Five Little Plays Part 1

Five Little Plays.

by Alfred Sutro.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

HECTOR ALLEN ELIZABETH ALLEN (BETTY) WALTER COZENS

_This play was produced at the Palace Theatre on October 6, 1911_

THE MAN IN THE STALLS

_The sitting-room of a little flat in Shaftesbury Avenue. At back is a door leading to the dining-room--it is open, and the dinner-table is in full view of the audience. To the extreme right is another door, leading to the hall._

_The place is pleasantly and prettily, though quite inexpensively, furnished. To the left, at angles with the distempered wall, is a baby-grand piano; the fireplace, in which a fire is burning merrily, is on the same side, full centre. To the right of the door leading to the dining-room is a small side-table, on which there is a tray with decanter and gla.s.ses; in front of this, a card-table, open, with two packs of cards on it, and chairs on each side. Another table, a round one, is in the centre of the room--to right and to left of it are comfortable armchairs. Against the right wall is a long sofa; above it hang a few good, water-colours and engravings; on the piano and the table there are flowers. A general appearance of refinement and comfort pervades the room; no luxury, but evidence everywhere of good taste, and the countless feminine touches that make a room homelike and pleasant._

_When the curtain rises,_ HECTOR ALLEN, _a youngish man of forty, with an attractive intellectual face, is seen standing by the dining-table in the inner room, draining his liqueur-gla.s.s, with_ WALTER COZENS _to the right of him, lighting a cigarette._ WALTER _is a few years younger than his friend, moderately good-looking, with fine, curly brown hair and a splendid silky moustache. His morning-clothes are conspicuously well-cut--he is evidently something of a dandy;_ HECTOR _wears a rather shabby dress-suit, his boots are awkward, and his tie ready-made._ BETTY, _a handsome woman of thirty, wearing a very pretty tea-gown, is talking to the maid at the back of the dining-room._

HECTOR _puts down his gla.s.s and comes into the sitting-room, followed by_ WALTER. HECTOR _is puffing at a short, stumpy little black cigar._

HECTOR [_Talking as he comes through, continuing the conversation--he walks to the fireplace and stands with his back to it._] I tell you, if I'd known what it meant, I'd never have taken the job! Sounded so fine, to be reader of plays for the Duke's Theatre--adviser to the great Mr.

Honeyswill! And then--when the old man said I was to go to all the first nights--why, I just chortled! "It's the first nights that show you the grip of the thing--that teach you most"--he said. Teach you! As though there were anything to learn! Oh my stars! I tell you, it's a dog's life!

WALTER. [_Sitting to left of the round table._] I'd change places with you, sonny.

HECTOR. You would, eh? That's what they all say! Four new plays this week, my lad--one yesterday, one to-day--another to-morrow, and the night after!

All day long I'm _reading_ plays--and I spend my nights seeing 'em! D'you know I read about two thousand a year? Divide two thousand by three hundred and sixty five. A dog's life--that's what it is!

WALTER. Better than being a stockbroker's clerk--you believe _me!_

HECTOR. Is it? I wish _you_ could have a turn at it, my bonny boy! _Your_ hair'd go grey, like mine! And look here--what are the plays to-day?

They're either so chock-full of intellect that they send you to sleep--or they reek of sentiment till you yearn for the smell of a cabbage!

WALTER. Well, you've the change, at any rate.

HECTOR. [_Snorting._] Change? By Jove, give me a Punch and Judy show on the sands--or performing dogs! Plays--I'm sick of 'em! And look here--the one I'm off to to-night. It's adapted from the French--well, we know what _that_ means. Husband, wife and mistress. Or wife, husband, lover. That's what a French play means. And you make it English, and pa.s.s the Censor, by putting the lady in a mackintosh, and dumping in a curate!

BETTY. [_Coming in, and closing the door leading to the dining-room._] You ought to be going, Hector.

[_She, stands listening for a moment, then goes through the other door into the hall._

HECTOR. [_Disregarding her, too intent on his theme._] And I tell you, of the two, I prefer the home-made stodge. I'm sick of the eternal triangle.

They always do the same thing. Husband strikes att.i.tudes--sometimes he strikes the lover. The lover never stands up to him--why shouldn't he? He would--in real life. [BETTY _comes back, with his overcoat and m.u.f.fler--she proceeds affectionately to wrap this round his neck, and helps him on with his coat, he talking all the time._] He'd say, look here, you go to h.e.l.l. _That's_ what he'd say--well, there you'd have a situation. But not one of the playwriting chaps dares do it. Why not, I ask you? There you'd have truth, something big. But no--they're afraid--think the public won't like it. The husband's got to down the lover--like a big tom-cat with a mouse--or the author'd have to sell one of his motor-cars! That's just the fact of it!

BETTY. [_Looking at the clock on the mantelpiece._] Twenty-five past, Hector.

HECTOR. [_Cheerily._] All right, my la.s.s, I'm off. By-bye, Walter--keep the old woman company for a bit. Good-bye, sweetheart. [_He kisses her._]

Don't wait up. Now for the drama. Oh, the dog's life!

[_He goes._ BETTY _waits till the hall door has banged, then she sits on the elbow of_ WALTER'S _chair, and rests her head on his shoulder._

BETTY. [_Softly._] Poor Hector!

WALTER. [_Uncomfortably._] ... Yes ...

BETTY. Doesn't it make you feel dreadful when he talks like that? [_She kisses him; then puts her arms round his neck, draws his face to her, and kisses him again, on the cheek._] Doesn't it?

[_She nestles contentedly closer to him._

WALTER. [_Trying to edge away._] Well, it does. Yes.

BETTY. [_Dreamily._] I--like it.

WALTER. Betty!

BETTY. Yes, I like it. I don't know why. I suppose I'm frightfully wicked.

Or the danger perhaps--I don't know.

WALTER. [_Making a futile effort to get up._] Betty--

BETTY. [_Tightening her arms around him._] Stop there, and don't move. How smooth your chin is--_his_ sc.r.a.pes. Why don't husbands shave better? Or is it that the forbidden chin is always smoother? Poor old Hector! If he could see us! He hasn't a suspicion. I think it's lovely--really, I do. He leaves us here together, night after night, and imagines you're teaching me bridge.

WALTER. [_Restlessly._] So I am. Where are the cards?

BETTY. [_Caressing him._] Silly, have you forgotten that this is Tuesday--Maggie's night out? She's gone--I told her she needn't wait to clear away. We've arranged master's supper. Master! _You're_ my master, aren't you?

WALTER. ... I don't know what I am ...

BETTY. Oh yes you do--you're my boy. Whom I love. There. [_She kisses him again, full on the lips._] That was a nice one, wasn't it? Poor old Hector, sitting in his stall--thinks he's so wonderful, knows such a lot!

Yes, Maggie's out--with _her_ young man, I suppose. The world's full of women, with their young men--and husbands sitting in the stalls.... And I suppose that's how it always has been, and always will be.

WALTER. [_s.h.i.+fting uneasily._] Don't, Betty--I don't like it. I mean, he has such confidence in us.

BETTY. Of course he has. And quite rightly. Aren't you his oldest friend?

WALTER. [_With something of a groan._] I've known him since I was seven.

BETTY. The first man he introduced me to--his best man at the wedding--do you remember coming to see us during the honeymoon? I liked you _then._

WALTER. [_Really shocked._] Betty!

BETTY. I did. You had a way of squeezing my hand.... And then when we came back here. You know it didn't take me long to discover--

WALTER. [_Protesting._] I scarcely saw you the first two or three years!