The Squire Part 1

The Squire.

by Arthur W. Pinero.

ACT I. -- THE SECRET.

Scene:--The exterior of a decayed, weatherbeaten, Elizabethan 'mansion, overgrown with ivy and autumn-tinted creeper. On the R., the lower part of a tower, square or circular. Facing the audience, about five feet from the ground, a door opening into the tower, the entrance proper to the house. This door leads out on to a stone terrace, which is run off the stage R., and which terminates R. C., in a few broken and irregular steps.

At the foot of the steps, C., of stage, an old halting stone. Below the terrace, R., a wooden garden seat. On the R., of garden seat, a small rustic table, on which is a work-basket with materials for needlework. At back, up stage, the house runs from R., to L., In R., corner, a piece of broken stonework, almost concealed by ivy, forming a footing to gain a broad beam which runs about twelve feet from the ground, from R., to L., Above the beam, two substantial cas.e.m.e.nt windows, R., c.

and L., Below the beams, R., C., a window, and on the L. a large archway, with broken iron gates leaning against its walls. Through the archway, a bright view of farm lands, ricks, etc., etc. On the L., continuing the house wall, down the stage, an outhouse, suggesting a kitchen dairy; outside this, up stage L., a wooden bench with milk-pails, etc. Down stage, a door leading into outhouse.

Above door, L., C., rough deal table and two chairs.

The ground is flagged with broken stones, which are much overgrown with moss and weed.

_(Bright Music at opening. Lights full up. At rise of curtain, the bell rings in a discordant way.

Christiana Haggerston discovered L., scrubbing a small wooden pail. Christiana is a handsome dark woman with the tinge of the gipsy upon her face.)_

{Chris.} What is it? _(puts pail on form L., goes up into archway and looks off R.)_

{Izod.} _(offstage)_ Hullo! Christie!

{Chris.} Why, come in, Izod, darling--what's wrong?

{Izod.} _(R. off stage)_ It's the dog, he can't abide me.

_(Chris, hurls her scrubbing brush at the dog.)_

{Chris.} _(savagely)_ Lie down, you beast, _(softly)_ Come along, Izod, dear! _(comes down)_

_(Izod backs on as though afraid of dog. Izod Haggerston enters through archway. He is a little thin, dark fellow--half cad, half gipsy--with a brown face, and crisp, curly, black hair. He is dirty and disreputable, an idler and a sneak.)_

_(L. C.--putting her arms round his neck)_ I haven't seen you for nearly a week, brother dear.

{Izod.} _(C., shaking himself clear)_ All right, don't maul, Christie. If the Squire was commonly civil to a poor chap, you'd see a little more of me. I want something to drink, and some coin for tobacco.

{Chris.} _(standing by him and stroking his head)_ No luck, dearie?

{Izod.} Luck! No! The farmers won't look at a fellow with a dark skin--curse 'em!

{Chris.} The brutes. _(fondling him)_

{Izod.} Well, don't maul, Christie. I'm dead dry.

Chris, _(looking round)_ Wait here and I'll bring you a drink, _(she crosses to L.)_

_(She goes into outhouse L., Izod looks round towards door R., C., with an evil expression. He then deliberately takes off the coloured handkerchief which he wears round his neck, unfolds it and produces a bunch of bright keys.)_

{Izod.} _(jingling the keys and looking towards door R., C., )_ Keys! I wonder if keys are worth anything. _(slips keys into side pocket, and crosses to door L., meeting Chris., who comes out with a mug of milk. s.n.a.t.c.hing it from her)_ There's a dear! _(he puts mug to lips and takes it away quickly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand)_ Pah!

You're a good sort of a sister--milk!

{Chris.} I dursn't tap the ale without Squire's orders--the new barrel isn't to be touched till the Harvest Feast. Down with it--it's meat and drink.

{Izod.} Ugh! Here goes! Confound the Squire!

_(he drinks, gives back mug and holds out hand for coin. She puts mug on table)_ Coin for tobacco.

{Chris.} Don't spend your money on tobacco, darling.

Have a meal.

{Izod.} I had a meal yesterday, mid-day. _(proudly)_ I earned two s.h.i.+llings in half-an-hour.

{Chris.} Good gracious! How?

{Izod.} _(walking R., and back)_ I and old Mrs.

Thornd.y.k.e's gardener carried a sick woman on a litter from Pagley Railway Station to the White Lion, at Market-Sinfield. Oh, she was a weight! _(sits R.

of L., table)_

{Chris.} Carried a sick woman on a litter? _(leans against table L., of it)_

{Izod.} The railway journey had upset her, and the doctor said she was too ill to be shook up on the roadway.

{Chris.} A common woman or a lady?

{Izod.} A lady--jolly dark, jolly pretty, and jolly ill.

{Chris.} _(curiously)_ What does she do at an inn in Market-Sinfield? _(sits on table)_

{Izod.} She gave out that she was a stranger in these parts, and wanted to see a clergyman. She was a weight!

{Chris.} Well?

{Izod.} So I fetched Mr. Dormer, the mad parson.

{Chris.} Did he go to her?

{Izod.} I dunno. Coin for tobacco! _(rises)_

_(Izod goes up to arch.)_

{Chris.} I've only got a little money. I'll fetch it, dear, _(she takes up mug reflectively)_ A pretty lady in Market-Sinfield--very dark, very ill, and among strangers, _(sighing)_ How unlucky all dark women seem to be!

{Izod.} Coin for tobacco! _(rapping table)_

{Chris.} _(starting)_ Oh, yes, dear.

_(She goes off L., Izod again produces the keys and jingles them on the table.)_

{Izod.} _(glancing in the direction of door R., C.)_ Keys! and a name cut on the key-ring, _(shaking them)_ What sort of a tune do they play, I wonder?

_(rises)_

_(Chris, re-enters carrying a small purse. She comes L. of table, and empties the contents into his R.

hand.)_