Short Plays

man socially. Reginald Deprecating. Oh, I say! The Doctor Rising. However, perhaps it’s too soon for you to try the music-cure yet. It was your mother’s idea; but I’ll call and tell her to wait a day or two. I think she meant to send somebody to play. I must be off now. Look in again later. Meanwhile, sleep as much as you can. Or you might read a little. Reginald What can I read? The Doctor Try the Strand Magazine. Reginald But it’s so frightfully intellectual. It would overtax my brain. The Doctor Oh, well, I suppose it would. Well, sleep. Perhaps I’d better give you something to send you off. He produces a medicine case. Reginald What’s this? Veronal? The Doctor Don’t be alarmed. Only the old-fashioned remedy: opium. Take this Reginald takes a pill: that will do the trick, I expect. If you find after half an hour that it has only excited you, take another. I’ll leave one for you. He puts one on the plate, and pockets his medicine case. Reginald Better leave me a lot. I like pills. The Doctor Thank you: I’m not treating you with a view to a coroner’s inquest. You know, don’t you, that opium is a poison? Reginald Yes, opium. But not pills. The Doctor Well, Heaven forbid that I, a doctor, should shake anybody’s faith in pills. But I shan’t leave you enough to kill you. He puts on his hat. Reginald You’ll tell them, won’t you, not to let anyone in. Really and truly I shall throw myself out of the window if any stranger comes in. I should go out of my mind. The Doctor None of us have very far to go to do that, my young friend. Ta ta, for the moment. He makes for the central doors. Reginald You can’t go out that way. I made my mother lock it and take away the key. I felt sure they’d let somebody in that way if she didn’t. You’ll have to go the way you came. The Doctor Returning. Right. Now let me see you settle down before I go. I want you to be asleep before I leave the room. Reginald settles himself to sleep with his face to the back of the sofa. The Doctor goes softly to the side door and goes out. Reginald Sitting up wildly and staring affrightedly at the piano. Doctor! Doctor! Help!!! The Doctor Returning hastily. What is it? Reginald After another doubtful look at the piano. Nothing. He composes himself to sleep again. The Doctor Nothing! There must have been something or you wouldn’t have yelled like that. Pulling Reginald over so as to see his face. Here! what was it? Reginald Well, it’s gone. The Doctor What’s gone? Reginald The crocodile. The Doctor The crocodile! Reginald Yes. It laughed at me, and was going to play the piano with its tail. The Doctor Opium in small doses doesn’t agree with you, my young friend. Taking the spare pill from the plate. I shall have to give you a second pill. Reginald But suppose two crocodiles come! The Doctor They won’t. If anything comes it will be something pretty this time. That’s how opium acts. Anyhow, you’ll be fast asleep in ten minutes. Here. Take it. Reginald After taking the pill. It was awfully silly of me. But you know I really saw the thing. The Doctor You needn’t trouble about what you see with your eyes shut. He turns to the door. Reginald Would you mind looking under the sofa to make sure the crocodile isn’t there? The Doctor Why not look yourself? that would be more convincing. Reginald I daren’t. The Doctor You duffer! He looks. All serene. No crocodile. Now go bye bye. He goes out. Reginald again composes himself to sleep. Somebody unlocks the central doors. A lovely Lady enters with a bouquet in her hand, She looks about her; takes a letter from wherever she carries letters; and starts on a voyage of discovery round the room, checking her observations by the contents of the letter. The piano seems specially satisfactory: she nods as she sees it. Reginald seems also to be quite expected. She does not speak to him. When she is quite satisfied that she is in the right room, she goes to the piano and tantalizes the expectant audience for about two minutes by putting down her flowers on the candle-stand; taking off her gloves and putting them with the flowers; taking off half a dozen diamond rings in the same way; sitting down to the keyboard and finding it too near to the piano, then too far, then too high, then too low: in short, exhausting all the tricks of the professional pianist before she at last strikes the keys and preludes brilliantly. At the sound, Reginald, with a scream, rolls from the sofa and writhes on the carpet in horrible contortions. She stops playing, amazed. Reginald Oh! Oh! Oh! The crocodiles! Stop! Ow! Oh! He looks at the piano and sees the Lady. Oh I say! The Lady What on earth do you mean by making that noise when I’m playing? Have you no sense? Have you no manners? Reginald Sitting on the floor. I’m awfully sorry. The Lady Sorry! Why did you do it? Reginald I thought you were a crocodile. The Lady What a silly thing to say! Do I look like a crocodile? Reginald No. The Lady Do I play like a crocodile! Reginald Cautiously rising and approaching her. Well, you know, it’s so hard to know how a crocodile would play. The Lady Stuff! She resumes her playing. Reginald Please! He stops her by shutting the keyboard lid. Who let you in? The Lady Rising threateningly. What is that to you, pray? Reginald Retreating timidly. It’s my room, you know. The Lady It’s nothing of the sort. It’s the Duchess of Dunmow’s room. I know it’s the right one, because she gave me the key; and it was the right key. Reginald But what did she