Chapter XIX: A Play in One Act

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

MISS CARSTON _Aunt Elsie_
MR. MAITLAND _Uncle Marcus_
MARCUS }
DINAH } _Dogs_
PEGGY }

MISS CARSTON _on the sofa, in the library at Bestways, suffering from
sciatica_. MR. MAITLAND _in an armchair. He has come from Scotland
anxious to discuss with her a matter of vital importance._

MISS CARSTON. Diana? Oh, yes, she said to me yesterday—Oh, Mr. Maitland, open the door, please. It’s Marky!

(MR. MAITLAND _opens the door_, MARKY _walks in very slowly_.)

MISS CARSTON. Well, Marky man, coming to his mother, is he? There’s a darling—did his ear hurt—not scratch-scratch—beauts-beauts; not scratch-scratch. When mother’s up, she brushes the darling!

MARCUS. (_Scratch, scratch, thump, thump._)

MR. MAITLAND. Yes, what did Diana say?

MISS CARSTON. Oh, Mr. Maitland, please open the door, there’s Peggy—she’s such a wild woman.

(UNCLE MARCUS _opens the door_. PEGGY _rushes in like a whirlwind_.)

MISS CARSTON. Mind mother’s leg—oh, Peggy!

(PEGGY _jumps up, kneads_ ELSIE’S _leg, walks up and down it_.)

MISS CARSTON. Sit still, darling—Marky, don’t scratch—Peggy, lie down—hurt mother’s leg-leg—naughts, naughts—oh, Peggy! (_To_ MR. MAITLAND.) She’s been like this ever since she was born. Oh, Mr. Maitland, would you open the door? I think Marky wants to go out. I am so sorry: if I were up this wouldn’t happen. (_In a loud voice to_ MARCUS:) “Marky, walkie, walkie!”

(MR. MAITLAND _opens the door_. PEGGY _bolts out_, MARCUS _walks out
slowly, and_ DINAH _slithers in_.)

MISS CARSTON. Mother’s lamb—such a darling—beauts-beauts—good-good—gal-gal—get up gently—clev-clev—never steps on mother’s leg—lambkin—saint—look at mother—sweet-sweets—booful eyes! (_To_ MR. MAITLAND.) Isn’t she a darling?

MR. MAITLAND (_ignoring the question_). What did Diana say?

MISS CARSTON. There’s Marky man; coming, darling. Let him in, please, Mr. Maitland—he’s not haps-haps without his mother. Coming, darling!

(MR. MAITLAND _opens the door_.)

MISS CARSTON. Leave it open, please, then they can come in as they like—it will be less trouble.

(MR. MAITLAND _leaves the door open, returns to the armchair, sits
down_.)

MR. MAITLAND. What did Diana say?

(_In rush all the dogs._)

MISS CARSTON. Marky—Marky—Peggy—Peggy—Dinah—Dinah—! I mustn’t make them jealous—mother loves them all. Yes, darlings, mother does. Marky—don’t scratch—Marky! stop! Peggy—mother’s leg. Dinah, was little Dinah frights-frights? Go for walkie-walkie—Dogs! _do_ you hear me when I speak?

(_Exeunt dogs._)

MR. MAITLAND. What did Diana say?

At that moment Diana, Shan’t, and the doctor came into the room.

“You, Uncle Marcus!” exclaimed Diana with rapture.

“Oh, have you come to fetch me, darlin’ Uncle Marcus?” cried Shan’t, ecstatically, throwing herself into his arms.

“Do you want her?” asked Aunt Elsie, who had much to make up, if anything could ever make up. She gave one hand to the doctor, the other to Marcus, dismissing him. “Did you really come to fetch her? It was good of you. Nannie will get her things together as quickly as possible.”

Uncle Marcus said nothing—he was furious: he had not come to fetch Shan’t and Miss Carston knew it.

Later in the day Diana threw her arms round Aunt Elsie and told her how wonderful the dogs had been—“too—too wonderful!”

Aunt Elsie thought she deserved some praise, and Diana allowed she had been too clever for words.

“But think of the cost,” said Aunt Elsie, aching for sympathy.

Diana affected surprise. Did Aunt Elsie mean that she minded what Uncle Marcus thought of her? “It wasn’t as if you wanted to marry him, darling?” she said, seeking to comfort her.

Marry him? Elsie was horrified at the mere thought; but argued that, although you might not want to marry a man, you might not necessarily want to appear an idiot in his eyes. Further, she vowed Diana must have marrying on the brain to have thought of such a thing; and Diana said, What if she had? Whereupon Elsie understood everything in a flash, as it were (so she said). Diana, steadying her, begged her not to understand too much—it was so dangerous—so bewildering—and so overwhelming—it should come gradually, not like an avalanche.

“But you must tell me, darling; think what I have done for you,” pleaded Aunt Elsie. She deserved some reward.

There was nothing to tell. Diana said she had muddled it all. Then there had been something! It could be put right—there was no muddle so bad that an aunt couldn’t straighten it out! All eagerness was Elsie.

“Isn’t there?” asked Diana. “Uncles and aunts are wonderful people.” And she would say nothing more.

“It was rather brilliant on my part, though, wasn’t it?” asked Aunt Elsie, still longing for praise—if she had seemed foolish she would at least have been foolish in a good cause.

“Don’t forget the dogs!” said Diana.