The Silver Shield Part 4

MRS. D. Somehow or other one can always tell them. (_sits, opens, book, and dozes off_)

SIR H. (_rises_) You must excuse my friends.

ALMA. With pleasure. It's rather a relief than otherwise. They seem to have a nice opinion of actresses.

SIR H. The truth is, they have had no opportunity of forming one.

ALMA. But have formed a very strong one, for all that.

SIR H. Now that they have the opportunity----

ALMA. Let's hope it'll alter the opinion.

_Enter SUSAN, R._

SUSAN. If you please, miss----

ALMA. Susan, don't call me miss. This is my maid, Sir Humphrey. I'm always called "miss" at the theatre, when I'm called anything at all.

What is it, Susan?

SUSAN. Mr. d.i.c.k is here--wants to see you particularly.

ALMA. Tell him I'm engaged. What business has he bothering me here?

SUSAN. But he's come down from town express.

ALMA. Well, he can go back express.

SIR H. One moment, Mrs. Blake. Who is this gentleman?

ALMA. My manager. I don't know what he wants.

SIR H. See him, by all means. Perhaps he'll stay to dinner if I ask him.

ALMA. Ah, you don't know d.i.c.k. He'll probably stay to dinner whether you ask him or not. He's one of the old school of managers; they're almost extinct now. d.i.c.k's the sole survivor.

SIR H. I'm one of the old school myself, and shall be glad to meet him.

SUSAN. Here he is, with Mr. Chetwynd.

_Re-enter NED, with MR. DODSON d.i.c.k, R._

NED. This way, Mr. d.i.c.k. (_goes up to easel_)

d.i.c.k. (_crosses to ALMA_) Ah, there she is. (_Exit SUSAN, R._) Didn't expect to see _me,_ did you? Here's a nice how d'you-do. Within four weeks of opening, and Sparkle not delivered his first act. Thought I'd run down and tell you. What are we to do?

ALMA. This is Sir Humphrey Chetwynd--Mr. d.i.c.k.

d.i.c.k. (_crosses to SIR HUMPHREY_) Pleased to make your acquaintance.

Nice sort of place you have down here. (_looking round_)

SIR H. Quiet, Mr. d.i.c.k, and yet accessible.

d.i.c.k. Out of the way, I call it--out of my way, at any rate. Make a good set, eh, wouldn't it? That window's fine, opens out the scene, and shows that landscape backing. Daren't use that sky. Scrubbs is the man for skies.

SIR H. Is he indeed?

d.i.c.k. There's an originality about his skies--you never saw such skies. The critics go in for originality. Scrubbs gives it 'em.

ALMA. And don't they give it Scrubbs?

d.i.c.k. Ha! ha! I'll make a note of that. Give it to Sparkle--do for his next comedy. Poor Sparkle! Clever man, but sadly overworked. No wonder he's behindhand with our piece.

ALMA. It's your own fault. Give someone else a chance.

d.i.c.k. No! no! Sparkle's recognised.

NED. (_coming down, R._) His jokes are.

d.i.c.k. That doesn't matter. It's his name I want. The public judges only by the brand. One play's just as good as another.

SIR H. That's your experience?

d.i.c.k. Yes. On the whole, I think a bad play's better than a good one, but we none of us know anything about it.

ALMA. If you would only try him, here is an author to your hand.

d.i.c.k. (_alarmed_) You--an author? (_puts hat on_)

NED. Only last week I wrote to you about a play I'd sent you.

d.i.c.k. (_crosses to SIR HUMPHREY; pulls out watch_) How are your trains, Sir Humphrey? I've an appointment at four sharp, in town.

SIR H. I see you are a man of business.

d.i.c.k. Yes, I'm a cheesemonger.

SIR H. A cheesemonger. I thought you were a theatrical manager?

d.i.c.k. Same thing. A theatre's only a shop, and ought to be worked on the same principles.

NED. Or want of principles?

d.i.c.k. Same thing. If my customers want a bad article, I give it 'em.

It's not my fault, it's theirs.

SIR H. A philosopher as well as a cheesemonger!

d.i.c.k. My dear sir, all cheesemongers are philosophers.