In literature a drama genre deserves your attention. Dramas are usually called plays. Every person is made up of two parts: good and evil. Due to life circumstances, the human reveals one or another side of his nature. In drama we can see the full range of emotions : it can be love, jealousy, hatred, fear, etc. The best drama books are full of dialogue. This type of drama is one of the oldest forms of storytelling and has existed almost since the beginning of humanity. Drama genre - these are events that involve a lot of people. People most often suffer in this genre, because they are selfish. People always think to themselves first, they want have a benefit.The 'Mind the Paint' Girl by Arthur Wing Pinero (i am malala young readers edition TXT) đź“–
- Author: Arthur Wing Pinero
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Book online «The 'Mind the Paint' Girl by Arthur Wing Pinero (i am malala young readers edition TXT) 📖». Author Arthur Wing Pinero
Jimmie.
Oh, but that’s ideal! Gabrielle reappears. Dash these girls! To Gabrielle, whose complexion is much improved. Lord Farncombe is writing me out a remedy for freckles. Isn’t it sweet of him?
Gabrielle.
Mournfully. Freckles! If you want to see a martyr to freckles, knock at my door.
Enid returns, with lips that are a little too red, as Von Rettenmayer and de Castro re-enter at the door on the left. They leave the door open. Von Rettenmayer is carrying a syphon of soda-water and de Castro two tumblers. The men put the syphon and tumblers on the centre table and Von Rettenmayer fills the glasses and he and de Castro hand them to Enid and Gabrielle.
Von Rettenmayer.
To Enid and Gabrielle. I hobe we haf nod kepd you waiding.
De Castro.
Bertie’th been makin’ himthelf a reg’lar nuithanthe downthairth.
Enid.
Poor Bertie! Pity he has this little failing.
Gabrielle.
With mild enthusiasm. Yes, there’s not a nicer boy in London than Bertie, bar that.
De Castro.
Flieth to hith head tho!
The four continue talking. Jimmie has gone back to Farncombe, who is still writing, and is watching him impatiently.
Jimmie.
To Farncombe, under her breath. Do be quick!
Hastily he blots his note and folds it. Bland, Fulkerson, and Roper appear on the landing, issuing from the staircase, and there they are joined by Lily, who comes down the stairs.
Fulkerson.
On the landing, to Lily, indignantly. Lirry—Misspa’dell——
Jimmie.
To Farncombe. Here she is!
Roper.
To Fulkerson. Now, then; have it out with Lily!
Lily.
What’s wrong?
Farncombe rises and slips his note into Jimmie’s hand.
Fulkerson.
To Lily. Mosht unjusht’fiable treatmen’ ’n th’ part ’f these gen’lemen!
Von Rettenmayer.
Listening, with the others at the centre table, to what is going on upon the landing. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Jimmie.
To Farncombe, over her shoulder. Good luck!
Bland.
To Lily. The youth is irate with us for cutting off supplies.
Lily enters with Fulkerson; Roper and Bland following. Bland strolls over to the piano, laughing.
Fulkerson.
To Lily. M’ argumen’ is this. When a gen’leman’sh invited b’ th’ lady ’f th’ house t’ partake ’f refreshmen’——
Lily.
To Fulkerson. Be quiet, Bertie, or I’ll box your ears. Joining the group at the centre table. Ho, ho! I’ve had such a wigging for asking you up. Mother says we girls’ll look as ugly as sin on the stage to-night.
Enid.
So we shall—hags.
Lily.
Sitting in the arm-chair by the centre table. I feel as fresh as paint. To Gabrielle. Give me a sip.
De Castro hands Gabrielle’s glass to Lily.
Fulkerson.
Gazing at Daphne stupidly and singing to himself. “Oh, the gals! Oh, the gals! I am awfully fond of the gals!——”
Von Rettenmayer, Roper, de Castro, Enid and Gabrielle.
Chiming in with Fulkerson lightly. “Be they ebon or blond, Of the gals I am fond;——”! Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Bland.
H’sh, h’sh! Ma’s quite right. Seating himself at the piano. One more turn and then let’s clear out.
Lily.
Jumping up. Hurrah! To Roper, as Bland runs his hands over the key-board. Shut the door, Uncle Lal.
Von Rettenmayer.
Aha! One more durn! To Enid. Enid——!
Fulkerson.
Singing. “I am dreadfully fond of the gals!”
Roper.
Closing the door. Choose your partners, gents! Very softly Bland plays the melody of a languorous song and instantly Von Rettenmayer and Enid and de Castro and Gabrielle dance to it—Von Rettenmayer and Enid at the back, de Castro and Gabrielle near the piano. Jimmie——!
Jimmie passes Lily to go to Roper. As she does so, she presses Farncombe’s note into Lily’s palm.
Jimmie.
To Lily, in a whisper. Rat-tat, says the postman! Catching hold of Roper and swinging him round. La, ra, ral, la——!
Lily.
To Farncombe, who is standing by the writing-table. Lord Farncombe——?
Farncombe goes to her and they dance together.
Fulkerson.
To Daphne, tapping her on the shoulder. Missdure, may I have th’ grea’ pleasure——? Shaking her. Missdure—Missdure——
Daphne.
Starting up. Oh! Looking round wildly. Oh——!
Fulkerson.
Dancing with her. Pray ’xcuse th’ absence ’f gloves.
Daphne.
Faintly. Oh! Oh, I—I thought I’d gone to bed!
With their hands on each other’s shoulders, the couples, swaying from side to side, half sing, half murmur, the refrain of the song.
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If you would only, only love me;
If you would merely, merely say,
Wait but a little, little for me,
I will be yours, be yours some day!
The refrain is repeated, the dancers droning to it with a, buzzing sound, and then Bland returns to the melody.
Lily.
As she dances, recollecting the note she is holding and opening it. What’s this? Reading the note, her arm resting upon Farncombe’s shoulder. “Dear Miss Parradell.... glancing at the signature Farncombe”! To Farncombe. From you!
Farncombe.
Yes.
Lily.
Reading. “Will you allow me to——?”
She reads to the end silently, and then she stops dancing and they stand for a moment looking confusedly at each other. Then, with an expressionless face, she slips the note into her dress and they dance again, singing the refrain as before.
Bland.
At the finish, shutting down the lid of the piano and rising. Ladies and gentlemen, the festivities connected with Miss Parradell’s birthday are over. Leaving the piano. Our lives will now resume their normal, serious course.
Von Rettenmayer.
Regretfully. Ah-h-h-h!
The ladies put on their wraps, the men their overcoats, and there is a great deal of stir and chatter. De Castro assists Gabrielle; Von Rettenmayer, Enid; Fulkerson, Daphne; and Farncombe, Jimmie. Lily joins in the talk and bustle with forced animation. Jimmie and Farncombe glance at her, and then, inquiringly, at one another.
Roper.
Putting on his overcoat with Bland’s help. Well, nobody can say the affair hasn’t been a brilliant success; that’s one comfort.
Gabrielle.
Wouldn’t be true if they did. To de Castro, irritably. You’ve got it inside-out.
Lily.
To Enid and Gabrielle, kneeling upon the settee. Ah, yes, haven’t we had a splendid, splendid time!
Enid.
Splendid!
Von Rettenmayer.
A gharming pardy!
De Castro.
Abtholutely A 1!
Von Rettenmayer.
Singing. “Venus, seinen Nacken beut Dir Dein Sklave, dienstbereit!”
Lily.
Running to Roper and seizing his hands. A vote of thanks to Lal for his share in getting it up!
Bland.
Slapping Roper on the back. Bravo, Lal!
Some of the Others.
Bravo, Lal!
Lily.
Walking about. And to Carlton! Bravo, Carlton!
Some of the Others.
Bravo, Carlton! Bravo, Smythe!
De Castro.
Putting on his overcoat. Don’t forget Morrie Coolin’!
Lily.
No, don’t forget Morrie. Dear old Morrie!
Some of the Others.
Bravo, Morrie!
De Castro.
There hathn’t been a hitch from thtart to finish, in fact.
Lily.
At the nearer side of the table again. Not a hitch.
Fulkerson.
Remembering his grievance. I beg yo’ par’n—no’ a ’itch! In difficulties with his overcoat. When a gen’leman’sh invited b’ th’ lady ’f th’ house t’ partake ’f some refreshmen’——
Some of the Others.
Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Gabrielle.
Coming to Lily and kissing her. So long, dear.
Enid, Daphne, and Jimmie also come to Lily, who embraces them demonstratively, and the men follow.
Lily.
To the girls. Ta-ta; ta-ta; ta-ta! I won’t come down.
Enid.
No, no; we’ll let ourselves out. Leaving Lily. Till to-night!
Lily.
Till to-night! Shaking hands with the men. Ta-ta; ta-ta; ta-ta!
The Men.
Ta-ta! Ta-ta! Ta-ta!
Von Rettenmayer.
Kissing her hand slyly. Goddess!
Lily.
To Bland, in a whisper. Take care of Bertie. Everybody moves to the door, except Lily who remains standing in the middle of the room. Some are on the landing, some in the doorway, when she calls to Roper and Jimmie. Uncle Lal! Jimmie! I want to speak to you two for a second. Roper and Jimmie detach themselves from the rest and return. Oh—and Lord Farncombe! Farncombe also returns and Lily, passing him, goes on to the landing and mixes with the others. Be off; Lord Farncombe and Lal will look after Jimmie. Vincent, you close the front-door. No noise! Au revoir, mes enfants! She watches them descend the stairs and, her manner softening, comes back into the room. Lord Farncombe wants to have a quiet talk with me, Uncle Lal—about—about something, and he’s asked me to let him remain behind with Jimmie for a few minutes. To Jimmie. But there’s no necessity for you to wait, dear.
Jimmie.
Don’t consider me.
Lily.
But I do. Go upstairs and tell mother that Lord Farncombe’s with me. Say I promise he shan’t stay long. To Roper. You’ll take Jimmie home, won’t you, Lal?
Roper.
His eyes bolting. W-w-with pleasure.
Lily.
To Jimmie. I shall see you again later in the day, perhaps?
Jimmie.
Rather! Throwing her arms round Lily’s neck and pressing her cheek to Lily’s. Rather! To Roper, significantly. Sit in the hall till I’m ready.
She runs out on to the landing, pausing at the door to bestow a parting nod and a smile upon Farncombe, and ascends the stairs.
Roper.
In a state of great excitement and exhilaration—to Lily. Yes, yes, I won’t keep you and— winking at her and jerking his head in Farncombe’s direction from your tête-à -tête. Patting her face gleefully. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Taking her hand, his own quivering. Lil, Uncle Lal you call me, but I’ve always felt more like a parent towards you—acted as such, hey?
Lily.
Y-y-yes, Lal.
Roper.
And any happiness that befalls you—any happiness that befalls you— choking I’ll leave it there. God bless yer; God bless yer! bustling over to Farncombe who, his hat in his hand, his overcoat on his arm, is standing near the piano and God bless you, my lad! incoherently I’m proud—proud to have the honour—and to have been the means of—the means of— wringing Farncombe’s hand God bless you both! He goes to the door and there finds Lily. I—I—I—I’ll drop in by-and-by and—and—and inquire after you, my pet.
Lily.
Faintly. All right, Lal.
Roper.
Patting her face again. Ha, ha, ha, ha! With a hop. Wurrr-roo! Stand away from the lift; no more passengers this journey!
He waves to Farncombe gaily and departs, closing the door. There is a short silence and then Farncombe places his hat and overcoat upon the chair by the piano and turns to Lily.
Farncombe.
In a low voice. It’s awfully kind and gracious of you to have granted my request, and frightfully selfish of me to have made it. I deserve to be kicked.
Lily.
Slowly advancing to the table in the centre—avoiding his gaze. Is—is Jimmie aware of precisely what’s in your note?
Farncombe.
Y-y-yes. Drawing nearer to her. I hope
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