Major Barbara | Page 9

was really funny, I believe.
LOMAX. Ripping.
LADY BRITOMART. Be quiet, Charles. Now listen to me, children.
Your father is coming here this evening. [General stupefaction].
LOMAX [remonstrating] Oh I say!
LADY BRITOMART. You are not called on to say anything, Charles.
SARAH. Are you serious, mother?
LADY BRITOMART. Of course I am serious. It is on your account,
Sarah, and also on Charles's. [Silence. Charles looks painfully
unworthy]. I hope you are not going to object, Barbara.
BARBARA. I! why should I? My father has a soul to be saved like
anybody else. He's quite welcome as far as I am concerned.
LOMAX [still remonstrant] But really, don't you know! Oh I say!
LADY BRITOMART [frigidly] What do you wish to convey, Charles?
LOMAX. Well, you must admit that this is a bit thick.

LADY BRITOMART [turning with ominous suavity to Cusins]
Adolphus: you are a professor of Greek. Can you translate Charles
Lomax's remarks into reputable English for us?
CUSINS [cautiously] If I may say so, Lady Brit, I think Charles has
rather happily expressed what we all feel. Homer, speaking of
Autolycus, uses the same phrase.
LOMAX [handsomely] Not that I mind, you know, if Sarah don't.
LADY BRITOMART [crushingly] Thank you. Have I your permission,
Adolphus, to invite my own husband to my own house?
CUSINS [gallantly] You have my unhesitating support in everything
you do.
LADY BRITOMART. Sarah: have you nothing to say?
SARAH. Do you mean that he is coming regularly to live here?
LADY BRITOMART. Certainly not. The spare room is ready for him
if he likes to stay for a day or two and see a little more of you; but there
are limits.
SARAH. Well, he can't eat us, I suppose. I don't mind.
LOMAX [chuckling] I wonder how the old man will take it.
LADY BRITOMART. Much as the old woman will, no doubt, Charles.
LOMAX [abashed] I didn't mean--at least--
LADY BRITOMART. You didn't think, Charles. You never do; and
the result is, you never mean anything. And now please attend to me,
children. Your father will be quite a stranger to us.
LOMAX. I suppose he hasn't seen Sarah since she was a little kid.
LADY BRITOMART. Not since she was a little kid, Charles, as you
express it with that elegance of diction and refinement of thought that
seem never to desert you. Accordingly--er-- [impatiently] Now I have
forgotten what I was going to say. That comes of your provoking me to
be sarcastic, Charles. Adolphus: will you kindly tell me where I was.
CUSINS [sweetly] You were saying that as Mr Undershaft has not seen
his children since they were babies, he will form his opinion of the way
you have brought them up from their behavior to-night, and that
therefore you wish us all to be particularly careful to conduct ourselves
well, especially Charles.
LOMAX. Look here: Lady Brit didn't say that.
LADY BRITOMART [vehemently] I did, Charles. Adolphus's
recollection is perfectly correct. It is most important that you should be

good; and I do beg you for once not to pair off into opposite corners
and giggle and whisper while I am speaking to your father.
BARBARA. All right, mother. We'll do you credit.
LADY BRITOMART. Remember, Charles, that Sarah will want to feel
proud of you instead of ashamed of you.
LOMAX. Oh I say! There's nothing to be exactly proud of, don't you
know.
LADY BRITOMART. Well, try and look as if there was.
Morrison, pale and dismayed, breaks into the room in unconcealed
disorder.
MORRISON. Might I speak a word to you, my lady?
LADY BRITOMART. Nonsense! Show him up.
MORRISON. Yes, my lady. [He goes].
LOMAX. Does Morrison know who he is?
LADY BRITOMART. Of course. Morrison has always been with us.
LOMAX. It must be a regular corker for him, don't you know.
LADY BRITOMART. Is this a moment to get on my nerves, Charles,
with your outrageous expressions?
LOMAX. But this is something out of the ordinary, really--
MORRISON [at the door] The--er--Mr Undershaft. [He retreats in
confusion].
Andrew Undershaft comes in. All rise. Lady Britomart meets him in
the middle of the room behind the settee.
Andrew is, on the surface, a stoutish, easygoing elderly man, with
kindly patient manners, and an engaging simplicity of character. But he
has a watchful, deliberate, waiting, listening face, and formidable
reserves of power, both bodily and mental, in his capacious chest and
long head. His gentleness is partly that of a strong man who has learnt
by experience that his natural grip hurts ordinary people unless he
handles them very carefully, and partly the mellowness of age and
success. He is also a little shy in his present very delicate situation.
LADY BRITOMART. Good evening, Andrew.
UNDERSHAFT. How d'ye do, my dear.