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Title:  The Story of the Gadsby

Author:  Rudyard Kipling

September, 2001  [Etext #2821]
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The Story of the Gadsby

by Rudyard Kipling




Preface

Poor Dear Mamma
The World Without
The Tents of Kedar
With Any Amazement
The Garden of Eden
Fatima
The Valley of the Shadow
The Swelling of Jordan




Preface

To THE ADDRESS OF

CAPTAIN J. MAFFLIN,

Duke of Derry's (Pink) Hussars.

DEAR MAFFLIN,-You will remember that I wrote this story as an
Awful Warning. None the less you have seen fit to disregard it and
have followed Gadsby's example--as I betted you would.  I
acknowledge that you paid the money at once, but you have
prejudiced the mind of Mrs. Mafflin against myself, for though I
am almost the only respectable friend of your bachelor days, she
has been darwaza band to me throughout the season.  Further, she
caused you to invite me to dinner at the Club, where you called me
"a wild ass of the desert," and went home at half-past ten, after
discoursing for twenty minutes on the responsibilities of
housekeeping.  You now drive a mail-phaeton and sit under a
Church of England clergyman.  I am not angry, Jack. It is your
kismet, as it was Gaddy's, and his kismet who can avoid? Do not
think that I am moved by a spirit of revenge as I write, thus
publicly, that you and you alone are responsible for this book. In
other and more expansive days, when you could look at a magnum
without flushing and at a cheroot without turning white, you
supplied me with most of the material. Take it back again-would
that I could have preserved your fatherless speech in the
telling-take it back, and by your slippered hearth read it to the late
Miss Deercourt. She will not be any the more willing to receive
my cards, but she will admire you immensely, and you, I feel sure,
will love me. You may even invite me to another very bad
dinner-at the Club, which, as you and your wife know, is a safe
neutral ground for the entertainment of wild asses. Then, my very
dear hypocrite, we shall be quits.

Yours always,

RUDYARD KIPLING.

P. S.-On second thoughts I should recommend you to keep the
book away from Mrs. Mafflin.




POOR DEAR MAMMA

The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky, The deer to the wholesome
wold,  And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid, As it was in
the days of old. Gypsy Song.

SCENE. - Interior of Miss MINNIE THREEGAN'S Bedroom at
Simla. Miss THREEGAN, in window-seat, turning over a
drawerful of things.  Miss EMMA DEERCOURT, bosom - friend,
who has come to spend the day, sitting on the bed, manipulating
the bodice of a ballroom frock, and a bunch of artificial lilies of
the valley. Time, 5:30 P. M. on a hot May afternoon.

Miss DEERCOURT.  And he said: "I shall never forget this
dance," and, of course, I said: "Oh, how can you be so silly!"  Do
you think he meant any-thing, dear?

Miss THREEGAN.  (Extracting long lavender silk stocking from
the rubbish.) You know him better than I do.

Miss D.  Oh, do be sympathetic, Minnie!  I'm sure he does. At least
I would be sure if he wasn't always riding with that odious Mrs.
Hagan.

Miss T.  I suppose so.  How does one manage to dance through
one's heels first? Look at this-isn't it shameful? (Spreads
stocking-heel on open hand for inspection.)

Miss D.  Never mind that!  You can't mend it. Help me with this
hateful bodice. I've run the string so, and I've run the string so, and
I can't make the fulness come right.  Where would you put this?
(Waves lilies of the valley.)

Miss T. As high up on the shoulder as possible.

Miss D. Am I quite tall enough? I know it makes May Older look
lopsided.

Miss T. Yes, but May hasn't your shoulders. Hers are like a
hock-bottle.

BEARER.  (Rapping at door.)  Captain Sahib aya.

Miss D. (Jumping up wildly, and hunting for bodice, which she has
discarded owing to the heat of the day.) Captain Sahib!  What
Captain Sahib? Oh, good gracious, and I'm only half dressed! 
Well, I sha'n't bother.

Miss T. (Calmly.) You needn't. It isn't for us.  That's Captain
Gadsby. He is going for a ride with Mamma. He generally comes
five days out of the seven.

AGONIZED VOICE.  (Prom an inner apartment.) Minnie, run out
and give Captain Gadsby some tea, and tell him I shall be ready in
ten minutes; and, O Minnie, come to me an instant, there's a dear
girl!

Miss T. Oh, bother! (Aloud.) Very well, Mamma.

Exit, and reappears, after five minutes, flushed, and rubbing her
fingers.

Miss D. You look pink. What has happened?

Miss T.  (In a stage whisper.) A twenty-four-inch waist, and she
won't let it out.  Where are my bangles? (Rummager on the
toilet-table, and dabs at her hair with a brush in the interval.)

Miss D. Who is this Captain Gadsby? I don't think I've met him.

Miss T. You must have. He belongs to the Harrar set.  I've danced
with him, but I've never talked to him. He's a big yellow man, just
like a newly-hatched chicken, with an enormous moustache. He
walks like this (imitates Cavalry swagger), and he goes
"Ha-Hmmm!" deep down in his throat when he can't think of
anything to say. Mamma likes him. I don't.

Miss D.  (Abstractedly.)  Does he wax that moustache?

Miss T.  (Busy with Powder-puff.) Yes, I think so. Why?

Miss D.  (Bending over the bodice and sewing furiously.) Oh,
nothing-only-Miss T. (Sternly.) Only what? Out with it, Emma.

Miss D.  Well, May Olger-she's engaged to Mr. Charteris, you
know-said-Promise you won't repeat this?

Miss T. Yes, I promise. What did she say?

Miss D.  That-that being kissed (with a rush) with a man who
didn't wax his moustache was-like eating an egg without salt.

Miss T. (At her full height, with crushing scorn.) May Olger is a
horrid, nasty Thing, and you can tell her I said so. I'm glad she
doesn't belong to my set-I must go and feed this man! Do I look
presentable?

Miss D.  Yes, perfectly.  Be quick and hand him over to your
Mother, and then we can talk. I shall listen at the door to hear what
you say to him.

Miss T. 'Sure I don't care. I'm not afraid of Captain Gadsby.

In proof of this swings into the drawing-room with a mannish
stride followed by two short steps, which Produces the effect of a
restive horse entering. Misses CAPTAIN GADSBY, who is sitting
in the shadow of the window-curtain, and gazes round helplessly.

CAPTAIN GADSBY.  (Aside.)  The filly, by Jove! 'Must ha'
picked up that action from the sire.  (Aloud, rising.) Good evening,
Miss Threegan.

Miss T.  (Conscious that she is flushing.) Good evening, Captain
Gadsby. Mamma told me to say that she will be ready in a few
minutes. Won't you have some tea?  (Aside.) I hope Mamma will
be quick. What am I to say to the creature?  (Aloud and abruptly.)
Milk and sugar?

CAPT. G.  No sugar, tha-anks, and very little milk. Ha-Hmmm.

Miss T.  (Aside.) If he's going to do that, I'm lost.  I shall laugh.  I
know I shall!

CAPT. G.  (Pulling at his moustache and watching it sideways
down his nose.)  Ha-Hamm. (Aside.) 'Wonder what the little beast
can talk about. 'Must make a shot at it.

Miss T. (Aside.) Oh, this is agonizing. I must say something.

Both Together. Have you Been-CAPT. G. I beg your pardon. You
were going to say-Miss T.  (Who has been watching the moustache
with awed fascination.) Won't you have some eggs?

CAPT. G.  (Looking bewilderedly at the tea-table.)  Eggs!  (Aside.) 
O Hades!  She must have a nursery-tea at this hour. S'pose they've
wiped her mouth and sent her to me while the Mother is getting on
her duds. (Aloud.) No, thanks.

Miss T.  (Crimson with confusion.) Oh!  I didn't mean that.  I
wasn't thinking of mou-eggs for an instant. I mean salt.  Won't you
have some sa-sweets?  (Aside.)  He'll think me a raving lunatic. I
wish Mamma would come.

CAPT. G. (Aside.) It was a nursery-tea and she's ashamed of it. By
Jove! She doesn't look half bad when she colors up like that. 
(Aloud, helping himself from the dish.) Have you seen those new
chocolates at Peliti's?

Miss T.  No, I made these myself. What are they like?

CAPT. G. These! De-licious. (Aside.) And that's a fact.

Miss T. (Aside.) Oh, bother! he'll think I'm fishing for
compliments. (Aloud.) No, Peliti's of course.

CAPT. G. (Enthusiastically.) Not to compare with these. How
d'you make them?  I can't get my khansamah to understand the
simplest thing beyond mutton and fowl.

Miss T. Yes? I'm not a khansamah, you know.  Perhaps you
frighten him. You should never frighten a servant. He loses his
head.  It's very bad policy.

CAPT. G. He's so awf'ly stupid.

Miss T.  (Folding her hands in her Zap.) You should call him
quietly and say:  "O khansamah jee!"

CAPT. G. (Getting interested.) Yes? (Aside.) Fancy that little
featherweight saying, "O khansamah jee" to my bloodthirsty Mir
Khan!

Miss T  Then you should explain the dinner, dish by dish.

CAPT. G. But I can't speak the vernacular.

Miss T. (Patronizingly.) You should pass the Higher Standard and
try.

CAPT. G.  I have, but I don't seem to be any the wiser. Are you?

Miss T. I never passed the Higher Standard.  But the khansamah is
very patient with me. He doesn't get angry when I talk about
sheep's topees, or order maunds of grain when I mean seers.

CAPT. G.  (Aside with intense indignation.) I'd like to see Mir
Khan being rude to that girl! Hullo!  Steady the Buffs!  (Aloud.)
And do you understand about horses, too?

Miss T. A little-not very much. I can't doctor them, but I know
what they ought to eat, and I am in charge of our stable.

CAPT. G. Indeed! You might help me then.  What ought a man to
give his sais in the Hills?  My ruffian says eight rupees, because
everything is so dear.

Miss T. Six rupees a month, and one rupee Simla allowance-
neither more nor less.  And a grass-cut gets six rupees. That's
better than buying grass in the bazar.

CAPT. G.  (Admiringly.)  How do you know?

Miss T. I have tried both ways.

CAPT. G. Do you ride much, then? I've never seen you on the
Mall.

Miss T. (Aside.)  I haven't passed him more than fifty times. 
(Aloud.) Nearly every day.

CAPT. G. By Jove!  I didn't know that. Ha-Hamm  (Pulls at his
mousache and is silent for forty seconds.) Miss T.  (Desperately,
and wondering what will happen next.) It looks beautiful.  I
shouldn't touch it if I were you. (Aside.) It's all Mamma's fault for
not coming before. I will be rude!

CAPT. G. (Bronzing under the tan and bringing down his hand
very quickly.) Eh! What-at! Oh, yes! Ha! Ha! (Laughs uneasily.)  
(Aside.) Well, of all the dashed cheek! I never had a woman say
that to me yet. She must be a cool hand or else-Ah! that
nursery-tea!

VOICE PROM THE UNKNOWN. Tchk! Tchk!  Tchk!

CAPT. G. Good gracious!  What's that?

Miss T. The dog, I think. (Aside.) Emma has been listening, and
I'll never forgive her!

CAPT. G. (Aside.) They don't keep dogs here.  (Aloud.)  'Didn't
sound like a dog, did it?

Miss T. Then it must have been the cat. Let's go into the veranda.
What a lovely evening it is!

Steps into veranda and looks out across the hills into sunset. The
CAPTAIN follows.

CAPT. G. (Aside.) Superb eyes!  I wonder that I never noticed
them before!  (Aloud.)  There's going to he a dance at Viceregal
Lodge on Wednesday.  Can you spare me one?

Miss T. (Shortly.)  No!  I don't want any of your charity-dances.
You only ask me because Mamma told you to. I hop and I bump.
You know I do!

CAPT. G. (Aside.) That's true, but little girls shouldn't understand
these things. (Aloud.)  No, on my word, I don't.  You dance
beautifully.

Miss T. Then why do you always stand out after half a dozen
turns?  I thought officers in the Army didn't tell fibs.

CAPT. G. It wasn't a fib, believe me. I really do want the pleasure
of a dance with you.

Miss T.  (Wickedly.) Why? Won't Mamma dance with you any
more?

CAPT. G.  (More earnestly than the necessity demands.) I wasn't
thinking of your Mother.  (Aside.) You little vixen!

Miss T. (Still looking out of the window.)  Eh?  Oh, I beg your par
don. I was thinking of something else.

CAPT. G. (Aside.) Well! I wonder what she'll say next. I've never
known a woman treat me like this before.  I might be--Dash it, I
might be an Infantry subaltern!  (Aloud.) Oh, please don't trouble. 
I'm not worth thinking about. Isn't your Mother ready yet?

Miss T.  I should think so; but promise me, Captain Gadsby, you
won't take poor dear Mamma twice round Jakko any more. It tires
her so.

CAPT. G.  She says that no exercise tires her.

Miss T. Yes, but she suffers afterward.  You don't know what
rheumatism is, and you oughtn't to keep her out so late, when it
gets chill in the evenings.

CAPT. G. (Aside.)  Rheumatism. I thought she came off her horse
rather in a bunch.  Whew!  One lives and learns.  (Aloud.)  I'm
sorry to hear that. She hasn't mentioned it to me.

Miss T. (Flurried.) Of course not! Poor dear Mamma never would. 
And you mustn't say that I told you either. Promise me that you
won't. Oh, CAPTAIN Gadsby, promise me you won't I

CAPT. G. I am dumb, or-I shall be as soon as you've given me that
dance, and another-if you can trouble yourself to think about me
for a minute.

Miss T.  But you won't like it one little bit. You'll be awfully sorry
afterward.

CAPT. G. I shall like it above all things, and I shall only be sorry
that I didn't get more.  (Aside.)  Now what in the world am I
saying?

Miss T. Very well.  You will have only yourself to thank if your
toes are trodden on.  Shall we say Seven?

CAPT.  G. And Eleven.  (Aside.) She can't be more than eight
stone, but, even then, it's an absurdly small foot. (Looks at his own
riding boots.)

Miss T. They're beautifully shiny. I can almost see my face in
them.

CAPT. G. I was thinking whether I should have to go on crutches
for the rest of my life if you trod on my toes.

Miss T.  Very likely.  Why not change Eleven for a square?

CAPT. G.  No, please! I want them both waltzes.  Won't you write
them down?

Miss T. J don't get so many dances that I shall confuse them. You
will be the offender.

CAPT. G. Wait and see!  (Aside.) She doesn't dance perfectly,
perhaps, but

Miss T. Your tea must have got cold by this time. Won't you have
another cup?

CAPT. G.  No, thanks.  Don't you think it's pleasanter out in the
veranda? (Aside.)  I never saw hair take that color in the sunshine
before. (Aloud.) It's like one of Dicksee's pictures.

Miss T. Yes I It's a wonderful sunset, isn't it?  (Bluntly.)  But what
do you know about Dicksee's pictures?

CAPT. G. I go Home occasionally. And I used to know the
Galleries. (Nervously.) You mustn't think me only a Philistine
with-a moustache.

Miss T. Don't! Please don't. I'm so sorry for what I said then. I was
horribly rude.  It slipped out before j thought.  Don't you know the
temptation to say frightful and shocking things just for the mere
sake of saying them? I'm afraid I gave way to it.

CAPT. G.  (Watching the girl as she flushes.)  I think I know the
feeling. It would be terrible if we all yielded to it, wouldn't it? For
instance, I might say-POOR DEAR MAMMA. (Entering, habited,
hatted, and booted.) Ah, Captain Gadsby?  'Sorry to keep you
waiting. 'Hope you haven't been bored.  'My little girl been talking
to you?

Miss T.  (Aside.)  I'm not sorry I spoke about the rheumatism. I'm
not! I'm NOT! I only wished I'd mentioned the corns too.

CAPT. G.  (Aside.) What a shame! I wonder how old she is. It
never occurred to me before.  (Aloud.) We've been discussing
"Shakespeare and the musical glasses" in the veranda.

Miss T.  (Aside.)  Nice man!  He knows that quotation. He isn't a
Philistine with a moustache.  (Aloud.) Good-bye, Captain Gadsby. 
(Aside.) What a huge hand and what a squeeze! I don't suppose he
meant it, but he has driven the rings into my fingers.

POOR DEAR MAMMA. Has Vermillion come round yet?  Oh,
yes!  Captain Gadsby, don't you think that the saddle is too far
forward? (They pass into the front veranda.)

CAPT. G. (Aside.) How the dickens should I know what she
prefers?  She told me that she doted on horses. (Aloud.)  I think it
is.

Miss T. (Coming out into front veranda.)  Oh!  Bad Buldoo!  I
must speak to him for this.  He has taken up the curb two links,
and Vermillion bates that.  (Passes out and to horse's head.)

CAPT.  G. Let me do it!

Miss. T. No, Vermillion understands me. Don't you, old man?
(Looses curb-chain skilfully, and pats horse on nose and throttle.) 
Poor Vermillion!  Did they want to cut his chin off? There!

Captain Gadsby watches the interlude with undisguised
admiration.

POOR DEAR MAMMA. (Tartly to Miss T.)  You've forgotten
your guest, I think, dear.

Miss T.  Good gracious! So I have! Good-bye. (Retreats indoors
hastily.)

POOR DEAR MAMMA.   (Bunching reins in fingers hampered by
too tight gauntlets.) CAPTAIN Gadsby!

CAPTAIN GADSBY stoops and makes the  foot-rest.   POOR 
DEAR MAMMA blunders, halts too long, and breaks through it.

CAPT. G.  (Aside.)  Can't hold up even stone forever. It's all your
rheumatism.  (Aloud.)  Can't imagine why I was so clumsy.
(Aside.) Now Little Featherweight would have gone up like a bird.

They ride oat of the garden. The Captain falls back.

CAPT. G.  (Aside.) How that habit catches her under the arms!
Ugh!

POOR DEAR MAMMA.   (With the worn smile of sixteen
seasons, the worse for exchange.)  You're dull this afternoon,
CAPTAIN Gadsby.

CAPT. G.  (Spurring up wearily.) Why did you keep me waiting so
long?

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

(AN INTERVAL OF THREE WEEKS.)

GILDED YOUTH.  (Sitting on railings opposite Town Hall.) 
Hullo, Gandy! 'Been trotting out the Gorgonzola! We all thought it
was the Gorgan you're mashing.

CAPT. G. (With withering emphasis.) You young cub! What the-
does it matter to you?

Proceeds to read GILDED YOUTH a lecture on discretion and
deportment, which crumbles latter like a Chinese Lantern. Departs
fuming.

(FURTHER INTERVAL OF FIVE WEEKS.) SCENE.-Exterior of
New Simla Library

on a foggy evening. Miss THREECAN and Miss DEERCOURT
meet among the 'rickshaws.  Miss T. is carrying a bundle of books
under her left arm.

Miss D. (Level intonation.) Well?

Miss 'I'.  (Ascending intonation.) Well?

Miss D. (Capturing her friend's left arm, taking away all the books,
placing books in 'rickshaw, returning to arm, securing hand by
third finger and investigating.)  Well!  You bad girl! And you
never told me.

Miss T.  (Demurely.) He-he-he only spoke yesterday afternoon.

Miss D.  Bless you, dear! And I'm to be bridesmaid, aren't I? You
know you promised ever so long ago.

Miss T. Of course. I'll tell you all about it to-morrow.  (Gets into
'rickshaw.)  O Emma!

Miss D.  (With intense interest.) Yes, dear?

Miss T. (Piano.) It's quite true- - - about-the-egg.

Miss D. What egg?

Miss T.  (Pianissimo prestissimo.) The egg without the salt. 
(Porte.) Chalo ghar ko jaldi, jhampani!  (Go home, jhampani.)

THE WORLD WITHOUT

Certain people of importance.

SCENE.-Smoking-room of the Degchi Club. Time, 10.30 P. M. of
a stuffy night in the Rains. Four men dispersed in picturesque
attitudes and easy-chairs.  To these enter BLAYNE of the Irregular
Moguls, in evening dress.

BLAYNE.  Phew!  The Judge ought to be hanged in his own
store-godown. Hi, khitmatgarl Poora whiskey-peg, to take the taste
out of my mouth.

CURTISS.  (Royal Artillery.)  That's it, is it?  What the deuce
made you dine at the Judge's?  You know his bandobust.

BLAYNE.  'Thought it couldn't be worse than the Club, but I'll
swear he buys ullaged liquor and doctors it with gin and ink
(looking round the room.) Is this all of you to-night?

DOONE.  (P.W.D.)  Anthony was called out at dinner.  Mingle had
a pain in his tummy.

CURTISS. Miggy dies of cholera once a week in the Rains, and
gets drunk on chlorodyne in between.  'Good little chap, though.
Any one at the Judge's, Blayne?

BLAYNE. Cockley and his memsahib looking awfully white and
fagged. 'F('.male girl-couldn't catch the name-on her way to the
Hills, under the Cockleys' charge-the Judge, and Markyn fresh
from Simla-disgustingly fit.

CURTISS. Good Lord, how truly magnificent! Was there enough
ice? When I mangled garbage there I got one whole lump-nearly as
big as a walnut. What had Markyn to say for himself?

BLAYNE.  'Seems that every one is having a fairly good time up
there in spite of the rain.  By Jove, that reminds me! I know I
hadn't come across just for the pleasure of your society. News! 
Great news!  Markyn told me.

DOONE. Who's dead now?

BLAYNE.  No one that I know of; but Gandy's hooked at last!

DROPPING CHORUS. How much? The Devil!  Markyn was
pulling your leg. Not GANDY!

BLAYNE. (Humming.) "Yea, verily, verily, verily!  Verily, verily,
I say unto thee."  Theodore, the gift o' God!  Our Phillup!  It's been
given out up above.

MACKESY. (Barrister-at-Law.) Huh! Women will give out
anything.  What does accused say?

BLAYNE.  Markyn told me that he congratulated him warily-one
hand held out, t'other ready to guard. Gandy turned pink and said it
was so.

CURTISS. Poor old Caddy! They all do it. Who's she? Let's hear
the details.

BLAYNE. She's a girl-daughter of a Colonel Somebody.

DOONE.  Simla's stiff with Colonels' daughters.  Be more explicit.

BLAYNE.  Wait a shake. What was her name? Thresomething.
Three-

CURTISS.  Stars, perhaps.  Caddy knows that brand.

BLAYNE. Threegan-Minnie Threegan.

MACKESY. Threegan   Isn't she a little bit of a girl with red hair?

BLAYNE. 'Bout that-from what from what Markyn said.

MACKESY. Then I've met her.  She was at Lucknow last season.
'Owned a permanently  juvenile  Mamma,  and danced damnably. I
say, Jervoise, you knew the Threegans, didn't you?

JERVOISE.  (Civilian of twenty-five years' service, waking up
from his doze.) Eh? What's that? Knew who? How? I thought I was
at Home, confound you!

MACKESY.  The Threegan girl's engaged, so Blayne says.

JERVOISE.  (Slowly.)  Engaged-en-gaged!  Bless my soul! I'm
getting an old man!  Little Minnie Threegan engaged. It was only
the other day I went home with them in the Surat-no, the Massilia-
and she was crawling about on her hands and knees among the
ayahs. 'Used to call me the "Tick Tack Sakib" because I showed
her my watch. And that was in Sixty-Seven-no, Seventy.  Good
God, how time flies! I'm an old man. I remember when Threegan
married Miss Derwent-daughter of old Hooky Derwent-but that
was before your time. And so the little baby's engaged to have a
little baby of her own!  Who's the other fool?

MACKESY. Gadsby of the Pink Hussars.

JERVOISE.  'Never met him.  Threegan lived in debt, married in
debt, and 'll die in debt.  'Must be glad to get the girl off his hands.

BLAYNE.  Caddy has money-lucky devil. Place at Home, too.

DOONE.  He comes of first-class stock.  'Can't quite understand
his being caught by a Colonel's daughter, and (looking cautiously
round room.) Black Infantry at that!  No offence to you, Blayne.

BLAYNE.  (Stiffly.) Not much, thaanks.

CURTISS. (Quoting motto of Irregular Moguls.)  "We are what we
are," eh, old man? But Gandy was such a superior animal as a rule.
Why didn't he go Home and pick his wife there?

MACKESY.  They are all alike when they come to the turn into
the straight. About thirty a man begins to get sick of living alone.

CURTISS. And of the eternal muttony-chop in the morning.

DOONE.  It's a dead goat as a rule, but go on, Mackesy.

MACKESY.  If a man's once taken that way nothing will hold him, 
Do you remember Benoit of your service, Doone? They transferred
him to Tharanda when his time came, and he married a platelayer's
daughter, or something of that kind.  She was the only female
about the place.

DONE.  Yes, poor brute.  That smashed Benoit's chances of
promotion altogether.  Mrs. Benoit used to ask "Was you gem' to
the dance this evenin'?"

CURTISS. Hang it all! Gandy hasn't married beneath him.  There's
no tarbrush in the family, I suppose.

JERVOISE. Tar-brush!  Not an anna. You young fellows talk as
though the man was doing the girl an honor in marrying her.
You're all too conceited-nothing's good enough for you.

BLAYNE.  Not even an empty Club, a dam' bad dinner at the
Judge's, and a Station as sickly as a hospital. You're quite right.
We're a set of Sybarites. 

DOONE.  Luxurious dogs, wallowing in-

CURTISS.  Prickly heat between the shoulders. I'm covered with
it. Let's hope Beora will be cooler.

BLAYNE.  Whew!  Are you ordered into camp, too?  I thought the
Gunners had a clean sheet.

CURTISS.  No, worse luck. Two cases yesterday-one died-and if
we have a third, out we go. Is there any shooting at Beora, Doone?

DOONE.  The country's under water, except the patch by the
Grand Trunk Road.  I was there yesterday, looking at a bund, and
came across four poor devils in their last stage.  It's rather bad
from here to Kuchara.

CURTISS.  Then we're pretty certain to have a heavy go of it.
Heigho!  I shouldn't mind changing places with Gaddy for a while.
'Sport with Amaryllis in the shade of the Town Hall, and all that. 
Oh, why doesn't somebody come and marry me, instead of letting
me go into cholera-camp?

MACKESY. Ask the Committee.

CURTISS. You ruffian!  You'll stand me another peg for that.
Blayne, what will you take?  Mackesy is fine on moral grounds. 
Done, have you any preference?

DONE. Small glass Kummel, please. Excellent carminative, these
days. Anthony told me so.

MACKESY. (Signing voucher for four drinks.)  Most unfair
punishment.  I only thought of Curtiss as Actaeon being chivied
round the billiard tables by the nymphs of Diana.

BLAYNE.  Curtiss would have to import his nymphs by train. Mrs.
Cockley's the only woman in the Station. She won't leave Cockley,
and he's doing his best to get her to go.

CURTISS.  Good, indeed!  Here's Mrs. Cockley's health.  To the
only wife in the Station and a damned brave woman!

OMNES.  (Drinking.)  A damned brave woman

BLAVNE. I suppose Gandy will bring his wife here at the end of
the cold weather. They are going to be married almost
immediately, I believe.

CURTISS. Gandy may thank his luck that the Pink Hussars are all
detachment and no headquarters this hot weather, or he'd be torn
from the arms of his love as sure as death.  Have you ever noticed
the thorough-minded way British Cavalry take to cholera? It's
because they are so expensive. If the Pinks had stood fast here,
they would have been out in camp a. month ago. Yes, I should 
decidedly like to be Gandy.

MACKESY. He'll go Home after he's married, and send in his
papers-see if he doesn't.

BLAYNE. Why shouldn't he? Hasn't he money?  Would any one of
us be here if we weren't paupers?

DONE. Poor old pauper! What has become of the six hundred you
rooked from our table last month?

BLAYNE.  It took unto itself wings. I think an enterprising
tradesman got some of it, and a shroff gobbled the rest-or else I
spent it.

CURTISS.  Gandy never had dealings with a shroff in his life.

DONE. Virtuous Gandy!  If I had three thousand a month, paid
from England, I don't think I'd deal with a shroff either.

MACKESY.  (Yawning.)  Oh, it's a sweet life!  I wonder whether
matrimony would make it sweeter.

CURTISS.  Ask Cockley-with his wife dying by inches!

BLAYNE. Go home and get a fool of a girl to come out to-what is
it Thackeray says?-"the splendid palace of an Indian pro-consul."

DOONE.  Which reminds me.  My quarters leak like a sieve. I had
fever last night from sleeping in a swamp. And the worst of it is,
one can't do anything to a roof till the Rains are over.

CURTISS.  What's wrong with you? You haven't eighty rotting
Tommies to take into a running stream.

DONE.  No: but I'm mixed boils and bad language.  I'm a regular
Job all over my body.  It's sheer poverty of blood, and I don't see
any chance of getting richer-either way.

BLAYNE. Can't you take leave? DONE.  That's the pull you Army
men have over us. Ten days are nothing in your sight.  I'm so
important that Government can't find a substitute if I go away. 
Ye-es, I'd like to be Gandy, whoever his wife may be.

CURTISS. You've passed the turn of life that Mackesy was
speaking of.

DONE. Indeed I have, but I never yet had the brutality to ask a
woman to share my life out here.

BLAvNE. On my soul I believe you're right.  I'm thinking of Mrs.
Cockley. The woman's an absolute wreck.

DONE. Exactly.  Because she stays down here. The only way to
keep her fit would be to send her to the Hills for eight months-and
the same with any woman. I fancy I see myself taking a wife on
those terms.

MACKESY.  With the rupee at one and sixpence. The little
Doones would be little Debra Doones, with a fine Mussoorie
chi-chi anent to bring home for the holidays.

CURTISS.  And a pair of be-ewtiful sambhur-horns for Done to
wear, free of expense, presented by-DONE. Yes, it's an enchanting
prospect.  By the way, the rupee hasn't done falling yet. The time
will come when we shall think ourselves lucky if we only lose half
our pay.

CURTISS. Surely a third's loss enough. Who gains by the
arrangement? That's what I want to know.

BLAYNE. The Silver Question! I'm going to bed if you begin
squabbling Thank  Goodness,  here's  Anthony-looking like a
ghost.

Enter ANTHONY, Indian Medical Staff, very white and tired.

ANTHONY.  'Evening, Blayne.  It's raining in sheets.  Whiskey
peg lao, khitmatgar.  The roads are something ghastly.

CURTISS. How's Mingle?

ANTHONY.  Very bad, and more frightened. I handed him over to
Few-ton.  Mingle might just as well have called him in the first
place, instead of bothering me.

BLAYNE. He's a nervous little chap. What has he got, this time?

ANTHONY. 'Can't quite say. A very bad tummy and a blue funk so
far. He asked me at once if it was cholera, and I told him not to be
a fool.  That soothed him.

CURTIS. Poor devil! The funk does half the business in a man of
that build.

ANTHONY.  (Lighting a cheroot.)  I firmly believe the funk will
kill him if he stays down. You know the amount of trouble he's
been giving Fewton for the last three weeks.  He's doing his very
best to frighten himself into the grave.

GENERAL CHORUS. Poor little devil! Why doesn't he get away?

ANTHONY. 'Can't. He has his leave all right, but he's so dipped he
can't take it, and I don't think his name on paper would raise four
annas.  That's in confidence, though.

MACKESY. All the Station knows it.

ANTHONY. "I suppose I shall have to die here," he said,
squirming all across the bed. He's quite made up his mind to
Kingdom Come. And I know he has nothing more than a
wet-weather tummy if he could only keep a hand on himself.

BLAYNE.  That's bad.  That's very bad.  Poor little Miggy.  Good
little chap, too. I say-

ANTHONY. What do you say? 

BLAYNE.  Well, look here-anyhow. If it's like that-as you say-I
say fifty.

CURTISS. I say fifty.

MACKESY. I go twenty better.

DONE. Bloated Croesus of the Bar! I say fifty. Jervoise, what do
you say? Hi! Wake up!

JERVOISE. Eh? What's that? What's that?

CURTISS. We want a hundred rupees from you.  You're a
bachelor drawing a gigantic income, and there's a man in a hole.

JERVOISE.  What man?  Any one dead?

BLAYNE.  No, hut he'll die if you don't give the hundred. Here!
Here's a peg-voucher.  You can see what we've signed for, and
Anthony's man will come round to-morrow to collect it. So there
will be no trouble.

JERVOISE.  (Signing.)  One hundred, E. M. J. There you are
(feebly).  It isn't one of your jokes, is it?

BLAYNE. No, it really is wanted. Anthony, you were the biggest
poker-winner last week, and you've defrauded the tax-collector too
long. Sign!

ANTHONY.  Let's see.  Three fifties and  a  seventy-two 
twenty-three twenty-say four hundred and twenty. That'll give him
a month clear at the Hills.  Many thanks, you men.  I'll send round
the chaprassi to-morrow.

CURTISS.  You must engineer his taking the stuff, and of course
you mustn't-

ANTHONY.  Of course.  It would never do.  He'd weep with
gratitude over his evening drink.

BLAYNE. That's just what he would do, damn him. Oh!  I say,
Anthony, you pretend to know everything. Have you heard about
Gandy?

ANTHONY.  No.  Divorce Court at last?

BLAYNE. Worse. He's engaged!

ANTHONY. How much? He can't be!

BLAYNE.  He is. He's going to be married in a few weeks. Markyn
told me at the Judge's this evening.  It's pukka.

ANTHONY. You don't say so? Holy Moses! There'll be a shine in
the tents of Kedar.

CURTISS.  'Regiment cut up rough, think you?

ANTHONY.  'Don't know anything about the Regiment.

MACKESY.  It is bigamy, then? 

ANTHONY. Maybe. Do you mean to say that you men have
forgotten, or is there more charity in the world than I thought?

DONE. You don't look pretty when you are trying to keep a secret.
You bloat.  Explain.

ANTHONY. Mrs. Herriott! 

BLAYNE. (After a long pause, to the room generally.)  It's my
notion that we are a set of fools.

MACKESY. Nonsense. That business was knocked on the head
last season. Why, young Mallard-

ANTHONY.  Mallard was a candlestick, paraded as such. Think
awhile. Recollect last season and the talk then. Mallard or no
Mallard, did Gandy ever talk to any other woman?

CURTISS. There's something in that. It was slightly noticeable
now you come to mention it. But she's at Naini Tat and he's at
Simla.

ANTHONY.  He had to go to Simla to look after a globe-trotter
relative of his-a person with a title.  Uncle or aunt.

BLAYNE  And there he got engaged. No law prevents a man
growing tired of a woman.

ANTHONY.  Except that he mustn't do it till the woman is tired of
him. And the Herriott woman was not that.

CURTISS.  She may be now.  Two months of Naini Tal works
wonders.

DONE.  Curious thing how some women carry a Fate with them.
There was a Mrs. Deegie in the Central Provinces whose men
invariably fell away and got married.  It became a regular proverb
with us when I was down there. I remember three men desperately
devoted to her, and they all, one after another, took wives.

CURTISS. That's odd. Now I should have thought that Mrs.
Deegie's influence would have led them to take other men's wives. 
It ought to have made them afraid of the judgment of Providence.

ANTHONY. Mrs. Herriott will make Gandy afraid of something
more than the judgment of Providence, I fancy.

BLAYNE. Supposing things are as you say, he'll be a fool to face
her. He'll sit tight at Simla.

ANTHONY.  'Shouldn't be a bit surprised if he went off to Naini to
explain.  He's an unaccountable sort of man, and she's likely to be
a more than unaccountable woman.

DONE. What makes you take her character away so confidently?

ANTHONY. Primum tern pus.  Caddy was her first and a woman
doesn't allow her first man to drop away without expostulation.
She justifies the first transfer of affection to herself by swearing
that it is forever and ever.  Consequently-

BLAYNE.  Consequently, we are sitting here till past one o'clock,
talking scandal like a set of Station cats. Anthony, it's all your
fault.  We were perfectly respectable till you came in Go to bed.
I'm off, Good-night all.

CURTISS.  Past one!  It's past two by Jove, and here's the khit
coming for the late charge.  Just Heavens!  One, two, three, four,
five rupees to pay for the pleasure of saying that a poor little beast
of a woman is no better than she should be. I'm ashamed of myself.
Go to bed, you slanderous villains, and if I'm sent to Beora
to-morrow, be prepared to hear I'm dead before paying my card
account!

THE TENTS OF KEDAR

Only why should it be with pain at all  Why must I 'twix the leaves
of corona!  Put any kiss of pardon on thy brow? Why should the
other women know so much, And talk together -Such the look and
such The smile he used to love with, then as now. -Any Wife to
any Husband.

SCENE -A Naini Tal dinner for thirty-four.  Plate, wines, crockery,
and khitmatgars care fully calculated to scale of Rs. 6000 per
mensem, less Exchange. Table split lengthways by bank of
flowers.

MRS. HERRIOTT.  (After conversation has risen to proper pitch.) 
Ah! 'Didn't see you in the crush in the drawing-room.  (Sotto voce.) 
Where have you been all this while, Pip?

CAPTAIN GADSBY.  (Turning from regularly ordained dinner
partner and settling hock glasses.)  Good evening. (Sotto voce.) 
Not quite so loud another time.  You've no notion how your voice
carries. (Aside.)  So much for shirking the written explanation. It'll
have to be a verbal one now. Sweet prospect!  How on earth am I
to tell her that I am a respectable, engaged member of society and
it's all over between us?

MRS. H.  I've a heavy score against you. Where were you at the
Monday Pop?  Where were you on Tuesday? Where were you at
the Lamonts' tennis?  I was looking everywhere.

CAPT. G.  For me!  Oh, I was alive somewhere, I suppose. 
(Aside.)  It's for Minnie's sake, but it's going to be dashed
unpleasant.

MRS. H.  Have I done anything to offend you? I never meant it if I
have. I couldn't help going for a ride with the Vaynor man.  It was
promised a week before you came up.

CAPT. G. I didn't know-

MRS. H.  It really was.

CAPT. G. Anything about it, I mean.

MRS. H.  What has upset you today? All these days? You haven't
been near me for four whole days-nearly one hundred hours.  Was
it kind of you, Pip?  And I've been looking forward so much to
your coming.

CAPT. G. Have you?

MRS. H. You know I have! I've been as foolish as a schoolgirl
about it.  I made a little calendar and put it in my card-case, and
every time the twelve o'clock gun went off I scratched out a square
and said:  "That brings me nearer to Pip. My Pip!"

CAPT. G.  (With an uneasy laugh). What will Mackler think if you
neglect him so?

MRS. H. And it hasn't brought you nearer.  You seem farther away
than ever.  Are you sulking about something? I know your temper.

CAPT. G. No.

MRS. H.  Have I grown old in' the last few months, then? (Reaches
forward to bank of flowers for menu-card.)

PARTNER ON LEFT. Allow me. (Hands menu-card. MRS. H.
keeps her arm at full stretch for three seconds.)

MRS. H. (To partner.) Oh, thanks. I didn't see.  (Turns right again.)
Is anything in me changed at all?

CAPT. G.  For Goodness's sake go on with your dinner!  You must
eat something. Try one of those cutlet arrangements.  (Aside.) 
And I fancied she had good shoulders, once upon a time!  What an
ass a man can make of himself!

MRS. H.  (Helping herself to a paper frill, seven peas, some
stamped carrots and a spoonful of gravy.)  That isn't an answer. 
Tell me whether I have done anything.

CAPT. G. (Aside.) If it isn't ended here there will be a ghastly
scene some- where else. If only I'd written to her and stood the
racket-at long range! (To Khitmatgar.) Han! Simpkin do. (Aloud.) 
I'll tell you later on.

MRS. H. Tell me now. It must be some foolish misunderstanding,
and you know that there was to be nothing of that sort between us.
We) of all people in the world, can't afford it.  Is it the Vaynor
man, and don't you like to say so? On my honor-CAPT. G. I haven't
given the Vaynor man a thought.

MRS. H. But how d'you know that I haven't?

CAPT. G. (Aside.) Here's my chance and may the Devil help me
through with it. (Aloud and measuredly.)  Believe me, I do not care
how often or how tenderly you think of the Vaynor man.

MRS. H. I wonder if you mean that! Oh, what is the good of
squabbling and pretending to misunderstand when you are only up
for so short a time? Pip, don't be a stupid!

Follows a pause, during which he crosses his left leg over his right
and continues his dinner.

CAPT. G.  (In answer to the thunderstorm in her eyes.)   Corns-my
worst.

MRS. H.  Upon my word, you are the very rudest man in the
world! I'll never do it again.

CAPT. G. (Aside.) No, I don't think you will; but I wonder what
you will do before it's all over.  (To Khitmatgar.) Thorah ur
Simpkin do.

MRS. H.  Well!  Haven't you the grace to apologize, bad man?

CAPT. G.  (Aside.) I mustn't let it drift back now.  Trust a woman
for being as blind as a bat when she won't see.

MRS. H. I'm waiting; or would you like me to dictate a form of
apology?

CAPT. G.  (Desperately.)  By  all means dictate.

MRS. H. (Lightly.) Very well. Rehearse your several Christian
names after me and go on:  "Profess my sincere repentance."

CAPT. G. "Sincere repentance."

MRS. H.  "For having behaved"-

CAPT. G. (Aside.) At last! I wish to Goodness she'd look away. 
"For having behaved"-as I have behaved, and declare that I am
thoroughly and heartily sick of the whole business, and take this
opportunity of making clear my intention of ending it, now,
henceforward, and forever.  (Aside.)  If any one had told me I
should be such a blackguard!-

MRS. H. (Shaking a spoonful of potato chips into her plate.) That's
not a pretty joke.

CAPT. G. No. It's a reality. (Aside.) I wonder if smashes of this
kind are always so raw.

MRS. H. Really, Pip, you're getting more absurd every day.

CAPT. G. I don't think you quite understand me.  Shall I repeat it?

MRS. H. No!  For pity's sake don't do that. It's too terrible, even in
fur.

CAPT. G.  I'll let her think it over for a while. But I ought to be
horsewhipped.

MRS. H. I want to know what you meant by what you said just
now.

CAPT. G. Exactly what I said.  No less.

MRS. H.  But what have I done to deserve it? What have I done?

CAPT. G.   (Aside.)  If she only wouldn't look at me.  (Aloud and
very slowly, his eyes on his plate.)  D'you remember that evening
in July, before the Rains broke, when you said that the end would
have to come sooner or later-and you wondered for which of US it
would come first?

MRS. H. Yes!  I was only joking. And you swore that, as long as
there was breath in your body, it should never come. And I
believed you.

CAPT. G.  (Fingering  menu-card.) Well, it has. That's all.

A long pause, during which MRS. H. bows her head and rolls the
bread-twist into little pellets; G. stares at the oleanders.

MRS. H.  (Throwing back her head and laughing naturally.) They
train us women well, don't they, Pip?

CAPT. G.  (Brutally, touching shirt-stud.)  So far as the expression
goes. (Aside.)  It isn't in her nature to take things quietly. There'll
be an explosion yet.

MRS. H.  (With a shudder.) Thank you.  B-but even Red Indians
allow people to wriggle when they're being tortured, I believe. 
(Slips fan from girdle and fans slowly: rim of fan level with chin.)

PARTNER ON LEFT.  Very close tonight, isn't it?  'You find it too
much for you?

MRS. H. Oh, no, not in the least. But they really ought to have
punkahs, even in your cool Naini Tal, oughtn't they?  (Turns,
dropping fan and raising eyebrows.)

CAPT. G.  It's all right.  (Aside.) Here comes the storm!

MRS. H.  (Her eyes on the tablecloth: fan ready in right hand.) It
was very cleverly managed, Pip, and I congratulate you. You
swore-you never contented yourself with merely Saying a
thing-you swore that, as far as lay in your power, you'd make my
wretched life pleasant for me.  And you've denied me the
consolation of breaking down.  I should have done it-indeed I
should. A woman would hardly have thought of this refinement,
my kind, considerate friend.  (Fan-guard as before.)  You have
explained things so tenderly and truthfully, too!  You haven't
spoken or written a word of warning, and you have let me believe
in you till the last minute.  You haven't condescended to give me
your reason yet.  No!  A woman could not have managed it half so
well.  Are there many men like you in the world?

CAPT. G.  I'm sure I don't know. (To Khitmatgar.) Ohe! Simpkin
do.

MRS. H. You call yourself a man of the world, don't you? Do men
of the world behave like Devils when they a woman the honor to
get tired of her?

CAPT. G.  I'm sure I don't know. Don't speak so loud!

MRS. H.  Keep us respectable, O Lord, whatever happens.  Don't
be afraid of my compromising you. You've chosen your ground far
too well, and I've been properly brought up.  (Lowering fan.)
Haven't you any pity, Pip, except for yourself?

CAPT. G. Wouldn't it be rather impertinent of me to say that I'm
sorry for you?

MRS. H. I think you have said it once or twice before.  You're
growing very careful of my feelings. My God, Pip, I was a good
woman once! You said I was.  You've made me what I am.  What
are you going to do with me?  What are you going to do with me?
Won't you say that you are sorry? (Helps herself to iced asparagus.)

CAPT. G. I am sorry for you, if you Want the pity of such a brute
as I am. I'm awf'ly sorry for you.

MRS. H. Rather tame for a man of the world. Do you think that
that admission clears you?

CAPT. G. What can I do?  I can only tell you what I think of
myself. You can't think worse than that?

MRS. H. Oh, yes, I can! And now, will you tell me the reason of
all this? Remorse?  Has Bayard been suddenly conscience-
stricken?

CAPT. G. (Angrily, his eyes still lowered.)  No!  The thing has
come to an end on my side.  That's all. Mafisch!

MRS. H. "That's all. Mafisch!" As though I were a Cairene
Dragoman. You used to make prettier speeches. D'you remember
when you said?-

CAPT. G. For Heaven's sake don't bring that back!  Call me
anything you like and I'll admit it-

MRS. H.  But you don't care to be reminded of old lies? If I could
hope to hurt you one-tenth as much as you have hurt me
to-night-No, I wouldn't-I couldn't do it-liar though you are. 

CAPT. G. I've spoken the truth. 

MRS. H.  My dear Sir, you flatter yourself.  You have lied over the
reason.  Pip, remember that I know you as you don't know
yourself. You have heen everything to me, though you are-
(Fan-guard.)  Oh, what a contemptible Thing it is! And so you are
merely tired of me?

CAPT. G. Since you insist upon my repeating it-Yes.

Mas. H. Lie the first.  I wish I knew a coarser word. Lie seems so
in-effectual in your case. The fire has just died out and there is no
fresh one? Think for a minute, Pip, if you care whether I despise
you more than I do. Simply Mafisch, is it?

CAPT. G. Yes.  (Aside.) I think I deserve this.

MRS. H. Lie number two.  Before the next glass chokes you, tell
me her

name.

CAPT. G. (Aside.) I'll make her pay for dragging Minnie into the
business! (Aloud.)  Is it likely?

MRS. H. Very likely if you thought that it would flatter your
vanity. You'd cry my name on the house-tops to make people turn
round.

CAPT. G. I wish I had. There would have been an end to this
business.

MRS. H. Oh, no, there would not-And so you were going to be
virtuous and blase', were you?  To come to me and say:  "I've done
with you.  The incident is clo-osed."  I ought to be proud of having
kept such a man so long.

CAPT. G.  (Aside.)  It only remains to pray for the end of the
dinner. (Aloud.)  You know what I think of myself.

MRS. H. As it's the only person in he world you ever do think of,
and as I know your mind thoroughly, I do. Vou want to get it all
over and-Oh, I can't keep you back!  And you're going-think of it,
Pip-to throw me over for another woman.  And you swore that all
other women were-Pip, my Pip!  She can't care for you as I do.
Believe me, she can't. Is it any one that I know?

CAPT. G. Thank Goodness it isn't. (Aside.) I expected a cyclone,
but not an earthquake.

MRS. H.  She can't! Is there anything that I wouldn't do for you-or
haven't done?  And to think that I should take this trouble over you,
knowing what you are! Do you despise me for it?

CAPT. G. (Wiping his mouth to hide a smile.)  Again?  It's entirely
a work of charity on your part.

MRS. H. Ahhh! But I have no right to resent it.-Is she better-
looking than I? Who was it said?-

CAPT. G. No-not that! 

MRS. H. I'll be more merciful than you were.  Don't you know that
all women are alike?

CAPT. G.  (Aside.) Then this is the exception that proves the rule.

MRS. H. All of them!  I'll tell you anything you like. I will, upon
my word! They only want the admiration-from anybody-no  matter 
who-anybody! But there is always one man that they care for more
than any one else in the world, and would sacrifice all the others
to. Oh, do listen! I've kept the Vaynor man trotting after me like a
poodle, and he believes that he is the only man I am interested in. 
I'll tell you what he said to me.

CAPT. G.  Spare him.  (Aside.)  I wonder what his version is.

MRS. H.  He's been waiting for me to look at him all through
dinner. Shall I do it, and you can see what an idiot he looks?

CAPT. G. "But what imports the nomination of this gentleman?"

MRS. H. Watch!  (Sends a glance to the Vaynor man, who tries
vainly to combine a mouthful of ice pudding, a smirk of
self-satisfaction, a glare of intense devotion, and the stolidity of a
Bntish dining countenance.)

CAPT. G. (Critically.)  He doesn't look pretty.  Why didn't you
wait till the spoon was out of his mouth?

MRS. H. To amuse you.  She'll make an exhibition of you as I've
made of him; and people will laugh at you. Oh, Pip, can't you see
that?  It's as plain as the noonday Sun.  You'll be trotted about and
told lies, and made a fool of like the others. j never made a fool of
you, did I?

CAPT. G.  (Aside.)  What a clever little woman it is!

MRS. H. Well, what have you to say?

CAPT. G. I feel better.

MRS. H. Yes, I suppose so, after I have come down to your level. 
I couldn't have done it if I hadn't cared for you so much. I have
spoken the truth.

CAPT. G. It doesn't alter the situation.

MRS. H. (Passionately.)  Then she has said that she cares for you!
Don't believe her, Pip.  It's a lie-as bad as yours to me!

CAPT. G.  Ssssteady!  I've a notion that a friend of yours is looking
at you.

MRS. H. He!  I hate him. He introduced you to me.

CAPT.  G.  (Aside.) And some people would like women to assist
in making the laws.  Introduction to imply condonement. (Aloud.)
Well, you see, if you can remember so far back as that, I couldn't,
in' common politeness, refuse the offer.

MRS. H. In common politeness I We have got beyond that!

CAPT. G. (Aside.) Old ground means fresh trouble. (Aloud.) On
my honor

MRS. H. Your what? Ha, ha!

CAPT. G. Dishonor, then. She's not what you imagine. I meant to-

MRS. H. Don't tell me anything about her! She won't care for you,
and when you come back, after having made an exhibition of
yourself, you'll find me occupied with-

CAPT. G. (Insolently.) You couldn't while I am alive.  (Aside.)  If
that doesn't bring her pride to her rescue, nothing will.

MRS. H.  (Drawing herself up.) Couldn't  do  it?  I'   (Softening.)
You're right. I don't believe I could-though you are what you are-a
coward and a liar in grain.

CAPT. G. It doesn't hurt so much after your little lecture-with
demonstrations.

MRS. H. One mass of vanity! Will nothing ever touch you in this
life? There must be a Hereafter if it's only

for the benefit of-But you will have it all to yourself.

CAPT. G.  (Under his eyebrows.) Are you certain of that?

MRS. H. I shall have had mine in this life; and it will serve me
right,

CAPT. G.  But the admiration that you insisted on so strongly a
moment ago?  (Aside.)  Oh, I am a brute!

MRS. H. (Fiercely.)  Will that con-sole me for knowing that you
will go to her with the same words, the same arguments,  and 
the-the  same pet names you used to me?  And if she cares for you,
you two will laugh over my story.  Won't that be punishment heavy
enough even for me-even for me?-And it's all useless.  That's
another punishment.

CAPT. G.  (Feebly.) Oh, come! I'm not so low as you think.

MRS. H.  Not now, perhaps, but you will be.  Oh, Pip, if a woman
flatters your vanity, there's nothing on earth that you would not tell
her; and no meanness that you would not do. Have I known you so
long without knowing that?

CAPT. G. If you can trust me in nothing else-and I don't see why I
should be trusted-you can count upon my holding my tongue.

MRS. H.  If you denied everything you've said this evening and
declared it was all in' fun (a long pause), I'd trust you.  Not
otherwise.  All I ask is, don't tell her my name. Please don't. A man
might forget: a woman never would.  (Looks up table and sees
hostess beginning to collect eyes.)  So it's all ended, through no
fault of mine-Haven't I behaved beautifully?  I've accepted your
dismissal, and you managed it as cruelly as you could, and I have
made you respect my sex, haven't I?  (Arranging gloves and fan.) I
only pray that she'll know you some day as I know you now.  I
wouldn't be you then, for I think even your conceit will be hurt.  I
hope she'll pay you back the humiliation you've brought on me.  I
hope- No.  I don't!  I can't give you up! I must have something to
look forward to or I shall go crazy.  When it's all over, come back
to me, come back to me, and you'll find that you're my Pip still!

CAPT. G. (Very clearly.) False move, and you pay for it. It's a girl!

MRS. H. (Rising.) Then it was true! They said-but I wouldn't insult
you by asking.  A girl!  I was a girl not very long ago.  Be good to
her, Pip. I daresay she believes in' you.

Goes out with an uncertain smile. He watches her through the
door, and settles into a chair as the men redistribute themselves.

CAPT. G.  Now, if there is any Power who looks after this world,
will He kindly tell me what I have done? (Reaching out for the
claret, and half aloud.)  What have I done?

WITH ANY AMAZEMENT

And are not afraid with any amazement. -Marriage Service.

SCENE.-A bachelor's bedroom-toilet-table arranged with
unnatural neat-ness.  CAPTAIN GADSBY asleep and snoring
heavily. Time, 10:30 A. M.- a glorious autumn day at Simla. Enter
delicately Captain MAFFLIN of GADSBY's regiment. Looks at
sleeper, and shakes his head murmuring "Poor Gaddy."  Performs
violent fantasia with hair-brushes on chairback.

CAPT. M. Wake up, my sleeping beauty! (Roars.)

"Uprouse ye, then, my merry merry men!  It is our opening day! It
is our opening da-ay!"

Gaddy, the little dicky-birds have been billing and cooing for ever
so long; and I'm here!

CAPT. G.  (Sitting up and yawning.) 'Mornin'.  This is awf'ly good
of you, old fellow.  Most awf'ly good of you. 'Don't know what I
should do without you. 'Pon my soul, I don't. 'Haven't slept a wink
all night.

CAPT. M. I didn't get in till half-past eleven.  'Had a look at you
then, and you seemed to be sleeping as soundly as a condemned
criminal.

CAPT. G. Jack, if you want to make those disgustingly worn-out
jokes, you'd better go away. (With portentous gravity.) It's the
happiest day in my life.

CAPT. M. (Chuckling grimly.) Not by a very long chalk, my son.
You're going through some of the most refined torture you've ever
known.  But be calm.  I am with you.  'Shun! Dress!

CAPT. G. Eh! Wha-at?

CAPT. M. Do you suppose that you are your own master for the
next twelve hours?  If you do, of course-(Makes for the door.)

CAPT. G.  No! For Goodness' sake, old man, don't do that! You'll
see through, won't you?  I've been mugging up that beastly drill,
and can't remember a line of it.

CAPT. M.  (Overturning G.'s uniform.) Go and tub. Don't bother
me. I'll give you ten minutes to dress in.

interval, filled by the noise as O/ one splashing in the bath-room..

CAPT. G.  (Emerging from dressing-room.) What time is it?

CAPT. M. Nearly eleven.

CAPT. G. Five hours more. O Lord!

CAPT. M. (Aside.)  'First sign of funk, that.  'Wonder if it's going
to spread.   (Aloud.)  Come along to breakfast.

CAPT. G. I can't eat anything. I don't want any breakfast.

CAPT. M. (Aside.) So early! (Aloud) CAPTAIN Gadsby, I order
you to eat breakfast, and a dashed good break -fast, too.  None of
your bridal airs and graces with me!

Leads G. downstairs and stands over him while he eats two chops.

CAPT. G. (Who has looked at his watch thrice in the last five
minutes.) What time is it?

CAPT. M. Time to come for a walk. Light up.

CAPT. G. I haven't smoked for ten days, and I won't now. (Takes
cheroot which M. has cut for him, and blows smoke through his
nose luxuriously.) We aren't going down the Mall, are we?

CAPT. M. (Aside.) They're all alike in these stages.  (Aloud.)  No,
my Vestal. We're going along the quietest road we can find.

CAPT. G. Any chance of seeing Her? CAPT. M. Innocent!  No! 
Come along, and, if you want me for the final obsequies, don't cut
my eye out with your stick.

CAPT. G.  (Spinning round.) I say, isn't She the dearest creature
that ever walked?  What's the time?  What comes  after  "wilt  thou 
take  this woman"?

CAPT. M. You go for the ring. R'clect it'll be on the top of my
right-hand little finger, and just be careful how you draw it off,
because I shall have the Verger's fees somewhere in my glove.

CAPT. G. (Walking forward hastily.) D- the Verger!  Come along!
It's past twelve and I haven't seen Her since yesterday evening. 
(Spinning round again.)  She's an absolute angel, Jack, and She's a
dashed deal too good for me. Look here, does She come up the
aisle on my arm, or how?

CAPT. M. If I thought that there was the least chance of your
remembering anything for two consecutive minutes, I'd tell you.
Stop passaging about like that!

CAPT. G.  (Halting in *he middle of the road.) I say, Jack.

CAPT. M. Keep quiet for another ten minutes if you can, you
lunatic; and walk!

The two tramp at five miles an hour for fifteen minutes.

CAPT. G. What's the time?  How about the cursed wedding-cake
and the slippers?  They don't throw 'em about in church, do they?

CAPT. M. In-variably.  The Padre leads off with his boots.

CAPT. G.  Confound your silly soul! Don't make fun of me. I can't
stand it, and I won't!

CAPT. M. (Untroubled.) So-ooo, old horse  You'll have to sleep
for a couple of hours this afternoon.

CAPT. G. (Spinning round.) I'm not going to be treated like a
dashed child. understand that

CAPT. M.  (Aside.)  Nerves gone to fiddle-strings.  What a day
we're having!  (Tenderly putting his hand on G.'s shoulder.)  My
David, how long have you known this Jonathan? Would I come up
here to make a fool of you-after all these years?

CAPT. G. (Penitently.)  I know, I know, Jack-but I'm as upset as I
can be. Don't mind what I say. Just hear me run through the drill
and see if I've got it all right:-"To have and to hold for better or
worse, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world
without end, so help me God. Amen."

CAPT. M.  (Suffocating  with  suppressed laughter.)  Yes.  That's
about the gist of it.  I'll prompt if you get into a hat.

CAPT. G. (Earnestly.) Yes, you'll stick by me, Jack, won't you? 
I'm awfully happy, but I don't mind telling you that I'm in a blue
funk!

CAPT. M. (Gravely.)  Are you?  I should never have noticed it. 
You don't look like it.

CAPT. G. Don't I? That's all right. (Spinning round.)  On my soul
and honor, Jack, She's the sweetest little angel that ever came
down from the sky.  There isn't a woman on earth fit to speak to
Her.

CAPT. M.  (Aside.)  And this is old Gandy! (Aloud.)  Go on if it
relieves you.

CAPT. G. You can laugh! That's all you wild asses of bachelors
are fit for.

CAPT. M.  (Drawling.)  You never would wait for the troop to
come up. You aren't quite married yet, y'know.

CAPT. G.  Ugh! That reminds me. I don't believe I shall be able to
get into any boots  Let's go home and try 'em on  (Hurries forward.)

CAPT. M.  'Wouldn't be in your shoes for anything that Asia has to
offer.

CAPT. G.  (Spinning round.)  That just shows your hideous
blackness of soul-your dense stupidity-your brutal
narrow-mindedness.  There's only one fault about you.  You're the
best of good fellows, and I don't know what [ should have done
without you, but-you aren't married.  (Wags his head gravely.)
Take a wife, Jack.

CAPT. M.  (With a face like a wall.) Va-as.  Whose for choice?

CAPT. G. If you're going to be a blackguard, I'm going on- What's
the time?

CAPT. M. (Hums.)-

An' since 'twas very clear we drank only ginger-beer, Faith, there
must ha' been some stingo in the ginger."

Come back, you maniac.  I'm going to take you home, and you're
going to lie down.

CAPT. G. What on earth do I want to lie down for?

CAPT. M. Give me a light from your cheroot and see.

CAPT.  G.  (Watching  cheroot-butt quiver like a tuning-fork.) 
Sweet state I'm in!

CAPT. M. You are. I'll get you a peg and you'll go to sleep. 

They return and M. compounds a four-finger peg.

CAPT. G.  O bus! bus! It'll make me as drunk as an owl.

CAPT. M.  'Curious  thing,  'twon't have the slightest effect on you.
Drink it off, chuck yourself down there, and go to bye-bye.

CAPT. G. It's absurd. I sha'n't sleep, I know I sha'n'tl

Falls into heavy doze at end of seven minutes. CAPT. M. watches
him tenderly.

CAPT. M. Poor old Gandy!  I've seen a few turned off before, but
never one who went to the gallows in this condition. 'Can't tell how
it affects 'em, though.  It's the thoroughbreds that sweat when
they're backed into double-harness.-And that's the man who went
through the guns at Amdheran like a devil possessed of devils. 
(Leans over G.)  But this is worse than the guns, old pal-worse than
the guns, isn't it? (G. turns in his sleep, and M. touches him
clumsily on the forehead.)  Poor, dear old Gaddy I Going like the
rest of 'em-going like the rest of 'em-Friend that sticketh closer
than a brother-eight years.  Dashed bit of a slip of a girl-eight
weeks!  And-where's your friend?  (Smokes disconsolately till
church clock strikes three.)

CAPT. M. Up with you!  Get into your kit.

CAPT. C. Already? Isn't it too soon? Hadn't I better have a shave?

CAPT. M. No!  You're all right. (Aside.) He'd chip his chin to
pieces.

CAPT. C. What's the hurry?

CAPT. M. You've got to be there first.

CAPT. C. To be stared at?

CAPT. M. Exactly. You're part of the show.  Where's the
burnisher?  Your spurs are in a shameful state.

CAPT. G.  (Gruffly.) Jack,  I  be damned if you shall do that for
me.

CAPT. M.  (More gruffly.) Dry' up and get dressed! If I choose to 
clean your spurs, you're under my orders.

CAPT. G. dresses.  M. follows suit.

CAPT. M. (Critically, walking round.) M'yes, you'll do.  Only don't
look so like a criminal.  Ring, gloves, fees-that's all right for me.
Let your moustache alone.  Now, if the ponies are ready, we'll go.

CAPT. G.  (Nervously.)  It's much too soon. Let's light up! Let's
have a peg!  Let's-CAPT. M. Let's make bally asses of ourselves!

BELLS.  (Without.)-

"Good-peo-ple-all To prayers-we call."

CAPT. M. There go the bells! Come an-unless you'd rather not.
(They ride off.)

BELLS.-

"We honor the King And Brides joy do bring- Good tidings we tell,
And ring the Dead's knell."

CAPT. G.  (Dismounting at the door of the Church.) I say, aren't
we much too soon? There are no end of people inside. I say, aren't
we much too late? Stick by me, Jack! What the devil do I do?

CAPT. M.  Strike an attitude at the bead of the aisle and wait for
Her. (G. groans as M. wheels him into position he/ore three
hundred eyes.)

CAPT. M.  (Imploringly.) Gaddy, if you love me, for pity's sake,
for the Honor of the Regiment, stand up! Chuck yourself into your
uniform! Look like a man! I've got to speak to the Padre a minute. 
(G. breaks into a gentle Perspiration.) your face I'll never man
again.  Stand up! visibly.) If you wipe your face I'll never be your
best man again. Stand up! (G. Trembles visibly.)

CAPT. M.  (Returning.)  She's commg now.  Look out when the
music starts.  There's the organ beginning to clack.

Bride steps out of 'rickshaw at Church  door.  G.  catches a glimpse
o/ her and takes heart.

ORGAN.-

"The Voice that breathed o'er Eden, That earliest marriage day, 
The primal marriage-blessing, It hath not passed away."

CAPT. M.  (Watching G.) By Jove! He is looking well.  'Didn't
think he had it in him.

CAPT. G. How long does this hymn go on for?

CAPT. M.  It will be over directly. (Ansiously.)  Beginning to
vleach and gulp. Hold on, Gabby, and think o' the Regiment.

CAPT. G.   (Measuredly.)  I say there's a big brown lizard crawling
up that wall.

CAPT. M.  My Sainted Mother! The last stage of collapse!

Bride comes Up to left of altar, lifts her eyes once to G., who is
suddenly smitten mad.

CAPT. G.  (TO himself again and again.) Little Featherweight's a
woman-a woman! And I thought she was a little girl.

CAPT. M.  (In a whisper.) Form the halt-inward wheel.

CAPT. G. obeys mechanically and the ceremony proceeds.

PADRE. .  .  . only unto her as ye both shall live?

CAPT. G.  (His throat useless.) Ha-hmmm!

CAPT. M. Say you will or you won't. There's no second deal here.

Bride gives response with perfect coomess, and is given away by
the father.

CAPT. G.  (Thinking to show his learning.)  Jack give me away
now, quick!

CAPT. M. You've  given yourself away quite enough.  Her right
hand, man!  Repeat!  Repeat!  "Theodore Philip." Have you
forgotten your own name?

CAPT. G. stumbles through Affirmation, which Bride repeats
without a tremor.

CAPT. M. Now the ring!  Follow the Padre! Don't pull off my
glove! Here it is! Great Cupid, he's found his voice.

CAPT. G. repeats Troth in a voice to be heard to the end of the
Church and turns on his heel.

CAPT. M. (Desperately.) Rein back! Back to your troop!  'Tisn't
half legal yet.

PADRE. . . . joined together let no man put asunder.

CAPT. G. paralyzed with fear jibs after Blessing.

CAPT. M.  (Quickly.) On your own front-one length. Take her
with you. I don't come. You've nothing to say. (CAPT. G. jingles
up to altar.)

CAPT. M. (In a piercing rattle meant to be a whisper.)  Kneel, you
stiff-necked ruffian!  Kneel!

PADRE.  .  .   whose daughters are ye so long as ye do well and are
not afraid with any amazement.

CAPT. M. Dismiss! Break off! Left wheel!

All troop to vestry.  They sign.

CAPT. M. Kiss Her, Gaddy.

CAPT. G.  (Rubbing the ink into his glove.) Eh! Wha-at?

CAPT. M.  (Taking  one  pace  to Bride.) If you don't, I shall.

CAPT. G. (Interposing an arm.) Not this journey!

General kissing, in which CAPT. G. is pursued by unknown
female.

CAPT. G.  (Faintly to M.)  This is Hades! Can I wipe my face
now?

CAPT. M.  My  responsibility has ended.  Better ask Misses
GADSAY.

CAPT. G. winces as though shot and procession is Mendelssohned
out of Church to house, where usual tortures take place over the
wedding-cake.

CAPT. M.  (At table.) Up with you, Gaddy.  They expect a speech.

CAPT. G. (After three minutes' agony.) Ha-hmmm.  (Thunders Of
applause.)

CAPT. M. Doocid good, for a first attempt. Now go and change
your kit while Mamma is weeping over_"the Missus." (CAPT. G.
disappears. CAPT. M. starts up tearing his hair.) It's not half legal.
Where are the shoes? Get an ayah.

AVAH. Missie Captain Sahib done gone band karo all the jutis.

CAPT. M.  (Brandishing scab larded sword.) Woman, produce
those shoes Some one lend me a bread-knife. We mustn't crack
Gaddy's head more than it is.  (Slices heel off white satin slipper
and puts slipper up his sleeve.)

Where is the Bride?  (To the company at large.) Be tender with
that rice. It's a heathen custom. Give me the big bag.

*     *     *     *     *     *

Bride slips out quietly into 'rickshaw and departs toward the
sun-set.

CAPT. M.  (In the  open.)  Stole away, by Jove! So much the
worse for Gaddy! Here he is. Now Gaddy, this'll be livelier than
Amdberan!  Where's your horse?

CAPT. G. (Furiously, seeing that the women are out of an earshot.)
Where the-is my Wife?

CAPT. M. Half-way to Mahasu by this time.  You'll have to ride
like Young Lochinvar.

Horse comes round on his hind legs; refuses to let G. handle him.

CAPT. G. Oh you will, will you? Get 'round, you brute-you
hog-you beast! Get round!

Wrenches horse's head over, nearly breaking lower jaw: swings
himself into saddle, and sends home both spurs in the midst of a
spattering gale of Best Patna.

CAPT. M. For your life and your love-ride, Gaddy -And God bless
you!

Throws half a pound of rice at G. who disappears, bowed forward
on the saddle, in a cloud of sun-lit dust.

CAPT. M.  I've  lost  old  Gaddy. (Lights cigarette and strolls off,
singing absently):-

"You may carve it on his tombstone, you may cut it on his card,
That a young man married is a young man marred!"

Miss DEERCOURT. (From her horse.) Really, Captain Mafflin!
You are more plain spoken than polite!

CAPT. M.  (Aside.) They say marriage is like cholera.  'Wonder
who'll be the next victim.

White satin slipper slides from his sleeve and falls at his feet. Left
wondering.

THE GARDEN OF EDEN And ye shall be as-Gods!

SCENE.-Thymy grass-plot at back of t!'e Mahasu dak-bungalow,
overlooking little wooded valley. On the left, glimpse of the Dead
Forest of Fagoo; on the right, Simla Hills.  In background, line of
the Snows. CAPTAIN GADSBY, now three weeks a husband, is
smoking the pipe of peace on a rug in the sunshine.  Banjo and
tobacco-pouch on rug. Overhead the Fagoo eagles. MRS. G. comes
out of bungalow.

MRS. G. My husband! CAPT. G. (Lazily, with intense enjoyment.) 
Eb, wha-at? Say that again.

MRS. G. I've written to Mamma and told her that we shall be back
on the 17th.

CAPT. G. Did you give her my love? 

MRS. G. No, I kept all that for myself.  (Sitting down by his side.) 
I thought you wouldn't mind.

CAPT. G.  (With mock sternness.) I object awf'ly. How did you
know that it was yours to keep?

MRS. G. I guessed, Phil.

CAPT. G.   (Rapturously.)  Lit-tle Featherweight!

MRS. G.  I won' t be called those sporting pet names, bad boy.

CAPT. G. You'll be called anything I choose. Has it ever occurred
to you, Madam, that you are my Wife?

MRS. G. It has.  I haven't ceased wondering at it yet.

CAPT. G. Nor I. It seems so strange; and yet, somehow, it doesn't.
(Confidently.)  You see, it could have been no one else.

MRS. G.  (Softly.) No. No one else -for me or for you.  It must
have been all arranged from the beginning. Phil, tell me again
what made you care for me.

CAPT. G. How could I help it? You were you, you know.

MRS. G. Did you ever want to help it? Speak the truth!

CAPT. G.  (A twinkle in his eye.) I did, darling, just at the first.
Rut only at the very first. (Chuckles.) I called you-stoop low and
I'll whisper-"a little beast." Ho! Ho! Ho!

MRS. G.  (Taking him by the mous'ache and making him sit up.)
"A-little-beast!"   Stop  laughing  over your crime! And yet you had
the-the -awful cheek to propose to me!

CAPT. C. I'd changed my mind then. And you weren't a little beast
any more.

MRS. G. Thank you, sir! And when was I ever?

CAPT. G.  Never! But that first day, when you gave me tea in that
peach-colored muslin gown thing, you looked-you did indeed,
dear-such an absurd little mite. And I didn't know what to say to
you.

MRS. G.  (Twisting moustache.) So you said "little beast." Upon
my word, Sir!  I called you a "Crrrreature," but I wish now I had
called you something worse.

CAPT. G.  (Very meekly.)  I apologize, but you're hurting me
awf'ly. (Interlude.) You're welcome to torture me again on those
terms.

MRS. G. Oh, why did you let me do it?

CAPT. G.  (Looking across valley.) No reason in particular, but-if
it amused you or did you any good-you might-wipe those dear little
boots of yours on me.

MRS. G.  (Stretching out her hands.) Don't!  Oh, don't!  Philip, my
King, please don't talk like that. It's how I feel.  You're so much too
good for me. So much too good!

CAPT. G. Me! I'm not fit to put my arm around you. (Puts it
round.)

MRS. C.  Yes, you are.  But I-what have I ever done?

CAPT. G. Given me a wee bit of your heart, haven't you, my
Queen!

MRS. G.  That's nothing. Any one would do that. They
cou-couldn't help it.

CAPT. G. Pussy, you'll make me horribly conceited.  Just when I
was beginning to feel so humble, too.

MRS. G. Humble!  I don't believe it's in your character.

CAPT. G. What do you know of my character, Impertinence?

MRS. G. Ah, but I shall, shan't I, Phil? I shall have time in all the
years and years to come, to know everything about you; and there
will be no secrets between us.

CAPT. G.  Little witch!  I believe you know me thoroughly
already.

MRS. G. I think I can guess. You're selfish?

CAPT. G. Yes.

MRS. G. Foolish?

CAPT. G.  Very.

MRS. G. And a dear?

CAPT. G. That is as my lady pleases.

MRS. G. Then your lady is pleased. (A pause.) D'you know that
we're two solemn, serious, grown-up people -CAPT. G.  (Tilting
her straw hat over her eyes.)  You  grown-up!  Pooh! You're a
baby.

MRS. G. And we're talking nonsense.

CAPT. G.  Then let's go on talking nonsense. I rather like it. Pussy,
I'll tell you a secret. Promise not to repeat?

MRS. G. Ye-es. Only to you.

CAPT. G. I love you.

MRS. G. Re-ally! For how long?

CAPT. G. Forever and ever.

MRS. G. That's a long time.

CAPT. G. 'Think so? It's the shortest I can do with.

MRS. G. You're getting quite clever.

CAPT. G. I'm talking to you.

MRS. G.  Prettily turned. Hold up your stupid old head and I'll pay
you for it.

CAPT. G.  (Affecting supreme contempt.)  Take it yourself if you
want it.

MRS. G. I've a great mind to-and I will!  (Takes it and is repaid
with interest.)

CAPT. G, Little Featherweight, it's my opinion that we are a
couple of idiots.

MRS. G. We're the only two sensible people in the world.  Ask the
eagle. He's coming by.

CAPT. G. Ah! I dare say he's seen a good many sensible people at
Mahasu. They say that those birds live for ever so long.

MRS. G. How long?

CAPT. G. A hundred and twenty years.

MRS. G.  A hundred and twenty years!  O-oh!  And in a hundred
and twenty years where will these two sensible people be?

CAPT. G.  What does it matter so long as we are together now?

MRS. G.  (Looking round the horizon.)  Yes.  Only you and I-I and
you-in the whole wide, wide world until the end. (Sees the line of
the Snows.) How big and quiet the hills look! D'you think they care
for us?

CAPT. G.  'Can't say I've consulted em particularly.  I care, and
that's enough for me.

MRS. G.  (Drawing nearer to him.) Yes, now-but afterward.
What's that little black blur on the Snows?

CAPT. G. A snowstorm, forty miles away. You'll see it move, as
the wind carries it across the face of that spur and then it will be
all gone.

MRS. G. And then it will be all gone. (Shivers.)

CAPT. G.  (Anriously.)  'Not chilled, pet, are you? 'Better let me
get your cloak.

MRS. G. No. Don't leave me, Phil. Stay here. I believe I am afraid.
Oh, why are the hills so horrid! Phil, promise me that you'll always
love me.

CAPT. G. What's the trouble, darling? I can't promise any more
than I have; but I'll promise that again and again if you like.

MRs. G. (Her head on his shoulder.) Say it, then-say it!  N-no-
don't! The-the-eagles would laugh.  (Recovering.) My husband,
you've married a little goose.

CAPT. G.  (Very tenderly.) Have I? I am content whatever she is,
so long as she is mine.

MRS. G.  (Quickly.) Because she is yours or because she is me
mineself?

CAPT. G. Because she is both. (Piteously.)  I'm not clever, dear,
and I don't think I can make myself understood properly.

MRS. G. I understand. Pip, will you tell me something?

CAPT. G. Anything you like. (Aside.) I wonder what's coming
now.

MRS. G.  (Haltingly, her eyes 'owered.)  You told me once in the
old days-centunes and centuries ago-that you had been engaged
before.  I didn't say anything-then.

CAPT. G. (Innocently.) Why not?

MRS. G.  (Raising her eyes to his.) Because-because I was afraid
of losing you, my heart. But now-tell about it-please.

CAPT. G. There's nothing to tell. I was awf'ly old then-nearly two
and twenty-and she was quite that.

MRS. G. That means she was older than you. I shouldn't like her to
have been younger. Well?

CAPT. G. Well, I fancied myself in love and raved about a bit,
and-oh, yes, by Jove! I made up poetry. Ha! Ha!

MRS. G. You never wrote any for me! What happened?

CAPT. G. I came out here, and the whole thing went phut.  She
wrote to say that there had been a mistake, and then she married.

Mas. G. Did she care for you much? 

CAPT. G. No. At least she didn't show it as far as I remember.

MRS. G. As far as you rememberl Do you remember her name? 
(Hears it and bows her head.) Thank you, my husband.

CAPT. G. Who but you had the right? Now, Little Featherweight,
have you ever been mixed up in any dark and dismal tragedy?

MRS. G.  If you call me Mrs. Gadsby, p'raps I'll tell.

CAPT. G.  (Throwing Parade rasp into his voice.)  Mrs. Gadsby,
confessl

MRS. G. Good Heavens, Phil!  I never knew that you could speak
in that terrible voice.

CAPT. G.  You don't know half my accomplishments yet. Wait till
we are settled in the Plains, and I'll show you how I bark at my
troop.  You were going to say, darling?

MRS. G. I-I don't like to, after that voice.  (Tremulously.) Phil,
never you dare to speak to me in that tone, whatever I may do!

CAPT. G. My poor little love! Why, you're shaking all over. I am
so sorry. Of course I never meant to upset you Don't tell me
anything, I'm a brute.

MRS. G. No, you aren't, and I will tell- There was a man.

CAPT. G.  (Lightly.)  Was there? Lucky man!

MRS. G.  (In a whisper.)  And I thougbt I cared for him.

CAPT. G. Still luckier man! Well? 

MRS. G. And I thought I cared for him-and I didn't-and then you
came-and I cared for you very, very much indeed.  That's all. 
(Face hidden.) You aren't angry, are you?

CAPT. G. Angry? Not in the least. (Aside.) Good Lord, what have
I done to deserve this angel?

MRS. G.  (Aside.)  And he never asked for the name! How funny
men are! But perhaps it's as well.

CAPT. G. That man will go to heaven because you once thought
you cared for him.  'Wonder if you'll ever drag me up there?

MRS. G.  (Firmly.)  'Sha'n't go if you don't.

CAPT. G.  Thanks.  I say, Pussy, I don't know much about your
religious beliefs. You were brought up to believe in a heaven and
all that, weren't you?

MRS. G.  Yes.  But it was a pincushion heaven, with hymn-books
in all the pews.

CAPT. G. (Wagging his head with intense conviction.) Never
mind. There is a pukka heaven.

MRS. G. Where do you bring that message from, my prophet?

CAPT. G.  Here!  Because we care for each other. So it's all right.

Mrs.  G.  (As a troop of langurs crash through the branches.) So it's
all right.  But Darwin says that we came from those!

CAPT. G.  (Placidly.) Ah! Darwin was never in love with an angel.
That settles it. Sstt, you brutes! Monkeys, indeed!  You shouldn't 
read those books.

MRS. G.  (Folding her hands.)  If it pleases my Lord the King to
issue proclamation.

CAPT. G.  Don't, dear one. There are no orders between us.  Only
I'd rather you didn't.  They lead to nothing, and bother people's
heads.

MRS. G.  Like your first engagement.

CAPT. G.  (With an immense calm.) That was a necessary evil and
led to you. Are you nothing?

MRS. G. Not so very much, am I?

CAPT. G. All this world and the next to me.

MRS. G.  (Very softly.)  My boy of boys!  Shall I tell you
something?

CAPT. G. Yes, if it's not dreadful-about other men.

MRS. G. It's about my own bad little self.

CAPT. G. Then it must be good. Go on, dear.

MRS. G.  (Slowly.) I don't know why I'm telling you, Pip; but if
ever you marry again-(Interlude.)  Take your hand from my mouth
or I'll bite! In the future, then remember-I don't know quite how to
put it!

CAPT.  G.  (Snorting indignantly.) Don't try. "Marry again,"
indeed!

MRS. G. I must. Listen, my husband.  Never, never, never tell your
wife anything that you do not wish her to remember and think over
all her life. Because a woman-yes, I am a woman -can't forget.

CAPT. G. By Jove, how do you know that?

MRS. G. (Confusedly.) I don't. I'm only guessing. I am-I was-a silly
little girl; but I feel that I know so much, oh, so very much more
than you, dearest. To begin with, I'm your wife.

CAPT. G.  So I have been led to believe.

MRS. G. And I shall want to know every one of your secrets-to
share everything you know with you. (Stares round desperately.)

CAPT. G. So you shall, dear, so you shall-but don't look like that.

MRS. G.  For your own sake don't stop me, Phil.  I shall never talk
to you in this way again. You must not tell me! At least, not now.
Later on, when I'm an old matron it won't matter, but if you love
me, be very good to me now; for this part of my life I shall never
forget!  Have I made you understand?

CAPT. G. I think so, child. Have I said anything yet that you
disapprove of?

MRS. G. Will you be very angry? That-that voice, and what you
said about the engagement-

CAPT. G.  But you asked to be told that, darling.

MRS. G.  And  that's why you shouldn't have told me!  You must
be the Judge, and, oh, Pip, dearly as I love you, I shan't be able to
help you! I shall hinder you, and you must judge in spite of me!

CAPT. G.  (Meditatively.) We have a great many things to find out
together, God help us both-say so, Pussy-but we shall understand
each other better every day; and I think I'm beginning to see now.
How in the world did you come to know just the importance of
giving me just that lead?

MRS. G.  I've told you that I don't know.  Only somehow it seemed
that, in all this new life, I was being guided for your sake as well
as my own.

CAPT. G. (Aside.) Then Mafilin was right! They know, and 
we-we're blind all of us. (Lightly.) 'Getting a little beyond our
depth, dear, aren't we? I'll remember, and, if I fail, let me be
punished as I deserve.

MRS. G. There shall be no punishment.  We'll start into life
together from here-you and I-and no one else.

CAPT. G.  And no one else.  (A pause.)  Your eyelashes are all
wet, Sweet? Was there ever such a quaint little Absurdity?

Mas. G.  Was there ever such nonsense talked before?

CAPT. G.  (Knocking the ashes out of his pipe.)  'Tisn't what we
say, it's what we don't say, that helps. And it's all the profoundest
philosophy. But no one would understand-even if it were put into a
book.

MRS. G.  The idea!  No-only we ourselves, or people like
ourselves-if there are any people like us.

CAPT. G.  (Magisterially.) All people, not like ourselves, are blind
idiots.

MRS. G.  (Wiping her eyes.) Do you think, then, that there are any
people as happy as we are?

CAPT. G. 'Must be-unless we've appropriated all the happiness in
the world.

MRS. G'.  (Looking toward Simla.) Poor dears! Just fancy if we
have!

CAPT. G. Then we'll hang on to the whole show, for it's a great
deal too jolly to lose-eh, wife o' mine?

MRS. G. O Pip! Pip! How much of you is a solemn, married man
and how much a horrid slangy schoolboy?

CAPT. G.  When you tell me how much of you was eighteen last
birthday and how much is as old as the Sphinx and twice as
mysterious, perhaps I'll attend to you.  Lend me that banjo. The
spirit moveth me to jowl at the sunset.

MRS. G. Mind! It's not tuned. Ah! How that jars!

CAPT G. (Turning pegs.) It's amazingly different to keep a banjo
to proper pitch.

MRS. G. It's the same with all musical instruments, What shall it
be?

CAPT. G. "Vanity," and let the hills hear.  (Sings through the first
and hal' of the second verse.  Turning to MRS. G.) Now, chorus!
Sing, Pussy!

BOTH TOGETHRR.  (Con brio, to the horror of the monkeys who
are settling for the night.)-

"Vanity, all is Vanity," said Wisdom. scorning me- I clasped my
true Love's tender hand and answered frank and free-ee "If this be
Vanity who'd be wise? If this be Vanity who'd be wise? If this be
Vanity who'd be wi-ise (Crescendo.)  Vanity let it be!"

MRS. G.  (Defiantly to the grey of the evening sky.) "Vanity let it
be!"

ECHO. (Prom the Fagoo spur.) Let it be!

FATIMA

And you may go in every room of the house and see everything
that is there, but into the Blue Room you must not go.-The Story of
Blue Beard.

SCENE.-The GADSBYS' bungalow in the Plains.  Time, 11 A. M.
on a Sunday morning.  Captain GADSBY, in his shirt-sleeves, is
bending over a complete set of Hussar's equipment, from saddle to
picketing-rope, which is neatly spread over the floor of his study. 
He is smoking an unclean briar, and his forehead is puckered with
thought.

CAPT. G.  (To himself, fingering a headstall.)  Jack's an ass. 
There's enough brass on this to load a mule-and, if the Americans
know anything about anything, it can be cut down to a bit only. 
'Don't want the watering-bridle, either. Humbug!-Half a dozen sets
of chains and pulleys for one horse! Rot!   (Scratching his head.) 
Now, let's consider it all over from the he-ginning.  By Jove, I've
forgotten the scale of weights!  Ne'er mind.  'Keep the bit only, and
eliminate every boss from the crupper to breastplate.  No
breastplate at all. Simple leather strap across the breast-like the
Russians. Hi! Jack never thought of that! 

MRS. G.  (Entering hastily, her hand bound in a cloth.) Oh, Pip,
I've scalded my hand over that horrid, horrid Tiparee jam!

CAPT. G. (Absently.) Eb! Wha-at? 

MRS.  G.   (With  round-eyed reproach.)  I've scalded it aw-fully!
Aren't you sorry? And I did so want that jam to jam properly.

CAPT. G.  Poor little woman!  Let me kiss the place and make it
well. (Unrolling bandage.)  You small sinner!  Where's that scald? 
I can't see it.

MRS. G.  On the top of the little finger. There!-It's a most
'normous big burn!

CAPT. G.   (Kissing little finger.) Baby!  Let Hyder look after the
jam. You know I don't care for sweets.

Mas. G. In-deed?-Pip!

CAPT. G. Not of that kind, anyhow. And now run along, Minnie,
and leave me to my own base devices. I'm busy.

MRS. G.  (Calmly settling herself in long chair.)  So I see.  What a
mess you're making! Why have you brought all that smelly leather
stuff into the house?

CAPT. G.  To play with.  Do you mind, dear?

MRS. G. Let me play too.  I'd like it.

CAPT. G. I'm afraid you wouldn't. Pussy- Don't you think that jam
will burn, or whatever it is that jam does when it's not looked after
by a clever little housekeeper?

MRS. G.  I thought you said Hyder could attend to it.  I left him in
the veranda, stirring-when I hurt myself so.

CAPT. G.  (His eye returning to the equipment.)  Po-oor little
woman!-Three pounds four and seven is three eleven, and that can
be cut down to two eight, with just a lee-tie care, with-out
weakening anything. Farriery is all rot in incompetent hands.
What's the use of a shoe-case when a man's scouting? He can't
stick it on with a lick-like a stamp-the shoe! Skittles

MRS. G.  What's  skittles?  Pah! What is this leather cleaned with?

CAPT. G.  Cream and champagne and- Look here, dear, do you
really want to talk to me about anything important?

MRS. G.  No.  I've done my accounts, and I thought I'd like to see
what you're doing.

CAPT. G.  Well, love, now you've seen and- Would you mind?-
That is to say-Minnie, I really am busy.

MRS. G. You want me to go?

CAPT. G, Yes, dear, for a little while. This tobacco will hang in
your dress, and saddlery doesn't interest you.

MRS. G.  Everything you do interests me, Pip.

CAPT. G. Yes, I know, I know, dear. I'll tell you all about it some
day when I've put a head on this thing. In the meantime-

MRS. G. I'm to be turned out of the room like a troublesome child?

CAPT. G. No-o. I don't mean that exactly. But, you see, I shall be
tramping up and down, shifting these things to and fro, and I shall
be in your way. Don't you think so?

MRS. G.  Can't I lift them about? Let me try.  (Reaches forward  to
trooper's saddle.)

CAPT. G. Good gracious, child, don't touch it. You'll hurt yourself. 
(Picking up saddle.)  Little girls aren't expected to handle
numdahs. Now, where would you like it put?  (Holds saddle above
his head.)

MRS. G.  (A break in her voice.) Nowhere.  Pip, how good you
are-and how strong!  Oh, what's that ugly red streak inside your
arm?

CAPT. G.  (Lowering saddle quickly.) Nothing. It's a mark of sorts.
(Aside.) And Jack's coming to tiffin with his notions all cut and
dried!

MRS. G. I know it's a mark, but I've never seen it before.  It runs
all up the arm. What is it?

CAPT. G.  A cut-if you want to know.

MRS. G. Want to know! Of course I do! I can't have my husband
cut to pieces in this way. How did it come? Was it an accident?
Tell me, Pip.

CAPT. G.  (Grimly.)  No.  'Twasn't an accident. I got it-from a
man-in Afghanistan.

MRS. G. In action? Oh, Pip, and you never told me!

CAPT. G. I'd forgotten all about it. 

MRS. G. Hold up your arm! What a horrid, ugly scar!  Are you
sure it doesn't hurt now!  How did the man give it you?

CAPT. G. (Desperately looking at his watch.) With a knife. I came
down-old Van Loo did, that's to say-and fell on my leg, so I
couldn't run. And then this man came up and began chopping at
me as I sprawled.

MRS. G.  Oh, don't, don't!  That's enough!- Well, what happened?

CAPT. G.  I couldn't get to my holster, and Mafflin came round the
corner and stopped the performance.

MRS. G.  How?  He's such a lazy man, I don't believe he did.

CAPT. G. Don't you? I don't think the man had much doubt about
it. Jack cut his head off.

Mas. G. Cut-his-head-off! "With one blow," as they say in the
books?

CAPT. G.  I'm not sure. I was too interested in myself to know
much about it.  Anyhow, the head was off, and Jack was punching
old Van Loo in the ribs to make him get up. Now you know all
about it, dear, and now-

MRS. G.  You want me to go, of course. You never told me about
this, though I've been married to you for ever so long; and you
never would have told me if I hadn't found out; and you never do
tell me anything about yourself, or what you do, or what you take
an interest in.

CAPT. G.  Darling, I'm always with you, aren't I?

MRS. G. Always in my pocket, you were going to say.  I know you
are; but you are always thinking away from me.

CAPT. G.  (Trying to hide a smile.) Am I?  I wasn't aware of it. 
I'm awf'ly sorry.

MRS.  G.  (Piteously.)  Oh, don't make fun of me!  Pip, you know
what I mean. When you are reading one of those things about
Cavalry, by that idiotic Prince-why doesn't he be a Prince instead
of a stable-boy?

CAPT. G. Prince Kraft a stable-boy-Oh, my Aunt! Never mind,
dear. You were going to say?

MRS. G. It doesn't matter; you don't care for what I say.  Only-only
you get up and walk about the room, staring in front of you, and
then Mafflin comes in to dinner, and after I'm in the drawmg-room
I can hear you and him talking, and talking, and talking, about 
things I can't understand, and-oh, I get so tired and feel so lonely!-I
don't want to complain and be a trouble, Pip; but I do indeed I do!

CAPT. G. My poor darling! I never thought of that.  Why don't you
ask some nice people in to dinner?

MRS. G.  Nice people!  Where am I to find them? Horrid frumps!
And if I did, I shouldn't be amused. You know I only want you.

CAPT, G. And you have me surely, Sweetheart?

MRS. G. I have not! Pip why don't you take me into your life?

CAPT. G.  More than I do?  That would be difficult, dear.

MRS. G. Yes, I suppose it would-to you.  I'm no help to you-no
companion to you; and you like to have it so.

CAPT. G. Aren't you a little unreasonable, Pussy?

MRS. G.  (Stamping her foot.) I'm the most reasonable woman in
the world-when I'm treated properly.

CAPT. G.  And since when have I been treating you improperly?

MRS. G. Always-and since the beginning. You know you have.

CAPT. G. I don't; but I'm willing to be convinced.

MRS. G.  (Pointing  to  saddlery.) There!

CAPT. G. How do you mean?

MRS. G.  What does all that mean? Why am I not to be told?  Is it
so precious?

CAPT. G.  I forget its exact Government value just at present.  It
means that it is a great deal too heavy.

MRS. G. Then why do you touch it?

CAPT. G.  To make it lighter.  See here, little love, I've one notion
and Jack has another, but we are both agreed that all this
equipment is about thirty pounds too heavy. The thing is how to
cut it down without weakening any part of it, and, at the same
time, allowing the trooper to carry everything he wants for his own
comfort-socks and shirts and things of that kind.

MRS. G. Why doesn't he pack them in a little trunk?

CAPT. G.  (Kissing her.)  Oh, you darling! Pack them in a little
trunk, indeed!  Hussars don't carry trunks, and it's a most important
thing to make the horse do all the carrying.

MRS. G. But why need you bother about it? You're not a trooper.

CAPT. G.  No; but I command a few score of him; and equipment
is nearly everything in these days.

MRS. G. More than me?

CAPT. G.  Stupid!  Of course not; but it's a matter that I'm
tremendously interested in, because if I or Jack, or I and Jack,
work out some sort of lighter saddlery and all that. it's possible 
that we may get  it adopted.

MRS. G. How?

CAPT. G. Sanctioned at Home, where they will make a sealed
pattern-a pattern that all the saddlers must copy-and so it will be
used by all the regiments.

MRS. G. And that interests you?

CAPT. G. It's part of my profession, y'know, and my profession is
a good deal to me.  Everything in a soldier's equipment is
important, and if we can improve that equipment, so much the
better for the soldiers and for us.

Mas. G. Who's "us"?

CAPT. G.  Jack and I; only Jack's notions are too radical.  What's
that big sigh for, Minnie?

MRS. G.  Oh, nothing-and you've kept all this a secret from me! 
Why?

CAPT. G. Not a secret, exactly, dear. I didn't say anything about it
to you because I didn't think it would amuse you.

MRS. G. And am I only made to be amused?

CAPT. G.  No, of course.  I merely mean that it couldn't interest
you.

MRS. G. It's your work and-and if you'd let me, I'd count all these
things up.  If they are too heavy, you know by how much they are
too heavy, and you must have a list of things made out to your
scale of lightness, and-

CAPT. G.  I have got both scales somewhere in my head; hut it's
hard to tell how light you can make a head-stall, for instance, until
you've actually had a model made.

MRS. G.  But if you read out the list, I could copy it down, and pin
it up  there  just  above  your  table. Wouldn't that do?

CAPT. G.  It would be awf'ly nice, dear, but it would be giving you
trouble for nothing. I can't work that way. I go by rule of thumb.  I
know the present scale of weights, and the other one-the one that
I'm trying to work to-will shift and vary so much that I couldn't be
certain, even if I wrote it down.

MRS. G. I'm so sorry. I thought I might help. Is there anything else
that I could be of use in?

CAPT. G. (Looking round the room.) I can't think of anything.
You're always helping me you know.

MRS. G. Am I? How?

CAPT. G. You are of course, and as long as you're near me-I can't
explain exactly, but it's in the air.

MRS. G. And that's why you wanted to send me away?

CAPT. G. That's only when I'm trying to do work-grubby work like
this.

MRS. G. Mafflin's better, then, isn't he?

CAPT. G.  (Rashly.)  Of course he is. Jack and I have been
thinking along the same groove for two or three years about this
equipment.  It's our hobby, and it may really be useful some day.

MRS. G.  (After a pause.)  And that's all that you have away from
me?

CAPT. G. It isn't very far away from you now. Take care the oil on
that bit doesn't come off on your dress.

MRS. G.  I wish-I wish so much that I could really help you. I
believe I could-if I left the room. But that's not what I mean.

CAPT. G. (Aside.) Give me patience! I wish she would go. 
(Aloud.)  I as-sure you you can't do anything for me, Minnie, and I
must really settle down to this. Where's my pouch?

MRS. G.  (Crossing to writing-table.) Here you are, Bear. What a
mess you keep your table in!

CAPT. G.  Don't touch it.  There's a method in my madness,
though you mightn't think of it.

MRS. G.  (At table.)  I want to look- Do you keep accounts, Pip?

CAPT. G.  (Bending over saddlery.) Of a sort. Are you rummaging
among the Troop papers? Be careful.

MRs. G.  Why?  I sha'n't disturb anything.  Good gracious!  I had
no idea that you had anything to do with so many sick horses.

CAPT. G.  'Wish I hadn't, but they insist on falling sick. Minnie, if
1 were you I really should not investigate those papers.  You may
come across something that you won't like.

MRS. G. Why will you always treat me like a child? I know I'm
not displacing the horrid things.

CAPT. G.  (Resignedly.)  Very well, then. Don't blame me if
anything happens.  Play with the table and let me go on with the
saddlery.  (Slipping hand into trousers-pocket.)  Oh, the deuce!

MRS. G.  (Her back to G.)  What's that for?

CAPT. G. Nothing. (Aside.) There's not much in it, but I wish I'd
torn it up.

MRS. G.  (Turning over contents of table.) I know you'll hate me
for this; but I do want to see what your work is like. (A pause.)
Pip, what are "farcybuds"?

CAPT. G.  Hab!  Would you really like to know?  They aren't
pretty things.

MRS. G. This Journal of Veterinary Science says they are of
"absorbing interest." Tell me.

CAPT. G.  (Aside.) It may turn her attention.

Gives a long and designedly loathsome account of glanders and
farcy.

MRS. G.  Oh, that's enough.  Don't go on!

CAPT. G. But you wanted to know-Then these things suppurate
and matterate and spread-

MRS. G.  Pin, you're making me sick!  You're  a horrid,  disgusting
schoolboy.

CAPT. G.  (On his knees among the bridles.)  You asked to be
told.  It's not my fault if you worry me into talking about horrors.

Mas. G. Why didn't you say-No?

CAPT.  G. Good Heavens, child! Have you come in here simply to
bully me?

Mas. G. I bully you? How could I! You're so strong. (Hysterically.)
Strong enough to pick me up and put me outside the door and
leave me there to cry. Aren't you?

CAPT. G. It seems to me that you're an irrational little baby. Are
you quite well?

MRS. G. Do I look ill?  (Returning to table).  Who is your lady
friend with the big grey envelope and the fat monogram outside?

CAPT. G.  (Aside.)  Then it wasn't locked up, confound it.
(Aloud.) "God made her, therefore let her pass for a woman." You
remember what farcybuds are like?

Mas. G.  (Showing envelope.)  This has nothing to do with them.
I'm going to open it. May I?

CAPT. G. Certainly, if you want to. I'd sooner you didn't though. I
don't ask to look at your letters to the Deer-court girl.

Mas. G.  You'd better not, Sir! (Takes letter from envelope.)  Now,
may I look?  If you say no, I shall cry.

CAPT. G. You've never cried in my knowledge of you, and I don't
believe you could.

Mas. G. I feel very like it to-day, Pip.  Don't be hard on me. (Reads
letter.) It begins in the middle, with-out any "Dear Captain
Gadsby," or anything. How funny!

CAPT. G. (Aside.) No, it's not Dear Captain Gadsby, or anything,
now. How funny!

Mas. G.  What a strange letter! (Reads.)  "And so the moth has
come too near the candle at last, and has been singed into-shall I
say Respectability?  I congratulate him, and hope he will be as
happy as he deserves to be."  What does that mean?  Is she
congratulating you about our marriage?

CAPT. G. Yes, I suppose so.

Mas. G.  (Still r'ading letter.) She seems to be a particular friend of
yours.

CAPT. G.  Yes.  She was an excellent matron of sorts-a Mrs.
Herriott-wife of a Colonel Herriott. I used to know some of her
people at Home long ago-before I came out.

Mas. G.  Some Colonel's wives are young-as young as me.  I knew
one who was younger.

CAPT. G. Then it couldn't have been Mrs. Herriott. She was old
enough to have been ycur mother, dear.

Mas. G.  I remember now.  Mrs. Scargill was talking about her at
the Dutfins' tennis, before you came for me, on Tuesday.  Captain
Mafflin said she was a "dear old woman." Do you know, I think
Mafilin is a very clumsy man with his feet.

CAPT. G.  (Aside.)  Good old Jack! (Aloud.) Why, dear?

Mas. G.  He had put his cup down on the ground then, and he
literally stepped into it. Some of the tea spirted over my dress-the
grey one. I meant to tell you about it before.

CAPT. G.  (Aside.)  There are the makings of a strategist about
Jack though his methods are coarse. (Aloud.) You'd better get a
new dress, then. (Aside.) Let us pray that that will turn her.

Mas. G.  Oh, it isn't stained in the least. I only thought that I'd tell
you. (Returning to letter.)  What an extraordinary person!  (Reads.) 
"But need I remind you that you have taken upon yourself a charge
of wardship"-what in the world is a charge of wardship?-"which as
you yourself know, may end in Consequences"-

CAPT. G. (Aside.) It's safest to let em see everything as they come
across it; but 'seems to me that there are exceptions to the rule. 
(Aloud.) I told you that there was nothing to be gained from
rearranging my table.

Mas. G.  (Absently.)  What does the woman mean? She goes on
talking about Consequences-' 'almost inevitable Consequences"
with a capital C-for half a page.  (Flushing scarlet.)  Oh, good
gracious! How abominable!

CAPT. G. (Promptly.) Do you think so? Doesn't it show a sort of
motherly interest in us? (Aside.) Thank Heaven. Harry always
wrapped her meaning up safely! (Aloud.) Is it absolutely necessary
to go on with the letter, darling?

Mas. G.  It's impertinent-it's simply horrid. What right has this
woman to write in this way to you?  She oughtn't to.

CAPT. G.  When you write to the Deercourt girl, I notice that you
generally fill three or four sheets.  Can't you let an old woman
babble on paper once in a way? She means well.

MRS. G. I don't care. She shouldn't write, and if she did, you ought
to have shown me her letter.

CAPT. G. Can't you understand why I kept it to myself, or must I
explain at length-as I explained the farcybuds?

Mas. G.  (Furiously.)  Pip I hate you!  This is as bad as those
idiotic saddle-bags on the floor.  Never mind whether it would
please me or not, you ought to have given it to me to read.

CAPT. G.  It comes to the same thing. You took it yourself.

MRS. G. Yes, but if I hadn't taken it, you wouldn't have said a
word. I think this Harriet Herriott-it's like a name in a book-is an
interfering old Thing.

CAPT. G.  (Aside.)  So long as you thoroughly understand that she
is old, I don't much care what you think. (Aloud.) Very good, dear.
Would you like to write and tell her so? She's seven thousand
miles away.

MRS. G. I don't want to have any-thing to do with her, but you
ought to have told me.  (Turning to last page of letter.) And she
patronizes me, too. I've never seen her!  (Reads.) "I do not know
how the world stands with you; in all human probability I shall
never know; but whatever I may have said before, I pray for her
sake more than for yours that all may be well. I have learned what
misery means, and I dare not wish that any one dear to you should
share my knowledge."

CAPT. G.  Good God!  Can't you leave that letter alone, or, at
least, can't you refrain from reading it aloud? I've been through it
once. Put it back on 'he desk. Do you hear me?

Mas. G.  (Irresolutely.)  I  sh-sha'n't! (Looks at G.'s eyes.) Oh, Pip,
please!  I didn't mean to make you angry- 'Deed, I didn't.  Pip, I'm
so sorry. I know I've wasted your time-CAPT. G.  (Grimly.)  You
have. Now, will you be good enough to go-if there is nothing more
in my room that you are anxious to pry into?

Mas. G.  (Putting out her hands.) Oh, Pip, don't look at me like
that! I've never seen you look like that before and it hu-urts me! 
I'm sorry. I oughtn't to have been here at all, and -and- and-
(sobbing.)  Oh, be good to me!  Be good to me!  There's only
you-anywhere! Breaks down in long chair, hiding face in cushions.

CAPT. G. (Aside.) She doesn't know how she flicked me on the
raw. (Aloud, bending over chair.) I didn't mean to be harsh, dear-I
didn't really.  You can stay here as long as you please, and do what
you please. Don't cry like that. You'll make yourself sick. (Aside.)
What on earth has come over her? (Aloud.) Darling, what's the
matter with you?

Mrs. G. (Her face still hidden.) Let me go-let me go to my own
room. Only-only say you aren't angry with me.

CAPT. G. Angry with you, love!  Of course not. I was angry with
myself. I'd lost my temper over the saddlery-Don't hide your face,
Pussy. I want to kiss it.

Bends lower, Mas. G. slides right arm round his neck. Several
interludes and much sobbing.

Mas. G.  (In a whisper.)  I didn't mean about the jam when I came
in to tell you-

CAPT'. G.  Bother the jam and the equipment!  (Interlude.)

Mas. G.  (Still more faintly.)  My finger  wasn't  scalded  at  all.  I-[
wanted to speak to you about-about -something else, and-I didn't
know how.

CAPT. G. Speak away, then. (Looking into her eyes.)  Eb! 
Wha-at? Minnie!  Here, don't go away!  You don't mean?

Mas. G.  (Hysterically, backing to portiere and hiding her face in
its fold's.) The-the Almost Inevitable Consequences!  (Flits through
portiere as G. attempts to catch her, and bolts her self in her own
room.)

CAPT. G.  (His arms full of portiere.)  Oh!  (Sitting down heavily
in chair.)  I'm a brutea pig-a bully, and a blackguard. My poor,
poor little darling! "Made to be amused only?"-

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW 
Knowing Good and Evil.

SCENE.-The GADSBYS' bungalow in the Plains,  in June.  
Punkah-coolies asleep in veranda where Captain GADBY is
walking up and down. DOCTOR'S trap in porch.  JUNIOR
CHAPLAIN drifting generally and uneasily through the house.
Time, 3:4O A. M. Heat 94 degrees in veranda.

DOCTOR.  (Coming into veranda and touching G. on the
shoulder.) You had better go in and see her now.

CAPT. G.  (The color of good cigar-ash.)  Eb, wha-at? Oh, yes, of
course. What did you say?

DOCTOR. (Syllable by syllable.)  Go -in-to-the -room -and- see-
her. She wants to speak to you.  (Aside, testily.) I shall have him
on my hands next.

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN.  (In half-lighted dining room.) Isn't there
any?-

DOCTOR.  (Savagely.)  Hsb, you little fool!

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. Let me do my work. Gadsby, stop a minute
I (Edges after G.)

DOCTOR. Wait till she sends for you at least-at least. Man alive,
he'll kill you if you go in there! What are you bothering him for?

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. (Coming into veranda.) I've given him a
stiff brandy-peg.  He wants it.  You've forgotten him for the last
ten hours and-forgotten yourself too.

CAPT. G. enters bedroom, which is lit by one night-lamp. Ayak on
the
floor pretending to be asleep.

VOICE.  (From the bed.) All down the street-such bonfires!  Ayah,
go and put them out! (Appealingly.) How can I sleep with an
installation of the C.I.E. in my room?  No-not C.I.E. Something
else. What was it?

CAPT. G.  (Trying to control his voice.)  Minnie, I'm here.
(Bending over bed.) Don't you know me, Mmnie? It's me-it's
Phil-it's your husband.

VOICE.  (Mechanically.)  It's me-it's Phil-it's your husband.

CAPT. G.  She doesn't know mel-It's your own husband, darling.

VOICE. Your own husband, darling. AYAH. (With an inspiration.)
Memsahib understanding all I saying.

CAPT. G.  Make her understand me then-quick!

AYAH.  (Hand on Mas. G.'s fore-head.) Memsahib! Captain Sahib
here.

VOICE. Salaem do.  (Fretfully.)  I know I'm not fit to be seen.

AYAH. (Aside to G.) Say "marneen" same as breakfash.

CAPT.  G.   Good-morning,  little woman. How are we to-day?

VOICE. That's Phil. Poor old Phil. (Viciously.) Phil, you fool, I
can't see you. Come nearer.

CAPT. G. Minnie! Minnie! It's me -you know me?

VOICE.  (Mockingly.)  Of course I do. Who does not know the
man who was so cruel to his wife-almost the only one he ever had?

CAPT. G. Yes, dear. Yes-of course, of course.  But won't you
speak to bim?  He wants to speak to you so much.

VOICE. They'd never let him in. The Doctor would give darwaza
bund even if he were in the house.  He'll never come.
(Despairingly.) O Judas! Judas! Judas!

CAPT. G.  (Putting out his arms.) They have let him in, and he
always was in the house  Oh, my love-don't you know me?

VOrCE.  (In a half chant.)  "And it came to pass at the eleventh
hour that this poor soul repented."  It knocked at the gates, but they
were shut-tight as a plaster-a great, burning plaster They had
pasted our marriage certificate all across the door, and it was made
of red-hot iron-people really ought to be more careful, you know.

CAPT. G. What am I  to do? (Taking her in his arms.) Minnie!
speak to me-to Phil.

VOICE. What shall I say? Oh, tell me what to say before it's too
late! They are all going away and I can't say anything.

CAPT. G. Say you know me! Only say you know me!

DOCTOR. (Who has entered quietly.) For pity's sake don't take it
too much to heart, Gadsby. It's this way sometimes. They won't
recognize. They say all sorts of queer things-don't you see?

CAPT. G. All right! All right! Go away now; she'll recognize me;
you're bothering her. She must-mustn't she?

DOCTOR.  She will before- Have I your leave to try?-

CAPT. G. Anything you please, so long as she'll know me.  It's
only a question of-hours, isn't it?

DOCTOR.   (Professionally.)   While there's life there's hope
y'know.  But don't build on it.

CAPT. G.  I don't.  Pull her together if it's possible.  (Aside.)  What
have I done to deserve this?

DOCTOR.  (Bending over bed.) Now, Mrs. Gadsby! We shall be
all right tomorrow. You must take it, or I sha'n't let Phil see you. It
isn't nasty, is it?

Voice.  Medicines!  Always  more medicines! Can't you leave me
alone?

CAPT. G.  Oh, leave her in peace, Doc!

DOCTOR.   (Stepping  back,-aside.) May I be forgiven if I've none
wrong. (Aloud.)  In a few minutes she ought to be sensible; but I
daren't tell you to look for anything. It's only-

CAPT. G. What? Go on, man.

DOCTOR.  (In a whisper.)  Forcing the last rally.

CAPT. G. Then leave us alone.

DOCTOR. Don't mind what she says at first, if you can. They- they
-they turn against those they love most sometimes in this.-It's hard,
but-

CAPT. G. Am I her husband or are you? Leave us alone for what
time we have together.

VOICE.  (Confidentially.)  And we were engaged quite suddenly,
Emma. I assure you that I never thought of it for a moment; but,
oh, my little Me!-I don't know what I should have done if he hadn't
proposed.

CAPT. G. She thinks of that Deercourt girl before she thinks of
me. (Aloud.) Minnie!

VOICE. Not from the shops, Mummy dear. You can get the real
leaves from Kaintu, and (laughing weakly) never mind about the
blossoms-Dead white silk is only fit for widows, and I won't wear
it. It's as bad as a winding sheet. (A long pause.)

CAPT. G. I never asked a favor yet. If there is anybody to listen to
me, let her know me-even if I die too!

VOICE. (Very faintly.) Pip, Pip dear.

CAPT. G. I'm here, darling.

VOICE. What has happened? They've been bothering me so with
medicines and things, and they wouldn't let you come and see me.
I was never ill before. Am I ill now?

CAPT. G.  You-you aren't quite well.

VOICE. How funny! Have I been ill long?

CAPT. G.  Some day; but you'll be all right in a little time.

VOICE.  Do you think so, Pip?  I don't feel well and- Oh! what
have they done to my hair?

CAPT. G.  I d-d-on't know.

VOICE. They've cut it off. What a shame!

CAPT. G. It must have been to make your head cooler.

VOICE. Just like a boy's wig. Don't I look horrid?

CAPT. G.  Never looked prettier in your life, dear.  (Aside.)  How
am I to ask her to say good-bye?

VOICE. I don't feel pretty.  I feel very ill.  My heart won't work. 
It's nearly dead inside me, and there's a funny feeling in my eyes. 
Everything seems the same distance-you and the almirah and the
table inside my eyes or miles away.  What does it mean, Pip?

CAPT. G.  You're a little feverish, Sweetheart-very feverish. 
(Breaking down.) My love! my love! How can I let you go?

VOICE.  I thought so.  Why didn't you tell me that at first?

CAPT. G. What?

VOICE. That I am going to-die.

CAPT.  G.  But you aren't!  You sha'n't.

AYAH to punkah-coolie.  (Stepping into veranda after a glance at
the bed. ). Punkah chor do!  (Stop pulling the punkah.)

VOICE. It's hard, Pip. So very, very hard after one year-just one
year.

(Wailing.) And I'm only twenty. Most girls aren't even married at
twenty. Can't they do anything to help me? I don't want to die.

CAPT. G.  Hush, dear. You won't.

VOICE.  What's the use of talking? Help me! You've never failed
me yet. Oh, Phil, help me to keep alive.  (Feverishly.) I don't
believe you wish me to live. You weren't a bit sorry when that
horrid Baby thing died.  I wish I'd killed it!

CAPT. G. (Drawing his hand across his forehead.)  It's more than a
man's meant to bear-it's not right. (Aloud.) Minnie, love, I'd die for
you if it would help.

VOICE. No more death.  There's enough already. Pip, don't you die
too.

CAPT. G. I wish I dared.

VOICE. It says: "Till Death do us part."  Nothing after that-and so
it would be no use.  It stops at the dying.  Why does it stop there? 
Only such a very short life, too.  Pip, I'm sorry we married.

CAPT. G.  No!  Anything but that, Mm!

VOICE. Because you'll forget and I'll forget.  Oh, Pip, don't forget! 
I always loved you, though I was cross sometimes. If I ever did
anything that you didn't like, say you forgive me now.

CAPT. G. You never did, darling. On my soul and honor you never
did.  I haven't a thing to forgive you.

VOICE.  I sulked for a whole week about those petunias.  (With a
laugh.) What a little wretch I was, and how grieved you were! 
Forgive me that, Pp.

CAPT. G. There's nothing to forgive. It was my fault. They were
too near the drive.  For God's sake don't talk so, Minnie!  There's
such a lot to say and so little time to say it in.

VOICE.  Say that you'll always love me-until the end.

CAPT. G.  Until the end.  (Carried away.) It's a lie. It must be,
because we've loved each other. This isn't the end.

VOICE.   (Relapsing  into  semi-delirium.)  My Church-service has
an ivory-cross on the back, and it says so, so it must be true. "Till
Death do us part."-but that's a lie.  (With a parody of G.'s manner.) 
A damned lie! (Recklessly.) Yes, I can swear as well as a Trooper,
Pip. I can't make my head think, though. That's because they cut
off my hair. How can one think with one's head all fuzzy?  
(Pleadingly.) Hold me, Pip! Keep me with you always and always. 
(Relapsing.)  But if you marry the Thorniss girl when I'm dead, I'll
come back and howl under our bedroom window all night. Oh,
bother!  You'll think I'm a jackall. Pip, what time is it?

CAPT. G. A little before the dawn, dear.

VOICE.  I wonder where I shall be this time to-morrow?

CAPT. G. Would you like to see the Padre?

VOICE. Why should I?  He'd tell me that I am going to heaven;
and that wouldn't be true, because you are here. Do you recollect
when he upset the cream-ice all over his trousers at the Gassers'
tennis?

CAPT. G. Yes, dear.

VOICE. I often wondered whether he got another pair of trousers;
but then his are so shiny all over that you really couldn't tell unless
you were told. Let's call him in and ask.

CAPT. G.  (Gravely.)  No. I don't think he'd like that. 'Your head
comfy, Sweetheart?'

VOICE.  (Faintly with a sigh of contentment.) Yeth! Gracious, Pip,
when did you shave last? Your chin's worse than the barrel of a
musical box.-No, don't lift it up. I like it. (A pause.) You said
you've never cried at all. You're crying all over my cheek.

CAPT. G. I-I-I can't help it, dear.

VOICE. How funny!  I couldn't cry now to save my life. (G.
shivers.)  I want to sing.

CAPT. G. Won't it tire you? 'Better not, perhaps.

VOICE. Why? I won't be bothered about.  (Begins in a hoarse
quaver)

"Minnie bakes oaten cake, Minnie brews ale, All because her
Johnnie's coming home from the sea. (That's parade, Pip.) And she
grows red as a rose, who was so pale; And 'Are you sure the
church-clock goes?' says she."

(Pettishly.) I knew I couldn't take the last note. How do the bass
chords run?  (Puts out her hands and begins playing piano on the
sheet.)

CAPT. G. (Catching up hands.) Ahh! Don't do that, Pussy, if you
love me.

VOICE. Love you? Of course I do. Who else should it be? (A
pause.)

VOICE. (Very clearly.) Pip, I'm gomg now.  Something's choking
me cruelly.  (Indistinctly.) Into the dark-without you, my heart -But
it's a lie, dear-we mustn't believe it.-Forever and ever, living or
dead. Don't let me go, my husband-hold me tight.-They can't-
whatever happens.  (A cough.) Pip-my Pip!  Not for always-and-
so-soon! (Voice ceases.)

Pause of ten minutes. G. buries his face in the side of the bed while
AYAH bends over bed from opposite side and feels Mas. G.'s
breast and forehead.

CAPT. G.  (Rising.)  Doctor Sahib ko salaam do.

AYAH.  (Still by bedside, with a shriek.) Ail Ail  Tuta-phuta! My
Memsahib! Not getting-not have got! -Pusseena agyal   (The sweat
has come.)  (Fiercely to G.)  TUM jao Doctor Sahib ko jaldi! (You
go to the doctor.) Oh, my Memsahib!

DOCTOR.  (Entering hastily.)  Come away, Gadsby. (Bends over
bed.) Eb! The Dev- What inspired you to stop the punkab? Get out,
man-go away-wait outside! Go! Here, Ayab! (Over his shoulder to
G.)  Mind I promise nothing.

The dawn breaks as G. stumbles into the garden.

CAPT. M. (Rehung up at the gate on his way to parade and very
soberly.) Old man, how goes?

CAPT. G.  (Dazed.)  I don't quite know.  Stay a bit.  Have a drink
or something.  Don't run away.  You're just getting amusing. Ha!
ha!

CAPT. M. (Aside.) What am I let in for?  Gaddy has aged ten years
in the night.

CAPT. G. (Slowly, fingering charger's headstall.) Your curb's too
loose.

CAPT. M.  So it is. Put it straight, will you?  (Aside.) I shall be late
for parade. Poor Gaddy.

CAPT. G. links and unlinks curb-chain aimlessly, and finally
stands staring toward the veranda. The day brightens.

DOCTOR.  (Knocked out of professional gravity, tramping across
flower-beds and shaking G's hands.) It'-it's-it's !-Gadsby, tbere's a
fair chance-a dashed fair chance.  The flicker, y'know.  The sweat,
y'know  I saw how  it  would  be.  The  punkab, y'know.  Deuced
clever woman that Ayah of yours.  Stopped the punkab just at the
right time. A dashed good chance!  No-you don't go in. We'll pull
her through yet I promise on my reputation-under Providence.
Send a man with this note to Bingle.  Two heads better than one.
'Specially the Ayah!  We'll pull her round.  (Retreats hastily to
house.)

CAPT. G. (His head on neck of M.'s charger.) Jack! I bub-bu-
believe, I'm going to make a bu-bub-bloody exhibitiod of byself.

CAPT. M.  (Sniffing openly and feelmg in his left cuff.) I
b-b-believe, I'b doing it already.  Old bad, what cad I say?  I'b as
pleased as-Cod dab you, Gaddy! You're one big idiot and I'b
adother. (Pulling himself together.) Sit tight!  Here comes the
Devil-dodger.

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN.  (Who is not in the Doctor's confidence.) 
We-we are only men in these things, Gadsby.  I know that I can say
nothing now to help

CAPT. M.  (fealously.)  Then don't say it  Leave him alone. It's not
bad enough to croak over.  Here, Gaddy, take the chit to Bingle
and ride hell-for-leather. It'll do you good. I can't go.

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN. Do him good! (Smiling.)  Give me the chit
and I'll drive. Let him lie down. Your horse is blocking my
cart-please!

CAPT. M.  (Slowly without reining back.) I beg your pardon-I'll
apologize. On paper if you like.

JUNIOR CHAPLAIN.  (Flicking M.'s charger.) That'll do, thanks.
Turn in, Gadsby, and I'll bring Bingle back-ahem-"hell-for-
leather."

CAPT. M.  (Solus.)  It would have served me right if he'd cut me
across the face. He can drive too. I shouldn't care to go that pace in
a bamboo cart. What a faith he must have in his Maker-of harness! 
Come hup, you brute!  (Gallops off to parade, blowing his nose, as
the sun rises.)

(INTERVAL OF' FIVE WEEKS.)

MRS. G.  (Very white and pinched, in morning wrapper at break
fast table.) How big and strange the room looks, and how glad I am
to see it again! What dust, though!  I must talk to the servants.
Sugar, Pip? I've almost forgotten.  (Seriously.) Wasn't I very ill?

CAPT. G. Iller than I liked.  (Tenderly.) Oh, you bad little Pussy,
what a start you gave me'

MRS. G. I'll never do it again.

CAPT. G.  You'd better not.  And now get those poor pale cheeks
pink again, or I shall be angry. Don't try to lift the urn.  You'll
upset it.  Wait. (Comes round to head of table and lifts urn.)

Mas. G. (Quickly.) Khitmatgar, howarchikhana see kettly lao.
Butler, get a kettle from the cook-house.  (Drawing down G.'s face
to her own.) Pip dear, I remember.

CAPT. G. What?

Mas. G. That last terrible night.

CAPT'. G. Then just you forget all about it.

Mas. G.  (Softly, her eyes filling.) Never. It has brought us very
close together, my husband. There! (Interlude.) I'm going to give
Junda a saree. 

CAPT. G. I gave her fifty dibs.

Mas. G.  So she told me. It was a 'normous reward.  Was I worth
it? (Several interludes.)  Don't!  Here's the khitmatgar.-Two lumps
or one Sir?

THE SWELLING OF JORDAN

If thou hast run with the footmen and they have wearied thee, then
how canst thou contend with horses? And if in the land of peace
wherein thou trustedst they wearied thee, then how wilt thou do in
the swelling of Jordan?

SCENE.-The GADSBYS' bungalow in the Plains, on a January
morning. Mas. G. arguing with bearer in back veranda.

CAPT. M. rides up.

CAPT. M.  'Mornin', Mrs. Gadsby. How's the Infant Phenomenon
and the Proud Proprietor?

Mas. G. You'll find them in the front veranda; go through the
house.  I'm Martha just now.

CAPT. M,  'Cumbered about with cares of Khitmatgars? I fly.

Passes into front veranda, where GADSBV is watching GADSBY
JUNIOR, aged ten months, crawling about the matting.

CAPT. M. What's the trouble, Gaddy-spoiling an honest man's
Europe morning this way? (Seeing G. JUNIOR.) By Jove, that
yearling's comm' on amaxingly!  Any amount of bone below the
knee there.

CAPT. G. Yes, he's a healthy little scoundrel.  Don't you think his
hair's growing?

CAPT. M. Let's have a look. Hi!  Hst Come here, General Luck,
and we'll report on you.

MRS. G.  (Within.)  What absurd name will you give him next?
Why do you call him that?

CAPT. M. Isn't he our Inspector-General of Cavalry? Doesn't he
come down in his seventeen-two perambulator every morning the
Pink Hussars parade? Don't wriggle, Brigadier. Give us your
private opinion on the way the third squadron went past.  'Trifle
ragged, weren t they?

CAPT. G. A bigger set of tailors than the new draft I don't wish to
see. They've given me more than my fair share-knocking the
squadron out of shape. It's sickening!

CAPT. M. When you're in command, you'll do better, young 'un.
Can't you walk yet? Grip my finger and try. (To G.) 'Twon't hurt
his hocks, will it?

CAPT. G.  Oh, no.  Don't let him flop, though, or he'll lick all the
blacking off your boots.

MRS. G.  (Within.) Who's destroy mg my son's character?

CAPT. M. And my Godson's. I'm ashamed of you, Gaddy. Punch
your father in the eye, Jack!  Don't you stand it! Hit him again I

CAPT. G.  (Sotto voce.)  Put The Butcha down and come to the 
end of the veranda. I'd rather the Wife didn't hear-just now.

CAPT. M.  You look awf'ly serious.  Anything wrong?

CAPT. G. 'Depends on your view entirely. I say, Jack, you won't
think more hardly of me than you can help, will you? Come further
this way.-The fact of the matter is, that I've made up my mind-at
least I'm thinking seriously of-cutting the Service.

CAPT. M. Hwhatt?

CAPT. G. Don't shout. I'm going to send in my papers.

CAPT. M. You! Are you mad?

CAPT. G. No-only married.

CAPT. M. Look here! What's the meaning of it all? You never
intend to leave us. You can't. Isn't the best squadron of the best
regiment of the best cavalry in all the world good enough for you?

CAPT. G.  (Jerking his head over his shoulder.)  She doesn't seem
to thrive in this God-forsaken country, and there's The Butcha to
be considered and all that, you know.

CAPT. M.  Does she say that she doesn't like India?

CAPT. G. That's the worst of it. She won't for fear of leaving me.

CAPT. M. What are the Hills made for?

CAPT. G. Not for my wife, at any rate.

CAPT. M.  You know too much, Gaddy, and -I don't like you any
the better for it!

CAPT. G. Never mind that.  She wants England, and The Butcha
would be all the better for it. I'm going to chuck. You don't
understand.

CAPT. M.  (Hotly.)  I understand this One hundred and
thirty-seven new horse to be licked into shape somehow before
Luck comes round again; a hairy-heeled draft who'll give more
trouble than the horses; a camp next cold weather for a certainty;
ourselves the first on the roster; the Russian shindy ready to come
to a head at five minutes' notice, and you, the best of us all, 
backing out of it all!  Think a little, Gaddy. You won't do it.

CAPT. G. Hang it, a man has some duties toward his family, I
suppose.

CAPT. M. I remember a man, though, who told me, the night after
Amdheran, when we were picketed under Jagai, and he'd left his
sword-by the way, did you ever pay Ranken for that sword?-in an
Utmanzai's head-that man told me that he'd stick by me and the
Pinks as long as he lived. I don't blame him for not sticking by
me-I'm not much of a man-but I do blame him for not sticking by
the Pink Hussars.

CAPT. G.  (Uneasily.) We were little more than boys then.  Can't
you see, Jack, how things stand?  'Tisn't as if we were serving for
our bread. We've all of us, more or less, got the filthy lucre. I'm
luckier than some, perhaps. There's no call for me to serve on.

CAPT. M. None in the world for you or for us, except the
Regimental. If you don't choose to answer to that, of course-

CAPT. G. Don't be too hard on a man. You know that a lot of us
only take up the thing for a few years and then go back to Town
and catch on with the rest.

CAPT. M. Not lots, and they aren't some of Us.

CAPT. G. And then there are one's affairs at Home to be
considered-my place and the rents, and all that. I don't suppose my
father can last much longer, and that means the title, and so on.

CAPT. M.  'Fraid you won't be entered in the Stud Book correctly
unless you go Home?  Take six months, then, and come out in
October.  If I could slay off a brother or two, I s'pose I should be a
Marquis of sorts.  Any fool can be that; but it needs men, Gaddy-
men like you-to lead flanking squadrons properly. Don't you
delude yourself into the belief that you're going Home to take your
place and prance about among pink-nosed Kabuli dowagers.  You
aren't built that way.  I know better.

CAPT. G. A man has a right to live his life as happily as he can. 
You aren't married.

CAPT. M.  No-praise be to Providence and the one or two women
who have had the good sense to jawab me.

CAPT. G. Then you don't know what it is to go into your own
room and see your wife's head on the pillow, and when everything
else is safe and the house shut up for the night, to wonder whether
the roof-beams won't give and kill her.

CAPT. M.  (Aside.)  Revelations first and second!  (Aloud.)  So-o! 
I knew a man who got squiffy at our Mess once and confided to
me that he never helped his wife on to her horse without praymg
that she'd break her neck before she came back.  All husbands
aren't alike, you see.

CAPT. G. What on earth has that to do with my case? The man
must ha' been mad, or his wife as bad as they make 'em.

CAPT. M.  (Aside.)  'No fault of yours if either weren't all you say.
You've forgotten the time when you were insane about the Herriott
woman.  You always were a good hand at forgetting. (Aloud.) Not
more mad than men who go to the other extreme.  Be reasonable,
Gaddy.  Your roof-beams are sound enough.

CAPT. G. That was only a way of speaking. I've been uneasy and
worried about the Wife ever since that awful business three years
ago-when-I nearly lost her. Can you wonder?

CAPT. M. Oh, a shell never falls twice in the same place. You've
paid your toll to misfortune-why should your Wife be picked out
more than anybody else's?

CAPT. G. I can talk just as reasonably as you can, but you don't
understand-you don't understand. And then there's The Butcha. 
Deuce knows where the Ayah takes him to sit in the evening! He
has a bit of a cough. Haven't you noticed it?

CAPT. M.  Bosh!  The Brigadier's jumping out of his skin with
pure condition. He's got a muzzle like a rose-leaf and the chest of a
two-year-old.  What's demoralized you?

CAPT. G. Funk. That's the long and the short of it.  Funk!

CAPT. M.  But what is there to funk?

CAPT. G. Everything.  It's ghastly.

CAPT. M. Ah! I see.

You don't want to fight, And by Jingo when we do, You've got the
kid, you've got the Wife,  You've got the money, too.

That's about the case, eh?

CAPT. G. I suppose that's it. But it's not br myself. It's because of
them. At least I think it is.

CAPT. M. Are you sure? Looking at the matter in a cold-blooded
light, the Wife is provided for even if you were wiped out tonight. 
She has an ancestral home to go to, money and the Brigadier to
carry on the illustrious name.

CAPT. G. Then it is for myself or because they are part of me. You
don't see it. My life's so good, so pleasant, as it is, that I want to
make it quite safe. Can't you understand?

CAPT. M. Perfectly.  "Shelter-pit for the Off'cer's charger," as they
say in the Line.

CAPT. G. And I have everything to my hand to make it so.  I'm
sick of the strain and the worry for their sakes out here; and there
isn't a single real difficulty to prevent my dropping it altogether. 
It'll only cost me-Jack, I hope you'll never know the shame that I've
been going through for the past six months.

CAPT. M. Hold on there! I don't wish to he told. Every man has
his moods and tenses sometimes.

CAPT. G.  (Laughing brtterly.)  Has he? What do you call craning
over to see where your near-fore lands?

CAPT. M. In my case it means that I have been on the
Considerable Bend, and have come to parade with a Head and a
Hand. It passes in three strides.

CAPT. G. (Lowering voice.) It never passes w'th me, Jack.  I'm
always thinking about it. Phil Gadsby funking a fall on parade! 
Sweet picture, isn't it! Draw it for me.

CAPT. M.  (Gravely.) Heaven forbid! A man like you can't be as
bad as that. A fall is no nice thing, but one never gives it a thought.

CAPT. G. Doesn't one?  Wait till you've got a wife and a youngster
of your own, and then you'll know how the roar of the squadron
behind you turns you cold all up the back.

CAPT. M.  (Aside.)  And this man led at Amdheran after Bagal
Deasin went under, and we were all mixed up together, and he
came out of the snow dripping like a butcher. (Aloud.) Skittles!
The men can always open out, and you can always pick your way
more or less. We haven't the dust to bother us, as the men have,
and whoever heard of a horse stepping on a man?

CAPT. G. Never-as long as he can see. But did they open out for
poor Errington?

CAPT. M.  Oh, this is childish!

CAPT. G. I know it is, worse than that. I don't care. You've ridden
Van Loo. Is he the sort of brute to pick his way-'specially when
we're coming up in column of troop with any pace on?

CAPT. M. Once in a Blue Moon do we gallop in column of troop,
and then only to save time. Aren't three lengths enough for you?

CAPT. G. Yes-quite enough.  They just allow for the full
development of the smash. I'm talking like a cur, I know: but I tell
you that, for the past three months, I've felt every hoof of the
squadron in the small of my back every time that I've led. 

CAPT. M. But, Gaddy, this is awful!

CAPT. G. Isn't it lovely?  Isn't it royal? A Captain of the Pink
Hussars watering up his charger before parade like the blasted
boozing Colonel of a Black Regiment!

CAPT. M. You never did!

CAPT. G. Once Only. He squelched like a mussuck, and the
Troop-Sergeant-Major cocked his eye at me. You know old Haffy's
eye. I was afraid to do it again.

CAPT. M. I should think so. That was the best way to rupture old
Van Loo's tummy, and make him crumple you up. You knew that.

CAPT. G. I didn't care. It took the edge off him.

CAPT. M. "Took  the  edge  off  him"? Gaddy, you-you-you
mustn't, you know!  Think of the men.

CAPT. G. That's another thing I am afraid of. D'you s'pose they
know?

CAPT. M. Let's hope not;  but they're deadly quick to spot
skirm-little things of that kind.  See here, old man, send the Wife
Home for the hot weather and come to Kashmir with me. We'll
start a boat on the Dal or cross the Rhotang-shoot ibex or loaf-
which you please. Only come! You're a bit off your oats and you're
talking nonsense.  Look at the Colonel-swag-bellied rascal that he
is. He has a wife and no end of a bow-window of his own. Can any
one of us ride round him-chalkstones and all?  I can't, and I think I
can shove a crock along a bit.

CAPT. G. Some  men  are  different.  I haven't any nerve.  Lord
help me, I haven't the nerve! I've taken up a hole and a half to get
my knees well under the wallets.  I can't help it.  I'm so afraid of
anything happening to me. On my soul, I ought to be broke in front
of the squadron, for cowardice.

CAPT. M. Ugly word, that. I should never have the courage to own
up.

CAPT. G. I meant to lie about my reasons when I began, but-I've
got out of the habit of lying to you, old man.  Jack, you won't?-But
I know you won't.

CAPT. M. Of course not.  (Half aloud.) The Pinks are paying
dearly for their Pride.

CAPT. G. Eb!  What-at?

CAPT. M. Don't you know? The men have called Mrs. Gadsby the
Pride of the Pink Hussars ever since she came to us.

CAPT. G. 'Tisn't her fault.  Don't think that.  It's all mine.

CAPT. M. What does she say?

CAPT. G. I haven't exactly put it before her. She's the best little
woman in the world, Jack, and all that-but she wouldn't counsel a
man to stick to his calling if it came between him and her. At least,
I think-

CAPT. M. Never mind.  Don't tell her what you told me.  Go on
the Peerage and Landed-Gentry tack.

CAPT. G. She'd see through it.  She's five times cleverer than I am.

CAPT. M. (Aside.) Then she'll accept the sacrifice and think a
little bit worse of him for the rest of her days.

CAPT. G. (Absentl'y.) I say, do you despise me?

CAPT. M. 'Queer way of putting it. Have you ever been asked that
question? Think a minute.  What answer used you to give?

CAPT. G. So bad as that?  I'm not entitled to expect anything
more, but it's a bit hard when one's best friend turns round and-

CAPT. M. So ! have found  But you will have consolations-Bailiffs
and Drains and Liquid Manure and the Primrose League, and,
perhaps, if you're lucky, the Colonelcy of a Yeomanry Cav-al-ry
Regiment-all uniform and no riding, I believe.  How old are you?

CAPT. G. Thirty-three.  I know it's-

CAPT. M. At forty you'll be a fool of a J. P. landlord.  At fifty
you'll own a bath-chair, and The Brigadier, if he takes after you,
will be fluttering the dovecotes  of-what's  the  particular dunghill
you're going to?  Also, Mrs. Gadsby will be fat.

CAPT. G. (Limply.)  This is rather more than a joke.

CAPT. M. D'you think so?  Isn't cutting the Service a joke? It
generally takes a man fifty years to arrive at it. You're quite right,
though. It is more than a joke.  You've managed it in thirty-three.

CAPT. G. Don't make me feel worse than I do. Will it satisfy you
if I own that I am a shirker, a skrim-shanker, and a coward?

CAPT. M. It wil! not, because I'm the only man in the world who
can talk to you like this without being knocked down. You mustn't
take all that I've said to heart in this way. I only spoke-a lot of it at
least-out of pure selfishness, because, because-Oh, damn it all, old
man,-I don't know what I shall do without you.  Of course, you've
got the money and the place and all that-and there are two very
good reasons why you should take care of yourself.

CAPT. G. 'Doesn't make it any sweeter. I'm backing out-I know I
am.  I always had a soft drop in me somewhere-and I daren't risk
any danger to them.

CAPT. M. Why in the world should you? You're bound to think of
your family-bound  to  think.  Er-hmm.  If  I wasn't a younger son
I'd go too-be shot if I wouldn't I!

CAPT. G. Thank you, Jack. It's a kind lie, but it's the blackest
you've told for some time.  I know what I'm doing, and I'm going
into it with my eyes open. Old man, I can't help it. What would you
do if you were in my place?

CAPT. M. (Aside.) 'Couldn't conceive any woman getting
permanently between me and the Regiment.  (Aloud.)  'Can't say.
'Very likely I should do no better. I'm sorry for you-awf'ly sorry-but
"if them's your sentiments," I believe, I really do, that you are
acting wisely.

CAPT. G. Do you? I hope you do. (In a whisper.)  Jack, be very
sure of yourself before you marry. I'm an ungrateful ruffian to say
this, but marriage-even as good a marriage as mine has been-
hampers a man's work, it cripples his sword-arm, and oh, it plays
Hell with his notions of duty.  Sometimes-good and sweet as she
is-sometimes I could wish that I had kept my freedom- No, I don't
mean that exactly.

MRS. G. (Coming down veranda.) What are you wagging your
head ove; Pip? 

CAPT. M. (Turning quickly.) Me, as usual. The old sermon. Your
husband is recommending me to get married. 'Never saw such a
one-ideaed man.

MRS. G.  Well, why don't you?  I dare say you would make some
woman very happy.

CAPT. G. There's the Law and the Prophets, Jack. Never mind the
Regiment. Make a woman happy. (Aside.) O Lord!

CAPT. M. We'll see. I must be off to make a Troop Cook
desperately unhappy. I won't have the wily Hussar fed on
Government Bullock Train shinbones- (Hastily.)  Surely black ants
can't be good for The Brigadier.  He's picking em off the matting
and eating 'em. Here, Senor Comandante Don Grubbynuse, come
and talk to me.  (Lifts G. JUNIOR in his arms.) 'Want my watch?
You won't be able to put it into your mouth, but you can try.  (G.
JUNIOR drops watch, breaking dial and hands.)

MRS. G.  Oh, Captain Mafflin, I am so sorry! Jack, you bad, bad
little villain. Ahhh!

CAPT. M. It's not the least consequence, I assure you.  He'd treat
the world in the same way if he could get it into his hands.
Everything's made to be played, with and broken, isn't it, young
'un?

*     *     *    *    *    *

MRS. G.  Mafflin didn't at all like his watch being broken, though
he was too polite to say so.  It was entirely his fault for giving it to
the child. Dem little puds are werry, werry feeble, aren't dey, by
Jack-in-de-box? (To G.) What did he want to see you for?

CAPT. G. Regimental shop as usual.

MRS. G. The Regiment! Always the Regiment.  On my word, I
sometimes feel jealous of Mafflin.

CAPT. G. (Wearily.)  Poor old Jack?  I don't think you need. Isn't it
time for The Butcha to have his nap? Bring a chair out here, dear. 
I've got some thing to talk over with you.

AND THIS IS THE END OF THE STORY OF THE GADSBYS





End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of the Gadsby, by Rudyard Kipling

