Quality Street: A Comedy

SERGEANT. Nay, ma'am, I think it be a secret as yet.

PHOEBE. But a gentleman! 'Tis the most amazing, exciting thing. Sergeant, be so obliging.

SERGEANT. Nay, ma'am, I can't.

MISS SUSAN (at door, carried away by excitement). But you must, you must!

SERGEANT (turning to the door). You see, ma'am —

(The door is hurriedly closed.)

PHOEBE (ashamed). Sergeant, I have not been saying the things I meant to say to you. Will you please excuse my turning you out of the house somewhat violently.

SERGEANT. I am used to it, ma'am.

PHOEBE. I won't really hurt you.

SERGEANT. Thank you kindly, ma'am.

PHOEBE (observing the bedroom door opening a little, and speaking in a loud voice). I protest, sir; we shall permit no followers in this house. Should I discover you in my kitchen again I shall pitch you out – neck and crop. Begone, sir.

(The SERGEANT retires affably. All the ladies except MISS HENRIETTA come out, admiring PHOEBE. The WILLOUGHBYS are attired for their journey across the street.)

MISS WILLOUGHBY. Miss Phoebe, we could not but admire you.

(PHOEBE, alas, knows that she is not admirable.)

PHOEBE. But the gentleman recruit?

MISS SUSAN. Perhaps they will know who he is at the woollen-drapers.

MISS FANNY. Let us inquire.

(But before they go MISS WILLOUGHBY has a duty to perform.)

MISS WILLOUGHBY. I wish to apologise. Miss Phoebe, you are a dear, good girl. If I have made remarks about her ringlets, Susan, it was jealousy. (PHOEBE and MISS SUSAN wish to embrace her, but she is not in the mood for it.) Come, sister.

MISS FANNY (the dear woman that she is). Phoebe, dear, I wish you very happy.

(PHOEBE presses her hand.)

MISS HENRIETTA (entering, and not to be outdone). Miss Phoebe, I give you joy.

(The three ladies go, the two younger ones a little tearfully, and we see them pass the window.)

PHOEBE (pained). Susan, you have been talking to them about V. B.

MISS SUSAN. I could not help it. (Eagerly) Now, Phoebe, what is it you have to tell me?

PHOEBE (in a low voice). Dear, I think it is too holy to speak of.

MISS SUSAN. To your sister?

PHOEBE. Susan, as you know, I was sitting with an unhappy woman whose husband has fallen in the war. When I came out of the cottage he was passing.

MISS SUSAN. Yes?

PHOEBE. He offered me his escort. At first he was very silent – as he has often been of late.

MISS SUSAN. We know why.

PHOEBE. Please not to say that I know why. Suddenly he stopped and swung his cane. You know how gallantly he swings his cane.

MISS SUSAN. Yes, indeed.

PHOEBE. He said: 'I have something I am wishful to tell you, Miss Phoebe; perhaps you can guess what it is.'

MISS SUSAN. Go on!

PHOEBE. To say I could guess, sister, would have been unladylike. I said: 'Please not to tell me in the public thoroughfare'; to which he instantly replied: 'Then I shall call and tell you this afternoon.'

MISS SUSAN. Phoebe!

(They are interrupted by the entrance of PATTY with tea. They see that she has brought three cups, and know that this is her impertinent way of implying that mistresses, as well as maids, may have a 'follower.' When she has gone they smile at the daring of the woman, and sit down to tea.)

PHOEBE. Susan, to think that it has all happened in a single year.

MISS SUSAN. Such a genteel competency as he can offer; such a desirable establishment.

PHOEBE. I had no thought of that, dear. I was recalling our first meeting at Mrs. Fotheringay's quadrille party.

MISS SUSAN. We had quite forgotten that our respected local physician was growing elderly.

PHOEBE. Until he said: 'Allow me to present my new partner, Mr. Valentine Brown.'

MISS SUSAN. Phoebe, do you remember how at the tea-table he facetiously passed the cake-basket with nothing in it!

PHOEBE. He was so amusing from the first. I am thankful, Susan, that I too have a sense of humour. I am exceedingly funny at times; am I not, Susan?

MISS SUSAN. Yes, indeed. But he sees humour in the most unexpected things. I say something so ordinary about loving, for instance, to have everything either blue or white in this room, and I know not why he laughs, but it makes me feel quite witty.

PHOEBE (a little anxiously). I hope he sees nothing odd or quaint about us.

MISS SUSAN. My dear, I am sure he cannot.

PHOEBE. Susan, the picnics.

MISS SUSAN. Phoebe, the day when he first drank tea in this house.