You Can Never Tell

table on Mrs. Clandon’s side. When they are settled, he fixes Crampton with his eye, and begins. In this family, it appears, the husband’s name is Crampton: the wife’s Clandon. Thus we have on the very threshold of the case an element of confusion. Valentine Getting up and speaking across to him with one knee on the ottoman. But it’s perfectly simple. Bohun Annihilating him with a vocal thunderbolt. It is. Mrs. Clandon has adopted another name. That is the obvious explanation which you feared I could not find out for myself. You mistrust my intelligence, Mr. Valentine⁠—Stopping him as he is about to protest. No: I don’t want you to answer that: I want you to think over it when you feel your next impulse to interrupt me. Valentine Dazed. This is simply breaking a butterfly on a wheel. What does it matter? He sits down again. Bohun I will tell you what it matters, sir. It matters that if this family difference is to be smoothed over as we all hope it may be, Mrs. Clandon, as a matter of social convenience and decency, will have to resume her husband’s name. Mrs. Clandon assumes an expression of the most determined obstinacy. Or else Mr. Crampton will have to call himself Mr. Clandon. Crampton looks indomitably resolved to do nothing of the sort. No doubt you think that an easy matter, Mr. Valentine. He looks pointedly at Mrs. Clandon, then at Crampton. I differ from you. He throws himself back in his chair, frowning heavily. McComas Timidly. I think, Bohun, we had perhaps better dispose of the important questions first. Bohun McComas: there will be no difficulty about the important questions. There never is. It is the trifles that will wreck you at the harbor mouth. McComas looks as if he considered this a paradox. You don’t agree with me, eh? McComas Flatteringly. If I did⁠— Bohun Interrupting him. If you did, you would be me, instead of being what you are. McComas Fawning on him. Of course, Bohun, your specialty⁠— Bohun Again interrupting him. My specialty is being right when other people are wrong. If you agreed with me I should be of no use here. He nods at him to drive the point home; then turns suddenly and forcibly on Crampton. Now you, Mr. Crampton: what point in this business have you most at heart? Crampton Beginning slowly. I wish to put all considerations of self aside in this matter⁠— Bohun Interrupting him. So do we all, Mr. Crampton. To Mrs. Clandon. You wish to put self aside, Mrs. Clandon? Mrs. Clandon Yes: I am not consulting my own feelings in being here. Bohun So do you, Miss Clandon? Gloria Yes. Bohun I thought so. We all do. Valentine Except me. My aims are selfish. Bohun That’s because you think an impression of sincerity will produce a better effect on Miss Clandon than an impression of disinterestedness. Valentine, utterly dismantled and destroyed by this just remark, takes refuge in a feeble, speechless smile. Bohun, satisfied at having now effectually crushed all rebellion, throws himself back in his chair, with an air of being prepared to listen tolerantly to their grievances. Now, Mr. Crampton, go on. It’s understood that self is put aside. Human nature always begins by saying that. Crampton But I mean it, sir. Bohun Quite so. Now for your point. Crampton Every reasonable person will admit that it’s an unselfish one⁠—the children. Bohun Well? What about the children? Crampton With emotion. They have⁠— Bohun Pouncing forward again. Stop. You’re going to tell me about your feelings, Mr. Crampton. Don’t: I sympathize with them; but they’re not my business. Tell us exactly what you want: that’s what we have to get at. Crampton Uneasily. It’s a very difficult question to answer, Mr. Bohun. Bohun Come: I’ll help you out. What do you object to in the present circumstances of the children? Crampton I object to the way they have been brought up. Bohun How do you propose to alter that now? Crampton I think they ought to dress more quietly. Valentine Nonsense. Bohun Instantly flinging himself back in his chair, outraged by the interruption. When you are done, Mr. Valentine⁠—when you are quite done. Valentine What’s wrong with Miss Clandon’s dress? Crampton Hotly to Valentine. My opinion is as good as yours. Gloria Warningly. Father! Crampton Subsiding piteously. I didn’t mean you, my dear. Pleading earnestly to Bohun. But the two younger ones! you have not seen them, Mr. Bohun; and indeed I think you would agree with me that there is something very noticeable, something almost gay and frivolous in their style of dressing. Mrs. Clandon Impatiently. Do you suppose I choose their clothes for them? Really this is childish. Crampton Furious, rising. Childish! Mrs. Clandon rises indignantly. All rising and speaking together. McComas Crampton, you promised⁠— Valentine Ridiculous. They dress charmingly. Gloria Pray let us behave reasonably. Tumult. Suddenly they hear a chime of glasses in the room behind them. They turn in silent surprise and find that the waiter has just come back from the bar in the garden, and is jingling his tray warningly as he comes softly to the table with it. Waiter To Crampton, setting a tumbler apart on the table. Irish for you, sir. Crampton sits down a little shamefacedly. The waiter sets another tumbler and a syphon apart, saying to Bohun, Scotch and syphon for you, sir. Bohun waves his hand impatiently. The waiter places a large glass jug in the middle. And claret cup. All subside into their seats. Peace reigns. Mrs. Clandon Humbly to Bohun. I am afraid we interrupted you, Mr. Bohun. Bohun Calmly. You did. To the waiter, who is going out. Just wait a bit. Waiter Yes, sir. Certainly, sir. He takes his stand behind Bohun’s chair. Mrs. Clandon To