The scene is LADY CHESHIRE's morning room, at ten o'clock on the following day. It is a pretty room, with white panelled walls; and chrysanthemums and carmine lilies in bowls. A large bow window overlooks the park under a sou'-westerly sky. A piano stands open; a fire is burning; and the morning's correspondence is scattered on a writing-table. Doors opposite each other lead to the maid's workroom, and to a corridor. LADY CHESHIRE is standing in the middle of the room, looking at an opera cloak, which FREDA is holding out.
LADY CHESHIRE. Well, Freda, suppose you just give it up!
FREDA. I don't like to be beaten.
LADY CHESHIRE. You're not to worry over your work. And by the way, I promised your father to make you eat more. [FREDA smiles.]
LADY CHESHIRE. It's all very well to smile. You want bracing up.
Now don't be naughty. I shall give you a tonic. And I think you had better put that cloak away.
FREDA. I'd rather have one more try, my lady.
LADY CHESHIRE. Sitting doom at her writing-table] Very well.
FREDA goes out into her workroom, as JACKSON comes in from the corridor.
JACKSON. Excuse me, my lady. There's a young woman from the village, says you wanted to see her.
LADY CHESHIRE. Rose Taylor? Ask her to come in. Oh! and Jackson the car for the meet please at half-past ten.
JACKSON having bowed and withdrawn, LADY CHESHIRE rises with worked signs of nervousness, which she has only just suppressed, when ROSE TAYLOR, a stolid country girl, comes in and stands waiting by the door.
LADY CHESHIRE. Well, Rose. Do come in!
[ROSE advances perhaps a couple of steps.]
LADY CHESHIRE. I just wondered whether you'd like to ask my advice.
Your engagement with Dunning's broken off, isn't it?
ROSE. Yes--but I've told him he's got to marry me.
LADY CHESHIRE. I see! And you think that'll be the wisest thing?
ROSE. [Stolidly] I don't know, my lady. He's got to.
LADY CHESHIRE. I do hope you're a little fond of him still.
ROSE. I'm not. He don't deserve it.
LADY CHESHIRE: And--do you think he's quite lost his affection for you?
ROSE. I suppose so, else he wouldn't treat me as he's done. He's after that--that--He didn't ought to treat me as if I was dead.
LADY CHESHIRE. No, no--of course. But you will think it all well over, won't you?
ROSE. I've a--got nothing to think over, except what I know of.
LADY CHESHIRE. But for you both t0 marry in that spirit! You know it's for life, Rose. [Looking into her face] I'm always ready to help you.
ROSE. [Dropping a very slight curtsey] Thank you, my lady, but I think he ought to marry me. I've told him he ought.
LADY CHESHIRE. [Sighing] Well, that's all I wanted to say. It's a question of your self-respect; I can't give you any real advice. But just remember that if you want a friend----ROSE. [With a gulp] I'm not so 'ard, really. I only want him to do what's right by me.
LADY CHESHIRE. [With a little lift of her eyebrow--gently] Yes, yes--I see.
ROSE. [Glancing back at the door] I don't like meeting the servants.
LADY CHESHIRE. Come along, I'll take you out another way. [As they reach the door, DOT comes in.]
DOT. [With a glance at ROSE] Can we have this room for the mouldy rehearsal, Mother?
LADY CHESHIRE. Yes, dear, you can air it here.
Holding the door open for ROSE she follows her out. And DOT, with a book of "Caste" in her hand, arranges the room according to a diagram.
DOT. Chair--chair--table--chair--Dash! Table--piano--fire--window!
[Producing a pocket comb] Comb for Eccles. Cradle?--Cradle--[She viciously dumps a waste-paper basket down, and drops a footstool into it] Brat! [Then reading from the book gloomily] "Enter Eccles breathless. Esther and Polly rise-Esther puts on lid of bandbox."
Bandbox!
Searching for something to represent a bandbox, she opens the workroom door.
DOT. Freda?
FREDA comes in.
DOT. I say, Freda. Anything the matter? You seem awfully down.
[FREDA does not answer.]
DOT. You haven't looked anything of a lollipop lately.
FREDA. I'm quite all right, thank you, Miss Dot.
DOT. Has Mother been givin' you a tonic?
FREDA. [Smiling a little] Not yet.
DOT. That doesn't account for it then. [With a sudden warm impulse]
What is it, Freda?
FREDA. Nothing.
DOT. [Switching of on a different line of thought] Are you very busy this morning?
FREDA. Only this cloak for my lady.
DOT. Oh! that can wait. I may have to get you in to prompt, if I can't keep 'em straight. [Gloomily] They stray so. Would you mind?
FREDA. [Stolidly] I shall be very glad, Miss Dot.
DOT. [Eyeing her dubiously] All right. Let's see--what did I want?
JOAN has come in.
JOAN. Look here, Dot; about the baby in this scene. I'm sure I ought to make more of it.
DOT. Romantic little beast! [She plucks the footstool out by one ear, and holds it forth] Let's see you try!
JOAN. [Recoiling] But, Dot, what are we really going to have for the baby? I can't rehearse with that thing. Can't you suggest something, Freda?
FREDA. Borrow a real one, Miss Joan. There are some that don't count much.
JOAN. Freda, how horrible!
DOT. [Dropping the footstool back into the basket] You'll just put up with what you're given.
Then as CHRISTINE and MABEL LANFARNE Come in, FREDA turns abruptly and goes out.
DOT. Buck up! Where are Bill and Harold? [To JOAN] Go and find them, mouse-cat.
But BILL and HAROLD, followed by LATTER, are already in the doorway. They come in, and LATTER, stumbling over the waste-paper basket, takes it up to improve its position.
DOT. Drop that cradle, John! [As he picks the footstool out of it]
Leave the baby in! Now then! Bill, you enter there! [She points to the workroom door where BILL and MABEL range themselves close to the piano; while HAROLD goes to the window] John! get off the stage!
Now then, "Eccles enters breathless, Esther and Polly rise." Wait a minute. I know now. [She opens the workroom door] Freda, I wanted a bandbox.
HAROLD. [Cheerfully] I hate beginning to rehearse, you know, you feel such a fool.
