GEORGE SHAW - The Complete Works

“Yes. Mr Jack let her into the shrubbery; and she appeared to me at the window without a word of warning.”

“Mr Jack is a nice person to have in a respectable house,” said Mrs. Beatty scornfully. “Do you know where I saw him last?”

“No,” said Mary impatiently; “and I do not want to know. I am tired of Mr Jack’s misdemeanors.”

“Misdemeanors! I call it scandal, Mary. A perfect disgrace!”

“Dear me! What has he done now?’

“You may well ask. He is at present shewing himself in the streets of Windsor in company with common soldiers, openly entering the taverns with them.”

“O Aunt Jane! Are you sure?”

Perhaps you will allow me to believe my senses. I drove through the town on my way here — you know what a small town is, Mrs Herbert, and how everybody knows everybody else by sight in it, let alone such a remarkable looking person as this Mr Jack; and the very first person I saw was Private Charles, the worst character in my husband’s regiment, conversing with my nephew’s tutor at the door of the ‘Green Man.’ They went into the bar together before my eyes. Now, what do you think of your Mr Jack?”

“He may have had some special reason”

“Special reason! Fiddlestick! What right has any servant of my brother’s to speak to a profligate soldier in broad daylight in the streets?* There can be no excuse for it. If Mr Jack, had a particle of selfrespect he would maintain a proper distance between himself and even a full sergeant. But this Charles is such a drunkard that he spends half his time in cells. He would have been dismissed from the regiment long since, only he is a bandsman; and the bandmaster begs Colonel Beatty not to get rid of him, as he cannot be replaced.”

“If he is a bandsman,” said Mary, “that explains it. Mr Jack wanted musical information from him, I suppose.”

“I declare, Mary, it is perfectly wicked to hear you defend such conduct. Is a public house the proper place for learning music? Why could not Mr Jack apply to your uncle? If he had addressed himself properly to me, Colonel Beatty could have ordered the man to give him whatever information was required of him.”

“I must say, aunt, that you are the last person I should expect Mr Jack to ask a favor from, judging by your usual manner towards him.”

“There!” said Mrs Beatty, turning indignantly to Mrs Herbert. “That is the way I am treated in this house to gratify Mr Jack. Last week I was told that I was in the habit of gossiping with servants, because Mrs Williams housemaid met him in the Park on Sunday — on Sunday, mind — whistling and singing and behaving like a madman. And now, when Mary’s favorite is convicted in the very act of carousing with the lowest of the low, she turns it off by saying that I do not know how to behave myself before a tutor.”

“I did not say so, aunt; and you know that very well.”

“Oh, well, of course if you are going to fly out at me—”

“I am not flying at you, aunt; but you are taking offence without the least reason; and you are making Mrs Herbert believe that I am Mr Jack’s special champion — you called him my favorite. The truth is, Mrs Herbert, that nobody likes this Mr Jack; and we only keep him because Charlie makes some progress with him, and respects him. Aunt Jane took a violent dislike to him”

“I, Mary! What is Mr Jack to me that I should like or dislike him, pray?”

“ — and she is always bringing me stories of his misdoings, as if they were my fault. Then, when I try to defend him from obvious injustice, I am accused of encouraging and shielding him.”

“So you do,” said Mrs Beatty.

“I say whatever I can for him,” said Mary sharply, “because I dislike him too much to condescend to join in attacks made on him behind his back. And I am not afraid of him, though you are, and so is Papa.”

“Oh, really you are too ridiculous,” said Mrs Beatty. “Afraid!”

“I see,” said Mrs Herbert smoothly, “that my acquaintance the Cyclop has made himself a bone of contention here. Since you all dislike him, why not dismiss him and get a more popular character in his place? He is really not an ornament to your establishment. Where is your father, Mary?”

“He has gone out to dine at Eton; and he will not be back until midnight. He will be so sorry to have missed you. But he will see you tomorrow, of course.”

“And you are alone here?”

“Yes. Alone with my work.”

“Then what about our plan of taking you back with us and keeping you for the evening’”

“I think I would rather stay and finish my work.”

“Nonsense, child,” said Mrs Beatty. “You cannot be working always. Come out and enjoy yourself.”

Mary yielded with a sigh, and went for her hat.

“I am sure that all this painting and poetry reading is not good for a young girl,” said Mrs Beatty, whilst Mary was away. “It is very good of your Adrian to take such trouble to cultivate Mary’s mind; but so much study cannot but hurt her brain. She is very self-willed and full of outlandish ideas. She is not under proper control. Poor Charles has no more resolution than a baby. And she will not listen to me, alth—”

“I am ready,” said Mary, returning.

“You make me nervous — you do everything so quickly,” said Mrs. Beatty, querulously. “I wish you would take shorter steps,” she added, looking disparagingly at her niece’s skirts as they went out through the shrubbery. “It is not nice to see a girl striding like a man. It gives you quite a bold appearance when you swing along, peering at people through your glasses.”

“That is an old crime of mine, Mrs Herbert,” said Mary. “I never go out with Aunt Jane without being lectured for not walking as if I had high heeled boots. Even the Colonel took me too task one evening here. He said a man should walk like a horse, and a woman like a cow. His complaint was that I walked like a horse; and he said that you, aunt, walked properly, like a cow. It is not worth any woman’s while to gain such a compliment as that. It made Mr Jack laugh for the first and only time in our house.”

Mrs Beatty reddened, and seemed about to make an angry reply, when the tutor came in at the shrubbery gate, and held it open for them to pass. Mrs Herbert thanked him. Mrs Beatty, following her, tried to look haughtily at him, but quailed, and made him a slight bow, in response to which he took off his hat.

“Mr Jack,” said Mary, stopping: “if papa comes back before I am in, will you please tell him that I am at Colonel Beatty’s.”

“At what hour do you expect him?”

“Not until eleven, at soonest. I am almost sure to be back first; but if by any chance I should not be—”

“I will tell him,” said Jack. Mary passed on; and he watched them until Mrs Beatty’s carriage disappeared. Then he hurried indoors, and brought a heap of manuscript music into the room the ladies had just left. He opened the pianoforte and sat down before it; but instead of playing he began to write, occasionally touching the keys to try the effect of a progression, or rising to walk up and down the room with puckered brows.

He labored in this fashion until seven o’clock, when, hearing someone whistling in the road, he went out into the shrubbery, and presently came back with a soldier, not perfectly sober, who carried a roll of music paper and a case containing three clarionets.

“Now let us hear what you can make of it,” said Jack, seating himself at the piano.

“It’s cruel quick, that allagrow part is,” said the soldier, trying to make his sheet of music stand properly on Mary’s table easel. “Just give us your B fat, will you. Mister.” Jack struck the note; and the soldier blew. ‘“Them ladies’ singin’ pianos is always so damn low,” he grumbled. “I’ve drorn the slide as far as it’ll come. Just wait while I stick a washer in the bloomin’ thing.”