Алан Милн - Happy Days

~Dick~ ( bitterly ). You shrink from me, Millicent. ( With strong common sense. ) What is an escaped convict to the beautiful Miss Wilsdon?

~Millicent.~ Dick—I—you—when you were sentenced―

~Dick.~ When I was sentenced—the evidence was black against me, I admit—I wrote and released you from your engagement. You are married now?

~Millicent~ ( throwing herself on a sofa ). Oh, Dick!

~Jasper~ ( recovering himself ). Enough of this. Miss Wilsdon is going to marry me tomorrow.

~Dick.~ To marry you ! ( He strides over to sofa and pulls Millicent to her feet. ) Millicent, look me in the eyes! Do you love him? ( She turns away. ) Say "Yes" and I will go back quietly to my prison. ( She raises her eyes to his. ) Ha! I thought so! You don't love him! Now then I can speak.

~Jasper~ ( advancing threateningly ). Yes, to your friends, the warders. Millicent, ring the bell.

~Dick~ ( wresting the revolver from his grasp ). Ha, would you? Now stand over there and listen to me. ( He arranges his audience, Millicent on a sofa on the right, Jasper, biting his finger nails, on the left. ) Three years ago Lady Wilsdon's diamond necklace was stolen. My flat was searched and the necklace was found in my hatbox. Although I protested my innocence I was tried, found guilty, and sentenced to ten years' penal servitude, followed by fifteen years' police supervision.

~Millicent~ ( raising herself on the sofa ). Dick, you were innocent—I know it. ( She flops back again. )

~Dick.~ I was. But how could I prove it? I went to prison. For a year black despair gnawed at my heart. And then something happened. The prisoner in the cell next to mine tried to communicate with me by means of taps. We soon arranged a system and held conversations together. One day he told me of a robbery in which he and another man had been engaged—the robbery of a diamond necklace.

~Jasper~ ( jauntily ). Well?

~Dick~ ( sternly ). A diamond necklace, Jasper Beeste, which the other man hid in the hatbox of another man in order that he might woo the other man's fiancée ! (Millicent shrieks .)

~Jasper~ ( blusteringly ). Bah!

~Dick~ ( quietly ). The man in the cell next to mine wants to meet this gentleman again. It seems that he has some old scores to pay off.

~Jasper~ ( sneeringly ). And where is he?

~Dick.~ Ah, where is he? ( He goes to the window and gives a low whistle. A stranger in knickerbockers jumps in and advances with a crab–like movement. ) Good! here you are. Allow me to present you to Mr. Jasper Beeste.

~Jasper~ ( in horror ). Two–toed Thomas! I am undone!

~Two–toed Thomas~ ( after a series of unintelligible snarls ). Say the word, guv'nor, and I'll kill him. ( He prowls round Jasper thoughtfully. )

~Dick~ ( sternly ). Stand back! Now, Jasper Beeste, what have you to say?

~Jasper~ ( hysterically ). I confess. I will sign anything. I will go to prison. Only keep that man off me.

~Dick~ ( going up to a bureau and writing aloud at incredible speed ). "I, Jasper Beeste, of Beeste Hall, do hereby declare that I stole Lady Wilsdon's diamond necklace and hid it in the hatbox of Richard Trayle; and I further declare that the said Richard Trayle is innocent of any complicity in the affair. ( Advancing with the paper and a fountain pen. ) Sign, please."

( Jasper signs. At this moment two warders burst into the room. )

~First Warder.~ There they are!

( He seizes Dick. Two–toed Thomas leaps from the window, pursued by the second Warder . Millicent picks up the confession and advances dramatically. )

~Millicent.~ Do not touch that man! Read this!

( She hands him the confession with an air of superb pride. )

~First Warder~ ( reading ). Jasper Beeste! ( Slipping a pair of handcuffs on Jasper.) You come along with me, my man. We've had our suspicions of you for some time. ( To Millicent, with a nod at Dick). You'll look after that gentleman, miss?

~Millicent.~ Of course! Why, he's engaged to me. Aren't you, Dick?

~Dick.~ This time, Millicent, for ever!

CURTAIN.

The Scene is laid outside a village inn in that county of curious dialects, Loamshire. The inn is easily indicated by a round table bearing two mugs of liquid, while a fallen log emphasises the rural nature of the scene. Gaffer Jarge and Gaffer Willyum are seated at the table, surrounded by a fringe of whisker , Jarge being slightly more of a gaffer than Willyum.

~Jarge~ ( who missed his dinner through nervousness and has been ordered to sustain himself with soup—as he puts down the steaming mug ). Eh, bor but this be rare beer. So it be.

~Willyum~ ( who had too much dinner and is now draining his liquid paraffin ). You be right, Gaffer Jarge. Her be main rare beer. ( He feels up his sleeve, but thinking better of it, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ) Main rare beer, zo her be. ( Gagging. ) Zure–lie.

~Jarge.~ Did I ever tell 'ee, bor, about t' new squoire o' these parts—him wot cum hum yesterday from furren lands? Gaffer Henry wor a–telling me.

~Willyum~ ( privately bored ). Thee didst tell 'un, lad, sartain sure thee didst. And Gaffer Henry, he didst tell 'un too. But tell 'un again. It du me good to hear 'un, zo it du. Zure–lie.

~Jarge~. A rackun it be a main queer tale, queerer nor any them writing chaps tell about. It wor like this. ( Dropping into English, in his hurry to get his long speech over before he forgets it. ) The old Squire had a daughter who disappeared when she was three weeks old, eighteen years ago. It was always thought she was stolen by somebody, and the Squire would have it that she was still alive. When he died a year ago he left the estate and all his money to a distant cousin in Australia, with the condition that if he did not discover the missing baby within twelve months everything was to go to the hospitals. ( Remembering his smock and whiskers with a start. ) And here du be the last day, zo it be, and t' Squoire's daughter, her ain't found.

~Willyum~ ( puffing at a new and empty clay pipe ). Zure–lie. (Jarge, a trifle jealous of Willyum's gag, pulls out a similar pipe, but smokes it with the bowl upside down to show his independence .) T' Squire's darter (Jarge frowns )—her bain't (Jarge wishes he had thought of "bain't" )—her bain't found. ( There is a dramatic pause, only broken by the prompter. ) Her ud be little Rachel's age now, bor?

~Jarge~ ( reflectively ). Ay, ay. A main queer lass little Rachel du be. Her bain't like one of us.

~Willyum~. Her do be that fond of zoap and water. ( Laughter. )

~Jarge~ ( leaving nothing to chance ). Happen she might be a real grand lady by birth, bor.

Enter Rachel, beautifully dressed in the sort of costume in which one would go to a fancy–dress ball as a village maiden .

~Rachel~ ( in the most expensive accent ). Now, Uncle George ( shaking a finger at him ), didn't you promise me you'd go straight home? It would serve you right if I never tied your tie for you again. ( She smiles brightly at him. )

~Jarge~ ( slapping his thigh in ecstasy ). Eh, lass! yer du keep us old uns in order. ( He bursts into a falsetto chuckle, loses the note, blushes and buries his head in his mug. )