Mrs. Warren’s Profession

epub:type="z3998:persona">Praed Oh, it doesn’t matter about me. I⁠— Vivie You have had a long walk and are hungry, Mr. Praed: you shall have your supper at once. I can wait myself. I want one person to wait with me. Frank: are you hungry? Frank Not the least in the world⁠—completely off my peck, in fact. Mrs. Warren To Crofts. Neither are you, George. You can wait. Crofts Oh, hang it, I’ve eaten nothing since teatime. Can’t Sam do it? Frank Would you starve my poor father? Rev. S. Testily. Allow me to speak for myself, sir. I am perfectly willing to wait. Vivie Decisively. There’s no need. Only two are wanted. She opens the door of the inner room. Will you take my mother in, Mr. Gardner. The Rev. S. takes Mrs. Warren; and they pass into the next room. Praed and Crofts follow. All except Praed clearly disapprove of the arrangement, but do not know how to resist it. Vivie stands at the door looking in at them. Can you squeeze past to that corner, Mr. Praed: it’s rather a tight fit. Take care of your coat against the whitewash⁠—that’s right. Now, are you all comfortable? Praed Within. Quite, thank you. Mrs. Warren Within. Leave the door open, dearie. Frank looks at Vivie; then steals to the cottage door and softly sets it wide open. Oh Lor’, what a draught! You’d better shut it, dear. Vivie shuts it promptly. Frank noiselessly shuts the cottage door. Frank Exulting. Aha! Got rid of ’em. Well, Vivvums: what do you think of my governor! Vivie Preoccupied and serious. I’ve hardly spoken to him. He doesn’t strike me as a particularly able person. Frank Well, you know, the old man is not altogether such a fool as he looks. You see, he’s rector here; and in trying to live up to it he makes a much bigger ass of himself than he really is. No, the gov’nor ain’t so bad, poor old chap; and I don’t dislike him as much as you might expect. He means well. How do you think you’ll get on with him? Vivie Rather grimly. I don’t think my future life will be much concerned with him, or with any of that old circle of my mother’s, except perhaps Praed. What do you think of my mother? Frank Really and truly? Vivie Yes, really and truly. Frank Well, she’s ever so jolly. But she’s rather a caution, isn’t she? And Crofts! Oh, my eye, Crofts! Vivie What a lot, Frank! Frank What a crew! Vivie With intense contempt for them. If I thought that I was like that⁠—that I was going to be a waster, shifting along from one meal to another with no purpose, and no character, and no grit in me, I’d open an artery and bleed to death without one moment’s hesitation. Frank Oh no, you wouldn’t. Why should they take any grind when they can afford not to? I wish I had their luck. No: what I object to is their form. It isn’t the thing: it’s slovenly, ever so slovenly. Vivie Do you think your form will be any better when you’re as old as Crofts, if you don’t work? Frank Of course I do⁠—ever so much better. Vivvums mustn’t lecture: her little boy’s incorrigible. He attempts to take her face caressingly in his hands. Vivie Striking his hands down sharply. Off with you: Vivvums is not in a humor for petting her little boy this evening. Frank How unkind! Vivie Stamping at him. Be serious. I’m serious. Frank Good. Let us talk learnedly. Miss Warren: do you know that all the most advanced thinkers are agreed that half the diseases of modern civilization are due to starvation of the affections of the young. Now, I⁠— Vivie Cutting him short. You are getting tiresome. She opens the inner door. Have you room for Frank there? He’s complaining of starvation. Mrs. Warren Within. Of course there is. Clatter of knives and glasses as she moves the things on the table. Here: there’s room now beside me. Come along, Mr. Frank. Frank Aside to Vivie, as he goes. Her little boy will be ever so even with his Vivvums for this. He goes into the other room. Mrs. Warren Within. Here, Vivie: come on, you too, child. You must be famished. She enters, followed by Crofts, who holds the door open with marked deference. She goes out without looking at him; and he shuts the door after her. Why George, you can’t be done: you’ve eaten nothing. Crofts Oh, all I wanted was a drink. He thrusts his hands in his pockets, and begins prowling about the room, restless and sulky. Mrs. Warren Well, I like enough to eat. But a little of that cold beef and cheese and lettuce goes a long way. With a sigh of only half repletion she sits down lazily at the table. Crofts What do you go encouraging that young pup for? Mrs. Warren On the alert at once. Now see here, George: what are you up to about that girl? I’ve been watching your way of looking at her. Remember: I know you and what your looks mean. Crofts There’s no harm in looking at her, is there? Mrs. Warren I’d put you out and pack you back to London pretty soon if I saw any of your nonsense. My girl’s little finger is more to me than your whole body and soul. Crofts receives this with a sneering grin. Mrs. Warren, flushing a little at her failure to impose on him in the character of a theatrically devoted mother, adds in a lower key: Make your mind easy, the young pup has no more chance than you have. Crofts Mayn’t a man take an interest in a girl? Mrs. Warren Not a man like you. Crofts How old is she? Mrs. Warren Never you mind how old she is. Crofts Why do you make such