You Can Never Tell

must tell him. Dolly Oh, Finch is no good at telling things. Look at the mess he has made of telling us. McComas I have not been allowed to speak. I protest against this. Dolly Taking his arm coaxingly. Dear Finch: don’t be cross. Mrs. Clandon Gloria: let us go in. He may arrive at any moment. Gloria Proudly. Do not stir, mother. I shall not stir. We must not run away. Mrs. Clandon Delicately rebuking her. My dear: we cannot sit down to lunch just as we are. We shall come back again. We must have no bravado. Gloria winces, and goes into the hotel without a word. Come, Dolly. As she goes into the hotel door, the waiter comes out with plates, etc., for two additional covers on a tray. Waiter Gentlemen come yet, ma’am? Mrs. Clandon Two more to come yet, thank you. They will be here, immediately. She goes into the hotel. The waiter takes his tray to the service table. Philip I have an idea. Mr. McComas: this communication should be made, should it not, by a man of infinite tact? McComas It will require tact, certainly. Philip Good! Dolly: whose tact were you noticing only this morning? Dolly Seizing the idea with rapture. Oh, yes, I declare! William! Philip The very man! Calling. William! Waiter Coming, sir. McComas Horrified. The waiter! Stop, stop! I will not permit this. I⁠— Waiter Presenting himself between Philip and McComas. Yes, sir. McComas’s complexion fades into stone grey; and all movement and expression desert his eyes. He sits down stupefied. Philip William: you remember my request to you to regard me as your son? Waiter With respectful indulgence. Yes, sir. Anything you please, sir. Philip William: at the very outset of your career as my father, a rival has appeared on the scene. Waiter Your real father, sir? Well, that was to be expected, sooner or later, sir, wasn’t it? Turning with a happy smile to McComas. Is it you, sir? McComas Renerved by indignation. Certainly not. My children know how to behave themselves. Philip No, William: this gentleman was very nearly my father: he wooed my mother, but wooed her in vain. McComas Outraged. Well, of all the⁠— Philip Sh! Consequently, he is only our solicitor. Do you know one Crampton, of this town? Waiter Cockeyed Crampton, sir, of the Crooked Billet, is it? Philip I don’t know. Finch: does he keep a public house? McComas Rising scandalized. No, no, no. Your father, sir, is a well-known yacht builder, an eminent man here. Waiter Impressed. Oh, beg pardon, sir, I’m sure. A son of Mr. Crampton’s! Dear me! Philip Mr. Crampton is coming to lunch with us. Waiter Puzzled. Yes, sir. Diplomatically. Don’t usually lunch with his family, perhaps, sir? Philip Impressively. William: he does not know that we are his family. He has not seen us for eighteen years. He won’t know us. To emphasize the communication he seats himself on the iron table with a spring, and looks at the waiter with his lips compressed and his legs swinging. Dolly We want you to break the news to him, William. Waiter But I should think he’d guess when he sees your mother, miss. Philip’s legs become motionless at this elucidation. He contemplates the waiter raptly. Dolly Dazzled. I never thought of that. Philip Nor I. Coming off the table and turning reproachfully on McComas. Nor you. Dolly And you a solicitor! Philip Finch: Your professional incompetence is appalling. William: your sagacity puts us all to shame. Dolly You really are like Shakespeare, William. Waiter Not at all, sir. Don’t mention it, miss. Most happy, I’m sure, sir. Goes back modestly to the luncheon table and lays the two additional covers, one at the end next the steps, and the other so as to make a third on the side furthest from the balustrade. Philip Abruptly. Finch: come and wash your hands. Seizes his arm and leads him toward the hotel. McComas I am thoroughly vexed and hurt, Mr. Clandon⁠— Philip Interrupting him. You will get used to us. Come, Dolly. McComas shakes him off and marches into the hotel. Philip follows with unruffled composure. Dolly Turning for a moment on the steps as she follows them. Keep your wits about you, William. There will be fireworks. Waiter Right, miss. You may depend on me, miss. She goes into the hotel. Valentine comes lightly up the steps from the beach, followed doggedly by Crampton. Valentine carries a walking stick. Crampton, either because he is old and chilly, or with some idea of extenuating the unfashionableness of his reefer jacket, wears a light overcoat. He stops at the chair left by McComas in the middle of the terrace, and steadies himself for a moment by placing his hand on the back of it. Crampton Those steps make me giddy. He passes his hand over his forehead. I have not got over that infernal gas yet. He goes to the iron chair, so that he can lean his elbows on the little table to prop his head as he sits. He soon recovers, and begins to unbutton his overcoat. Meanwhile Valentine interviews the waiter. Valentine Waiter! Waiter Coming forward between them. Yes, sir. Valentine Mrs. Lanfrey Clandon. Waiter With a sweet smile of welcome. Yes, sir. We’re expecting you, sir. That is your table, sir. Mrs. Clandon will be down presently, sir. The young lady and young gentleman were just talking about your friend, sir. Valentine Indeed! Waiter Smoothly melodious. Yes, sire. Great flow of spirits, sir. A vein of pleasantry, as you might say, sir. Quickly, to Crampton, who has risen to get the overcoat off. Beg pardon, sir, but if you’ll allow me. Helping him to get the overcoat off and taking it from him. Thank you, sir. Crampton sits down again; and the waiter resumes the broken melody. The young gentleman’s latest is that you’re his