第8章 SCENE I(1)

MRS. ROBERTS, DR. LAWTON, MRS. CRASHAW, MR. BEMIS, YOUNG

MR. AND MRS. BEMIS

MRS. ROBERTS, surrounded by her guests, and confronting from her sofa Mr. Bemis, who still remains sunken in his armchair, has apparently closed an exhaustive recital of the events which have ended in his presence there. She looks round with a mixed air of self-denial and self-satisfaction to read the admiration of her listeners in their sympathetic countenances.

DR. LAWTON, with an ironical sigh of profound impression: 'Well, Mrs. Roberts, you are certainly the most lavishly hospitable of hostesses. Every one knows what delightful dinners you give; but these little dramatic episodes which you offer your guests, by way of appetizer, are certainly unique. Last year an elevator stuck in the shaft with half the company in it, and this year a highway robbery, its daring punishment and its reckless repetition--what the newspapers will call "A Triple Mystery" when it gets to them--and both victims among our commensals! Really, I don't know what more we could ask of you, unless it were the foot-padded footpad himself as a commensal. If this sort of thing should become de rigueur in society generally, I don't know what's to become of people who haven't your invention.'

MRS. ROBERTS: 'Oh, it's all very well to make fun now, Dr. Lawton; but if you had been here when they first came in--'

YOUNG MRS. BEMIS: 'Yes, indeed, I think so too, Mrs. Roberts. If Mr. Bemis--Alfred, I mean--and papa hadn't been with me when you came out there to prepare us, I don't know what I should have done.

I should certainly have died, or gone through the floor.' She looks fondly up into the face of her husband for approval, where he stands behind her chair, and furtively gives him her hand for pressure.'

YOUNG MR. BEMIS: 'Somebody ought to write to the Curwens--Mrs.

Curwen, that is--about it.'

MRS. BEMIS, taking away her hand: 'Oh yes, papa, DO write!'

LAWTON: 'I will, my dear. Even Mrs. Curwen, dazzling away in another sphere--hemisphere--and surrounded by cardinals and all the other celestial lights there at Rome, will be proud to exploit this new evidence of American enterprise. I can fancy the effect she will produce with it.'

MRS. ROBERTS: 'And the Millers--what a shame they couldn't come!

How excited they would have been!--that is, Mrs. Miller. Is their baby very bad, Doctor?'

LAWTON: 'Well, vaccination is always a very serious thing--with a first child. I should say, from the way Mrs. Miller feels about it, that Miller wouldn't be able to be out for a week to come yet.'

MRS. ROBERTS: 'Oh, how ridiculous you are, Doctor!'

BEMIS, rising feebly from his chair: 'Well, now that it's all explained, Mrs. Roberts, I think I'd better go home; and if you'll kindly have them telephone for a carriage--'

MRS. ROBERTS: 'NO, indeed, Mr. Bemis! We shall not let you go.

Why, the IDEA! You must stay and take dinner with us, just the same.'

BEMIS: 'But in this state--'

MRS. ROBERTS: 'Oh, never mind the STATE. You look perfectly well; and if you insist upon going, I shall know that you bear a grudge against Edward for not arresting him. Wait! We can put you in perfect order in just a second.' She flies out of the room, and then comes swooping back with a needle and thread, a fresh white necktie, a handkerchief, and a hair-brush. 'There! I can't let you go to Edward's dressing-room, because he's there himself, and the children are in mine, and we've had to put the new maid in the guest-chamber--you ARE rather cramped in flats, that's true; that's the worst of them--but if you don't mind having your toilet made in public, like the King of France--'

BEMIS, entering into the spirit of it: 'Not the least; but--' He laughs, and drops back into his chair.

MRS. ROBERTS, distributing the brush to young Mr. Bemis, and the tie to his wife, and dropping upon her knees before Mr. Bemis: 'Now, Mrs. Lou, you just whip off that crumpled tie and whip on the fresh one, and, MISTER Lou, you give his hair a touch, and I'll have this torn button-hole mended before you can think.' She seizes it and begins to sew vigorously upon it.

MRS. CRASHAW: 'Agnes, you are the most ridiculously sensible woman in the country.'

LAWTON, standing before the group, with his arms folded and his feet well apart, in an attitude of easy admiration: 'The Wounded Adonis, attended by the Loves and Graces. Familiar Pompeiian fresco.'

MRS. ROBERTS, looking around at him: 'I don't see a great many Loves.'

LAWTON: 'She ignores us, Mrs. Crashaw. And after what you've just said!'

MRS. ROBERTS: 'Then why don't you do something?'