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(GERALD reads his telegram again more thoughtfully.)
LADY FARRINGDON. From Pamela, dear?
GERALD. From the office. I shall have to go up at once.
LADY FARRINGDON (very disappointed). Oh, Gerald!
SIR JAMES. Something on?
GERALD. Rather an important thing really. I never thought I should get it, but there was just a chance. (Looking at his watch) Oh, I can do it comfortably.
SIR JAMES (obviously proud that GERALD is in the thick of things). What is it? I suppose you mustn't tell us.
GERALD. Something abroad.
SIR JAMES. Diplomatic mission, eh?
GERALD. Yes.
LETTY. That does sound so frightfully exciting.
LADY FARRINGDON (proudly). Oh, Gerald! (Thoughtfully). I wish we had known about it this morning, we could have mentioned it at lunch.
SIR JAMES. That ought to lead to something.
GERALD. Yes. I think it will. It's rather an opportunity:
(They are all round him now, just as they have always been. The buzz begins.)
SIR JAMES. Aha! you'll be an amba.s.sador yet. What do you think of that, Letty?
LETTY. Well done, Gerald.
LADY FARRINGDON. How like you, Gerald!
TOMMY. Good old Gerald! I never knew such a chap. You really _are_!
GERALD (softly). I wish I weren't, Tommy! Oh, I wish I weren't!
(They don't hear him; they are still buzzing.)
THE BOY COMES HOME
A COMEDY IN ONE ACT
CHARACTERS.
UNCLE JAMES.
AUNT EMILY.
PHILIP.
MARY.
MRS. HIGGINS.
This play was first produced by Mr. Owen Nares at the Victoria Palace Theatre on September 9,1918, with the following cast:
Philip--OWEN NARES.
Uncle James--TOM REYNOLDS.
Aunt Emily--DOROTHY RADFORD.
Mary--ADAH d.i.c.k.
Mrs. Higgins--RACHEL DE SOLLA.
[SCENE.--A room in UNCLE JAMES'S house in the Cromwell Road.]
[TIME.--The day after the War.]
[Any room in UNCLE JAMES'S house is furnished in heavy mid-Victorian style; this particular morning-room is perhaps solider and more respectable even than the others, from the heavy table in the middle of it to the heavy engravings on the walls. There are two doors to it.
The one at the back opens into the hall, the one at the side into the dining-room.]
[PHILIP comes from the hall and goes into the dining-room. Apparently he finds nothing there, for he returns to the morning-room, looks about him for a moment and then rings the bell. It is ten o'clock, and he wants his breakfast. He picks up the paper, and sits in a heavy armchair in front of the fire--a pleasant-looking well-built person of twenty-three, with an air of decisiveness about him. MARY, the parlour-maid, comes in.]
MARY. Did you ring, Master Philip?
PHILIP (absently). Yes; I want some breakfast, please, Mary.
MARY (coldly). Breakfast has been cleared away an hour ago.
PHILIP. Exactly. That's why I rang. You can boil me a couple of eggs or something. And coffee, not tea.
MARY. I'm sure I don't know what Mrs. Higgins will say?
PHILIP (getting up). Who is Mrs. Higgins?
MARY. The cook. And she's not used to being put about like this.
PHILIP. Do you think she'll say something?
MARY. I don't know _what_ she'll say.
PHILIP. You needn't tell me, you know, if you don't want to. Anyway, I don't suppose it will shock me. One gets used to it in the Army. (He smiles pleasantly at her.)
MARY. Well, I'll do what I can, sir. But breakfast at eight sharp is the master's rule, just as it used to be before you went away to the war.
PHILIP. Before I went away to the war I did a lot of silly things. Don't drag them up now. (More curtly) Two eggs, and if there's a ham bring that along too. (He turns away.)
