She must be French.

  JOHN. Yes; I think she's some relation. She's a widow.

  JAMES. But what am I to say to them? ['Mr. Shand's compliments, and he will be proud to receive them' is the very least that the Wylies expect.]

  JOHN [who was evidently made for great ends]. Say I'm very busy, but if they care to wait I hope presently to give them a few minutes.

  JAMES [thunderstruck]. Good God, Mr. Shand!

  [But it makes him JOHN'S more humble servant than ever, and he departs with the message.]

  JOHN [not unaware of the sensation he has created]. I'll go up and let the crowd see me from the window.

  MAGGIE. But--but--what are we to do with these ladies?

  JOHN [as he tramps upwards]. It's your reception, Maggie; this will prove you.

  MAGGIE [growing smaller]. Tell me what you know about this Lady Sybil?

  JOHN. The only thing I know about her is that she thinks me vulgar.

  MAGGIE. You?

  JOHN. She has attended some of my meetings, and I'm told she said that.

  MAGGIE. What could the woman mean?

  JOHN. I wonder. When I come down I'll ask her.

  [With his departure MAGGIE'S nervousness increases.]

  ALICK [encouragingly]. In at them, Maggie, with your French.

  MAGGIE. It's all slipping from me, father.

  DAVID [gloomily]. I'm sure to say 'for to come for to go.'

  [The newcomers glorify the room, and MAGGIE feels that they have lifted her up with the tongs and deposited her in one of the basins. They are far from intending to be rude; it is not their fault that thus do swans scatter the ducks. They do not know that they are guests of the family, they think merely that they are waiting with other strangers in a public room; they undulate inquiringly, and if MAGGIE could undulate in return she would have no cause for offence. But she suddenly realises that this is an art as yet denied her, and that though DAVID might buy her evening-gowns as fine as theirs [and is at this moment probably deciding to do so], she would look better carrying them in her arms than on her person. She also feels that to emerge from wraps as they are doing is more difficult than to plank your money on the counter for them. The COMTESSE she could forgive, for she is old; but LADY SYBIL is young and beautiful and comes lazily to rest like a stately ship of Tarsus.]

  COMTESSE [smiling divinely, and speaking with such a pretty accent]. I hope one is not in the way. We were told we might wait.

  MAGGIE [bravely climbing out of the basin]. Certainly--I am sure if you will be so--it is--

  [She knows that DAVID and her father are very sorry for her.]

  [A high voice is heard orating outside.]

  SYBIL [screwing her nose deliciously]. He is at it again, Auntie.

  COMTESSE. Mon Dieu! [Like one begging pardon of the universe] It is Mr. Tenterden, you understand, making one more of his delightful speeches to the crowd. WOULD you be so charming as to shut the door?

  [This to DAVID in such appeal that she is evidently making the petition of her life. DAVID saves her.]

  MAGGIE [determined not to go under]. J'espere que vous--trouvez-- cette--reunion--interessante?

  COMTESSE. Vous parlez francais? Mais c'est charmant! Voyons, causons un peu. Racontez-moi tout de ce grand homme, toutes les choses merveilleuses qu'il a faites.

  MAGGIE. I--I--Je connais--[Alas!]

  COMTESSE [naughtily]. Forgive me, Mademoiselle, I thought you spoke French.

  SYBIL [who knows that DAVID admires her shoulders]. How wicked of you, Auntie. [To MAGGIE] I assure you none of us can understand her when she gallops at that pace.

  MAGGIE [crushed]. It doesn't matter. I will tell Mr. Shand that you are here.

  SYBIL [drawling]. Please don't trouble him. We are really only waiting till my brother recovers and can take us back to our hotel.

  MAGGIE. I'll tell him.

  [She is glad to disappear up the stair.]

  COMTESSE. The lady seems distressed. Is she a relation of Mr. Shand?

  DAVID. Not for to say a relation. She's my sister. Our name is Wylie.

  [But granite quarries are nothing to them.]

  COMTESSE. How do you do. You are the committee man of Mr. Shand?

  DAVID. No, just friends.

  COMTESSE [gaily to the basins]. Aha! I know you. Next, please! Sybil, do you weigh yourself, or are you asleep?

  [LADY SYBIL has sunk indolently into a weighing-chair.]

  SYBIL. Not quite, Auntie.

  COMTESSE [the mirror of la politesse]. Tell me all about Mr. Shand. Was it here that he--picked up the pin?

  DAVID. The pin?

  COMTESSE. As I have read, a self-made man always begins by picking up a pin. After that, as the memoirs say, his rise was rapid.

  [DAVID, however, is once more master of himself, and indeed has begun to tot up the cost of their garments.]

  DAVID. It wasn't a pin he picked up, my lady; it was L300.

  ALICK [who feels that JOHN's greatness has been outside the conversation quite long enough]. And his rise wasn't so rapid, just at first, David!

  DAVID. He had his fight. His original intention was to become a minister; he's university-educated, you know; he's not a working-man member.

  ALICK [with reverence]. He's an M.A. But while he was a student he got a place in an iron-cementer's business.

  COMTESSE [now far out of her depths]. Iron-cementer?

  DAVID. They scrape boilers.

  COMTESSE. I see. The fun men have, Sybil!

  DAVID [with some solemnity]. There have been millions made in scraping boilers. They say, father, he went into business so as to be able to pay off the L300.

  ALICK [slily]. So I've heard.

  COMTESSE. Aha--it was a loan?

  [DAVID and ALICK are astride their great subject now.]

  DAVID. No, a gift--of a sort--from some well-wishers. But they wouldn't hear of his paying it off, father!

  ALICK. Not them!

  COMTESSE [restraining an impulse to think of other things]. That was kind, charming.

  ALICK [with a look at DAVID]. Yes. Well, my lady, he developed a perfect genius for the iron-cementing.

  DAVID. But his ambition wasn't satisfied. Soon he had public life in his eye. As a heckler he was something fearsome; they had to seat him on the platform for to keep him quiet. Next they had to let him into the Chair. After that he did all the speaking; he cleared all roads before him like a fire-engine; and when this vacancy occurred, you could hardly say it did occur, so quickly did he step into it. My lady, there are few more impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make.

  COMTESSE. I can well believe it. And now he has said farewell to boilers?

  DAVID [impressively]. Not at all; the firm promised if he was elected for to make him their London manager at L800 a year.

  COMTESSE. There is a strong man for you, Sybil; but I believe you ARE asleep.

  SYBIL [stirring herself]. Honestly, I'm not. [Sweetly to the others] But would you mind finding out whether my brother is drawing to a close?

  [DAVID goes out, leaving poor ALICK marooned. The COM
TESSE is kind to him.]

  COMTESSE. Thank you very much. [Which helps ALICK out.] Don't you love a strong man, sleepy head?

  SYBIL [preening herself]. I never met one.

  COMTESSE. Neither have I. But if you DID meet one, would he wakes you up?

  SYBIL. I dare say he would find there were two of us.

  COMTESSE [considering her]. Yes, I think he would. Ever been in love, you cold thing?

  SYBIL [yawning]. I have never shot up in flame, Auntie.

  COMTESSE. Think you could manage it?

  SYBIL. If Mr. Right came along.

  COMTESSE. As a girl of to-day it would be your duty to tame him.

  SYBIL. As a girl of to-day I would try to do my duty.

  COMTESSE. And if it turned out that HE tamed you instead?

  SYBIL. He would have to do that if he were MY Mr. Right.

  COMTESSE. And then?

  SYBIL. Then, of course, I should adore him. Auntie, I think if I ever really love it will be like Mary Queen of Scots, who said of her Bothwell that she could follow him round the world in her nighty.

  COMTESSE. My petite!

  SYBIL. I believe I mean it.

  COMTESSE. Oh, it is quite my conception of your character. Do you know, I am rather sorry for this Mr. John Shand.

  SYBIL [opening her fine eyes]. Why? He is quite a boor, is he not?

  COMTESSE. For that very reason. Because his great hour is already nearly sped. That wild bull manner that moves the multitude--they will laugh at it in your House of Commons.

  SYBIL [indifferent]. I suppose so.

  COMTESSE. Yet if he had education---

  SYBIL. Have we not been hearing how superbly he is educated?

  COMTESSE. It is such as you or me that he needs to educate him now. You could do it almost too well.

  SYBIL [with that pretty stretch of neck]. I am not sufficiently interested. I retire in your favour. How would you begin?

  COMTESSE. By asking him to drop in, about five, of course. By the way, I wonder is there a Mrs. Shand?

  SYBIL. I have no idea. But they marry young.

  COMTESSE. If there is not, there is probably a lady waiting for him, somewhere in a boiler.

  SYBIL. I dare say.

  [MAGGIE descends.]

  MAGGIE. Mr. Shand will be down directly.

  COMTESSE. Thank you. Your brother has been giving us such an interesting account of his career. I forget, Sybil, whether he said that he was married.