The 'Mind the Paint' Girl by Arthur Wing Pinero (i am malala young readers edition TXT) 📖

no one can say that of you.

Mrs. Stidulph.

It is a pleasure, meeting all you girls to-night. Of course, one can’t help seeing changes.

Enid.

Icily. Ah, it must be a pleasure, that.

Mrs. Stidulph.

I’m going to scold dear old Carlton by-and-by. He never gave me a birthday-party when I was with him.

Enid.

No; and you had so many birthdays here, hadn’t you?

Cooling returns, entering from the landing, and, after looking at the assembly, goes out at the right-hand door at the back. At the same moment, Flo Connify, Sybil Dermott, Olga Cook, and Evangeline Ventris—four statuesque beauties with impassive faces—enter at the door on the left. Olga is in a dark gown and Evangeline is wearing a rather elaborate head-dress. Instantly there is a movement in the direction of the new arrivals on the part of Roper, Heneage, and Grimwood. De Castro and Fulkerson follow, Fulkerson still leading Farncombe about with him. Mrs. Stidulph turns from Enid disdainfully and joins Nita and Daphne at the fireplace. Tavish and Shirley also move to the left, where they come upon Stidulph and shake hands with him, while Von Rettenmayer and Enid, the latter flushed with victory, seat themselves upon the settee on the right.

Roper.

Hastening to the beauties. Hul-lo! Show your tickets, please! Room inside for four! Shaking hands. How are you, Flo! How are you, Sybil! How are you, Olga! I say, look at ’Vangy!

The Four Beauties.

As the men shake hands with them, mechanically. How d’ye do? How d’ye do? How d’ye do? How d’ye do?

Fulkerson.

Here! I want to introdooce Lord Farncombe. Miss Connify—Lord Farncombe. Miss Dermott—Miss Cook—Miss ’Vangy Ventris—Lord Farncombe.

The Four Beauties.

As before. How d’ye do? How d’ye do? How d’ye do? How d’ye do?

Cooling hurries back.

Cooling.

To everybody. Miss Parradell! Opening the double-door and signalling to the leader of the band. Now!

The band strikes up the air of “Mind the Paint” as Lily enters at the right-hand door at the back with Jimmie Birch. Lily is dressed in white, and altogether fulfils exteriorly Roper’s description of “angelic.” She carries a large bouquet of lilies and pale roses with a broad ribbon flowing from it. All the men but Farncombe, who holds aloof, press round her, Stidulph rising and joining them. The ladies follow.

The Men.

Struggling for her hand. Many happy returns of day! Many happy returns of the day! Many happy returns of the day!

Jimmie.

Battling with the men. Keep away from her! Bertie, you’re on her frock! Mind her frock!

Roper.

Mind the paint!

Some of the Men.

Ha, ha, ha!

Lily.

Holding her bouquet above her head. My roses! Be careful of me, boys! One at a time!

The Men.

Many happy returns of the day!

Lily.

I want to kiss the girls. Girls——!

The men make way for the ladies who come to Lily.

The Ladies.

Many happy returns of the day!

Lily.

Embracing them. Sybil—Nita—! Oh, Mrs. Stidulph!—Enid—Daphne—Gabs—Flo dear—Olga—’Vangy——!

Palk.

Suddenly. Here’s the guv’nor!

Smythe enters at the door on the left. Luigi and the waiters are behind him, the waiters carrying trays on which are sugar-casters and dishes of powdered ginger. At once there is a movement towards Smythe of everybody except those who have already greeted him, and Lily who is detained by Roper and others.

Tavish.

How are you, guv’nor?

Some of the Ladies.

How d’ye do, Mr. Smythe?

Other Ladies.

Hustling him. How are you, Carlton?

Smythe.

In the midst of them all. Girls, girls! I’ll shake hands with you all in turn, girls.

Enid.

Thought you were dead.

Daphne.

Yes; look at Olga—she’s in deep mourning.

Some of the Ladies.

Ha, ha, ha!

Smythe.

Shaking hands. Don’t, girls, don’t; you’re smothering me.

Lily.

During a momentary lull, finding Farncombe standing before her and raising her eyebrows. You! Giving him her hand carelessly. Oh, it isn’t long before we meet again, is it?

Smythe.

Puffing and blowing. That’s the lot of yer. Phew! Where’s Lily? Lily here? The crowd divides, to allow him to advance. Seeing Lily, he opens his arms and she goes to him and lays her head upon his breast. Lil— patting her shoulders my dear!

Lily.

Half gaily, half tearfully. Ha, ha, ha! Carlton!

Smythe.

Go’blessyer! In another tone. Well, what about something to eat!

Luigi.

Ready, Mr. Smythe. Loudly. Ladies and gentlemen, supper is ready!

Smythe.

Ha!

Cooling.

At the principal table. Here you are, Chief! Miss Parradell!

Smythe.

To Lily. Come along!

There is a general hunt for places and much hubbub and confusion.

Cooling.

Calling to Roper. Lal, that’s your table.

Roper.

Imitating a shop-walker. Mr. Roper, forward!

Cooling.

Mrs. Stidulph! Lord Farncombe! Pointing to another table. Glynn, you’re there.

Bland.

Here you are, Daphne!

Roper.

At his table. Miss Kato, wanted!

De Castro.

Calling to Gabrielle. Gabth!

Nita.

Calling to Heneage. Stewie!

Cooling.

Baron—Enid——

Von Rettenmayer.

Aha!

Cooling.

To Stidulph. Over there, Colonel.

Fulkerson.

Wandering about. Where am I? Where am I?

Nita.

Pushing him aside. Oh, be off!

Lily.

Calling. Jimmie!

Cooling.

At his place at a table. Olga, you’re here. Mr. Grimwood!

Fulkerson.

Where am I?

Jimmie.

To Fulkerson. Next to me, worse luck. Screwing up her face at him. Ugh!

Roper.

Ladies’ mantles on the second-floor!

Cooling.

Where’s Sybil?

Daphne.

Calling. Syb! Syb!

The curtain falls, but the music of “Mind the Paint” continues for a while. Then it ceases and, after a short silence, the curtain rises again. The supper-tables have disappeared and the saloon is empty of people. The musicians and their music-stands and stools have also gone, and faintly from the distance comes the sound of a waltz. Two settees, matching the rest of the furniture, now stand in the centre of the saloon back-to-back, one of them facing the counter, the other facing the spectator. Lily’s bouquet lies on the nearer of the two settees, and upon the floor there is a fan, a red rose that has fallen from a lady’s corsage, and a pocket-handkerchief with a powder-puff peeping from it. On the counter there are carafes of lemonade, decanters of spirits and syphons of soda-water, a bowl of strawberries-and-cream, various dishes of cakes, boxes of cigars and cigarettes, a lighted spirit-lamp, and other adjuncts of a buffet. Colonel Stidulph wanders in through the double-door as the waltz comes to an end. Feebly and dejectedly he goes to the counter, takes a cigarette, and is lighting it when Luigi and the waiters enter the door on the left. Two of the waiters are carrying bottles of champagne in wine-coolers, another brings a tray on which are champagne-glasses and tumblers, and the bearded waiter follows with a large dish of sandwiches.

Luigi.

Behind the counter—to Stidulph, familiarly. Ain’t you dancing, Colonel?

Stidulph.

Dancing—I? Shaking his head. No.

Luigi.

Who speaks Cockney English with a slight foreign ascent—cutting the wire of a champagne bottle. Why, you used to be a regular slap-up dancing man when I first knew you.

Stidulph.

Nodding. Ah, ah; moving away my dancing days are done.

Luigi.

Done! Oh, I like that! I bet you ain’t sixty, come now, eh?

Stidulph.

What’s the time, Luigi? I haven’t a watch on.

Luigi.

Time, Colonel? Looking at his watch. Twenty to three.

Stidulph.

No later? Sitting on the settee on the right, with a sigh. Oh, dear!

One of the waiters goes out, in obedience to a direction from Luigi, at the door on the left as Heneage enters with Enid, Grimwood with Nita, and Von Rettenmayer with Mrs. Stidulph at the right-hand door at the back. A wisp of hair has fallen over Heneage’s forehead, Grimwood looks somewhat downcast, and Von Rettenmayer is obviously bored by Mrs. Stidulph.

Enid.

To Heneage, walking across to the left. Never been to Ostend! You’ve never been born, then. I’m counting the hours to my holiday. Sitting in the chair on the nearer side of the fireplace. Hôtel de la Plage. Why don’t you run over while I’m there?

Nita.

To Grimwood, following Enid. My dear boy, I give you my solemn word it wasn’t you. It was that fool Bertie. Anyhow, it’s a rotten old frock. Showing a small rent in her skirt to Enid, gaily. Pom, pa-ra, rom, pom, pom!

Heneage and Grimwood go to the counter, secure a waiter, and return with him to Enid and Nita. The waiter receives his orders and presently fetches the ladies glasses of lemonade.

Mrs. Stidulph.

Whispering to Von Rettenmayer. Well! Did you ever! Just fancy!

Von Rettenmayer.

Absently, looking at Enid. I beg your bardon?

Mrs. Stidulph.

Fancy those two girls walking into a room before us! Discovering the fan upon the floor. Oh, I do believe that’s my fan!

Von Rettenmayer restores the fan to Mrs. Stidulph as Roper and Gabrielle enter at the door on the left.

Gabrielle.

To Roper, in a low, complaining voice. It’s a shame of you; that’s what it is. You went and put Lily Parradell into rubber and enabled her to make a bit. She told us so.

Roper.

Yes; but how long ago?

Gabrielle.

That’s not the point. The point is, it’s always Lily Parradell with you; you never do anything for us other girls.

She sits upon the nearer settee in the centre and she and Roper, he standing by her, continue their conversation.

Mrs. Stidulph.

To Von Rettenmayer. No, thanks; I’m on a diet. Didn’t you notice me at supper? Moving to the settee on the right. Let’s sit. To Stidulph. Oh, get up. Stidulph rises quickly. Why aren’t you dancing? If you don’t dance, go home and put yourself to bed. You might, for all the good you’re doing here.

Stidulph.

With a forced, painful laugh. Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!

Von Rettenmayer.

As Mrs. Stidulph seats herself. Blenty of room for you too, Golonel.

Stidulph.

No, no; I won’t inconvenience you.

He moves away and Von Rettenmayer sits beside Mrs. Stidulph. The waiter who has previously gone out now returns at the door on the left with a tray of ices in paper cases. He goes to the counter for a supply of ice-spoons as Farncombe enters with Lily at the right-hand door at the back. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes sparkling.

Roper.

All his attention suddenly directed to Lily and Farncombe. Here’s Lil!

Lily.

Excitedly, seizing Stidulph’s hand. You’re not dancing, Colonel Stidulph. Showing him her programme. Dance with me. I’ll make one of the others give up a dance for you.

Stidulph.

Going to the counter. No, no; I’m too old.

Lily.

Too old for dancing! I shall never be too old for dancing. Coming to the nearer settee in the centre, picking up her bouquet, and sitting beside Gabrielle. Ah-h-h-h!

Roper.

To Farncombe, who follows Lily. Hul-lo! Beaming. Jolly party, hey, Farncombe?

Farncombe.

Boyishly. Lovely! To Lily. May I bring you some lemonade—an ice——?

Lily.

Looking up at him. You may keep on bringing me ices till the music starts again. Farncombe leaves her. Gabby, wasn’t that waltz delicious!

Palk and Sybil enter at the door on the left. Sybil seats herself beside Nita on the fender-stool and Palk fetches her some refreshment.

Gabrielle.

To Lily, drearily.