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 ***oo; 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 ***oo 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 ****** 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 Iwas 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.
