What Every Woman Knows Part 8

JOHN. No, no.

MAGGIE. But you glowered.

JOHN. I was thinking of Sir Peregrine. Just because I beat him at the poll he took a shabby revenge; he congratulated me in French, a language I haven't taken the trouble to master.

MAGGIE [becoming a little taller]. Would it help you, John, if you were to marry a woman that could speak French?

DAVID [quickly]. Not at all.

MAGGIE [gloriously]. Mon cher Jean, laissez-moi parler le francais, voulez-vous un interprete?

JOHN. Hullo!

MAGGIE. Je suis la soeur francaise de mes deux freres ecossais.

DAVID [wors.h.i.+pping her]. She's been learning French.

JOHN [lightly]. Well done.

MAGGIE [grandly]. They're arriving.

ALICK. Who?

MAGGIE. Our guests. This is London, and Mrs. John Shand is giving her first reception. [Airily] Have I told you, darling, who are coming to-night? There's that dear Sir Peregrine. [To ALICK] Sir Peregrine, this is a pleasure. Avez-vous...So sorry we beat you at the poll.

JOHN. I'm doubting the baronet would sit on you, Maggie.

MAGGIE. I've invited a lord to sit on the baronet. Voila!

DAVID [delighted]. You thing! You'll find the lords expensive.

MAGGIE. Just a little cheap lord. [JAMES enters importantly.] My dear Lord Cheap, this is kind of you.

[JAMES hopes that MAGGIE's reason is not unbalanced.]

DAVID [who really ought to have had education]. How de doo, Cheap?

JAMES [bewildered]. Maggie---

MAGGIE. Yes, do call me Maggie.

ALICK [grinning]. She's practising her first party, James. The swells are at the door.

JAMES [heavily]. That's what I came to say. They are at the door.

JOHN. Who?

JAMES. The swells; in their motor. [He gives JOHN three cards.]

JOHN. 'Mr. Tenterden.'

DAVID. Him that was speaking for you?

JOHN. The same. He's a whip and an Honourable. 'Lady Sybil Tenterden.'

[Frowns.] Her! She's his sister.

MAGGIE. A married woman?

JOHN. No. 'The Comtesse de la Briere.'

MAGGIE [the scholar]. She must be French.

JOHN. Yes; I think she's some relation. She's a widow.

JAMES. But what am I to say to them? ['Mr. Shand's compliments, and he will be proud to receive them' is the very least that the Wylies expect.]

JOHN [who was evidently made for great ends]. Say I'm very busy, but if they care to wait I hope presently to give them a few minutes.

JAMES [thunderstruck]. Good G.o.d, Mr. Shand!

[But it makes him JOHN'S more humble servant than ever, and he departs with the message.]

JOHN [not unaware of the sensation he has created]. I'll go up and let the crowd see me from the window.

MAGGIE. But--but--what are we to do with these ladies?

JOHN [as he tramps upwards]. It's your reception, Maggie; this will prove you.

MAGGIE [growing smaller]. Tell me what you know about this Lady Sybil?

JOHN. The only thing I know about her is that she thinks me vulgar.

MAGGIE. You?

JOHN. She has attended some of my meetings, and I'm told she said that.

MAGGIE. What could the woman mean?

JOHN. I wonder. When I come down I'll ask her.

[With his departure MAGGIE'S nervousness increases.]

ALICK [encouragingly]. In at them, Maggie, with your French.

MAGGIE. It's all slipping from me, father.

DAVID [gloomily]. I'm sure to say 'for to come for to go.'

[The newcomers glorify the room, and MAGGIE feels that they have lifted her up with the tongs and deposited her in one of the basins. They are far from intending to be rude; it is not their fault that thus do swans scatter the ducks. They do not know that they are guests of the family, they think merely that they are waiting with other strangers in a public room; they undulate inquiringly, and if MAGGIE could undulate in return she would have no cause for offence. But she suddenly realises that this is an art as yet denied her, and that though DAVID might buy her evening-gowns as fine as theirs [and is at this moment probably deciding to do so], she would look better carrying them in her arms than on her person. She also feels that to emerge from wraps as they are doing is more difficult than to plank your money on the counter for them. The COMTESSE she could forgive, for she is old; but LADY SYBIL is young and beautiful and comes lazily to rest like a stately s.h.i.+p of Tarsus.]