Misalliance

cup of tea will pick you up. Gunner I’d rather not. I’m all right. Tarleton Going to the sideboard. Here! try a mouthful of sloe gin. Gunner No, thanks. I’m a teetotaler. I can’t touch alcohol in any form. Tarleton Nonsense! This isn’t alcohol. Sloe gin. Vegetarian, you know. Gunner Hesitating. Is it a fruit beverage? Tarleton Of course it is. Fruit beverage. Here you are. He gives him a glass of sloe gin. Gunner Going to the sideboard. Thanks. He begins to drink it confidently; but the first mouthful startles and almost chokes him. It’s rather hot. Tarleton Do you good. Don’t be afraid of it. Mrs. Tarleton Going to him. Sip it, dear. Don’t be in a hurry. Gunner sips slowly, each sip making his eyes water. Johnny Coming forward into the place left vacant by Gunner’s visit to the sideboard. Well, now that the gentleman has been attended to, I should like to know where we are. It may be a vulgar business habit; but I confess I like to know where I am. Tarleton I don’t. Wherever you are, you’re there anyhow. I tell you again, leave it at that. Bentley I want to know too. Hypatia’s engaged to me. Hypatia Bentley: if you insult me again⁠—if you say another word, I’ll leave the house and not enter it until you leave it. Johnny Put that in your pipe and smoke it, my boy. Bentley Inarticulate with fury and suppressed tears. Oh! Beasts! Brutes! Mrs. Tarleton Now don’t hurt his feelings, poor little lamb! Lord Summerhays Very sternly. Bentley: you are not behaving well. You had better leave us until you have recovered yourself. Bentley goes out in disgrace, but gets no further than halfway to the pavilion door, when, with a wild sob, he throws himself on the floor and begins to yell. Mrs. Tarleton Running to him. Oh, poor child, poor child! Don’t cry, duckie: he didn’t mean it: don’t cry. Lord Summerhays Stop that infernal noise, sir: do you hear? Stop it instantly. Johnny That’s the game he tried on me. There you are! Now, mother! Now, Patsy! You see for yourselves. Hypatia Covering her ears. Oh you little wretch! Stop him, Mr. Percival. Kick him. Tarleton Steady on, steady on. Easy, Bunny, easy. Lina Leave him to me, Mrs. Tarleton. Stand clear, please. She kneels opposite Bentley; quickly lifts the upper half of him from the ground; dives under him; rises with his body hanging across her shoulders; and runs out with him. Bentley In scared, sobered, humble tones as he is borne off. What are you doing? Let me down. Please, Miss Szczepanowska⁠—they pass out of hearing. An awestruck silence falls on the company as they speculate on Bentley’s fate. Johnny I wonder what she’s going to do with him. Hypatia Spank him, I hope. Spank him hard. Lord Summerhays I hope so. I hope so. Tarleton: I’m beyond measure humiliated and annoyed by my son’s behavior in your house. I had better take him home. Tarleton Not at all: not at all. Now, Chickabiddy: as Miss Lina has taken away Ben, suppose you take away Mr. Brown for a while. Gunner With unexpected aggressiveness. My name isn’t Brown. They stare at him: he meets their stare defiantly, pugnacious with sloe gin; drains the last drop from his glass; throws it on the sideboard; and advances to the writing table. My name’s Baker: Julius Baker. Mister Baker. If any man doubts it, I’m ready for him. Mrs. Tarleton John: you shouldn’t have given him that sloe gin. It’s gone to his head. Gunner Don’t you think it. Fruit beverages don’t go to the head; and what matter if they did? I say nothing to you, ma’am: I regard you with respect and affection. Lachrymosely. You were very good to my mother: my poor mother! Relapsing into his daring mood. But I say my name’s Baker; and I’m not to be treated as a child or made a slave of by any man. Baker is my name. Did you think I was going to give you my real name? Not likely. Not me. Tarleton So you thought of John Brown. That was clever of you. Gunner Clever! Yes: we’re not all such fools as you think: we clerks. It was the bookkeeper put me up to that. It’s the only name that nobody gives as a false name, he said. Clever, eh? I should think so. Mrs. Tarleton Come now, Julius⁠— Gunner Reassuring her gravely. Don’t you be alarmed, ma’am. I know what is due to you as a lady and to myself as a gentleman. I regard you with respect and affection. If you had been my mother, as you ought to have been, I should have had more chance. But you shall have no cause to be ashamed of me. The strength of a chain is no greater than its weakest link; but the greatness of a poet is the greatness of his greatest moment. Shakespeare used to get drunk. Frederick the Great ran away from a battle. But it was what they could rise to, not what they could sink to, that made them great. They weren’t good always; but they were good on their day. Well, on my day⁠—on my day, mind you⁠—I’m good for something too. I know that I’ve made a silly exhibition of myself here. I know I didn’t rise to the occasion. I know that if you’d been my mother, you’d have been ashamed of me. I lost my presence of mind: I was a contemptible coward. But slapping himself on the chest I’m not the man I was then. This is my day. I’ve seen the tenth possessor of a foolish face carried out kicking and screaming by a woman. To Percival. You crowed pretty big over me. You hypnotized me. But when you were put through the fire yourself, you were found wanting. I tell you straight I don’t give a damn for you. Mrs. Tarleton No: