The Admirable Crichton | Page 7

they
were chickens.) Now then, Mary, up and doing, up and doing. Time we
had the servants in. They enjoy it so much.
LADY MARY. They hate it.
LORD LOAM. Mary, to your duties. (And he points severely to the
tea- table.)
ERNEST (twinkling). Congratulations, Brocky.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (who detests humour). Thanks.
ERNEST. Mother pleased?
LORD BROCKLEHURST (with dignity). Mother is very pleased.
ERNEST. That's good. Do you go on the yacht with us?
LORD BROCKLEHURST. Sorry I can't. And look here, Ernest, I will
not be called Brocky.
ERNEST. Mother don't like it?
LORD BROCKLEHURST. She does not. (He leaves ERNEST, who

forgives him and begins to think about his speech. CRICHTON enters.)
LORD LOAM (speaking as one man to another). We are quite ready,
Crichton. (CRICHTON is distressed.)
LADY MARY (sarcastically). How Crichton enjoys it!
LORD LOAM (frowning). He is the only one who doesn't; pitiful
creature.
CRICHTON (shuddering under his lord's displeasure). I can't help
being a Conservative, my lord.
LORD LOAM. Be a man, Crichton. You are the same flesh and blood
as myself.
CRICHTON (in pain). Oh, my lord!
LORD LOAM (sharply). Show them in; and, by the way, they were not
all here last time.
CRICHTON. All, my lord, except the merest trifles.
LORD LOAM. It must be every one. (Lowering.) And remember this,
Crichton, for the time being you are my equal. (Testily.) I shall soon
show you whether you are not my equal. Do as you are told.
(CRICHTON departs to obey, and his lordship is now a general. He has
no pity for his daughters, and uses a terrible threat.)
And girls, remember, no condescension. The first who condescends
recites. (This sends them skurrying to their labours.)
By the way, Brocklehurst, can you do anything?
LORD BROCKLEHURST. How do you mean?
LORD LOAM. Can you do anything--with a penny or a handkerchief,
make them disappear, for instance?

LORD BROCKLEHURST. Good heavens, no.
LORD LOAM. It's a pity. Every one in our position ought to be able to
do something. Ernest, I shall probably ask you to say a few words;
something bright and sparkling.
ERNEST. But, my dear uncle, I have prepared nothing.
LORD LOAM. Anything impromptu will do.
ERNEST. Oh--well--if anything strikes me on the spur of the moment.
(He unostentatiously gets the footstool into position behind the chair.
CRICHTON reappears to announce the guests, of whom the first is the
housekeeper.)
CRICHTON (reluctantly). Mrs. Perkins.
LORD LOAM (shaking hands). Very delighted, Mrs. Perkins. Mary,
our friend, Mrs. Perkins.
LADY MARY. How do you do, Mrs. Perkins? Won't you sit here?
LORD LOAM (threateningly). Agatha!
AGATHA (hastily). How do you do? Won't you sit down?
LORD LOAM (introducing). Lord Brocklehurst--my valued friend,
Mrs. Perkins.
(LORD BROCKLEHURST bows and escapes. He has to fall back on
ERNEST.)
LORD BROCKLEHURST. For heaven's sake, Ernest, don't leave me
for a moment; this sort of thing is utterly opposed to all my principles.
ERNEST (airily). You stick to me, Brocky, and I'll pull you through.
CRICHTON. Monsieur Fleury.

ERNEST. The chef.
LORD LOAM (shaking hands with the chef). Very charmed to see you,
Monsieur Fleury.
FLEURY. Thank you very much.
(FLEURY bows to AGATHA, who is not effusive.)
LORD LOAM (warningly). Agatha--recitation!
(She tosses her head, but immediately finds a seat and tea for M.
FLEURY. TREHERNE and ERNEST move about, making themselves
amiable. LADY MARY is presiding at the tea-tray.)
CRICHTON. Mr. Rolleston.
LORD LOAM (shaking hands with his valet). How do you do,
Rolleston?
(CATHERINE looks after the wants of ROLLESTON.)
CRICHTON. Mr. Tompsett.
(TOMPSETT, the coachman, is received with honours, from which he
shrinks.)
CRICHTON. Miss Fisher.
(This superb creature is no less than LADY MARY'S maid, and even
LORD LOAM is a little nervous.)
LORD LOAM. This is a pleasure, Miss Fisher.
ERNEST (unabashed). If I might venture, Miss Fisher (and he takes her
unto himself).
CRICHTON. Miss Simmons.

LORD LOAM (to CATHERINE'S maid). You are always welcome,
Miss Simmons.
ERNEST (perhaps to kindle jealousy in Miss FISHER). At last we
meet. Won't you sit down?
CRICHTON. Mademoiselle Jeanne.
LORD LOAM. Charmed to see you, Mademoiselle Jeanne.
(A place is found for AGATHA'S maid, and the scene is now an
animated one; but still our host thinks his girls are not sufficiently
sociable. He frowns on LADY MARY.)
LADY MARY (in alarm). Mr. Treherne, this is Fisher, my maid.
LORD LOAM (sharply). Your what, Mary?
LADY MARY. My friend.
CRICHTON. Thomas.
LORD LOAM. How do you do, Thomas?
(The first footman gives him a reluctant hand.)
CRICHTON. John.
LORD LOAM. How do you do, John?
(ERNEST signs to LORD BROCKLEHURST, who hastens to him.)
ERNEST (introducing). Brocklehurst, this is John. I think you have
already met on the door-step.
CRICHTON. Jane.
(She comes, wrapping her hands miserably in her apron.)

LORD LOAM (doggedly). Give me